Challenging Capacity Building: Comparative Perspectives

Challenging Capacity Building Comparative Perspectives

Sue Kenny Matthew Clarke

Rethinking International Development Series Series Editors: Andy Sumner, Fellow of the Vulnerability and Poverty Research Team, Institute of Development Studies, UK. Ray Kiely, Professor of International Politics, Queen Mary University of London, UK. Palgrave Macmillan is delighted to announce a new series dedicated to publishing cutting-edge titles that focus on the broad area of ‘development’. The core aims of the series are to present critical work that: – is cross disciplinary; – challenges orthodoxies; – reconciles theoretical depth with empirical research; – explores the frontiers of development studies in terms of ‘development’ in both North and South and global inter-connectedness; – reflects on claims to knowledge and intervening in other peoples lives.

Titles include: Simon Feeny and Matthew Clarke THE MILLENNIUM DEVELOPMENT GOALS AND BEYOND International Assistance to the Asia-Pacific Niamh Gaynor TRANSFORMING PARTICIPATION? The Politics of Development in Malawi and Ireland Sue Kenny and Matthew Clarke (editors) CHALLENGING CAPACITY BUILDING Comparative Perspectives Eric Rugraff, Diego Sánchez-Ancochea, Andy Sumner (editors) TRANSNATIONAL CORPORATIONS AND DEVELOPMENT POLICY Critical Perspectives Jens Stilhoff Sörensen (editor) CHALLENGING THE AID PARADIGM Western Currents and Asian Alternatives Andy Sumner and Meera Tiwari AFTER 2015: INTERNATIONAL DEVELOPMENT POLICY AT A CROSSROADS

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Challenging Capacity Building Comparative Perspectives Edited By Sue Kenny Director of the Centre for Citizenship, Development and Human Rights, Deakin University, Australia

Matthew Clarke Deputy Head, School of International and Political Studies, Deakin University, Australia

Editorial matter, selection and introduction © Sue Kenny and Matthew Clarke 2010 All remaining chapters © respective authors 2010 All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No portion of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, or under the terms of any licence permitting limited copying issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, Saffron House, 6–10 Kirby Street, London EC1N 8TS. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. The authors have asserted their rights to be identified as the authors of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First published 2010 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN Palgrave Macmillan in the UK is an imprint of Macmillan Publishers Limited, registered in England, company number 785998, of Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS. Palgrave Macmillan in the US is a division of St Martin’s Press LLC, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010. Palgrave Macmillan is the global academic imprint of the above companies and has companies and representatives throughout the world. Palgrave® and Macmillan® are registered trademarks in the United States, the United Kingdom, Europe and other countries ISBN 978-0-230-23323-2

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This book is printed on paper suitable for recycling and made from fully managed and sustained forest sources. Logging, pulping and manufacturing processes are expected to conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Challenging capacity building : comparative perspectives / edited by Sue Kenny, Matthew Clarke. p. cm. – (Rethinking international development series) ISBN 978-0-230-23323-2 1. Community development–Case studies. 2. Infrastructure (Economics)–Environmental aspects–Case studies. 3. Sustainable development–Case studies. I. Kenny, Susan, 1946– II. Clarke, Matthew, 1969– HN49.C6C4815 2010 307.1’4–dc22 2010012497 10 19

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Printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Antony Rowe, Chippenham and Eastbourne

Contents List of Tables

vii

List of Contributors

viii

Part I

Capacity Building and Community Development: Challenging Rhetoric and Practice

1

Chapter 1

Introduction Sue Kenny and Matthew Clarke

3

Chapter 2

Developing Capacities and Agency in Complex Times Chris Miller

21

Chapter 3

Community Capacity Building: Critiquing the Concept in Different Policy Contexts Gary Craig

41

Chapter 4

Capacity Building and Community Development Jim Ife

67

Part II

Practical Challenges of Capacity Building

85

Chapter 5

Emergent Drivers for Building and Sustaining Capacity in Australian Indigenous Communities Jill Abdullah and Susan Young

87

Chapter 6

Re-imagining Capacity Building When Participation is Constrained: Illegal Burmese Migrants in Thailand Matthew Clarke

112

Chapter 7

The Solomon Islands: Conflict and Capacity Heather Wallace

133

Chapter 8

Capacity Building in Indonesia: Building What Capacity? Ismet Fanany, Rebecca Fanany and Sue Kenny

156

Chapter 9

Capacity Building and Urban Regeneration in Dublin, Ireland Michelle Share

185

v

vi Contents

Chapter 10 Capacity Building and Community Power Randy Stoecker

211

Chapter 11 Transition Towns and Community Capacity Building Phil Connors

229

Chapter 12 Conclusion: Critical Capacity Building Sue Kenny and Matthew Clarke

248

Index

258

List of Tables Table 6.1 Table 6.2 Table 6.3

Types of Abuse Encountered by Illegal Burmese Migrants in Mae Sot Comparison of Key Indices Between Thailand and Burma Constraints of Working with Illegal Burmese Migrant Communities

vii

115 118 125

List of Contributors As researchers, policy advisers, practitioners, writers, editors and teachers in the areas of international and community development, many of the authors of this proposed book have identified a lack of critical analyses of the idea and practice of capacity building and the need for rigorous examination of the complexities and tensions in developing and implementing capacity building programmes. The focus of many capacity building programmes is poor and disadvantaged communities and the appropriateness of capacity building for these groups, whether located in ‘developing’ or ‘developed’ countries, is presented as self-evident. In much of the discussion of ‘how to’ build capacity, critical questions regarding the determination of whose capacities are to built, the methods by which capacity will be built (for example, exogenous or endogenous) and the consequences for wider relationships of those whose capacity is being built (and presumably for those whose capacity is being left to be built at another time!) are not investigated. A deeper understanding of the meaning, practice and potential of capacity building is necessary and is undertaken in this book.

Editors Professor Sue Kenny is the Director of the Centre for Citizenship, Development and Human Rights at Deakin University, Melbourne, Australia. She has extensive research and consultancy experience in development issues in Australia and internationally and has published widely on community development and non-government organisations. Associate Professor Matthew Clarke is Deputy Head of the School of International and Political Studies and the Course the Director of the International and Community Development programme at Deakin University, Australia. Associate Professor Clarke also undertakes regular evaluations of community development projects in the Pacific and South-east Asia.

Other contributors Professor Chris Miller is Professor of Social and Community Development at the University of the West of England, Bristol, UK, Director of the Centre for Local Democracy, Research Fellow Centre for Pyscho-Social viii

List of Contributors ix

Studies and Editor of the Community Development Journal. Professor Miller teaches research methods, policy and professional practice on the Masters in Leadership and Organisation for Public Services programme, which he helped establish. Professor Gary Craig is Professor of Social Justice at the University of Hull, Head of the Centre for Social Inclusion and Social Justice, and Associate Director of the Wilberforce Institute for the Study of Slavery and Emancipation. His research interests include poverty, local governance, ‘race’ and ethnicity and community development. He is President of the International Association for Community Development, Fellow of the Royal Society of Arts and Academician of the Academy of the Learned Societies in the Social Sciences. Professor Jim Ife is Honorary Professor at the Centre for Citizenship and Human Rights at Deakin University, and Emeritus Professor in the Centre for Human Rights Education at Curtin University. His academic interests have centered on community development and human rights, and he has published extensively in both fields. He is currently working on a book Human Rights from Below which will integrate understandings of theory and practice from the perspectives of both community development and human rights. Dr Michelle Share is a Senior Researcher at the Children’s Research Centre, Trinity College Dublin, where she leads the Centre in programme evaluation. She is involved in research and evaluation work in a number of Dublin city urban regeneration programmes. Prior to her appointment to the Children’s Research Centre, Michelle was employed as a Senior Research Officer in the Division of Population Health, Health Services Executive. Jill Abdullah is a Wudjari woman with matrilineal links to a country in the south-east of Western Australia. Jill has completed her Master of Arts (Social Sciences) and is currently enrolled in a Doctor of Creative Arts at Curtin University of Technology. Throughout her career Jill has won both national and state awards and been successful with APA scholarships & AIATSIS research grants. Jill has extensive educational, policy and administrative experience in various government, statutory and academic organisations. She was a Visiting Fellow at the University of New Mexico, Albuquerque and has supervised doctoral, masters and post-graduate students at Curtin University of Technology.

x List of Contributors

Dr Susan Young is a social work educator whose practice experience has been over the past thirty years in community development, much of which has been with remote Indigenous communities. Susan’s recent publications have investigated the relationships between Indigenous and non-Indigenous workers in a large welfare bureaucracy. Dr Ismet Fanany lectures in Indonesian language and culture and coordinates Deakin’s in-country intensive Indonesian language and culture programme held every summer semester in Padang, West Sumatra. Before coming to Deakin, he was Head of the Department of Asian Languages and Studies at the University of Tasmania. His most recent publications include topics on Malay proverbs and metaphors and language and public policy. In addition, he also writes fiction and translates from English into Indonesian. Dr Rebecca Fanany teaches within the School of Public health at La Trobe University, Australia. She has lived and worked in Indonesia, Malaysia, and Singapore periodically since her first contact with the region in 1981. She has worked in collaboration with her husband on many projects. Dr Heather Wallace is a lecturer in the Masters of lnternational and Community Development at Deakin University. She has a background of research and work in aid and development projects in the Solomon Islands, Vanuatu, Bangladesh, China, Cambodia, Thailand, Indonesia, Pakistan and India. Dr Wallace’s research includes government and NGO relationships in development with a particular focus on the Solomon Islands and Vanuatu. She has had various articles published on community development, gender and development issues in the Pacific Islands. Professor Randy Stoecker is Associate Professor in the Department of Rural Sociology at the University of Wisconsin, with a joint appointment in the University of Wisconsin-Extension Center for Community and Economic Development. He has a Ph.D. in Sociology from the University of Minnesota, and a Masters of Science in Counseling from the University of Wisconsin-Whitewater. He moderates/edits COMM-ORG: The On-Line Conference on Community Organizing and Development (http://comm-org.wisc.edu). He conducts training and speaks frequently on community organising and development, participatory research/ evaluation, and community information technology.

List of Contributors xi

Dr Phil Connors is a lecturer in International and Community Development at Deakin University and has undertaken research for Victoria Police into engaging with ‘hard to reach’ communities and youth. Currently Dr Connors is completing a research project with the Big Issue Magazine in Melbourne exploring the economic and social outcomes for vendors.

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Part I Capacity Building and Community Development: Challenging Rhetoric and Practice

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1 Introduction Sue Kenny and Matthew Clarke

The romance with capacity building As has been noted recently (Cornwall, 2007), the field of international and community development is a haven for buzzwords, jargon and acronyms. The development lexicon is full of commonly used terms that have been assigned specific meaning within the development context: consider for example participation, gender, empowerment, sustainability, partnership – or indeed the word ‘development’ itself. None of these words are ‘innocent’. They carry with them particular theoretical and normative standpoints. In some cases they are infused with contradictory or melded meanings and operate as Trojan horses for a new set of ideological predispositions (Kenny, 2002). Common terms that are heavily imbued with significance all too often assume an aura of infallibility, which in turn can limit meaning, debate and discussion. Capacity building is one such term. It has the power to foreground certain approaches to development, such as those based around human resource and organisational enhancement, while silencing others, such those based around as activism and environmentalism (see Ife, Chapter 4 in this volume). Of course in and of itself, the term capacity building is innocuous enough, but within the development context, the practices, meaning and importance of capacity building are often simply assumed. Whether or not the meaning and importance are assumed or explicitly defined, the term is usually loaded with positive value. At face value there is considerable appeal in capacity building. For example, in its most ambitious form, capacity building can enable disempowered people in both the global north and global south to take control of their own destinies. As Miller and Ife discuss in this volume (albeit with different implications), capacity building speaks to human 3

4 Introduction

potential. Projects organised around capacity building can offer important ways of enriching human lives, through general transfer of knowledge and skills and local participation and control. Indeed, under the alluring slogan of ‘helping people to help themselves’ capacity building interventions have promised to change the very nature of development. Capacity building is placed in favourable opposition to traditional top-down social engineering, structural adjustment programmes or welfare-based models of development. In more modest ways capacity building programmes assist groups, communities and organisations to enhance their performance in regard to specific tasks and adapt to social change (Morgan, 1999; James, 2001). In particular, capacity building can improve an organisation’s effectiveness and sustainability (James, 2001). Furthermore, whether through non-government organisations (NGOs) speaking ‘for’ disadvantaged and marginalised people, or through such people being ‘given their own voice’, capacity building programmes promise to empower people who have been excluded from participation in society. As discussed in this book (for example see Chapters 2 and 8 by Miller and Fanany et al.), there are also pragmatic reasons for organising development programmes around capacity building principles. Building people’s capacities to take control of their own needs takes pressure off governments and the obligations of aid agencies to maintain continuing support for local development programmes, the latter effect being particularly important in the case of developing countries. Being ‘closer to the ground’ so to speak, local communities understand where the resources are and how to access them. They know how to identify and handle local needs and they can mitigate the effort, energies and costs borne by external agents in providing infrastructure for development programmes. These, then, are the promises. It would seem that the logic of the arguments for a capacity building approach to development is both reasonable and intuitively sound, as Clarke points out in Chapter 6. However the authors in this book take issue with the almost global fixation with capacity building (Craig, 2007). For example Clarke (Chapter 6) argues that the value of capacity building is now considered vital to development interventions internationally, so much so that it has become fetishised. One of the factors that has contributed to this fetishisation is the narrow framing of capacity building. A number of the contributors to this book point out that capacity building programmes are set within the restricted parameters of neo-liberalism. Neo-liberalism calls for organisational principles that have come to be known as new managerialism. New managerialism involves the enhancement of managerial leadership

Sue Kenny and Matthew Clarke 5

and initiative, a focus on output and outcomes rather than process, and a competitive attitude, including performance initiatives and rewards (Considine and Painter, 1997). A key characteristic of both neo-liberal and new managerialist activities and policies is the appearance of value neutrality. Tasks are performed as technical procedures. What matters is the efficient fulfilment of set goals. However neoliberal policies and new managerialism are indeed based on values (see Chapter 2 Miller in this book). These values include the views that competition and individualism are the key drivers of society. Supporters of neo-liberal policies condemn dependency, arguing that individual agency can overcome disadvantage. It is this focus on agency that underpins the fetishisation of capacity building. For a wider framing of capacity building we must turn to community development. The history of community development, as a set of development principles and practices based on ideas of social justice, human rights, community participation and ownership of projects, can be traced back to the post-World War II attempts to ‘empower’ communities in the developing world to take responsibility for their own development. By the mid-1960s community development was taken up in the so-called developed world, and particularly in English speaking countries (see Chapter 3 Craig). In the Anglo dominated world community development was constructed in opposition to the patronising and disempowering tendencies of the welfare state and to authoritarian social work. Ironically, even though much of community development was premised on the approach and ideas that we today call capacity building, it was not until the late 1990s that capacity building entered the community development lexicon and began to capture the policy agendas of governments in such countries as the UK, Canada, Australia and New Zealand. Significantly, the bifurcation of community development constructed around different discourses and practices in the North and South has continued, and is maintained in the capacity building literature today. The tracking of the trajectories of community development and capacity building led to the obvious question of whether capacity building is actually synonymous with community development, but for a number of reasons is presented as a new set of practices, obfuscating not only capacity building, but community development itself. This issue is a major theme of this book and the different contributors deal with this issue quite differently. As argued in this book, by the beginning of the 1990s capacity building had become a central tenet of development interventions, including interventions that took place in international aid agencies,

6 Introduction

multilateral organisations or urban renewal projects. The intellectual embrace of capacity building can be linked to the ascendancy of three sociological perspectives that edged their way through the social sciences and into policy agendas in the 1970s and 1980s. These were the perspectives of agency, active citizenship and civil society. Brought together, they held that active citizens, participating in the institutions of burgeoning civil societies, have the capacity to steer human endeavour in a direction that can produce self-determining, sustainable societies. In contrast to the view of the citizen as a passive subject whose citizenship rights and obligations are decided upon from above, active citizens are emancipated actors. In its strongest sense then, capacity building requires self-rule and self-determination (Warren, 2001:62). If this is so, then what type of capacity building, if any, can occur when these features are missing? This question is addressed by Clarke in Chapter 6. In the hands of a new generation of development workers in both international and community development, these ideas became powerful mobilising tools by the end of the twenty-first century. In particular, the notion that civil society had significant emancipatory power and offered practical support to problem solving in both established and emerging democracies (Edwards, 2004) found a receptive audience in the younger generation of development professionals who were then moving into policy positions in UN agencies, NGOs and local government settings alike. Civil society, in particular, identified as the sphere where people associate freely, identify shared interests, shape norms and articulate purposes (Rosenblum and Prost, 2002) was an appropriate site for the establishment of capacity building programmes. It was paraded as the ideal place to ‘empower’ individuals and communities to take responsibility for their own directions and welfare. This framing of civil society took place within a strong anti-statist rhetoric (Ehrenberg, 1998). It was bolstered by the view that the state dampened the initiative and creativity necessary for a fully productive, self-sustaining society, whilst civil society nurtured responsibility and provided spaces for constructing alternative practices and visions (Ehrenberg, 1998). In so far as they operated in and through civil society, capacity building programmes could open up discussion of issues of community concern and provide new processes for generating local solidarity. Collective participation in capacity building could offer a way of countering the socially corrosive effects of the contemporary state controlled political and social order. Such views reflect a general shift in our understanding of the relation between citizens and the institutions in which they operate. This

Sue Kenny and Matthew Clarke 7

understanding was embedded in an approach that focused on the role of individuals and collectivities as agents in their own destiny. It is constructed around what is often known as the agency paradigm. The agency paradigm involves the conception of humans as autonomous, self-conscious beings who associate freely and take responsibility for their own lives. Moreover, active citizenship means that people are producing new ways of being subjects (Isin and Nielsen, 2008). Citizenship rights and obligations are not just passed down from above. As indicated above, they are actively created by members of societies. The tension between the two ways of thinking about citizenship, about whether humans create their world or are determined by it, has also been thought of in terms of agency versus structure. In the discourse and practice of development the pendulum has swung from the emphasis on structure, such as in policies for structural adjustment in international development, and in policies for welfare reform in the global north, towards the agency side of the debate, placing capacity building programmes at the centre of development initiatives. There has been another, more political and largely unfulfilled project that has helped shape policies for capacity building, particularly in the last few years. This is the project of human rights, which has drawn attention to the rights of development ‘subjects’ to identify their own capacities and needs, do their own envisioning for the future and construct their own ways of achieving needs and visions. Human rights agendas also acknowledge the obligations of those who have power and resources to facilitate capacity development when required.

Considerations of capacity building Given the growing interest in capacity building as development practice since the 1990s it is no wonder that there has been considerable discussion of the role of capacity building in a range of development settings. Most of this discussion has focused on the ‘developing world’, in initiatives ranging from World Bank projects, such as the Kecamatan Development Programme in Indonesia (World Bank, 1998) to programmes in post-conflict situations, such as in Bosnia (Sterland, 2006). However, since the early 1990s there has been a burgeoning commitment to capacity building in the so-called developed world. This discussion has involved some probing analyses, particularly around the issue of the multiple meanings of capacity building (see for example Chapman and Kirk, 2001). However, while there are some notable exceptions (see Miller in Chapter 2 including Mowbray, 2005; Powell

8 Introduction

and Geoghegan, 2006; Verity, 2007; DeFilippis et al., 2009) their main purpose has been to strengthen capacity building by clarifying its meaning, elucidating its purpose, understanding better how it works and suggesting areas and methods for improvement. Thus any critical edge to the discussion of capacity building has been instrumentally driven: the concern of commentators has been ‘how to do it better’. While some analyses in this book are written with a view to suggesting areas and methods for improving capacity building programmes, all chapters are primarily concerned to interrogate the assumptions and practices of capacity building. It is possible to discern some general themes arising from these interrogations. First, both the general analyses and the case-studies presented in this book reveal that there is considerable terminological confusion surrounding the idea of capacity building, and indeed there have been many attempts to extend or replace it (with such terms as capacity development, capacity enhancement and community capacity building). As Ife (Chapter 4) points out in this book, the use of different language signifies different ideas and emphases, which can profoundly affect the construction of capacity building. Notwithstanding the terminological confusions, the rhetoric of capacity building has immense power. It is replete with normative meaning. At the same time there is little or no acknowledgement of theoretical and political contexts. The normative force of capacity building is reinforced when it is linked to community, that contested construct that can be invested with profoundly different meanings, as discussed by Craig in Chapter 3 and Abdullah and Young in Chapter 5. A corollary to the normative understanding is the essentialist construction of capacity building initiatives, such as is found in the idea that capacity building methods can be developed through a formulaic ‘one size fits all’ approach. The normative formulaic approach to capacity building facilitates the foregrounding of some aspects of capacity building, such as the importance of individual agency and measurable outputs, and the silencing of other aspects, such as the capacity for activism (see Ife in Chapter 4), for mutual support and trust (see Miller in Chapter 2) and cultural sensitivity (see Abdullah and Young in Chapter 5). Second, capacity building is premised on a social ontology in which agency trumps structure. It ignores the fact that the very reason why some communities have difficulties in ‘developing’ is not their lack of capacity, but the structural, political and resource impediments in their way. This social ontology is compounded when external ‘capacity builders’ are employed and they fail to understand that all com-

Sue Kenny and Matthew Clarke 9

munities already have capacities. In their eagerness to identify ways of overcoming capacity ‘deficits’, many professional ‘capacity builders’ ignore not only the assets of the community they are working with, but what they can themselves learn from the ‘recipient’ community (see Abdullah and Young in Chapter 5). This ‘deficit’ orientation is a significant weakness of capacity building programmes and is commented on throughout the book. It prompts the question of whose capacity it really is that needs ‘building’. Several contributors reflect on the cross-cultural capacity building needs of external professionals (see chapters by Abdullah and Young and Fanany et al. in Chapters 5 and 8 respectively). The third theme concerns the construction of the discourse and practice of capacity building within narrow instrumentalist and technocratic terms of reference. As Ife points out in Chapter 4 capacity building programmes are based on a lineal logic directed at predetermined objectives and goals. Capacity building is also technocratic in so far as its activities become technical tasks or procedures and political decisions are dressed up as technical decisions (Habermas, 1971). This is particularly evident when a gap analysis or pathology approach (see Ife in Chapter 4) is applied (identifying what is needed and what is missing, and developing strategies to redress the gap). Instrumentalist and technocratic thinking are facilitated by top-down methods of decision-making. As Ife points out, such methods foreclose the possibility of an organic, iterative process of decision-making. They also fail to grasp the messy, unpredictable reality of community processes. There are many ways in which the instrumentalist and technocratic nature of capacity building programmes denies the promises of fulfilment of human potential and empowerment. As Miller discusses in Chapter 2, capacity building can offer an appealing strategy in a larger project concerned with social justice and deepening democracy. In this wider project capacities can be developed through reflection upon experiences. However within the dominant instrumentalist and technocratic framework, capacity building involves the mastery of predefined skills. Such an understanding forecloses alternative perspectives and activism. Once critical dialogue is silenced in the interests of narrow instrumentalism the quest for social justice and deeper democracy collapses. Any possibility of capacity building for social change gives way to capacity building for efficient organisations, obedience or bettering oneself (see Miller in Chapter 2 and Fanany et al. in Chapter 8). By focusing on training and practical skills, technocratically-based capacity building dispenses with the broader understanding of empowerment

10 Introduction

that has been so influential in community development practice in the 1990s (Ife et al., 2006). For example it ignores the vital understanding in community development that empowerment requires power over resources, power over relationships, power over information and knowledge and power over decision-making (see Abdullah and Young in Chapter 5). In community development considerations of empowerment draw attention to the ways in which power is constructed and exerted. Full empowerment requires changes to the material living conditions of those who are oppressed and disadvantaged in society. Fourth, linked to the instrumentalist and technocratic nature of capacity building and the framing of capacity building in managerialist terms of reference is the focus on organisational development and training. Several contributors to this book reflect on the preoccupation with building the capacities of organisations (see Chapter 8 by Fanany et al. and Chapter 10 by Stoecker), most noticeably in the image of a business organisation, and the didactic pedagogies underlying the preoccupation with capacity building as training (see Chapters 2, 4, 8, and 10 by Miller, Ife, Fanany et al. and Stoecker respectively). Training lends itself to passive learning, where the purpose of instruction is to adapt individuals to the existing world. In contrast, the active learning that is championed by community development involves people creating their own worlds for the purpose of liberation Freire (1972), in a ‘mutual journey of discovery’. Fifth, capacity building discourse follows the general pattern of bifurcation that divides development into discrete endeavours: development that occurs in the global south, or ‘developing’ world; and development that occurs in the global north, or ‘developed’ world. This problematic and essentialising practice is difficult to erase. Indeed we found it difficult to avoid in this book. What can be erased however is the assumption that capacity building is what Westernised professionals ‘do for’ the ‘undeveloped’ world, Indigenous communities or disadvantaged groups in industrialised societies. A number of contributors to this book consider the effects of the asymmetrical power relations embedded in such bifurcation. Ife for example comments on how capacity building in which industralised countries impose their agenda on the ‘developing countries’ is indicative of the continuing colonial project (see Chapter 4). In Chapter 5 Abdullah and Young note that what is called capacity building in Australian Indigenous communities is called training, education and up-skilling in non-Indigenous communities without any inference that the latter group lack capacity.

Sue Kenny and Matthew Clarke 11

Finally, capacity building prioritises localist problems, ‘deficits’ and strategies. The subjects of capacity building are mainly local communities and their organisations. This localist focus makes sense because it is much easier to train, track and measure capacity development at the local level, especially in the reified community, than at the level of wider groups and institutions such as the nation state. However localism presents its own kinds of difficulties. A localist orientation connects with the idea of community as commonality, reinforcing the view that community denotes homogeneity, overlooking the important characteristic of diversity which exists in all communities. Craig (Chapter 3) for example, reflects on the way in which cultural difference is seen as a problem. Diversity is a weakness not a strength. It equates with a capacity deficit which requires rebuilding. By focusing on the local as a homogenous entity, many capacity building programmes fail to acknowledge the multifaceted nature of assets and needs, some of which might be in conflict with each other. Moreover concentrating on the local shifts attention away from the wider state and structural hindrances to development. The local might strengthen internal ties, or bonding social capital, and offer a refuge against economic globalisation, but it also circumscribes consciousness of the needs of others and what has come to be known as the cosmopolitan outlook. Cosmopolitanism includes the local but emphasises the bridge between local loyalties and loyalties and obligations to others, which are based in the principles of the respect for and equal worth of all humans, tolerance of differences, acceptance of multiple and overlapping identities and the interconnectedness of people’s lives. Indicators of a cosmopolitan outlook include ‘scepticism and ironic distance from one’s own tradition’ (Turner, 2006:64), curiosity, concern and action around issues that impact on global society, solidarity and support across national borders (Gaventa, 2001) an ability to see how issues are linked together and to perceive them from different perspectives, respect for the autonomy of individuals and for different ways of ‘doing things’ and commitment to universal human rights (Szerszynski and Urry, 2002; Beck, 2006). A cosmopolitan standpoint requires a range of capacities. For example, Miller (see Chapter 2) full ‘human subjecthood’ requires an understanding of the fluidity of capacities, which include those which are ethical, relational and spiritual. Cosmopolitanism opens the way for different paths to self-determination and different modes of capacity building such as through the transnational networks of activist groups that mobilise internationally and new sources of knowledge through the internet, that were unheard of only several decades ago.

12 Introduction

Are the rhetorics and practices of capacity building no more than a set of development imperatives that are used ingenuously for the purpose of incorporation into the broad project of neo-liberalism, with its kitbag of managerialist tools and technocratic thinking? Or does capacity building provide a set of normative, practical and political tools that can empower communities to take charge of their own affairs and nurture a cosmopolitan outlook in a complementary way to critical community development? There are various ways of answering these questions. Some of the answers are offered in the different arguments presented in this book. The organising theme of the book is that capacity building, in both its rhetoric and practice, is indeed a challenging topic of investigation. The book considers the idea of ‘challenging capacity building’ in three ways. First, conventional ideas of capacity building are critiqued and challenged (capacity building as object). Second, it examines how capacity building as an activity is a challenging endeavour for development practitioners. Finally, it investigates the way in which capacity building can challenge existing arrangements, through for example, the genuine empowerment of communities (capacity building as agent). Following this introductory chapter, the volume has two distinct sections. The first section considers theoretical challenges to the concept of capacity building. Three chapters by Miller, Craig and Ife consider why this term is problematic on a number of levels. These theoretical challenges are then illustrated with seven case studies that explore the practical challenges of capacity building. The strength of this second section is that the case studies are drawn from ‘developed’ and ‘developing’ countries. Miller notes in Chapter 2 that capacity building is another term with contested meaning within the general community development field. This chapter examines the concept of human ‘capacities’ understood as those powers – technical, practical, intellectual, ethical, relational and spiritual – that are potentially realisable rather than fixed human attributes. However, despite the confidence surrounding capacity building, building capacity within these realms is simply a model for development, not necessarily a panacea in and of itself. Any work undertaken under the guise of capacity building is not done so in a vacuum and therefore it is necessary to recognise the interconnected nature of social, economic and political spheres and how these all impact on those who are disadvantaged in some way. Miller therefore considers the implications for development work and development workers in maintaining this approach in the context of neo-liberal globalisation and complex-

Sue Kenny and Matthew Clarke 13

ity. Further it connects such debates with the concept of ‘agency’, the capacity for thoughtful action. In doing so it revisits debates, through Freire’s awakening of critical awareness and Bourdieu’s concept of habitus, concerning how human subjects acquire and sustain, or fail to do so, the capacity for action in complex, rapidly changing and adverse conditions. In Chapter 3, Craig argues that fifteen years ago, the term ‘communitycapacity building’ (CCB) was not to be found anywhere within the policy literature in the ‘developed’ world. Now it is used world-wide, particularly in the context of urban policy, regeneration and social development. The chapter argues that the term has been introduced as part of a political fashion but that in practice it is difficult to distinguish it from the practice of community development. Given this close link, Craig begins by highlighting the three meanings commonly assigned to ‘community’: 1) geographical community which is defined by a physical space or location; 2) community of identity in which different groups that cut across geographical locations assert their own specific needs based perhaps on ethnicity, sexuality, or gender; and 3) issues-based communities in which physical disparate groups or individuals may coalesce around a specific campaign or event or project. Once communities have been identified, efforts to enhance their circumstances were identified as ‘community development’. Craig then describes how this concept and set or practices was relabelled community capacity building. But simply rebranding this practice has not overcome the same tensions that impeded community development – manipulation of communities, co-option of activists, conditional funding and state-controlled power games such as divide and rule – continue to exist and hamper community capacity building. Therefore, community capacity building can be hijacked by those with influence and the use of the term can fabricate a false consensus about goals and interests. As with the original term – community development – community capacity building is not a neutral technical process but rather is about power and ideology and how these are negotiated through structures and processes. Chapter 4 by Ife examines the language of capacity building and the implications of a shift from talking about ‘community development’ to talking about ‘community capacity building’. The word ‘capacity’ carries with it an idea of what the community is supposed to accomplish. The outcome is implicitly defined, and the role of community work is then to help build the ‘capacity’ for it to be reached. Without some implicit notion of that outcome, the idea of ‘capacity’ is

14 Introduction

meaningless, as every community has capacity for many different things, including self-destruction, exclusive border protection, fragmentation, oppression of minorities, presumably these are not the ‘capacities’ to be ‘built’. Thus capacity building contains an implicit assumption of outcome, which it can be argued is contrary to the idea of community development. The use of the word ‘building’ implies a linear, ordered activity, where one step comes after another, as a cumulative process and something is gradually but steadily ‘built’. This is in sharp contrast to the more post-modern experience of community development, which is characteristically messy, disordered and unpredictable, but rich in its diversity and disorder. It has a connotation of ‘putting the pieces together’, as if messiness and chaos – the reality of community life is to be resisted and ordered if possible. The language of capacity building therefore carries with it certain assumptions about the world in which it is practised. To move from the language of community development to the language of capacity building thus involves a subtle shift to a language, and hence a world view, more consistent with the outcomes-driven, ordered, managerial approach of modernity, and carries with it the danger of betraying some of the most important characteristics of community development theory and practice. Part II of this volume includes a range of case studies from various countries. In Chapter 5, Abdullah and Young discusses three case studies from remote, metro, and regional Australia, to explore the ways in which capacity building is used in Indigenous communities. Adbullah and Young first note that persistent negative social, economic and health statistics drive the perceived need for capacity building for Indigenous families and communities by policy-makers. All communities have relationships with government, non-government agencies or business and industry who provide funds and resources under the banner of ‘capacity building’. This chapter argues that it is the approach taken by these ‘donors’ to capacity building that is problematic. Rather than recognising Aboriginal people as resourceful and creative in responding to the many challenges they face, these external agents base their interventions on the deficiencies rather than on existing strengths, capabilities and resiliencies. The issue of power is also very important when addressing ‘capacity building’ in Indigenous communities. Abdullah and Young discuss power over resources, power over relationships, power over information/knowledge, and power over decision-making. They note that unless these relationships are properly considered in light of the strengths of Indigenous communities, capacity building will fail to deliver its full potential. By way of case study, this chapter

Sue Kenny and Matthew Clarke 15

examines activities in different communities (regional and urban) over time and demonstrates how strengths and resilience have contributed to building capacity in these communities. Finally, this chapter presents suggestions to development workers and policy-makers for a reconstructed conception of capacity building which works with the hopes and abilities of the people themselves. The second case study by Clarke considers the difficulties associated with capacity building within certain communities, specifically that of illegal Burmese migrants within Thailand. Clarke argues that the rhetoric of capacity building is now prevalent within all levels of development – from international financial institutions and multilateral organisations to local government authorities to non-governmental organisations and local community-based organisations. Capacity building is now regarded as a central tenet of sustaining the impact of development interventions over the longer term. The premise of capacity building is based upon expanding community participation and enhancing local skills and expertise is areas of perceived deficit. However, in spite of its inherent strengths, capacity building may not be a possible (or optimal) outcome in all circumstances due to constraints on community participation in certain circumstances. This chapter is less interested in the debate of capacity building (deficit model) versus capacity development (asset model), which is discussed in other places in this volume, rather, it is interested in the prevailing assumption implicit in the approach to enhancing capacity overall that this endeavour is in fact appropriate in all circumstances. This chapter argues for the realistic expectation of capacity building (and indeed participation) of one specific sub-population within Thailand. Estimates of the number of illegal migrants within Thailand vary between 800,000 to 1.5 million. The overwhelming majority of these migrants are Burmese seeking to escape the political regime in Burma and improve their material standard of living. Working with these illegal Burmese migrants in Thailand is complex. The development needs that would be expected in any poor community, such as limited access to health services, economic insecurity, inadequate housing, etc. are added to by the precarious existence these migrants have in Thailand. This in turn hinders their ability to actively engage in the development process. This chapter reviews the lessons learned by one Thaibased NGO working with illegal Burmese migrants for over fifteen years. The unique strengths and weakness of these illegal communities are discussed, before the appropriateness of implementing ‘traditional’ capacity building activities is explored and the implications for NGOs working with such communities are discussed. This chapter therefore argues that

16 Introduction

capacity building must be ‘reimagined’ in these particular contexts. A new typology that describes the unique role NGOs must play in these circumstances: that of advocate-guardians, is also briefly introduced. In Chapter 7, Wallace considers how capacity building occurs during periods of conflict and illustrates this by examining the recent civil strife in the Solomon Islands. Wallace picks up a common critique of many capacity building interventions, that the underlying assumption is that there is either a low level of capacity present in communities in the first place, or worse, that there may not be any existing capacity at all. She argues that instead of considering or applying a more positive strengths-based approach to capacity, aid donors have generally adopted a deficit approach to Solomon Islands capacity and its development prospects. The language used by donors to describe the Solomon Islands underscores this perception: failed, fragile, etc. By drawing on various case studies, Wallace is able to show that during the crisis in the Solomon Islands (1999–2006) it was the non-government sector (or NGOs) which sustained and delivered many essential services to the community sector. Church-based organisations and women’s groups played a vital role in not only supporting communities in need but also in actively playing a role in conflict resolution and in attempting to negotiate peace settlements. It was primarily the NGO sector that most aid organisations and donor governments such as Australia focused on to channel aid, given the breakdown of the government and its inability to function effectively during the crisis. Wallace further demonstrates that capacity building has been linked to rebuilding peace and ‘reconstruction’ with funding flowing directly to community-based projects and bypassing the government in the process. The crisis in the Solomon Islands offered an opportunity to rebuild and reshape the relationship between civil society, the NGO sector and the government, but whether this will be successful is yet to be determined especially when ‘outside’ interests are also determined to influence the process of development in the post-conflict period. Finally, Wallace argues that the conflict in the Solomon Islands revealed layers of strength especially located in community-based networks such as women’s groups and that capacity building will be as effective as it can unless the strengths and capacities of those who are at the centre of these processes are properly acknowledged and used as the basis for any interventions undertaken. Chapter 8 by Ismet and Rebecca Fanany and Sue Kenny focuses on the meaning and application of capacity building in Indonesia. While the term is now part of the lexicon of government institutions, NGOs and the media alike, in the Indonesian context it is largely an empty

Sue Kenny and Matthew Clarke 17

‘loan’ concept, lacking clear meaning. For ordinary Indonesians, including those working on NGO capacity building programmes it is viewed cynically, and in many cases opportunistically. For example it is used to legitimate activities and bestow status on ‘capacity builders’. The chapter discusses disjunctions between the approaches of Western agencies operating in Indonesia and the understandings and use of capacity building. In particular the object of capacity building is generally individuals and groups operating within organisations, but not the organisations themselves. The Western emphasis on developing organisational capacity has not been widely adopted. The chapter concludes with discussion of challenges and lessons of the capacity building experiences in Indonesia. The conclusion of this chapter is sobering. There appears to be little insight into the dimensions of capacity building within Indonesia in general. Until greater research is undertaken and changes in understanding takes place, capacity building in Indonesia will continue to falter and result in less than optimal outcomes for intended community beneficiaries. Issues of capacity building in Ireland are discussed by Share in Chapter 9. This chapter examines approaches to capacity building in the context of post-’Celtic Tiger’ Ireland. It provides an analysis of urban regeneration in Dublin inner city. Ireland serves as an interesting case study: it is a small European country, with a strong tradition of ‘community’ action and development that has experienced an intense period of rapid and unprecedented social and economic change. Ireland has undergone massive social, economic and cultural transformation since the early 1990s, having gone from being considered a poor peripheral nation on the edge of Europe to being lauded as a nation with an excellent model of economic and social success. The chapter presents a case study of capacity building at work in the context of Dublin inner city renewal. It examines how capacity building processes fare in partnerships that involve commercial interests in housing and development, philanthropic investment in social transformation projects, government agents with national targets for the delivery of children and family services and community members themselves. It considers how the social transformation processes position community interests; how power dynamics are enacted; and the potential for sustainability of programmes backed by time-tied government and philanthropic funding. Stoecker considers capacity building and power in the United States in Chapter 10. Interestingly, Stoecker’s starting point is that the principles and practices of community capacity building common in the Unites States are quite distinct when compared to the typologies of practice found outside of the United States. The dominant form of capacity

18 Introduction

building in the United States has been, like community development, highly technical and specialised. As US community development has contrasted with the rest of the world by focusing narrowly on the ‘bricks and mortar’ of physical development, capacity building has concentrated on the narrow challenges of managing non-profit organisations and programmes. The consequence is also eerily similar: the depoliticisation of an inherently political process. Non-profit organisations are taught how to operate as businesses, how to put fiscal management ahead of community empowerment, how to conform to an increasingly narrow set of operating procedures. All of this contrasts with a counter trend that has not been defined as capacity building, but much better fits the definition. The counter trend is community organising – the practice of building leadership and organisations within grassroots communities that go on to fight for changes in laws and policies that have historically supported the oppression and exploitation of those communities. This form of capacity building employs the comprehensive scope of the international model, but differs in two important ways. First, it is explicitly political, seeing community development as a consequence of changed power structures and policies. Second, the outside expert’s job is to build self-sufficient community-based expertise that can allow the community to choose its own issues and chart its own development course. After describing this model and contrasting it with the US model and a non-US typology of capacity building, the chapter discusses examples of its implementation. Stoecker concludes with equal doses of optimism and pessimism. He takes some hope in the community activism of the new President and the recent upswing in interest in community organisation on university campus, but questions whether the recent global financial crisis will override efforts to switch focus away from corporate needs to local community needs. His final question is whose capacity, and which capacity, will we build? Chapter 11 by Connors, considers capacity building in Transitional Towns. Transitional Towns are a relatively recent experiment in social living based on the predicted peak oil crisis, issues of climate change and other environmental degradation. While the first Transitional Town (transitioning from reliance on oil) was established in 2006, there are already close to 200 towns, cities, villages and communities across fourteen countries operating under this approach. Within this chapter, Connors firstly introduces the concept of the Transition Town movement and its underlying principles before exploring the links between the capacity building and Transitional Town movement. He then provides a critical analysis of the nature of community-based initiatives

Sue Kenny and Matthew Clarke 19

that are designed to build community capacity within this movement. The chapter then engages with the capacity building literature in relation to community development in order to critically frame an understanding of the Transition Town approach. Connors pays particular attention to aspects of governance, leadership, recognition of prior capacity and ownership of process – all of which are relevant issues in the capacity building discourse. Of particular interest is the use of examples of Transitional Towns from Australia and England to illustrate this discussion. This leads to a critique outlining the strengths and limitations of capacity building in the TT movement and the implications of this for communities and the movement. The conclusion offers some insights into possible ways to build on the strengths of the movement while minimising the limitations. In the concluding chapter Kenny and Clarke draw together the explorations of capacity building presented in the book and offers some starting points for critical engagement. The chapter focuses on questions regarding the orientation, approach, rationale and expectations of a capacity building project.

References Beck, U. (2006) (Trans. by C. Cronin) The Cosmopolitan Vision. Cambridge: Polity Press. Considine, M. and Painter, M. (1997) ‘Introduction’, in M. Considine and M. Painter (eds), Managerialism: The Great Debate, pp. 1–11. Melbourne: Melbourne University Press. Chapman, M. and Kirk, K. (2001) Lessons for Community Capacity Building: A Summary of the Research Evidence. Scottish Homes, Scottish Government. Craig, G. (2007) ‘Community capacity building: Something old, something new …?’, Critical Social Policy, 27: 335–359. DeFilippis, J., Fisher, R. and Shragge, E. (2009) ‘What’s left in the community? Oppositional politics in contemporary practice’, Community Development Journal, 44(1): 38–52. Edwards, M. (2004) Civil Society. Cambridge: Polity Press. Ehrenberg, J. (1998) Civil Society: The Critical History of an Idea. New York: New York University Press. Freire, P. (1972) Pedagogy of the Oppressed. Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin. Gaventa, J. (2001) ‘Global citizen action: Lessons and Challenges’, in Edwards, M. and Gaventa, J. (eds), Global Citizen Action. London: Earthscan, pp. 275–287. Habermas, J. (1971) Toward a Rational Society. London: Heinemann. Ife, J. and Tesoriero, F. (2006) Community Development: Community-based Alternatives in an Age of Globalisation. Melbourne Pearson 3rd edn. Isin, F. and Nielsen, G. (2008) Acts of Citizenship. London: Zed Books. James, R. (ed.) (2001) Power and Partnership? Experiences of NGO CapacityBuilding, NGO Management and Policy Series No. 12. Oxford: INTRAC.

20 Introduction Kenny, S. (2002) ‘Tensions and dilemmas in community development: New discourses, new Trojans?’, Community Development Journal, 37(4): 284–299. Morgan, P. (1999) An Update on the Performance Monitoring of Capacity Development Programmes. What are We Learning?, Paper presented at the meeting of the DAC Informal Network on Institutional and Capacity Development held in Ottawa, May 3–5th, 1999. Mowbray, M. (2005) ‘Community capacity building or state opportunism?’, Community Development Journal, 40(3): 255–264. Powell, F. and Geoghegan, M. (2006) ‘Beyond political zoology: Community development, civil society and strong democracy’, Community Development Journal, 41(2): 128–142. Rosenblum, N. and Prost, R. (2002) ‘Introduction’, in Rosenblum, N. and Prost, R. (eds), Civil Society and Government, pp. 1–5. Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press. Sterland, B. (2006) Civil Society Capacity Building in Post-Conflict Societies: The Experience of Bosnia and Herzegovina and Kosovo, Praxis Paper No. 6, INTRAC. Szerszynski and Urry (2002) ‘Cultures of cosmopolitanism’, in Sociological Review, 50(4): 461–481. Turner, B. S. (2006) Vulnerability and Human Rights. University Park, Pennsylvania: The Pennsylvania State University Press. Verity, F. (2007) Community Capacity Building: A Review of the Literature. Adelaide: Department of Health, Government of South Australia. Warren, M. (2001) Democracy and Association. Princeton: Princeton University Press. World Bank (1998) Kecamatan Development Project. Project Appraisal Document Report. Washington: World Bank.

2 Developing Capacities and Agency in Complex Times Chris Miller

Community capacity building has joined the many other ambiguous, and contested concepts associated with the field of social development producing what Kenny (2002) described as a ‘melded’ or ‘fused’ discourse that can act as a Trojan horse for neo-liberal ideas within community development.1 Capacity building with its focus on what McKnight described as building from the inside out puts emphasis on consensus building, sustaining multiple and diverse networks and relationships, identifying and celebrating community strengths and assets, generating broad-based community involvement toward mutual gain, developing whole community visions for the future and identifying steps that can be taken to make such visions real. As Craig (2007) has argued, the almost global fixation with capacity building is a recent phenomenon, dating from the early 1990s, but one that has swept across the various policy, practitioner and academic communities and generated a growing literature largely espousing its benefits with some notable dissenting voices notwithstanding (Mowbray, 2005; Powell and Geoghegan, 2006; DeFilippis et al., 2009). This has been paralleled by a set of handbooks and guides to the practice and a growing number of welfare professionals encouraged to embrace capacity building as part of their remit but often with little or no training and education in community development (Hoggett et al., 2009). Meanwhile, extensive and comprehensive literature reviews (Verity, 2007; Chapman and Kirk, 2001) have thoroughly documented the multiple meanings and objectives attached to community capacity building leading Verity to call for a conceptual rethinking and further critical questioning (2007:28). This chapter hopes to contribute to this process of critical rethinking by locating the near universal popularity of community capacity building within a particular political and economic context. It 21

22 Developing Capacities and Agency in Complex Times

will then be suggested that despite the confusion, however, the ongoing development of human capacities, including those for collective action, remains a critical element in community development precisely at a time when there is both far less certainty about the outcomes to be pursued and growing social and economic inequalities at global and local levels. The emergence of community capacity building as a primary practice objective is also an important reminder of the association between politics – what is feasible in any particular context – and community interventions both in the form of insertions into community and as expressions of community, or rather the organisations and individuals that claim to represent that entity (DeFilippis, 2001). Although the label, ‘capacity builder’ has yet to emerge as a designated job title and specification to replace that of the community development practitioner, ‘capacity building’ or an assets-based community development, known as the ABCD approach (Kretzman and McKnight, 1993) through mechanisms such as ‘appreciative inquiry’ and ‘community visioning’, is increasingly seen as what community development workers ‘do’ or should do. Thus in practice, by presenting itself as the only viable approach in a largely conservative climate, it has virtually if not entirely squeezed out other previously influential models and particularly community organising or community action (DeFilippis et al., 2009; Saegert, 2006). In those countries where the state or large philanthropic foundations are largely responsible, either directly or indirectly, for funding community development work and employing its practitioners, ‘capacity building’ is what they pay to have done. For example, the UK government, building on its earlier programmes, ‘ChangeUp’ and ‘Futurebuilders Fund’ created ‘Capacity Builders’ (2006), a Non-Departmental Public Body, to support the ‘modernisation’ of the Third Sector and positioned it alongside the new Office of the Third Sector located within the Cabinet Office and thereby theoretically close to the centre of government. Most recently, under the heading, ‘Real Help for Communities’ (Office of the Third Sector, 2009) the UK Government has been investing further in the Third Sector so that it might play a more significant role in providing services and support to individuals and communities caught up in the global economic recession.

Capacity building as a model not panacea Community development can be understood as part of the modern social democratic project, a civilising project, to develop, establish, maintain and extend democratic practices and institutions. The limitation is that

Chris Miller 23

this democratic project is to be unfolded within the frameworks of capitalist economies that intrinsically promote widening inequalities and the self-interested pursuit of wealth creation. The state in capitalist society has repeatedly had to find ways to balance this contradictory task of advancing social democracy so as to bring political legitimacy whilst ensuring the sustainability of advanced capitalism (Offe, 1984). But, and here lies the rub, democratic practices once unleashed are hard to control or rein-in. As Shaw (2008) argues, whilst community development ‘can be appropriated to maintain the status quo and preserve privilege it can also create an increasingly rare public space for the expression of various forms of common position and collective identity or, indeed, dissent’ (p. 33) acting as a ‘lens through which existing structures and practices can be critically scrutinised …’ (p. 34). What has divided community development at the level of both theory and practice is how to advance the cause of social justice and reform, the extent to which economic and political systems can accommodate these competing agendas or whether they merely contribute significantly to inequities and injustice. This has led to a divide between those that adopt a community organising or action model, built on the assumption that change occurs only through conflict, and those concerned with community building (Smock, 2004; Capraro, 2004; Chaskin, 2001; Stoecker, 2003). Yet without an understanding of the realpolitik, of what is feasible and what is necessary then such competing strategies are in danger of being reduced to little more than rhetoric, as in reality development workers are more likely to be operating with multiple approaches, simultaneously engaged in capacity building and conflict strategies. Saegert (2006) suggests that the fundamental division between those predisposed to one approach over all others is a personal preference for confrontational or consensus methods (p. 283). However, the issue is not so much about personal preferences but rather with the practitioner’s capacity for critical analytical thinking, an appreciation of the relationship between the local and the wider political economy and the limitations as well as the possibilities of the local. Methods are highly contextualised and should be derived from analysis not personal preference. What is of particular concern is that the adoption of community capacity building has occurred within and further contributed to a depoliticised context and despite increasing social, political and economic inequalities. Community building and its associated strengthening of harmonious relationships has become an end in itself, shaped by globalisation and neo-liberalism, rather than a means to a larger project of social justice and a deepening democracy (DeFilippis

24 Developing Capacities and Agency in Complex Times

et al., 2009). It has detached community development from its political moorings. It has not been adopted as a specific strategic intervention, an option to be chosen from a number of possibilities and that can be defended as appropriate in terms of time, place and people (Saegert, 2006:291) but one that remains open to critical analysis from alternative perspectives. Rather it has become a taken-for-granted option that may well reflect the loss of expertise in community organising and a search for meaning in their work amongst those who practise and manage community development. There are a number of influences behind the emergence of the community capacity building concept. However, there is a view that it has simply replaced the equally ambiguous and contested idea of community development and that they are essentially the same. Both are certainly equally vague in relation to the contexts in which they are applied, the hoped for outcomes and the interests they might serve. Both contain different standpoints in relation to how they might connect with bigger concerns such as the extension or strengthening of various forms of democracy, the distribution of and access to wealth and resources or the provision of essential services to ensure collective wellbeing. Community development itself has always been something of a loose umbrella term containing a number of models or approaches to practice reflecting both competing value positions and a sense of what is achievable in a particular context (Shaw, 2008). To add further confusion, the term community development is also the name given to one such model and is perhaps the closest to that of community building. Other models have included, community organising or social action, social planning and more recently, community practice (Rothman, 1978). Some models of development have adopted a social pathology perspective and sought ways to influence those who for some personal or collective failing have been left behind the advancing tides of social and economic progress. Others have emerged from a structuralist account seeing profound inequalities whether within or between nation states as the inevitable outcome of prevailing economic and social systems. Across the different approaches there have been tensions concerning the relative importance given to processes and outcomes, to means and ends, that was well summarised over forty years ago by Batten (1967) as that between ‘directive’ and ‘non-directive’ work and whether the work was primarily educative or action focused. In attempting to resolve such differences various writers have called upon the work of activist/theorists such as Gramsci and Freire to stress both the importance of starting with and building upon before then going beyond the immediate context in

Chris Miller 25

which people live out their daily lives and demonstrating ways in which the questioning of practices, assumptions and meanings within civil society can impact upon wider hegemonic discourses (Sayer, 1986; Popple, 1995; Ledwith, 2005). Yet even for those practitioners working within a social justice framework – community organisers in the USA and radical community workers in the UK, Australia and elsewhere – community development has always involved working with fragile and disadvantaged communities as a prerequisite to greater effectiveness in tackling structural disadvantage. Such work has included, building new or strengthening existing community-based organisations, establishing community networks, supporting a local leadership, enabling community members to become more confident in finding their voice, supporting communities to identify common concerns or resolve community conflicts. Much of it has been concerned to establish connections between private or local troubles and public or global issues while enabling communities to acquire the necessary skills and expertise to challenge those institutions perceived to be either responsible for or able to alleviate the consequences of issues critical to the community. Such work is without doubt what today would be considered capacity building. However, within a social justice framework these activities were done not in a vacuum but rather with the objective of maximising individual and collective agency. It was work that recognised the systemic and interconnected nature of social, economic and political inequalities and impacts on those disadvantaged. It sought to respond by enabling variously defined communities to more effectively contest both the underlying assumptions and outcomes and to challenge those who benefit most from the prevailing unequal socio-economic structures. It saw the need too to make connections with others more influential and powerful such as social movements, trade unions and political parties to assist in this process of change. In other words it was capacity building for social change rather than for the purposes of ‘getting on’ or bettering oneself, family or close associates, which is what often lies at the root of policies promoting its contemporary namesake.

Community capacity building within a social justice agenda It is important to acknowledge that a social justice or community organising approach did not preclude considerable time spent on what today would be considered more basic and essential community building tasks,

26 Developing Capacities and Agency in Complex Times

including the invaluable work done to bring together previously hostile or alienated communities to explore differences, discover commonalities and find more harmonious ways of living alongside each other in what are often stressful and challenging circumstances. Nor did it exclude supporting community initiatives in response to local needs not yet recognised by the state, or to services neglected or abandoned. Equally, it responded to unpredictable events visited upon a community and on those activities felt to be important by the local community that it wished to address through using its own internal resources, including the building of an alternative local economy. Equally, a social justice perspective embraced educational work either in the form of opening up new opportunities for individual community members previously denied access to education to extend their knowledge and skill or a broad-based campaign to heighten awareness in relation to a public concern. Nor did such work fail to give due recognition and affirmation to current and historic community strengths and resilience through such events as festivals, cultural and artistic celebrations and activities, building community histories and archives, or staging events designed to bring all community members together simply to enjoy each other’s company, irrespective of such differentiations as age, ethnicity, faith, housing tenure, employment status, household composition or neighbourhood boundaries. Such community capacity building work was undertaken because it featured high on the priorities of local communities, was needed and identified as such, and was valued as a positive objective in and of itself. Nor was it done reluctantly or as a diversion from or a means to achieve some other more important goal. In other words, working with fragile communities cannot avoid engaging in a wide range of community capacity building activities with individuals, communitybased groups, organisations and broad-based, diverse, interrelated communities. Further such a social justice framework was also frequently underpinned by government policy and embedded within professional guidelines, codes of practice and employer job specifications. Indeed, Saegert (2006) argues convincingly that whilst divided by rhetoric, in practice there may be little difference between the day-to-day activities of those advocates of more explicitly conflict-based approaches and those committed to community building. However, this is not to suggest that community organising was or is without its shortcomings and in the UK at least it is only relatively recently that the contested nature of community and the depth in intra community conflict have been fully appreciated (Hoggett, 1997; Local Government Association, 2002).

Chris Miller 27

However, the differences between community organising models and those of community building are not all simply about semantics. The earlier versions of community building nestled within a social justice framework and supported by government were developed as a policy response to what were perceived to be pockets of deprivation or disadvantaged neighbourhoods that required additional support to enable them to experience the fruits of economic growth. Indeed, in the UK there was genuine shock amongst politicians and the broader policy-making communities at the ‘rediscovery of poverty’ in the mid1960s following the introduction of post-war welfare reforms and the creation of the modern welfare state. For social reformers the puzzle was why certain neighbourhoods or social groups did need additional support, a question that regularly produced answers based on social pathology that community development projects would subsequently attempt to discredit. Whether in the USA with its ‘War on Poverty’ programme or the various area-based initiatives in the UK, including the twelve experimental Community Development Projects (1968–78) (see Loney, 1983, for a full account) a core assumption was that such groups could be ‘lifted’ out of poverty to join the mainstream. In other words these were programmes of hope and constructed on a platform of growth and progress, as were the original development models devised by the UK Colonial Office in relation to the former colonies (du Sautoy, 1963).

The impact of market driven globalisation Despite the recent echo of a similar theme in the social inclusion strategies of the UK and Australia, the context in which community development has been practised has altered significantly in at least three ways. The most critical factor was the widespread emergence of neo-liberalism with its accompanying critique of state welfare as creating a ‘dependency culture’ and the assertion of the market as the only true mechanism to generate long-term and well-founded wellbeing. The former UK Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher famously pronounced that there is no such thing as society but that only individuals and families operating within the market mattered and that the good-will of others operating through faith-based and charitable bodies was all there was when individuals suffered hardship through ill-fortune or short-term market failure. Neo-liberalism was not simply a political philosophy but also the active pursuit of self-interest and the conscious destruction of those institutions, such as trade unions, social

28 Developing Capacities and Agency in Complex Times

movements and other forms of collectivism that espoused an alternative vision. For Thatcher and other neo-liberals there was to be no alternative. This period of aggressive neo-liberalism with the pursuit of competitive self-interest encouraged and rewarded and the destruction of collective ties left deep scars on the social fabric. As one UK Think Tank recently argued, ‘a society that makes large numbers of its citizens feel that they are looked down on will inevitably incur the costs of people’s antisocial reactions’ (Compass, 2006:24). These shortcomings long argued by progressives were identified also by those such as communitarian writers (Etzioni, 1993) who while deeply critical of state management were also fearful of the consequences of what they saw as the hollowing out of individual and community social responsibility. For some communitarians this reflected the continuing legacy of earlier state dependency that was now so severe as to require the (re)-imposition through government policies on families and communities of moral or social responsibility, most commonly by making government programmes of support conditional upon ‘appropriate’ behaviours on the part of the recipient. The second major factor was those writers most notably Robert Putnam (2000) who identified the decline in what has become known as social capital, those ties of reciprocity, mutual support and trust as undermining core social democratic values and practices, locking people and neighbourhoods into a spiral of decline and ultimately posing a threat to social order. In other words neo-liberalism in extreme forms stood accused of destroying or at least ignoring essential processes of social connectedness which if not addressed could have severe consequences for social order. This was not an argument against the overriding predominance of the market. Rather for social capital theorists building social capital was necessary in order for markets to function better, for people to find a place within them and to better ensure the legitimacy of the existing system. In other words, the paradox was that markets could not be free without social investment, a point made long ago by Polanyi (1944). Finally, it is not coincidental that community capacity building as a policy goal has emerged in response to globalisation, which in many European countries included growing social diversity following movements of global migration and conflict, and during a period in which neo-liberal economics and social conservatism dominated the agendas across the minority world, agendas that inevitably impacted significantly on policies pursued in the majority world. If free markets and the principles they embody are to be allowed to dominate and nation states are

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less able or willing to meet human needs either through redistributive policies or the provision of adequate universal welfare services then they face two challenges. The first is that of social order and the second is that of legitimacy. As Offe (1984) and others pointed out long ago managing such contradictions is the primary role of the state in capitalist societies. Tarrow (1998) too notes how non-repressive states have developed ways of dealing with the most challenging elements of contentious politics, controlling such forces by institutionalising and legitimising collective action. To that extent capacity building is an attempt to bring ‘communities’ back to life, to re-establish social bonds, to make meaningful the idea and practice of common interests, to bind such communities within a larger project of national identity and rebuild a sense of legitimacy in the dominant social and political institutions. The real challenge for older social democracies is how to build such an identity without reverting back to narrow and exclusive forms of ‘land and blood’ nationalism. In other words, to what extent can such nation states secure a national identity that both recognises social and cultural diversity and is sufficiently open as to embrace globalisation, or how to remain socially and politically connected while simultaneously as connected to others elsewhere (Putnam, 2007). Younger democracies, such as Australia and Canada, face similar dilemmas but do so from the perspective of ‘nation building’ in which everyone, other than the Indigenous populations, is a migrant. Here too the embrace of a new diversity poses severe challenges as earlier identities become less meaningful and a different global orientation is required.

The enduring power of capacity building So far it has been argued that community capacity building must be contextualised in what has been an ongoing democratic project within the confines of capitalist economics and the specific challenges currently facing social democracies as a consequence of the wholesale pursuit of neo-liberal policies, the perceived decline in the stock of social capital and the impact on nation states of globalisation particularly in respect of social and cultural diversity. Within such a context with fewer certainties concerning individual and collective wellbeing and the emergence of new social and economic divisions, community capacity building has indeed an important role to play in responding to these challenges in order to better secure contemporary democracies. Yet if it is important to have a critical understanding of the context in which community capacity building is to be applied so too is it important to understand what potential

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community capacity building brings to such contexts when reconnected to a social justice agenda. The power of capacity building as a concept perhaps lies in its ‘emptiness’ in that it speaks to human potential, to our latent or unrealised powers and resources or those we did not know we possessed. Indeed within the current politically conservative climate it has a quietly subversive quality about it. The concept of capacity is present in Marx’s notion of the good society as one in which human powers could freely develop rather than assuming the alienated form of the commodity or other reified ‘things’. It is also evident in the work of the psychoanalyst D. W. Winnicott (1976) who saw human development in terms of the realisation of such capacities. French (1999) drawing upon its use in psychoanalysis suggests that capacity acknowledges us not as fixed entities but rather by our capacities, as mutually influencing potentialities. A complete view of the human subject would see all capacities, including ethical, relational, and spiritual ones, as essential to full human subjecthood. A good society however would not only be one in which social arrangements would make it possible for them to flourish in a balanced way but would also inhibit, ameliorate or transform the worst in us (Hoggett et al., 2009:22–23). Nussbaum (2000, 2001) presents a similar perspective in advocating the universal application of certain human capabilities that would be found within a just society. These include, bodily integrity, imagination and thought, practical reason, affiliation and play, emotion, bodily health, senses, living with other species and control over one’s environment. However, this approach has been criticised by Sen (2002; see also 1999) for being overly culturally specific. A focus on our potential through the development of our capacities is a more fluid concept and avoids such the limitations of fixed capabilities. French (1999) draws our attention back to the root meaning of capacity – capax – as to be ‘able to take in’ or ‘able to hold much’. He points out that this continues to be reflected in contemporary everyday meanings that often refer to the concrete, spatial sense of containment, of expansion or limitation, as in a rainwater tank with the capacity to hold so many litres, or a capacity sports crowd. However, human capacity is neither predetermined nor static. It is only realised in use and can either develop through action or shrink through neglect. French again highlights how this is the translated into everyday language as in learning that broadens the mind or in reference to those who remain closed to new ideas. This might include an element of surprise as in not realising that someone had the capacity to achieve

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something. Such meanings again capture this sense of the expansive but bounded potentiality of human life (Senge, 1990:3–16). Thus the image of capacity involves potential expansion and containment, saturation, stasis, limitation or atrophy. Individual, collective or organisational capacities can be limited by neglect, by failures in development in oneself or by the repressive actions or attitudes of others. Capacity is often thought of as people rising above a certain situation, of meeting the challenge often against all the odds, in ways that are inspirational, and in so doing demonstrating perhaps unexpectedly personal qualities that were previously invisible, submerged or repressed. An alternative image is that of the person who is able to maintain and express a value or ethical position when everything around them appears to run against doing so, or who refuses to revert to a less challenging position despite having to endure continuous setbacks or opposition or when other options appear to offer easy rewards (Hoggett et al., 2009). Such experiences generate further questions such as what are the capacities that might be nurtured or strengthened or what could be achieved if the opportunity, resources and support were available? Conversely, in what ways might social systems block or facilitate human capacity? What is the relationship between social structures, particular circumstances and the meeting of biography, including still unresolved and unconscious dilemmas? The discourse of capacity stands in contrast to skill-based or competence models of learning. The latter refers to learning through the acquisition of skills or competencies taught by experts whereas the former speaks to learning from experience, reflection and reflexivity (Talbot, 1997). Competence-based learning is a linear or hierarchical conceptualisation, as the mastery of a succession of predefined skills (Broussine, 2000). Driven by a technical and instrumental rationality, it has underpinned much professional education whether in business management, social work or community development (Roberts, 1996; Schon, 1987). It coexists alongside an overlapping set of related neoliberal discourses that give emphasis to competitiveness, performance and target driven measurements and regulation (Miller et al., 2006). In contrast, human capacities cannot be taught but must be developed. Hence those working from a perspective of learning through experience argue that development or growth occurs through opportunities, usually with in relationships with significant others – ‘pedagogic agents’ to use Bourdieu and Passeron’s (1996) term – for expansion, broadening, breaking through or deepening our knowledge or understanding (French, 1999). Critically it is also linked to what Bion describes as

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having, ‘a capacity for experience’ (1961:143), perhaps the most fundamental capacity of all. To facilitate the realisation of potential my colleagues and I have argued that the development of capacities requires active learning processes such as the systematic mentoring of practice, learning by observing others and being observed, working through experiences in action learning sets, inquiry groups and practice-focused meetings, experientially-based forms of learning, and counselling, therapy and other personal development work (Mayo et al., 2007). Further this process of expansion is multidimensional including not only the intellectual and the political, but also the emotional and the actual, the personal and the systemic. Such learning expands our capacitas, or our ability to ‘hold much’, to contain or manage ourselves and for or with others, new dimensions of experience. Conversely, French and Simpson (2001) argue convincingly to take seriously both the limitations to our knowledge in any situation and the impact, practical and emotional, of what they describe as not knowing. More recently, Simpson et al. (2006), drawing on the work of Senge, have argued in the context of organisational change but equally applicable to any community setting for the importance of recognising what Bion described as ‘negative capability’. This is the ability to contain by what they term ‘reflective inaction’, the urge or desire to engage in defensive routines, such as splitting or projection, whenever one finds oneself leading at the edge of one’s knowledge, resources or trust (pp. 1213–1218). The concept of capacities points then to the need to contain emotions, to draw upon tacit, intuitive and unconscious knowledge, and to work at what are increasingly ambiguous boundaries of endeavour where one must cope with paradox and complexity and where there is ‘no right thing to do’ but without losing the capacity to act (Bauman, 1993) even when acting or choosing involves loss (Mendus, 2000). Jessop (2003) reflecting on problems of coordination suggest that we must anticipate failure while working on the assumption of success and advocates the adoption of the position of the romantic ironist as a way of coping with disappointment, who ‘accepts incompleteness and failure as essential features of social life but continues to act as if completeness and success were possible’ (p. 109). We can still ensure that the democratic project underpinned by social justice remains in place by thinking of capacity building in terms of human potentialities, as releasing unrealised or unknown powers. However, the social justice agenda itself is no longer as clear cut or unproblematic as it once appeared and answers to questions of injustice are less

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obviously forthcoming in the socially plural world of today. Nevertheless a developmental approach to capacity building can help focus on those psychical capacities that better enable community members and those with leadership roles to more effectively work with increasing complexity by remaining in a reflexive mode and avoiding a Kleinian ‘paranoid schizoid’ response of splitting, fragmenting and simplifying in other ways but rather strengthening what Klein describes as a ‘depressive position’ that allows one to recognise both the complexity in any situations and its accompanying sense of sadness about one’s own failings and the failings of others whilst still retaining the ability to act or to refrain from acting (Hoggett, Mayo and Miller, 2009:97–108). In that earlier publication attention was also drawn to the question of just how much complexity we could take in and how much of the reality could we face. We argued that the dilemmas generated by living in a complex world connect to internal worlds within ourselves, perhaps especially so in relation to self and authority or in confronting ethical dilemmas (Hoggett et al., 2006; Hoggett, 2005). As Sydney Hook noted previously, ‘faced by problems, nothing is better than thoughtful action, but our best actions may not be enough. We cannot escape risk because even an informed choice may be an unlucky one’ (Hook, 1974:59).

The limitations of the self in capacity building Engaging in capacity building within a social justice framework is challenging work. It requires the capacity builder and ultimately those with whom they work both to have strong but not idealised values, in other words based not so much on the super ego of what ought to be done and but more on the ego ideal or the good. It also requires one to be self-authorising, or possessing a sense of inner authority or belief in oneself that is brought to one’s own agency (Hoggett et al., 2009:102). However, there is much in our formative experiences that might block our ‘capacity for experience’ (Bion, 1961) and potential to be an active subject. Our ‘habitus’ in Bourdieu’s (1997) terminology, that unique combination of the interactions between the individual social actor and his/her social environment, the milieu in which we are all embedded and which predispose us toward certain ways of thinking and feeling, limiting our capacity for reflexive learning and engagement in the public domain. The concept of habitus attempts to capture the interactive relationship between human agency and social structure in which the human subject acts upon but is also shaped by social structures. Bourdieu’s work follows in a long tradition of radical/Marxist

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thinkers such as Lukacs, Gramsci, Freire and Lukes who have struggled with the theory and practice of agency ever since Marx pointed out that social actors are active agents but not in the circumstances of their choosing and spoke of ‘false consciousness’ to explain the failure of revolutionary action. Bourdieu argues that for much of the time social and political legitimation emerges at the level of acquired habitual assumptions that are taken for granted, are without the need for interrogation and are not part of the public discourse but are rather unspoken and prereflective. Further, Bourdieu points out that such self-evident practices of today might previously have been the subject of contestation, ‘the stake of struggles’, but are now hidden from view through the abolition of history, ‘by relegating to the past, that is, to the unconscious, the lateral possibilities that it eliminated’ (Bourdieu, 1998:56–57). It is the possession of different forms of ‘capital’ including social capital as well as educational, cultural and ideological, economic and political capital, what Bourdieu refers to as a ‘field’ that impacts our habitus in very different circumstances. The expectation of action embodied in the habitus thus has a ‘prereflexive fit’ with the constraints and opportunities imposed by a particular field. As we acquire more knowledge through our engagement in the field and have a better ‘feel for the game’ (Bourdieu, 1977:80) so the likelihood of our success within that field increases. Bourdieu argues that other than moments of crisis habitus influences who might participate in the public domain, the ways in which they participate and the expectations they hold about the outcomes of such participation. The crack of light in this process is represented by those apparently increasingly rare moments when there is sufficient dissonance between subjective expectations and objective outcomes to engender a public articulation and questioning of self-evident assumptions and practices. Such moments present opportunities for more critical and reflexive forms of praxis and rational forms of action (Bourdieu, 1990). Crossley (2003) is critical of Bourdieu for his ‘overly consensual picture of the social order’ and disregard for the durable impetus to critique (2003:45). Thus a crisis is also an amplification of such permanent features of protest and criticism. Crossley draws attention to the ways in which social movement participation, and no doubt other forms of collective action, creates a disposition towards further political activity, or a radical habitus, that can survive over time and beyond any specific crisis moment, especially when it is subsequently reinforced by symbolic forms of cultural capital and reflexive forms of practice, such as those identified earlier, within the area of contention. In such

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ways knowledge, commitment and reflexivity are conveyed and reproduce a radical culture. Once acquired it is then possible to transfer such a durable disposition for activism generated through actor participation over time, so that it too becomes ‘second nature’, from a specific field of contention to another and beyond to the broader social, political, cultural and economic fields. It is through such participation, founded on a critique, that actors continue to develop further and become accustomed to or feel at home with those attributes that Crossley identifies as the characteristics of the activist: a willingness to criticise elites; political know how, an ethos that encourages participation and a feel for protest and organising (2003:52). As indicated earlier and based on recent research (Hoggett, Mayo and Miller, 2009) other capacities may be considered as prerequisites for these more political and other-focused qualities. Nevertheless, those experienced in community development practice will be familiar with stories of community members whose journeys have taken them from an opportunity for a first encounter with participation in the public realm, including their own surprise and often delight in themselves, to the ongoing and extended acquisition of knowledge and understanding of themselves and the social world they inhabit and in which they see themselves as actors with the capacity to influence and shape outcomes of some importance. It is through such early encounters in particular that those discovering the active self begin to question previously held taken-for-granted assumptions and the social world and their place within it. While actors enter the political realm with predetermined resources or capital repeated exposure to and engagement within it enables them to add to their stock whilst also disposing of previously held but no longer useful resources. The task confronting the development worker employing a capacity building approach within a social justice model is how to enable community members recognise, surface and explore those deeply rooted, unconscious unquestioning assumptions and routines that shape our day-to-day lives. As Campbell’s (1993) study on working class men displaced in the labour market attests, this can be a painfully slow and resistant process whereas for the wives of UK miners involved in the two national strikes in the 1980s such awakenings can have monumental consequences as much for the communities and families as for the individuals concerned (Stead, 1987). It also requires a capacity for personal reflexivity on the part of the development worker and a willingness to surface one’s own hidden assumptions. Faced with the exacting daily demands of the job this is no easy task and requires a commitment to participate in reflective spaces with ‘critical friends’. It

36 Developing Capacities and Agency in Complex Times

also places a responsibility on managers to support such reflection and to provide the resources to do so and similarly it demands that those involved in the education and training of practitioners must prioritise the development of critical reflection as perhaps the core to good practice.

Conclusion This chapter began by noting the current and widespread emphasis given to community capacity building as a key policy driver suggesting that capacity building is now what community development practitioners are expected to deliver. To understand the emergence of this narrowly conceived approach it was argued that, as in so much of community development, context is critical and that the contemporary emphasis on community capacity building is largely a product of a conservative climate that continues to be influenced by neo-liberalism, albeit a slightly diluted or less aggressively confident form. We then argued that, in fact, capacity building has a long and distinguished record across all different models or approaches within community development as well as being a valuable method in its own right when applied appropriately. The concept of capacity is at heart a progressive indeed transformatory idea that speaks to the flowering of human potential and would be central to a radical notion of a good society. Thus there is another paradox within societies anxious about social and political legitimacy that the means to rebuild legitimacy through encouraging greater political participation potentially sow the seeds of their own destruction. Thus it is important especially during periods of conservatism that development practitioners exploit those opportunities for deepening insights and understanding of social structures and processes. Yet we are also rooted in ways of being that leave us resistant or hesitant about ‘making ourselves available for experience’ and the struggle is as ever to find opportunities that may draw us away from the conservatism within ourselves freeing ourselves from the reluctance to change. However, as Shaw and her co-editors (2006) remind us, ‘… community development should … vigorously reclaim one of its enduring core skills: making the connections between micro and macro dimensions of people’s experience in ways which exploit the ambiguities and ambivalence of participation for progressive democratic purposes’ (p. 13). Practitioners with a critical sense of the complex contexts in which they operate, thinking strategically, always asking questions of themselves as well as others, inviting experimentation, presenting new experiences and with a sharp sense of both the

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internal and structural constraints facing community members appreciative of the journeys undertaken to date while remaining grounded in a value framework is a good starting place.

Note 1 I would like to acknowledge my former colleagues at the Centre for PsychoSocial Studies, University of the West of England, and especially Paul Hoggett for their contribution to my thinking about capacities.

References Bauman, Z. (1993) Postmodern Ethics. London: Polity Press. Batten, T. R. (1967) The Non-Directive Approach to Youth and Community Work: A Critical Study of Method. London: Oxford University Press. Batten, T. R. (1974) ‘The major issues and future direction of community development’, Community Development Journal, 9(2): 96–103. Bion, W. R. (1961) Experiences in Groups. London: Tavistock Publications. Bourdieu, P. (1977) Outline of a Theory of Practice. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bourdieu, P. (1990) In Other Words. Cambridge: Polity. Bourdieu, P. (1998) Practical Reason. Cambridge: Polity. Bourdieu, P. and Passeron, J. (1996) Reproduction. London: Sage. Broussine, M. (2000) ‘The capacities needed by local authority chief executives’, International Journal of Public Sector Management, 13(6): 498–507. Campbell, B. (1993) Goliath: Britain’s Dangerous Places. London: Methuen. Capraro, J. F. (2004) ‘Community organising + community development = community transformation’, Journal of Urban Affairs, 26: 151–162. Chapman, M. and Kirk, K. (2001) Lessons for Community Capacity Building: A Summary of the Research Evidence. Edinburgh: Scottish Homes, Scottish Government. Chaskin, R. J. (2001) ‘Building community capacity: A definitional framework and case studies from a comprehensive community initiative’, Urban Affairs Review, 36: 291–323. Compass (2006) The Good Society: Compass Programme for Renewal. London: Compass and Lawrence and Wishart. Craig, G. (2007) ‘Community capacity building: Something old, something new …?’, Critical Social Policy, 27: 335–359. Crossley, N. (2003) ‘From reproduction to transformation: Social movement fields and the radical Habitus’, Theory, Culture & Society, 20(6): 43–68. DeFilippis, J. (2001) ‘The myth of social capital in community development’, Housing Policy Debate, 12: 781–805. DeFilippis, J., Fisher, R. and Shragge, E. (2009) ‘What’s left in the community? Oppositional politics in contemporary practice’, Community Development Journal, 44(1): 38–52. Du Sautoy, P. (1963) ‘A guide to the Administrator on the principles of community development’, Journal of Local Administration Overseas, October.

38 Developing Capacities and Agency in Complex Times Etzioni, A. (1993) The Spirit of Community. New York: Crown Inc. French, R. (1999) ‘The importance of capacities in psychoanalysis and the language of human development’, International Journal of Psychoanalysis, 80(6): 1215–1226. French, R. and Simpson, P. (2001) ‘Learning at the edges between knowing and not-knowing: “Translating” Bion’, Organisational and Social Dynamics, 1(1): 54–77. Hoggett, P. (1997) (ed.) Contested Communities: Experiences, Struggles, Policies. Bristol: Policy Press. Hoggett, P. (2005) ‘Human emotion and ethical dilemmas’, in A. Moran and S. Watson (eds), Trust, Risk and Uncertainty. Basingstoke: Palgrave. Hoggett, P., Mayo, M. and Miller, C. (2006) ‘On good authority’, Socio-Analysis, 8: 1–16. Hoggett, P., Mayo, M. and Miller, C. (2009) The Dilemmas of Development Work: Ethical Challenges in Regeneration. Bristol: Policy Press. Hook, S. (1974) Pragmatism and the Tragic Sense of Life. New York: Basic Books. Jessop, B. (2003) ‘Governance and metagovernance: On reflexivity, requisite variety and requisite irony’, in H. Bang (ed.), Governance as Social and Political Communication. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Kenny, S. (2002) ‘Tensions and dilemmas in community development: New discourses, new Trojans?’, Community Development Journal, 37(4): 284–299. Kretzsman, J. P. and McKnight, J. (1993) Building Community from the Inside Out: A Path Towards Finding and Mobilizing Community Assets. Evanston, Illinois: Centre for Urban Affairs and Policy Research, Northwestern University. Ledwith, M. (2005) Community Development: A Critical Approach. Bristol: Policy Press. Local Government Association (2002) Guidance on Community Cohesion. London: LGA Publications. Loney, M. (1983) Community Against Government: The British Community Development Project, 1968–78. London: Heinemann Educational Books. Mayo, M., Hoggett, P. and Miller, C. (2007) ‘Capacities of the capacity-builders: Should training frameworks include ethical and emotional dimensions?’, in J. Diamond, J. Liddle, A. Southern and A. Townsend (eds), Managing the City, pp. 133–145. London: Routledge. Mendus, S. (2000) Feminism and Emotion. Basingstoke: Macmillan. Miller, C., Hoggett, P. and Mayo, M. (2006) ‘The obsession with outputs: Over regulation and the impact on the emotional identities of public service professionals’, International Journal of Work, Organisation and Emotions, 1(4): 366–378. Mowbray, M. (2005) ‘Community capacity building or state opportunism?’, Community Development Journal, 40(3): 255–264. Nussbaum, M. (2000) Women and Human Development: The Capabilities Approach. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Nussbaum, M. C. (2001) ‘Symposium on Amartya Sen’s philosophy: Five adaptive preferences and women’s options’, Economics and Philosophy, 17(1): 67–88.

Chris Miller 39 Offe, C. (1984) Contradictions of the Welfare State. London: Hutchinson. Office of the Third Sector (2009) Real Help for Communities: Volunteers, Charities and Social Enterprises. London: Cabinet Office. Polanyi, K. (1944) (1957) The Great Transformation: The Political and Economic Origins of Our Time. Boston: Beacon. Popple, K. (1995) Analysing Community Work: In Theory and Practice. Buckingham: Open University Press. Powell, F. and Geoghegan, M. (2006) ‘Beyond political zoology: Community development, civil society and strong democracy’, Community Development Journal, 41(2): 128–142. Putnam, R. (2007) ‘E Pluribus Unum: Diversity and community in the twentyfirst century’, The 2006 Johan Skytte Prize Lecture, Scandinavian Political Studies, 30(1): 137–174. Putnam, R. (2000) Bowling Alone. New York: Simon and Schuster. Roberts, J. (1996) ‘Management education and the limits of technical rationality: The conditions and consequences of management practice’, in French, R. and Grey, C. (eds), Rethinking Management Education. London: Sage, pp. 54–75. Rothman, J. (1978) ‘Three models of community organizing practice, their mixing and phasing’, in F. M. Cox, J. Erlich, J. Rothman and J. Tropman (eds), Strategies of Community Organizing. Illinois: Peacock Publishers. Sayer, J. (1986) ‘Ideology: The bridge between theory and practice’, Community Development Journal, 21(4): 294–303. Shaw, M. (2008) ‘Community development and the politics of community’, Community Development Journal, 43(1): 24–36. Saegert, S. (2006) ‘Building civic capacity in urban neighbourhoods: An empirically grounded anatomy’, Journal of Urban Affairs, 28(3): 275–294. Schon, D. A. (1987) Educating the Reflective Practitioner. San Francisco: JosseyBass. Sen, A. (2002) ‘Justice across borders’, in P. de Grieff and C. Cronin (eds), Global Justice and Transnational Politics: Essays on the Moral and Political Challenges of Globalisation. Cambridge: MA, MIT Press. Sen, A. (1999) Development as Freedom. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Senge, P. (1990) The Fifth Dimension: The Art and Practice of the Learning Organisation. London: Century Books. Shaw, M. (2008) ‘Community development and the politics of community’, Community Development Journal, 43(1): 24–36, January. Shaw, M., Meagher, J. and Moir, S. (2006) (eds) Editorial Introduction: Participation in Community Development: Problems and Possibilities, A Concept Reader, Concept, University of Edinburgh. Simpson, P., French, R. and Harvey, C. (2006) ‘Leadership and negative capability’, Human Relations, 55(10): 1209–1226. Smock, K. (2004) Democracy in Action: Community Organizing and Urban Change. New York: Columbia University Press. Stead, J. (1987) Never the Same Again: Women and the Miner’s Strike. London: The Women’s Press Ltd. Stoecker, R. (2003) ‘Understanding the development-organizing dialectic’, Journal of Urban Affairs, 25: 493–512. Talbot, C. (1997) ‘Paradoxes of management development – Trends and tensions’, Career Development International, 2(3): 119–146.

40 Developing Capacities and Agency in Complex Times Tarrow, S. (1998) Power in Movement. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Verity, F. (2007) Community Capacity Building: A Review of the Literature. Department of Health, Government of South Australia, Adelaide. Winnicott, D. W. (1976) The Maturational Processes and the Facilitating Environment. London: Hogarth Press.

3 Community Capacity Building: Critiquing the Concept in Different Policy Contexts Gary Craig

The nature of ‘community’ and community development Fifteen years ago, the term ‘community capacity building’ (CCB) could not be found within the policy literature in the United Kingdom. Now it is ubiquitous, particularly in the context of urban policy, regeneration and social development. By 2000, a UK report described CCB as ‘the New Holy Grail’ (Duncan and Thomas, 2000:15), noting that the government’s major national regeneration programme contained more than 3000 separate CCB initiatives, and Soares (2005) observed, ‘any mention of civil society seems to include the term “capacity building”’. Increasing use of the term, however, raised more questions than it answered. Why is this and is there anything truly distinctive about the notion of community capacity building? This chapter reviews the origins of the concept, the way in which it is currently used across the world, offering a critique of this usage in a range of policy and political contexts.1 In understanding the meaning of CCB, we have to address the contextual language associated with it. Let us first be clear about the term ‘community’ itself. This is also to be found everywhere in the language of policy and politics, particularly, it seems, where politicians wish to engender feelings of wellbeing and consensus. Yet it is a term also loaded with contradictions and ambiguities. Hillery (1964), examining the literature fifty years ago, identified several hundred meanings, arguing that the only distinctive common characteristic was that of social interaction. Stacey’s influential 1969 paper, ‘The Myth of Community Studies’, indeed challenged the notion that there might be an entity which sociologists could recognise as ‘community’. 41

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In the early 1980s, one commentator viewed the-then enthusiasm amongst many governments for the word ‘community’ as a cynical, superficial gloss on policy programme; ‘community’ was a ‘spray-on additive’ (Bryson and Mowbray, 1981 cited in Craig, 1989:9). Certainly, its usage within many recent public policy programmes – in community safety, community policing, community health, community education, and so on – suggests that governments hope that it will convey a sense of ‘community’ ownership of such programmes. The idea of ‘community’ – with other key concepts such as opportunity, accountability and responsibility – has been central to the development of what UK New Labour governments from 1997 (and similar centre-left governments elsewhere) regarded as the Third Way approach to social and economic policy, steering a line between the policies of the Old Left (characterised by excessive state control and collectivism) and those of the New Right (marked by excessive individualism) (Powell, 2000). Although New Labour constantly ‘paid homage to the idea of community since 1997’ (Nash with Christie, 2003:22), the concept has been elusive and Blairism had ‘a long and largely abstract romance’ (Benn, 2000) with it. As Nash and Christie note, ‘community’ appears to have greatest resonance when New Labour talks about poverty. The UK government made extensive use of the term ‘community’ within its flagship New Deal for Communities (NDC) programme which invested significant funding in thirty-nine deprived ‘communities’, putting these communities ‘at the heart of renewal’ (Taylor, 2003:124). However, as Taylor notes (Ibid.), local communities (in this case, geographical areas defined in terms of a range of indicators of deprivation) were given little say ‘in the criteria by which they (the programmes) will be judged’ (Ibid.), and were excluded from effective control of the programmes because of the structures, notably top-down systems of decision-making installed by government. In many instances, local plans for regeneration were rejected by government (Nash and Christie, 2003). As Benington and Donnison (1999: cited in Lister, 2001:432) and others have argued, the continuing focus on small ‘deprived’ areas, labelled in New Labour-speak as communities, runs the risk of ‘diverting attention away from the wider political economic forces which cause and maintain the concentrations of poverty and unemployment in these areas’. Similarly, Taylor notes that ‘community’ can be invested with a variety of meanings which ‘cover the faultlines of economic decline and community fragmentation’ (op. cit.:2); and as Mendes (2006:247) notes ‘“Spraying-on” community

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as a solution to social problems provides no guarantee of progressive outcomes.’ In parallel, those writing about – and practising – community development, have struggled over the past fifty years to define what ‘community’ means for their practice. In current global discourse about community development, ‘community’ has three basic meanings: first, it refers to a geographical community, a collection of people living within a fairly well-defined physical space – a discrete housing development, a neighbourhood, a rural village or a refugee camp. This has been the most common usage of the term, shaping the job descriptions of many community development workers (CDWs). CDWs from both North and South however, came to recognise from the 1960s that seeing ‘community’ simply as a geographical entity did not address the realities of conflict or tensions between different interests within spatially-defined communities (Craig, 1989). These tensions might take the form of religious or ethnic conflict (as in Northern Ireland or Bosnia), disagreements based on class or age, or the desire of some groups to assert specific needs based perhaps on sexuality, gender, ethnicity or disability. In short, ‘community’ needed to incorporate the dimension of diversity. Much of the language of government fails to acknowledge this, implicitly denying that communities may be the site of contestation as much as of consensus (except, increasingly, when the discourse becomes racialised). An example of this fragmentation within a geographical community is apparent in the experience of an NDC programme in East London which has seen conflict and competition for resources both between white and Bangladeshi populations but also between elements within the Bangladeshi population (Dinham, 2005). The second cross-cutting type of community identified by CDWs was thus a community of identity. Within and between geographical communities there might be a wide range of communities of identity which may have differing needs and interests. Seeing community as a site of conflict between competing interests presents a challenge to the political approach of communitarianism, a political philosophy strongly promoted by New Labour. As Dwyer notes (2000:28 citing Avineri and de Shalit, 1995), a ‘strong sense of community, defined as “a body with some common values, norms and goals in which each member regards the common goal as her own” is, for communitarians, a basic need’. However, whilst ‘community’ is of central importance to communitarians, New Labour’s communitarian-inspired view of community is one which (Driver and Martell, 1998) is characterised by conformity,

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conditionality and moral prescription driven by ‘top-down’ policy solutions rather than those developed through democratic dialogue from within communities themselves. Government does not respond to agendas set from below but shapes policy programmes from above, for communities, driven by its own political agendas. Thirdly, community workers have often found themselves engaged in relatively short-term work, focused on particular issues such as improving housing conditions, improving road safety at school crossings, or protecting aspects of the environment through campaigns around river or factory pollution. These groups constitute issue-based communities.

The practice of community development Community development has also been used to cover a range of understandings of practice and outcome. The history of community development can be traced back to the 1950s at least (Craig, 1989) but in the late 1980s/early 1990s, many governments and international organisations ‘re-discovered’ community development, although not always labelling it as such. Thus the World Bank viewed ‘community participation’ as a means for ensuring that Third World Development projects ‘reached the poorest in the most efficient and cost-effective way, sharing costs as well as benefits, through the promotion of self-help’ (Craig and Mayo, 1995:2). Their programmes, better known for fiscal conservatism than for political and social risk-taking, led, however, to the undermining of local community social and economic structures whilst appearing to advocate the importance of ‘community’, an example of the confusion which surrounds this and related terms such as community empowerment. The United Nations Development Programme commented (UNDP, 1993) that it had ‘people’s participation as its special focus. …(It) … is becoming the central issue of our time’ (Craig and Mayo, op. cit.). In reality, these international agencies have given scant attention to issues of social justice, with respecting the dignity and humanity of the poorest, their right to participate in decisions which affect them, or with mutuality and equality, principles which underpin the philosophy and practice of community development as understood by practice-based organisations.2 A wide-ranging definition of community development was agreed at a conference convened in 2004 by international community development organisations. This Budapest Declaration is significant because it was drawn together by delegates from more than thirty countries, from across Europe but also Asia, Africa and North America.3 It provides a

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useful statement against which the following discussion about CCB can be set: Community development is a way of strengthening civil society by prioritising the actions of communities, and their perspectives in the development of social, economic and environmental policy. It seeks the empowerment of local communities, taken to mean both geographical communities, communities of interest or identity and communities organising around specific themes or policy initiatives. It strengthens the capacity of people as active citizens through their community groups, organisations and networks; and the capacity of institutions and agencies … to work in dialogue with citizens to shape and determine change in their communities. It plays a crucial role in supporting active democratic life by promoting the autonomous voice of disadvantaged and vulnerable communities. To serve the interests of local communities, community development promotes local ‘voice’, encouraging the ability to be critical of established policy and political positions. National and international ‘community development programmes’ often have not allowed this political space, as programmes from the ill-starred UK Home Office CDP onwards have learnt to their cost (CDP, 1977). Such programmes are not really, in the sense outlined by the Budapest Declaration, community development programmes because they allow little control by the community itself with, again, ‘top-down’ policy prescriptions taking precedence over ‘bottom-up’ community analyses, also failing to understand potential divisions within communities with which CDWs have to work. Oxfam criticises the badging of ‘top-down’ programmes as community development, reiterating the importance of understanding community as a site of conflict. Although ‘bottom-up’ community development came from the ‘realisation that development decisions made by professionals and those in power have not really worked, often misunderstanding or oversimplifying issues … and so devising inappropriate solutions’ the use of community-led development can also be flawed by assumptions that ‘communities are homogeneous and work automatically towards the common good’ (Oxfam, 2004:12). Oxfam argued that much community-led development still ‘ignores diversity issues within a community and many community management structures over-represent the dominant elite’ (Ibid.). Community development is not only a practice, involving skills, knowledge, and a strong value base. It is also a goal, self-evidently the development of communities or, as it is currently fashionable to

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describe it, building the capacity of communities. This leads to the issue of CCB itself.

Community capacity building: scope and definitions Since the late 1990s, the term community capacity building began to be used widely within both ‘developed’ and ‘developing’ countries, describing activities involving work with local deprived communities, to promote fuller engagement with social, economic and political life. As with the term community, there was little clarity in its use; nor was it clear why it should have emerged so strongly into policy discourse. The first references to capacity building in the literature date from the early 1990s, in the work of UNCED (1992), Agenda 21 and the UN Commission on Sustainable Development. (UNDP, 1991) although some commentators claim its origins lie within Europe (KirkleesMC, 2004). The UNDP definition focused on the role of the UN itself in supporting capacity building. This was seen (McGinty, 2003:5) as to do with ‘building capacity for the formulation of plans and strategies in support of sustainable development …’, a definition emerging in the context of water sector capacity building which Srinivas (2005) suggested was about ‘building the capacity of cities and urban areas to handle their environments (covering) human resource development, organisational … institutional and legal framework development’. UNCED (1992:232) suggested that capacity building encompassed ‘the country’s human, scientific, technological, organizational, institutional and resource capabilities’ (see also UN, 1996). As McGinty (op. cit.) argued, however, ‘the acknowledgment that the UN needed better capacity in its interface with communities was the point at which the discussion and models of community capacity building for provider organizations and government shifted to a more participative mode’ and links with community development acknowledged. Capacity building then elided in policy discourse into community capacity building. The first major European allusion to CCB came in a report to the European Commission (EC, 1996:68) regarding strategies for community economic development in areas of ‘low economic activity whose members have lost the ability to compete in the labour market’, i.e. disadvantaged communities. Banks and Shenton (2001) argue that the ‘Northern’ approach to CCB initially relied heavily on US experience, following the Community Investment Act, which facilitated access by communitybased organisations to advice and training in ‘the market’, This focused more on the provision of business and management skills to individuals.

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Northern thinking was also increasingly influenced by the development literature where what had frequently been ‘top-down’ project work was increasingly replaced by a recognition of the need to ‘strengthen people’s capacity to determine their own values and priorities and organise themselves to act on this’ (Eade and Williams, 1995:64; Oxfam, op. cit.). From these contradictory origins, the concept has been adapted to a wide variety of national and policy contexts, some more concerned with building the strengths and capacities of organisations (not always those which worked with ‘communities’) and others more specifically to do with building the capacity of communities themselves. Although CCB is the focus of this discussion, boundaries remain blurred: thus, building the capacity of organisations within deprived communities is often seen to be a part of CCB. For example, Ahmed et al. (2004:20), reflecting on capacity building for faith communities, argue that it is to ‘strengthen groups’ organisational capabilities … to sustain themselves in order to play a fuller part in civil society and community cohesion and engage more fully with public authorities’. The narrower term ‘capacity building’ remains in common usage in the development literature (Hailey et al., 2005; Hursey, 2005; James and CABUNGO, 2005). By 2001, use of the term CCB had become so widespread within many Northern countries that it became the target of sceptical humour. At one UK activists’ conference, it was caricatured as ‘developing local skills in a way that ensures people are able to know what is missing’ (cited in Beazley et al., 2004:5). Another writer likened it to public participation, referring to Arnsteian’s earlier definition as ‘like eating spinach, because ultimately it is good for you’ (Ibid.:1). The term had come to convey such a range of meanings that it was often seen to increase confusion rather than provide clarity, leading some to suggest it should be dropped altogether. There remained, however, a strong counter-view that ‘the broad ideas and activities described as “capacity building” … are essential in eliminating poverty’ (www.developments.org.uk/data/14/ms_capacity. htm) making it difficult to dismiss entirely. Given its political commitment to combating poverty, the first UK New Labour government had claimed to regard CCB as a ‘key idea’ (SEU, 2000). However, as Stoker and Bottom (2003:6) noted, ‘with every new policy area, there is a new jargon to be invented and learnt … this perspective applies with particular force in the area of community capacity-building’. Their analysis of the way in which New Labour characterised the ‘problem’ leading to the need for CCB included ‘a lack of formal engagement in politics, lack of capacity to engage in institutions of democracy, reflecting social exclusion, lack of basic infrastructure to support community life, and

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the need to support individuals so that they can become full members of society’ (Ibid.). The sense of confusion in the UK has led to attempts to interrogate its meaning. For example, Humm (2005) addressed the question of whether CCB and community development were the same thing but although, as with other analyses (Chapman and Kirk, 2001), it concluded that community development might be seen as a slightly wider term, the ‘capacity-builders’ responsible for CCB were, in most important senses, identified as generic CDWs. In a study of local NGOs (Banks and Shenton, 2001), respondents failed to see any difference between the terms ‘community development’ and ‘CCB’; the authors suggested again that CCB might be seen as a narrower element of a broader community development process. The UK Charity Commission, which regulates the activity of charities, decided recently – reflecting increased interest in the concept – to include ‘community capacity-building’ in its limited list of charitable aims (joining education and the relief of poverty). The Commission defined communities in terms of geography or interest, but limited to socially and economically disadvantaged areas. It defined CCB (Charity Commission, 2000:3) as: Developing the capacity and skills of the members of a community in such a way that they are better able to identify and help meet their needs and to participate more fully in society. This is remarkably close to – albeit shorter than – the definition of community development emerging from Budapest. It is significant that the Commission debated at length whether to use the term community development instead of CCB, perhaps opting for the latter because of its popularity with government. What this might then mean for local community members was described generally as ‘empowerment’ but specifically this might involve (Ibid.), in a familiar litany: • Equipping people with skills and competencies which they would not otherwise have; • Realising existing skills and developing potential; • Promoting people’s ability to take responsibility for identifying and meeting their own and other people’s needs Shortly after, one UK government department reported (DEFRA, 2003:2) on ‘community capacity-building and voluntary sector infrastructure

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in rural England’. This saw the outcome of CCB as leading to strengthened communities, increased levels of volunteering, targeting social exclusion and greater community involvement in local service delivery: here organisational and ‘community’ capacity building appear interlinked. Improving service delivery should be seen within the context of government’s strategic goal – in the UK and elsewhere – of using NGOs to deliver public services, which, many critics argue, is about providing such services ‘on the cheap’ (Craig et al., 2005). The requirement for NGOs to build their organisational capacity in order ‘to expand their role in the provision of public services’ (Cairns et al., 2005:872) resonates with the experience of the US, where capacity building is largely perceived as a technique of organisational management. This debate illuminates the conflict between NGOs’ own goals and the goals which government has for them. The former UK Home Secretary, David Blunkett (2002:5), whose department was a key UK government player promoting CCB, had no time for the niceties of definition: ‘building capacity – when I was a lad we used to call it community development!’. His department described ‘building the capacity of both individuals and groups within communities as central to the process of civil renewal’ (Ibid.) and, in its review of ‘civil renewal’ (a review, it stated, of government support for CCB and proposals for change) defined CCB as: Activities, resources and support that strengthen the skills and abilities of people and community groups to take effective action and leading roles in the development of their communities (Home Office, 2003:15). This accords well with the Charity Commission’s definition, in that it stresses the importance of participation, community development and the strengthening of skills, abilities and responsibility. This review claimed that CCB should be based on values close to those underpinning community development practice. An analysis of community involvement in urban policy (Chanan, 2003), conducted for the UK’s Office of the Deputy Prime Minister, however, equated ‘participation’ with ‘involvement’ (in public decision-making, in general community activity, and, again, in the provision of services by NGOs), noting the key role played by community development in creating and sustaining involvement. Strangely, this lengthy discussion contained no mention of the concept of CCB. Clearly, in the UK at least, CCB came to mean different things to different government departments, creating further linguistic and ideological confusion.

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Experience outside Europe Experience from elsewhere has not been more helpful in clarifying the meaning of CCB. In Canada, where the process of strengthening communities is described as establishing ‘resilient’ communities (CCCE, 2000), community capacity is defined as ‘the combined influence of a community’s commitment, resources and skills that can be deployed to build on community strengths and address problems and opportunities’ (Bruce, 2003:25). CCB is thus: Any activities which the community undertakes (on its own or with the help of others) to improve or build its own collective commitment, resources and skills (Bruce, 2003:25). In Australia, the term CCB has been adopted equally enthusiastically both by statutory and non-statutory interests. Victoria State’s Department of Planning and Community Development covers a wide range of policy initiatives concerned with community capacity building (www.dvc.vic.gov.au). The Stronger Families Learning Exchange notes that ‘community capacity-building has become a central objective in a wide range of public policies and programmes… Most analysts and practitioners in the human services field would count this as a positive development despite the fact that the concept of “community capacity” is seldom precisely defined’ (Hounslow, 2002:35). Within health promotion, CCB is, however, associated officially with building infrastructure, partnerships and organisational environments and problem-solving capability in communities and systems (Hawe et al., 2000). Mission Australia, a faith-based agency, suggests (2004:3ff) that it covers, at the Federal level, community economic development, community business partnerships, social entrepreneurs (formerly ‘community leaders’), and fostering micro-businesses, but stressing the need to identify ‘genuine community ownership of organisations’ rather than seeing CCB as a means of ‘growing the organisation’. In New Zealand, a national CCB initiative focuses on the mechanism of partnership working between communities and local and central government, characterised as ‘strengthening communities’ (www.waitakere.govt.nz/ourpar/strengthcomm.asp). Linguistic confusion is again similar to that in the use of the term community development, in that CCB does not always seem to be concerned, in other contexts, with working directly with deprived populations themselves but is focused on organisational management and development, characteristic of CCB

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work in the USA. One typical US example is Virginia’s Office of Community Capacity Building (www.dhcd.virginia.gov/cd/occb) describing its role as providing ‘capacity building assistance to Virginia’s community development and housing partners’. This again reflects ideological confusion about the term community: here these organisations are identified officially with their ‘communities’ i.e. the communities to which they offer services. Seen from the vantage point of local residents of deprived communities, these formal organisations may not however be seen as closely identified with their needs; nor do local residents appear to exercise control over their programmes. In short, this may be another instance of ‘top-down’ CCB posing as a ‘bottom-up’ form. There are examples worldwide of CCB initiatives with minorities and especially First Nations people, generally communities of identity with high levels of deprivation. The Western Australia State government ‘has a specialist role in working with indigenous communities on capacitybuilding initiatives and on strengthening relationships between local governments and indigenous people’ (www.dlgrd.wa.gov.au/regionDev). A top-down CCB approach is taken in New Zealand by the Alcohol and Public Health Research Unit in its work with indigenous Maori populations in order to reduce some of the effects of the greater exposure of Maori people to alcohol-related crime (Casswell, 2001). Within New South Wales, the Department of Criminal Justice’s Aboriginal Unit, addressing the over-representation of Koori young people in detention, argues that better direction of existing resources to help build capacity amongst Aboriginal communities is important as a preventative approach. Although it suggests (www.aic.Gov.au/conferences/2003-juvenile/Anderson. html) that there is no one single strategy, the Department asserts that ‘in any capacity-building strategy, the Aboriginal community must be leading the responses to issues they have identified’ (p. 6). However, many Black and minority groups worldwide would respond that, although CCB may be a key issue for their organisations, structural racism and discrimination often means that they have limited access in reality to funding and sources of expertise on their own terms (Chouhan and Lusane, 2005).

Capacity and partnership Partnership working, a key form of local governance promoted by New Labour and emerging more or less simultaneously alongside the enthusiasm for CCB, has become a key context for CCB initiatives. Wide-ranging analysis of partnership working (Glendinning et al.,

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2002), suggests that one major difficulty with partnership building as a form of local governance is the uneven capacity of the partners. NGOs – and community groups in particular – often are represented on a volunteer unpaid basis: a key role of larger, more powerful and betterresourced partners might therefore be to help build the capacity of the weakest partners but there remains disagreement in the literature as to whether it is appropriate for stronger partners – who often tacitly or explicitly set policy agendas for the partnerships in question – to do so (Balloch and Taylor, 2002; Craig and Taylor, 2002). As Banks et al. (2003:293) argue in the context of UK partnership working, there is a significant ‘mismatch between … (small NGOs) … structures and processes and those of more formal institutions such as local authorities or large voluntary organisations. Partnership working, especially when this involves people from different sectors, requires skills and strategies for building working relationships and understanding that enable communication and cooperation across these (partnership) boundaries’ (see also Pearson and Craig, 2001). NGO partners in many of these strategic partnership instances often tend – in the context of NGOs more generally – to be the betterresourced, more organised NGOs and not the smaller, representative, community groups with which CDWs typically operate. Thus, CCB, in the context of partnership working, may often result in a form of organisational strengthening at a level of governance beyond the reach of communities themselves, confirming the difficulties that smaller community groups have in many urban contexts in becoming fully involved – on their own terms – in community regeneration programmes, for example (JRF, 1999, 2000). The 2000 JRF review suggested, strikingly, that although a range of agencies resourced CCB, provision was neither comprehensive nor well coordinated and, in many programmes, that government-led CCB was displacing ‘real’ community development. Partnership working has in fact increasingly been criticised for building the capacity of the powerful (and their organisations) and not the weak, or for building the capacity of the weak only insofar as it aligns with the interests of the powerful (Banks and Shenton, 2001).

A critique of community capacity building There clearly remains substantial linguistic and ideological confusion surrounding the term CCB just as with the terms community, and community development. This confusion is not helped by the fact that, despite warm governmental rhetoric, there is little evidence as to whether

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CCB actually works. The community development literature has begun to grapple with questions of its effectiveness (Barr et al., 1995, 1996; Craig, 2002; Skinner and Wilson, 2002) but none of this debate appears to have spilled over into analysing the effectiveness of CCB. We can critique CCB as a concept and practice from at least four perspectives. First, noting the marginal differences between the proclaimed goals and methods of community development and CCB, it seems superfluous to introduce a new concept into the policy lexicon. Given the origins of the term, it seems quite likely that the elision between the two concepts, from capacity building’s initial focus on developing the strengths of organisations into a catch-all term covering a range of activities at ‘community’ level, was accelerated by political fashion: incoming governments wishing to introduce seemingly new policy programmes, adopt new terminology to distance themselves from their predecessors. This ignores references in the CCB literature to it having ‘… its roots in a much older movement called community development’ (McGinty, 2003:8), or that ‘the ideas behind community capacity-building are not new … from the 1970s there has been a strong community development school in the not-for-profit sector …’ (Hounslow, 2002 op. cit.:10). A related critique is that, as with the term ‘community’, the concept of CCB is applied uncritically – as the ‘spray-on additive’ – to a very wide range of activities, many of which have however little to do with the development – with control of the skills, knowledge, assets and understanding by local deprived communities – at the heart of the definition of community development. Thus CCB is used in a contemporary context by organisations such as the World Bank (2001), and by national governments to describe what are ‘top-down’ interventions where local communities are required to engage in programmes with predetermined goals – such as the privatisation of public services within a context of tight fiscal control – as a condition for receiving funding, approaches far removed from ‘bottom-up’ community development interventions. Thirdly, those working with local communities question the motives of those promoting CCB ‘from the top’. Beresford and Hoban (2005:45) argue that ‘capacity-building to develop people’s confidence, self-esteem and understanding supports their empowerment and participation. It is not the same as skill development to equip people to work in the way that agencies traditionally work’: i.e. that CCB is pursued by powerful partners to incorporate local communities into established structures and mechanisms rather than having to face challenges to those existing structures which effective working with deprived communities

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presents. These challenges could go to the heart of the reasons for deprivation and inequality. Diamond (2004:198), in the context of UK regeneration, notes that ‘whilst these (CCB) initiatives use a new language, they are steeped in old practices. Changing structures does not of itself alter the power differences inherent in local neighbourhoods where community groups are cast as “dependent” by regeneration managers seeking to meet performance targets’. Diamond notes that capacity building approaches of local authorities marginalised views challenging the mainstream discourses, sought to co-opt local activists and individualised rather than collectivised local communities’ experience, in line with New Labour’s Third Way approach. In a similar vein, Mowbray (2005:263) analyses the CCB programme of the Labor Government of Victoria. He is less critical of the way in which activities within this initiative are developed than of how government ‘restrains their scope and rhetorically reconstructs their character and impact’. In particular, government effectively made funding available only to communities with pre-existing well-established structures, ensured that any activities which might be regarded as political (such as advocacy by community members) were excluded from the framework of the initiative, and claimed credit for the action plans of participating communities. Essentially, the ability of the community to act on its own behalf, to work on issues which it identified, and at a pace and in a manner which it determined itself, was compromised by the government’s need to promote its own social and political agendas. This story is familiar to many CDWs and those in the communities – in North and South – with which they have worked. Responding to the UK’s government’s review of its support for CCB, the body representing community development training argued (FCDL, 2004:3) that the experience of many communities is that ‘community capacitybuilding’ programmes (with a myriad of titles), have been imposed on them; with perceived needs, desired outcomes and preferred methods part of the package which they have not had the opportunity to identify, develop or agree. …the ‘community’ (often not self-defined) is exhorted to play its part in an environment where inequalities of resources, power, information and status are not even acknowledged, never mind addressed. The FCDL argued further, echoing others, that the impact of CCB has been to increase inequalities between established ‘communities’ and those struggling for resources. Ironically, after writing this submission,

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FCDL, an organisation undertaking a great deal of ‘bottom-up’ training with local activists, lost its core funding from government. Analysing CCB projects working with indigenous people in Australia, Tedmanson (2003:15) noted that This new capacity-building jargon signifies an entrenchment of notions of what constitutes capacity, who defines capacity and what constitutes the relationship between the dominant culture capacitybuilders and those identified as capacity deficient. … The term community capacity-building will have little … meaning to … the Anungu peoples of Central Australia where concepts such as Yerra … are cited as encompassing reciprocity and community obligation. Supporting, helping, sharing, giving of time and resources, cultural affirmation and taking care of country are responsibilities not viewed as special individualised effort but as cultural competencies. … discussions of community capacity-building in indigenous contexts must avoid the paternalistic construction of a ‘deficit’ in the Aboriginal domain. The author cites an indigenous respondent (Ibid.): To restore capacity in our people is to be responsible for our own future. Notice that I talk of restoring rather than building capacity in our people … we had 40 to 60,000 years of survival and capacity. The problem is that our capacity has been eroded and diminished (by white colonialists) – our people do have skills, knowledge and experience … we are quite capable of looking after our own children and fighting for their future. The fundamental argument here – appropriate to other groups representing the powerless – is that ‘cultural difference is viewed as a weakness and not a strength, a capacity deficit to be rebuilt or a problem to be “solved”’ (Ibid.). This is the most fundamental critique of CCB, that it is based on the notion of communities being ‘deficient’ – in skills, knowledge and experience. Beazley et al. (2004:6) analyse the weakness of the ‘deficit model’. First, ‘it pays no attention to the capacity of institutions to overcome inherent barriers to engagement’ i.e. the problem lies not with communities but the institutions, structures and processes which affect them; and secondly, definitions of CCB built on the deficit model again ‘give no indication of an endpoint. What is capacity being built towards

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or is it an end in itself?’ (Ibid.). This is a question that has plagued the theory and practice of community development and is reflected in governments’ continuing emphases on measuring programmatic outputs in terms of narrow quantitatively-defined goals rather than on community process and outcomes. Essentially, although it is possible to identify the characteristics of ‘strengthened’ or ‘resilient’ communities (skills, knowledge, organisation etc), the fundamental aim of community development is – consonant with its value base – to ensure that greater political power lies with local communities. The endpoint might thus be ‘less comfortable, more empowered and awkward but selfdetermined communities’ (Ibid.) and a process which maintains that situation. Partridge (2005), analysing an NDC programme, argues that CCB is a ‘term invented by social managers. It explains the lack of “buy-in” to their regeneration schemes by implying a lack of skill on the part of members of deprived communities … neighbourhoods are deprived and regeneration schemes don’t work because of an analogous lack of “capacity” in the inhabitants. A nice form of blaming the victim’. The term might thus be seen as useful only where it applies equally to the lack of capacity both in neighbourhoods, and of powerful partner agencies to listen to, engage with and share power with communities effectively. Do such powerful agencies have the capacity to ‘lose face, cope with residents’ decisions going against them?’ (Ibid.) and so on. This ‘deficit’ approach to CCB, it is argued by Beazley et al. (op. cit.:3), assumes a social pathology approach to communities which lack skills and abilities: these qualities would allow local community residents to be ‘good citizens’ in terms identified by government and ‘for those in power, this model of capacity-building is useful. It poses no threat. It is top-down, paternalistic, and deflects attention away from the need to change the existing institutional and economic structures. It is a view that serves and supports the status quo.’ (Ibid.) Such an analysis of CCB from the perspective of the values of community development, suggests that a view of communities as deficient in the skills, capacities and knowledge to enable them to engage effectively with other actors in local governance misses the point. Communities have skills, ideas, capacities: but these are often latent or unacknowledged (Taylor, 1995). Local and central governments often come with their own agendas which they attempt to impose, subtly through partnership working, or more crudely, directly on local communities, often using funding requests as levers for compliance. The task for powerful partners in this kind of partnership working should be to

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listen to communities’ demands and respond appropriately, most of all when what local communities are demanding may be in conflict with external agendas; and thus for the former not to continue with predetermined goals and programmes. This may not just be difficult for powerful partners, it may be precisely what – despite the rhetoric of CCB – they are not interested in. For example, there can be little doubt that the UK government’s understanding of CCB is linked to its desire to have more stable, organised communities with which it can more easily engage to pursue its own ideas of community cohesion (particularly given the increasing racialised impacts of the so-called ‘war on terror’), community safety, child and family policy and criminal justice (Rodger, 2005). The ‘carrot’ of funding is key here in getting community groups to ‘buy in’ to government agendas and much CCB at a local level can be seen as a way of creating local structures fitting with government funding requirements (Macdonald, 2005). These structures may not, then, be ones most effectively facilitating the expression of local community interests nor enabling local communities to build their own capacities.

Community capacity building in other policy contexts In terms of building the capacity of communities, defined in the context of community development, CCB can clearly be seen as a creation of political fashion, used to imply community ownership of programmes but in reality open to the same political distortions as community development has been. How does this analysis play out in other policy contexts? The language of CCB is only just beginning to permeate other major policy contexts and this suggests that it is an appropriate time to use the lessons learned from a study of CCB in relation to community development policy to inform what is increasingly defined as capacity building work in other policy spheres.4 Community development of course can be used to refer to broad investment in facilities, services, as well as economic development and also to policies that improve human capital, employment levels, business investment or location, and environmental improvement, as well as to the more narrow usage described earlier in this chapter. Following the analysis above, community capacity building should explicitly aim to improve the capacity of and within communities themselves, with a deliberate attempt to shape services and develop institutions that increase social capital, autonomy and the overall capacity to drive change from within a community. The critique above suggests that in reality, institutional

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barriers erected by major policy partners, particularly state agencies, often prevent community capacities from being expressed and realised and there is evidence of this happening within these other policy contexts, although language often differs from one context to another. A review of social development interventions in the fields of housing, health and regeneration underlines that community skills and experience exist, albeit unevenly across the three fields. In the territory of health, ‘community’ is a more complex concept than in other contexts since it applies to the ‘community’ of health service users, a community which might be divided by a wide range of measures, such as geography, age, ailment, ethnicity, and so on. The struggle here for community capacity building is essentially a struggle for health service users to have more control over health service policy and practice, in particular over the process by which health services are delivered. The ‘community’ seeks to improve the way in which services are delivered. This goes beyond simply improving information flows, for example, to challenging the organisational framework of health service delivery to make it far more responsive and sensitive to individual and community need. Health service delivery provides many examples of shallow initiatives to ‘involve’ service users which have offered little real engagement with, or control over, the policy process. The organisation of health services often appears to be organised on the basis of what suits managers and clinicians rather than those dependent on health services for their wellbeing. In the housing area, there is by contrast a territory which is capable of little professional mystification (although housing allocation procedures have occasionally been regarded as arcane) and where there has been a very long history – of 100 years or more – of campaigns by the users of social housing to have greater control of housing policy, including the day-to-day minutiae of repairs and maintenance, and broader issues of allocation and development, through to strategic questions of the disposal of social housing to the private sector. Regeneration is a social policy practice emerging most strongly in the post-Second World War period, initially to respond to war damage but since that time, to engage in the systematic revitalisation of housing and neighbourhoods. Neighbourhood regeneration has been focused on small, usually deprived communities and thus has been a particularly appropriate context for community development interventions or, in more recent years, for those labelled as CCB. Of these social policy interventions, those in the field of housing and regeneration (which have often been co-terminous) have thus offered a far greater body of experience than has the field of health policy.

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Despite these differences in history and context, some common themes emerge from the study of social policy CCB initiatives which resonate with the earlier analysis. In all three fields of activity, language has often been used in confusing ways, obscuring goals and objectives of programmes, and many interventions driven by government have often misleadingly been badged as being owned by the community. This applies equally to programmes for tenant participation where an increasingly widespread infrastructure masks the extent to which tenants have real control over housing policy; to health service delivery where service users confront the political and professional strength of clinicians before even beginning to establish users’ rights to a voice in policy and service delivery; and to regeneration, where a plethora of community-based renewal programmes have failed to deliver real community control over the process of neighbourhood improvement. The issue of power here is again crucial. Disparities of power between government and other statutory partners on the one hand, and local communities on the other, mean that communities are often structurally disadvantaged when it comes to working in partnership, contesting control over resources or the ways in which those resources are to be used in CCB programmes. These disparities in power are particularly marked where communities are characterised by poverty, divided, or are disproportionately associated with marginalised or less powerful groups, such as black and minority ethnic groups, young or elderly people. In relation to environmental development, although debates about sustainable development go back to the 1970s, more recent experience raises issues which resonate with this analysis. Discussions about the right of poor communities, in particular, to participate in processes and decisions which affect them in the environmental area are only now beginning to emerge with some force. Capacity building within the environmental context may have been at the root of sustainable development for upwards of thirty years but the understanding that environmental protection has to go hand in hand with social and economic development has only more recently taken root at local ‘community’ level. This is increasingly also linked to an understanding that environmental degradation has strong links with the social and economic concerns of local communities, particularly of poverty and inequality, and that the costs of environmental change and ecological damage are disproportionately borne by the poor worldwide. This operates at all levels, from local to international, with some poor Southern Pacific territories now likely to be swamped by rising sea levels, the consequence of

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climate change driven by the polluting industries of the North. This represents a particular challenge in terms of developing ‘community’ responses since communities bearing the costs of environmental change may be physically many miles away from the sources of their difficulty. There is of course another major structural problem in developing strategic community responses to environmental issues which is that the influence of private sector profit-driven organisations is much stronger here than in the fields of social policy for example (although private housing and health providers are increasingly drawn into debates about user or community control). As with the evidence in the territory of social policy, it is clear that issues of disparate power (including access to resources and information) – between community actors and the more powerful statutory and private sector interests facing them – are highly significant. As noted, the language of CCB has yet to fully penetrate the field of environmental campaigning although there are certainly questions as to the extent of real participation of deprived communities – the same communities campaigning around health, housing and regeneration – in shaping local environmental strategies. Including communities from the very beginning of collaborative processes is therefore critical if participation is to be meaningful. Capacity building in the environmental sector thus means, as it does elsewhere, concentrating on supporting or providing accessible information, participative decisionmaking processes, and supportive legislative and political structures which facilitate real control by local communities over political and policy processes. Effectively dealing with environmental challenges and the potential complexities which they raise, is heavily influenced by mechanisms; potential and capacity to support community level participation within environmental decision-making processes; and the systems (legislative and policy) that enforce or support community voices. This is a similar message to that emerging from work in social policy areas. In the field of local economic development, this analysis suggests that interventions designed to increase economic activity in the interests of poor communities must not only start by a regard for the needs of such communities but also by emphasising those that lock in skills, jobs and economic benefits into an area. The approaches that are best combined with existing community networks and organisations are those most likely to take root and ultimately succeed. This will generally require an emphasis on the social economy, grounded in the needs and experiences of local communities, rather than in the simple creation of jobs by government or private sector investment, jobs which may disappear as a result of the activities of footloose multinational

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companies as quickly as they appear. Essentially, economic benefits – whether through grants, social enterprises, external investment, or local NGO economic activity – have to be retained within local communities as a base from which local economic capacity can be sustained and developed. Evidence suggests that the more economic ‘assets’ are held in and controlled by a community (many of which are not even recognised by outside statutory agencies) and the greater the local ownership, the better the overall capacity for development is.

Conclusion Much capacity building can be criticised because of its failure to recognise the pre-existing capacity of communities, as well as the rhetorical nature of commitments by governments to real community empowerment. The ultimate goal of a capacity building initiative should be, as with community development, the development of local leadership and increased local engagement and control over programme management, policy development and service delivery. The effective, real, empowerment of communities should allow them to build networks and partnerships, enhancing their ability to ensure the sustainability of decisions that influence their quality of life, in community, social, economic and environmental spheres. The brief review of CCB in social, economic and environmental contexts suggests strongly that there are conditions under which community capacity building can be enhanced – leadership, knowledge, skills, experience – or impeded (usually the institutional barriers erected by powerful partners). This chimes with the analysis developed in relation to local community development. From the general analysis developed here, it seems clear that concerns about the usage (and abusage) of CCB differ little from historical discourses surrounding the process of community development. Under this new umbrella term, however, increasingly penetrating into every major field of policy, not only has a similarly wide range of activities found shelter, many of which have little to do with the goals and values of community development, but that many of the familiar tensions and difficulties of community development – of manipulation of communities, misappropriation of terminology, co-option of activists, conditional funding and state-controlled power games such as divide and rule – are re-emerging. Local, regional and national governments and international bodies – particularly those of a centrist disposition – buy themselves continuing political space, enabling them not to respond appropriately to the demands of the dispossessed or to obscure the

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structural reasons for continuing poverty and inequality. To respond effectively to local communities’ demands would mean giving up much of the power which these bodies enjoy. We may well ask: who defines the capacities which communities need and why? What control do local communities exercise over the capacity building process? And who defines what a strong community would look like? As Banks and Shenton (2001: 296) put it, ‘we need to question whose purpose capacity-building is serving and ensure that local residents are not mere puppets in the regeneration game played out by large national, regional and local agencies. “Community development” may be a more acceptable term and a more useful approach to promoting social and economic change in neighbourhoods’; but this too can be manipulated to serve government’s interests, the more so in countries with a high degree of centralised policy-making and delivery, as opposed to those with more devolved structures. Community capacity building is fundamentally not a neutral technical process: it is about power and ideology and how these are mediated through structures and processes. As with the terms community and community development, the term CCB has been used to present a false consensus about goals and interests, and a misleading sense of community ownership and control. In reality these terms – and the varying policy contexts in which they are now used – should all be arenas for political contestation. The task is to help build communities’ capacity to engage in these contests on a more equal footing.

Notes 1 A version of the early parts of this chapter was first published in Critical Social Policy (August 2007: Sage Publications). The latter part of this chapter draws on a report produced for the OECD (Community Capacity-Building: Creating a Better Future Together) published in 2009. We are grateful to both publishers for permission to draw on these works. 2 See, for the UK example, the definition from the Community Development Exchange at www.cdx.org.uk 3 This Declaration and the parallel Yaounde Declaration covering community development in Africa can be accessed at www.iacdglobal.org 4 A detailed analysis is available in the OECD review of CCB initiatives in social, economic and environmental policy areas, referred to in Footnote 1. This section draws on a summary written jointly by Gary Craig and Antonella Noya.

References Ahmed, R., Finneron, D. and Singh, H. (2004) Tools for Regeneration: A Holistic Approach for Faith Communities. London: FBRN.

Gary Craig 63 Avineri, S. and de Shalit, A. (eds) (1995) Communitarianism and Individualism. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Balloch, S. and Taylor, M. (2002) Partnership Working. Bristol: Policy Press. Banks, S. and Shenton, F. (2001) ‘Regenerating neighbourhoods: A critical look at the role of community capacity building’, Local Economy, 16(4): 286–298. Banks, S., Butcher, H., Henderson, P. and Robertson, J. (eds) (2003) Managing Community Practice. Bristol: Policy Press. Barr, A., Drysdale, J., Purcell, R. and Ross, C. (1995) Strong Communities: Effective Government: The Role of Community Work, Vol. 1. Glasgow: Scottish Community Development Centre. Barr, A., Hashagen, S. and Purcell, R. (1996) Measuring Community Development in Northern Ireland: A Handbook for Practitioners. Glasgow: Scottish Community Development Centre. Beazley, M., Griggs, S. and Smith, M. (2004) Rethinking Approaches to Community Capacity Building. Birmingham: University of Birmingham. Mimeo. Benington, J. and Donnison, D. (1999) ‘New Labour and social exclusion: the search for a Third Way or just gilding the ghetto again?’, in H. Dean and R. Woods (eds) Social Policy Review 11, Luton: Social Policy Association. Benn, M. (2000) ‘A short march through the institutions’, in A. Coote (ed.), New Gender Agenda. London: IPPR. Beresford, P. and Hoban, M. (2005) Participation in Anti-Poverty and Regeneration Work and Research: Overcoming Barriers and Creating Opportunities. York: Joseph Rowntree Foundation. Blunkett, D. (2002) Speech at the Relaunch of the Active Community Unit, Home Office: 29 May. Bruce, D. (2003) Insights on Community Capacity Building, available from [email protected] Bryson, L. and Mowbray, M. ‘Community: The “spray-on” solution’, Australian Journal of Social Issues, 16(4): 255–267. Cairns, B., Harris, M. and Young, P. (2005) ‘Building the capacity of the voluntary non-profit sector: Challenges of theory and practice’, International Journal of Public Administration, 28: 869–885. Casswell, S. (2001) ‘Community capacity building and social policy – What can be achieved?’, Social Policy Journal of New Zealand, 17: 22–35. CCCE (2000) The Community Reliance Manual. British Columbia: Canadian Centre for Community Enterprise. CDP (1977) Gilding the Ghetto. London: Community Development Project Information and Intelligence Unit. Chanan, G. (2003) Searching for Solid Foundations: Community Involvement and Urban Policy. London: Community Development Foundation. Chapman, M. and Kirk, K. (2001) Lessons for Community Capacity-Building: A Summary of Research Evidence. Edinburgh: Scottish Homes. Charity Commission (2000) The Promotion of Community Capacity-Building. Taunton: Charity Commission also at www.charity-commission.gov.uk/ publications/rr5.asp Chouhan, K. and Lusane, C. (2005) Black Voluntary and Community Sector Funding: Its Impact on Civic Engagement and Capacity Building. York: Joseph Rowntree Foundation: www.jrf.org.uk

64 Community Capacity Building Craig, G. (1989) ‘Community work and the state’, Community Development Journal, 24(1): 3–18. Craig, G. (2002) ‘Towards the measurement of empowerment: The evaluation of community development’, Journal of the Community Development Society, 33(1): 124–146. Craig, G., McNamee, S., Peake, R. and Wilkinson, M. (2005) A21CVCS4Y+H – A 21st Century Voluntary and Community Sector for the Yorkshire and Humber Region. Leeds: Yorkshire Futures. Craig, G. and Mayo, M. (eds) (1995) Community Empowerment. London: Zed Books. Craig, G. and Taylor, M. (2002) ‘Dangerous liaisons: Partnership working and the voluntary sector’, in M. Powell et al. (eds), Partnerships, Governance and New Labour. Bristol: Policy Press. DEFRA (2003) Community Capacity-building and Voluntary Sector Infrastructure in Rural England. London: Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs. Diamond, J. (2004) ‘Local regeneration initiatives and capacity building: Whose “capacity” and “building” for what?’, Community Development Journal, 39(2): 177–205. Dinham, A. (2005) Another Deal for What Community?. Unpublished PhD, Goldsmiths College, University of London. Driver, S. and Martell, L. (1998) New Labour: Politics after Thatcherism. Cambridge: Polity Press. Duncan, P. and Thomas, S. (2000) Neighbourhood Regeneration: Resourcing Community Involvement. Bristol: Policy Press. Dwyer, P. (2000) Welfare Rights and Responsibilities. Bristol: Policy Press. Eade, D. and Williams, S. (1995) The Oxfam Handbook of Development and Relief. Oxford: Oxfam. EC (1996) Social and Economic Inclusion through Regional Development: The Community Economic Development Priority in European Structural Funds Programmes in Great Britain. Luxembourg: European Commission. FCDL (2004) Building Civil Renewal: A Review of Government Support for Community Capacity Building and Proposals for Change, Submission from Federation for Community Development Learning. Sheffield: FCDL. Glendinning, C., Powell, M. and Rummery, K. (eds) (2002) Partnerships, New Labour and the Governance of Welfare. Bristol: Policy Press. Hailey, J., James, R. and Wrigley, R. (2005) Assessing the Impacts of Organizational Capacity Building. Oxford: INTRAC. Hawe, P., King, L., Noort, M., Jordens, C. and Lloyd, B. (2000) Indicators to Help with Capacity-Building in Health Promotion. Sydney: NSW Health Department. Hillery, G. A. (1964) ‘Villages, cities and total institutions’, American Sociological Review, 28: 32–42. Home Office (2003) Building Civil Renewal. London: Home Office. Hounslow, B. (2002) ‘Community capacity building explained’, Stronger Families Learning Exchange, Bulletin No. 1, Autumn: 20–22 at www.aifs.gov.au/sf/pubs/ bull1 Humm, J. (2005) Who are the Capacity Builders?. London: Community Development Foundation. Hursey, C. (2005) Capacity Building: Perspectives from the NGO Sector in Spain. Oxford: INTRAC.

Gary Craig 65 James, R. and CABUNGO (2005) Building Capacity to Mainstream HIV/AIDS Internally: Experience in Malawi. Oxford: INTRAC. JRF (1999) Developing Effective Community Involvement Strategies. York: Joseph Rowntree Foundation. JRF (2000) Resourcing Community Involvement in Neighbourhood Regeneration. York: Joseph Rowntree Foundation. KirkleesMC (2004) Dewsbury Community Capacity Building Projects. Huddersfield: Kirklees Metropolitan Council. Lister, R. (2001) ‘New Labour: A study in ambiguity from a position of ambivalence’, Critical Social Policy, 21(4): 425–448. Macdonald, Dee (2005) Personal Communication, November 7 2005. McGinty, S. (2003) ‘Community capacity-building’, paper presented at Australian Association for Research in Education conference, Brisbane, Australia. (www.aare.edu.au). Mendes, P. (2006) ‘Classic texts No 5’, Community Development Journal, 41(2): 246–248. Mission Australia (2004) There’s Something Different About This Place. Sydney: Mission Australia. Mowbray, M. (2005) ‘Community capacity building or state opportunism?’, Community Development Journal, 40(3): 255–264. Nash, V. and Christie, I. (2003) Making Sense of Community. London: IPPR. Oxfam (2004) Social Inclusion Directory. Oxford: Oxfam. Partridge, G. (2005) Personal Communication. November 4 2005. Pearson, S. and Craig, G. (2001) ‘Community participation in strategic partnerships in the UK’, in J. Pierson and J. Smith (eds), Rebuilding Community, Basingstoke: Palgrave. Powell, M. (2000) ‘New Labour and the Third Way’, Critical Social Policy, 20(1): 39–60. Rodger, J. (2005) ‘Subsidiarity as a ruling principle in the welfare society’, Paper given at Osservatorio Nazionale Sulla Famiglia. Bologna, October 8. SEU (2000) National Strategy for Neighbourhood Renewal. London: Cabinet Office Social Exclusion Unit. Skinner, S. and Wilson, M. (2002) Willing Partners?. Leeds: Yorkshire Forward. Soares, C. (2005) Personal Communication. November 4 2005. Srinivas, H. (2005) Personal Communication. November 10 2005 at hsrinivas@ gdrc.org Stacey, M. (1969) ‘The myth of community studies’, British Journal of Sociology, 20(2): 134–147. Stoker, G. and Bottom, K. (2003) Community Capacity-Building, Lecture given at Lorne, 25 July. Taylor, M. (1995) Unleashing the Potential: Bringing Residents to the Centre of Estate Regeneration. York: Joseph Rowntree Foundation. Taylor, M. (2003) Public Policy in the Community. Basingstoke: Palgrave. Tedmanson, D. (2003) ‘Whose capacity needs building?: Open hearts and empty hands, reflections on capacity building in remote communities’, Paper given at the 4th International Critical Management Studies Conference, University of South Australia. UN (1996) Community Capacity-Building. New York: UN Commission on Sustainable Development.

66 Community Capacity Building UNCED (1992) Capacity Building: Agenda 21’s Definition. Chapter 37. New York: UNCED. UNDP (1991) Symposium for Water Sector Capacity Building. Amsterdam: UNDP/ International Institute for Hydraulic and Environmental Engineering. UNDP (1993) Human Development Report. Oxford: Oxford University Press. World Bank (2001) New Pathways to Social Development. Washington DC: International Bank for Reconstruction and Development.

4 Capacity Building and Community Development Jim Ife

Introduction This chapter is about the language of capacity building. Language is important in that it powerfully, but often unconsciously, shapes the way we understand the concepts we are using. It reveals the assumptions, often implicit rather than explicit, behind the concepts, and it encourages us to ask certain questions and not to ask others. Community capacity building can be seen as, at least partly, synonymous with community development (Craig, 2007) in that many of the same processes are described in the community capacity building literature: participation, empowerment, helping communities to develop resilience, and so on. So why invent a new label, if it describes the same process? The reason is that, although there is a superficial equivalence between the two terms, the use of different language signifies some different ideas and different emphases, and these can profoundly affect the way the process of working with communities is understood. This chapter is about why that change of language is significant, and will argue that a change of terminology from ‘community development’ to ‘community capacity building’ is more consistent with a dominant conservative and managerialist approach, which negates the more progressive and potentially dangerous ideas implied in community development. In this chapter ‘community development’ refers to an approach to communities based specifically on validating wisdom, knowledge and expertise from the community itself, allowing communities real control over their own processes, and emphasising process rather than predetermined objectives or outcomes. It assumes that viable, sustainable ‘development’ cannot be imposed from above, but must be owned and driven by the people of the community, using a variety of forms of 67

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participation. It is an organic and multidimensional process, involving social, economic, political, cultural, environmental and spiritual development (for a fuller discussion see Ife and Tesoriero, 2006; Ife, 2010; Kenny, 2006). It is recognised of course, that not all programmes labelled ‘community development’ reflect this perspective.

Deficit The idea of capacity building conveys the idea of potential; if a community has ‘capacity’ it presumably has some potential to do, achieve or accomplish something, though what that something is will often be left undefined. The community is presumed to be operating at a less than optimal level; it needs some sort of outside help to enable it to achieve its potential, and hence building capacity enables a community to achieve more. The assumption, therefore, is that there is a deficit; the community in question is seen as lacking something, vaguely labelled as ‘capacity’, which needs to be ‘built’. This deficit approach negates an important principle of community development. Starting with an assumed deficit is not an ideal way to begin working with communities, as community development works best when it is able to develop on the basis of a community’s strengths rather than compensate for its weaknesses. Capacity building, in this sense, is little different from a pathology view of community development, where a ‘problem’ is diagnosed and a ‘treatment’ is prescribed. The community (or communities in general) is seen as ‘having’ a ‘problem’, and this has significant impacts on any developmental process. When community development starts with a problem it is a sure recipe for disempowerment, as it leads people in that community to see themselves as somehow lacking or deficient. This is even more significant when that ‘problem’ is defined externally. There can be some value in community development that is focused on a problem that has been defined by the community itself, and indeed this can help to bring a community together and to inspire local activism, for example when a community comes together to work on an environmental issue, to advocate for improved services, or to stop a private sector development which will have a negative impact on community life. However this is not the case with ‘capacity building’. It would be rare for a community itself to define its problem as a ‘lack of capacity’; the very language suggests that the definition of the problem has been made by a bureaucrat, a manager, a policy-maker, or some other external actor implicitly claiming superior wisdom. This is

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characteristic of the pathology approach; somebody outside the community has decided that there is something ‘wrong’ with the community that needs to be ‘fixed’. The deficit approach is all too common in working with communities, and is present in many programmes labelled ‘community development’ as well as ‘community capacity building’. Indeed it is often a perceived ‘problem’ that leads to a government or NGO investing resources into programmes of community development. But the point for present purposes is that the idea of deficit is implicit in the very term ‘capacity building’, while it is not necessarily present in the term ‘development’: development does not necessarily imply a deficit, as development can be based on strengths rather than problems. The deficit, however, is necessarily implicit in the idea of capacity building, and talking about community capacity building can inhibit strengths-based development where it is a community’s strengths which are identified, validated, and used as the basis for development which is led by the community itself. Of course it might be argued that community capacity building is based on strengths, in that its aim in building ‘capacity’ is to strengthen a community, rather than to correct its weaknesses. This is where the language of capacity building can be misleading; by emphasising the building of capacity – clearly a strength for any community – it appears to be supporting strengths, whereas it is in reality responding to a defined absence of strength. A truly strengths-based or assets-based approach will begin not by asking what ‘capacity’ a community might lack, but rather what are the strengths, or assets, of a community, and finding ways in which those strengths can be utilised and developed, using the resources of the community. It is not hard to identify the deficit-base or problem-base implicit in community capacity building. For example the New South Wales (Australia) Health Department web site, in defining capacity building, states: Capacity building increases the range of people, organisations and communities who are able to address problems, and in particular, problems that arise out of social inequity and social exclusion. (http://www.health.nsw.gov.au/public-health/health-promotion/ capacity-building/index.html) If capacity building represents a community’s capacity to ‘address problems’, it is clearly designed for communities with perceived problems

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rather than for communities in general. Of course not all definitions of capacity building are as blatant in linking it to problems and deficits (Chaskin, 2001; Smillie, 2001; McGinty, 2002), but the point for the purposes of this chapter is that such a deficit approach is implicit in the notion that ‘capacity’ needs to be ‘built’.

Value A simple but very important question for community capacity building is: what are the capacities that are to be built? All communities, it can be argued, have capacity, and many of the capacities a community might have are surely ones we would not wish to build or encourage. For example, any community has the capacity for exclusion, for violence, for racism, and for the devaluing or oppression of some of its members on the basis of age, gender, race, sexuality, ability (physical or intellectual) or other characteristic. Communities also have the capacity to harm other communities, for example by polluting water supplies or eroding another community’s economic base. Presumably these are not the capacities that are the aim of ‘capacity building’. A more positive list of capacities, however, is not as easy to define, and any such listing is likely to be contentious. But the important point is that it is insufficient simply to assert that the aim of working with communities is to build something called ‘capacity’, without specifying the nature of the capacities that are seen as desirable. The key question, then, is: who defines the capacity that is to be built? Typically, this definition does not emerge from the community itself, but rather is defined by managers, funders and politicians. This is not usually made explicit in discussions of capacity building, but it is inherent in the very idea of ‘building capacity’. There is inevitably an agenda set by the programme managers, and it contains implicit assumptions of what capacities are to be built, and hence what strengths the community should develop, and what things it should be capable of doing. This is in direct opposition to the principles of community development, which require the community itself to set the agenda, rather than having to respond to an agenda imposed externally; indeed the imposition of an external agenda can serve to disempower communities, and to reinforce a lack of agency for community members in determining their future. Genuine community-based capacity building would require a community itself to define what capacities, if any, it wished to develop, rather than having a particular understanding of ‘capacity’ defined by somebody else.

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This inherent ‘top-down’ agenda in community capacity building is exemplified by the following UNDP definition of capacity building: … the creation of an enabling environment with appropriate policy and legal frameworks, institutional development, including community participation (of women in particular), human resources development and strengthening of managerial systems … UNDP recognizes that capacity building is a long-term, continuing process, in which all stakeholders participate (ministries, local authorities, non-governmental organizations and water user groups, professional associations, academics and others). (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Capacity_building) The list of ‘stakeholders’ in this definition of capacity building is revealing. It is overwhelmingly representative of external stakeholders, and leaves little room for community members to own and control the process, as required by community development principles. This definition also specifies the kind of capacity that is seen as desirable: ‘… policy and legal frameworks, institutional development … human resources development and strengthening managerial systems’, all characteristic elements of top-down development. Community participation is given a lesser status, by the simple use of the word ‘including’, making it a subset of something called ‘institutional development’; hence the institutionalising of the development process, and of the priority to be given to institutional and managerial imperatives. Capacity building becomes little more than organisational development, with all the baggage of managerialism, and little room for genuine community participation, engagement or control. It is instructive to consider some of the ‘capacities’ not included in or implied by this definition. These include the capacity of a community to engage in political action, the capacity to establish and manage a local economy, the capacity to take responsibility for the local environment (other than implied by the inclusion of ‘water user groups’), the capacity for cultural expression, the rehabilitation of indigenous cultures, the capacity for increasing diversity, the capacity to safeguard and to realise human rights, and so on. Communities wishing to develop such capacities would find the framework of capacity building implied by the UNDP definition to be a constraint rather than providing opportunities and support for their own initiatives. Another explicit reference to the way in which external agendas drive community capacity building is given by Atkinson and Willis,

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of the Housing and Community Research Unit at the University of Tasmania: The main difference between CCB (community capacity building) and CD (community development) is that strategies for CCB are more often devised by organisations outside those communities, even if the ethos is still ultimately to try and build skills and coping abilities within communities (Atkinson and Willis, 2006:3). If ‘strategies’ (the very word ‘strategies’ is itself problematic, with its connotations of cunningly planned military activity) are devised by organisations external to the community, the potential for genuine community-based development is severely limited.

Colonialism It is a short step from the inherent top-down agenda of capacity building to a fully-blown colonialism. The imposition of a developmental agenda on a community is characteristic of the colonialist project, where the coloniser is seen as having superior knowledge, wisdom and expertise, and as therefore being able to impose their agenda on others (Young, 2001). Such a view can be held by both the coloniser and the colonised, though in the latter case there is usually also some level of resistance and an attempt to challenge the agenda of the coloniser. This aspect of community capacity building is reflected in the Wiki pedia definition. When examining such an over-used and over-defined concept as community capacity building, the Wikipedia definition is perhaps the best indication of the way the term has commonly come to be understood: Capacity building often refers to assistance which is provided to entities, usually developing country societies, which have a need to develop a certain skill or competence, or for general upgrading of performance ability. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Capacity_building) The specific reference to ‘developing country societies’ suggests that capacity building is seen as most appropriate if it is part of the ‘development agenda’ whereby more advantaged countries provide development assistance to the less-developed. This, of course, represents the modern equivalent of the colonialism of empire. While not all international development can be characterised as colonialist – some pro-

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jects indeed adopt an explicit counter-colonialist analysis – it is nevertheless true that many of the projects undertaken by the UN, by international NGOs, by philanthropic foundations, and by government aid agencies have effectively maintained a colonialist relationship between ‘developed’ and ‘developing’ worlds, where wisdom and expertise are located firmly in the former. If indeed the term ‘capacity building’ is usually applied to international projects rather than domestic community programmes, this is a clear sign of its association with colonialism, despite the apparently ‘neutral’ connotations of the language. Colonialism, of course, does not only operate internationally. Colonialist practice can also occur within societies, especially where a programme is implemented in a community that is labelled as ‘disadvantaged’, ‘deprived’, ‘high need’, or ‘lacking capacity’, and especially in indigenous communities, where the term ‘capacity building’ is also often used. The imposition of the world view of one culture, nation or group onto another, wherever it is located, effectively constitutes colonialist practice, and although the era of empire through military conquest may be over, the armies of conquest have been replaced by teachers, missionaries, agricultural extension workers, social workers, health workers, engineers, planners, consultants, academics and development workers. While there is no doubt that many of these workers have brought useful skills and considerable benefits to communities, it is also true that, all too often, they have worked within a colonialist paradigm which subtly reinforces the relative powerlessness of the community with which they are working. There is nothing about community capacity building that necessarily challenges colonialist practice, and hence it is all too easy for colonialist agendas, through a ‘superior’ understanding of what ‘capacity’ means and how it should be developed, to be implemented in the name of community capacity building. It must be emphasised that the issue of colonialism is a difficult one for all people working with communities, whether they call it ‘capacity building’, ‘community development’, ‘community organising’, ‘community education’, ‘social animation’, or whatever. Although this chapter seeks to juxtapose community capacity building and community development it must not be thought that this implies that community development has ‘solved’ the problems of colonialist practice; indeed, the colonialist agenda is alive and well in many ‘community development’ projects. However it is also true that community development has wrestled with the issue, and with the challenge of practising in a counter-colonialist way. This is the consequence of community development having ‘been around’ for a long time, meaning

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that there has been time for issues to be raised, acknowledged, debated and addressed, and for the problematic of practice to be identified. This is not necessarily the case when a ‘new’ trend, such as community capacity building, emerges, often with little acknowledgement of theoretical development and practice wisdom that has been established in similar fields with different labels.

Something to measure One of the attractions of capacity building, in the age of managerialism, is that, unlike community development, it defines something that can be identified and measured, namely ‘capacity’. This, in theory, makes it much easier to measure the outcomes of the development project. If the aim is to build capacity, then a programme can be evaluated if it can be shown that ‘capacity’ has been increased as a result of the work that has been done. Community development, on the other hand, does not so readily present something that can be measured; ‘community’ has proved to be such a contradictory and complex idea that its measurement is clearly impossible. This is one of the attractions of ‘capacity building’ rather than ‘community development’ in a managerial environment. The idea of ‘social capital’ has been similarly attractive. Thinking about community in terms of social capital very clearly gives researchers and evaluators something to measure. Furthermore, like capacity, it provides a concept whose meaning can be clarified, which can be defined, and which gives the intellectual comfort of a feeling of ‘conceptual clarity’. Hence capacity building, like social capital, sits happily in a world of modernity, where the need to define, quantify and measure is seen as necessary for understanding and as a basis for appropriate action. The work of community workers can thus be defined in terms of clear objectives, measurable outcomes, performance indicators, and evidence-based practice. Such a positivist world view may make life easier for managers, funders and evaluators, but it does not necessarily coincide with the chaotic, messy and unpredictable reality of working with communities and ‘going with the flow’ of community processes, where things are usually not clear-cut or easily defined, and where ambiguity and contradiction are the norm. It is also a world view which is too sterile and ordered. In attempting to define and to measure, it can be argued that the positivist paradigm omits from consideration many of the most important aspects of being human, and of experiencing human community,

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which simply cannot be measured. Community development is essentially about human interactions, in all their wonder and complexity, and these often defy any attempt to operationalise and measure them. A more detailed critique of positivism is beyond the scope of this chapter, but one aspect of positivism is particularly noteworthy for present purposes. As Brian Fay argued back in the 1970s, a positivist paradigm is necessarily associated with a top-down, instrumentalist approach to practice (Fay, 1975). A social science that seeks to understand the world through measurement of quasi-objective phenomena, in a value-free way, and the establishment of causal laws governing the relationships between such phenomena, results in a form of practice that seeks to predict social events, and hence to be able to control them. The natural link between positivism and a ‘policy science’ or managerialist approach indicates that a positivist world view is not the objective value-neutral arena that it claims, but rather has an inherent bias towards a world of order and control. It accumulates knowledge that will be of use for the ruler rather than the ruled, for the manager rather than the managed, and for the development agency rather than for the people of the community. This bias in favour of knowledge for the powerful works against ideas of community empowerment and self-direction. Thus the ability of capacity building to give managers something to measure, and to use as a basis for decision-making and evaluation, takes the control of the programme out of the hands of the community and transfers it to the professional manager. While this may be seen as being in some circumstances beneficial, or even essential, it effectively works against community development and the idea of community control. Community members will not be expected to be able to measure ‘capacity’ or to understand the complex methodological challenges that this poses; this is clearly the domain of the expert, and thus the agenda becomes readily appropriated by managers and researchers rather than by community members themselves.

Building: a linear process The use of the word ‘building’ in the tern ‘community capacity building’ also implies a significant departure from community development, as it is commonly understood. Building is essentially a linear process. A foundation is laid, a frame is erected, building blocks are laid one on top of the other. It is a process that proceeds in an orderly, linear fashion. And it is a process that is planned in advance; a building that

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is not planned beforehand is likely to fall down, and even if it stays up it will certainly not be functional. Building also has to occur in a certain order; trying to put the roof on before the load-bearing walls are constructed is clearly not feasible. Hence the very use of the word ‘building’ implies a certain sort of process. There is a single edifice, and it is constructed in a linear orderly fashion. This is totally different from the reality of community life, and of community development. Community development is not an ordered, linear process. Rather it is an organic process, characterised by cycles rather than by linearity. Community life is messy, chaotic and contradictory, and any developmental attempt to impose an artificial order on it will destroy the very thing that the programme supposedly aims to develop. Effective community development needs to be able to live with the messiness and the contradictions, and to find ways to allow the spontaneous and the unexpected to emerge. Community development requires that processes, rather than outcomes or objectives, are seen as important, and ‘trust the process’ is an important principle for community development workers. The process may lead to very different places from what might have been envisaged, and this is seen as a benefit rather than a ‘failure to achieve objectives’. Allowing the process to take its course is the antithesis of the planned, ordered linear approach of ‘building’. Community development cannot be planned in advance, as ‘building’ implies. Indeed, the idea of ‘building’ assumes a clear understanding of the ultimate goal, and in this way the word ‘building’ reinforces the idea, discussed above, that the very use of the word ‘capacity’ assumes a prior definition of the ideal, of what ‘capacity’ is to be built. Hence the combination of ‘capacity’ with ‘building’ means that capacity building is goal oriented, purposeful and linear, the antithesis of a process-oriented community development. This inherent linearity of capacity building is particularly significant when working with indigenous communities, or indeed any community from a non-western cultural background. Indigenous people typically adopt more holistic, cyclical world views, and will often find the linearity of western thinking and western processes both unfamiliar and alienating. In such communities, the linearity of capacity building will be an alien concept, and it is unlikely that there will be ready participation in the process. This again reinforces the inherent colonialism behind the idea of capacity building, as it can readily represent the imposition of a western Enlightenment world view on people who are used to seeing the world in a very different way. Given the way in which that western Enlightenment world view has worked to

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devastate both human communities and the global environment, to the point where the very future of human ‘civilisation’ is threatened (Shiva, 2005), a more mature approach to indigenous communities is to seek to learn from their wisdom, rather than to ‘build’ their ‘capacity’.

Training One feature which figures prominently in the capacity building literature is the frequent emphasis on training (James, 2001; Plummer, 2000). Training is, in many accounts of capacity building, the principal method to be employed. Community members are trained, and they in turn train others, through the ‘train the trainer’ approach. The content of that training is presumably meant to ‘build capacity’, through specific training around governance, accountability, resource utilisation, and so on. In community development, training has a role, but it is only one aspect of a much broader developmental approach, and will often play a relatively minor part. Community development also involves animation, consciousness-raising, advocacy, conflict resolution, consensus building, cultural activities such as story-telling, dance and art, environmental awareness, activism, and many other activities, so training takes its place alongside these other practices (Ife and Tesoriero, 2006). It is certainly not the major focus of community development. Indeed, the idea of training epitomises the top-down approach, where the external ‘expert’ knows what it is that the community needs, and designs and delivers training programmes accordingly, hardly consistent with community self-determination. A community development approach will resist such training, and will confine training to the skills that a community itself has decided it needs, for example a community may decide that some people need to be trained in book-keeping, or in fund-raising techniques, or in computer skills, or in media relations. Training is not a significant driver of community development, in the way it is of capacity building. Training typifies Freire’s (1996) banking concept of education, where the knowledge is held in the head of the teacher and is transferred to the head of the student, like a commodity, without any transformation occurring, and with the role of the learner seen as passive recipient rather than active participant in the learning process. The learning is all one-way; there is no assumption that the teacher will also learn from the exchange, or of both teacher and learner being on a mutual journey

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of discovery. In working with communities on a training model, the community is seen as having everything to learn and nothing to teach, while the teacher has everything to teach and nothing to learn. This one-way knowledge transfer is the antithesis of good community development, as it devalues local knowledge and wisdom, and privileges the knowledge and expertise of the development expert. While the language of ‘empowerment’ may be used to give legitimacy to the process, the reality will be that the training agenda is firmly in the hands of the trainer, and only serves to reinforce the relative powerlessness of the community concerned, and to support the colonialist agenda discussed earlier. The word ‘training’ should ring alarm bells for any community development worker, as it is a likely sign that good community development principles are not being adopted. To equip someone to work well with communities requires education rather than training. Education assumes a more active role for the learner, as a seeker of knowledge and wisdom rather than as a passive recipient of skills training, and also assumes that the knowledge to be learned is at a more theoretical level, involving principles rather than a simple ‘how-to-do-it’. Every community will be different, and in the same community different circumstances will be evident at different times. What ‘works’ in one community will not necessarily work in another, and attempts to be prescriptive about ‘how to do it’ (as strongly implied in the notion of ‘training’) will not be effective. Similarly, what works for one community worker will not work for another, with a different personality, gender, cultural background or style of working. Rather than easily-learned rules of practice, a community worker needs to understand principles and processes at a more theoretical level, so that these principles can be applied differently in different contexts. This makes a community worker more of a streetlevel intellectual than a technician. Rather than following clear procedures, in which she/he has been ‘trained’, the community worker needs to be able to assess a situation, to be able to analyse it, think through different possibilities, and work collaboratively and imaginatively with community members to determine the most appropriate way forward, in partnership. However good the training, it will not prepare a worker for the eventualities of practice, and it is necessary for anyone working with communities to have a broader and more analytical perspective. Hence the very use of the word ‘training’ in the capacity building literature points to a specific characteristic of capacity building which is significantly different from the practice of good community development. Put simply, the argument is ‘Something is missing, namely capa-

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city, and the way to build that is through training’. This of course is a somewhat simplistic account of capacity building, but it represents the underlying assumption of much of the literature. It is certainly not an approach which is grounded in community development theory.

Process and outcome Much of the previous discussion can be summarised as the tendency for capacity building to result in outcome-focused development rather than process-oriented development. The tendency of capacity building to devalue process and to value outcome makes it thoroughly consistent with the outcomes-driven imperatives of managerialism, that true child of modernity, which holds that the outcome is more important than the means used to achieve it. It is only a short step from this outcomes-based approach to a view that the end justifies the means, and hence there is a clear separation of means and ends, with the only criteria for choice of means being efficiency and effectiveness. Such a separation of means and ends, however is both artificial and dangerous. It is artificial because ends can themselves become means to further ends, and means can themselves become ends. For example, in economic policy, sometimes reducing unemployment is regarded as an end in itself, while at other times it is seen as a means to achieving a healthy economy. This conflation of means and ends also becomes apparent when we consider capacity building. Capacity is in one sense a means – the capacity to achieve something – but in the context of ‘capacity building’ it becomes an end in its own right. Ends can become means and means can become ends, and to treat them separately is artificial. More importantly, however, drawing a distinction between means and ends, and seeing the ends as justifying the means, can be not only artificial but dangerous. Such simplistic utilitarianism can lead, in other contexts, to the justification of torture, the justification for weapons of mass destruction, and the justification of oppressive social and economic policies. Much evil can be done on the grounds of the end justifying the means, as the choice of means is never value-neutral; it cannot be based solely on efficiency and effectiveness. This may seem an extreme criticism to level at capacity building, but it does highlight one of its problems. Damage can be done to a community by an over-concentration on outcomes to the exclusion of process, and the outcome of ‘enhanced capacity’ may be achieved at the cost of traditional community structures and practices which, while not necessarily qualifying as ‘good governance’ in

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the world of western managers and funders, nevertheless represent important mechanisms to ensure community solidarity and the expression of important cultural traditions. Capacity, as noted above, is not a neutral concept, and when defined by managers and funders its ‘building’ may prove to be damaging to the community in unanticipated ways, especially where the end (capacity) is allowed to take precedence over the means. Indeed, by appearing to separate the ends from the means, a simplistic approach to ‘capacity building’ is built on a naiveté that simply cannot be sustained. In summary, community capacity building is primarily concerned with outcomes, and with providing communities with means to reach the desired (though often implicit) outcome. This is despite the fact that the language of ‘capacity’ apparently is oriented to means, superficially seeming to support the community’s ability to meet unspecified ends. But these ‘capacities’ have become ends in themselves, with the assumption that capacity must be ‘built’, and the community itself seems largely to be absent from the choice of what capacities are to be built, and how this could be achieved. Community development, by contrast, is more concerned with process, concentrating on ensuring good process, and on making that process truly owned and controlled by the community itself, recognising that it is only through good process that good outcomes will be reached.

Capacity building and Enlightenment modernity It is important to understand the phenomenon of community ‘capacity building’ within the broader context of the dominant discourses of the contemporary world in which it is located. In this light, it is clear that capacity building is firmly and uncritically located within the discourse of Enlightenment modernity. This is characterised by the search for certainty and the attempt to impose order and predictability on the world (Kumar, 1995; Seidman, 1994). It leads to linear thinking, a preoccupation with the measurable, and a corresponding devaluing of those things which cannot be readily or validly measured, and of more organic or holistic ways of thinking and understanding. It seeks to explain the world through the over-arching meta-narrative, and insists that there must be one best way to do things (‘best practice’). It sees the task of the theoretician, or intellectual, as to develop a ‘model’ within which things will fit, and which will turn something like community and community development into a planned, ordered and certain activity, as much as possible. The task of the practitioner, then, is to apply this model, with

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creativity and imagination at best marginalised, and at worst eliminated. It mistrusts chaos, messiness and contradiction, and seeks ways that these can be replaced with order and consistency. The pursuit of hierarchical order implies inequality: if two things/people/events/ideas/actions are different, then one will ‘naturally’ be preferable to the other, and it is important to determine which is the ‘better’ option. The notion of ‘equal but different’ sits uncomfortably within modernity, and this leads to the endless pursuit of finding the ‘best’, of ranking (whether it be schools, tennis players, novels, universities or popular songs), and of best practice. This is a natural consequence of a world view that seeks to order, to classify, and to establish meta-narratives as the primary form of explanation and understanding. And it leads to the devaluing of anything or anyone seen as ‘different’, and hence to discrimination on the grounds of race, gender, sexuality, culture, ability (physical and intellectual) and so on. The natural consequence of this world view is managerialism, which seeks to impose order, rationality and predictability on organisations, through the constant emphasis on plans, outcome measures, performance indicators, targets, efficiency and effectiveness. Ideas such as ‘best practice’, ‘evidence-based practice’, ‘benchmarking’, accountability (to managers, of course, rather than to the community), and an obsession with organisational restructure as the way to deal with any apparent problems, are indicative of the managerial paradigm. Community capacity building fits naturally within this managerial world. As noted above it implies a linear process, it builds something (capacity) that can be defined and measured, and it constructs communities and their problems in a way that readily fits the needs of managers. This is not to say that capacity building is a direct cause of the negative consequences of modernity: discrimination, colonialism, and so on. Rather it is to say that capacity building fits comfortably within this world view, and hence it helps to perpetuate it rather than to challenge it. Community development, on the other hand, has proved to be more problematic for managerialism and for modernity. It is more diffuse and complex, less ordered and directed, and it tends to accept messiness, uncertainty and disorder as the natural state of things without necessarily trying to impose order or certainty. Its acceptance of organic and unpredictable change, driven by process rather than by outcomes, does not fit the managerial paradigm, or the world view of modernity, as well. It can serve as a basis for questioning the project of modernity, in a way that capacity building does not. The project of modernity, it is now clear, has helped to produce a world that is not only colonial, with its origins in the western Enlightenment,

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but is also unsustainable (Shiva, 2005). The rejection of a more organic, holistic world view has devalued our interconnection with the environment, and the linear, classified, hierarchical world that modernity strives for is being shown to marginalise much of what is most important about the experience of humanity. There is no space here to outline the many ways in which modern society has proved to be unsustainable, but for present purposes the main point to make is that modernity is increasingly under threat, as other world views, both old and new, seek to understand the human experience in a different way. If working with communities is seen as ‘capacity building’ with all the connotations outlined above, it will not be part of this new questioning of modernity, and will inevitably become part of the problem rather than part of the solution. Working with communities will increasingly involve working with uncertainty rather than certainty, with ambiguity rather than clarity, with messiness rather than with order, with organic change rather than planned purposive change. These, after all, are characteristic of community life, and will not necessarily be ‘improved’ with the imposition of modernist certainty and order, in the form of linear ‘capacity’. Rather, a more post-modern approach to community development will be needed in working with communities, and community capacity building does not facilitate this. Such a world requires a special form of ‘development’, which is not necessarily correlated with growth, but which holistic and organic. It is a long way from the idea of ‘building capacity’.

Conclusion In juxtaposing community capacity building with community development, there is an obvious danger of over-simplification of each. It is clearly the case that a good deal of what is done in the name of capacity building may not fully fit the straightjacket of managerial modernity. However the point is that the very use of the words ‘capacity’ and ‘building’ lead naturally in that direction, and the language of capacity building readily accepts rather than challenges this paradigm. The use of this language to describe working with communities allows managers and funders to escape from some of the more difficult questions posed by other ways of working with communities, which are more legitimated by the term ‘community development’. It must not be thought, however, that everything labelled as ‘community development’ is progressive, post-modern, and standing against the managerial paradigm. A good deal of work done within the rubric of

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community development is conservative, colonial, and does not take account of the points made in this chapter; community development practice can be every bit as conservative as community capacity building. However the field of community development does allow for progressive, organic, bottom-up and post-modern practice, and it has been formulated in this way by a number of writers (Ife and Tesoriero, 2006; Ife, 2010; Kenny, 2006). This is the form of community development referred to in this chapter, juxtaposed with community capacity building which, it is argued, cannot easily incorporate such characteristics. Why was it necessary to invent a new term, community capacity building, while community development was already a commonly used term? As stated at the beginning of the chapter, language is important, and changes in language usage can indicate more significant changes in what that language represents. Apart from the apparent need to keep inventing new language to make it look as if we are doing something innovative, it can also be suggested that the emergence of ‘capacity building’ was an effective way of legitimising a conservative and managerial form of working with communities, which did not ask too many difficult questions, and which more readily fitted the requirements of the managers and funders, rather than the requirements of the communities themselves. Unfortunately the views of the people in the communities most affected seem to have had little say in the new wording and in all that it has implied.

References Atkinson, R. and Willis, P. (2006) Community Capacity Building: A Practical Guide Occasional Paper No 6, Housing and Community Research Unit, University of Tasmania http://www.utas.edu.au/sociology/HACRU/6 Community Capacity building.pdf Chaskin, R. (2001) ‘Building community capacity: A definitional framework and case studies from a comprehensive community initiative’, Urban Affairs Review, 36(3): 291–323. Craig, G. (2007) ‘Community capacity-building: Something old, something new … ?’, Critical Social Policy, 27(3): 335–359. Fay, B. (1975) Social Theory and Political Practice. London: Allen & Unwin. Freire, P. (1996) The Pedagogy of the Oppressed. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books. Ife, J. and Tesoriero, F. (2006) Community Development: Community-based Alternatives in an Age of Globalisation. Melbourne: Pearson 3rd edn. Ife, J. (2010) Human Rights from Below: Achieving Rights Through Community Development. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. James, R. (2001) Practical Guidelines for the Monitoring and Evaluation of CapacityBuilding: Experiences from Africa. Oxford: INTRAC (The International NGO Training & Research centre) Occasional Paper No. 36.

84 Capacity Building and Community Development Kenny, S. (2006) Developing Communities for the Future: Community Development in Australia 3rd ed. South Melbourne: Thomson. Kumar, K. (1995) From Post-Industrial to Post-Modern Society: New Theories of the Contemporary World. Oxford: Blackwell. McGinty, S. (2002) ‘Community capacity building’ presented at Australian Association for Research in Education Conference, Brisbane 2002 (http://www.aare. edu.au/02pap/mcg02476.htm). Plummer, J. (2000) Municipalities and Community Participation: A Sourcebook for Capacity Building. London: Earthscan Publications. Seidman, S. (ed.) (1994) The Postmodern Turn: New Perspectives on Social Theory. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Shiva, V. (2005) Earth Democracy: Justice, Sustainability and Peace. London: Zed Books. Smillie, I. (2001) ‘Capacity building and the humanitarian enterprise’, in Smillie, I. (ed.), Patronage or Partnership: Local Capacity Building in Humanitarian Crises. Bloomfield CT: Kumarian Press. Young, R. (2001) Postcolonialism: An Historical Introduction. Oxford: Blackwell.

Part II Practical Challenges of Capacity Building

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5 Emergent Drivers for Building and Sustaining Capacity in Australian Indigenous Communities Jill Abdullah and Susan Young

Introduction The perceived need for capacity building for Indigenous1 families and communities in Australia by policy-makers is based on the persistent negative indicators on all the relevant social, economic and health statistics. This results in the provision of ‘help’ to lift the capacities of Indigenous communities to overcome the conditions in which they live. We take little issue with capacity building per se in this chapter. Rather we wish to unpack how this ‘help’ is provided and with what results. This chapter will ‘background’ the debates about the deficits purported to be associated with Aboriginal people and communities (for that is how much of the capacity building policy and practice is constructed) without ignoring them, and ‘foreground’ the strengths, capabilities and resiliencies found in Aboriginal communities, as a way, not of denying the fragile state of First Nations Australian society, but of offering a picture that differs from that usually portrayed. As recently noted by Maddison (2009), this is the view that is almost always offered to a public which vacillates between interest and care, disinterest and accusatory blame. We provide an argument which, like Maddison’s, is not about ‘dysfunctional communities, welfare dependency, child abuse, alcohol or violence’ (2009:xxvi), but recognises Aboriginal people as ‘resourceful, creative and persistent’ (2009:xxvi) in the face of the many challenges they face. We apply a well known framework from the Brotherhood of St Laurence to discuss three case studies of capacity building in Indigenous communities to tease out what we have found ‘works’ in policy and practice. We end by making suggestions for inclusion into policy and practice to enhance Indigenous peoples’ and communities’ own journeys of wellbeing. 87

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We start this chapter with a case study which illustrates some of what we are calling emergent drivers of building and sustaining capacity with Indigenous people. Capacities here refer to those skills and knowledges that in non-Indigenous and non-disadvantaged settings would be called training, education and up-skilling, but when such activities refer to people whose circumstances are disadvantaged, they are linked to the perception that such communities are without capacity and require capacity building. Our approach to capacity building is from a strengths perspective; which holds that all people have knowledges and skills, all people can improve while at the same time all people need to learn in order to engage in different activities which contribute to their wellbeing and prosperity. In this chapter we explore some of the intersections between situations in which Indigenous people and communities have used the skills and knowledges they already have, sometimes against countervailing forces, and situations where external imperatives affect, both positively and negatively, Indigenous living conditions. We conclude by suggesting some of the practices that can be adopted by workers and policy-makers in their efforts towards building capacities for the benefit of Indigenous Australians. Case Study 1 A few years ago The Company2 had an opportunity to put into practice a collaborative arrangement with an international Corporation and the local Aboriginal community in Regional Australia, to provide an Aboriginal labour force for the Corporation’s mining operations. This relationship provided a unique opportunity to engage local Aboriginal people in a commercial joint venture. The Company facilitated the recruitment process by obtaining assistance in training and mentoring for the local Aboriginal community. To be successful this venture required industry, community and government to have a collective goal and to work as one team. The process of engaging community begins with building networks. This process commenced with two Aboriginal organisations representing the local community to meet to work together. Other stakeholders in the engagement process were the Land and Sea Council, The Company, the state government department responsible for economic development, the federal government department responsible for Indigenous employment, education and training, community elders, the local group training organisation as well as the Corporation.

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A Memorandum of Understanding (MOU) between all the key stakeholders evolved with the focus on training, employment and small business development opportunities for the local Aboriginal Community. The MOU acknowledged Aboriginal people’s connection to the land as paramount and there was a significant commitment to and a recognition at all times of the particular groups on whose land the businesses operated. Extensive consultation was undertaken by The Company and the Corporation’s Indigenous Teams with the local Aboriginal community to identify the right people to talk for country and meetings with Elders identified their directions. This enabled businesses to deliver a clear outline of the project and services to the community. All the people representing the stakeholders were Aboriginal including government officials and discussions were undertaken in a culturally sensitive manner. Agreement was reached to progress the partnership and ultimately the MOU. The success of the consultations was the united vision between the two local Aboriginal organisations. The next step was the development of an independent Aboriginal company where funding was sourced from both of the government stakeholders. When the new independent Aboriginal company commenced, it was supported by external advisors for commercial advice. A Board of Directors was established, supported by special advisors to the Board. The Board had corporate governance training and began to function as a viable entity. The focus of Board meetings were collective discussions, followed by negotiations to ensure mutual benefits for all involved. In particular, the Board had the opportunity to decide upon and administer the processes to provide multifaceted training and business development services to industry with Aboriginal participation. The growth of the Board culminated with administration and accounting support, advice from industry at regular meetings and an agreement by all parties to implement a training programme with six local Aboriginal trainees to be employed by The Company. Also, the Board was to initiate discussions with the Corporation to develop initial contract opportunities to support employment and business development. Throughout this process of meetings with the Corporation, Company and the Board there were effective and healthy relationships evidenced by open communication and an enthusiasm not seen in the town for some time. The newly formed Board representing the two Aboriginal organisations gained the support of the community who had employment options open to them, and multiple opportunities for work: in the

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Aboriginal company, the Corporation, or The Company. The Aboriginal company provided cohesion and a shared vision for sustainable relationships, a local business and workforce. Also, the community developed confidence in industry and the industry supported the local Aboriginal community by including the community in providing local solutions. Most importantly this was a collaborative venture, managed and controlled by Aboriginal people.

Capacity building, Indigenous communities and the corporate world This snap shot illustrates operations which are now enacted in many of the dealings between The Company and the many Corporations with which it has contracts. The articulation of a Local Community/ Indigenous Peoples Standard ensures that the contracts include a commitment to developing and maintaining relationships of mutual understanding and respect, total protection of Indigenous cultural heritage on all work sites, and provision of appropriate Indigenous employment and training opportunities to provide clear and long lasting benefits for local communities. While collaborative ventures such as these could be regarded as tokenism or assimilatory by those outside the process with the misconceptions of high risk Indigenous companies, this strategy recognises Indigenous communities’ valuable contribution to industry. In fact, even though the strategy aims to ensure work-readiness and the learning of other skills, it is as much recognising and valuing the abilities already present in complex and rich Indigenous communities as it is trying to fill a gap (in knowledge and skills). Indigenous people already have an ability to walk in two worlds. That this is not generally acknowledged in the principles on which capacity building are premised indicates the view that Aboriginal people are in need of tuition in how to walk in the dominant non-Indigenous world, constructing this as a lack or deficit. However, Indigenous people have always adapted and integrated endogenous change into their every day experience, when they have seen the value of aspects of the non-Indigenous world. This example shows that the process of employment, knowledge, power, skills and participation in a non-Aboriginal world can be an empowering one, where individuals develop the skills and knowledge important to progress in the dominant world and still retain their own Indigenity. At the same time, knowledge of different cultural processes was transmitted to non-Indigenous people, and these processes benefited the progress of the agreements. Importantly, when

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people are treated as equal partners in the process, benefits can accrue to all. A model for examining capacity building with Indigenous people The example above suggests elements of a framework through which to examine capacity building as an emergent and sustained process in Indigenous Australia. There are four principles of this framework which will be discussed later. The example demonstrates that Indigenous people already have capacities which have enabled them to adapt to and embrace change. Without the opportunities to engage in equal partnerships with people from a dominant culture and so exercise some measure of control over resources, relationships, information and decision-making (Liffman, 1978), the changes are likely not to be of their choosing and resistance may well result. These resistances can take many forms, not least of which may be withdrawal. We examine capacity building as a public policy direction and a practice activity through this framework. We do not suggest that here this is a theorised concept, and we do not intend engaging in the theoretical debate. Rather this is a method for exploring how Indigenous people demonstrate resilience and strength in the face of the serious and disadvantaged circumstances in which many live. At the same time it is a way of exploring those circumstances and their effect with subsequent implications for the future in our practice and policy. This framework has not, to our knowledge, been used to examine capacity building in Australia before, but is a practice framework of long standing, stemming from the work of the Brotherhood of St Laurence (BSL) in Australia. Devised in the 1970s to guide their work with people in poverty, it was quickly adopted by various organisations, such as the Western Australian Department for Community Services3 for its work with developmental projects, especially with Indigenous communities and was often referred to as inspiration for and analysis of programmes with disadvantaged people (Benjamin et al., 1997; Thorpe, 2002; Mendes, 2007). The process could variously be aligned with empowerment (Lee, 1994) or anti-oppressive (PrestonShoot, 1995) practices in the social and human services as an attempt to redress the ‘power over’ syndrome which exemplifies much professional practice, and which Sanderson (2009) has named ‘assimilatory’. As an analytical framework, it proposes questions to which the answers assist in assessing what is happening and why. A question concerning Relationships, for example asks: What ability do communities have to choose who they will work with? Here we may identify the mechanisms

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which are used by external agencies in their policies and practices and we may suggest more culturally appropriate means for allocating representatives, negotiators or facilitators. As a practice framework, the framework is a guide for how to work with disempowered people. So for example, a question under the heading Decision-Making asking who are the internal decision-makers and who represents them externally, may be necessary to meet cultural protocols and enable good working relationships to be formed. These two purposes, analytical and practical, will be used to examine how capacity building may be understood as practices to suggest appropriate ways forward for capacity building in Indigenous communities. The BSL framework could be considered to be an early form of what has since been called the Strengths Approach in social work (Saleebey, 1992) which privileges individual, family and community strengths or assets over their deficits. The approach acknowledges that problems and serious needs exist, but in the work to address these, workers affirm that all people have something that they can do and something that they know, and these can be harnessed to address problems. One result of the tendency in the human services towards treating problems is that the people experiencing the problems often become characterised as being the problem (Young, 2003) much in the same way as patients in hospital become known for their condition rather than as the persons they are. A strengths approach seeks to reverse this tendency and to use what people can do and know about to implement change in their lives. Criticisms of this approach exist (Black and Hughes, 2001), but the principles of acknowledging that people are more than their problems, have many aspects to their characters and, in the main, want to improve their living circumstances through active participation underpin the strengths perspective.

Capacity building policy and programmes: two case studies Another two case studies provide the opportunity to apply this framework to examine the extent to which public policy and subsequent practice has enabled Indigenous people to exercise some control over its direction and outcomes. Firstly the Communities for Children Initiative of the federal government’s Stronger Families and Communities Strategy; to be followed by an examination of capacity building in remote Australia.

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The Communities for Children Initiative of the Stronger Families and Communities Strategy The Communities for Children (CfC) initiative is one of the streams of the Federal Government’s Stronger Families and Communities Strategy (SFCS) and had a major focus on Indigenous people. This strategy was constructed on the principle of the strengths-based approach and was part of the government’s broader capacity building policy arena. In the work towards creating better futures for children from disadvantaged environments,4 the intended development of capacity envisioned at the beginning of the strategy can be illustrated through the outcomes hierarchy which moves from participation (level 1) to stronger families and communities (level 7) (Scougall, 2008a). Level 4, for example, expects the ability to apply capacity to address challenges and seize opportunities, leading to levels 5 and 6 which incorporate resilience, sustained participation and self-determination. An unusual funding model was used premised on the belief that local people know best the needs in their areas and the processes that will assist to make positive change. A non-government organisation (Facilitating Partner (FP)) which was not necessarily local to the area, was contracted to sub-contract to Community Partners (CPs) who were locally-based agencies, to design and deliver children’s services which would become self-sustaining after the term of the programme (four years for most). While the forty-five sites were selected on the basis of socio-economic indicators and not for the particular racial composition, inevitably some sites have large representative Aboriginal populations and so are included in the overall targeting of Aboriginal capacity building.

Power5 over resources In many of the sites Indigenous organisations were successful in winning tenders to provide the desired services and for some it represented the only financial support available to them. Some local Indigenous organisations existed prior to the initiative and in both cases it could be said they already have developed capacity. By their involvement, though, they ran the risk of their priorities being subsumed or completely rejected by the priorities of the Strategy. If priorities came into conflict it was likely that the CPs would lose their funding which was allocated on a year by year basis. The requirement of sustainability after the funding period has affected the viability of projects especially as a four year time frame is widely

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acknowledged to be very short (Gordon et al., 2002; Scougall, 2008a). This is particularly true in Indigenous settings where the lack of infrastructure and other factors mean that there is not a standard starting point. In one example, as the funding period is coming to an end, it is only now that a programme which focuses on young Indigenous mothers accessing hospital services is starting to be used. It has taken four years of steady work to build trust to reach this point. However, the work that has been done through including this service, ensuring that the project representatives are invited to participate in all CfC events and committee meetings has influenced other services to take more interest in the Indigenous community and to actively seek them as partners in associated projects. This has culminated in this example in the local municipal council providing a shared facility for all Aboriginal groups which now encourages many activities where once these were fragmented and piecemeal. It is clear that capacity previously existed amongst the people who participate and drive the projects. The greater needs were twofold: resource provision to support these abilities and knowledges and recognition of and subsequent adherence to cultural imperatives. Acknowledging these requirements was a central plank of the 2004 Parliamentary Inquiry into capacity building and service delivery in Indigenous communities (Wakelin, 2004) which noted that as well as building capacity in communities and of individuals, the capacity of government agencies and service providers to work more appropriately with Indigenous communities and people was an urgent matter. This example illustrates the ways in which government and other service providers learned to work more culturally appropriately with Indigenous service providers and communities and so had the opportunity to develop more productive and culturally responsive capacities through the CfC process. This example not only raises the issue of to whom shall be allocated material resources, but also the issue of non-material resources, and both of these involve relationships. We deal with these under the next heading.

Power over relationships Relationships here will be discussed under the concept of Social Capital, as well as the complex area of Indigenous relationships as a central driver of social organisation. Social capital is widely recognised as a valuable resource (Coleman, 1988; Cox, 1995; Baum et al., 2000). The modern ‘father’ of social capital,

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Putnam (1993) used the term to describe social connections and citizen engagement in community life which are characterised by networks, norms and trust, and so connects to how power over relationships may be enhanced. Social capital concerns the relationships which support and enhance people’s ability to be self-directed and self-reliant. The CfC initiative was expected to develop social capital to the extent that the projects would be more reliant on local networks and active contributions of time and participation from local people after the funding period. We have seen above that working relationships developed to the extent of providing necessary material and non-material infrastructure. But we also saw that trust between the Indigenous group and the people targeted by the service (young pregnant women) and other service providers took time to develop. Relationships between Indigenous people and non-Indigenous service providers have a chequered history characterised by a distinct lack of trust. What appears to be the most common form of social capital in Indigenous society is bonding social capital which provides mutual support between people who know each other and who are more likely to be family or kin (Woolcock and Narayan, 2000). In the example above, the time taken to establish bridging social capital, or the informal supportive partnerships between people who start off by being strangers – that is, they are not family or kin – has almost exceeded the funding period with uncertainty about the future of the project. This agency is most likely to need linking social capital, or the provision of formal social services, and so not meet the Strategy’s self-sustainability requirements, despite the generation of positive working relationships with other service providers. The recognition that kin relationships are the central social organising mechanism (Maddison, 2009) as well as acknowledging the persistent racist rejection of Aboriginal people as ‘other’ (Brough et al., 2006) results in the reliance on bonding capital for Indigenous families. Without the other forms of adequate social capital, an over-reliance on already stretched support can result in, at best, continued mutual support, or, at worst, diminishing even further these stocks of support. Family and kin groupings, therefore, tend to be present in the services such as these. The second area of relationships concerns the extent to which Indigenous people may choose and exercise some authority over those service providers with whom they will work. In the Communities for Children initiative Indigenous groups had a choice of sorts, whether or not to tender for the available funding for projects. That money was set aside in this Strategy for Indigenous projects and the initiative guided by an

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Indigenous Roundtable notwithstanding, Indigenous groups have little opportunity to choose working relationships. The mechanisms for inclusion under the Strategy require that the successful tenderers for provision of services agree to participate under the banner of the Facilitating Partner (FP). The choice of FP was conducted by the department for Families, Housing, Community Services and Indigenous Affairs (FaHCSIA) and in some cases the non-government organisation was new to the location of the CfC site. This meant it was unlikely that any of the Community Partner organisations would have previously had relationships with the FP. This is especially true of small local Indigenous organisations as none of the FPs were Indigenous organisations, with the exception of a consortium including Indigenous groups in north-eastern Western Australia. Building trust between organisations where there have been negative experiences with health and welfare organisations is and remains troublesome. Additionally, non-Indigenous perceptions of the forms and process of interaction and therefore what can be expected from Indigenous groups shapes relationships between policy-makers, service providers and the Indigenous groups themselves. As Cummins et al. (2008) point out the non-Indigenous perception of Aboriginal ‘community’ does not necessarily represent how the Aboriginal group so constructed thinks of themselves, even while it may be politically purposeful for funding. Capacity building policies, funding and activities tend to target groups without teasing out the intricacies of how the people view themselves, a fact noted by the Parliamentary Inquiry into capacity building and service delivery in Indigenous communities in 2002 (Wakelin, 2004). Individuals at any one time will consider themselves to belong to a number of different communities. The aims and activities of these different communities may sometimes be in conflict, or at least not share the imperatives of each group. When this occurs in Aboriginal settings there are a number of public responses, usually negative. There are accusations of ‘feuding’, used to demonstrate the inability of Aboriginal people to manage their differences in a ‘civilised’ way, imputing that they cannot engage in the expected governance and regulation of their members without resorting to ‘personal’ retorts. Nepotism charges are laid when family members are included in organisations in official roles. And often organisations are portrayed as ‘dysfunctional’ because the management is inadequate or incompetent; considered by some individuals as existing solely for their own individual reward, and therefore corrupt; or serving no purpose that could not be conducted by ‘mainstream’ organisations and so accused as

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being either a drain on the public purse or giving unfair advantages on the basis of race. The CfC example shows that it is possible that trust may eventually be built between Indigenous and non-Indigenous groups, and that the perception of Indigenous groups by others may change such that a central facility was made available. Greater capacity within and between organisations has been an outcome and even though power over relationships with others is limited under this Strategy (and other policy areas), the possibility of forming productive partnerships should not be underestimated. Non-Indigenous staff and organisations can develop very necessary capacities to work in more culturally relevant and respectful ways and in the ensuing partnerships Indigenous organisations can have more equal relationships of their choosing. This is shown in those nonCfC projects which include cultural awareness training and other activities (Scougall, 2008b; Scougall, 2008c; Scougall, 2008d). Power, over relationships and how it is developed and maintained are of crucial importance.

Power over information/knowledge The Stronger Families and Communities Strategy relies heavily on collected data describing normative benchmarks of success, failure or need. These benchmarks are a blunt instrument on which to base measures to improve health and wellbeing, although that they are needed is not doubted. The Strategy was mindful of the potential for imposition on Indigenous communities by using these data and convened an Indigenous Community Capacity Roundtable to develop additional principles for how the strategy should proceed with Indigenous people. Knowledge is an extension of information. However, this does not mean that Indigenous knowledges became the centrepiece of the Strategy. Few of the local funded urban projects were Indigenous run and managed projects and those that were, were predicated on assisting Indigenous people to join mainstream services as we saw with the example of the young pregnant women. This is understandable and important, but it does reinforce the ‘assimilatory’ claims made by Sanderson. However, there are associated benefits. The example used above includes a ‘yarning’ (Lynn et al., 1998) process between the project workers and the young women, and this extends to demonstrating other ways of working to ‘mainstream’ workers. These formal and informal cultural awareness activities contribute to the partnership approaches and extend understanding of Indigenous culture more widely, with the hopeful

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benefit of increasing government capacity to work with Indigenous people and communities. Other examples in the CfC initiative include Indigenous Playgroups, which, while founded on ideas which originated from a Western setting, fitted well with Indigenous family models. These and other projects sought to build on Indigenous knowledges and styles of operating thus enhancing already present skills and knowledges, encouraging their development in others for whom they are not so readily present and above all demonstrating the ability of Indigenous parents and individuals to contribute their own knowledges and skills.

Power over decision-making All the ‘powers’ discussed above are designed to lead to the ability of participants to make informed, considered decisions, which will contribute to their being able to take better or more control over their lives. Has this happened in the experience of those participants in the SFCS? The Strategy’s National Evaluation clearly notes that stronger Indigenous families and communities at the lower levels of the Outcomes Hierarchy, that is Levels 1 and 2, in increasing participation and awareness; but resilience, sustained participation and self-reliance at the higher levels are less likely to be achieved (Scougall, 2008a). Entrenched racism, hostile environments, poor infrastructure as well as internal issues such as peer pressure are cited as reasons. While Indigenous people have participated in the local level projects and have witnessed benefits, this has not extended to their exercising higher levels of influence over decisionmaking rather than at the day-to-day project level. Until this happens, Indigenous people are unlikely to be able to significantly influence policy direction to include their preferred mode of operating.

Comment What this programme does not define in detail is the nature of community. The anticipated outcome is that after the funded period of four years6 there will be fully functioning socially cohesive ‘communities’, responsive to and supportive of the needs of the inhabitants. Not taken into account is the diversity and mobility of the population, with their different histories, experiences and needs; or the wherewithal for engagement in such a short space of time. Seeking such uniform social cohesion across Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples signifies a return to an assimilatory project and fails to address the still unmet recognition of equal partnerships in the political body (Nelson, 2007).

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Given that each of the sites for the programmes was selected on the basis of disadvantage and negative social indicators, the aim of having fully functioning communities is probably unrealistic, for capacity building within these areas can only achieve so much without addressing other more deeply entrenched inequalities. As noted by Scott in Maddison (2009:158), the hoped for development of human capital leading to broader social capital is only possible when people are not ‘fighting … to survive’. If we use Hunt and Smith’s (2007) definition of Aboriginal community as ‘a network of people and organisations linked together by a web of personal relationships, cultural and political connections and identities, networks of support, traditions and institutions, shared socioeconomic conditions, OR (our emphasis) common understandings and interests’, we can see how complex an undertaking the CfC project is in relation to Aboriginal people. It is entirely possible that the Indigenous agencies which participate in the CfC initiative, relate more to people and Aboriginal agencies outside their areas than they relate to each other. A further complication has been, since the beginning of funding directed specifically to Aboriginal organisations in the 1970s, the insistence that ‘community’ be the whole grouping and not the kin relationships which are more reflective of how Indigenous people think of themselves. Funding kin groups is considered by non-Indigenous people to be unacceptable, when in fact people have greater obligations to family than those outside the kin group (Geoff Scott in Maddison, 2009:157). Far better, says Peters-Little (2000) to permit Aboriginal people to establish their own structures. The use of the term community without Aboriginal consultation, self-analysis and definition has in fact acted as a barrier to their own self-determination, setting communities up for administrative failure, thus denying Aboriginal people the opportunity to work through the development process, with specialized professional support, in their own time (2000:10). The ‘community’ discourse as articulated for disadvantaged people through the CfC is contradicted by the fact that Australia’s history of Indigenous/non-Indigenous relationships belies the notion of ‘a social environment conducive to trust building (one of the main components of bridging social capital)’ (Brough et al., 2006). As discussed above, four years of the programme had to pass before the Indigenous project Community Partner participated more widely and interacted with other

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CPs, and even now a level of suspicion remains among the service users of the wider community. If the success of the CfC is predicated on forming functioning supportive communities, then in these cases social cohesion refers mainly to non-Indigenous members of the community, which in itself is not an unwelcome outcome, but not sufficient for the inclusion of Indigenous people into these communities. Capacity building in remote settings Thus far we have drawn our examples from urban and regional Australia. Although most Aboriginal people are urban-dwelling, comprising approximately seventy percent of the total Indigenous population ABS 2001 (Wakelin, 2004), by far the most politically visible are those dwelling in remote Australia, attracting recent far reaching policy decisions. In this next section we explore how capacity building measures have been implemented and with what effect in remote Australian communities, again using the BSL framework.

Power over resources Across Australia remote Indigenous communities have had differential experiences of resourcing, ranging from receipts from Mining Royalties paid to Land Councils, direct funding for specific services to set up outstations, employment funding through the diversion of social security benefits to the CDEP ‘work for the dole’ scheme and others, including the 2007 Northern Territory Emergency Response (NTER).7 In very few of these projects have Indigenous people had the authority to decide on the uses to which these resources should be put, or the autonomy to use these resources as they wished. The Department of Aboriginal Affairs (DAA) established by the Whitlam government in the 1970s was perhaps the exception and possibly the reason why subsequent provision was severely circumscribed. The provision of resources such as funding for community infrastructure, which included vehicles, resulted in a common perception of waste and mismanagement. The brave attempt at self-determination and self-management was ‘proved’ to be utopian and resource restrictions resulted. However, this policy was an attempt at capacity building, in recognising previous injustices carried out against Indigenous communities and seeking to give people the right to decide their futures and to implement activities which they thought would benefit them. In fact this understanding of the importance of Indigenous capacity building was the reason for the conversion of social security benefits to the Community Development Employment Projects (CDEP) process which

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was done at the request of leaders in the Northern Territory who did not want so-called ‘sit down’ money coming into their communities (Antonios, 1997; Sanders, 1998). Many projects commenced during the latter half of the 1970s which sought to provide communities with autonomy and economy. The fact that they were ill-advised (providing sea fishing equipment for desert dwellers for example) and inadequately resourced did not detract from the intention to have Indigenous communities determining their own futures. However, being dependent on government funding, having little infrastructure, and even fewer opportunities for economic development meant that self-determination was limited. Furthermore the inability to succeed as autonomous communities tended to result in the perception of Indigenous communities as failed communities who did not have the capacity for success, and led to calls from federal government ministers and others to close these ‘hellholes’ and ‘cultural museums’ (Heywood, 2005; The Age, 2006) in the lead-up to the Northern Territory Emergency Response. Remote communities in all parts of Australia have by any standards been fragile, not least for the ways in which governments have not provided the necessary infrastructure support that would usually be expected as citizenship rights, such as access to adequate health and education services, sanitation, housing and employment opportunities. That these have been largely missing over the period since Indigenous Communities in remote Australia became officially recognised through variable Land Rights legislation in the Northern Territory and some Australian states (Chesterman and Galligan, 1997), has been identified as a failure of all three levels of government in provision, coordination and authority (Altman, 2000; Taylor, 2007). Additionally within this debate lies a significant omission – the economic contribution made by Indigenous people and communities to the wider society as studies such as Crough and Christophersen (1993) have shown. And yet there have been successes with Indigenous people in remote communities taking charge of their resources and using them for purposes they decide in ways that make best sense to them. Art, media, and tourism are some of the areas where it has possibly not been considered important enough for government to place restrictions, while at the same time as over the years all these areas have been used by government to train people for employment. Central Australian Aboriginal Media Association (CAAMA) and Magabala Books are among a number of examples which seek to enhance Aboriginal control over resources, and, arguably, control over media is a control over cultural production and maintenance. Moreover, tourism projects bring together care for the land,

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cultural heritage and economic development to benefit local people (Fullera et al., 2005) even while these remain fragile. Perhaps the greatest potential resource asset has been the controversial Native Title (NTA) legislation of 1993. Even though Land Rights and Native Title are demonstrably outside of the control of Indigenous people, as others make the decisions of allocation and location, they have failed to deliver substantial benefits or resources to most Aboriginal people. Subsequent restrictions and legal challenges by governments have meant gains have been minimal, but an unexpected outcome has been the preparedness of some mining companies to negotiate with traditional owners in a reversal of the approach prior to the NTA’s enactment (O’Faircheallaigh, 2006). Subsequently governments have negotiated with traditional owners. For example a recent agreement was made between the Western Australian Premier and traditional owners, notwithstanding his previous threats to forcibly acquire land for economic development (Banks, 2009). Although complete autonomy is not part of these arrangements, they do give a measure of control to some of these resources to Aboriginal people and communities.

Power over relationships As mentioned earlier, relationships are the central organising principle in Indigenous communities. Maintaining and regulating these occupy much attention and time and are recognised by external inquiries and reports, such as the Parliamentary Inquiry into capacity building and service delivery in Indigenous communities (Wakelin, 2004), but not substantially supported by any associated resourcing processes. The maintenance and regulation of relationships are also central to Indigenous people’s ability to structure and provide information and knowledge and to make the decisions necessary for the stability of their communities. From the earliest re-establishment of remote communities in the 1970s,8 non-Indigenous structures have been the required form in order to receive funding. ‘Properly’ constituted committees of management to oversee and be accountable for expenditure in non-Indigenous terms of reference do not mirror Indigenous structures. Furthermore they rely on familiarity with and ability to use English language procedures and materials and are more likely to default to the younger educated members who can more easily understand and use these processes than the Elders, thereby effectively, but not necessarily intentionally usurping traditional authority. Such relationships do not characterise autonomy. They thus are shaped according to these external require-

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ments, meeting ‘top-down’ (Maddison, 2009:27) interests in accounting for funding to the funders. Outside of these processes it is almost certain that traditional relationships continue to wield greater power and effect in ways that may not even be glimpsed by non-Indigenous people. As Jewell (2009) relates in his research, it is clear that a separate ‘domain’ exists in which much of the business central to the maintenance of relationships occurs. This is unseen and perhaps unknown by non-Indigenous others affecting government officials and other workers in their planned and implemented programmes in remote communities. The non-Indigenous school term being interrupted by Law business, government officials wishing to arrange meetings during Sorry time and workers absent for traditional and family business are all likely to be sources of tension. A significant power that Indigenous people in remote communities have been able to use to define the relationships they have with some non-Indigenous people has been through the permit system. Most Australian states and the Northern Territory have permit legislation to provide communities with control over who comes onto Aboriginal land and when. Such protective measures to ensure privacy in remote communities have both vociferous supporters and detractors and the permit system was one of the casualties of the NTER. Mainstream media outlets have decried the permit system, citing the public right to know as reason enough to be able to visit where and when they consider access a matter of sufficient public interest. The counter argument is that the permit system protects Aboriginal communities from unwarranted intrusions which extend the already burdensome surveillance measures over Indigenous communities (Ross, 2007). The BSL considered giving people choices over working relationships to be central to people’s autonomy. Some Indigenous communities in Western Australia have been given part of this authority to accept or reject short listed candidates for the Child Protection positions allocated following the WA Government’s response to the Gordon Inquiry recommendations (Gordon et al., 2002).9 While this does not constitute complete control over relationships, it does signify a considerable change to the usual practices of government. A sense of control and ownership over these workers has resulted in fostering good working relations.

Power over information/knowledge We have seen that cultural knowledge remains central to the operation of remote communities. Despite the labelling of such communities as

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‘cultural museums’ (Heywood, 2005), and the debate over the need for remote communities to adopt and learn ‘twenty-first century ways’, such as English language, maths and other mainstream subjects learnt in schools in order to become ‘welfare in-dependent’ (Storry, 2007), policy-makers recognise in principle the importance of cultural knowledge. Native title and heritage laws also recognise the importance of traditional knowledge over cultural sites, with a greater or lesser degree of Indigenous autonomy and authority. How this is translated into support for the maintenance, protection and dissemination of traditional knowledge is questionable. Programmes and practices have the tendency towards maintaining, perhaps unconsciously, assimilatory aspirations. There is also the suspicion that cultural knowledge is valued for its marketing potential, as in art and cultural performances. Despite this, there is also the desire amongst Indigenous communities to share their knowledge. Performances at International Arts Festivals are constructed accordingly to try to engender a greater awareness and appreciation of the history and richness of Aboriginal culture. As the recording of the presentation of dances from the Western Desert to the Perth International Arts Festival in 2007 states ‘We invite you to see our country, learning Yarnangu way’. Contrary to being a ‘cultural museum’, the people of the Ngaanyatjarra Lands maintain a vibrant and changing culture: ‘We are always creating new laws and we are always remembering old ones’ (Ngaanyatjarra Media, 2007). The danger in these presentations is that cultural activities may be relegated to the quaint and observed for their curiosity value. Cultural visits and tours by Indigenous people are provided to engage the visitor in a deeper spiritual understanding of country and law in attempts to dispel this potential. How well they succeed is variable. At a personal level, people, including policy-makers, may be deeply touched; at a policy level, there are still questions as to the viability of maintaining communities which wish to continue their cultural practices.

Power over decision-making With all the above initiatives in mind, particularly the Community Development Employment Projects, Native Title, and cultural knowledge, it remains true that the extent to which Indigenous communities have autonomy over the decisions they can make with authority is still limited. The Australian Dialogue,10 launched in 2008 to address constitutional and practical reform of Indigenous relations in Australia would recognise this and locate Indigenous people as more central owners of their own decisions.

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Strategies and practices for policy-makers and practitioners We would like to lead in to this last section by quoting an Indigenous academic and social worker Lila Watson who said: If you have come to help me you are wasting your time. But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.11 We have seen that in the application of strategies to build capacity in Indigenous communities, the opportunities for Indigenous people to select appropriate strategies and direct how they unfold are few, leaving the control over design and implementation to others. Despite the substantial array of deficits of resources and the acknowledged need for improved skills and knowledges, we have also seen that Aboriginal people do indeed have spheres of influence in which may be seen strengths and resilience which are exercised to shape their lives. Others before us have recognised this fact and we wonder why, given the range of authors and other interested people who have recommended ways to assist in a capacity building effort that acknowledges and builds on the strengths, it still seems important to add our voices in support of a ‘bottom-up’ approach where the ‘top-down’ approach seems to have had so little in the way of positive outcomes. So we return to one of these advocates whose set of recommendations for successful capacity building (Rogan, 2002)12 allows us to draw from our examples and discussion to make some suggestions for policy and practice. While these recommendations were addressed to capacity building in both Indigenous and non-Indigenous settings, we find it appropriate that this should be so, as non-Indigenous Australia has much to learn from the strengths and abilities of Indigenous Australians, just as it is important for the skills and knowledges of non-Indigenous Australia to be learned and practised by Indigenous Australians in their movement between two worlds. Our initial case study emphasised the principle of partnerships, which are between equals and thus are genuine, inviting all participants to have their say and have their wants and needs equally considered. Sanderson’s (2009) call for a negotiated set of arrangements between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australia is relevant here. These partnerships include government, business and representative bodies. Being able to have a genuine say in what projects should be implemented and how they should proceed is another key plank to this capacity building process. Instead of designing projects away from localities where they are to be

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implemented, as we saw with the Community for Children initiative, a more genuine capacity building approach would involve the local people at the start. Giving local people the authority to control priorities and resources is a necessary step. That this should occur in genuine partnership acknowledges the supportive interdependencies for sustainable change. The provision of adequate resources as an investment is an essential requirement and acknowledges that repairing the neglect of the past will be costly. But it requires more than this – it requires that the people be given resources, including funding, over which they have discretion to use flexibly and creatively. Imagination and innovation are more likely if people who have a lived investment in the change processes are able to adapt and create according to their experiences, as long as they are linked into mainstream programmes which themselves can benefit from the innovations. Time is also a much overlooked resource but one that is essential for success of programmes and initiatives. Time is often what policy-makers don’t have or don’t want to spend, but for developmental projects without time there is likely no project. Indigenous trust of non-Indigenous people, institutions and systems is tenuous, and restoring it will take time, as will the learning of appropriate skills and knowledges to do the work. However if time as a resource is added to these other resources, sustainability is a more likely outcome as people have a chance to see how their ideas work, adapt them to meet changing circumstances. All these are predicated on sufficient investment from government and the nation. The development of human capital including skills to manage community and local organisational life and the nurturing of leadership at both formal and informal levels are essential so that local people can confidently have the authority over the shape and direction of change in their lives. Scougall’s (2008b; Scougall, 2008c; Scougall, 2008d) many examples of developed attributes as part of the Stronger Families and Communities Strategy demonstrate the worth of local investment. The formation of social capital so encouraged is more likely to relieve the already stretched demands on immediate family and helps to further develop supportive social networks often eroded by external circumstances. While deliberate up-skilling formed part of the activities in the case studies it was also clear that some of these skills were already present which belies the assumption of a general lack of skills and knowledge. In order for these abilities to be nurtured and maintained, it is important that government and other players take seriously the creation of an appropriate and coordinated policy framework to support and enable

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rather than to direct the work. We have cited several instances of policies designed elsewhere and implemented according to policy-makers’ wishes not those of the communities, effectively denying Indigenous control. As the Parliamentary Inquiry into capacity building and service delivery in Indigenous communities noted ‘one size does not fit all’ (Wakelin, 2004:3), and it is a costly mistake to continue to design programmes with this underlying expectation. The relative success of some of the Communities for Children Indigenous projects owes less to the overall programme design than it does to the local people and their own abilities to persevere. Practice coordination follows. This extends one of the findings of the Parliamentary Inquiry (Wakelin, 2004), that among the most useful strategies non-Indigenous workers can do to assist in capacity building is to ensure that services are coordinated; that they know what each other is doing and when; that they don’t unnecessarily duplicate or demand separate individual responses from Indigenous people; and that they make it quite clear that this is what they are doing and why. For in the end they are there to assist the people in their efforts to create the sorts of lives they want for themselves. Paying attention to these processes and providing much needed and adequate resources will test policy-makers’ resolve and challenge practitioners – to do nothing condemns us all to continued and increasingly fragile situations.

Notes 1 There is a current debate as to which term is more appropriate: Aboriginal or Indigenous to refer to First Nations Australians. We do not intend entering into it here and will use the terms interchangeably throughout the chapter. 2 This organisation is a national company which provides safe and reliable onsite and offsite support services to a range of businesses across Australia, particularly those operating in the coal, metals, minerals and steel industries. We use the pseudonym The Company when discussing this organisation. 3 This Department no longer exists having undergone several name changes until its split into the Department for Child Protection and Department for Communities in 2007. 4 For more information concerning CfC the Government has a website detailing the initiative, the structure, locations and projects funded and its evaluation. http://www.facs.gov.au/internet/facsinternet/nsf/aboutfacs/programs/sfsc-cfc 5 The theoretical debates about power do not form part of this discussion, even though they are acknowledged. Here power is taken from the BSL framework and relates to the degree to which people at the centre of the programmes and policies discussed have the opportunity to take some measure of control over how these aspects affect them.

108 Emergent Drivers for Building and Sustaining Capacity 6 Although, the decision has just been made to continue funding for some of these sites. 7 The NTER was a federal government programme initiated following the release of a report into child sexual abuse in Indigenous communities in the Northern Territory in 2007, intended to address child sexual abuse through prohibition of alcohol, pornography and the provision of health checks and other resources. 8 The Referendum of 1967, in which Australians agreed that Indigenous people should henceforth be counted in the Census and that the words ‘other than the aboriginal race’ be deleted from federal powers, had several consequences, not least that the federal government assumed an authority over provision of resources to Indigenous communities which had henceforth been roles for which the states had responsibility. Permission for the return of Indigenous people to their traditional lands was an outcome even though resourcing did not meet even the most basic of needs. 9 The Gordon Inquiry in Western Australia was commissioned by the state government to enquire into violence against women and children following the suicide of a teenage girl in an Indigenous community in 2001. The government responded to the findings of inadequate government agency service provision and coordination by allocating, amongst others, dedicated child protection workers to be co-located with police in remote communities. 10 Prominent Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australians led by Patrick Dodson and Lieutenant General John Sanderson formed what they titled an Australian Dialogue in 2008 to provide the groundwork for developing a philosophical foundation for incorporating Indigenous knowledge and participation in policy and practice by government. 11 This is a much-quoted statement, but no-one really is certain of its original reference location. Stringer, E. T. (1999) Action Research, p. 193. Thousand Oaks: Sage. 12 The features of Rogan’s processes for successful capacity building are highlighted in bold. We have taken some liberty with the order and descriptions.

References Altman, J. (2000) The Economic Status of Indigenous Australians, Discussion Paper No. 193 Canberra, Centre for Aboriginal Economic Policy Research, The Australian National University. Antonios, Z. (1997) The CDEP Scheme and Racial Discrimination. A Report by the Race Discrimination Commissioner, December 1997. Canberra, Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission. Banks, A. (2009) ‘Barnett backs down on gas hub land grab threat’, The West Australian. Perth: 4. Baum, F., C. Palmer, C. Modra, C. Murray and R. Bush. (2000) ‘Families, social capital and health’, Social Capital and Public Policy in Australia, pp. 250–275. I. Winter (ed.). Melbourne: Australian Institute of Family Studies. Benjamin, J., J. Bessant and R. Watts (1997) Making Groups Work. St Leonards, NSW: Allen & Unwin.

Jill Abdullah and Susan Young 109 Black, A. and P. Hughes (2001) ‘The identification and analysis of indicators of community strength and outcomes’, Canberra: Department of Family and Community Services, 1–112. Brough, M., C. Bond, J. Hunt, D. Jenkins, C. Shannon and L. Schubert (2006) ‘Social capital meets identity. Aboriginality in an urban setting’, Journal of Sociology, 42(4): 396–411. Chesterman, J. and B. Galligan (1997) Citizens Without Rights: Aborigines and Australian Citizenship. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Coleman, J. S. (1988) ‘Social capital in the creation of human capital’, The American Journal of Sociology, 94 (Supplement: Organizations and Institutions: Sociological and Economic Approaches to the Analysis of Social Structure): S95–S120. Cox, E. (1995) A Truly Civil Society. Sydney: ABC Books. Crough, G. and C. Christophersen (1993) Aboriginal People in the Economy of the Kimberley Region. Darwin: Australian National University, North Australia Research Unit. Cummins, R., I. Gentle and C. Hull (2008) ‘Community: Aboriginal Australian perspectives’, in J. Taylor, D. Wilkinson and B. Cheers, Working with Communities in Health and Human Services. South Melbourne: Oxford University Press, pp. 43–60. Fullera, D., J Buultjens and E. Cummings (2005) ‘Ecotourism and indigenous micro-enterprise formation in northern Australia opportunities and constraints’, Tourism Management, 26: 891–904. Gordon, S., K. Hallahan and D. Henry (2002) Putting the Picture Together: Inquiry into Responses by Government Agencies to Complaints of Family Violence and Child Abuse in Aboriginal Communities. Perth: Department of Premier and Cabinet, p. 664. Heywood, L. (2005) ‘Aboriginal settlements not viable: Vanstone’, The Courier Mail, Brisbane: 11. Hunt, J. and D. Smith (2007) Indigenous Community Governance Project: Year 2 Research Findings, Working paper no. 36/2007. Canberra, Centre for Aboriginal Policy Research, Australian National University. Jewell, T. (2009) Martu Tjitji Pakani: Martu Child Rearing and Its Implications for the Child Welfare System, Unpublished PhD Thesis, Social Work and Social Policy. Perth: University of Western Australia. Lee, J. A. (1994). The Empowerment Approach to Social Work Practice. New York: Columbia University Press. Liffman, M. (1978) Power for the Poor: The Family Centre Project – An Experiment in Self-Help. Sydney: George Allen & Unwin. Lynn, R., R. Thorpe, D. Miles, with C. Cutts, A. Butcher and L. Ford. (1998) ‘Murri Way!’ – Aborigines and Torres Strait Islanders Reconstruct Social Welfare Practice: Report on Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Helping Styles in Social Welfare Practice in North Queensland. Townsville: Centre for Social Research, James Cook University. Maddison, S. (2009) Black Politics. Inside the Complexity of Aboriginal Political Culture. Crows Nest, NSW: Allen & Unwin. Mendes, P. (2007) ‘Social workers and social activism in Victoria, Australia’, Journal of Progressive Human Services, 18(1): 25–44. Nelson, R. (2007) ‘Social cohesion and cultural fragility: A paradox of Indigenous rapports with Eurasian Australia’, in J. Jupp, J. Nieuwenhuysen and W. E. Dawson,

110 Emergent Drivers for Building and Sustaining Capacity Social Cohesion in Australia. Port Melbourne: Cambridge University Press, pp. 103–113. Ngaanyatjarra Media (2007) Ngaanyatjarra Turlku. Australia: Ngaanyatjarra Media: 34 mins. O’Faircheallaigh, C. (2006) ‘Aborigines, mining companies and the state in contemporary Australia: A new political economy or “business as usual”?’, Australian Journal of Political Science, 41(1): 1–22. Peters-Little, F. (2000) The community game: Aboriginal self definition at the local level. Research Discussion Paper No. 10. Canberra, Australian Institute for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies. Preston-Shoot, M. (1995) ‘Assessing anti-oppressive practice’, Social Work Education, 14(2): 11–29. Putnam, R. (1993) Making Democracy Work: Civic Traditions in Modern Italy. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Rogan, L. (2002) Community capacity building – What can it offer Australians who are disadvantaged and excluded? Paper presented to DCD workers, 22nd August. Ross, D. (2007) ‘Permits protect’, in J. Altman and M. Hinkson, Coercive Reconciliation. Stabilise, Normalise, Exit Aboriginal Australia. North Carlton: Arena Publications Association, pp. 239–247. Saleebey, D. (1992) The Strengths Perspective in Social Work Practice. New York: Longman. Sanders, W. (1998) ‘Citizenship and the community development employment projects scheme: Equal rights, difference and appropriateness’, in N. Peterson and W. Sanders, Citizenship and Indigenous Australians. Changing Conceptions and Possibilities. Melbourne: Cambridge University Press, pp. 141–153. Sanderson, J. (2009) Rights and Sustainability: Negotiating a New Social Framework for the Australian Landscape in the Age of Information. Vice-Chancellor’s Oration. Curtin University of Technology. Scougall, J. (2008a) Evaluation of the Stronger Families and Communities Strategy 2000–2004. Hervey Bay Indigenous Community Leadership Training Project. Melbourne: RMIT University Circle. Scougall, J. (2008b) Evaluation of the Stronger Families and Communities Strategy 2000–2004. Mandurah Targeted Region. Melbourne: RMIT University Circle. Scougall, J. (2008c) Evaluation of the Stronger Families and Communities Strategy 2000–2004. Potential Leaders in Local Communities Initiative. Melbourne: RMIT University Circle. Scougall, J. (2008d) Lessons Learnt about Strengthening Indigenous Families and Communities. Stronger Families and Communities Strategy 2000–2004. Melbourne: RMIT University Circle. Storry, K. (2007) ‘What is working in good schools in remote indigenous communities?’, Issue Analysis, Centre for Independent Studies, 86(4th April): 1–20. Stringer, E. T. (1999) Action Research. Thousand Oaks: Sage. Taylor, J. (2007) ‘Demography is destiny, except in the Northern Territory’, in J. Altman and M. Hinkson, Coercive Reconciliation. Stabilise, Normalise, Exit Aboriginal Australia. North Carlton: Arena Publications Association, pp. 173–183. The Age (2006) ‘Hellholes demand actions live up to the talk’, The Age, Melbourne: 10. Thorpe, R. (2002) ‘What works? Evidence based practice in child and family services’, ACWA 2002 Conference.

Jill Abdullah and Susan Young 111 Wakelin, B. (2004) Many Ways Forward. Report of the Inquiry into Capacity Building and Service Delivery in Indigenous Communities. Canberra, House of Representatives Standing Committee on Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Affairs, Commonwealth of Australia. Woolcock, M. and D. Narayan (2000) ‘Social capital: Implications for development theory, research and policy’, World Bank Research Observations, 15(2): 225–249. Young, S. (2003) ‘The paradoxes of exclusion and blame: Whiteness, welfare and the politics of denial’, in B. Wadham, Placing Race. Adelaide: Flinders University Press, pp. 42–55.

6 Re-imagining Capacity Building When Participation is Constrained: Illegal Burmese Migrants in Thailand Matthew Clarke Introduction The rhetoric of capacity building is now prevalent within all levels of development – from international financial institutions and multilateral organisations to local government authorities to non-governmental organisations and local community-based organisations (see Cornwall, 2007). Capacity building is now regarded as a central tenet of sustaining the impact of development interventions over the longer term. The premise of capacity building is based upon expanding community participation and enhancing local skills and expertise in areas of perceived deficit. However, in spite of its inherent strengths, capacity building may not be a possible (or optimal) outcome in all circumstances due to constraints on community participation in certain circumstances. The notion of capacity building is of particular interest to those seeking to improve the lives of the disadvantaged for it bolsters the primary assumption that external agents are necessary in affecting change. It is further attractive to policy-makers and project planners as it extends the notion of community ownership and participation which itself has come to underpin ‘best practice’ within development. Building capacity of local communities infers a transfer of skills and responsibilities away from project managers to the community itself in those areas in which there is some shortfall or gap. The importance of community participation and ownership of development interventions was foreseen by Korten (1990) in his four typologies of non-governmental organisations (NGOs). Within Korten’s stylised typologies, the continuum of (northern) NGO practice begins with the provision of relief and welfare services, progresses to the delivery of community development, moves from that to sustainable systems of 112

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development and then finally to become a people’s movement. The implicit assumption within this continuum is that community participation increases throughout this progression and this is inherently right and proper. Community participation within development interventions has now become widely accepted as the minimum requirement for successful and sustained development outcomes (see Chambers, 2005). Building the capacity of local communities so they can take an active (as compared to passive acceptance) involvement in all stages of community development, including needs analysis, project identification and design, implementation, monitoring and evaluation, is considered necessary for the impact of any particular intervention to be sustained (Uphoff et al., 1998; Dale, 2004). Sustaining the impact of a community development intervention is therefore more likely to be achieved, experience indicates, if the beneficiaries, local community and other key stakeholders have actively participated in and ‘own’ the intervention. There are a number of reasons for this. Firstly, inclusion of those directly affected group in the planning stages will more likely ensure that the right development needs and their causes are identified. Secondly, the responses planned will better take into account local resources and strengths of the local communities that will ensure that there is less reliance on external inputs. Finally, community participation will also aid in the ongoing management of the project as the decision-making processes will have been developed in the initial stages to include the relevant local beneficiaries and key stakeholders, which will continue once the external funding has ceased. Such participation though must require communities to display certain skills and technical expertise in a range of areas. Capacity building is required if there is a shortage of these skills and expertise. The logic of this approach to capacity building is reasonable and intuitively sound. Moreover, it is inherently self-supporting as building the capacity of local communities begets further skills enhancement. Capacity building can therefore be understood as the inevitable and logical conclusion of community participation. Citizens whose capacity has been increased can become a powerful driver of development by holding to popular account those that traditionally hold decisionmaking power at the local and national levels. However, as with participation (see Clarke, 2009), the concept of capacity building has itself become fetishised to some degree, in so much that its importance is considered paramount in all development interventions. A strong argument can be made that capacity building is now assumed to be optimal

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in all circumstances. Yet inspite of its inherent strengths, building the capacity of local communities by non-governmental organisations or other external agents of change may not be possible (or appealing) in all circumstances. This chapter is less interested in the debate of capacity building (deficit model) versus capacity development (asset model) (see Eade, 2003; UNDP, 2008 as examples), which is discussed in other places in this volume, rather, it is interested in the prevailing assumption implicit in the approach to enhancing capacity overall that this endeavour is in fact appropriate in all situations. This chapter argues for the realistic expectation of capacity building (and indeed participation) of one specific sub-population within Thailand – illegal Burmese migrants. It introduces a new role for NGOs and external change agents to assume when working within the constrained environments that these illegal migrants find themselves in, which is most notably the inability to initiate the first step of community participation because of their illegal status. The new role that NGOs must play is that of advocate-guardians. Within this approach, NGOs must assume a new role on behalf of the community in question within which they simultaneously provide development interventions and advocate on their behalf rather than seeking to build their capacity. Building capacity in these communities actually endangers the lives of community members and is therefore an inappropriate expectation or requirement. This chapter therefore discusses whether capacity building should always be a goal for community development practitioners. While the chapter specifically addresses the constraints faced by illegal Burmese migrants within Thailand and calls for capacity building to be re-imagined in this constrained environment, it is feasible that a similar analysis could also be applied to illegal migrants in European countries or those from Afghanistan or Pakistan residing in Indonesia or other ‘staging’ posts before seeking asylum in countries such as Australia. This paper is set out as follows: the next section discusses the circumstances faced by illegal Burmese migrants residing in Thailand, before the difficulties faced within communities to achieve participation let alone seek to build capacity are highlighted. The notion of NGOs abandoning the desire for capacity building in these environments is introduced and an argument of a new identity of advocate-guardian on behalf of the illegal Burmese migrants is presented. The paper is then concluded.

Living illegally in Thailand Illegal Burmese migrant communities face very real constraints that act against active involvement or participation in normal community

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development interventions. Without an ability to participate, the notion of building capacity becomes less tenable, irrespective of it being a strengths or deficits approach to enhancing capacity. Encouraging participation in these constrained environments is problematic for a number of reasons, not least of all are the illegal nature of the migrants and their high levels of mobility. Such constraints are multiplied when moving from encouraging local participation to building local capacity. While illegal Burmese migrants who are registered to work have limited recourse to some protection under the law in theory, in practice, they are largely at the mercy of the local Thai authorities, including the Thai army and immigration police. Burmese migrants are routinely arrested en-masse and deported back to Burma.1 While their presence may be overlooked by Thai authorities for economic reasons (indeed in Mae Sot for example, illegal Burmese outnumber Thai citizens and the local economy depends on the Burmese migrants for its growth and strength), any semblance of civil disobedience or community organisation results in arrest and harassment (see Table 6.1 for discussion of the types of abuse experienced in Mae Sot). Illegal Burmese migrants therefore do not aspire to be active participants in standard capacity building activities as they are not equipped with the supporting legal and political mechanisms required to assume such a role. For this population, pressure to assume such a role would be harmful and result in detrimental outcomes. Community participation itself must also be managed differently to other ‘legal’ populations (Clarke, 2009). This necessarily means that development interventions undertaken to improve the lives of illegal migrants cannot fully ‘give-over’ Table 6.1

Types of Abuse Encountered by Illegal Burmese Migrants in Mae Sot

Type of Abuse

Percentage

Threatened Yelled at Cheated or had money stolen Sworn at Locked up or confined Tricked or lied to Punished Touched inappropriately Sexually touched Pushed Pinched

31.1 21.3 9.8 7.3 2.8 0.7 2.8 2.8 2.4 1.0 0.3

(Number of respondents

286)

Source: Adapted from Panam (2004).

116 Re-imagining Capacity Building When Participation is Constrained

decision-making power to the intended beneficiaries as this will attract unwanted attention by the local authorities and threaten the very safety of those supposedly being assisted. Thai authorities in locations of high numbers of illegal Burmese migrants must project a vision that illegal migrants do not exist, or if they do exist, they will do so only for a short period. (This is despite some communities having been in existence for a number of decades). Thai authorities are unable to allow any activities to continue that would undermine this illusion. By the same token, illegal Burmese migrants are also themselves aware of this pantomime and understand the role that they must play in order to maintain a ‘peaceful’ status quo. There is therefore little demand by illegal Burmese migrants for greater control and participation in local development initiatives, as this would endanger their current situation. NGOs must therefore respect the positions of both the Thai authorities and illegal Burmese migrants in this regard and facilitate ongoing welfare-oriented development interventions. Therefore, working with illegal Burmese migrants is complicated. However, the needs of these communities demand that they be given prominence when NGOs are facilitating community development activities in these border towns. One such NGO2 has been working within these communities for fifteen years in four major locations: Mae Sot, Mae Sai, Ranong and the fishing port town of Phuket. During this time, this NGO has undertaken a range of community development interventions but with a primary focus on health care and prevention. The following discussion is based on a meta-evaluation of fifteen years of work by this NGO undertaken by the author. Exact data on how many illegal Burmese migrants live in Thailand are difficult to obtain. Estimates vary from between 800,000 to 1.5 million (AMC, 2002) but it is commonly thought that they number no less than one million people (Thailand’s population is approximately sixty-five million).3 It is difficult to formulate exact data because different Thai authorities use different data upon which they base their estimates. For example, estimates of migrants can differ by a factor of four between the Labour Ministry (based on registrations and employer surveys) and the Health Ministry (based on hospital treatments) (Urbano, 2006). This is also further exacerbated as the status of Burmese workers in Thailand is also fluid. Over time both the policies towards illegal migrants and the enforcement of these policies has changed and they are often interpreted differently depending on local authorities (Urbano, 2006). More recently, the Thai Government reviewed the status of migrant workers with a 2003 Memorandum of Understanding with the Burmese Government, in

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which migrant workers were to be protected by certain conditions including minimum wages, eight-hour working shifts and national holidays (Belton, 2005). This is reviewed annually through Cabinet Resolutions. Whilst still considered ‘illegal’, registered workers are permitted to work.4 Thailand is a relatively affluent country compared to its near neighbours and is seen as an attractive destination for many within the Greater Mekong region.5 Seeking to improve their economic circumstances (and in some instance also flee political persecution) the vast majority of migrants within Thailand are Burmese. Indeed, it is rare for Burmese migrants to move beyond Thailand or the Greater Mekong region (ILO, 2001; ARCM, 2004). In considering the large number of illegal migrants, it is important to note that migration from Burma to Thailand is also not onerous. The shared border is over 2400 kilometres long and runs through ten Thai provinces. This border is generally not patrolled or policed in any effective manner. Many ethnic groups have traditionally ‘lived’ across the border and continue to move between Thai and Burmese villages without consciously ‘migrating’. At different times, the border between Thailand and Myanmar is a waterway or simply a nominal line of demarcation that passes through jungle and across mountain ranges. While there are four ‘official’ border-crossing points (at the Thai and Burmese towns respectively of: Myawaddy and Mae Sot, Kawthaung and Ranong, Tachelik and Mae Sai, and the Three Pagodas Pass between Ye and Kanchanaburi), there are also over 300 unofficial land and sea crossing points (AMC, 2002). Many of these unofficial crossing points are in eyesight of the official crossing points and it is not uncommon, for instance, to witness both Thais and Burmese wading knee deep across the river that gently runs under the Thai-Burma Friendship Bridge between Myawaddy and Mae Sot. Therefore, for many, crossing the border is more akin to moving from one town into another rather than crossing an international border. For example, it is common for Burmese to cross into Thailand on a daily basis (with or without a day pass) for employment, shopping or accessing health care.6 It is also common to see Thai traders buying and selling produce on the Burmese side of the border. Indeed, Thai currency is commonly used in the Burma border townships. For the majority though, the decision to move to Thailand is done so with the expressed purpose of improving living conditions. While the employment conditions for migrant workers (whether they be fishermen, construction workers, factory workers, day labourers) are difficult, close to ninety percent self-report that they are not exploited in migrating

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to Thailand (ARCM, 2004). Indeed, migration was normally organised by friends, family or the migrant themselves and did not involve a third party or ‘trafficking’ syndicate (ILO-IPEC, 2001; Urbano, 2006). So whilst the migrants have actively sought to relocate to Thailand, this capacity to seek improved living conditions is actually not to their advantage in the circumstances of being an illegal migrant – whereby ‘invisibility’ becomes an advantage for survival. Over a period of forty years in which the political, social and economic conditions have worsened in Burma, there has been a corresponding improvement in all facets of life within Thailand as a result of the extraordinary levels of economic growth (notwithstanding both the 1997 Asian Financial Crisis and 2009 Global Financial Crisis) over the past number of decades (World Bank, 2008 – see Table 6.2). This economic growth has occurred in all sectors and caused a greater demand for both skilled and unskilled labour. As the Thai economy has developed, there has been an observed aversion to some jobs (coined the three ‘Ds’ – dangerous, dirty and disdained) (Physicians for Human Rights, 2004). The economic circumstances in Burma are such that there is always a supply of cheap labour willing to undertake this work. Whilst risky and illegal, many Burmese have sought to relocate to Thailand (either Table 6.2

Comparison of Key Indices Between Thailand and Burma Burma

Thailand

Population (million)

50

65

GDP (PPP$)

258

2440

GDP composition by sector (%)

Agriculture 42

Manufacturing 17

Services 41

Agriculture 11

Manufacturing 40

Services 49

56.2 (males)

61.8 (females)

66.0 (males)

72.7 (females)

Under 5 Child Mortality (per 1000 live births)

109

28

Infant Mortality (per 1000 live births)

77

24

Total per capita expenditure on health (PPP$)

26

254

Adult literacy (%)

85

96

Girls in primary school (%)

49

97

Life Expectancy at birth (years)

Source: World Bank (2008).

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temporarily or permanently) in order to escape the turmoil occurring in their own country and take advantage of the relative prosperity available in Thailand. Certainly economic reasons underpinned migrants’ decisions to travel to Thailand, with migrants most commonly citing the poor employment opportunities and poverty in Burma compared to the situation in Thailand. Certain sections of the Thai economy, particularly those industries located in border regions, are now heavily dependent upon migrant Burmese communities for labour. ‘The ILO observes that labour intensive industrialisation has been integral to Thailand’s growth, and that the influx of migrant workers has enabled Thailand to maintain a labour force to support its economic development. Conveniently, Burma is a plentiful source of cheap, pliant labour for Thai industry’ (Urbano, 2006:22). Migrant labour, both registered and unregistered, plays a role (more significant in Mae Sot than Phuket though, for instance) in ensuring economic growth occurs. Given the main driving force for migration is the poor economic performance in Burma, should a newly democratic Burma occur in the near future, bringing with it new investment and rapid economic growth, it is possible that migration to Thailand will not only halt, but also reverse as Burmese migrants return home. Illegal migrant populations differ widely in their characteristics throughout Thailand (ARCM, 2004). Different localities have distinct populations and these difference must be considered when working with local communities of illegal Burmese migrants. In Mae Sot the majority of migrants are ethnic Burmese, whilst the majority in Ranong are Dawei peoples. Ranong has the largest number of migrants without registration whereas Mae Sot has the larger number of migrants with registration. Interestingly, there are also differences in the support groups in the different sites. For example, Mae Sot has the largest number of migrants who migrated without any support networks, and Ranong has the largest number of migrants who travelled with family members. The majority of migrants working in Ranong have worked in other areas previously, compared to the situation in Mae Sot, which is the first destination in Thailand reached by these migrant workers. The majority of migrant workers in Ranong work in the fishing industry, compared to the largest occupation in Mae Sot being factory work. Interestingly, the ratio of illegal Burmese migrants to their host population also differs markedly between towns. For example, in Mae Sot, illegal Burmese migrants outnumber Thais by a ratio of three to one, whereas in Phuket, Thais outnumber Burmese four to one (with the population being relatively equal in Ranong). One characteristic that is common amongst all

120 Re-imagining Capacity Building When Participation is Constrained

these communities is the relatively young age of these members, with the majority being aged between nineteen and twenty-five years of age (ARCM, 2004).

Difficulties of participation in constrained environments A precursor to building the capacity of local communities is the ability to first actually engage them in the ‘act’ of development and have them participate. Certainly a key driving force in achieving sustainable development outcomes at both the local and national level is that of community participation. This is because a commitment to sustainability based on open and inclusive participatory processes is more likely to lead to more positive long-term results and a more robust development interventions. Considerable resources have been expended on developing tools and techniques that facilitate participation over the past three decades. A number of common participatory techniques exist, including Rapid Rural Appraisal (RRA), Participatory Research Action (PRA) and Participatory Learning and Action (PLA). Underpinning these approaches is a basic tenet that the community are experts of their own circumstances and they are the holders of the knowledge required to resolve issues and problems currently being experienced (Dale, 2004). Whilst it is accepted that external funds, technical expertise and the need to facilitate the sharing of community knowledge is also required, the paradigm within these techniques calls for communities to be acknowledged as the primary holders of information and skills (Chambers, 2005). ‘Participation’ has therefore become a talisman within development practice. Such is the extent of the participation fetish, that all international financial institutions, multilateral agencies, national governments and NGOs have, by and large, incorporated the term ‘participation’ into their development jargon over a long period (see Chambers, 1983; Stiglitz, 1999; Craig and Porter, 1997; Sihlongonyane, 2003; Bourguignon et al., 2007). If the rhetoric is transformed into practice, this means that community members are actively encouraged to identify their own needs, design the response, implement the project activities and also monitor it and evaluate its progress. The processes that are used differ between institutional types as well as between institutions themselves, but a common approach is the establishment of Project Community Management Committees (PCMC). Such a committee holds the decisionmaking power and is inclusive of the local beneficiaries, key stakeholders and local partners. When (perceived) deficits exist within communities

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to achieve these goals, it is important that capacity be built – primarily through interventions or training ‘done by’ external agents and ‘done to’ local communities (see Potter and Brough, 2004 and Craig, 2007 for fuller discussion of these approaches). Participation is not automatic, nor can it be assumed without developing relationships over time with key stakeholder groups. Achieving active participation7 requires a conscious effort. Relationships must be built with beneficiaries, other NGOs or community-based organisations and associations, local religious groups and depending on the intervention itself, on local support networks (i.e. it is common with HIV/AIDS prevention and care interventions to include hairdressers and taxi drivers as these are respectively ‘natural’ support networks for commercial sex workers and their clients) (Clarke, 2002). For full participation to occur it is necessary that all these (often disparate) groups are included at the very initial stages of the project planning process, including the needs analysis and project identification. By actively engaging these stakeholders at this phase, the ‘power’ or initiative is clearly given over to the local community. This is a very powerful statement of intent and indicates to local communities that there is a real recognition of their own expertise and ability to address current and future problems. By handing over the decision-making power to the local community the traditional ‘passive’ position of the community can no longer be sustained and they must actively participate or the intervention will fail. This responsibility is therefore an impetus for action (Zivets, 2003). As will be discussed though, the assumption of the appropriateness of this transfer of responsibility is very important, particularly when the communities in question reside in very constrained circumstances. Regardless of whether communities live in constrained environments or not, achieving such participation can be onerous. The reasons for this difficulty in participating are directly linked to the status as ‘poor’. Day to day survival for those that are extremely poor requires enormously hard work (see Easterly, 2002 and Yunnis, 2003 for numerous vignettes describing the long days and hard work undertaken by poor women and men to earn sufficient income to barely feed, cloth and provide shelter for their families). Participation (and ownership) requires a commitment of time and effort that the extreme poor are unlikely to have the ability to give. Participation often requires long discussions, travel to and from meetings and assisting with building or delivering interventions during the implementation phase. If the poor are working long hours, they will be unable to contribute greatly to such interventions and therefore their

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participation can be quite marginal. Certainly, their desire to participate may be quite low if their immediate goal is simply survival. Having the poor participate in community development intervention therefore requires NGO staff to purposely seek them out and find ways to accommodate their particular circumstances. Such accommodation need not be complicated, but may in fact be predicated on a simple acknowledgement of their poverty of time as well as their economic poverty. Therefore, it may be necessary for meetings of stakeholders to be held where the poor naturally congregate – either at their own homes or at local community venues – so that the distance the poor need to travel is reduced. PCMC meetings may have to be timed in such a way that takes account of the commitments of the poorer members of the community. If there are peak periods of work (such as harvest time), it may be better to postpone PCMCs or plan them for more convenient times. Finally, it may also be necessary to compensate poor community members for their time in participating. This is contentious, but the provision of food and a small per diem to pay for transport costs or lost earnings may be necessary to ensure participation of all representatives of the community. But as this chapter argues, it may also be necessary for NGOs to understand that participation is not possible and invisibility is a safer option for certain communities. In this regard, the difficulties discussed above are simply multiplied when the overriding characteristic of the poor in question is their illegal migrant status. Issues of time, personal freedom of movement and ability to work cooperatively that are necessary to participate effectively likewise diminish the ability to remain invisible to authorities. Official invisibility is necessary for illegal migrants to ensure personal safety and to avoid harassment and deportation. As such, participation is a risk behaviour for those without legal status. Illegal Burmese migrants therefore do not automatically benefit from participation and certainly do not benefit from capacity building initiatives as might be expected in other communities with similar circumstances. More importantly, nor should they be ‘forced’ to build their capacity by dent of the current norms and conventions of community development practice. If participation is considered ‘best practice’ within community development, so too must contextualisation in planning and design of interventions. In this instance the vulnerability of these illegal Burmese migrants communities must be given precedence and expectations of participation and active citizenship lessened.

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Advocate-guardians instead of capacity building Given the above circumstances, local NGOs working with such communities are presented with an opportunity to further redefine who they are and how they can best assist these communities achieve improved development outcomes in terms of eschewing such ingrained best practice ideals of participation and capacity building. It is necessary therefore that NGOs working with these communities be prepared to fund and sustain welfare-orientated interventions for the long-term when faced with the constrained environments experienced by illegal Burmese migrant communities. While this may be seen as undesirable and nonconforming to current best practice, it is appropriate that NGOs be willing to consider the circumstances and context of the community they are working with and recognise the very real constraints that illegal migrants have in a host country. Such illegal migrants are unable to be anything other than ‘invisible’ to local authorities or risk repatriation and harassment. Whilst these illegal migrants are very mobile in a general sense, with a large proportion of their settlements moving frequently and therefore making a sense of community difficult, they are also in a very real sense highly immobile with restrictions of travel placed upon them. In order to maintain a level of ‘invisibility’, illegal migrants are limited to those places they can live and work unencumbered by constant surveillance. Generally these areas are the immediate workplace and the accommodation that is generally adjacent (or co-located) to these workplaces. For examples, those working in the fishing industry work and live on the boats or the fishing canneries adjacent to the ports, whiles those in the gem trade or other manufacturing industries live on the factory site, whilst those engaged in construction also generally reside on-site. These migrants are unable to freely move around the wider town or province and so accessing health care for example is difficult. NGOs must provide mobile clinics that therefore visit different locations on a regular basis. But the idea that the local illegal Burmese migrant community themselves organise and fund such a mobile clinic is not possible because of the spectre of ‘permanency’ to which this would give rise. Returning to Korten’s (1990) four typologies, this welfare-orientation does not necessarily directly reflect the first generation of NGO activities described. It is not accurate to simply characterise these interventions undertaken as relief and welfare activities. More accurately, local NGOs operating within this particular constrained environment must themselves assume the role of proxy active citizens on behalf of those who must remain invisible. In this particular instance, the local NGO

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must assume the responsibilities of the local community in advocating on their behalf at both the local, regional and national level. As the illegal Burmese migrants are unable to give voice to their needs, the local NGO must be their voice for them. This role is also different to de Senillosa’s (1998) typology of NGO as ‘domestic change agents’. For local NGOs working with illegal Burmese migrants, it is necessary that they assume a dual role of delivery provider and community representatives. This dual role gives rise therefore to a new identity, that of advocateguardian. NGOs must therefore take on a different role from that which they are used to. As advocates they represent the community in different forums and provide a voice that would normally not be heard. As guardians they must also provide for the basic needs and services these communities cannot access under the normal circumstances. Whilst it might appear to resemble Korten’s (1990) initial relief and welfare typology, such a likeness is quite superficial. In addition to providing material services, including access to basic health and education, NGOs in their role as advocate-guardians also advocate on behalf of the community and seek long-term solutions to their difficulties. This second role, and the understanding of it, was excluded within Korten’s original typology. Such a dual role can cause tensions for local NGOs as it must simultaneously deliver interventions without raising the ire of local authorities and directly discuss the circumstances of the communities with the Thai authorities. This is complicated further by having to maintain trust within cautious communities who fear harassment and deportation from local communities. However, over time, it is expected that the advocate-guardian role will improve both the immediate circumstances of the communities but also make more secure their status as migrants. It is not difficult to identify the many additional constraints faced by NGOs or external change agents working with illegal Burmese migrants compared to working with their poor Thai host communities (see Table 6.3). Firstly, all Burmese migrants are illegal whether they are registered to work or not. Those who are unregistered to work have no formal protection under law, lack access to education and health services and are regularly exploited by employers and landlords. They can also be arrested and deported without any recourse at any time. Secondly, given this precarious existence, mobility amongst these communities is also very high. It is estimated by NGO staff that fifty percent of migrants in Mae Sot move each year to avoid debt, police harassment or to seek improved employment opportunities.8 Thirdly, not all Burmese migrants are Burman. Numerous ethnic minorities from Burma exist within these communities.

Matthew Clarke 125 Table 6.3

Constraints of Working with Illegal Burmese Migrant Communities

Constraint

Description

Difficulty accessing community members

Burmese community members often live at their workplace and have limited free time. Fishermen for example work throughout the night and have only a few hours on-shore in the mid-morning to mid-afternoon, factory workers are on-call other than one or two days per month and must therefore remain on the factory premises, commercial sex workers must be available to clients at all times and construction workers generally work twelve hours a day with one half a day off each week. Those not working – perhaps mothers or the elderly – do not have the ability to move outside of their community for fear of harassment.

Harassment

Migrants are subject to harassment by Thai authorities on both regular and irregular basis. Crack downs are unpredictable and depending on the location, Thai authorities have been accused of soliciting bribes and other payments from migrants under threat of deportation. (Migrants with permits also report harassment by Thai authorities). Burmese migrants are wary of working with those outside of their immediate communities as they are nervous of inviting potential harassment. Likewise, host Thai communities or Thai brothel or Thai factory owners are wary of working with NGOs due to perceptions of potential conflict and harassment from Thai authorities that doing so might cause.

Mobility

Burmese migrants are mobile. For example, it is estimated that up to fifty percent of migrants move each year to avoid debt, harassment or seek improved employment opportunities elsewhere.

Developing trust with migrant Burmese communities

Given the precarious nature of the migrants and the inherent likelihood of arrest and deportation, there is a natural hesitation and suspicion of individuals and organisations seeking to assist them. Past experiences of spies (representing both Thai and Burmese authorities) and raids have resulted in communities being wary of trusting ‘outsiders’.

126 Re-imagining Capacity Building When Participation is Constrained Table 6.3 Constraints of Working with Illegal Burmese Migrant Communities – continued Constraint

Description

Lack of freedom of movement

Due to the threat of arrest, unregistered migrants generally do not venture beyond their workplace or communities. But even registered migrants have restricted freedom and cannot travel throughout Thailand nor even drive a motorcycle.

Migrants suffer exploitation

Whilst nearly ninety percent of Burmese migrants do not claim they were exploited in their actual migration (i.e. trafficked), they do suffer exploitation in terms of their working conditions in terms of low pay, lack of holidays and poor occupational health and safety precautions within the workplace. Burmese migrants are routinely exploited by their employers and by the Thai and Burmese authorities. They have little recourse to the law even if they are formally registered. There have been a number of reported cases where Thai authorities have deported workers (register and unregistered) when they have taken industrial action against their employers (Urbano, 2006; ARCM, 2004).

Difficulty of staffing

The local NGO has found it difficult to employ certain Burmese staff, especially medical doctors.

Difficulty of attracting funding

The local NGO’s programmes have been implemented in an ad-hoc basis in reaction to funding opportunities rather than guided by a comprehensive multisectoral development plan. As a result, not all development needs of migrant Burmese communities are addressed.

Language difficulties

Working with Burmese requires the local NGO to work not only in Burmese, but also any number of ethnic languages. It is difficult to find appropriate staff that have these language skills.

Lack of government support

Illegal migrants are ineligible for any government services, including health and education. Thus, it is difficult for the local NGO to access any services or goods (such as ante-retroviral medications) for those Burmese in need.

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Thus, even though the information, education and communication materials prepared are done so in Burmese, there is a proportion of the target group unable to read these materials. It is also difficult to find suitable staff with the requisite language skills to be able to train and work with these different language groups. Fourthly, cooperation from local Thai authorities is required for organisations working with Burmese migrants. This tacit approval is necessary as working with those outside of the law, necessarily places the local NGO outside of the law as well. Without the support (or at least knowledge) of the Thai authorities, the local NGO would be unable to work effectively. This requires strong relationships and maintaining those relationships over time. Whilst some Burmese target groups live on-site at factories, etc, many live in nominally Thai communities. As with the Thai authorities, support is also required from the local Thai community leaders as they are also wary of activities being implemented within their communities that might attract police raids, etc. Finally, unlike development interventions aimed at improving the circumstances of the Thai population, there are few (if any) institutional linkages that can expand the benefits of these projects. As migrants cannot access health and education services, projects must therefore be selfsufficient, as they cannot leverage additional goods and services from various Thai ministries. However, whilst these constraints make capacity building a particularly difficult task, the rationale for undertaking capacity building within these constrained environments must also be questioned. As ‘outsiders’, illegal Burmese migrants are unable to participate in community development interventions in similar ways to their Thai neighbours. They are unable to move freely within their community. They are unable to advocate on their own behalf to local authorities. They are suspicious of and have difficulty communicating with the staff of the local NGO. Finally, they are wary of any activities that may bring them to the attention of local Thai authorities that may in turn result in harassment or deportation. Their residency in Thailand is largely dependant upon a high level of passivity and dependence on others – in effect they must remain ‘invisible’. Seeking to build capacity not only foils this desire to stay ‘under the radar’, but actually brings attention to communities of the local Thai authorities. However, having made that observation, success can be achieved within these communities in spite of the limited opportunities and ability for the illegal Burmese migrants to participant in a ‘traditional’ manner. These communities, despite their mobility, lack of personal freedom and constraints on self-organisation do have some strengths that aid local NGOs in achieving useful development outcomes.

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Change within these communities is possible. Despite the difficulties experienced by staff of the local NGO over time, there has been reported success in sustained behaviour change within certain sections of migrant Burmese communities around some risk behaviours associated with the transmission of HIV/AIDS for example. Thus, in spite of the difficult and trying circumstances, it is possible for projects to achieve their goals and outcomes if NGOs modify their normal practice. There should be no mistake that there exists great desire for improvement within migrant Burmese communities. The local NGO has been able to develop trusting relationships with the more permanent sections of the illegal Burmese migrant communities and the communities have responded with a great desire to improve their own situations. Rather than a sense of hopelessness and helplessness, there is a genuine enthusiasm within the communities for change and development. Their ability to self-organise though, renders them largely dependent upon the local NGO for support and assistance. There is certainly commitment of the local NGO staff to migrant Burmese communities. The local NGO Thai and Burmese staff have demonstrated their personal commitment to working with illegal Burmese migrant communities over a sustained period. There is also commitment of senior Thai public sector officials to migrant Burmese communities. It would not be possible for the local NGO to continue working with illegal Burmese migrant communities without the implicit support of senior Thai authorities. Over time, a number of officials have expressed their appreciation of the work undertaken by the local NGO and acknowledge that without their assistance, the migrant Burmese communities would be in much more difficult circumstances. However, success achieved by the local NGO in working with these communities and their strengths and weaknesses has a particular context that again highlights the importance of an informed approach rather than an automatic reflex response of ‘capacity building’. These circumstances include a very high reliance on personal relationships with key Thai public officials. Whilst the Thai authorities cannot provide material support to the local NGOs, work with illegal Burmese migrant communities, their implicit personal support is necessary to ensure that the NGO is not stymied in their efforts to work with these communities. Significant time is required to establish and nurture these relationships. Also, there is a level of interdependence between Thai employers and Burmese workers. In certain locations, the local economy is reliant on Burmese labour. Without the Burmese in Mae Sot, for instance, the local industry would significantly contract because of the lack of labour. In this regard, the

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Thai employers are just as dependent upon the Burmese as the Burmese are reliant upon them for employment. Recognition of this mutual dependence is low amongst both groups. Of course there are wider development needs than health. Whilst the local NGOs projects to date have largely centred on health needs (and more precisely HIV/AIDS), the development needs of illegal Burmese migrant communities is greater than this and includes, education, water and sanitation, income generation, etc. Whether success in these areas can be achieved given the low level of participation that is possible is yet to be tested. Finally, it is also important to note that there is a constant changing nature of illegal Burmese migrants. Over time, there has been a shift in the type and number of Burmese migrants. For example, in Phuket, migrants were traditionally single men working in the fishing industry. This has shifted so that there are now many migrants working in the construction industry and these migrants are often men and women living as families. This changes risk behaviour and development needs.

Conclusion Community participation and capacity building through enhancing local skills and knowledge are valuable tools in driving sustainable community development outcomes. Experience indicates that development interventions that are owned by beneficiaries and in which local beneficiaries and communities participate in identifying, planning, implementing and monitoring are more likely to have greater and longer-lasting impact than those interventions provided within a welfare and passive recipient model. Seeking to build local capacity is now so common within planned development interventions that it can be considered a development fetish. Pursuing a fetish can have negative consequences for third parties. Illegal Burmese migrant communities in Thailand provide such an example (other examples in which this might be relevant, but not discussed in this chapter, are illegal migrants residing in Burma or illegal Afghanistan and Pakistan migrants residing in Indonesia or other ‘staging posts’ before seeking asylum in Australia or other countries). Illegal Burmese communities have a very precarious existence within Thailand and whilst they have existed for many years, they are permeated by a lack of permanency and sense of insecurity. There is a high level of mobility, low level of trust, lack of personal freedom and fear of harassment from Thai authorities, as well as no protection from exploitation. Past experience indicates that Thai authorities respond by repatriation and harassment to self-help and self-organisation by illegal

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Burmese migrant communities. As illegal migrants, these communities cannot challenge those in authority. They must in short remain invisible non-citizens. Instead, NGOs must assume the new role of advocateguardian for these communities. Development interventions within these communities may require provision of services reminiscent of NGOs’ past provision of relief and welfare services. However, NGOs must also reinterpret their role so that not only are they providing interventions in a welfare paradigm, but are also acting as the community’s representative at the micro, meso and macro levels. The activity of local NGOs as advocateguardians is a new role that has developed out of fifteen years of working with illegal Burmese migrants within Thailand. While participation and active citizenship are powerful drivers of change, but those who are not citizens cannot be active in this sense and nor should they be expected to be. It is possible though that they can be aided by local NGOs committed to their wellbeing and willing to become their voice. Whilst this may not be sustainable or completely adequate, the context and circumstances of these communities do not allow alternatives that do not put at risk the safety of the community members.

Notes 1 Just as frequently they return back across the border to Thailand – often on the same day – and resume their illegal life as if the arrest and deportation was a simple distraction in their day-to-day lives. However, the risk of further arrest and harassment in Burma is very real. 2 Given the political nature of working with illegal populations and the potential consequences which might constrain working with other communities within Thailand, the identity of this Thai-based NGO will remain anonymous. 3 This excludes the political refugees that are currently located in the refugee camps located along the Thai-Burma border within Mae Sot province. Indeed, the ensuing discussion focuses on those illegal migrants who can be more accurately described as economic refugees than political refugees – acknowledging of course that the parlous economic static of Burma is directly linked to the long military dictatorship and the economic and political policies instigated by the dictatorship. 4 Registration itself is not without costs and the employers must themselves sponsor the migrants. In addition to fees for the permit (around 2000 THB), migrants must also purchase a photo card, health insurance and undergo a medical examination (totalling almost 3000 THB). 5 Fifty years ago, Thailand and Burma were at similar stages of development with similar per capita GDP levels. 6 It was reported to the author that some illegal Burmese migrants that are HIV+ do return to Burma on a regular basis to access ante-retroviral treat-

Matthew Clarke 131 ment that is provided by an international NGO in their home village in Dawei province and not available to them in Thailand. 7 The phrase ‘active participation’ is being used purposely to denote that participation must require greater incorporation of the community than simply attending ‘consultative community meetings’ at which they are spoken to rather than being part of a dialogue – Chambers (1983) speaks of a unconstrained dialogue with the poor. 8 Personal communication with local Thai-based NGO staff working in Mae Sot.

References Asian Migrant Centre (AMC) (2002) Migration Needs: Issues and Responses in the Greater Mekong Subregion. Hong Kong: Asian Migrant Centre. Asian Research Center for Migration (ARCM) (2004) Research Report on Migration and Deception of Migrant Workers in Thailand. Chulalongkorn University, Bangkok: Asian Research Center for Migration. Belton, S. (2005) Borders of Fertility: Unwanted Pregnancy and Fertility Management by Burmese Women in Thailand, Unpublished Doctoral Thesis. Melbourne: University of Melbourne. http://www.ilo.org/public/english/region/asro/bangkok/child/ trafficking/downloads/tia-1-revised-2004.pdf Bourguignon, F., Elkana, Y. and Pleskovic, B. (2007) Capacity Building in Economics, Education, and Research. Washington, DC: World Bank. Chambers, R. (1983) Rural Development: Putting the Last First. Harlow UK: Longman. Chambers, R. (2005) Ideas for Development. London: Earthscan. Clarke, M. (2002) ‘Achieving behaviour change: Three generations of HIV/AIDS programming and jargon in Thailand’, in Development in Practice, 12(5): 625–636. Clarke, M. (2009) ‘Over the border and under the radar: Should illegal migrants be active citizens?’, Development in Practice (special edition), 19(8): 1064–1078. Cornwall, A. (2007) ‘Buzzwords and fuzzwords: Deconstructing development discourse’, Development in Practice, 17(4–5): 471–484. Craig, G. (2007) ‘Community capacity building: Something old, something new …?’, Critical Social Policy, 27(3): 335–359. Craig, D. and Porter, D. (1997) ‘Framing participation: Development projects, professionals, and organizations’, Development in Practice, 7(3): 229–236. Dale, R. (2004) Development Planning. London: Zed Books. De Senillosa, I. (1998) ‘A new age of social movements: A fifth generation of non-governmental organisations in the making’, Development in Practice, 8(1): 40–52. Eade, D. (ed.) (2003) Development, NGOs and Civil Society. Oxford: Oxfam. Easterly, W. (2002) Elusive Quest for Growth. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. International Labour Office (ILO) (2001) Labour Migration and Trafficking Within the Greater Mekong Sub-region: Proceedings of Mekong sub-regional experts meeting and exploratory policy paper. Geneva: ILO. International Labour Office (ILO) and International Programme for the Elimination of Child Labour (IPEC) (2001) Trafficking and Sexual Exploitation of Children: An Evaluation of the ILOIPEC Programmes in Thailand, Philippines, Colombia, Costa Rica and Nicaragua. Geneva: ILO-IPEC.

132 Re-imagining Capacity Building When Participation is Constrained Korten, D. (1990) Getting to the 21st Century: Voluntary Action and the Global Agenda. Connecticut: Kumarian Press. Panam, A. (2004) Migrant Domestic Workers. Thailand: Institute for Population and Social Research, Mahidol University. Physicians for Human Rights (2004) No Status: Migration, Trafficking & Exploitation of Women in Thailand. Boston: Physicians for Human Rights. Potter, C. and Brough, R. (2004) ‘Systemic capacity building: A hierarchy of needs’, Health Policy and Planning, 19(5): 336–345. Sihlongonyane, M. F. (2003) ‘The rhetoric of the community in project management: The case of Mohlakeng township’, Development in Practice, 11(1): 34–44. Stiglitz, J. E. (1999) ‘The role of participation in development’, Development Outreach, Summer 1999, Washington: World Bank, pp. 1–4. United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) (2008) Capacity Development Practice Note, UNDP, New York, USA. Uphoff, N., Esman, M. and Krishna, A. (1998) Reasons for Success: Learning from Instructive Experiences in Rural Development. West Hartford: Kumarian Press. Urbano, M. (2006) Shadows of the Kingdom: Thailand as a Trafficking Risk Factor for Burmese Migrants, unpublished Masters Thesis. Melbourne: RMIT University. World Bank (2008) World Development Indicators. Washington: World Bank. Yunnis, M. (with A. Jolis) (2003) Banker to the Poor. London: Arum Press. Zivets, L. (2003) Project Identification, Design and Appraisal: A Manual for NGOs, Australian Council for Overseas AID (now ACFID), Canberra, pp. 45–51.

7 The Solomon Islands: Conflict and Capacity Heather Wallace

Introduction Many aid programmes and development projects now focus on capacity building. The assumption underpinning these projects is often either a low level of capacity is present in the first place or that capacity may not be in existence at all. This negative perception has certainly driven capacity building projects within the Solomon Islands, particularly during a major period of crisis (1998–2003) and in the ensuing post-conflict setting. Such thinking about capacity building reflects attitudes prevalent in development policy associated with the Pacific Islands generally. These are couched in terms of the language of negativity (Fry, 1997, 2004; Hau’ofa, 1994). The Solomon Islands is one of a number of countries among others in the Pacific Islands region which has been subject to the labels of having ‘failed’, being in the process of failing or of being fragile. This subordinating language has been used to both frame and contain development, and in the process there has often been scant acknowledgement and understanding of inherent and longstanding strengths and capacities located clearly in these countries at village, community and government levels. Instead of considering or applying a more positive strengths-based approach, aid donors have generally adopted a deficits approach to the Solomon Islands capacity and its development prospects. The notion of the ‘fragile state’ has emerged in discussions of the delivery of aid to the region, with the term being embraced by the dominant aid organisations. This label features regularly in policy documents on aid and development planning and programmes. The definition provided by AusAID (2005) is that ‘A fragile state is one where the government lacks the capacity (or will) to provide public safety and security, good 133

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governance and poverty reduction to its citizens.’ The implication is that countries such as Australia will need to continue their ‘policing’ efforts to ensure security in the region and to provide direction, until such time as it is deemed that these states have enough capacity and are robust enough to govern and to provide for themselves. A significant degree of shock and disbelief accompanied the conflict in the Solomon Islands and the crisis, or ‘the tensions’ as it came to be known, involving the violent conflict which occurred, beginning in 1998, which serves as a strong indicator not only of the tenuous nature of relationships at all levels of society but also of the strengths present and how these were drawn upon in response to the crisis. However, in the case of the Solomon Islands, an opportunity has arisen from the crisis to renegotiate the relationship between the community, NGOs and government, to address specifically basic human rights issues in the process and to develop and acknowledge capacity in a way not previously experienced. Capacity building during both conflict and post-conflict periods is fraught with many difficulties and challenges. During periods of conflict and in circumstances such as those experienced in the Solomon Islands, much capacity is altered or can even disappear. For example, the conflict in the Solomon Islands highlighted the strengths inherent in women’s groups and in the role that churches play, particularly in maintaining cohesion and in actively seeking to promote peace. The capacity of women in this role certainly became pronounced during the crisis and although women are traditionally known for their role as peacemakers in the community it was not until the crisis that the extent of their abilities became more obvious. Similarly it was many of the churches and church groups notably the Solomon Islands Christian Association (SICA) which played a significant role in maintaining cohesion and advocating for a resolution to the conflict. For people in a country in receipt of a multitude of programmes and projects funded from a variety of sources such as the European Union (EU), AusAID, NZAid, Oxfam, World Vision and a variety of international non-government organisations, a whole new set of ‘buzzwords and fuzzwords’ (Cornwall, 2007) are attached to this aid flow with which Solomon Islanders must contend. For Solomon Islanders this requires acknowledging the presence of and continually dealing with a range of different perspectives and approaches to capacity building emanating from ‘outside’ and delivered in the form of aid and development programmes and projects which may or may not be in harmony with each other, let alone be compatible with capacities identified by Solomon Islanders themselves.

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There has been very little acknowledgment, until recently, by contemporary ‘development’ policy-makers, of sites of stability, cohesion and cooperation and of the role of civil society in promoting and contributing to the development of capacity. This includes understanding the role of the churches and church supported NGOs and communitybased organisations (CBOs) and more importantly generating discussion and understanding of how important these organisations are to the lives of ‘ordinary’ people. During the crisis in the Solomon Islands it was the CBOs, many with church connections and with their extensive community networks, which were the mainstay of maintaining levels of social stability, particularly at village level. It is now evident that CBOs and NGOs played key roles in limiting violence during the period of conflict and are now key stakeholders in rebuilding civil society during the current post-conflict period. There is an opportunity that arises from conflict to reshape and address relationships and structures particularly between the community and NGOs and between NGOs and the government which involves recognition of the strengths located in civil society. An approach which acknowledges and operates with what is already in place and which can be labelled as ‘capacity’ or alternatively ‘strengths’ is a starting point and it provides a constructive basis for cooperative activities. It also validates the activities of those people and organisations that have already undertaken substantial work in community strengthening. This has occurred without significant forms of outside support. The contrast is a deficits approach which is also known as a ‘gap analysis’ or ‘problem analysis’ and which has been employed regularly in such situations as in the case of the Solomon Islands. Such an approach, founded on negative perceptions, commonly results in setting unrealistic expectations and increases the chances of outsiders imposing change to suit a particular external agenda rather than working with and understanding locally defined and understood objectives. Rather than focusing on building capacity as such, there has been a shift to capacity development, which has a set of different nuances and practices attached to its approach. In advocating for a capacity development approach Morgan (2007) argues for an indirect approach to capacity development, which he suggests is more likely to be effective than a direct approach. Morgan describes indirect capacity development work as: looking for opportunities (as opposed to problems and gaps connected to targeted functions), seeding ideas, finding pockets of Solomon

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(Islands) energy and potential commitment (usually in groups) and then providing support and resources to these groups to make the experiment work. Agendas are formed within the Solomon Islands system and then encouraged to grow and develop in an ‘organic’ way. Emergence rather than planning and design is the way forward. (2007:18) However, there is also the danger that this process can be subject to tensions or even to hijacking by international aid organisations and overseas governments which are not necessarily fully attuned to these approaches and which are wary of or unable to work with fluid timelines and must respond to their own organisation’s directives and expectations of set outcomes.

Background The Solomon Islands has a population of approximately 530,000 (Australian Government of Foreign Affairs and Trade, 2006). The majority of the population resides in rural areas and is located throughout a network of islands. The Solomon Islands experience all of the difficulties associated with rural/urban drift and its negative outcomes, such as growing numbers of unemployed youth and overcrowding, particularly in its capital (and only significant urban centre) – Honiara. These characteristics and trends typify many of the challenges associated with ‘development’. In the Solomon Islands the breakdown of civil society in the period has been commonly attributed by some writers to and depicted in the media in Australia, as having its origins in ‘ethnic tensions’, arising from long-held traditional rivalries between island communities. This has been a simplistic and perhaps conveniently useful label employed by both the media and governments, such as Australia’s, to summarise and condense a complex situation into a simple picture. Such labelling does not depict nor indicate, the involved reasons behind the tensions that developed. Kabutaulaka (2002), Moore (2004) and Fraenkel (2004) refer to the competition for resources and power and specifically for land and access to paid employment and decision-making. This has fuelled certain perceptions and tensions between ethnic groups. The inability of the government to meet many of the basic needs of the people in health, education and employment, and to address the tenets of good governance, has certainly added to the tensions. The situation is a complex one and it is a challenge to gain an understanding of it, given that much of the analysis has been

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subject to such a degree of over-simplification. In attempting to understand some of the complexities that have led to the conflict, account must be taken of the pressures which have arisen from increased urbanisation and internal migration, and to pressures from the resulting increased demand for limited resources, and from environmental degradation, lack of faith in governments, corruption and favouritism, increased centralisation of resources and the breakdown of traditional ways of maintaining community cohesion and of implementing conflict resolution. Added to this is the rising national and foreign debt, an economy that is in decline, and the closure of major revenue earning commercial enterprises, such as Gold Ridge Mine, the Solomon Islands Plantation Ltd and Solomon Taiyo. The background events outlined above and the climate of increasing competition and tension over settlement issues involving land use, employment and respect for custom, especially that of the Guadalcanalese, were some of the factors which contributed to the outbreak of tensions. Although there are varying accounts of the actual events (Kabutaulaka, 2002; Bennett, 2002; Moore, 2004; Fraenkel, 2004) which led up to the major outbreak of fighting there is general consensus that events escalated in 1998, when a group of Guadalcanal men attacked a number of Malaitan settlements in the northwest part of the island. Property was destroyed and Malaitan villagers were forced to relocate. The violence escalated and resulted in the formation of groups of Guadalcanal men, initially referred to as the Guadalcanal Revolutionary Army (GRA), then later the Isatabu Freedom Fighters, and eventually the Isatabu Freedom Movement (IFM). Villagers from all provinces based on Guadalcanal were forced out of many settlements and evicted from Honiara, with an estimated 20,000 people, from a range of provinces, being displaced. Ongoing confrontations occurred between the police and the IFM and this resulted in a number of deaths. In early 2000, a group calling itself the Malaitan Eagle Force (MEF) was formed. The main platform of this group involved demands for compensation for the damage caused by the IFM, for the loss of Malaitan lives, and for assistance with the protection of Malaitan interests. Tensions became even more heightened and complicated when MEF sympathisers joined with the police and raided the state armoury. This resulted in a so-called ‘coup’, which forced the resignation of Prime Minister Ulufa’alu in June 2000. According to Amnesty International (2004), both sides committed human rights abuses against the civilian population. Many civilians, including women, children and other non-combatants, were abducted, ill-treated, raped and killed. These abuses were attributed

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to the MEF, the IFM, or splinter groups. Thousands of villagers were internally displaced and were deprived of medical assistance and relief supplies during an MEF blockade. Ongoing conflict occurred on both sides, until a form of ceasefire was brokered at the Townsville Peace Agreement, on October 15, 2000. This did not address the fundamental causes and issues underlying the tension. Although it caused an abatement in the levels of conflict, tension continues to the present. It is within this conflict and post-conflict environment that the difficulties of mainstream approaches to capacity building can be identified. The Church and its role in the Pacific Islands, although a very strong one, is often overlooked by outside policy planners when considering conflict resolution. External planners tend to concentrate on capacity building focusing on the state. Women’s organisations and other community-based organisations many of which are associated closely with the Church, have also been often ignored for their role in conflict resolution and in contributing to social cohesion. This has been evident in aid and development approaches where, although there is an awareness of the strength of community-based activities and organisations, donors in post-conflict Solomon Islands initially ignored many CBOs and community-based reconciliation and recovery efforts. A few weeks after the signing of the Townsville Peace Agreement between Guadalcanal and the Malaitan militant leaders in October 2000, a massive public reconciliation service was held in Honiara. It was organised by the Melanesian Brothers and by the signatories to the TPA. According to Roughan’s (2002) account, when they met there was a tremendous, emotional three-day public reconciliation, in which Guadalcanal and Malaitan militants and their supporters were reconciled. This event was barely mentioned in the international press, nor was its significance acknowledged by those (outsiders) involved in the peace restoration process. The point is that local processes and initiatives are regularly overlooked, not understood, nor incorporated into international aid funded programmes and projects. In the process of ‘building capacity’ and developing projects, the concern is that the basic issues which contributed to the tension have not been resolved, along with the additional situation of unresolved abuses, loss and trauma. The possibility of a return of such violence remains a realistic one. Liloquila and Pollard in their discussion of nationhood and the resolution of conflict, call for the need to ‘promote nation building by creating opportunities and incentives for people to remain on their own land, in their own locality and still be economically viable’ (2000:14).

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Where there is an absence of effective government mechanisms and of policies to deal with human rights abuses, there is an increasing chance of the possibility of a repeat of this situation. Amnesty International has recommended that: For the human rights situation to improve in the Solomon Islands, a combined effort is necessary by government, the police service (particularly the paramilitary Police Field Force) the MEF and IFM leadership, as well as civil society, including the media. Amnesty International believes that the gravity and scale of human rights violations and abuses must be acknowledged, as a separate issue from the political and economic grievances involved in the conflict. At a second stage all concerned parties should focus attention on the difficult political and judicial steps necessary to help prevent further human rights abuses (2000:32). Amnesty International (2004) expressed also a strong concern that the failure to record and document systematically the identity and overall number of those killed, as well as the known or assumed circumstances of their death, could affect efforts aimed at peace and reconciliation. Among a range of other recommendations which Amnesty International made was that the Solomon Islands Government should enter into dialogue with the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights about possible assistance programmes and that support should be given to organisations, such as women’s groups and NGOs, for human rights promotion and for monitoring projects. The Solomon Islands Christian Association (SICA), which played a key role in negotiations of peace and which was also a voice critical of government policy during the conflict, has adopted a position on the need to have restorative justice and has called for the establishment of a Truth and Reconciliation Commission, modelled along the lines of initiatives in South Africa. Despite considerable support for such a venture within and beyond Honiara, outside assessment and support for such an approach was not encouraging. A UNDP report (2004), was critical of this approach and recommended that this path be abandoned. This had ramifications for gathering funding and support for this local initiative. Amnesty International (2000) recommended the need to bring to justice those responsible for serious violations of human rights. It is only after a significant waiting period and ongoing lobbying that the Solomon Islands government has finally agreed, together with international backing, which included calling upon the support

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of South Africa’s Bishop Desmond Tutu, that a Truth and Reconciliation Commission has been established. This was only in May 2009 with its effectiveness yet to be proven.

Civil society, conflict and capacity There have been many shifts and changes in the NGO and government relationships in the Solomon Islands and while there have been increasing levels of cooperation and growing preparedness to work together jointly on projects and programmes, the wariness remains. Attempts to forge NGO-government relationships from ‘outside’ have contributed to this unease. This has been exacerbated at times by the pressures of knowing that funding will not occur for some programmes unless there is evidence of a working relationship occurring between the two sectors. Consequently, there has been a considerable emphasis on ‘strengthening’ activities, particularly given the emphasis of contemporary development policy on ‘capacity building’ for NGOs, so that they might fulfill their role more effectively. Capacity building is located firmly in the good governance agenda, although as Fukuyama (2004) argues, such an approach often ends up weakening the state, rather than strengthening its institutions. Fukuyuma questions the ‘trendiness’ of the language contained in capacity building, and argues that there is a danger in it leading to a loss or to a diminishing of the strengths and capacities already established. He refers to the process of NGOs being at the receiving end of a concentration of capacity building activities and international funding. To be ‘strengthened’, he says, is to: … crowd out rather than complement the extremely weak state capacities of the targeted countries. This means that while governance functions are performed, Indigenous capacity does not increase, and the countries in question are likely to revert to their former situations once the international community loses interest or moves on to the next crisis area (Fukuyama, 2004:139). The Development Services Exchange or DSE is the key and coordinating non-government body in the Solomon Islands. During the conflict it became the focus of attention by donor organisations and there were high expectations regarding its ability to coordinate and deliver funds from overseas. This was despite the organisation having a very weak framework and the situation reveals what happens when assumptions and expectations regarding capacity and capability are present but when they are not necessarily matched by reality.

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As an organisation DSE had experienced a range of peaks and troughs during the last decade. In the mid-1990s it had over a hundred members but by 2003 this had fallen to two. It also found itself in dire financial circumstances, which amounted to it being close to insolvency. A lack of confidence by donors had led to the withdrawal of significant funding from DSE prior to the conflict. Even though it was at an all time low and it seemed to have lost all credibility and organisational ability, DSE was still seen by the many aid and development consultants and donor organisations during the period after the conflict as a source of authority and as a relevant point of contact on Solomon Islands NGO matters. While DSE’s demise coincided with the conflict, prior to and contributing to this situation there were practices which were seen as poor management, relating to terms of the organisation and finances already in place (Upton, 2006). Many of the difficulties involved in the management and organisation of NGOs, such as the DSE, arise from problems with the coordination of funds and from their reliance upon an unsteady flow of aid and on the need for overseas funded positions. Despite the fact that DSE was in a state of disarray during the crisis, it has since embarked upon a process of ‘rebuilding’ and ‘restructuring’. As a consequence DSE has now been selected as a key NGO to receive further ‘strengthening’ by a number of aid organisations (Upton, 2006). There are dangers however, in presenting particular bodies, or even specific NGOs, as being the voice of civil society and concentrating on ‘strengthening’ a select few, or as Pettit states: ‘Too often support for institution-building is concentrated at the “national NGO” or governmental levels, and there is too little (or the wrong kind of investment) at the level of membership organizations, self-help associations and community-based NGOs’ (2000:66). This is a good summary of the position in which DSE found itself in. During the crisis in the Solomon Islands, the term ‘civil society’ became closely associated with a small number of organisations. These organisations included the Solomon Islands Christian Association (SICA) Peace Office in Honiara, which called itself the ‘Civil Society Network’, and which produced newsletters and information under the banner of Civil Society News. Similarly, two other groups comprising NGO and business representatives in Munda and Gizo also named themselves as civil society organisations. When villagers were asked, as part of an overseas funded project, to define the part of society composed of church groups, NGOs and community-based organisations, the answer which people gave was that it was that part of society made up of ‘ordinary’ people and that these people were not associated either with the government, nor necessarily attached to, nor familiar with the NGO sector. There is

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some degree of uncertainty as to what actually constitutes civil society and definitions and understandings of the term civil society vary greatly within the Solomon Islands. The conflict in the Solomon Islands had significant ramifications. These include on the positive side, the possibility of changing NGO relationships with the government. The subsequent situation does show that it is possible for relationships between NGOs and donors to alter and to take different directions. The conflict in the Solomon Islands provides clear examples of how the operational context for NGOs, donors and for the government can alter significantly and also be strengthened. The conflict has served as a catalyst for change also in the NGO-donor relationship. This has resulted in turn, not only in a closer examination of the relative strengths and weaknesses of NGO programmes and organisations but also of their role in the context of the post-conflict situation and ultimately in some effective capacity building work. During the conflict, the churches generally acted cooperatively through SICA, with little interdenominational rivalry. This included the Solomon Islands Full Gospel Association (SIFGA), which represents a collection of smaller, evangelical church groups. SICA represents the interests of the bigger churches. It provides the most authoritative ‘moral’ voice in the Solomon Islands, moreover its role allows it to both criticise and challenge the government and indeed it has actively done so, particularly prior to the elections held during the conflict period. It provided also critical public commentary on issues of corruption and mismanagement. In the past it has been accused of not taking a sufficiently critical or political stance. This role certainly changed as it became far more political, particularly in the crisis period. Eade (2003) states, for example, that for many NGOs, ‘(in) terms of narrow institutional survival, mobilising money takes precedence over mobilising people’. Such a claim indicates the pragmatism involved but it tends to overlook the role that village-based NGOs play and it also neglects those organisations which can be loosely grouped together under the label of ‘Indigenous NGOs’ and which do manage to survive with minimal funds. These organisations exhibit a high degree of voluntary involvement and are clearly committed to addressing the needs of locally-based people. In the case of these NGOs the commitment to local level activities and to survival on minimal funds, means that they are often on the periphery of relationships or ‘dialogue’ with international NGOs and their own governments. These NGOs are often overlooked and sometimes criticised for ‘not playing the game’ and for not matching

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nor adhering to the organisation structure and to requirements followed by more easily recognisable NGOs. Even if these organisations choose to engage more directly in the funding game, they tend to be discarded due to the perception that there is a lack of organisation and good management relating to their effective channelling of funds. The consequences are that other NGOs, which are not as grounded in community-based activities, have access to development funds and this in turn, can cause tensions and difficulties. Huddock (2000) refers also to the method of funding arrangements, particularly to the system of using contracts or cooperative agreements, rather than open-ended grants. This form of funding results in donors retaining tighter control and maintaining closer monitoring of funds and activities. The outcome, as Huddock states, is that: ‘At a time when NGOs have increased involvement with official donors (bilateral and multilateral) and their own governments they actually have less influence over how development assistance resources are spent’ (2000:14). The constant problem of gaining and maintaining access to funding is always present. The reliance on particular donors and the time and energy required to maintain these contacts, as well as attempting to respond to project funding-driven criteria in order to apply for funds, results in the reliance upon technical support, which often means the employment or involvement of ‘consultants’. Once on the international donor circuit and having gained access to resources, however, donor requirements may overshadow local needs and capacities. It also results in what Ignatieff (2003) refers to a process known as ‘capacity sucking out’ which leaves NGOs open to criticism and to the perception that a privileged few are travelling overseas and liaising with international organisations and that they are then seen to be making policy decisions from the ‘outside’. A significant outcome of these processes is that there has been the forging of a hierarchy of NGOs. There is a perception that depending on the ability of NGOs to conform to and deliver programmes and projects according to the criteria of funding agencies, leads to a situation that they are more likely to receive funding and support. The Australian Council For International Development (ACFID) warns of the risks of ‘overburdening’ effective and well-known partners and therefore putting a strain on their capacity, and of undermining their effectiveness while ‘crowding-out’ other organisations, particularly those operating at local levels, on small-scale projects. There is also a ‘temptation to infer effectiveness, of programme delivery from programme size or financial accountability’ (2004:39). The experience of the Development Services

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Exchange in the Solomon Islands during the conflict and in the postconflict period is testament to this process of capacity strain. It is also indicative of how the needs of donors to locate a coordinating body to deliver funds can overrule the reality of existing capabilities and functions of the particular organisation.

Capacity building and women During the period of civil unrest and conflict in Solomon Islands, it was the women’s groups such as the Women for Peace group, which played a significant part in peace negotiations. They, along with other NGOs, such as the Development Services Exchange and certain church groups, were instrumental in organising and coordinating peace efforts and also in organising essential assistance to communities. It is these community-based organisations, such as the women’s groups, which have remained close to the communities. They have a very clear understanding of the basic needs and requirements of communities, especially during periods of crisis. It is also these groups which have helped maintain cohesion and which have assisted in conflict resolution at the village level. These groups have been neglected in the analyses of the conflict and they have not been adequately acknowledged by the funding agencies which are set on assisting the reconciliation and reconstruction processes. The impact of the conflict on women and the degree of violence perpetrated against them has been marginalised, if not entirely ignored. The conflict resulted, for example, in a lack of access to health care and to cash income for women. At the same time, the crisis served to disempower women in several ways, involving economic activities and in their roles as care givers. The considerable strain of supporting families under such difficult circumstances has not. Women experienced difficulties in caring for their families during the crisis, especially when they were unable to access medical attention for their children due to the closure of health clinics and to the lack of supplies. There was also considerable distress for many mothers who hold a view of themselves as the peacekeepers, who were unable to prevent their young men from engaging in violent warfare that resulted in immense loss, social disorder and death. Amnesty International is one of the few organisations which has detailed the women’s situation. There is much unresolved trauma and tension arising from the conflict and this issue was raised constantly by villagers. There are very few avenues or means of appropriate support available to assist women in their recovery from such trauma.

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The National Council of Women (NCW) played a significant role however, in organising and supporting women’s groups during the tensions in the Solomon Islands. NCW was linked closely with the Women for Peace, with an overlap between the two groups and individuals. Many of the relevant groups are comprised of church-based women’s groups. The council, along with Women for Peace, made direct appeals for peace to the militants on both sides. The NCW, along with the Women for Peace, conducted forums and meetings on conflict resolution and sought support from overseas organisations. The women’s groups organised exchanges of food and essential items and distributed basic survival rations and other items to displaced families. The women used strategies which relied on their moral authority, such as the breaking of similar cultural taboos across the different communities (Pollard, 2000). Various strategies employed by the Women for Peace for example, included non-violence and peacemaking activities. All religions were involved. The women were independent of any political movement and worked with both MEF and IFM. Their actions involved meeting with militants, government and police representatives, having representation at ceasefire talks and weekly prayer meetings, including the Women’s Plea for Peace, which was broadcast live throughout the nation; forums and conferences; visits to displaced families, the hospital and provincial communities, particularly to encourage the reintegration of young militants; the exchange of baskets of essential goods and the wearing of a distinctive uniform, that is, scarves of green, yellow and blue, representing the national flag (Pollard, 2000). There were numerous difficult and traumatic outcomes arising from the crisis. These continue to have an ongoing effect. They report that many young males no longer adhere to social norms and cultural values. For instance young men do not demonstrate the same respect for women, elders or traditional leaders. Women say that young people are fearful, angry and confused. They are significantly marginalised from peace and reconciliation processes and do not have a valued or legitimate role to play in planning for the future. The general absence of women from mediation and from formally convened events is not simply a matter of concern regarding equity. The concerns are beyond equity and relate to the possibility of achieving successful outcomes for the resolution of conflict and the restoration process. As Wood and Charlesworth state: ‘The absence or minority presence of women in discussions about conflict resolution, or the implementation of outcomes of such discussions has a bearing on the long-term viability

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of solutions to issues that invariably represent deep-seated local or regional dissension’ (2000:7). Liloquila and Pollard (2000) provide some insight into women’s abilities to maintain cohesion and to act as peacebrokers during periods of crisis. These strengths arise from knowing the roles and responsibilities of women in their own communities. Amnesty International (2004) has documented the harrowing experiences of the Solomon Island women and girls who were made most vulnerable during the periods of conflict. Pollard indicates also that among a range of possible changes, there is the need to involve women much more in community decision-making processes. Pollard (2000a) has indicated that in the post-conflict period there is a ‘need to do things differently’. There have been requests for example, from male leaders, chiefs and ‘big men’ in some communities, who have indicated their willingness to use alternative means to address the breakdown in traditional conflict resolution and to involve women more closely in resolution processes. The concerns of women regarding conflict resolution are often ignored in peace talks, as well as in the development of post-conflict reconstruction programmes and this has certainly been the case in the Solomon Islands. Solomon Islands women, as indicated already, were instrumental in peace initiatives but as negotiations progressed and became ‘official’ their participation was sidelined. Many women have to deal with both the after-effects of the conflict and the unresolved tensions and trauma. The diverse skills and knowledge that women bring to community level peace building are overlooked in post-conflict situations such as the Solomon Islands. There is little acknowledgement of women’s skills and of their knowledge in assisting in conflict resolution. At a workshop held in Australia in 2001, women from the Pacific and particularly from the Solomon Islands, emphasised that the principle of ‘Do No Harm’ as advocated by Mary Anderson (1999) needed to be applied to aid and development. Given the roles that women played in the conflict in the Solomon Islands, and their subsequent treatment, they devised a number of guidelines which included the following recommendation that: donors be consistent in their social and economic policies and projects to ensure that development outcomes work towards overall stability in Pacific Island countries rather than creating and/or supporting inequalities, or maintaining an unequal status quo (Thomas, 2000:5). These guidelines and recommendations have considerable significance for the delivery of aid and for the approach adopted by aid organisations

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and donor governments in a vast range of ‘development’ contexts, particularly in post-conflict settings. There is also a clear message that there needs to be recognition of strengths and capacity already in existence and an acknowledgment of what it is the women contribute to such situations. Traditional leadership is not without its problems. During the conflict in the Solomon Islands many village leaders were unable to resolve tensions through using traditional means of conflict resolution. There is also evidence of leaders or big men making decisions which were personally profitable and of cases of them directing funds to themselves from enterprises, such as logging, and to their own family finances, during the crisis period. The role of many chiefs as peacemakers in conflict resolution, during the most intense periods of conflict, was depicted as being ‘broken down’ and ineffectual. At the same time a lack of respect for the chiefly role by young men was manifest. What has emerged from the conflict is an acknowledgement by some chiefs and local leaders that different approaches are needed to respond to conditions which have changed and which continue to do so. Since the crisis in the Solomon Islands there has been a much clearer understanding and willingness by aid and development donors, to engage with church-based organisations and to assist in their development processes and projects. The role of churches as a stabilising influence tends to receive brief acknowledgment, despite clear evidence and research (Douglas, 2005; Pollard, 2000; ACFID, 2004), which indicates the key role these have played in maintaining cohesion. The role of Christianity and Christian values, combined with Melanesian ‘culture’, has proved to be a particularly binding force. Churches have promoted and sustained cohesion among many sectors in Solomon Islands societies. Christian worship and the organisation of groups around churches has maintained the effective network of women’s groups. However it needs to be added that there is a considerable measure of competitiveness and division present among the various church organisations.

Government and capacity The establishment of the Regional Assistance Mission to the Solomon Islands or RAMSI revealed a significant shift in the direction of Australian foreign policy. In April 2003 the Solomon Islands Prime Minister, Alan Kemakeza, formally requested assistance from the Australian government. Before this request there had been resistance to such a move. This was a significant reversal of Australian policy, from non-intervention to what was termed ‘cooperative intervention’. A regional force was assembled

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with the assistance of New Zealand and other Pacific Island countries, notably Fiji, Kiribati, Samoa, Tonga and Vanuatu. RAMSI was initially a police-led operation but it later involved military personnel. It is now an operation which has an increasing emphasis on, and involvement with, programmes which are aimed at ‘strengthening of the state’. RAMSI’s achievements to date include the restoration of law and order in the parts of the country which were most directly and obviously affected. The challenge of responding to corruption, and of how to deal with the ‘big fish’, remains a significant issue when addressing governance issues. There are also issues of creating and contributing to an ongoing dependency on the delivery of aid and development. Kabutaulaka (2005) and Roughan (2003) both refer to the common saying or syndrome of ‘Weitem olketa RAMSI bae kam stretem’ or ‘Wait and RAMSI will fix it’. The focus has been on strengthening state institutions, with little emphasis on understanding non-state bodies, locallybased organisations and the community sector in general. This has had the outcome of creating a considerable reliance and even dependency on RAMSI. In terms of the work that is occurring with the Solomon Islands Government to build capacity and to strengthen institutions there is however no clear sense of a timeline indicating when RAMSI will withdraw. There is also an assumption present that RAMSI’s activities and specifically its work with the SoIomon Islands Government will reach a stage where enough capacity has been established for it to do so. It is not clear if the strategy for withdrawal is clearly in place. Fukuyama describes a model that ideally should be functioning in which: the international community commits itself to playing key governance functions on a continuing basis and focuses immediate and sequenced capacity-building on other well-defined area where there is a reasonable chance that the Solomons government will be able to create self-sustaining institutions in some reasonable time frame. In these areas, there would be a clearly defined timetable for winding down the international presence, which would hopefully focus everyone’s minds on the need to have local capacity in place by a date certain (2008:2). In a developing community context, it is particularly crucial for joint recognition of existing strengths and capacity, such as prior knowledge and skills, resources, networks and cooperatively identifying means to

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build on these strengths, as a means to achieve change. This approach would result in a significantly different analysis of capacity in the Solomon Islands and result in a much clearer understanding of and ability to work in capacity development. It also provides a more appropriate means of working with community issues and community groups, as well as with external partners and donors. Such an approach assists many organisations to know what is culturally appropriate in terms of discussions, language, respect for existing structures, consultation processes and overall, what is possible to achieve in terms of likely results and outcomes. UNDP provides a useful outline of capacity development practice basics: Capacity development is much more than supporting training programmes and the use of national expertise – these are necessary and on the rise, but we must include response and support strategies for accountable leadership, investments in long-term education and learning, strengthened public systems and voice mechanisms between citizen and state and institutional reform that ensures a responsive public and private sector that manages and delivers services to those who need them the most (2008b:3). With a quarter of the population of the Solomon Islands being under the age of 25 (UNDP, 2008a) there is much potential and capacity available in such a grouping of young people. Increasing the levels of and access to education has been associated strongly with capacity building. However the question arises in the case of such a rural-based population, of education for what purposes? Building capacity through education can result in increasing people’s capacity to manage their own resources in their own way, to maintain sustainable lifestyles and to deal with pressures on natural resources, in response to significant challenges in relation to outside pressures in the forms of logging, mining and fishing. Arguably that is a significant and important outcome of such capacity building. Building capacity to withstand and to find alternative means to traditional forms and notions of development and to support young people to remain in rural areas, with adequate means of income generation and sufficient access to health and education services is a capacity development ideal indicated by many young people with interests and commitments to supporting their own and other communities in the Solomon Islands. If sound capacity development is to occur in the Solomon Islands then it is crucial that their views are heard and are acted upon.

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Prior to RAMSI’s arrival in the Solomon Islands, another aid project, the CPRF, which was funded by AusAID, was the main means of aid delivery to communities. The CPRF’s original objective was: to provide support for small-scale, quick impact, communitybased initiatives, which meet (re)integration, (re) settlement and rehabilitation needs of conflict affected populations-including former combatants-and promote peaceful resolution of disputes between and within communities throughout Solomon Islands (AusAID, 2002). In the language of AusAID, the CPRF was designed ‘to promote peace by responding to the immediate needs of communities at the local level’, with its original mandate being to provide an ‘immediate dividend for peace’. This was a clear example of a project designed to build capacity with the aim of having very immediate outcomes in order to address the aftermath of a conflict situation. The significance of CPRF and its role in influencing the Government, NGO and community relationships, was a radical departure from previous approaches to bilateral aid delivery by the Australian government, towards the direct funding of projects at a community level. This meant that a decision was made that Australian aid funding should be channelled directly through its coordinating body, to projects and needs identified by Solomon Islands communities. This approach was by implication and its activities indicated a lack of confidence in the capacity of the Solomon Islands government. A system of provincial coordinators was established, with the aim of distributing aid to villages and communities throughout all of the islands. At the end of November 2002 a total of 500 projects, throughout the provinces, had been approved and organised. The work of the CPRF, in establishing and assisting in reconstruction and peace building, contains a range of examples of innovative and flexible approaches to the use of aid, to assist in community strengthening and in reconciliation processes. The CPRF then moved into recognising and acknowledging the role of locallybased CBOs and NGOs and to working on strengthening linkages with Australian NGOs. The work of the CPRF was reviewed regularly and was monitored to gauge the effectiveness of its aim of providing ‘support for peacebuilding and community empowerment’. As in any aid and development programme, particularly one with a peace focus, there are many

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lessons to be learned. One provincial coordinator, for example, provided the following insights: Peace is training the mind. It involves attitudinal changes. It cannot be achieved overnight. It does not mean that because everyone cooperates in completing a project related activity that peace will be achieved by all. Some of these community people are enemies. Such an expectation is unrealistic. Training for community people must be provided. Training that will address their minds and way of thinking so that attitudes can change for positive outcomes. We cannot just expect that by cooperating/participating in a project task, peace will be achieved by the people, we must also provide training (AusAID, 2002). As with any aid project, without adequate knowledge and the employment and application of well thought through and organised participatory processes, mistakes can be and are being made. Anderson (1999) asserts strongly that international aid ‘given in a conflict setting should not feed into and exacerbate the conflict’. These principles have particular relevance to the post-conflict situation in the Solomon Islands. This became particularly obvious when visiting an aid funded project in the Western Province. It was readily apparent during discussions with the villagers there that something was amiss. On the surface, the project, which consisted of the provision of water tanks, appeared to be meeting a basic need, according to the criteria set out by the aid funding guidelines, but the villagers said that they needed more tanks. Given the size of the village and its geographic location in relation to water sources, this raised a number of questions. However through further discussion and using the ‘but why’ technique of questioning as advocated by Werner (1982), which is appropriate in working with communities, it emerged that the water tanks were needed because the traditional water source had diminished and was also polluted. The Chief of this particular village had undertaken to approach an aid project coordinator based in the province to seek further aid assistance to address the situation. What emerged also was that the reason for the water source being polluted was due to an overseas logging company having moved into the area. This had directly affected the water source. The logging company had moved in with the permission of the chief and some of the village leaders. There appeared to be very little, if any, consultation with the villagers, particularly the women. It was the women who were

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the water gatherers and who were most acutely aware of what was involved, due to their role in meeting the essential needs of their families. They knew of the deterioration in the volume and quality of the water and they had questioned the village leaders and the chief and they had also remonstrated with the logging company. Two things occurred as a result of this situation. The women were required to pay compensation to the chief, for daring to question his authority and his relationship with the logging company. Secondly, the logging company resorted to employing armed ex-Bougainville Revolutionary Army (BRA) militants from nearby Bougainville to intimidate the villagers and to ‘protect’ the logging company’s interests. It transpired also that the logging company was active in a range of other areas, affecting other nearby villages, which had also been assisted by the aid organisation, through the provision of water tanks. This situation provides a clear and instructive example of the way in which even well organised and carefully thought through aid projects, which aim to assist in the reconstruction of a country and to assist in capacity building through the rebuilding of community relationships and addressing a basic need, can in fact exacerbate or contribute to tensions and to upholding power and self-serving leadership in communities. There are lessons to be learned and incorporated into ongoing aid programmes and most importantly, the key lesson is that, community consultation is an essential part of this process. Capacity building or more appropriately capacity development is not viable unless there is a clear understanding and undertaking that effective consultation will take place. After the arrival of RAMSI, the CPRF was been merged into the activities of the Community Sector Programme (CSP). When the CSP was introduced there was little emphasis placed on activities which had a ‘peace dividend’. The emphasis was more on ‘community strengthening’. Abraham Baenesia, a former chairperson of DSE, in response to RAMSI’s stated aim of strengthening the state, called for increased involvement by NGOs in RAMSI planning and implementation, saying that: Strengthening the NGO sector goes hand in hand with what is planned for strengthening Government Departments … The Australian-led Intervention is a top down approach by governments. We are working on a bottom-up strengthening of NGOs, which we hope will be supported by AusAID and the Office of the Special Coordinator … We would like to see Solomon Island NGO representatives on the

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Intervention Taskforce … and on its committees. At present the Taskforce is made up of politicians and government officials with no civil society representatives.

Conclusion Even though the Solomon Islands experienced considerable loss of capacity during its crisis period along, with much upheaval and trauma, at another level the crisis served to reveal layers of capacity present and clearly located in the kinship networks, in communitybased organisation and networks and also in people’s ability to use resources in order to sustain themselves during such difficult times. Such resilience and resourcefulness as forms of capacity have tended to be overlooked or to be poorly understood by those intent on building capacity, particularly in post-conflict situations. Effective capacity development involves understanding that many organisations are well-versed in their community’s priorities and aspirations and also that many organisations have experience in representing the views of their communities and have relationships with people and organisations at village level and through to the government. The role of churches and women’s groups and many community-based organisations, with their strong structures ranging from village to national levels, need to be taken into much greater consideration when assessing and understanding capacity. Significantly there are links that exist and promote collaborative approaches based within groups, related by language, tribe, clan or family and through shared faith. These have played a vital role in capacity development activities. The loss of capacity in the Solomon Islands conflict situation revealed layers of strength especially located in community-based networks such as women’s groups. A very clear message emerges as perceptions and even prejudices and practices regarding Pacific Island development slowly change and are challenged. When these altered views are incorporated into international community development work there is an increased understanding that capacity has always existed and that the adjusting and the understanding that needs to occur is on the part of those delivering assistance. Capacity development strategies and capacity building will simply not be effective unless approaches clearly acknowledge the strengths and capacities of those who are at the centre of these processes and are ones which are envisioned and seen to be achievable by the people themselves.

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References Amnesty International (2000) Solomon Islands: A Forgotten Conflict. London: Amnesty International Secretariat. Amnesty International (2004) Solomon Islands Women Confronting Violence http://web.amnesty.org/library/Index/engasa430012004. Anderson, M. (1999) Do No Harm: How Aid Can Support Peace or War. Boulder, Colorado: Lynne Rienner Publishers. AusAID (2002) Community Peace and Restoration Fund, Solomon Islands Quarterly Report July 1 to September 30, Canberra. AusAID (2005) Australian Aid: Approaches to Peace, Conflict and Development, AusAID, Canberra. ACFID (2004) ‘Strategic planning workshop report, Development Services Exchange (DSE), Honiara, 2–5 April 2004’, Australian Council For International Development. Australian Council For Overseas Aid (2003) Briefing Paper for the AusAID Solomon Islands Community Sector Program Design Mission, Solomon Islands Working Group. Canberra; ACFOA. Australian Government Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade (2006) http://www.dfat.gov.au/geo/spacific/. Bennett, J. (2002) Roots of Conflict in Solomon Islands, Though Much is Taken Much Abides: Legacies of Tradition and Colonialism, State Society and Governance in Melanesia. Canberra: ANU. Cornwall, A. (2007) ‘Buzzwords and fuzzwords: Deconstructing development discourse’, Development in Practice, 17(4–5): 471–484. Douglas, B. (2005) Christian Custom and the Church as Structure in “Weak States” in Melanesia, paper given at the Civil Society, Religion and Global Governance: Paradigms of Power and Persuasion, 1–2 September, Canberra, Australia. Eade, D. (ed.) (2003) Development, NGOs and Civil Society. Oxford: Oxfam. Fraenkel, J. (2004) The Manipulation of Custom. Wellington: Victoria University Press. Fry, G. (1997) ‘Framing the islands: Knowledge and power in the changing Australian images of the “South Pacific”’, The Contemporary Pacific, 9(2): 305–344. Fry, G. (2004) The “War Against Terror” and Australia’s New Interventionism in the Pacific, State Society and Governance Melanesia Project Conference papers. Canberra: Australian National University. Fukuyama, F. (2004) State Building: Governance and World Order in the TwentyFirst Century. London: Profile Books Ltd. Fukuyama, F. (2008) State-Building in the Solomon Islands, July 9th paper. Hau’ofa, E. (1994) ‘Our sea of islands’, in Waddell, E., Naidu, V. and Hau’ofa, E. (eds), A New Oceania, School of Social and Economic Development. Suva: University of the South Pacific. Huddock, A. (1999) NGOs and Civil Society: Democracy by Proxy? Oxford: Polity Press. Huddock, A. (2000) ‘NGO’s seat at the donor table: Enjoying the food or serving the dinner?’, in IDS Bulletin, 31(3): 14–18 (July, 2000). Brighton, UK: Institute of Development Studies. Ignatieff, M. (2003) Empire Lite: Nation-Building in Bosnia, Kosovo and Afghanistan. London: Vintage.

Heather Wallace 155 Kabutaulaka, T. (2002) A Weak State and the Solomon Islands Process, East-West Center Working Papers, Pacific Islands Development Series, No. 14, April. Kabutaulaka, T. (2005) ‘Australian foreign policy and the RAMSI intervention in the Solomon Islands’, The Contemporary Pacific, 17(2): 283–308. Liloquila, R. and Aruhe’eta Pollard, A. (2000) Understanding Conflict in Solomon Islands: A Practical Means to Peacemaking. Canberra: ANU Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies. Moore, C. (2004) Happy Isles in Crisis. Canberra: Asia Pacific Press. Morgan, P. (2007) Direct and Indirect Approaches to Technical Assistance: RAMSI Intervention in Solomon Islands, September. Pettit, J. G. (2000) ‘Strengthening local organization: Where the rubber hits the road’, IDS Bulletin 31.3. Brighton: International Development Studies. Pollard, A. (2000) ‘Resolving conflict in Solomon Islands: The women for peace approach’, Development Bulletin 53, Canberra, pp. 44–46. Roughan, J. (2002) ‘Pacific first: A failed state’, Solomon Star, p. 5. February 13. Roughan, J. (2003) RAMSI’s first 100 days! Society and governance in Melanesia Project 2003/3. Canberra: Australian National University. Thomas, P. (2000) ‘Introduction: Conflict and peacemaking in the Pacific: Social and gender perspectives’, Development Bulletin – Conflict and Peacemaking in the Pacific No. 53, Development Studies Network. Canberra: Australian National University. UNDP (2004) Solomon Islands Peace and Conflict Development: Emerging Priorities in Preventing Future Violent Conflict, Suva. UNDP (2008a) Human Development Report – Solomon Islands, UNDP, http://hdr.undp. org/en/reports/global/hdr2007-2008/news/asiapacific/ title,5970,en.html – 14.9KB – HDRO. UNDP (2008b) Capacity Development Practice Note. New York, USA: UNDP. Upton, M. (2006) Strengthening Civil Society in the Solomon Islands: Organisational and Network Development in Development Services Exchange, unpublished report. Werner, D. and Bower, B. (1982) Helping Health Workers Learn. California: Palo Alto, Hesperian Foundation. Wood, M. and Charlesworth, C. (2000) ‘Women and conflict resolution in international law’, Development Bulletin, 53: 7–9. Development Studies Network. Canberra: Australian National University.

8 Capacity Building in Indonesia: Building What Capacity?1 Ismet Fanany, Rebecca Fanany and Sue Kenny

Introduction The idea of capacity building can be traced back to the years immediately following World War II, when it was associated with the need to build the administrative capacity of governments and the public sector in developing countries (Pearson, 1969; Morgan, 1994). By the 1980s the scope of capacity building was extended to cover issues of long-term sustainability and ways of ensuring responsiveness to change, which tended to mean that wider structural adjustments were required (Morgan, 1994; McGinty, 2003). At the same time the categories of subjects requiring ‘their capacity to be built’ expanded from government institutions to businesses and civil society institutions, such as non-government organisations (NGOs) (Morgan, 1994). While there are now many definitions of capacity building, in its most general sense the term refers to the process of developing skills, abilities, behaviours and resources within a group so that members can take control of their wellbeing and future directions (see for example Chaskin et al., 2001; Eade and Williams, 1995). Capacity building tends to be identified with the skilling and resourcing of organisations and institutions. For example it has been indicated as a means for ensuring the continued existence of organisations by building institutional strength and reducing reliance on key individuals (Straussman, 2007). Effective capacity building allows an organisation to continue its work despite staff turnover or changes in operating environment. As the principles of development have shifted over the past twenty years they have further embraced the idea of capacity building (see, for example, UNDP, 1991; UNCED, 1992). Effective capacity building has become pivotal to the self-determination of ‘under-developed’ countries. Indeed capacity building programmes have tracked neatly alongside 156

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development programmes, so that in some cases capacity building has become a proxy for development, or at least a fundamental method of development (Eade, 1997). By the 1990s it was central to ideas of sustainable social change in developing and developed countries alike (Craig, 2007). Whether the goal of a development programme is to strengthen inner urban communities, facilitate social inclusion, tackle the spread of HIV/AIDS, build roads, or enhance civil society institutions in general, development projects have increasingly involved some form of capacity building. The promises of capacity building are many. Capacity building programmes offer a way in which countries and communities are enabled to take charge of their own affairs, lift their standard of living and ensure effective responses to change. Such programmes do this by teaching organisational skills, improving technical competence, providing resources and facilitating self-help. Yet this positive view is often not the story coming out of countries where capacity building projects have been in existence for decades. Institutions continue to fail, development targets are not met, communities have not been able to cope with change and selfdetermination and self-sustainability have not been achieved (Chambers, 1997; Eade, 1997; Fukuda-Parr et al., 2002). It is important to reflect on how capacity building has come to be regarded so highly in many quarters and yet appears to have so many weaknesses. One reason might relate to the essentialist understanding of the meaning of capacity building and the formulaic approach to the implementation of capacity building projects. Even today, much of what capacity building means or does is assumed as self-evident and straightforward, even in the many critiques of capacity building practices. Yet capacity building does not have just one meaning. It is not just one form of activity or one set of goals. It has many meanings, forms, activities and goals (see for example, Schacter, 2000; Potter and Brough, 2004; Morgan, 2006). To make sense of capacity building it is necessary to understand its many dimensions and complexities. These are outlined in the following section.

Dimensions of capacity building First, capacity building can be seen as a means to a specified end or an end in itself (Eade, 1997). As a means, capacity building can refer to specific approaches, strategies and methodologies used for the purpose of improving the performance of individuals, groups and organisations to carry out particular functions. For example, training programmes have been constructed as a means to ensure that individuals have the

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capacities to respond to social change. As an end, capacity building is understood as a generic and ongoing process that is important for all human endeavour. From this latter perspective it is more important to continually extend and strengthen capacities in a holistic way than to develop specific capacities for specific purposes. There are also more cynical uses of capacity building as a means. For example, where it involves exogenous interventions, capacity building activities can be used by both donors/sponsors and ‘beneficiaries’ of programmes as a path to legitimacy. In the context of neo-liberal political and economic agendas, lucrative contracts have been provided to private organisations to run capacity building projects, particularly as a form of what Klein (2007) identifies as disaster capitalism. The second dimension concerns the object of capacity building. This can be individuals; groups, such as villagers; organisations, most notably non-government organisations; institutions; sectors, such as business, government and civil society; and nations (Fowler, 1997; Eade, 1997; Fukuda-Parr et al., 2002). The historical origins of capacity building lie in programmes for the technical development of institutions and organisations and the focus on institutions and organisations still exists today. Third, there are different methodologies of capacity building. Probably the best known method is training to impart technical skills, but capacity building also involves provision of knowledge, contacts and resources, which can enhance social capital (connections among individuals, including social networks and the norms of reciprocity and trustworthiness that arise from them) (see Putnam, 2000) and facilitate effective organisation. Mentoring can be an effective way of developing individual knowledge, contacts and resources. The choice of methodology can be based on convenience, that is, what is easily accessible, or on what is deemed to be effective. Alternatively, international agencies sometimes pick high profile activities to impress their international donors. Fourth, it is important to understand the purposes of capacity building. As indicated above, the official aims of capacity building are selfdetermination and sustainability. However there can be many reasons for sponsoring and implementing capacity building projects. For international governments and agencies, successful capacity building decreases demands for costly assistance packages and resources. There can more ideological driven goals too, such as ensuring that a developing country or troublesome group in a developing country is brought into the ideological fold of a sponsoring nation or agency. The tools for ideological incorporation include value sets, such as programmes for training in

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Western methods of management, and offering of rewards such as the building of a new mosque. Critical to understanding the many forms of capacity building is the way in which programmes are conceptualised, developed and implemented. Thus the fifth way of understanding capacity building concerns whether capacity that is top-down or bottom-up. The top-down approach aims to improve people’s capacity to carry out preordained functions and objectives more effectively and efficiently (O’Shaughnessy, 1999). This approach usually involves exogenous interventions by external professionals. It is based on, and reinforces asymmetrical power relations between the providers of capacity building programmes and the recipients, in which control of the identification of need and the means of satisfying needs are retained by ‘experts’. In contrast, the bottom-up approach uses community development methods, whereby the people concerned ‘own’ the process of capacity building. That is, they decide if and when they wish to be involved in capacity-building activities. They identify their needs, goals, priorities and strategies, and importantly, they decide whether they need or want outside interventions to assist them or not. Such community development practice has the effect of deconstructing the ‘development expert’ (Campfrens, 1997). This approach warns against over-reliance on external experts who attempt to build local capacity in their own image, particularly the promotion of Western neo-liberalism, managerialism and technical reasoning. It recognises that ‘development strategies do not have to, and indeed should not necessarily be, imported from outside’ (Lopes and Theison, 2003). The bottom-up approach requires that capacity building projects are integrated into existing knowledge systems, productive activities and structures that exist in any society and locate any project in the wider social, economic and political context (Eade, 1997; Fukuda-Parr et al., 2002). Finally, capacity building programmes can begin by identifying the deficits in any group, institution or country, or they can begin with community members themselves identifying assets. The deficit-based approach begins not with the capacities that a community has, but with what it does not have. For example, many capacity building programmes start with the presumption that poor development is the result of inadequate technical skills, which give rise to ‘bad policies’ and ‘weak institutions’ (McNeil and Woolcock, 2004). From this perspective, as well as arising from poor technical skills, capacity deficit results from absence of strategic or rational thinking. This deficit approach is consistent with the instrumentalist top-down approach.

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The asset-based approach begins with the many assets that already exist in the community. Today many agencies have introduced policies based on the view that strengthening local capacity should always involve building on existing capacities, assets and abilities. As Eade (1997) points out, people always have many existing capacities. The asset approach is sometimes known as ‘capacity development’ (Fukuda-Parr et al., 2002; Lopes and Theison, 2003). Capacity development has been defined as the ability of individuals, organisations, and societies to successfully solve problems and create and meet objectives relating to their own development in a sustainable way (UNDP, 2007). The UNDP further describes capacity development as a largely endogamous process arising from domestic needs. In this, it is different from many earlier efforts at capacity building that relied on external training and expertise that were brought to a community of interest in order to raise the level of available skills. In a seminal paper discussing what they call ‘capacity enhancement’, McNeil and Woolcock (2004) have argued for an approach that involves acceptance that communities have both gaps in required skills and abilities and also existing capacities. However for McNeil and Woolcock capacity building remains largely a top-down affair, in so far as the framing of capacity building projects capacity building agendas are set by ‘professionals’. Now while many capacity building programmes incorporate a number of these dimensions, any one programme is usually underpinned by specific assumptions about ‘how to best do capacity building’ and the importance of local capacities (or incapacities), and thus will favour one approach or another. An overview of the capacity building literature reveals a general trajectory from a narrow focus on capacity building as specific short-term intervention articulated as a means for adapting to social and economic change, involving a technical, top-down, deficit-based approach, to a longer term, people-centred approach which is bottom-up and asset-based. Yet there remains a question mark regarding how far the positive rhetoric of capacity building as the path to bottom-up driven sustainability and self-determination is translated into capacity building programmes and practices. Given the current preoccupation with capacity building in the broad spectrum of development activities it is vitally important to understand the application of the rhetoric to practice. While there have been numerous studies and reports undertaken by international agencies analysing whether the promises of capacity building have been fulfilled from the perspective of Western agencies, funders and sponsors, there have been fewer studies of the various meanings and activities of capacity building from the perspective of

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the people whose capacities are meant to ‘be built’ (see James, 2001). The remainder of this chapter discusses the various perspectives and applications of capacity building in Indonesia. It draws on both secondary data and research undertaken in Indonesia in the period from 2003 until 2009. This research, a five year project funded by Deakin University and the Australian Research Council, investigated capacity building in Indonesian NGOs. In this chapter it is referred to as the Capacity Building in Indonesian NGOs Study.

Development in Indonesia Since gaining independence some six and a half decades ago, Indonesia has been the beneficiary of a wide range of development programmes designed to target the needs of various sectors and geographic locations within the country and groups within the community. Many of these initiatives were introduced by outside agencies in the context of aid and support and have included participants like the Word Bank, the Asian Development Bank (ADB), USAID, AusAID and a number of other governments, most notably the government of Japan. The World Bank alone has financed projects in Indonesia with a total cost of US$25 billion since 1967 (World Bank, 2007b). Its grant programme in Indonesia is one of the largest in the world with more than US$1 billion in 133 trust funds that support co-financing of various development projects, technical assistance, and donor coordination (World Bank, 2007b). The largest of these trust funds has been the Multi-Donor Fund for the reconstruction of Aceh and Nias that was set up following the earthquakes and tsunamis of 2004/2005 (World Bank, 2007b). A similar range of efforts have been implemented by the Indonesian government itself, especially during the New Order period when President Suharto led the nation. During this period, pembangunan (development) was a ubiquitous catchcry and all purpose rubric for Indonesia’s efforts to modernise and provide infrastructure and facilities to its citizens. Development issues have also driven the agendas of many non-government organisations (NGOs) and recently it has been these groups, in particular, that have worked in partnership with foreign aid organisations on capacity building projects.

The meaning of capacity building in Indonesia Capacity building as it has occurred in Indonesia provides a good example of the complexities and difficulties of its application that have been discussed above. If the meaning of capacity building is often a vague and

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far from agreed upon in Western parlance, in Indonesia, where the term has entered the aid and development vocabulary through external initiatives, the confusion and lack of precision is even greater. For while it is not difficult to find references to the term capacity building in government and NGO circles, it tends to be no more than a catch phrase, used to give programmes the stamp of local and international legitimacy. Governments and organisations frequently state that capacity building is an element of their work, yet how they ‘do’ capacity building is rarely discussed. In contrast to the extensive use of the term capacity building in international and Indonesian government funded programmes one of the most striking aspects of Indonesian NGO encounters with capacity building is the extent to which the term capacity building is avoided altogether. In the research undertaken for the Capacity Building in Indonesian NGOs Study, questions about what capacity they needed often had little or no resonance for many of our interviewees. This is not to argue that NGOs were not involved in capacity building, but to suggest that they were not interested in, or prepared to describe what they do as capacity building. What respondents were comfortable in discussing was concrete needs. However, as we discuss below, needs were usually framed within individual and personal terms of reference. The Indonesian language possesses several terms that can mean ‘capacity’. Kemampuan (capacity, ability), kesanggupan (capacity, ability), kekuatan (capacity, strength), and kecakapan (capacity, skill, ability) are all possible translations of ‘capacity.’ Interestingly, however, the word ‘capacity’ in ‘capacity building’, ‘capacity development’, and similar phrases is always rendered as kapasitas, an Indonesianised form of the English word. ‘Building’, ‘development’, or whatever is almost always a non-loan term such as peningkatan (n. increase), pembangunan (n. building), or pengembangan (n. development). The unchanged English term ‘capacity building’ is often used as well. Thus the term ‘capacity building’ is viewed by users in Indonesia as a loan concept that has not (or not yet) been sufficiently integrated into the cognitive framework of the language to warrant an Indonesian equivalent. It is important to note that knowledge of and ability to use English is limited in Indonesia. Exposure to the language is associated with higher levels of education and often status in society. It is for this reason that Indonesian publications intended for well-educated, comparatively affluent readers show a very high number of loan words, almost entirely from English. Loan words from Arabic are similarly common in material that relates to religion, while loan words from Malay usage in Malaysia are found in many forums, especially those relating to popular culture and shared experiences. Most Indonesian speakers do not understand the languages these loan words originate from;

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they learn them as formed concepts, without understanding their origin or derivation. The fact that capacity building exists in Indonesian as a borrowed term and has not given rise to any significant discussion in Indonesian about the meaning and nature of the concept has no doubt contributed to cross-cultural misunderstandings of aid providers and development organisations that have undertaken capacity building efforts in the nation. Today virtually every Indonesian government department, government owned enterprise,3 major company operating in the nation and NGO makes use of the term ‘pembangunan kapasitas’ (capacity building) and/or ‘peningkatan kapasitas’ (increasing capacity) in their planning and policy documents. For example, BAPPENAS (Badan Perencanaan Pembangunan Nasional = National Development Planning Agency), in Clause 70 of its mission statement entitled Tugas, Pokok dan Fungsi Biro Perencanaan, Organisasi dan Tata Laksana (Duties, Principles, and Functions of the Planning, Organisational, and Administrative Bureau) that concerns the subsections of the organisation, the operation of the subsection responsible for capacity building for BAPPENAS is described. Sub Bagian Peningkatan Kapasitas Organisasi mempunyai tugas melaksanakan analisis dan evaluasi tugas dan fungsi satuan organisasi termasuk perumusan dan pengembangan jabatan struktural dan fungsional di lingkungan Kementerian Negara Perencanaan Pembangunan Nasional/Badan Perencanaan Pembangunan Nasional, serta melaksanakan analisis jabatan dan beban kerja dalam rangka mendayagunakan dan meningkatkan kapasitas kelembagaan satuan organisasi di lingkungan Kementerian Negara Perencanaan Pembangunan Nasional/Badan Perencanaan Pembangunan Nasional. (Bappenas (2003) Tugas, Pokok dan Fungsi Biro Perencanaan, Organisasi dan Tata Laksana, pasal 70) [The Subsection for Organisational Capacity Building has a duty to carry out analysis and evaluation of the activities and functions of organisational units, including the formulation and development of structural and functional roles within the National Ministry of Development Planning/National Development Planning Agency and analysing roles and workloads in the context of empowering and building organisational capacity within the organisational units of the National Ministry of Development Planning/National Development Planning Agency.] Similarly, Indonesian President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono has mentioned capacity building in a number of his speeches and addresses, as have other national ministers and governmental figures. The following

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example comes from an article written by M. Hatta Rajasa, Minister of the State Secretariat, on the national character of Indonesia: Artikulasi karakter bangsa adalah mengacu pada tingkat peningkatan kapasitas pengetahuan dari bangsa tersebut untuk terus melakukan pembelajaran agar semakin meningkat daya saingnya. (M. H. Rajasa (2007) ‘Membangun Karakter and Kemandirian’, Jurnal Negarawan, 4). [The articulation of the character of a people centers on its level of increasing capacity for knowledge that will allow it to continue to learn and hence increase its ability to compete.] Indonesian NGOs have also taken up the call for capacity building, The Institute for Research and Governance (IRE), an NGO based in Yogyakarta, for example, lists capacity building as part of its mission: MISI Sesuai dengan mandat dan visinya, IRE mengemban sejumlah misi sebagai berikut: 1. Mengembangkan pemikiran kritis dan perilaku demokratis dalam masyarakat. 2. Memperkuat kapasitas masyarakat untuk bersuara menentang kondisi yang sentralistis dan tidak demokratis. 3. Mendorong terwujudnya suatu kerjasama lokal yang berlandaskan prinsip saling percaya antar stakeholders pemerintahan lokal di Indonesia dengan cara penyebarluasan ruang publik yang bebas, otonom dan dialogis. (Institute for Research and Governance website (2001) http://www.ireyogya.org/ire.php?about=pelatihan.htm) [MISSION In accordance with its mandate and vision, IRE has formulated its mission as follows: 1. Foster critical thought and democratic behavior in the community; 2. Strengthen the capacity of the community to speak out against centralistic and undemocratic conditions; 3. Press for the realisation of local cooperations based on principles of mutual trust between stakeholders in the local governments of

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Indonesia through the expansion of public forums that are independent, autonomous, and support dialog.] These are only three of a multitude of examples that introduce capacity building in Indonesia in the context of discussion of development, good governance and community management. They are typical in that they mention the concept of capacity building but do not describe what the term means, or provide much information as to what is involved. Indeed, it is virtually impossible to find a clear definition of capacity building or capacity development within the literature on development and aid in Indonesian, even though these terms are widely used. Media usage of the terms is also common but equally vague, often incorporat-ing more loan terms that refer to other Western concepts that likely have little meaning to an Indonesian speaker. The following example comes from an opinion piece in the Suara Merdeka newspaper about local elections: Untuk itu, kepada para kandidat dan yang nantinya benar-benar menjadi kepala daerah, harus mau membangun capacity building (pengembangan kapasitas). Konsep pengembangan kapasitas, sebagaimana tulisan Drs Teguh Yuwono MPol Admin dan Dra Hartuti Purnaweni MPA (2003), adalah pengembangan kapasitas yang memiliki tujuan untuk meningkatkan kualitas sumber daya manusia. (R. P. Rizan (2005) ‘Kepala Daerah yang Ideal’, Suara Merdeka, 2 March 2005). [For this reason, the candidate who later becomes the head of the region must be willing to develop capacity building. The concept of capacity building, as Drs Teguh Yuwono, MPol Admin and Dra Hartuti Purnaweni, MPA (2003) have written, is the development of capacity with the aim of improving the quality of human capital.] This commentary on capacity building is perhaps not different from much of the literature available in the West which tends to assume a reader has an intuitive understanding of what capacity building involves. In Indonesia, however, it is apparent that the concept, as well as its name, has simply been adopted into the vocabulary of development without any critical conversation about its source or possible translations. Despite the vague and ambiguous meanings of capacity building there is wide acceptance that capacity building efforts are of value as an adjunct to or component of participatory approaches to development and stand

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in contrast to previous development efforts that often focused on economic reforms and top-down initiatives (Mueller, 2006; Straussman, 2007). Capacity building programmes have been linked to the emergence of democratic societies whose citizens are engaged in the full range of social, economic, and political activities (Bourguignon et al., 2007). It is in this context that some authors have suggested a viable civil society is required in liberal democracies, which explains in part why the non-government organisations are so often central in development projects and programmes (Edwards and Hulme, 1996; Newman and Lake, 2006). Certainly in Indonesia, and other nations that have been major recipients of aid and the site of many development projects, NGOs, as mediating agents in the development process, have been the target of many capacity building efforts (Bebbington et al., 2006).

Capacity building and capacity development in practice: Western applications in Indonesia The major focus of capacity building in international programmes in Indonesia is on institutional strengthening and technical training, which is the legacy of Western development imperatives. However Western agencies have also begun to apply some of the newer capacity building approaches based around the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) and World Bank commitment to capacity development. The Kecamatan Development Project4 of the World Bank, for example, is one that includes capacity building for Indonesia. This project, planned to run for ten years from 1998 to 2008, was set up on the principle of community-driven development, a term applied by the World Bank to describe an approach to development that views the individuals involved and their communities as assets in finding sustainable solutions to local problems. It is an approach intended to enhance the responsiveness of local government and to increase its accountability to its constituents as well as to improve local capacity (World Bank, 2007a). As McNeil and Woolcock (2004) point out, the Kecamatan Development Project demonstrates the importance of understanding institutional, contextual and process factors in implementing a capacity building programme. A second World Bank project for Indonesia that takes a capacity development approach is the Urban Poverty Project due to run until 2011. It builds on the methodology developed for the Kecamatan Development Project and also includes a programme of block grants to support community projects to alleviate poverty (World Bank,

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2003). In addition to the alleviation of poverty, a second aim of this project is to promote democratic practices in community-based governance and planning through the development of capacity at this level (Beard and Dasgupta, 2006). It is assumed that development of local capacity will enhance the ability of the community to provide for its own needs and more effectively participate in political and social processes. The Kecamatan Development Project, Urban Poverty Project, and others like them are typical of development work in Indonesia in that, notwithstanding the commitment to democratic participation and flexibility, the determination of the capacity that requires developing is shaped by the aid provider, in these instances the World Bank. This appears to be the case in other capacity building projects funded by a non-Indonesian agency, such as those established as part of the reconstruction of post-tsunami Aceh (Kenny, 2007). Thus the dominant understanding of capacity building practice in Indonesia is much the same as that which guides development planning in other activities of the international funding bodies. It is drawn, either formally or informally, from agendas set by the funding body. While local people might be consulted or become participants in the projects, they do not initiate projects.

Capacity building in practice: Indonesian applications As indicated above, it is only when Indonesians and NGOs have considerable contact with Western discourse and Western development practice that they will feel comfortable using the term capacity building. Yet even such people have different meanings and experiences of capacity building. These meanings and experiences are often not consistent with the way the term is understood by their Western counterparts. This is particularly in evidence in the context of the questions of who or what is the object of capacity building, what capacity is to be built or developed and how, and for what end(s). In the Indonesian context, the major object of capacity building is not organisations, but people, mostly as individuals and sometimes as collectivities. There is little interest in capacity building applying to institutions, sectors or the nation per se. For what ends do people in NGOs and public institutions engage in capacity building? The driving forces of capacity building programmes are strongly pragmatic and can take different forms. First, people might engage with capacity building programmes for no other reason than that such a programme, or more specifically, funds for such a programme are

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available. This approach is consistent with the practice of setting up a NGO, not so much because of a commitment to a ‘cause’, but because funds are available for a specific project (see, for example, Hadiwinata, 2003; Antlov et al., 2005). In such situations the cause is malleable and can be moulded to suit the requirements of funding. This is a rational response to the desperate need for resources on the part of so many Indonesian NGOs. However, because of the pragmatic and opportunistic approach to supporting needs, NGOs often fold when they lose funding, compromising long-term planning and resulting in considerable uncertainty and insecurity for staff. The outcome is a high degree of impermanence in the NGO sector in Indonesia and the shifting of staff between established and newly formed groups (Asian Development Bank, 1999). The establishment of many of the new NGOs in Aceh, Northern Sumatra, after the 2004 tsunami, specifically when it became clear how much aid money might be forthcoming, is a good example of capacity building undertaken mainly because of the availability of funding. Some of these groups did not even undertake particular projects, subcontracting the projects they won to other organisations. The expertise these NGOs had was little more than the ability to write tender applications and identify appropriate contractors that they could subcontract projects to. They had very little experience, if any, in the work they were committed to undertake, such as the construction of roads, bridges or housing. Another example of opportunistic and short-term capacity building can be seen in the appearance of international and national NGOs in the early period of the reconstruction of Aceh whose main activity was to train the staff of other NGOs, that were usually local, on how to apply for funding. The external NGOs would hold series of workshops on such subjects as application writing and programme management. Predictably, these NGOs disappeared as rapidly as they appeared when there was no more funding to be allocated. A pragmatic and opportunistic approach to capacity building can also be seen in Lombok in the context of regional autonomy when it was introduced in Indonesia. Beginning in 2001, different districts passed local laws that required public consultation on new development initiatives, such as road construction, the building of schools, poverty alleviation, and so forth. Public discussion was deemed an acceptable format to satisfy this requirement, and workshops where development initiatives would be discussed were held. People were to be informed and empowered and encouraged to think about the initiatives in the context of their community’s needs. The workshops were intended to provide them with

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information as to how these initiatives would affect them in the short and long terms and in what way their needs might or might not be met by the new undertakings. They were also to be shown ways they might be able to develop alternative initiatives that could better address their needs. In other words, capacity building was understood as their capacity to participate in development programmes. It was specifically stated by the law that NGOs would be among the organisations able to conduct public discussion and workshops. Following the inception of the new local laws, many NGOs appeared almost overnight. They immediately applied for funding to conduct public discussions and workshops on proposed development projects. Funding was made available by local governments as required by the new local laws. Very quickly, however, people noticed that the staff of these NGOs had no experience and expertise in managing the discussions and conducting the workshops. The public did not receive meaningful explanations about relevant development projects, and the NGOs were not able to critically evaluate projects as they did not possess the knowledge or experience necessary to fulfill the legal requirements for consultation or meet the expectations of the public for information. It soon became apparent that these NGOs were often set up by family members or friends of government officials who supported and helped pass the consultation laws. Despite an appearance to the contrary, the public soon realised that the NGOs had been set up, not for the benefit of the public, but for those running them. The availability of capacity building funds and direct economic benefit to those running capacity building efforts became the main, if not the sole, motivation for participating in what was intended to be a process for the empowerment of the public. Thus the second reason why Indonesians in NGOs in particular participate in a capacity building project programmes is individual benefit. The opportunity to work with a NGO, for example, is often seen in Indonesia as a stepping stone to something else or as a way of becoming employed in a society that cannot provide jobs for a large number of well-educated people. This no doubt contributes to the opportunistic attitudes of staff, noted by Adrianto et al. (2006) and others (see, for example, Antlov et al., 2005), as well as the lack of permanence among organisations. Rather than developing the capacity of the organisation as an institution to do its work with members of the community as the ultimate beneficiaries, it is the individuals within the organisation who are viewed as the appropriate recipients of the capacity building effort. This tendency has often been noted but is less frequently commented on in reviews of projects. In an evaluation of poverty alleviation programmes

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under regional autonomy, Adrianto et al. (2006:5) described this phenomenon as follows: Every district official interviewed mentioned the lack of capacity among district government agencies, including the heads of the agencies. Districts have been running capacity building programmes for their staff; unfortunately, many of the officials gaining scholarships are interested only in getting titles to secure promotions. As discussed above, unlike what tends to happen in the West, organisations in Indonesia generally do not attract people who are trained in the field in which the group operates and often they have no particular interest and commitment to specific organisational aims. This is particularly the case with NGOs and can be contrasted with comparable organisations in Western countries, which often report a high level of commitment to specific ‘causes’ or issues among their staff (see Uphoff, 1995; Hailey and James, 2004). An NGO in Padang, West Sumatra, established to address issues related to ethnic and religious harmony in the region, exemplifies this phenomenon. The province of West Sumatra, where this organisation is located, is more harmonious in terms of ethnic relations than other, more urbanised provinces in Java and elsewhere. It is inhabited almost exclusively by the Minangkabau ethnic group who are Muslim, and there is also a small number of Chinese, who are not Muslim. While ethnic violence has often been seen in other parts of Indonesia, it has been very rare in West Sumatra, although religious issues have sometimes arisen, mainly between Muslims and Christians. When religious violence intensified in Indonesia after the fall of the Suharto government, particularly in Maluku, Central Sulawesi and some areas of Java, West Sumatra too experienced some disharmony between its religious groups, even though it never reached a violent stage. Efforts to address religious violence in Indonesia attracted attention nationally and internationally, and funding and capacity building training opportunities emerged. The NGO in West Sumatra was founded by a graduate of an Islamic University who has no education or training in conflict resolution or related fields. Practically every time he came in contact with international organisations interested in the mission of his NGO, he mentioned his desire to obtain a scholarship to study overseas. When asked what he would like to study, he did not mention conflict resolution, or it came far down on his list of possibilities. Another issue that has been noted in Indonesia in relation to the personalised goals driving engagement in capacity building programmes is

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elite capture. Elite capture refers to the propensity of high-status individuals to take over development programmes for the personal gain that may be available as a result of funding and operational practices, when such programmes are meant to be ‘community-driven’ (see, for example, Dasgupta and Beard, 2007; Fritzen, 2007). It has been noted that elite capture is an increasing problem as community-driven development becomes more common (Fritzen, 2007). Donors have found that capacity building of the intended beneficiaries of development programmes is difficult to accomplish when there is elite capture of an organisation. Yet Western donors, in particular, are themselves often complicit in the practice of elite capture, when for example they need to liaise with a beneficiary group and require an English speaking, educated contact as well as when they ask that a target population itself nominates a leader to represent their interests (Platteau and Gaspart, 2003). The effect of elite capture is that regardless of the intent of empowerment of disadvantaged groups, capacity building becomes little more than a way of reinforcing existing inequalities and power structures. For example it trains elite members of society in neo-liberal values and technocratic processes while doing nothing to empower other levels of society for their selfdetermination. It is important to acknowledge that not all involvement in capacity building programmes is for narrow personal gain. The final reason for involvement in capacity building is to gain skills and resources to assist in the empowerment of communities. Many NGOs in Indonesia actually do undertake capacity building programmes for the purpose of furthering a cause and advocating for their constituents. This rationale embraces the principles of capacity development and community development. Community development involves genuine ownership of the processes of defining needs, setting goals, identifying priorities and developing strategies by the people affected by goals. They are guided by principles of social justice and human rights. There are many instances of people undertaking training, accessing resources and developing networks for the purpose of the achievement of a goal concerned with the collective good and the achievement of collective self-determination. For example, in the aftermath of the tsunami that hit Aceh in 2004, while some NGOs were established for the prime purpose of gaining access to international funds, there were others that were established by local Acehnese for the sole purpose of taking control of their own reconstruction and developing existing capacities within their own terms of reference. Little attention has been paid to the important role of these indigenous Acehnese groups, including women, teachers and students, in identifying local

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needs and organising to strengthen Acehnese capacities for selfdetermination.

Public perceptions of capacity building efforts in Indonesia What are the public perceptions of capacity building in Indonesia? While there is little understanding of the meaning and practices of capacity building from the perspective of Indonesians in general, there have been a number of evaluations of the outcomes of capacity building programmes. Generally however evaluation reports on capacity building efforts in Indonesia have not considered the perceptions of the communities they were designed to benefit. As a result, it is difficult to assess whether target populations have been satisfied with capacity building programmes intended to address their needs. This may become clearer with time as community-driven initiatives become more established, but at present, formal evaluations of capacity building programmes tend to focus on the achievement of organisational goals. Some international funding groups have also studied the perceptions of NGOs in Indonesia that have acted as partner organisations for the international agency (see, for example, Walsh, 2005). This type of survey addresses a higher level of relationship, that between an international agency and an Indonesia NGO, but does not consider the perceptions of the public that received the NGOs services. It is likely that the public’s perceptions of capacity building efforts do not differ greatly from their views on government and private development programmes in general. That is, capacity building programmes are part of the landscape of activities ripe for political and personal exploitation. For example, capacity building can be co-opted to build the capacity of government to manipulate civil society. Private development entrepreneurs can use capacity building programmes in a predatory way by exploiting the funds available from foreign aid agencies. This view is supported when aid agencies offer training in submission writing and financial management of grants. Throughout its history Indonesia has suffered from endemic corruption in government and private initiatives. This has been widely discussed in both the scholarly literature and the media. It was hoped that the era of reformasi following the end of the Suharto government in 1997 and the subsequent decentralisation under regional autonomy would bring an end to some of the corruption that represented business as usual in Indonesia, but this has not eventuated. A World Bank study, for example, has found that the public believes that corruption

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is a more serious problem since the establishment of regional autonomy than it was before; the Asian Development Bank (ADB) has reported similar findings (World Bank, 2005; Asian Development Bank, 2005). This kind of skepticism on the part of the public is pervasive in Indonesia, as people often assume that those in positions of authority will take whatever opportunities that might be available to improve their own situation. This assumption extends to staff of private organisations and NGOs who have access to benefits and funds. The fact that staff often use the resources of their organisation for personal gain (such as has been reported by Adrianto et al., 2006 and others) is also known to the public who usually do not expect much from projects and programmes intended to address their needs or concerns.

Characteristics of Indonesian approaches to capacity building As discussed above, there are different approaches to and understandings of capacity building in Indonesia. However it is possible to provide a summary of the key themes and characteristics. First, the term ‘capacity building’ does not sit comfortably in Indonesian discourse and remains a loan concept. Even today, with considerable experience of capacity building programmes, the term remains vague and open to co-option for different purposes. Second, in the Indonesian context capacity building is very much a means to an end. It involves the development of specific capacities for specific purposes. The idea that capacity building might be an end in itself, for example as an ongoing holistic project of continual improvement, has little or no resonance in the Indonesian context. Third, the object of capacity building is generally individuals and groups operating within organisations, but not the organisations themselves. Thus the Western emphasis on developing organisational capacity has not been widely adopted. Similarly, capacity building that focuses on giving voice to disadvantaged groups and developing resources and the abilities of these groups so that they can address their own concerns is rare. Fourth, much of the embrace of capacity building is narrowly instrumental, and some forms of embrace are unambiguously opportunistic. For example, some NGOs undertake capacity building programmes, not because the members believe that the programme will improve skills in the group and the effective functioning of an organisation, but because it is available and might afford some leverage to wider networks or resources, or, in the case of individual motivation, because it will bring some personal benefit. Fifth, it

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is important to note that not all involvement in capacity building programmes is for personal gain. For example, attending capacity building workshops can provide strategic proficiency for groups concerned to learn specific skills expertise for agricultural development, planning and campaign organisation. Sixth, capacity building programmes are predominantly organised in a top-down manner. That is, the framing of capacity building programmes and activities of capacity building are decided by so-called ‘experts’, whether these experts be Indonesians or foreigners. Finally, capacity building programmes are still predominantly established from the perspective of deficits in the recipient groups or organisations. These last two characteristics, in particular, are not unique to Indonesia. Nevertheless they present profound challenges to the whole notion of capacity building in Indonesia. They reinforce the view that problems faced by ordinary Indonesians reside in the individuals themselves, rather than in wider structural problems. The function of capacity building is to assist individuals to make their way in the existing world rather than to challenge existing inequalities.

Conclusion: Challenges and lessons Capacity building has held a prominent place in many development projects in Indonesia and is likely to do so for the foreseeable future. The term, used in English as a loan concept or rendered as peningkatan kapasitas, pembangunan kapasitas in Bahasa Indonesia, is used extensively in technical, academic, and media discussion of development, especially in the context of regional autonomy and economic development. Governments at all levels, as well as NGOs and other organisations, increasingly list capacity building among their needs or aims, or suggest that it is a key element of their work. For capacity building to have resonance in the Indonesian context, aid providers must understand the meanings of the term in Indonesia, and more importantly, the way in which individuals will likely react to capacity building initiatives. What the preceding discussion indicates is that there are some significant disjunctions between different players in capacity building programmes, which might be linked to weaknesses in intercultural understandings. Lack of cultural understanding within Indonesian organisations and between Indonesian and Western organisations undermines the possibility of a capacity building approach that entails ‘the mutual journey of discovery’. There are also important misunderstandings between the approaches and claims of Western agencies regarding capacity building and the

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perceptions and concrete realities of capacity building from the perspective of Indonesians, particularly Indonesians involved in NGOs. Whilst capacity building in both Western and Indonesian organisations is premised on a commitment to human agency, the framing of the idea of agency differs. In Western terms of reference the idea of agency implicit in capacity building is primarily understood as the freedom of action and self-determination of collectivities, such as organisations. In the Indonesian context agency is understood in more individualist terms of reference and freedom of action is sometimes circumscribed by a fatalism arising out of a religious determinism. Indeed, there is an important disjunction between the Western focus on capacity building as training to improve the administrative structures, business practices, operating procedures and management processes of an organisation and the Indonesian notion of capacity building as a means by which individuals who are part of an organisation or agency can improve their own abilities and personal qualifications, either as a personal benefit or to assist them to act for ‘a cause’ or as an advocate for others. Misinterpretation occurs because Western aid providers often do not realise that this is the usual method of operation in Indonesian organisations and they expect those individuals selected for training will have been chosen because of their role and duties in the operation. It is this phenomenon that has been recognised and commented upon by the ADB, among others, in evaluating their projects in Indonesia (see Asian Development Bank, 2006). The focus on capacity as organisational skills, including competency in technocratic procedures prompts the view that capacity building in Indonesia is illustrative of what Ife discusses as the continuing colonial project (see Chapter 4 in this volume). Similarly, whilst Western projects tend to emphasise how the goal of long-term community self-determination and sustainability can be met through effective organisation, management and training, Indonesian practices are geared towards more immediate, practical goals. The development of skills in regard to organisational management and accountability mechanisms, for example, has much less appeal than capacity building projects developed around personal development training programmes for individuals. That is, in the Indonesian context self-determination tends to mean individual empowerment for practical personal, social or political ends. This Indonesian perspective makes for difficulty in implementing capacity building programmes oriented to national and institutional strengthening or organisational ability to adapt to change. These disjunctions are compounded by tensions that are found in all exogenously driven capacity building programmes. In Indonesia, as

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in other developing countries, the effectiveness of a capacity building programme is compromised by different accountabilities: to the donor or managing agencies, the recipients of capacity building programmes and sometimes also to the national governments where the project takes place. In particular there is a tension between what Edwards and Gaventa (2001) identify as development imperatives (accountability to recipients) and institutional imperatives (accountability to donors). Whilst many capacity building programmes have limited funding requiring short-term turn around, external accountability also means that there is pressure to deliver certain outcomes within a set timeframe. As Hewitt (2006) argues, contemporary aid is controlled by time constraints and accountability protocols rather than long-term commitment and accountability to the recipient communities that development practitioners are working with and for. This short-termism and pressure to have demonstrable outcomes means that processes are set up on the basis of expediency rather than democratic planning and democratic liaison with local beneficiaries. For example, given the imperative of accountability to their donors in foreign countries, aid agencies tend to favour efficiency and compliance with set timelines over the flexibility usually required for community development processes. Such a state of affairs has been particularly evident in the case of externally generated capacity building projects in the reconstruction of post-tsunami Aceh, where a primary driver of programmes funded by international aid agencies has been to demonstrate that funds were spent on concrete deliverables, regardless of whether effective capacity building took place or not (Kenny, 2007; Cosgrave, 2007; Masyrafah and McKeon, 2008). For some agencies, capacity building projects for the reconstruction of Aceh have offered an opportunity for private profit, as part of the new contractualist arrangements noted earlier as disaster capitalism (Klein, 2007). Short-termism and pressure to deliver also encourages those managing capacity building programmes to cherry-pick the easiest projects to manage and ignore the more difficult, albeit important projects (Fukuda-Parr et al., 2002). Similarly it is more expedient for international agencies to run capacity building projects for the most able participants, or at least those who speak English. There is also an issue concerning the question of who decides whose and what capacities are to be developed. From a community development and capacity development perspective the answer to these questions is unambiguous. Regardless of whether a capacity building programme has been generated internally of externally, it is the recipient communities that should decide. This is because local people know what they need

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and understand the local contexts in which their needs can be fulfilled. There is a strong argument that inability to ensure community ownership of such decision-making processes contributes to the failure of capacity building programmes, because this undermines community ‘buy-in’ to the project. Recognition of such problems is discernable in recent efforts at community-driven development, such as those set up by the World Bank, in Indonesia. The community-driven approach is intended to better serve the public than traditional approaches to development, and to empower individuals to identify their own needs and solve their own problems. Much of the development work that has been carried out in Indonesia has made gestures towards community ownership of projects by making extensive use of NGOs and other Indonesian organisations as brokers or middlemen in disbursing funds and getting work done. Indeed the system has made it virtually impossible to engage in capacity building activities without an Indonesian organisation as a partner (USAID, 2004). Nonetheless, there is still a great deal of cynicism regarding the role of partnership arrangements, despite the reliance of international groups on assistance from local groups (see, for example, Lounela, 2001; Situngkir, 2003; Situngkir and Siagian, 2004). It would now seem obvious that the way of ensuring improvement in capacity building programmes in Indonesia, as elsewhere in the world, is to construct capacity building projects on the principles of community development. That is, the recipient communities decide themselves if and when they wish to be involved in capacity-building activities and they identify their needs, goals, priorities and strategies. But this injunction is not as straightforward as it might first seem. We have already discussed the issue of the elite capture of NGOs in Indonesia, in which it is elites in an organisation who make the key decisions. There are other difficulties too. The aim of capacity building, even where it involves an asset-based approach, is to add value to the existing capacities so that the ‘ability to do things’ in a community is enhanced. This means that additional knowledge, resources, networks and skills are required. Local elites, when comfortable with their existing power in a community or organisation, can be reluctant or even hostile to the import of new knowledge, resources, networks and skills. Moreover, local knowledge can be unsupportive of self-determination, when it is based on fatalistic views and acceptance of traditional patriarchal systems. For example Pupavic (2006) has criticised the culturalism (the privileging of traditional knowledge over ‘imported’ or foreign knowledge) now inherent in international development orthodoxies, including locallygrounded community development approaches, which reify traditional

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production systems while ignoring or discounting the importance of modernist production as a basis for economic advancement. Another challenge arises out of capacity building founded on the very idea of self-determination, especially when it refers to nothing more than endogenous self-help. Self-determination, self-development and selfhelp can be excuses for the abrogation of responsibility to actually provide additional resources, knowledge and skills, and thus an effective way of ensuring that nothing actually changes. These comments are not presented as arguments for the rejection of community development methods, but as reminders that what might seem the appropriate principles for development at face value are not unproblematic. What the preceding discussion illustrated is that capacity building is complex and is replete with difficulties. But this does not absolve us from the need to respond to the many challenges and dilemmas facing those concerned to develop capacity building programmes in Indonesia. The following discussion sets out briefly some lessons that could be taken into account in establishing capacity building programmes in this country. First, understanding the terminology and meanings of the idea of capacity building from different points of view, interests and perspectives is an essential starting point, rather than assuming an agreed definition or meaning or applying an externally generated definition. In the case of Indonesia, placing the different meanings in context can also illuminate the cynical approach many Indonesians have to capacity building. The second lesson concerns the need for specificity when discussing capacity building projects. For example, there needs to be clarification regarding whose capacities are to be built, why, how and for what particular purpose. It is only when specificity is articulated that areas of difference and agreement in approach and practice will become clear, such as differences in identifying the objects of capacity building. Third, a corollary of the points above is the need to be flexible in defining capacity building. There is nothing sanctified about the term. In many cases a very broad definition will suffice. A useful approach is indicated in the work of Lautze and Hammock (1996). That is, capacity building can be any intervention designed to reinforce or create strengths in a community. Fourth, it is important to be wary of what McNeil and Woolcock (2004) identify as a ‘preponderant externality’, in which capacity building programmes are initiated and designed externally, and operated largely by expatriate staff, whilst ignoring local contexts, resources and skills. Notwithstanding the warnings that over-reliance on community control can lead to elite capture and local knowledge which is unsupportive of self-determination, there can be no effective capacity building project in

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Indonesia without beginning with a community’s assets and their understandings of what their problems are, what they need and how they strategise about how to solve problems and fulfill needs. The fifth lesson is linked with the asset-based approach. It is the need to acknowledge ordinary people actually do know ‘how to do things’ (James, 2001). There are few ‘failed’ communities: people themselves know how to construct their own livelihoods; they develop social networks; and they organise their communities. A lack of capacity occurs not because people are inadequate as human beings but because they are hindered by vested interests, corruption, authoritarian regimes and civil conflict. This lesson is an important one, particularly in the Indonesian context. It means that however effective some capacity building project might be within its own terms, it might still fail because of contextual factors. In some cases, particularly in the past, without a change of regime, or the resolution of civil conflict, or the elimination of corruption there could be little progress in regard to capacity development. Sixth, a related issue concerns resource development. The importance of resources for capacity building is often missed. Skills development and knowledge enhancement do not take place in a vacuum. Resources, which might be a computer and access to the internet, or be as simple as an independent place to meet, are needed to help create an environment in which people can continually build their own capacities. The seventh lesson concerns the importance of time. In Indonesia, as indeed in all countries, there needs to be recognition that capacity building takes time. The task of strengthening capacities and abilities cannot be achieved over months or even within the normal donor period of several years. Short term assessments might take place within five years, but longer time scales of ten to twenty years which allow for not only significant development of skills, attitudinal shifts and structural transformation, but also generational changes are essential. For example, in regard to the enhancement of capacity in post-tsunami Aceh, in five years many of the immediate capacity building efforts in the reconstruction have borne fruit, such as the reconstruction and enhancement of the education sector, but it is only in the longer term of perhaps twenty years that (continual)capacity enhancement can be evaluated fully. Finally, one of the key principles of community development is joint learning and mutual respect between all parties involved in a development effort, regardless of the roles they play. In the case of a capacity building this means that all those involved in a project can learn something and enhance their skills and knowledge in some ways by just

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being involved. This is particularly so in Indonesia. There are always many ways of developing capacity, and the rich cultural underpinnings of Indonesian society mean that different regions and different villages have diverse ways of thinking about their needs and various culturally appropriate methods of fulfilling these needs. While villagers and NGOs can learn about new ways of doing things, so too can outsiders or even elites within national organisations learn new approaches, methods and how to do things differently. In summary, it is clear that for any programme to produce the intended results, it is necessary to understand the terminology and different meanings of the key concepts, operationalise the themes, begin from a community’s assets, facilitate joint learning and mutual respect of all parties and ensure full participation at the community level. Yet none of these requirements can be fulfilled without an approach that reflects upon the specific characteristics and needs of the target population. The high level of development activity in Indonesia, continuing needs on the part of Indonesian communities and demands for capacity building indicate the importance of continuing research into the perceptions and understanding of members of the public, government officials, NGO participants and international agencies alike of the meaning and intent of capacity building as an aspect of development. This is currently lacking in Indonesia and represents an area of research that is critical to all future development efforts in this country.

Notes 1 Earlier parts of this chapter have been published in the Community Development Journal in Fanany, I., Fanany, R. and Kenny, S. (2009) ‘The meaning of capacity building in Indonesia’, doi: 10.1093/cdj/bsp044. We are grateful to the publishers of the Journal for permission to draw on this article. 2 The project involved extensive interviews in 20 locations and with 36 organisations over a seven year period, in different provinces in Indonesia, which included: Aceh (Banda Aceh, Aceh Besar); West Sumatra (Padang); South Kalimantan (Banjarmasin); Jakarta; West Java (Cianjur, Bandung, Cirebon); Central Java (Salatiga, Magelang, Yogyakarta); East Java (Surabaya, Malang, Jombang, Probolinggo, Bondowoso); South Sulawesi (Makassar, Sidrap); and Lombok (Mataram, West Lombok). Without the generous giving of time by the NGO respondents in the study, this analysis would not have been possible. In particular we are grateful to Pak Achmad Suaedy, Executive Director of the Wahid Institute for his tireless action research for the project. 3 Government owned enterprises are common in Indonesia. These BUMN (Badan Usaha Milik Negara) [government owned commercial enterprises] operate across sectors, often participate in joint ventures with both domestic and international companies, and are especially significant in industries of national importance such as oil and gas.

Ismet Fanany, Rebecca Fanany and Sue Kenny 181 4 The kecamatan is the region of administration below the kabupaten (similar to a county), that is the main governance unit in Regional Autonomy, and above the desa (village). The World Bank chose this level of administration for its work because of its commitment to improving delivery of services to the poor and commensurate desire to operate as close to the recipients of these services as possible. The Kecamatan Development Project is currently in operation in 40,000 villages in Indonesia (World Bank, 2007c).

References Adrianto, A., Wollenberg, E., Cahyat, A., Goenner, C., Moeliono, M., Limberg, G. and Iwan, R. (2006) ‘District governments and poverty alleviation in forest areas in Indonesia’, Governance Brief, Center for International Forestry Research, 30: 1–12. Antlov, H., Ibrahim, R. and Van Tuijl, P. (2005) ‘NGO governance and accountability in Indonesia: Challenges in a newly democratizing country’, Just Associates, Washington, DC; available at: http://www.justassociates.org/associates_ files/Peter_NGO%20accountability%20in%20Indonesia%20July%2005%20ver sion.pdf Asian Development Bank (1999) A Study of NGOs in Asia. Manila: Asian Development Bank. Asian Development Bank (2005) Capacity to Support Decentralization in Indonesia. Manila: Asian Development Bank. Asian Development Bank (2006) Indonesia: Capacity Building for Financial Governance. Manila, ADB. Available at: http://www.adb.org/Documents/PCRs/ INO/31660-INO-PCR.pdf Beard, V. A. and Dasgupta, A. (2006) ‘Collective action and community-driven development in rural and urban Indonesia’, Urban Studies, 43(9): 1451–1468. Bebbington, A., Dharmawah, L., Fahmi, E. and Guggenheim, S. (2006) ‘Local capacity, village governance, and the political economy of rural development in Indonesia’, World Development, 34(11): 1958–1976. Bourguignon, F., Elkana, Y. and Pleskovic, B. (2007) Capacity Building in Economics, Education, and Research. Washington, DC: World Bank. Campfrens, H. (ed.) (1997) Community Development around the World: Practice, Theory, Research, Training. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Chambers, R. (1997) Whose Reality Counts? Putting the Last First. London: Intermediate Technology Publications. Chaskin, R. J., Brown, P., Venkatesh, S. and Vidal, A. (2001) Building Community Capacity. New York: Aldine De Gruyter. Cosgrave, J. (2007) Synthesis Report: Expanded Summary. Joint Evaluation of the International Response to the Indian Ocean Tsunami. London: Tsunami Evaluation Coalition. Craig, G. (2007) ‘Community capacity building: Something old, something new …?’, Critical Social Policy, 27(3): 335–359. Dasgupta, A. and Beard, V. A. (2007) ‘Community driven development, collective action, and elite capture in Indonesia’, Development and Change, 38(2): 229–249. Eade, D. and Williams, S. (1995) The Oxfam Handbook of Development and Relief, Vol. 1. Oxford: Oxfam.

182 Capacity Building in Indonesia: Building What Capacity? Eade, D. (1997) Capacity Building: An Approach to People-Centred Development. Oxford: Oxfam. Edwards, M. and Gaventa, J. (eds) (2001) Global Citizen Action. London: Earthscan. Edwards, M. and Hulme, D. (1996) ‘Too close for comfort? The impact of official aid on non-governmental organizations’, World Development, 24(6): 961–973. Fowler, A. (1997) Striking a Balance: A Guide to Enhancing the Effectiveness of NGOs in International Development. London: Earthscan. Fritzen, S. A. (2007) ‘Can the design of community-driven development reduce the risk of elite capture? Evidence from Indonesia’, World Development, 35(8): 1359–1375. Fukuda-Parr, S., Lopes, C. and Malik, K. (2002) Capacity for Development: New Solutions to Old Problems. London: Earthscan. Hadiwinata, B. (2003) The Politics of NGOs in Indonesia: Developing Democracy and Managing a Movement. London: Routledge. Hailey, J. and James, R. (2004) ‘“Tress die from the top:” International perspectives on NGO development’, Voluntas, 15(4): 343–353. Hewitt, A. (2006) ‘Being risky and trustworthy: Dilemmas facing a nongovernment development agency’, in Community Development and Global Risk Society Conference Proceedings. Melbourne: Centre for Citizenship and Human Rights, Deakin University, 124–133. James, R. (ed.) (2001) Power and partnership? Experiences of NGO capacitybuilding. INTRAC, NGO Management and Policy Series No. 12. Oxford. Kenny, S. (2007) ‘Reconstruction in Aceh: Building whose capacity?’, in Community Development Journal, An International Forum, 42(2): 206–221. Klein, N. (2007) The Shock Doctrine, The Rise of Disaster Capitalism. London: Allen Lane, The Penguin Group. Lautze, S. and Hammock , J. (1996) Coping with Crisis, Coping with Aid: Capacity Building, Coping Mechanisms and Dependency, Linking Relief and Development. New York: United Nations Department of Humanitarian Affairs. Lopes, C. and Thomas Theison, T. (2003) Ownership, Leadership and Transformation – Can We Do Better for Capacity Development? London: Earthscan. Lounela, A. (2001) ‘Indonesia: Abundant foreign “democratisation”. Money has corrupted the NGO movement’, KEPA Newsletter, http://teksti.kepa.fi/international/english/information/newsletter/2030/?searchterm=None Masyrafah, H. and McKeon, J. (2008) Post-Tsunami Aid Effectiveness in Aceh. Proliferation and Coordination in Reconstruction, Working Paper 6. Washington: Wolfensohn Center for Development at Brookings. McGinty, S. (2003) ‘Community Capacity Building’, paper presented at the Australian Association for Research in Education Conference, Brisbane, 1–5 December 2002; available online at: http://www.aare.edu.au/02pap/mcg02476.htm McNeil, M. and Woolcock, M. (2004) Capacity Enhancement for Social Development: Building on Local Context and Process. Washington: The International Bank for Reconstruction and Development/The World Bank. Morgan, P. (1994) ‘Capacity development – An introduction’, in Emerging Issues in Capacity Development. Ottawa: Institute on Governance. Morgan, P. (2006) The Concept of Capacity, Study on Capacity, Change, and Performance. European Centre for Development Policy Management.

Ismet Fanany, Rebecca Fanany and Sue Kenny 183 Mueller, S. (2006) Rural Development, Environmental Sustainability, and Poverty. New York: United Nations Department of Economics and Social Affairs. Newman, K. and Lake, R. W. (2006) ‘Democracy, bureaucracy, and difference in US community development politics since 1968’, Progress in Human Geography, 30(1): 44–61. O’Shaughnessy, T. (1999) Capacity Building: A New Approach. Melbourne: World Vision. Pearson, L. (1969) Partners in Development. New York: Praeger. Platteau, J. P. and Gaspart, F. (2003) ‘The elite capture problem in participatory development’, Centre for Research on the Economics of Development, Namur, Belgium; available at: http://web.univ-pau.fr/RECHERCHE/CATT/PDF/FG_19_ 06_03.pdf Potter, C. and Brough, R. (2004) ‘Systemic capacity building; A hierarchy of needs’, Health Policy and Planning, 19(5): 336–345. Pupavic, V. (2006) ‘The politics of emergency and the demise of the developing state: problems for humanitarian advocacy’, Development in Practice, 16(3 & 4), June, pp. 255–269. Putnam, R. D. (2000) Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community. New York: Simon & Schuster. Schacter, M. (2000) Capacity Building: A New Way of Doing Business for Development Assistance Organizations, Policy Brief No. 6. Ottawa: Institute on Governance. Situngkir, H. (2003) Moneyscape: The Generic Agent-Based Model of Corruption, Working Paper, Bandung: Bandung Fe Institute. Situngkir, H. and Siagian, R. (2004) NGOs and Foreign Donations, Working Paper, Bandung: Bandung Fe Institute. Straussman, J. D. (2007) ‘An essay on the meaning(s) of “capacity building” – with an application to Serbia’, International Journal of Public Administration, 3: 1103–1120. United Nations Conference on Environment and Development (1992) Capacity Building: Agenda 21’s Definition, Chapter 37. New York: UNCED. United Nations Development Programme (1991) Symposium for Water Sector Capacity Building. Amsterdam: UNDP/International Institute for Hydraulic and Environmental Engineering. United Nations Development Programme (2007) Supporting Capacity Development: The UNDP Approach. New York Capacity Development Group, UNDP. Uphoff, N. (1995) ‘Why NGOs are not a third sector: A sectoral analysis with some thoughts on accountability, sustainability, and evaluation’, in Edwards, M. and Hulme, D. (eds), Non-Governmental Organisations – Performance and Accountability: Beyond the Magic Bullet. London: Earthscan, 17–30. USAID (2004) USAID Strategic Plan for Indonesia 2004–2008: Strengthening a Moderate, Stable, and Productive Indonesia. Washington, DC: USAID. Walsh, T. (2005) Perceptions of Development Partners and Evidence on Aid Effectiveness in Indonesia. London: DIFD. World Bank (2003) ‘Third Urban Poverty Project’, World Bank, Washington, DC; available at: http://web.worldbank.org/external/projects/main?Projectid=P084583 & Type=Overview&theSitePK=40941&pagePK=64283627&menuPK=64282134& piPK=6429041 World Bank (2005) East Asia Decentralizes: Making Local Government Work. Washington, DC: World Bank.

184 Capacity Building in Indonesia: Building What Capacity? World Bank (2007a) ‘Community Driven Development’, Washington: DC: World Bank, available at: http://web.worldbank.org/WBSITE/EXTERNAL/TOPICS/EXTSOCIALDEVELOPMENT/EXTCDD/0,,menuPK:430167~pagePK:149018~piPK: 149093~theSitePK:430161,00.html World Bank (2007b) Indonesia Country Brief. Washington, DC: World Bank. World Bank (2007c) ‘Kecamatan Development Project Overview’, Washington, DC: World Bank, available at: http://www.worldbank.org/kdp

9 Capacity Building and Urban Regeneration in Dublin, Ireland Michelle Share

Introduction Ireland may serve as an interesting example for an analysis of capacity building: a small European country with a strong tradition of ‘community’ action and development that has experienced an intense period of rapid and unprecedented social and economic change (the ‘Celtic Tiger’ phenomenon). In common with many other Western countries it has recently experienced a severe economic downturn. Yet Ireland’s current experience of recession differs from many other countries: as well as exposure to the crisis in the global financial sector, a period of rapid economic development fuelled by a construction industry ‘bubble’ has been followed by an equally rapid period of collapse in the construction and allied sectors. Notwithstanding that Ireland is now in the grip of an economic crisis, since the early 1990s it has experienced massive social, economic and cultural transformation. Once considered a poor peripheral nation on the edge of Europe, it has more recently been lauded as a global model of economic and social success (Kitchin and Bartley, 2007). Over the last two decades it has changed from a society dominated by emigration and unemployment, to one characterised by low levels of unemployment. Indeed, in recent years it has experienced extensive inward migration of young people from the newest members of the European Union. The period of economic growth was also marked by a substantial effort to ‘regenerate’ certain disadvantaged urban areas, mirroring similar trends elsewhere. Such regeneration has involved a conscious and planned attempt to reconstruct both physical and social environments. While for many years urban regeneration has been largely about the development 185

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of the built environment (Corcoran, 2006) there is now a recognition that development schemes have not meaningfully engaged with local communities. This has ultimately created greater divisions within many communities. This chapter examines approaches to capacity building in areas of urban regeneration. It draws on published documentation and on specially conducted interviews with key informants in relation to three Dublin inner-city communities: the Dublin Docklands; Fatima Mansions and St Michael’s Estate. Each place is similar in that it involves redevelopment of the built environment in an area of high economic value, but that has been a dwelling place for public housing tenants. Such populations have experienced long-term social and economic exclusion. Each community differs in terms of the experiences and outcomes from regeneration, yet there are commonalities in the experience of capacity building. The analysis opens with a discussion of social partnership, the corporatist approach to governance that has been dominant in Ireland for a sustained period. It then provides a pen picture of each of the three regeneration areas, before engaging in an analysis of understandings of capacity building, based on interviews with key players in the process. The analysis focuses on issues of language, history, relationships and trust, and social inequality. Finally, the chapter seeks to identify what we might learn about the concept of capacity building from this analysis and concludes that while the concept is largely implicit within the regeneration process, it is nevertheless important in terms of the development of specific skills and capacities required of community members who must engage in the highly contested and conflictual regeneration process. This may have implications for further regeneration activities, in Ireland and elsewhere, and for our understanding of capacity building itself. It is also suggested that as Ireland once again enters a period of economic recession, this particular model of capacity building may be replaced by a more ‘traditional’ one that will focus on community activism and basic human and civil rights.

Social partnership and community capacity building Any understanding of capacity building and urban regeneration in the Irish context must be located within the context of Ireland’s ‘distinctive mode of governance’ of social partnership (O’Riain, 2006). The notion of social partnership has a long history in Ireland and its prominence in social policy discourse predates that of many other societies, including Australia and the UK (Geoghegan and Powell, 2006; Geddes, 1998). From a basis in 1930s Catholic social corporatism it came

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to prominence in the mid-1980s, as a response to a prolonged period of sustained economic and social crisis, and has been central to Irish political discourse since that time (Peillon, 1982). Geoghegan and Powell (2006) note that Ireland has now become ‘a paradigmatic case of partnership working’. It is widely recognised that the model has been a key element underpinning Ireland’s period of economic growth, as it has been used to manage conflictual relationships between key sectors, including employers, trades unions, farmers’ organisations, community and voluntary organisations and, more recently, the environmental sector. Corporatist approaches can be seen in top-down and bottom-up manifestations. Thus the peculiar process of electing of the Seanad (upper house of parliament) reflects the former, as does the series of national partnership agreements and structures, while a particular model of community development and local political organisation represents the latter. In this sense community development is not positioned contra the state, but is part of an overarching structure that seeks to manage political activity on both a local and national basis. Historically organisations such as Muintir na Tíre (‘Community of the Land’), Macra na Feirme (the young farmers’ association) and the two main catch-all political parties (Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael) have sought to mobilise communities, in particular in rural areas, on a cross-class basis. These organisations have been paralleled by the Catholic Church, and by the Gaelic Athletic Association (GAA), an amateur sporting organisation that maintained a very strong community orientation, and which permeates Irish society – rural and urban – to this day (Cronin, Rouse and Murphy, 2009). All of these organisations have, for over many decades, been actively involved in what would now be termed ‘community capacity building’ in the development of community skills and economic development. In both rural and urban areas there is thus a long history of community organisation from below and consequently the Irish state has been seen to respond to community as well as systems needs (Cox, 2005). Hardiman (2006) considers partnership a horizontal form of governance, wherein partnership institutions have consistently shaped policy development. Nevertheless, the current economic crisis has challenged the partnership approach, especially at the national level. This is seen in calls for a national government; the failure of partnership talks to prevent cuts in public sector pay; threats of national strikes; and the polarisation of public and private sector workers. One area where partnership has had a specific impact is in areas of local authority housing (O’Connell, 2007). In response to persistent problems with the management of urban housing estates, local government has

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sought to employ partnership processes and language to engage with residents. As a consequence local citizens are increasingly facilitated in engaging with estate management through formal partnership structures at the local level. These processes predated and so inevitably fed into and helped to shape recent urban regeneration. Indeed in many cases, local residents, through partnership structures, were the drivers of certain regeneration initiatives. Any consideration of community capacity building in the urban regeneration context must therefore recognise the particular Irish experience of the interlinking of community development and social partnership.

Urban regeneration and redesignation of planning zones During a brief economic boom in the 1960s Irish government policy supported decentralisation, and new towns and suburbs attracted industry and development. This policy impacted on many inner-city areas of Dublin where traditional industry practices were changing as a result of technological advancement. During the 1970s the Dublin docklands underwent significant change as a result of mechanisation and containerisation (Moore, 2008) while deindustrialisation was evident in the long-term decline of traditional manufacturing industries (e.g. textiles, brewing, biscuit-making). The economic decline of the 1970s and 1980s was expressed in wide-scale unemployment, particularly in inner-city communities. This contributed to widespread social problems in these areas. The 1980s and early 1990s witnessed further decline in these areas and they were considered only as run-down and undesirable places to live or even enter. But in the ‘Celtic Tiger’ years (since the mid-1990s), government tax incentives and the redesignation of planning zones altered their development potential. With increased property values in waterfront and inner-city areas, a new light of urban regeneration dawned, as in many other similar urban locations across the developed world (e.g. Barcelona, Cardiff, Melbourne, Boston). This regeneration process has resulted in significant changes to the built environment. Public housing has been demolished and replaced by mixed private and social housing complexes and large-scale business development. Yet in the regeneration areas were communities who had not reaped the benefits of the expanding economy. Rather, they continued to face major socio-economic disadvantages characterised by high levels of unemployment and early school leaving, while also being further impacted upon by processes of gentrification (Haase, 2008). The next

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section provides a pen-picture of each of the three communities under discussion.

Dublin docklands A visitor to the area known as the Dublin docklands (526 ha lying on both banks of the Liffey estuary) is greeted by high-rise commercial properties that accommodate national and international corporations that include banking corporations, stock-brokers such as JP Morgan, and a host of other financial corporations. To service the workers in these companies there is a good supply of high-spec malls with coffee houses, bagel bars, noodle bars, restaurants and hotels, and furniture and fashion outlets. Early morning, lunchtime and close of business are marked by the convergence of the dark-suited and stilletoed as they make their way to and from their workplaces. Locals are easily identifiable; brighter colours, tracksuits, and usually accompanied by children in buggies (prams). The area contains modern apartment complexes with mixed housing tenure. Behind them, purpose-built duplex-style housing has replaced some of the traditional flats that were occupied by Dublin City Council tenants. There is also a remaining concentration of 1930s semidetached and terraced housing. Nevertheless, Moore (2008) considers it would be difficult for a newcomer to get a sense that the area has a rich cultural heritage, had once been a vibrant port and that what now exists has been realised as a result of decades of tense and fraught negotiations involving the local community, business and the state. The first phase of the Dublin docklands development (in the late 1980s) centred on technical infrastructure with the development of an International Financial Services Centre (IFSC). There has more recently been an acknowledgement among planners and community members of the need to attend to the social infrastructure or the ‘social regeneration’ of the area. It has been recognised that the first phase of development failed to adequately consider the local residents’ needs. Conversely, it had led to physical segregation and increased alienation of the local community as a result of the influx of professionals associated with the new financial services sector. This was manifested in gated apartment complexes, high-rise office buildings and usurped community recreational spaces. Furthermore, the supposed economic benefits of private investment had not extended to those who had for decades lived in circumstances of socio-economic marginalisation. As in other waterfront developments of the late 1980s and early 1990s, state action had

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effectively supported a neo-liberal agenda of private rather than publicsector development (Moore, 2008). Drawing on the model of social partnership and the lessons learned from the first development phase, the regeneration of the docklands now extends to addressing social needs through programmes of social regeneration delivered by the Dublin Docklands Development Authority (DDDA). The legislation that established the DDDA stipulated that, in addition to the representation of government and business interests, eight community representatives would form part of a Council to be drawn from community development organisations in the area. DDDA documentation places strong emphasis on community consultation and participation, yet this Council operates only as a consultative forum without the power to veto Executive decisions. As noted by Moore (2008:180): ‘although the Docklands Council appears to provide a democratic façade to the decisions of the development authority, it is still the Minister of the Environment who sanctions appointments from a list provided by local groups’.

Fatima mansions Fatima Mansions was a Dublin City Council flats complex, built in 1949. At just 4.6 ha it is a much smaller area than the Docklands. It is located near the famous Guinness Brewery and close to Dublin’s medieval quarter. In recent years the area occupied by the flats has undergone complete regeneration. The flats complex itself has been demolished and replaced by mixed-tenure apartments, townhouses, a shopping centre and recreation facilities. As in the Docklands and some other urban regeneration programmes, this has involved a public-private partnership (PPP) arrangement between developers and government. While Fatima Mansions no longer exists as a physical structure, its legacy as one of Ireland’s most deprived public housing complexes lives on in the minds of many, particularly those who have struggled through a lengthy regeneration process. Fatima was built to accommodate families who had been living in poor conditions in inner city tenements. It was regarded as an improvement on earlier housing but, since the 1970s, a variety of factors resulted in extreme levels of social and economic deprivation including: the loss of local industry; the lack of support to address unemployment; the replacement of stable families who moved out of the estate with individuals and families in crisis; and the public landlord’s neglect of the estate, allowing the deterioration of the environment to become normal through poor maintenance service (Dorman, 2006).

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As in the Docklands area, Fatima’s problems were exacerbated by the 1980s heroin epidemic in inner-city Dublin. Fatima was notorious for its high-level of open drug dealing, drug use and criminality. Corcoran (1998) vividly portrayed people’s lives in Fatima at that time as akin to a prison sentence; one third of the residents were actively trying to relocate, and half of the residents felt ashamed of where they lived. Fatima ranked high on a number of deprivation indicators: early school leaving, drug use, prison incarceration and ill-health (FGU, 2006). More recent census data indicates the persistence of social and economic deprivation in terms of high numbers of lone-parents and low levels of educational attainment. In a broader context, Fatima is located in the suburb of Rialto – an area with pockets of relative affluence, now increasingly experiencing gentrification. During the 1990s there were various community responses to the issues of drugs and housing. Though community members attempted to engage with the City Council in relation to refurbishment of the complex, the experience was unsatisfactory. Fatima Groups United formed in 1996 and operated as an umbrella for the community groups in the area. It generated a greater level of confidence in the community about how to address its needs and it made considerable use of research to support its arguments and of the media to put its case forward. The council responded to the momentum achieved by the community with a plan to demolish the flats but without a strategy to address the related social problems. In the document Eleven Acres Ten Steps the community set out its core principles for regeneration; these were largely accepted by the DCC. A key aspect was the establishment of a limited company regeneration board with equal decision-making among members and resourced by an executive. A masterplan for the physical regeneration was agreed in 2001. The PPP process also underpinned financial investment in a social regeneration plan. The original Fatima residents have been moving back into their new houses in phases since 2005. The area has been physically transformed and a sophisticated social regeneration programme implemented. Fatima has had a long and difficult history but is now generally hailed as a successful model of inner-city urban regeneration (FGU, 2006).

St Michael’s Estate St Michael’s Estate is a Dublin City Council flat complex located on a 4.5 ha site on the edge of Dublin’s south-west inner city. It has also had a long and protracted history with regeneration, but with a considerably less favourable outcome than the previous examples. Lying close

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to the banks of the Grand Canal and approximately 5 km from the city centre, St Michael’s was built in the 1970s as a high-rise development of 346 housing units. At that time the tower blocks were regarded as state-of-the-art urban housing. Dublin then generally comprised lowrise development and the estate stood out on the skyline to the extent that ‘nothing in its surroundings or anywhere in the metropolitan city compared to it’ (Bissett, 2009:25). Like other public housing complexes in Dublin’s inner city St Michael’s Estate went into rapid physical decline as a result of economic shifts, neglect by the council authorities and government policy. A key factor was a housing policy introduced in 1978 that encouraged people to surrender their flats in return for a deposit to purchase a private house. Many families availed of this, particularly those with jobs. They were glad to leave the poor conditions of the estate for a ‘normal’ suburban house with a front and back garden. This created an imbalance on the estate as the council used the vacated flats to house low-income lone parents and other socially marginalised groups. At the same time the inner-city heroin epidemic impacted on St Michael’s estate. Other parts of the inner city, such as the Docklands, saw effective local efforts to drive drug pushers and users from the community. St Michael’s, with its vacant flats and weakened community infrastructure, acted as a magnet for those displaced. The situation was exacerbated by a nearby methadone centre. Bissett (2009:29) describes the blocks as ‘theatres of fear and intimidation’; a long-term community worker has also described the flats as a ‘very harsh place to live’. In 1997 a task force was formed from local groups, residents and members of the City Council. It aimed to develop a response to the serious decline in the estate. Following consultation with residents the Council made the decision to demolish the estate and provide new housing. This was the start of more than a decade of negotiations. Three successive masterplans eventuated, but the ultimate outcome was the collapse in 2008 of the PPP regeneration deal: a victim of the collapse in the construction sector. In 2009 St Michael’s Estate is mainly waste ground. One eightstorey tower block remains and houses a community development project. Just twelve families live on the estate in three of the low-rise blocks. The area continues to be a magnet for anti-social behaviour. While the Docklands and Fatima are regarded as successful models of urban regeneration, St Michael’s and a number of other deprived estates in Dublin have fared badly. Although St Michael’s exhibits many of the features of capacity building found in the other cases, the outcomes there have been far less positive. The process illustrates how

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capacity building in urban regeneration is inevitably shaped by inequalities of power; conflicting ideologies about the role of the State and about the right to public housing; and by the impact of an economic downturn.

Capacity building and urban regeneration in Dublin’s inner city We now turn our focus to the issue of capacity building in the three Dublin inner-city regeneration programmes outlined above. The analysis draws on fifteen semi-structured interviews with community activists, community development workers, a policy analyst and regeneration programme management. This is complemented with an analysis of key secondary data, including regeneration programme masterplans, community-produced regeneration guides and manuals, newsletters, and academic texts. The interviews sought to gain an understanding of how capacity building might be manifested in these programmes. In particular, they were undertaken with a view to determining whether the regeneration process was aligned to a fluid model of community development that is less structured, discursive and centres on people determining their own needs and priorities (Kenny, 2007a), or whether it had an outcomes focus, more aligned to a linear and managerialist approach of capacity building (Ife, Chapter 4 in this volume). As all three areas in Dublin have a long history of social and economic exclusion, consideration was also given to how capacity building has the potential to address social inequalities. While we do not generally find the specific terminology of capacity building in the official discourse of the programmes or in the everyday language of those who were interviewed, an unpacking of the regeneration discourse reveals that a concept and practice of capacity building does feature, but that it is fluid and pragmatic and entwined in longerstanding community development principles and practices. The following discussion thus examines issues of language and discourse, the role of history, relationships of trust, and the significance of power, in order to illustrate the nature of this implicit capacity building discourse.

Language The importance of addressing the language associated with capacity building has been highlighted by Craig who considers that there is a lack of clarity about its meaning and use (Craig, Chapter 3 in this volume). It is therefore important to consider how the interviewees perceived the term

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‘capacity building’. Most expressed a firm belief that the use of terminology such as ‘capacity building’ was not helpful as it disempowered people. It was regarded by most as the language of community development practitioners and policy-makers but unhelpful at local level. At the Docklands Authority, where the social regeneration programmes are developed by executive officers, there was an expressed need to speak in ‘the language that local people understand’. Rather than ‘capacity building’ they speak of jobs, education and housing. Another community development practitioner recognised that urban regeneration work was about building capacity but thought the terminology could be alienating. In contrast, a Fatima community activist regarded language as important and potentially liberating for community groups. While he agreed that community development speak could be jargonistic, there was a need to explain terminology to local people and not to shy away from it. The latter was considered patronising. Use of language was seen as part of the process of empowerment and important for participation on an equal footing: If I talk about building people’s capacity to participate as equals then as equals means being able to participate in the decisionmaking process. So if local people are sitting on boards where there can be a lot of stuff going over everybody’s head then to participate as equals they need to understand what is going on and have the capacity to understand language. Part of empowering people is people sharing language (Community worker, Fatima). This viewpoint is reflected in UK urban regeneration discourse (Banks and Shenton, 2001) where capacity building is characterised as a managed process. Similarly, in Northern Ireland, the Department for Social Development (2009) asserts that people are very capable of learning: jargon is a barrier but disappears very quickly if time is taken to explain what is meant. Words like ‘outcomes’ and ‘outputs’ are understood and adopted when explained and then used in normal conversation. The development of a parents’ group using capacity building, it is suggested, can feature a strategy map, an action plan and a balanced score card (Department for Social Development, 2009). A regeneration programme brings together groups from various backgrounds with varying interests. Typically it will involve professionals in planning and architecture, council officials, real-estate and business interests and local community groups. While the language of profes-

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sionals, in particular of planners and architects, may be perceived as alienating to community groups, the process of regeneration also exposes professionals to alternative approaches to doing business at community level. A policy analyst also pointed out that the professionals involved also had to learn to engage with a political and politicised language with which they were unfamiliar. Community groups also used language to express power. In all three areas community members frequently expressed how they would respond to development plans that they disagreed with by telling the council or others ‘to f*ck off’.

Capacity building for the development of knowledge and skills While there was no explicit capacity building approach in any of the regeneration programmes, all interviewees acknowledged the process as implicit. A community activist at St Michael’s described capacity building as: ‘largely informal, about day-to-day survival, we didn’t put it in a box’. The policy analyst similarly saw capacity building in regeneration programmes as ‘bubbling around under the surface’. This was particularly so in relation to gaining skills needed to engage in the urban regeneration process: urban regeneration is a technical kind of arena and there is a lot to understand in terms of the whys and wherefores of the schemes (Policy Analyst). In the Docklands, while the DDDA did not name what it was doing as ‘capacity building’, it worked with key community activists who could generate a ripple effect in the community: [They] created a sense of possibilities on both sides. This was rarely expressed in specific terms – activists who had gone on training courses – no actual naming of that in an explicit sense but more or less they invested in key people – we know so and so and then that went back out into the community (Policy Analyst). This was acknowledged by interviewees from the Docklands Community Council. They spoke of being given opportunities by the Docklands Authority to visit urban regeneration projects overseas and felt more informed about what was involved: subsequently they were quick to advise the council of what they did and did not like.

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Although the community representatives agreed that capacity building was implicit in the urban regeneration process, they felt it was more explicit when it came to gaining knowledge and skills needed to engage in a technical and hierarchical planning process. These included skills in communication, planning and architecture. In all projects community representatives spoke about how they had needed to learn how to engage with new systems and hierarchies. While they had decades of experience as community activists, being party to a development project required them to sit at the table and engage with architects, planning officials and property developers who largely pursued a linear pathway of building construction – where time was money. While lengthy experience in community development was advantageous it was not sufficient for the demands of the urban regeneration process. Bissett (2009:91) agrees that urban regeneration is a highly technical process that requires skills beyond those needed for everyday community development work: Public Private Partnership (PPP) was an intensely technical process and it was quite easy for communities to get lost along the way. One of the lessons from communities engaged in PPP was the importance of developing and having access to a broad range of skills and capacities. The scale of these new projects placed many estates and community development organisations in completely new territory. Communities needed much more than just community development skills for such a process. One of the areas that came increasingly to the fore was that of architectural and planning supports that communities needed to understand and participate in. At the Docklands, Fatima and St Michael’s the community regeneration teams all participated in communications training. The need for this was emphasised by a long-standing member of the Docklands community council. He spoke of the first meeting of the Council where all the business and public sector representatives sat together while ‘we huddled together at one end’. The community representatives learned to change the rules of engagement, as a result of communications training with a trainer experienced in conflict resolution processes. Now they no longer kept together but dispersed themselves around the table. At Fatima the experience was similar for the resident representatives on the regeneration board. They described feeling intimidated and lacking the confidence to speak up. Their communications training was capacity building in that it helped them to improve their skills and gain

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confidence to negotiate in a new territory traditionally occupied by professionals. Another tangible example of capacity building related to gaining knowledge and skills about architecture, planning and estate management. Comments such as: ‘Sure we knew nothing about architecture’ ‘I remember when they were talking about the water pipes at Emmet Crescent not one of us had a clue about water pipes’ ‘We got what we wanted but then we realised that we knew nothing about estate management and had to do something about that’. For those community members involved in negotiating deals there was a realisation that they needed a variety of skills to be able to participate effectively with planners, developers and council officials. Although it is possible to point to specific forms of capacity building that occurred, much was incidental. While the developers had plans and timelines it was often the case that the community groups had lobbied hard to secure a deal on housing type, density or tenure, only to then find that they had to move into new territory, such as negotiating estate management policy or securing deals for the interior design and furnishing of houses and apartments. They did not know what was needed until they arrived, but knew that they would have to move quickly when they were presented with a new situation ‘or else they would be shafted’. As one community activist put it ‘I don’t know if we really knew what we were doing at the time’. Community members directly involved in regeneration acknowledge that involvement has been empowering in terms of increasing their stock of knowledge and skills. It was essential for them to have a meaningful engagement in the process. It was largely self-directed and considered by them as a positive side to their involvement in urban regeneration. Capacity building in terms of knowledge and skill acquisition was driven by the community themselves and was characteristic of what Kenny (2007b:210) terms a community development approach to capacity building: ‘internally generated and bottom-up in character’.

The role of history While interviewees gave examples of capacity building in terms of increasing knowledge and skills, this was building on existing capacities of community leadership and action that had been developed

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over decades. Documentation and interviewees’ accounts reveal the long history behind the regeneration process, particularly at Fatima and St Michael’s. It was almost impossible to get interviewees to talk about capacity building without receiving detailed explanations of how the process had evolved over several years and of key events that led to certain outcomes. What participants saw as capacity building was rooted in a long history of area-based community development. In all three communities community activism was well established. Key informants had been living and working in their communities for twenty-five years or more and had been involved in tackling community drugs issues long before their communities became the focus of economic regeneration. The community development work also had a strong foundation in social justice, spurred to some degree by nuns who went to live in Fatima and St Michael’s after having worked in majority world countries, and who brought with them an ideology of liberation theology. Among the community interviewees there was a strong sense that they were committed to the regeneration process by virtue of their strong ties to the area that they lived in, illustrated by comments such as ‘we are in it for the long-haul’, ‘we keep chipping away’ and ‘well I was born and reared here and I am not going anywhere’. The regeneration process was no more than another stage in the development of the community, albeit one accompanied by the need to adapt traditional methods of community engagement. While community development processes are generally non-linear and non-outcomes driven, the capacity building process for regeneration was similar, but mediated by pressure of time and the need to deliver the community’s needs within a hierarchical professional planning process. It was also clear that the ‘long-haul’ could be damaging to the community’s vision for regeneration. In Fatima the lengthy process of negotiating the final development plan saw the population dwindle as people moved out. In St Michael’s Estate, where negotiations between the community and the council have been ongoing for a decade, just twelve families remain. At St Michael’s those involved in the regeneration process now acknowledge that the community’s standards may have been too high and that they were too demanding. Consequently time caught up with the process: the population declined as negotiations continued and the economic climate shifted so dramatically that the private developer withdrew from the process. Another consequence of the length of time that the regeneration process requires is that capacities built among members are often lost to

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other communities as people move on. As one community activist stated ‘how can you capacity build when the council is fragmenting and depopulating the estate’. Community representatives acknowledge that capacity was built amongst them to negotiate and engage with the planning process. Nevertheless, it stemmed from a strong community development ethos that collided with the time and money-bound planning process. The community representatives needed the time to take stock of what was presented to them, seek advice, analyse the situation and consult with the residents. The outcomes-oriented and time and space-bound process of urban regeneration constrains meaningful community engagement (Diamond, 2004).

Relationships and trust Interviewees’ discussions of capacity building in terms of its meanings and processes revealed the centrality of relationships and trust. While time and history have been intrinsic to urban regeneration programmes, they are also important to the development of relationships and trust amongst those involved in the process. According to the policy analyst, personal relationships were a precursor to capacity building in the Docklands. She noted that the DDDA worked with key community activists: ‘the seeds were planted in fertile ground already. They already had capacity, they were able to articulate and engage with the authority’. This view is echoed by Moore (2008:296) who points to the roles of key individuals, including developers and investors: What gives the story of Dublin docklands a unique twist is the power of personality, the key role that particular individuals have adopted in the areas from local and national players to well-known developers and investors. At each of the regeneration sites there is a different perspective on trust. At the Docklands and St Michael’s community representatives spoke about a sense of wariness about the motivations of the developers and the state. This feeling was largely derived from past negative experiences. At Fatima a similar sense of mistrust was also acknowledged by community representatives, but located at the beginning of the process. The issue of trust and relationships may to some extent be mediated by the structures that have been developed for community engagement.

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In the Docklands, community representation is strong and has generated significant community gain in terms of infrastructure, employment and educational programmes. Nevertheless, the representatives are part of a consultative forum without any decision-making power in the Docklands Council. They do not necessarily consider this an obstacle. One spoke about how the community members formed effective coalitions. If, for example, there were development negotiations on one side of the river, the community representatives from the other would express support, even though a river and a history of community division are there. Relationship building is thus a strategy that has the potential to increase community members’ capacity to generate community change. This process of building relationships and coalitions of interest was considered by a community development practitioner to be an important strategy for change when decision-making is intractably situated within government structures. For the St Michael’ s regeneration team there is a deep sense of mistrust of policy-makers and developers as they have engaged to no avail in the development of three successive masterplans for the physical and social regeneration of their estate. The view from St Michael’s reveals the difficulties of forming and building relationships when the City Council and the community do not share the same vision for regeneration and when there is a lack of equality in the process. St Michael’s community workers regard the council as purely profit-motivated rather than being interested in using regeneration as a framework to address social inequality. Unlike in Fatima, the St Michael’s regeneration team was not governed by a legal structure. Rather, the community members followed a community development model whereby they engaged in a dialogue with the council planners and developers, one that ultimately the developers could (and did) walk away from. In Fatima the resident representatives on the regeneration board acknowledge that at the start of the process they had a sense of mistrust based on prior negative experiences, but are clear now that trust and relationship building are central to their way of working. Nonetheless, in the case of the Fatima regeneration, organisational factors may be the key: all members of the regeneration team share power as a limited company. Commentators in other regeneration projects, while acknowledging the success of Fatima, and not discounting the enormous struggle in achieving the new development, recognise that the really hard work is yet to come. This will be the work that addresses structural inequalities and the integration of the new community of residents.

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Capacity building processes in the context of urban regeneration are contingent on strong relationships and trust. Planners and developers acknowledge this. They work with well-known members of the community who have represented community interests over many decades. Yet from the community representatives’ perspective this situation is not mirrored in their relationships with planners. Over a lengthy regeneration process officials, planners and developers will come and go. As a community activist in St Michael’s reflected: ‘over a decade we have seen five different City Council management teams’. Though this made the process of building relationships and trust more difficult, the community activist considered the community’s strength was in their shared history and ‘strong community analysis’. Both community and management stakeholders in urban regeneration programmes point to the ‘greying’ or ‘balding’ of community activists. Yet others consider that it is good to have the same people over the longer term. It means that you learn and know how to work with them. In the case of Fatima, Corcoran (1998) has reported that continuity of community activists over the years has been a strength. The DDDA similarly finds that continuity of key community representatives is important to progress. Nevertheless, those involved in the management and administration of urban regeneration projects point to some downsides of continuity, such as a lack of flexibility and openness to change: ‘people can become tyrants’.

Capacity building, urban regeneration and inequality The themes of power and inequality ran through all of the regeneration case studies, in numerous contexts and reflect research that has examined aspects of partnership and capacity building in other areas of regeneration (Diamond, 2004; Corcoran, 2006). Whether interviewees were talking about knowledge or skills, relationships or the history of the regeneration process, the issue of power was a unifying theme. Before reflecting on how capacity building can challenge power and inequality, it must be noted that the majority of interviewees exposed the bedrock of inequality on which the regeneration programmes were based. All three areas had, for decades, experienced deep levels of socioeconomic marginalisation and deprivation. These areas were made up of poor people who had not reaped the benefits of the Celtic Tiger economy, but who were living in public housing that was, ironically enough, considered as prime real estate during the booming economy. As a St Michael’s community activist pointed out, the City Council

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‘recognised that poor people lived on the best of land’. Indeed this is a fact. The three areas discussed here, and many other Dublin city flats complexes, are situated close to the river or a canal, are located on an existing or planned Luas (tram) line, and are close to the central business district. During the building boom these areas were regarded as lucrative development sites for private investment. In addition, the City Council’s housing policy showed it to be moving away from being the ‘landlord’ and to selling off its properties. This allowed it to make substantial profits during the development boom and to simultaneously relieve itself of the responsibility for dealing with the long-standing social and infrastructure problems on many of these estates. As noted earlier, engaging in regeneration exposed the unequal relationships among the parties involved in the process. While in Fatima substantial gains have been made in delivering regeneration on the community’s terms, it has been acknowledged that there was a power struggle to ensure that the community’s needs in relation to social and economic regeneration were addressed. Fatima community workers, residents and management consider their success to be based on power-sharing amongst developers, City Council and community representatives in the limited company that is the Fatima Regeneration Board: The board worked because of what it was. It was not just an informal forum, advisory body, taskforce or ad-hoc group. It was not just a token gesture at community representation. It was not merely a consultative body where the powerful stakeholders listened to what the community thought and then did what they wanted. It was a genuine attempt at power sharing (FGU, 2006:18). Fatima, through the Fatima Regeneration Board has to a large degree secured the ‘externality’ that Diamond (2004) considers as important for local involvement in the regeneration process and for the sustainability of legacy of regeneration. At the Docklands and St Michael’s Estate, where community members were not part of a legally constituted limited company, experiences of regeneration revealed the depth of community engagement and negotiation required in order to achieve some power over the process. At St Michael’s it took eighteen months of negotiations before the City Council agreed to allow community members on to the panel to assess bidders for the development. While this was regarded as a win for the community, ultimately they were not allowed to be part of the contract negotiations. As one community activist at St Michael’s

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pointed out ‘the council and others are very happy for you to capacity build to your heart’s content, but you can capacity build over here, but not over there’. While community members spoke about capacity building in terms of knowledge and skill, some of which the council was happy to fund and support, it was clear in the case of St Michael’s Estate that the council would hold all of the power over the process. In the Docklands the community representatives acknowledge the centrality of power and money in regeneration. While the members of the community council do not share power in decision-making, their view of regeneration is about the long-term social gain for the community in the form of sustainable services and jobs for local people. While the DDDA social regeneration programme has invested heavily in education and social and cultural programmes, there is a sense amongst some community representatives that the main focus of regeneration is economic gain for developers. As one community representative commented: The authority are seen as powerful because they appear to have lots of money for various initiatives however there is a view that although some of these initiatives are well received they are merely feel-good events (Community Worker, Docklands). The community council understands that power and money go handin-hand in regeneration. Though it does not have the power to make decisions, members know how to use community power for community gain: Everything seems to be about money. The community uses its power through ‘community brokers’ to halt development processes and the developers attempt to buy them off. They negotiate with the developers. The community gain might be funding to operate a service and create jobs on the ground for local people but after the money has been divvied up it is often small-scale unsustainable stuff. The DDDA is a source of funding and not much else. We know that the DDDA need the community so there is a constant power struggle (Community Council Representative). With no legal framework for shared decision-making the community representatives have to make decisions about how to engage and this brings risks on a number of fronts. From the perspective of the

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policy analyst the community representatives in the Docklands had to decide: Do we work within the system or outside of the system? It’s an open playing field but there are very deep grooves within that field that drain people away (Policy Analyst). The Docklands community council representatives acknowledge they have had great success in brokering deals for the community: such as an agreed twenty percent proportion of social and affordable housing, and twenty percent local labour on building programmes. But other commentators point to dangers in the seemingly open-playing field of urban regeneration. One community development practitioner pointed to the risk of being ‘bought off’ by developers, illustrating this with the age-old example of ‘the ones who got the corner houses on the estate’. Some community members have spoken of the increasing professionalisation of long-term community activists and question whose interests are being represented, pointing to the possibilities for co-option. Two community development practitioners suggested that the regeneration process laid bare the deep structural inequalities within Irish society about the right to housing. For one the process was like that of British colonialism, when landlords could evict tenants from their lands. The landlord, now in the form of the City Council, was ‘parcelling up public land and selling it to the highest bidder and effectively de-tenanting the land’. In the case of St Michael’s Estate the actions of the state raise serious questions about the basic right to housing for the most marginalised in society. Despite the rhetoric of ‘social regeneration’ and the need for a social mix, the motives of the council officials were geared towards the property market. As Bissett (2009) reflects the actions of the state showed that marginalised people were not going to get in the way of profit. One of the critical characteristics of those living on St Michael’s Estate, and one which had undoubted effects during regeneration was the residents’ status as ‘propertyless’ social housing tenants. The lack of ownership of their properties left tenants particularly exposed to changes in policies and diminished their control over the entire process. The State in many ways exploited this vulnerability for its own ends. It did not act to protect and safeguard such interests either in the present or into the future. Alongside ensuring a profitable develop-

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ment, radically changing the social class structure of the estate became a core state objective. The outcomes at St Michael’s illustrate some of the shortcomings of partnership and capacity building, also noted by Diamond (2004) who writes about urban regeneration from a UK perspective. He considers that while a local agenda that prioritises community needs is implied these programmes are ‘dependent on externally fixed outcomes’ (Diamond, 2004:180). Capacity building is important to develop community knowledge and the skills to engage in the technical arena of urban regeneration. But, while it has created significant inroads into hierarchical planning systems, inevitably it is seriously curtailed in the absence of legal structures that mandate power-sharing among all partners. The case studies presented here show that capacity building is entwined with community development processes that are about empowerment and self-determination of marginalised groups. As the policy analyst reflected, the regeneration process exposes the interface of the community development and built environment models and the different value systems they embody about people, place and profit: You get a top-down model that hits the middle layer of the community representatives, personalities and dynamics are mixing around in that middle layer and the links suddenly go very funny because people are trying to take linear stance (Policy Analyst). According to a Fatima community activist power and inequality in the regeneration process can only be addressed by policies with a legislative basis. Capacity building in urban regeneration programmes is limited in addressing structural inequalities when the process is built on a market model and conflicting values about people, property and profit. As one community worker suggested: What is regeneration for – is it about addressing the inequalities or is it about profit or buying people off to placate them? If nothing changes other than re-housing what does that mean? Although the urban regeneration processes described here show that capacity building is limited in challenging inequalities it is important to point out that there are also examples of capacity building driven by the community to ensure the sustainability of the positive legacies of the regeneration process.

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There is a sense of urgency now (mid-2009) to ensure that the regeneration process will not stall when the DDDA and the Fatima Regeneration Board complete their terms. For the community representatives what they leave behind is important: their children and grandchildren live in the area and they do not want it to be said ‘well, he went along with that for all those years and now it is over – look at the mess’. In both the Docklands and in Fatima community trusts are being developed from revenues raised by community housing trusts and other investments. Those involved in the regeneration process recognise the need to create real opportunities through entrepreneurial activities for the community so it can become less dependent on short-term community employment schemes. There is also an important documented evidencebase that has resulted from the capacity building processes in these areas. All those involved acknowledge that they have learnt a great deal. In particular St Michael’s Estate and Fatima continue to build the capacity of other communities who are involved the regeneration process through documenting the history of the developments and compiling ‘how to’ guides to regeneration for community groups (Canal Communities Partnership, 2007; FGU, 2006). The exposure of the vagaries of the PPP approach, and concern over the sale of public housing land, has generated a new movement – Tenants First – that lobbies for the rights of public housing tenants across Dublin city. In Fatima it is acknowledged that the community should not need a ‘life support machine’ to keep it going after the formal regeneration process ends. There is some fear of things reverting to how they were, borne out of the experience of the failed 1980s redevelopment. It is stressed that ‘failure is not an option’. There is a desire to see the impact on the next generation: this will be a marker of success. They are aware of the challenges before them.

What does this analysis of capacity building tell us? These case studies have sought to outline some of the meanings and processes of capacity building in areas undergoing complex community change in their built, social and economic environments. It has attempted to illuminate, from the perspectives of key informants with a central and long-term role in these communities, what they understand in their work as ‘capacity building’, how this is played out and the challenges posed by persistent social inequality. Chaskin (2001) suggests that the rhetoric of capacity building is both ‘explicit and pervasive’ in community-based approaches to social

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change and economic development, but that the concept itself presents definitional difficulties: there is ‘little clarity about the meaning of community capacity and capacity building in practice’. Banks and Shenton (2001:291) concur: ‘it is hard to pigeonhole the work’; they suggest that capacity building might be best considered ‘on a continuum from the strategic to the developmental, or indeed as part of a circular process’. The analysis presented here suggests that the discourse of capacity building can be largely implicit. In these case studies it is related, in the main, to the development of skills in language, of community selfknowledge, and of relationships and trust with other players. While capacity building in terms of the development of knowledge and skills is well-recognised (Kenny, 2007b; Banks and Shenton, 2001), and may have a clear outcomes focus, in the context of the urban regeneration processes described here it was driven by the community representatives themselves, without a clear strategy. At times it appears almost incidental to the process: emergent from the day-to-practicalities of regeneration work rather than driven by a particular or explicitly ‘named’ programme. The notion of capacity building is most clear-cut amongst professional community development practitioners. It is part of their everyday language and the term is widely used in funding applications. It is a means to an end rather than an end in itself and is essential to allow community members to participate in a meaningful way. While the community realised they had ‘deficits’ in terms of engaging with architecture and planning professionals, they had assets in their leadership and sufficient analysis of their situation to know when they needed to skill-up and how to go about this. To this end they were the drivers in the process; ‘they had their architect and we had ours’. Furthermore, capacity building is not a one-way street. While the community has had to learn the technical aspects of regeneration, developers and planners have had to learn how to engage with communities and learn new ways of working, as did local government officials before them, in terms of estate management. The experiences of those involved in regeneration reveal the processes to be fluid and complex, a space where relationships, history, culture and geography intersect. Structures for engagement are varied. In the Fatima Regeneration Board community, business and government representatives are all members of one limited company. This appears to be more democratic and fair; but also reveals a strong emphasis on relationshipbuilding and trust. The DDDA structure for engagement appears to be

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weaker from the community perspective as it does not hold any decision-making power. But from the community perspective this has not been a problem as they hold power in other ways, through the strength of community activism and their long history in the area. Their strength is in brokerage and a healthy level of mistrust and also in the fact that they are in it for the ‘long haul’. In St Michael’s the regeneration process has been much more protracted and ultimately unsatisfactory for all involved. Nevertheless, there is a recognition that not only is this a negative outcome for the community but also for members of the City Council who followed the route with the community and placed so much stock in the PPP approach. As noted earlier, an analysis of capacity building and urban regeneration should be understood within the context of a long history of community development and the horizontal governance structures of social partnership. But regeneration has placed communities in a new place, one that requires of them new and specific skills to engage with the process. Capacity building in the form of the development of knowledge and skills is necessary so that communities can build competencies needed to engage in dominant power structures. Capacity building has thus been harnessed by community members as a technique to enhance community gain and to seek to maximise community participation in the regeneration process. This has led to some significant influence over aspects of regeneration, in some locations and situations. Nevertheless, this style of capacity building has been unable to fundamentally challenge the inequalities in regeneration, where there are competing interests and power dynamics between market, community and state. It is likely that this process must be accompanied by a formal legislative framework where there is equal decision-making power amongst community, state and private sector, married to a commitment to values of social justice. The latest iteration of social partnership was a response to the economic turmoil of the 1980s. It is now being seriously challenged as Ireland faces another economic recession. The process of urban regeneration dictated a particular approach to capacity building that involved the development of techniques, skills and knowledge that were required for engagement with developers, planners and construction industry professionals. The process of regeneration is now dead in the water, or at least likely to be seriously curtailed, for the foreseeable future. The skills that have been developed amongst communities such as Fatima and St Michael’s may no longer be applicable to the situation. Rather we may see a return to more ‘traditional’ modes of community

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activism and mobilisation, as power is being pulled back to the centre. Indeed, such tendencies are visible in movements such as ‘Tenants First’, which are beginning to mobilise across the disadvantaged urban communities of Dublin’s inner city (and beyond) in order to defend the fundamental rights of local authority residents, and the public housing system itself.

References Banks, S. and Shenton, F. (2001) ‘Regenerating neighbourhoods: A critical look at the role of community capacity building’, Local Economy, 16(4): 286–298. Bissett, J. (2009) Regeneration: Public Good or Private Profit?. Dublin: Tasc at New Ireland. Canal Communities Partnership (2007) Regeneration Learnings and Insights. Dublin: Canal Communities Partnership. Chaskin, R. (2001) ‘Building community capacity’, Urban Affairs Review, 36(3): 291–323. Corcoran, M. (1998) Making Fatima a Better Place to Live. Dublin: Unpublished. Corcoran, M. (2006) ‘The challenge of urban regeneration in deprived European neighbourhoods: A partnership approach’, The Economic and Social Review, 37(3): 399–422. Cox, L. (2005) ‘Review of Fred Powell and Martin Geoghegan, The politics of community development: Reclaiming civil society’, Irish Journal of Sociology, 4(1). Cronin, M., Rouse, P. and Murphy, W. (eds) (2009) The Gaelic Athletic Association 1884–2009. Dublin: Irish Academic Press. Department for Social Development (Northern Ireland) (2009) Voluntary and Community Sector Capacity Building. Available at: www.dsdni.gov.uk/vcnicommunity-capacity-building.pdf. Diamond, J. (2004) ‘Local regeneration initiatives and capacity building: Whose “capacity” and “building” for what?’, Community Development Journal, 39: 177–189. Dorman, P. (2006) Things Can Be Different! The Transformation of Fatima Mansions. Dublin: CAN. Fatima Groups United (FGU) (2006) Dream/Dare/Do: A Regeneration Learning Manual. Dublin: Fatima Groups United. Geddes, M. (1998) Local Partnership: A Successful Strategy for Social Cohesion?. Dublin: European Foundation for the Improvement of Living and Working Conditions. Geoghegan, M. and Powell, F. (2006) ‘Community development, partnership governance and dilemmas of professionalisation: Profiling and assessing the case of Ireland’, British Journal of Social Work, 36: 845–861. Haase, T. (2008) Divided City: The Changing Face of Dublin’s Inner City. Report compiled for Dublin Inner City Partnership. Available at: http://www.dicp.ie/pdfs/ DICP_Divided%20City.pdf Hardiman, N. (2006) ‘Politics and social partnership: Flexible network governance’, The Economic and Social Review, 37(3): 343–374.

210 Capacity Building and Urban Regeneration in Dublin, Ireland Kenny, S. (2007a) Developing Communities for the Future. 3rd edition. Melbourne: Thomson. Kenny, S. (2007b) ‘Reconstruction in Aceh: Building whose capacity?’, Community Development Journal, 42(2): 206–221. Kitchin, R. and Bartley, B. (2007) ‘Ireland in the twenty-first century’, in B. Bartley and R. Kitchin (eds), Understanding Contemporary Ireland. Dublin: Pluto, pp. 1–26. Moore, N. (2008) Dublin Docklands Reinvented: The Post-Industrial Regeneration of a European City Quarter. Dublin: Four Courts Press. O’Connell, C. (2007) The State and Housing in Ireland. New York: Nova Scientific Publishing. O’Riain, S. (2006) ‘Social partnership as a mode of governance: Introduction to the special issue’, The Economic and Social Review, 37(3): 311–318. Peillon, M. (1982) Contemporary Irish Society: An Introduction. Dublin: Gill and Macmillan.

10 Capacity Building and Community Power Randy Stoecker

Introduction Capacity building in the United States of America is defined by its own unique history and cultural circumstances. As such, it can be seen as distinct from the principles and practices of capacity building as they are often understood outside of the United States. While community capacity building in places other than the United States often focuses on the community itself (McGinty, 2002; Murphy and Thomas, 2005; Public Health Agency of Canada, 2008; United Nations Development Program, n.d.), the dominant use of the concept in the United States focuses on nongovernmental organisations (US Department of Housing and Urban Development, 2009; Virginia Department of Housing and Community Development, n.d.; Regional Housing and Community Development Alliance, 2008). And while community capacity building outside of the US is often quite broad, including interventions for everything from a financing infrastructure to a community culture and a professional support system for community development, in the United States community capacity building is highly technical and specialised. This chapter begins with a discussion of the history of capacity building within the United States and contrasts this with a non-US typology of capacity building. The chapter then discusses some of the problems that exist in the current practice of capacity building in the United States and explores an alternative model of capacity building that hold more promise.

Community development in the United States As capacity building is often considered as a next stage of community development (McGinty, 2002), or even overlapped with it (Federation 211

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for Community Development Learning, 2004), it is useful to understand first how community development has historically developed in the United States. The early history of community development in the United States was focused on rural communities, particularly through the development of the government-funded Extension service (Sanders et al., 1966) which placed community development educators in those communities. While the bulk of community development work in the early twentieth century emphasised agriculture, much of it also expanded to include agricultural communities, as Extension community development educators helped organise cooperatives, community health care, and other rural community self-help efforts (Austin and Betten, 1990). This more comprehensive and integrated focus was similar to community development practice in other parts of the world, particularly in underdeveloped regions. And while such work was governmentsponsored in both cases, in the US the sponsorship was through county government – the lowest practical unit of government in rural areas – making community development very much about local rather than national politics. The United States also has a long history of community-based voluntary organisations that have been celebrated since Tocqueville (1997[1889]) made his famous pronouncements about US volunteerism. Such organisations are often gatekeepers for any development effort in a neighbourhood or community. This also reinforces the ‘localist’ bias of community development efforts, particularly in urban areas where voluntary organisations can concentrate on areas as small as a city block. This emphasis on local political control over community development was aided by the explosion of community development work in cities. The trends were already developing in the cities of the early twentieth century through the settlement house movement. Settlement houses were an early form of place-based social work where trained, and sometimes untrained, social workers would move into a house in a poor community and offer various educational programmes and other services for community members. But the great expansion of urban community development occurred in the 1960s with urban riots and the War on Poverty. Once again these community development efforts began through government-sponsorship, but the political heat of the times soon ended such direct government involvement (Lemann, 1988). What was left was a growing network of non-governmental organisations, building on the community organising models of Saul Alinsky (1969, 1971). These groups are mostly known for their focus on building

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neighbourhood-based power. They were also deeply involved in working for affordable and adequate housing, local job and business opportunities, and youth education and recreation programmes (Horwitt, 1989). Even less well-known is the community development work of groups such as the Black Panthers. While portrayed as a violent Black power organisation, the Black Panthers organised children’s meal programmes, literacy programmes, medical care, and other forms of community development in many of the cities where they organised (Jones, 1998). By the 1970s, however, the growing power of these organisations was generating a backlash, particularly among corporate-identified philanthropic foundations, whose power was threatened by such groups. In some cities, such as Cleveland (Yin, 1998), these elites engaged in a concerted effort to defund and delegitimise community organising groups in favour of tamer ‘community development corporations’, also called CDCs. These organisations focused on the technical aspects of rehabilitating housing, providing job training, and supporting business development. Building collective community power was not part of their mandate. Rather than focusing on community development, CDC staff emphasised finance, contracting, and planning skills (Stoecker, 1997). Community development, as a consequence, gradually came to be seen as a set of technical problems rather than political ones. The CDC’s strategy was to develop the best technical plans rather than to challenge exclusionary and unfair policies. Even with programmes such as the Ricanne Hadrian Initiative for Community Organising (RHICO) in Massachusetts that attempted to bring community organising back into CDCs, it is not clear that such programmes have fundamentally altered the CDC structure and process (Greenberg, 2005). Thus, US community development in the US retained its distinctive technocratic character. Technocratic forms of community development raise many challenges for small, underfunded non-profit development organisations. Such organisations need to find adequate funding, develop highly technical skills among their staff, and manage complex bureaucratic and legalistic development planning processes. They have, as it were, many capacity issues. Like community development as it is practised in the US, which has been spurred on by the CDC movement, underpinned by conservative funding schemes, and focused narrowly on the technical dimensions of community development, the concept of community capacity building has concentrated on the narrow challenges of managing non-profit organisations and programmes.

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Community capacity building as organisational professionalisation Community capacity building, also called community development capacity building in the United States, has taken on the same technocratic emphasis that is embedded in community development. Federal grants use the phrase ‘capacity building for community development’ to refer to organisations rather than communities (US Department of Housing and Urban Development, 2009), as do private philanthropy grants (The Charles Schwab Corporation, 2006). Toolkits likewise focus on organisational, as opposed to community development (St Luke’s Episcopal Health Charities, 2009; Office of Community Services, 2009). Much of this focus on community capacity building as organisational capacity building is connected to the specialisation of community development organisations, and specifically to CDCs. Often capacity building programmes are targeted specifically to CDCs (Regional Housing and Community Development Alliance, 2008). So specialised has the organisational development focus of community capacity building become that an entire industry of intermediary organisations has sprung up to provide training and technical assistance to lower level organisations (Liou and Stroh, 1998). Intermediaries such as the Local Initiatives Support Corporation are gatekeepers to funding sources and set the standards that community development organisations must meet to receive LISC’s blessing for funding. By and large then, the international definitions of community capacity building – that emphasise the development of collective knowledge, leadership, relationships, and problem-solution problem management – do not apply in the US. Instead, in general, for the US model, capacity building means developing ‘professional’ organisations. There are exceptions to the organisation capacity focus, such as some rural programmes where such specialised organisations are less prominent (Fettig, 2007) and some capacity building initiatives that arise from US organisations but focus on international development (Unitarian Universalist Partner Church Council, 2006), though even those sometimes impose the US definition of community capacity building as organisation capacity building (Charles Stuart Mott Foundation, 2008). And one of the more prominent works that purports to present a complex and comprehensive model of community capacity building in the urban US (Chaskin, Brown, Venkatesh and Vidal, 2001) then focuses its analysis on organisational professionalisation.

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Community capacity building as social control The consequence of limiting the concept of community capacity building to the development of the technical dimensions of community development organisations is the further depoliticisation of an inherently political process. Non-profit organisations are taught how to operate as businesses, how to put fiscal management ahead of community empowerment and how to conform to an increasingly narrow set of operating procedures. New models of community management – going by labels such as consensus organising (Eichler, 2007) and community building (Gittell and Vidal, 1998), have sprung up denying the relevance of structural class, race, and other divides inherent in the unequal development that has characterised advanced capitalism in the United States. What some are calling the ‘non-profit industrial complex’ (INCITE!, 2007) is a system of social control. In such a system, wealthy elites control funding flows, decide which activities are legitimate and which are not, and consequently shape organisations that may otherwise be vehicles for social change into relief organisations that maintain the current political economic system by trickling just enough resources downward to quell unrest (Piven and Cloward, 1978). Organisations that could build experiences of participatory democracy through collective management are pressured to adopt hierarchical executive director structures staffed by professionals whose primary allegiance is to their profession rather than to the community. One of the most apparent indicators of this trend is the rise of the executive director as a profession (Majone, 1984; Hwang, 2006). In this model, professional executive directors migrate from one non-profit organisation to another without any allegiance to the community or the particular organisation. Other organisations that could build the political consciousness of their constituency members, such as survivors of domestic violence, are pressured by laws governing non-profit corporations, and funders, to only provide services. And when service providers do go out and advocate on behalf of such individuals, they do not engage and empower constituency members to do self-advocacy work. The main sources of such social control are funders, both public and private. In the United States, a non-profit organisation that wants to receive tax-deductible donations (called a 501(c)(3) designation by the US Internal Revenue Service) is severely restricted in its political activity and risks its tax-exempt status if it advocates on specific legislative

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or ballot issues. And while social action groups can receive a 501(c)(4) designation, they cannot receive tax-deductible donations and most private foundations will not consider them for grants. It is important to understand that such foundations, first and foremost, are built on money that was extracted as profit. Corporations extract profit by not paying workers for the total value of what they produce, which impoverishes the workers and leads to various social problems (Marx, 1999 (1887); Lynch, 1988). Then individual owners, shareholders, and mangers who pocket the profits establish philanthropic foundations to shelter the money so they don’t have to pay taxes on them. There is a weak legal requirement that forces the foundation to give away a small percentage of the earnings made by investing those profits, but foundations are given wide latitude in choosing how to distribute those funds. Essentially, capitalists take money from the workers, invest it, and then distribute a small proportion of the earnings to organisations that can manage the worst social problems caused by the system to begin with. The problem is that capitalists need organisations that are willing to use the funding for social control through the provision of ameliorative services rather than for social change mobilisations. Organisations that emphasise participatory democracy and constituent empowerment could threaten the entire system. So the philanthropic foundation sector instead targets those community organisations that act like corporations. Such organisations have a hierarchical structure, a social status separation between organisation staff and constituency members who are labelled ‘clients’, ‘recipients’, or ‘consumers’, and organisational cultures focused on good accounting practices. The foundations then provide funding and technical support to maintain those organisations in their own image and for their own purposes (INCITE!, 2007). The Center for Non-profit Resources (2005), a project of the Toledo Community Foundation, built on models promoted across the country, emphasises standard hierarchical forms of governance and financial management in its training programmes, not advocacy and social change. And many foundation officials and staff do this without necessarily any deep conspiratorial thinking. They have simply ‘bought into’ the existing system, believe it is functioning well, and they are convinced that social problems will be better managed if the non-profits managing them look and act more like corporations. Regardless of the motives, the result is a community capacity building system that actually undermines both community and capacity. As community members are defined and treated as individual recipients rather than people with a common stake who need to be organised,

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they are kept isolated and disempowered. And as the non-profit organisations that are complicit in the structure and process of disempowerment submit to capitalist-led definitions of what an effective organisation should act like and look like, their capacity for anything other than minor service provision to individual recipients is actually reduced.

Different consequences, or just different causes? To better understand the problems associated with community capacity building as practised within the United States of America, it is useful to contrast this US model of capacity building with a typology of community capacity building found outside of the United States. In contrast to the critique of capacity building based on the view that capacity building is a subtle form of state-based manipulation which is found in other Western countries (see Mowbray, 2005), in the United States the concern is that community capacity building is a form of capitalist social control. But how do these compare? A comprehensive answer to this question will have to wait for further research, but for now we can build some comparative models. The first comparison between a non-US typology and US models of community capacity building focuses on their differing levels of analysis. Non-US models focus on communities – usually geographicallybased collectivities that may have many organised groups both formal and informal. US models of community capacity building focus almost exclusively on community development and service organisations – which are often only a subset of the many organisations in a community. The second comparison is that non-US community capacity building typologies seem to have a more explicit and perhaps even transparent policy agenda than the US model. The US model, in contrast, tries to present itself as an ideology-free technocratic approach. But its bias toward building the capacity of organisations to act like hierarchical for-profits rather than participatory democratic community organisations betrays its hidden ideology. The question to ask of non-US typologies, however, is whether they too are ultimately promoting capitalist models of community capacity. Theories of the capitalist state (O’Connor, 1973; Offe, 1984) would argue that all governments operating in capitalist contexts and attempting to maintain some form of democratic structure are caught between their impulses toward democracy and the reality that capitalists hold a degree of veto power over the implementation of democracy. One need only consider the 2009 capitalist withdrawal from global credit markets as

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capitalists refused to invest in government-supported priorities. Capital also moves freely (and instantly) across the globe in search of the fewest regulations, ultimately able to then reduce the regulatory powers of multiple governments simultaneously. Governments then increasingly adopt capitalist policy priorities in all the things they do. In the end then, even though community capacity building might be community-focused and state-led in the international model, and organisation-focused and corporate-led in the US model, the consequences may be similar. What may be different is the strategy for countering those two forms of community capacity building. In the non-US typology, the struggle for shaping community capacity building may locate itself within the state, while the struggle for shaping US community capacity building may locate itself outside the state. It is in this difference where we see the continuing, and perhaps even increasing, importance of community organising.

A different response – Community organising The United States has stood out, until relatively recently, in the number of people practising a form of civic engagement called community organising. While some would argue that community organising has been part of the practice of civic engagement since at least the American revolutionary war, it really gets its start through the work of Saul Alinsky (1969, 1971) in the 1930s. Alinsky’s work in the ‘Back of the Yards’ neighbourhood of Chicago at the time was built around the premise that it would be possible to organise people at the neighbourhood level in a similar way to how union organisers organised people at the workplace level. The Back of the Yards neighbourhood, at the time, was an immigrant slum that lacked adequate sanitary and other services and was ignored by city government. Alinsky believed that the solution to the problems of the community was for the residents to form a community organisation that could lobby city hall for better treatment. And the success of Back of the Yards Neighborhood Council seemed to prove him right. His experience in Chicago then propelled him across the country, building community-based power groups from coast to coast (Horwitt, 1989). The 1950s also saw the rise of the African American-led Civil Rights movement. And while it has been portrayed as a national movement, its fabric was woven by local actions. We in fact know the Civil Rights Movement by its places – Montgomery, Selma, Greensboro, and many others (Morris, 1984). In particular, the organising models built through

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the work of Ella Baker and the Student Non-violent Coordinating Committee, the Freedom Schools, and voter registration drives, showed how to build the strong community relationships necessary to sustain people through threat of jail and death as they worked for simple equality (Ransby, 2003). Today, there are US national networks of community organising groups formed through the Industrial Areas Foundation (IAF), the PICO National Network, the Direct Action Research and Training (DART), Gamaliel, the Association of Community Organizations for Reform Now (ACORN), National People’s Action (NPA), and many others. Most of those networks trace their roots to Alinsky. But ACORN in particular also has strong Civil Rights movement links. And the influence of these community organising models is spreading across the globe, as US-style capitalism pressures welfare states everywhere to self-destruct and ordinary people are forced to fend for themselves as they fall through increasingly tattered safety nets (Stoecker, 2009). What is it about community organising that makes it so relevant to societies with weakened welfare states? This is where we must think about a different definition of capacity building. Because as national states shift their emphasis from supporting their members to propping up global capitalism, they renege on the historic social contract that cared for the sick, the infirm, the unemployed, the very old, the very young, and those victimised by natural and man-made disasters. In such cases, the only alternative is for people to rely on each other. Such mutual self-help would be laudable and even desirable under conditions of simple scarcity, where a lack of basic necessities for all members of the society required a collective contract. In such cases, an uncomplicated community development model of bringing people together to pool their talents and resources to gain the most efficient community outcomes is needed. But when such scarcity is part of a strategy by capitalists to shift wealth and power upward into the hands of fewer and fewer ruling class members, and is supported by a state structure that not only no longer provides for the common good but, in fact, restricts the people’s ability to prevent such exploitation and oppression to the point where suffering increases rather than decreases, much more is needed. So while strong welfare states are able to absorb social unrest by expanding services as needed, and create a national focus, weak welfare states allow social unrest to fester and allow it to be expressed in diverse ways across locales. Like community development, then, community organising begins in and focuses on the local – the neighbourhood, the village, the regional rural network. It even has some common starting points with progressive

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approaches to community development. Those commonalities include starting with a community-generated problem and developing a solution informed by the people effected (Community Development Society, 2008). But then community organising diverges. Community development – including approaches such as consensus organising, community building, and others that attempt to masquerade as community organising – focuses on solving particular problems and then moves on (Stoecker, 2003). But community organising focuses on building community power. That is, it focuses on building the community’s capacity to impact the policies and practices of states and corporations that have hindered the community’s development (Stoecker, 2009).

Community organising as capacity building What does it mean to build community capacity through community organising? We must start by first understanding how community organising works. In its simplest form, community organising begins with the community organiser. The best community organisers are a special group. In contrast to the issue-based activist who chooses an issue and then recruits people to join the effort, the community organiser recruits people and then they collectively choose the issue. It is a unique process. When an organiser enters the community she or he gets to know people, for example by building relationships at coffee shops, bars, and elsewhere. The organiser also often goes out knocking on doors in the community to get to know people – finding out what people like about the community, what they dislike, what they want to change and what they want to defend. A good organiser will then get a sense of what kinds of things people are willing to devote their time to changing. The goal however, is not just to gather a group of people to tackle a community issue. It is, much more importantly, to use that issue to build a strong community organisation that can take on multiple issues and become a power player in policy at all levels of the state. Such a goal also has consequences for the community organiser, and is why most people think of community organisers as distinct from community leaders. The role of the community organiser is not to choose the issues to work on, and not even to lead people into battle. In fact, one of the community organiser’s most important tasks is to build leadership skills among the members of the community. So when the community group is out picketing the local slumlord and the TV news show up, it is the community leaders’ job, not the organiser’s, to do the interview.

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These qualities are what make community organising a capacity building model more than a political model. Community organising has historically been politically neither left nor right, but populist – based in a belief in the wisdom of people coming together to collectively manage their own community affairs. There is a distrust of both big government and big business as not representing the interests of the people. By building people power at the grassroots level, community organisers build people’s capacity to solve problems caused by bureaucratised elites. The principle underlying this approach is for the organiser to do such a good job that they can then leave, after which the community will maintain its organisation and continue the organising work on its own. That rarely happens, but even when the organiser continues working in the neighbourhood there are signs of such independent capacity. One evening in the Lagrange neighbourhood of Toledo, Ohio, there was a shooting outside a bar. It was quite close to the apartment of the community organiser for the Lagrange Village Council, the neighbourhood’s community organisation. The organiser quickly packed his children up that night and took them out of the neighbourhood. Without their organiser to guide them, the Village Council sprang into action, picketing the bar, working their connections downtown, using the media, and in short order they had the bar closed down. Such community power building is a very different form of community capacity building. It is not focused on any specific substantive goals, but instead is concerned with the concept of power overall. It is not focused on building particular marketplace skills, but on growing community skills. Capacity, from the perspective of community organising, is the ability to build relationships among neighbours, identify issues, understand the causes and consequences of unequal power structures, bring people together to make collective decisions, design and carry out actions to change those unequal structures, and negotiate with elites for changes in policies and practices. When a community has these capacities, it is no longer dependent on weak welfare states and strong corporations because community members can hold both accountable. Even while the model emphasises the local, it occasionally builds into much larger consequences. Such was the case of the Civil Rights Movement, as well as the national movement to establish the Community Reinvestment Act, or CRA, in the United States. The CRA was the consequence of the initial organising efforts of a few neighbourhood residents who realised in the 1960s that banks were refusing to make loans in their neighbourhoods – a practice called redlining. It was in fact a widespread

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banking practice, but was being done quietly in inner city neighbourhoods across the US until people in those neighbourhoods started talking with each other, and then with people in other similar neighbourhoods in their city, and then to people in other similar neighbourhoods across the country. They had to build their capacity to document the extent of redlining, coordinate with neighbourhood groups across the country, and lobby for legislation. The result was federal policy regulating banks that produced at least $1 trillion in investments in neighbourhoods that otherwise would have been shut out of the loan pool (Squires, 2003). When previously excluded communities have the capacity to define their own problems, understand their causes and press for changes in the policies and practices of governments and corporations to address those problems, a power change is afoot. Communities with such capacity shift their political capacity to go from being victims to players in the game of power. They shift the political landscape as they pressure decision-makers to take the community’s demands into account. Communities with such capacity have the power to exact costs on decision-makers who ignore them – by organising both positive pressure and negative pressure. They behave, like Saul Alinsky hoped, as a kind of community union that can withhold their collective resources and, if nothing else, their collective compliance, until they gain the concessions they demand.

Comparing the models What do we learn when we put the corporate-bureaucratic-professional organisational community capacity building model side by side with the populist community organising model? How do both compare to the non-US typology? The two US models could not be more different. On the one hand we have a model premised on the assumption that the best community organisation is one that looks and acts like a corporation – where balancing the books is prioritised over engaging members of the community. The model emphasises anti-democratic hierarchies, often led by handpicked boards and non-elected executive directors. Such organisations are the essence of what historical social movement analysts point to as examples of the iron law of oligarchy (Michels, 2001[1916]). The iron law asserts that as organisations become stable, they become more concerned with their own survival than with the promotion of the (activist) mission that built them. And as they become more concerned with such organisational maintenance, they compromise those parts of their mission that are the most risky, which are usually the parts of their mission that are the most activist.

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This organisational community capacity building model actually skips right over the steps of building a movement and goes right to building a classic oligarchic organisation that serves to prevent rather than propel social change. It is an ingenious act of hegemonic social control. If poor and excluded communities have only professionalised organisations available to them, then provider-client inequality and the social dependency that comes with it can be maintained. In skipping over social movement building, the organisational community capacity building model also skips over the actual community. Based in a service provision model, the connection between the community and the organisation is neither problematised nor theorised. Not asked are questions such as the kinds of organisations needed in different kinds of communities, the relationship between organisational capacity and community capacity, and the role of the organisation in maintaining social order versus promoting social change. The question then becomes one of whether the organisational community capacity building model is about capacity building at all or is simply about organisational development. In contrast, the community organising model is not noted as a capacity building model in the United States itself, but is cited under the definition of the non-US typology (McGinty, 2002). However, it provides a much truer definition of the concept, because it is focused on the community beyond the organisation. It does not neglect the organisational focus, but considers the organisation as the expression of an organised constituency, run democratically by its membership, and making decisions through a democratic community-based process. Many community organising groups start their decision-making and organisation-building processes at the level of the house-meeting, where just a few members of a block gather, and build up to large annual meetings where sometimes hundreds of people gather to determine issues, form working groups, and start tackling issues. The focus is on building the capacity of the community residents rather than focusing on a few organisation staff or leaders to develop specialised skills. Given that the emphasis of the community organising model of community capacity building is on building the capacity of community residents to solve their problems outside of – and even against – the interests of capital and the state, it is no wonder that corporations and state managers castigate it (as did the Republicans during their 2008 US presidential nominating convention), ignore it, or attempt to replace it with a safer organisational development model. Does the same analysis hold true in comparison to international models? It is true that community organising adopts the comprehensive

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scope of many of the international models, but it differs in two important ways. First, it is explicitly political, even if it is not explicitly ideological. It constructs community development as a consequence of changed power structures and policies. Second, in the community organising model the outside organiser’s job is to build self-sufficient community-based expertise that can facilitate the community to choose its own issues and chart its own development course. This contrasts with the sometimes paternalistic programmes designed by state managers who erroneously assume they know better than poor communities (Federation for Community Development Learning, 2004). State managers have their own interests in keeping order and their desire to fit previously excluded communities into the existing political-economic fabric is in some ways no different than the managers of capital. It may be then, that only the community organising model of community capacity building actually builds community capacity for community-controlled development. In the United States it is the only one that starts from the belief that communities should be autonomous, self-determining, and even self-sufficient to some extent. It is important to understand, however, that does not make the model isolationist. In fact, Saul Alinsky’s theory was that such communities would be shut out from the broader political process until they had organised themselves as an independent political force. It is true that some groups can take that too far. Even the Back of the Yards neighbourhood became racist and exclusionary as it succumbed to the iron law of oligarchy (The Progress Report, 1972), but that is partly because other groups were not organised enough to challenge it. Importantly, a new generation of community organisers now think more carefully about how to build participatory values into community organising (Sen, 2003) in hopes of preventing such problems.

The future of community capacity building What is the future of community capacity building in the United States? Perhaps most importantly, for the first time in the country’s history we have a president trained as a community organiser. Many would argue that he was elected because community organisers fought off right-wing attempts to disenfranchise voters across the country in 2008 (Stoecker, 2009; Dreier 2008). Interest in community organising on college campuses appears to be growing (Rimer, 2009), and higher education programmes in community organising are expanding for the first time in decades (Stoecker, 2009b).

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At the same time, the challenges presented by the 2008–2009 economic collapse are eliciting neither an analysis nor a reaction that indicates that the broader population or the community organiser president understands the fundamentally exploitive and self-destructive core of a capitalist economy. So while major cash payments go to corporations in exchange for only minor regulatory concessions, those left unemployed, impoverished, and homeless will turn to their neighbours and their local community organisations. Will they find neighbours with the capacity to build the movement necessary to create a democratic economy? Will they find capacity building community organisers who can help them build the organisations and networks necessary to support the movement? Or will they find only the organisations who can supply the trickle of food, the training to complete the unemployment paperwork, and the therapeutic services to temporarily relieve the stress caused by the capitalist trashing of the economy? In the end, the question is, whose capacity, and which capacity, will we build?

References Alinsky, S. (1969) Reveille for Radicals. New York: Vintage. Alinsky, S. (1971) Rules for Radicals. New York: Vintage. Austin, M. J. and Betten, N. (1990) ‘Rural organising and the agricultural extension service’, in N. Betten and M. J. Austin (eds), The Roots of Community Organising: 1917–1939, pp. 94–105. Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Center for Non-profit Resources (2005) http://www.c4npr.org Charles Schwab Corporation (2006) ‘Announcement: Application period open for Charles Schwab Bank community development capacity building grant’. Retrieved on 5–1–08 from: http://www.businesswire.com/news/schwab/=20070919005807/en Charles Stuart Mott Foundation (2008) ‘Community development unit – Capacity building for the Eastern Cape’. Retrieved on 5–1–08 from: http://www.mott.org/ sitecore/content/Globals/Grants/2007/200000158_04_Community%20Develop ment%20Unit%20%20Capacity%20Building%20for%20the%20Eastern%20Cap e.aspx?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=Grants%20Search Chaskin, R. J., Brown, P., Venkatesh, S. and Vidal, A. (2001) Building Community Capacity. New York: A. de Gruyter. Community Development Society (2008) Retrieved on 9–30–08 from: http://www. comm-dev.org/ Dreier, P. (2008) ‘Did the GOP attack on community organising backfire?’, Rooflines. http://www.rooflines.org/1123/did_the_gop_attack_on_community_organising_ backfire/ Eichler, M. (2007) Consensus Organising: Building Communities of Mutual SelfInterest. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications. Federation for Community Development Learning (2004) ‘Building civil renewal: A review of government support for community capacity building and

226 Capacity Building and Community Power proposals for change’. Retrieved on 5–1–08 from: http://www.fcdl.org.uk/ policy/documents/fcdl_response_to_ccb_review.doc Fettig, L. S. (2007) The ABCs of Development: It’s About Building Capacity. Bloomington, IN: AuthorHouse. Gittell, R. and Vidal, A. (1998) Community Organising: Building Social Capital as a Development Strategy. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications. Greenberg, D. (2005) ‘Ricanne Hadrian initiative for community organising documentation and evaluation report’. Retrieved on 5–1–08 from: http:// www. macdc.org/uploads/hw/Hq/hwHqqovPQ-xsu9v6mUKXdA/RHICO_2002-4_ Documentation_Report.pdf Hwang, H. (2006) ‘Professionalisation of non-profit management’, paper presented at the annual meeting of the American Sociological Association, Montreal Convention Center, Montreal, Quebec, Canada, August 10, 2006. Horwitt, S. D. (1989) Let Them Call Me Rebel: Saul Alinsky, His Life and Legacy. New York: Knopf. INCITE! Women of Color Against Violence (ed.) (2007) The Revolution Will Not Be Funded: Beyond the Non-Profit Industrial Complex. Boston: South End Press. Jones, C. E. (ed.) (1998) The Black Panther Party Reconsidered. Baltimore, MD: Black Classic Press. Lemann, N. (1988) ‘The unfinished war’, The Atlantic Monthly, 262(6): 37–56. Liou, Y. T. and Stroh, R. C. (1998) ‘Community development intermediary systems in the United States: Origins, evolution, and functions’, Housing Policy Debate, 9(3): 575–594. Retrieved on 5–1–08 from: http://www.mi.vt.edu/data/files/ hpd%209(3)/hpd%209(3)_liou.pdf Lynch, M. J. (1988) ‘The extraction of surplus value, crime and punishment: A preliminary examination’, Crime, Law and Social Change, 12(4): 329–344. Majone, G. (1984) ‘Professionalism and non-profit organisations’, Journal of Health Politics, Policy and Law, 8(4): 639–659. Retrieved on 5–1–08 from: http://jhppl.dukejournals.org/cgi/reprint/8/4/639.pdf Marx, K. (1999)[1887] Capital: Volume 1. Marx/Engels Internet Archive. Retrieved on 5–1–08 from: http://www.marx.org/archive/marx/works/1867-c1/. McGinty, S. (2002) ‘Community capacity building’. A paper presented at the Australian Association for Research in Education Conference, Brisbane. Retrieved on 5–1–08 from: http://www.aare.edu.au/02pap/mcg02476.htm Michels R. (2001)[1916] Political Parties: A Sociological Study of the Oligarchical Tendencies of Modern Democracy. Translator: Eden and Cedar Paul. London: Jarrold & sons. Electronic Text Center, University of Virginia Library. Retrieved on 5–1–08 from: http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/etcbin/toccer-new2?id=MicPoli. sgm&images=images/modeng&data=/texts/english/modeng/parsed&tag=public &part=teiHeader Morris, A. (1984) The Origins of the Civil Rights Movement. New York: The Free Press. Mowbray, M. (2005) ‘Community capacity building or state opportunism?’, Community Development Journal, 40: 255–264. Murphy, J. and Thomas, B. (2005) ‘The role of business in community capacity building: An alternative approach’. Retrieved on 5–1–08 from: http://www. communitybuilders.nsw.gov.au/finding_funds/accessing/c_cap_bldg.html O’Connor, J. R. (1973) The Fiscal Crisis of the State. New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

Randy Stoecker 227 Offe, C. (1984) Contradictions of the Welfare State. London: Hutchinson. Office of Community Services (2009) ‘Capacity building toolkits for faith-based and community organisations’, Administration for Children and Families. Retrieved on 5–1–08 from: http://www.acf.hhs.gov/programmes/ocs/ccf/resources/toolkit. html Piven, F. F. and Cloward, R. M. (1978) Poor People’s Movements: Why They Succeed, How They Fail. New York: Vintage. Public Health Agency of Canada (2008) ‘The community capacity building tool’. Retrieved on 5–1–08 from: http://www.atlantique.phac.gc.ca/canada/regions/abnwt-tno/downloads-eng.php Ransby, B. (2003) Ella Baker and the Black Freedom Movement: A Radical Democratic Vision, New edition. University of North Carolina Press. Regional Housing and Community Development Alliance. (2008) Retrieved on 5–1–08 from: http://www.rhcda.com/Capacity.html Rimer, S. (2009) ‘Community organising never looked so good’, New York Times, April 10. Retrieved on 5–1–08 from: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/12/ fashion/12organiser.html?ref=style Sanders, H. C., Arbour, M. B., Bourg, T., Clark, R. C., Frutchey, F. P. and Jones, Jr. J. H. (eds) (1966) The Cooperative Extension Service. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall, Inc. Sen, R. (2003) Stir It Up: Lessons in Community Organising and Advocacy. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Squires, G. D. (ed.) (2003) Organising Access to Capital. Philadelphia: Temple University Press. St Luke’s Episcopal Health Charities (2009) ‘About the toolkit’. Retrieved on 5–1–08 from: http://www.slehc.org/Toolkit/Index.cfm Stoecker, R. (2009) ‘Community organising and social change’, Contexts Magazine, Winter, 20–25. Stoecker, R. (ed.) (2009b) ‘CO & CD higher ed programs’, COMM-ORG: The online conference on community organizing. Retrieved on 5–1–08 from: http://comm-org.wisc.edu/highered.htm Stoecker, R. (2003) ‘Understanding the development-organising dialectic’, Journal of Urban Affairs, 25: 493–512. Stoecker, R. (1997) ‘The community development corporation model of urban redevelopment: A critique and an alternative’, Journal of Urban Affairs, 19: 1–23. The Progress Report (1972) Interview with Saul Alinsky. Retrieved on 5–1–08 from: http://www.progress.org/2003/alinsky2.htm Tocqueville, A. de (1997)[1889] Democracy in America. From the Henry Reeve Translation, Colophon. Retrieved on 5–1–08 from: http://xroads.virginia.edu/~HYPER/ DETOC/colophon.html US Department of Housing and Urban Development (2009) ‘Section 4: Capacity building for affordable housing and community development grants’ (14.252). Retrieved on 5–1–08 from: http://nhl.gov/offices/cpd/about/capacitybuilding.cfm Unitarian Universalist Partner Church Council (2006) ‘Community capacity building’. Retrieved on 5–1–08 from: http://www.uupcc.org/communitydev/CCB.pdf United Nations Development Programme (n.d.) ‘Supporting capacity development’. Retrieved on 5–1–08 from: http://www.undp.org/capacity/.

228 Capacity Building and Community Power Virginia Department of Housing and Community Development (n.d.) Retrieved on 5–1–08 from: http://www.dhcd.virginia.gov/CommunityCapacityBuilding/ Office_ Of_Community_Capacity_Building.htm Yin, J. (1998) ‘The community development industry system: A case study of politics and institutions in Cleveland, 1967–1997’, Journal of Urban Affairs, 20(2): 137–157.

11 Transition Towns and Community Capacity Building Phil Connors

Introduction The term capacity building has become part of the community development lexicon in a seemingly short space of time. From being virtually unheard of in the early 1990s it had become mainstream policy for many governments by the time of the New Labour victory in England in 1997 (Craig, 2007). As policy language it has permeated public and social policy discourses and become the preferred government language for community service delivery. Much of the capacity building discourse has been driven by governments that are keen to build active citizenship through participation and engagement and provide resources to this end but are reluctant to allow community ownership of those same resources (Craig, 2007). Community capacity building has also influenced the practice of community development. Government funded community development has promoted the adoption of the language and practice of community capacity building into community development with practice now focused on building participation through community engagement and using this to build community capacity. This is particularly the case in local regeneration initiatives such as Neighbourhood Renewal and similar programmes that are built around government policy and make pretence of community ownership (Diamond, 2004). Programmes such as these are substantially about service provision and less about genuine community development resulting in ownership and control of community resources. There is much discussion about community capacity building as government exercise and a great deal of the critique is directed at the top-down nature of this understanding (Craig, 2007; Diamond, 2004; 229

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Mowbray, 2005). It is relatively straight forward to identify how government interventions in the name of capacity building are inevitably imposed on, so-called, disadvantaged communities that are identified as lacking capacity, however this is defined. The more challenging aspect to this discussion is to look at community-based capacity building initiatives that are ostensibly driven from the bottom-up, use the language of capacity building and arguably contain some of the same limitations. One of these initiatives is the Transition Town (TT) movement. This chapter explores the links between the TT movement and community capacity building (CCB) and provides a critical engagement with the nature of community-based initiatives that are designed to build community capacity. The chapter introduces the concept of the Transition Town movement and its underlying principles. It then engages with the community capacity building literature in relation to community development and looks at the TT movement through this lens. Particular attention is given to aspects of governance, leadership, recognition of prior capacity and ownership of process, all relevant issues in the capacity building discourse. Examples from TT initiatives in Australia and England are used to illustrate this discussion. This leads to a critique outlining the strengths and limitations of community capacity building in the TT movement and the implications of this for communities and the movement. The conclusion offers some insights into possible ways to build on the strengths of the movement while minimising the limitations.

Background Issues of climate change, environmental degradation and Peak Oil (Brown, 2008) have spawned a myriad of responses aimed at ameliorating the immediate and long-term effects including promoting the necessity of a low-energy, minimally polluting future. At a macro level, those advocating a ‘Green New Deal’ (New Economics Foundation, 2008) argue for economic stimulus packages to help build green economies that facilitate a transition to renewable energy sources, green collar jobs and social enterprises. Climate groups are advocating governments to develop meaningful responses through setting targets for renewable energy production, reducing or eliminating the destruction of forests, returning environmental flows to overexploited rivers, and to generally decrease the impact of human development on the resources of the planet. Economies around the world are exploring how to factor in carbon pollution reduction schemes or other forms of carbon trading. The difficulties faced by gov-

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ernments in this regard were highlighted by the lack of any meaningful outcome from the United Nations Climate Change Meeting in Copenhagen in December 2009. From a community development perspective there is recognition that all of this must be underpinned by principles of social justice and human rights. At the micro level there are advocates for various technological fixes and single-issue groups advocating more recycling, more efficient water use or bicycle paths as a means of achieving a more sustainable future. Within all of this there are movements arguing the case for a more enriching, rewarding life in a sustainable low-energy future based on building resilient communities and they are gaining widespread support in the minority world. One of these movements holds out the promise of individuals, local organisations and communities playing a key role in adapting the place where we live to that future. We don’t have to depend on external forces and politicians to make the decisions and plans; it is possible to take collective action towards change through the processes outlined in the Transition Town (TT) movement.

Transition Town movement The Transition Town concept started life as a student project in Kinsale, Ireland in 2005, where co-founder Rob Hopkins was employed as a Permaculture teacher at the Kinsale Further Education College. A project undertaken by the students at this time was the development of an energy descent plan for the village of Kinsale (Brangwin and Hopkins, 2008). The energy descent plan was designed to detail ‘a graceful descent from Kinsale’s current peak of oil consumption’ (Carlson, 2008). The village Council in Kinsale adopted the idea and this formed the prototype for Transition Town Totnes (TTT), Devon, England when Hopkins moved to the area after leaving Ireland. Totnes achieved the status of the ‘first official TT’ in 2006 (Hopkins, 2008a). By March 2010 this has since expanded to 278 towns, cities, villages and communities across fourteen countries with numbers increasing rapidly (TT Wiki http://transitiontowns.org/TransitionNetwork/TransitionNetwork). Hopkins (2009) explains the movement as a head, heart and hands concept with the head referring to the conceptual understandings that underpin the heart or vision of change that is possible and required, which in turn informs the hands or actions for building local resilience. What is missing from this is a space for reflection and feedback to the process and, as will be seen later in this discussion, is something that is lacking.

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Head The head or concepts are based on understandings of peak oil and climate change. Oil production and consumption has provided the abundant energy that has fuelled global production especially over the last century but indicators suggest that this resource has peaked, or is about to, depending on the pundit being asked (Heinberg, 2007). Production profiles indicate that there will be a steady decline in global oil resources, increasing over time, at a period when there is an increasing demand driven by minority world countries maintaining their carbon rich life styles and newly developing countries such as China and India increasing their demand for sources of energy to drive economic growth (Brown, 2008). This will increase the price of oil dramatically and threaten the basis of all economies and lives particularly in the minority world in a multitude of ways (Hopkins, 2009). Climate change has achieved a higher profile than peak oil in the community because of the visible changes to weather patterns and increased incidents of severe weather events. This is largely attributed to the increased concentrations of green house gasses in the atmosphere, caused by the burning of fossil fuels (Pittock, 2005). While there is still some scepticism as to the veracity of the science there is an overwhelming acceptance within the scientific and broader communities that climate change is real and will increasingly impact on people and communities. Combined these two concepts form the intellectual basis for the TT movement and provide the impetus for developing a vision for building more resilient communities that are better able to cope with the potential changes that are ahead, this is the heart of the movement. Heart The importance of developing a positive vision is central to the TT movement but is also common in community development and community capacity building. The visioning process enables people to move beyond the fear and feelings of impotence that can occur as the full extent of climate change and peak oil are contemplated; it enables individuals and communities to identify their current capacities and strengths and to use these as a springboard for achieving the resilience that will be required in the future (Chamberlin, 2009; Hopkins, 2009). This is very similar to the strengths-based approaches in community development such as Asset Based Community Development (ABCD) (McKnight and Kretzmann, 2005; Mathie and Cunningham, 2003) and community capacity building (Chaskin et al., 2001; Kelly and Caputo, 2006 and Lavarack and Thangphet, 2009) that work on similar principles.

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The other aspect to the heart concept is developing an understanding of change and what this means for the individual and community. In this way it is possible to explore alternative futures and actively seek out those that are most likely to be achieved given the current capacities, skills and knowledge available in the community while identifying the gaps and how to leverage current capacities and assets to fill them (Chamberlin, 2009; Hopkins, 2009). The harnessing of a positive vision provides the foundation for the action component or hands of the concept. Hands The action or hands component of the process is where there is a close relationship to community development and community capacity building practice. There are three components to this stage of the process, the philosophical foundations, the six guiding principles and the ideal scale or size of the community involved (Chamberlin, 2009; Hopkins, 2009). The philosophical foundations of the TT movement are drawn from Permaculture which has three core principles, care of the earth, care of people and distribution of surplus (Holmgren, 2002; Mollison, 1988). Essentially Permaculture is a holistic understanding developed in Tasmania in the 1970s that expanded a set of agricultural techniques and principles of social organisation conducive to small-scale sustainability into a complete philosophy of life. There are people who have devoted their lives to studying, practising and promoting the principles and practices of Permaculture. There are millions of others who incorporate some Permaculture principles and practices in planning their gardens or properties, but are ignorant of or unaware of the other aspects of the Permaculture principles. However there has been a trend towards focusing on individual aspects of Permaculture, such as the design and agricultural principles, with less attention being paid to the collective aspects such as building local economies and strengthening social networks. To adherents, the practices work and have achieved the status of common sense, but there is no doubt that Permaculture means different things to different people (Connors and McDonald, 2010). While it is not possible in the space of this chapter to fully explore Permaculture in all its complexity there is a plethora of books on the subject with the most encompassing being those of the founders, Bill Mollison and David Holmgren. The TT movement has taken the Permaculture philosophy and used it as the basis of a model to achieve resilient self-sufficient communities. This equates with the stated principles espoused in the community

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capacity building literature discussed below. From the Permaculture philosophy the TT movement has developed six principles that underpin the whole concept. The principles are visioning; inclusion; awareness-raising; resilience; psychological insights; credible and appropriate solutions (Hopkins, 2009) all of which would not be out of place in any discussion on community development or community capacity building. Overall the focus is on building a broad participatory base in a community that raises awareness of the concepts that inform the movement. From this participants then work on constructing a vision for the future that is focused on building the resilience of the community socially, economically, psychologically and practically through the development of appropriate actions that fit the particular context of the community involved. This is classic community development in practice with the only thing missing being a strong understanding of social justice, human rights and critical reflection embedded in the discourse (Craig, 2007; Ife and Tesoriero, 2006; Kenny, 2006). The key difference of the TT movement is it is only focused on one conceptualisation of community being geographical. Designed around building local resilience other manifestations of community may be apparent within the geographical boundaries but are not the focus of the movement. This also informs the third concept of the movement being scale or ideal size of the communities in which to develop Transition Town initiatives. The preference is for relatively small scale communities, English market towns or equivalent are identified as the ideal sites for situating a transition town (Hopkins, 2009). The idea is based on human scale development principles (Max-Neef, 1991) where participation is maximised when there is a relational bond between the people involved. To this end Hopkins (2009) indicates that in cities and areas of higher density populations the ideal size for the implementation of a TT is approximately 5000 people but it is clear that this is only a guide and that each initiative will develop its own equilibrium over time. This is an outline of the processes involved in the Transition Town movement and hopefully it has captured the essence of the concept. The potential links to community development and community capacity building are clear and these will be explored in detail using examples from existing TT initiatives later in the chapter. The following section is a brief review of the literature on community development and capacity building, with a particular focus on community capacity building.

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Capacity building Capacity building is a relatively new term in development vernacular. Originally used in relation to how organisations could support capacity building around the early 1990s it quickly took on participatory understandings which became known as community capacity building (Craig, 2007). According to Kenny (2007:209) ‘capacity building refers to specific approaches, strategies and methodologies used for the purpose of improving the performance of individuals, communities, community organisations and countries to carry out particular functions’. This is supported by James who defines capacity building as ‘an ongoing process of helping people, organizations and societies improve and adapt to changes around them’ (James, 2002:6). Increasingly over the last few years, community, social and economic development programmes have emphasised sustainability. In this regard capacity building has been considered of particular importance in highlighting opportunities and priorities for development (Victurine, 2000). Kenny (2007) makes the point that capacity building can be understood in different ways, either as a process or means or as an outcome or end. As a process capacity building focuses on building the skills and knowledge of individuals and groups to enable them to improve their lives. As an outcome it is aimed at building the abilities of a community to a level where they feel they can have more control over their lives (Kenny, 2007). Furthermore the implementation of these understandings can be either top-down or bottom-up as well as being exogenous or endogenous change (Kenny, 2007). These are important distinctions because they raise the issue of ownership of the identification of the need and of the process of meeting that need. A top-down ends focused capacity building programme developed and implemented by an exogenous organisation will be less likely to be owned and controlled by the community. On the other hand a bottom-up process focused project that is endogenously organised and facilitated is going to provide the best possible context for local ownership, capacity building as community development (Kenny, 2007). While these examples are polar opposites there are many permutations that can enhance or limit the potential for sustainable outcomes of capacity building projects. Indeed if a group, organisation, community, or nation is not able to identify and develop initiatives that are located in their own context and built around clear understandings of their strengths and capacities then external forces will have a greater role in determining the future (McCall, 2003). The increased emphasis on

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participation in social and economic development has influenced capacity building discourse with the change issuing in more participatory models of capacity building understood as community capacity building (CCB). Rather than having a focus on organisations or nations CCB is targeted directly at building the strengths and capabilities of communities.

Community capacity building and community development There is some debate as to how the understanding of community capacity building (CCB) differs from that of community development. Research looking at the similarities and differences of CCB and community development covering six neighbourhoods in the UK concluded that overall community development could be argued to be a more encompassing term but, those workers identified as capacity builders were essentially undertaking community development roles (Humm, 2005 cited in Craig, 2007). There has always been a multitude of understandings in relation to defining community development. Community is a nebulous concept that has a different meaning for everyone depending on understanding and experience, from geographic parameters to communities of interest and intentional communities (Kelly and Sewell, 1988). Development also has a variety of meanings and can refer to either process or objectives (Kenny, 2006). The International Association of Community Development (IACD) adopted the Budapest Declaration in 2004 which states: Community development is a way of strengthening civil society by prioritising the actions of communities, and their perspectives in the development of social, economic and environmental policy. It seeks the empowerment of local communities, taken to mean both geographical communities, communities of interest or identity and communities organising around specific themes or policy initiatives. It strengthens the capacity of people as active citizens through their community groups, organisations and networks; and the capacity of institutions and agencies…to work in dialogue with citizens to shape and determine change in their communities. It plays a crucial role in supporting democratic life by promoting the autonomous voice of disadvantaged and vulnerable communities (Craig, 2007:339–340). It is clear that an understanding of the capacity of citizens, groups, organisations, institutions and communities has been at the heart of community development since its inception. Indeed community capacity

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building should not be considered anything new by community development workers but more as a distillation of ideas and concepts already found within the literature (Lavarack and Thangphet, 2009). Certainly the definitions of community capacity building reflect the general nature of community development. For instance Poole (cited in Kelly and Caputo, 2006) identifies the purpose of community capacity building being: … to foster conditions that strengthen the characteristics of communities that enable them to plan, develop, implement and maintain effective community programmes (1997:163). Essentially CCB is seen to provide the ground work for community development in that it requires the enlistment of the community’s assets and resources. Community capacity building is a process through which skill development of individuals feeds into the development of strong organisational structures and networks (Lavarack and Thangphet, 2009). Kelly and Caputo (2006) argue that community capacity building is an active pursuit that entails the building of hard (structures) and soft (skills and knowledge) assets that can then be used to build on existing strengths or meet identified community needs. Community capacity building aims to build the knowledge, skills and assets of a community, group or community-based organisation. Essentially CCB is about strengthening the capacity of communities to decide their priorities and to encourage sustainable positive change (Chaskin et al., 2001). With so many similarities it raises the question of why would there need to be a change in language. The key determinant in this change of language is power. Community development by its nature has advocated, encouraged and supported, the voice of communities, particularly those of marginalised communities, so that any programme or project claiming to be community development can be subject to the critical appraisal of those whom are most affected by it. Community development recognises the tensions and potential for conflict in bottom-up development and understands that top-down processes advocated by ‘experts’ are rarely successful because they do not have the same contextual understanding and tend to oversimplify issues and therefore often formulate inappropriate responses (Oxfam, 2004 cited in Craig, 2007). Community development doesn’t have a flawless record of achievement with many so-called community development programmes being thinly veiled excuses for manipulating power by governments and organisations. It appears that community capacity building holds many of the same tensions in relation to outcomes. According to Craig (2007:21)

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‘community capacity building is essentially not a neutral technical process: it is about power and ideology and how these are mediated through structures and processes’. It is clear that community capacity building and community development while ostensibly working towards the same goals are both susceptible to being manipulated by powerful vested interests. While many commentators (Cauchi and Murphy, 2004; Craig, 2007; Diamond, 2004; Kenny, 2006; Mowbray, 2004, 2005; Pitchford and Henderson, 2008) indicate that this is most likely to happen when governments at any level become involved in community development or community capacity building, using the process to impose top-down policy initiated understandings of what is required by communities. While there is some mention of organisations also manipulating power in similar contexts this usually applies to large non-government organisation but can it also be the case with self-identified social movements such as the Transition Town (TT) movement?

Transition Town movement, community capacity building and community development There are a number of particular issues that directly associate the Transition Town movement with community capacity building and community development. These broadly cover the areas of governance, which includes inclusivity, ownership, participation and leadership and; recognition of current capacity, which includes valuing community history. While all of these are in reality integral to each other they will be discussed under headings using particular examples from existing TT initiatives in England and Australia. Governance Issues of ownership and control are central to understandings of community capacity building, community development and the TT movement. Community capacity building should be about endogenous development that is people centred and with a commitment to community ownership of resources and decision-making (Kenny, 2007). The Transition Town movement prides itself on being participatory and inclusive and sees both these as being central to any successful outcome (Chamberlin, 2009; Hopkins, 2008a, 2009). Inclusivity is the identified point of difference to other environmental social movements because it is perceived that through being inclusive of all community members and organisations the movement will be best able to build the cohesive vision of a shared future (Hopkins, 2008b). In fact

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the movement cautions against taking a political stand on issues because it sees this as interfering with the ability of individual TT initiatives to decide what is most applicable in their context (Hopkins, 2009). It is through the building of coalitions across difference that the strongest and most resilient communities will emerge. The inclusive nature of the movement where people from different political persuasions, local business and environmental groups, local government and others can all see a positive vision for a low carbon future has been likened to a prism through which anyone can look and see a rainbow of possibilities (Mooallem, 2009). The TT movement is endeavouring to be everything to everyone and it is from this that much of the current critique has developed. For many community development workers the concept of inclusivity is important but the potential for conflict is also recognised. Conflict and tension are understood as central to the process of working with communities and that it would be naive at best and potentially destructive to ignore the potential for conflict (Kenny, 2006). The other critique of the inclusive nature of the TT movement is that it leaves it more open to cooption by the existing power structures (Chatterton and Cutler, 2008). One of the critical areas for tension is in communities that are already split around resource issues such as forestry or mining or other resource development. The vested interests in such debates would mean the possibility of them coming together and developing a shared vision of the future are virtually non-existent in the current climate. It is not difficult to envisage other issues such as Aboriginal sovereignty, road and infrastructure development, wind farms, planting of genetically modified crops, etc dividing communities just as easily. It will be impossible for TT initiatives to ignore such issues and how they are dealt with could well mean the difference between achieving the resilient communities they seek to form or implosion and irrelevance. In the same way community capacity building and community development initiatives run the same risk if they do not understand and actively engage with the tensions, TT initiatives are arguably going to have to maintain their inclusiveness but not pretend that the commonalities will always overcome the differences in diverse communities. One way of engaging positively with difference is through the development of good governance structures that are participatory, democratic and inclusive. Such structures can provide the means for achieving successful outcomes with diverse communities. Popular new community-based initiatives such as the Transition Town movement offer a chance to engage in alternative governance structures that embrace participation and inclusive politics. The potential is there to

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actively pursue the embodiment of concepts such as subsidiarity (Hirst, 1994; Hirst and Bader, 2001). Subsidiarity refers to the devolvement of power to the lowest possible level applicable to the decision being made and meeting the community development goal of community ownership. As a self-professed community-based movement the possibility of achieving strong community ownership of decision-making and resources should be at the core of any TT initiative. Another innovation that would enhance the inclusive and participatory potential of the movement is the adoption of principles and practices of deliberative democracy (Button and Ryfe, 2005; Gastil and Levine, 2005; Gutmann and Thompson, 2004). The use of this practice would encourage active citizenship through sharing of ideas and experiences and developing of collective decisionmaking that enhances community ownership of the whole process. Both of these possibilities would increase the capacity of communities to practise the inclusion, visioning and awareness raising principles of the movement. It would also assist the collective development of credible and appropriate solutions applicable to the context of the particular initiative and achieving the outcome of a more resilient community. However as experience with community capacity building initiatives has often shown the practice does not meet the potential because of inherent limitations. The perceived limitation of the TT movement to engage in participatory governance initiatives is its inherent hierarchical structure. It is interesting to see a movement that proclaims to be inclusive and participatory maintain such a rigid, top-down, hierarchical and essentially undemocratic governance system. Partly this is because it is a movement with a designated founder who is perceived by many to be the pinnacle of knowledge and wisdom in relation to Transition Towns. Another factor is the prescriptive nature of the movement’s manifesto for action outlined in the hand book and The Transition Initiatives Primer (Version 26). While both documents make it clear that they are not prescriptive they belie these claims by outlining very clearly the steps that are required to achieve the status of ‘official’ on the TT Wiki (http://transitiontowns.org/). This is more akin to a top-down capacity building initiative associated with achieving a government policy outcome than a community-based participatory initiative. An additional factor is the designation of the makeup of the steering group (Hopkins, 2009) of a TT initiative. It is articulated that there will ideally be a person with Permaculture training involved in the committee. While this is understandable because of the centrality of Permaculture to the overall movement it could also be limiting by not allowing the local initiative members to incorporate people with other capacities that could add

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value to the process. All of these issues link directly to understandings of leadership and how this is promulgated through a TT initiative. Leadership is central to recognising the capacity of communities to identify development issues of importance to the community and to build on this through good community-based governance. As mentioned above the possibilities offered by the TT movement could be boundless in engaging forms of leadership that move away from the traditional and explore alternative understandings that build on the participation and inclusiveness espoused by the movement. In discussing the importance of leadership to community building Kirk and Shutte (2004) outline the differences between leadership as position and leadership as process. In complex organisms such as communities the notion that there can be one leader in a hierarchical position that controls everything is outmoded; such systems require leadership that is distributed throughout the system (Kirk and Shutte, 2004). This is the type of leadership that would provide the most engaged and resilient communities but again the prescriptive nature of much of the Transition Town process limits the possibility of exploring alternative options of building leadership capacity in communities. Potentially TT initiatives are going to suffer the same problematic leadership issues that are experienced so regularly in community development and community capacity building programmes. The most likely leaders are going to be those that are educated, articulate and from the least marginalised groups in the community. This situation enhances the possibility of entrenching existing power structures and further marginalising sections of the community. It is important for TT initiatives to reflect on the hierarchical limitations of the current structure and to engage in building leadership capacity understood as process rather than position. Leadership as process provides a flexibility and adaptability that is difficult to achieve in hierarchical leadership. This can all be undermined if the success of the process is determined by achieving externally fixed outcomes (Diamond, 2004). These externally derived points of reference can come from government, large organisations or arguably focused and organised social movements such as Transition Towns that have a well formed framework. Recognition that process in all aspects including leadership is as important as outcome is central to successful community capacity building and community development initiatives and is something that is expressed in the TT literature but can be limited on the ground. If community capacity building is recognised as a process then learning must be at the heart of it. Learning which results in sustainable change,

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referred to as double loop learning (Argyris and Schon cited by Kirk and Shutte, 2004) is the way that someone can see themselves in a different way within the system. It is through this form of learning that strong partnerships can be built through recognising the interdependence of people working towards a common goal (Kirk and Shutte, 2004). Transition Town initiatives certainly engage in learning and building the capacity of participants to be able to see their role in a different light within the community. The development of a collective vision linked with the integrated nature of the awareness raising groups and individual work groups working toward the development of the Energy Descent Action Plan (EDAP) for the community provides a structure that articulates the integrated nature of the process and assists in the formation of effective partnerships for achieving community change and resilience. Recognition of community capacity A regular critique of many community capacity building and community development initiatives is that they fail to acknowledge the existing capacity in communities. Such failures lead to the understanding that community development and community capacity building programmes are deficit-based (Craig, 2007; Diamond, 2004; Kenny, 2007; Mowbray, 2005). Transition Town initiatives are susceptible to the same oversight. It is no coincidence that many of the current ‘official’ Transition Town initiatives have developed in places that have long histories of active citizenship through strong civic engagement around social justice, community economic development and environmental and ecological activism. Two prime examples are Totnes in Devon, England and Maleny in Queensland, Australia. These communities could just about be twins because their histories have such consistencies despite their geographic separation. Both towns have long histories of local economic engagement including the development of cooperatives and the use of local currency systems such as Local Energy Transfer Systems (LETS), the Acorn in Totnes and the Bunya in Maleny. Both have strong historical links to agriculture and are their regions’ market town and meeting place. For Maleny this has a history of many thousands of years as it is a meeting place for a number of Aboriginal language groups that gather on a regular basis to engage in law and ceremonial activities as well as celebrating the fruiting of the Bunya Pines (Jones, 1997). Both have attracted those who were looking to lead more sustainable lives embedded in community. Both have a long history of environmental and ecological activism and recognising the need to build sustainable, resilient communities

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that have reduced carbon footprints. All these indicators suggest that they are ideal candidate communities for a TT initiative. Totnes is the first ‘official’ Transition Town and Maleny comes in at number 164 (TT Wiki, http://transitiontowns.org/). But it is interesting that both of these communities with an abundance of community capacity would have undergone the same process as a town with few if any of the same capacities. The process would have benefited from the depth of capacity that each community possessed but was there adequate recognition of this? Transition Town initiatives are colonising by their very nature and deliberately aimed at drawing together all the existing groups and individuals in a community. The spread of the movement is referred to as viral by its founder (Hopkins, 2008b) but it can also be colonising of existing capacities. While there is a dearth of research into the process undertaken by the movement it would be surprising if there was not an element of dissatisfaction amongst some in the way TT initiatives not only embrace existing capacity but also subsume it. It is certainly the case that TT initiatives are encouraged to acknowledge existing groups (Hopkins, 2009) but the nature of the governance system would mean that the autonomy of the existing group would be severely curtailed if it were to remain under the TT umbrella. This is similar to the process experienced by community groups in community capacity building programmes where they run the risk of being co-opted by the dominant discourse and lose their autonomy and voice. This clearly identifies the need for TT initiatives to engage with community development processes and to build in systems of reflection and feedback so the full potential of each community is realised.

Conclusion The Transition Town movement provides an interesting insight into the engagement of the discourse of community capacity building into a self-professed grassroots movement designed to build resilient communities. The foundation of the movement is located in understanding the imperative for change signalled by the concepts of peak oil and climate change. There is no denying the lack of sustainability of the current system, dependant as it is on the use of cheap energy sourced largely through the use of fossil fuels. There is arguably a need to build the capacity of local communities to become more sustainable in their use of finite resources of all kinds and to look at how to localise as much of their essential services such as food, building materials, health

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services and transport as possible while not falling into feudalism. The TT movement offers a way forward that is based on building an understanding of current trends then using this as the foundation to build participatory processes designed to energise people to create a vision for the future and then to work towards achieving that goal. All of this is admirable and holds a great deal of potential but there are limitations that, if not addressed, could ultimately lead to a great many disaffected communities. The community capacity building and community development literature hold many insights for the Transition Town movement. The ideals of community capacity building while similar to many of those of community development are not embedded in understandings of social justice and human rights that form the basis of community development theory, practice and reflection. While it is true that much of what is termed community development falls short of achieving the ideals outlined in the Budapest Declaration, it is the critical reflective process that enables this to be critiqued and challenged in both theory and practice. Community capacity building will always be a part of the overall community development process but it is not a substitute for it. The TT movement uses community capacity building as one of its approaches to achieving its goal but it creates the same difficulties for communities as any top-down externally imposed model can, in that it potentially colonises and co-opts existing community capacity. While the rhetoric of the movement is about engaging with the existing community the prescriptive nature of its governance systems could hamper long-term creativity and lose its potential for creating sustainable change. Certainly the questions of who is building whose capacity and what for are very relevant to ask. While there is a rapid rise in the number of communities embracing the principles of TT movement the spread of the movement is quite telling. It could be argued that the most likely communities to embrace the movement would be those that are largely middle class, located in the large carbon footprint minority world with a high percentage of people who are well educated, articulate and comparatively wealthy. Furthermore those towns that currently have the most developed capacity in relation to engaging in civil society and active citizenship around social and environmental activism are most likely to take up the challenges and opportunities offered by the TT movement. Those communities that are already living a low carbon life style largely located in the majority world or in marginalised communities in the minority world are least likely to be attracted to the TT movement. On the other hand it is

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these communities that potentially have the greatest capacity to achieve the resilience identified as the outcome for the TT movement. The Transition Town movement does have a great deal of potential to build resilient and sustainable communities. The inclusive and participatory nature of the movement has much strength as well as some limitations. The movement, based as it is on the principles of Permaculture is well placed to provide strong leadership in environmental sustainability and self-sufficiency. What the TT movement could benefit from is a strong understanding of community development principles that embrace social justice, economic justice, human rights and redistribution of commonwealth, this would provide the critical reflection required to close the feedback loop.

References Brangwin, B. and Hopkins, R. (2008) Transition Initiatives Primer: Becoming a Transition Town, City, District, Village, Community or even Island, Version 26 (PDF), http:// transitionnetwork.org/Primer/TransitionInitiativesPrimer.pdf, accessed 12/03/2009. Brown, L. (2008) Plan B 3.0: Mobilizing to Save Civilization. London: W. W. Norton and Co. Button, M. and Ryfe, D. (2005) ‘What can we learn from deliberative democracy?’, in Gastil, J. and Levine, P. (eds), The Deliberative Democracy Handbook: Strategies for Effective Civic Engagement in the Twenty-First Century. San Francisco: JosseyBass. Carlson, S. (2008) ‘Keynote: Power play’, in The Urbanite Magazine: For Baltimore’s Curious, #51, September, http://www.urbanitebaltimore.com/sub. cfm?ArticleID= 1032&IssueID=64&SectionID=4, accessed 04/06/2009. Cauchi, J. and Murphy, J. (2004) ‘What’s wrong with community-building!: It’s much worse than we thought’, in Community Development, Human Rights and the Grassroots Conference Proceedings, Centre for Citizenship and Human Rights, Deakin University, Geelong, 44–66. Chamberlin, S. (2009) The Transition Timeline for a Local, Resilient Future. Totnes, Devon: Green Books. Chaskin, R. J., Brown, P., Venkatesh, S. and Vidal, A. (2001) Building Community Capacity. New York: Aldine De Gruyter. Chatterton, P. and Cutler, A. (2008) ‘The rocky road to a real transition: The transition towns movement and what it means for social change’ (PDF), Trapese Popular Education Collective, http://trapese.clearerchannel.org/, accessed 08/04/2009. Connors, P. and McDonald, P. (2010) ‘Transitioning communities: Community, participation and the Transition Town movement’, Community Development Journal Advanced Access, Published February 26th. Craig, G. (2007) ‘Community capacity-building: Something old, something new…?’, Critical Social Policy, 27(3): 335–359. Diamond, J. (2004) ‘Local regeneration initiatives and capacity building: Whose “capacity” and “building” for what?’, Community Development Journal, 39(2): 177–189.

246 Transition Towns and Community Capacity Building Gastil, J. and Levine, P. (2005) The Deliberative Democracy Handbook: Strategies for Effective Civic Engagement in the Twenty-First Century. San Francisco: JosseyBass. Gutmann, A. and Thompson, D. (2004) Why Deliberative Democracy?. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Heinberg, R. (2007) Peak Everything: Waking Up to the Century of Declines. Gabriola, BC: New Society Publishers. Hirst, P. (1994) Associative Democracy: New Forms of Economic and Social Governance. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press. Hirst, P. and Bader, V. (2001) Associative Democracy: The Real Third Way. London: Frank Cass. Holmgren, D. (2002) Permaculture: Principles and Pathways Beyond Sustainability. Hepburn Springs, Victoria: Holmgren Design Services. Hopkins, R. (2008a) The Transition Handbook: From Oil Dependency to Local Resilience. Totnes, Devon: Green Books. Hopkins, R. (2008b]) Transition Culture, http://transitionculture.org/, accessed 12/03/2009. Hopkins, R. (2009) The Transition Handbook: Creating Local Sustainable Communities Beyond Oil Dependency, Australia and New Zealand Edition. Sydney: Finch Publishing. Ife, J. and Tesoriero, F. (2006) Community Development: Community-based Alternatives in an Age of Globalisation, 3rd edn. Frenchs Forest: Pearson Education Australia. James, R. (2002) People and Change: Exploring Capacity Building in NGO’s. Oxford: INTRAC. Jones, S. (1997) Four Bunya Seasons in Baroon: 1842–1845. Maleny, Qld: Vagabond Ventures. Kelly, K. and Caputo, T. (2006) ‘Case study of grassroots community development: Sustainable, flexible and cost-effective responses to local needs’, Community Development Journal, 41(2): 234–245. Kelly, T. and Sewell, S. (1988) With Head, Heart and Hand: Dimensions of Community Building. Bowen Hills, Qld: Boolarong. Kenny, S. (2006) Developing Communities for the Future, 3rd edn. South Melbourne: Thomson. Kenny, S. (2007) ‘Reconstruction in Aceh: Building whose capacity?’, Community Development Journal, 42(2): 206–221. Kirk, P. and Shutte, A. M. (2004) ‘Community leadership development’, Community Development Journal, 39(3): 234–251. Lavarack, G. and Thangphet, S. (2009) ‘Building community capacity for locally managed ecotourism in Northern Thailand’, Community Development Journal, 44(2): 172–185. McCall, T. (2003) ‘Institutional design for community economic development models: Issues of opportunity and capacity’, Community Development Journal, 38(2): 96–108. McKnight, J. and Kretzmann, J. (2005) ‘Mapping community capacity’, in Minkler, M. (ed.), Community Organizing and Community Building for Health, pp. 158–172. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press. Mathie, A. and Cunningham, G. (2003) ‘From clients to citizens: Asset based community development as a strategy for community-driven development’, Development in Practice, 13(5): 474–486.

Phil Connors 247 Max-Neef, M. (1991) Human Scale Development: Conception, Application and Further Reflections I. New York: The Apex Press. Mollison, B. (1988) Permaculture a Designers’ Manual. Tyalgum, NSW: Tagari Publications. Mooallem, J. (2009) ‘The end is near! (Yay!)’, in The New York Times, The Green Issue, April 19th, https://services.exchange.deakin.edu.au/owa/redir.aspx?C= b0d3bfe6f5d44195b38f8bf29846a8b7&URL=http%3a%2f%2fwww.nytimes. com%2f2009%2f04%2f19%2fmagazine%2f19town-t.html, accessed 28/04/2009. Mowbray, M. (2004) ‘The new communitarianism: Building great communities or brigadoonery?’, Just Policy, no. 32: 11–20. Mowbray, M. (2005) ‘Community capacity building or state opportunism?’, Community Development Journal, 40(3): 255–264. New Economics Foundation (2008) A New Green Deal: Joined-Up Policies to Solve the Triple Crunch of the Credit Crisis, Climate Change and High Oil Prices. First Report of the New Green Deal Group (PDF), New Economics Foundation, http://www.neweconomics.org/gen/uploads/2ajogu45c1id4w55tofmpy5520072008172656.pdf, accessed 09/04/2009. Pitchford, M. and Henderson, P. (2008) Making Spaces for Community Development. Bristol: Policy Press. Pittock, B. (2005) Climate Change: Turning Up the Heat. Melbourne: CSIRO Publishing. Poole, D. L. (1997) ‘Building community capacity to promote social and public health: Challenges for universities’, Health and Social Welfare, 22(3): 163–170. Transition Towns WIKI, http://transitiontowns.org/, accessed 20/06/2009. Victurine, R. (2000) ‘Building tourism excellence at the community level: Capacity building for community-based entrepreneurs in Uganda’, Journal of Travel Research, 38(3): 221–229.

12 Conclusion: Critical Capacity Building Sue Kenny and Matthew Clarke

As discussed in this book, capacity building as a concept and a set of practices is now well settled into development projects in both the North and the South, regardless of whether these projects are operating through large international agencies, humanitarian programmes, local government initiatives or community-based organisations. Yet the concept has different applications. For example, in some circumstances the description of a programme as capacity building is simply a piece of rhetoric to give credibility to the implementing agency. Alternatively, it may be that the implementing agency is genuine in its commitment to building capacity (in whatever guise) and initiating activities to do just that. Regardless of the use and application of the term, though, the authors of the book have pointed out that the idea of capacity building carries a heavy normative load. Perhaps because of its heavy normative load, there has been little critical interrogation of the concept in the relevant literature. As with many of ‘buzzwords’ within development, it is generally been adopted without appropriate review. This is not necessarily an uncommon phenomenon within the international development sector in particular. With more than one billion people living in absolute poverty a day (using the most common measure of US$1.25 per day) and another billion more living on around US$2 per day, the urgency of appropriate development is overwhelming (Kingsbury et al., 2008). The lives of those living in these circumstances are characterised by premature death, preventable illnesses, limited access to clean water and sanitation, economic insecurity, and illiteracy. While perhaps not as dramatic, the relative poverty of those living within developed countries can be significantly debilitating and result in social exclusion that can leave individuals and communities vulnerable and powerless. Those interested in redressing these circumstances are 248

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impatient for (good) change and therefore often uncritically adopt new approaches that appear to offer solutions to these pressing needs. It is therefore important to recognise that development is a contested term and practices to achieve development must therefore be critically considered. Development is contested in both its meaning and its means of achievement. Having said that though, the intrinsic goal of development is to advance human dignity, freedom, social equity and selfdetermination. Good development outcomes are best achieved when communities have ownership of the goals and processes of development and where there are participatory representation, transparency and accountability mechanisms. Good development outcomes must also explicitly consider the importance of gender and diversity. Development occurs in all societies. It involves processes that require an appreciation of existing endogenous strengths and (often) exogenous interventions. Successful development requires critical analysis, mutual learning, and acceptance of its paradoxes and dilemmas. This book has addressed the need for critical interrogation of capacity building as a practice to achieve development. Hence the title ‘Challenging Capacity Building’, in which ‘challenging’ is constructed as a verb. The primary purpose of this book has been to present an argument that it is both necessary and important to consider what capacity building actually means and contrast that with how it is used within the development sector (whether that be in the North or South). Hence the title ‘Challenging Capacity Building’, in which ‘challenging’ is constructed as a verb. However, as also suggested in the introductory chapter, there is another sense in which ‘challenging’ can be applied. This is where it is constructed as an adjective. Indeed, capacity building is a challenging pursuit. This has been the second purpose of this book – to make it clear that building capacity of organisations, communities or individuals is challenging. Building capacity can be a difficult, long process that is often unsuccessful and almost certainly always incomplete. Thus we need a realistic understanding both of the limitations of capacity building as a development concept, but also of it as a development practice. Of course, it is all very well to encourage critical interrogation of the concept and to caution people regarding their approaches to capacity building, and yet another task to identify actual interrogations of, and engagements with capacity building programmes. There is little value in simply proffering from the sidelines a call to abandon current ideas without providing alternatives. Indeed, this book was conceived not a rallying cry against capacity building per se, but rather a reminder that

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the most vulnerable in our communities deserve more than might currently be available. Therefore this final chapter suggests various points of engagement and questions for development practitioners to ask when involved in capacity building projects. It draws together the explorations of capacity building presented in the book and offers some suggestions for critical engagement. The chapter is concerned with questions regarding the orientation, approach, rationale and expectations of a capacity building project. Consideration of the orientation of a programme involves probes regarding how we are framing and thinking about capacity building in general and the assumptions that underpin a planned activity. Questions about approach are concerned with how the activity will be achieved and whether activities are prescribed or fluid. The rationale deals with questions of why a particular activity is being implemented and what is expected to be the outcome of such an intervention. Each of these opportunities for critical engagement are important in challenging both the concept and practice of capacity building. However, they do not seek to mount an argument to dismiss capacity building, but for it to be better understood within the development sector. In the following section we consider each of these probes in turn.

Orientation As with all development work, the way a project is oriented sets up how we think about what we are doing. It would be useful to begin with what Fraser (1989) calls a bifocal approach, in which we keep, simultaneously, the viewpoints of the theorist and the social or political agent. This means having one eye on theoretical debates and one eye on the actual social and political practices. The orientation of a programme can be probed through an inquiry regarding the assumptions upon which it is based. Thus the first set of questions that development workers could ask in regard to capacity building revolves around the issue of how the concept and practice are framed. Practitioners could begin by investigating the ontological, normative, theoretical and political framing of the concept. For example, are the value and meaning of both ‘capacity’ and ‘building’ taken for granted? Is capacity building presented as unproblematic from the start or is there a statement or understanding of the complexity and ambiguities of the concept? To probe the normative purchase of the concept it might be useful to ask about the context in which capacity building was introduced and whether it might be used opportunistically, as a way of promoting a particular project to donors, governments or intended beneficiaries.

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Development programmes can be focused on a particular organisation, sectors or projects, or they can be framed holistically. Some capacity building programmes are located in wider economic, social and political context, and involve identifying how these contextual factors can facilitate or hinder the capacity building. However many are only concerned with a specific project, involving the identification of the specific capacities needed for a particular project, such as skills for particular jobs in particular industries and ignore the wider context. It is important to consider the orientation and focus of the project. In this book Fanany et al. (Chapter 8) have picked up this point up in their discussion of how capacity building is both understood and practised within Indonesia. They note, for example, that the term in Indonesia is used in a rather jargonistic manner without any real resonance with local Indonesian communities. Moreover, capacity building generally refers to building individual capacity rather than organisational capacity. Therefore, key individuals within an organisation are identified for training or other activities to enhance their abilities, with little consideration given to improving the operational capacity of the host organisation. In this sense, capacity building is understood within a very narrow framework and one that limits potential benefits. This compares quite starkly to the concept of capacity building found in the United States. In Chapter 10 Stoecker has argued that capacity has focused very narrowly on organisation change and how to improve the management of non-profit organisations. Stoecker further argues that capacity building does occur in the United Sates, but is more widely known as community organising. However, he notes that in the United Sates, these interventions of often highly political in their nature and motivation, more so than might be typically found outside of the United States.

Approach The second way of interrogating a capacity building programme is through consideration of the approach taken. A starting point might be to enquire into whether the approach is formulaic. That is, does it follow a set of prescribed actions? International agencies, in particular, have favoured setting out steps for capacity building interventions, especially when contracting to capacity building agencies. A capacity building practitioner could consider the advantages and disadvantages of different approaches. Often the discussion of approach focuses on the question of whether the capacity programme is initiated in a top-down or bottom-up manner. In a top-down approach it is ‘experts’ who identify the need for capacity

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building and who the ‘target group’ will be. It is then these ‘experts’ who design and manage the capacity-building programme. Such an approach strengthens asymmetrical power relations. As discussed by Abdullah and Young in Chapter 5, a top-down approach is evident in many of the capacity building programmes for Indigenous Australians. This approach is most evident when external forces identify a need, and as a consequence of the power imbalance, local Indigenous communities feel pressure to validate the need, which is constructed around their perceived ‘weaknesses’. In contrast, capacity building might be designed and managed from within a community in a bottom-up manner. But this approach still assumes a ‘target group’, ripe for the ‘benefits’ of a capacity building programme. This brings us to the crucial question of whose capacities are to be ‘built’. For example, has a target of (usually deserving) disadvantaged people been identified within a community? If so, on what basis? Target groups are usually identified on the basis of location and socioeconomic status. The question to be asked then, is ‘why this particular group, village, community or region? In much capacity building work the target group is conceptualised as a homogeneous, reified community, with static capacities and a single path for capacity building. As Craig (Chapter 3) and Ife (Chapter 4) indicate in this volume, such an approach precludes the idea of a diverse and fluid community with multiple and shifting capacities and diverse paths to building capacities. In Chapter 5 Abdullah and Young explain why Indigenous Australian communities have been chosen as groups desperately needing their capacity built. The pressure to deliver capacity building interventions within Indigenous communities must be seen in the wider context of persistently poor social and health indicators. The poor performance suggested by these indicators is exacerbated by comparison to non-Indigenous communities. External agents, such as the media, play a role in presenting a picture that there is a distinct weakness within the target community, that requires urgent redress. Political pressure ‘to do something’ builds and a political response is called for. Capacity building interventions based on perceived weakness of the target community therefore form the basis of this political response. In these circumstances being seen to act requires a problem or fault to be found and a solution proffered. As an alternate to the top-down approach, capacity building might be designed and managed from within a group or community, in a bottomup manner. Indeed, capacity building can take place without any intervention from outside a community. But even this approach assumes a ‘target group’. A more holistic approach would consider that all of those

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involved in the programme could benefit from the capacity building processes, regardless of whether it was initiated designed or managed exogenously or endogenously. Such an approach might utilise the idea of partnership, in which capacity building is a ‘mutual journey’. The mutual journey approach sees capacity building as a multidirectional, multidimensional process (Eade, 1997). Of course the description of a capacity building approach as a ‘partnership model’ should be considered carefully to ensure that this title does not just conceal power differentials between the parties involved (Mayo and Taylor, 2001). One typology stands out as a key marker of the particular approach or methodology used in a capacity building programme. This is whether the programme is deficit-based or asset-based, or a mixture of these. As discussed in this book, the deficit-based approach begins not with the capacities that a community has, but with what it does not have. For example, the deficit-based approach involves identification of needs and what is missing, and operates to address the gaps. ‘What is missing’ might be skills, resources or even networks. As Ife points out in Chapter 4, this approach portrays people and communities as somehow lacking or deficient. It is akin to a pathology viewpoint, where a ‘problem’ is diagnosed and a ‘treatment’ is prescribed. In contrast, the asset-based approach begins with the many assets that already exist in the community. Eade (1997) has argued that people always have many existing capacities. To ignore these is disrespectful and it can leave communities even more vulnerable. In understanding the approach to capacity building it is important to ask whether or not a project starts with, or even recognises existing assets and strengths, including knowledge, skills, networks and resources. If it does start with assets and strengths, which of these is it attempting to develop, and why? A major theme discussed in this book concerns the need for capacity building practitioners to consider the factors that might hinder or facilitate a capacity building programme. Such an undertaking requires an examination of the structural, political and cultural factors that block access to resources and inhibit capacity building. Thus key questions when investigating setting up a capacity building programme are: Does the approach locate capacity building in structural, political and cultural contexts? Does it acknowledge the structural impediments, vested interests and resource constraints? Are there any strategies in place to overcome the impediments and constraints? Clarke’s discussion of the applicability of capacity building in all circumstances has picked up this point. In discussing illegal Burmese migrants in Thailand, Clarke argues that the use of capacity building as the ‘business-as-usual’ response can be

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unhelpful at best and dangerous at worse. For target groups that do not have political rights or the recourse to the law, seeking to build capacity can be very detrimental. Thus Clarke calls for recognition that responding to development needs through capacity building activities might not be appropriate in all circumstances. The final set of questions to ask when considering the approach to capacity building concerns the approach to participation. To appreciate the role of participatory approaches it is essential to understand that the idea of participation does not rest on one unitary approach to development. There are now many discussions of the traps to watch for when talking about participatory practices. A number of commentators have pointed out that there are different forms and levels of participation and different reasons for developing participatory programmes (Arnstein, 1969; Eade and Williams, 1995; Smith, 1998; Cooke and Kothari, 2001; Cornwall, 2008). The work of Arnstein (1969:216) in particular, has been influential in setting out ‘a ladder of participation’, which ranges from non-participation (therapy and manipulation) to tokenism (including informing, and consultation) to citizen power (including partnership, and citizen control). It is important to investigate the type of participation envisaged or enacted in a capacity building programme. For example, the idea of local participation might mean no more than participants being informed of actions and asked to comment in a tokenistic way. In such a situation the framing of need and the terms of reference of a programme have already been set. But even where there is a preparedness on the part of external experts to negotiate changes, the ownership of a programme by recipients is precluded. Such reflections prompt the question of how local ownership might be developed and guaranteed. In the chapter by Share (Chapter 9), questions of how partnerships between governments, communities and philanthropic organisations are discussed in the context of the revitalisation of housing estates in Ireland. As Share notes, these different groups often have competing agendas and priorities and it is important that power is shared amongst key stakeholders if successful outcomes are to be achieved. Though, as Share also notes, such diffusion of power is not easy to achieve.

Rationale and expectations This brings us the critical issue of the rationale for introducing a capacity building programme; the ‘why’ of the programme and who decides the ‘why’. As argued in this book, contrary to views in much of the literature, the need for capacity building is not self-evident. It is important to

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ask about the official rationale for the establishment of the programme. For example, was the aim to improve the efficiency of organisational management or demonstrate programme effectiveness? Or was it to enhance the capacity of individuals to ‘stand on their own feet’? The former aim is set within a managerialist paradigm where efficient management is often the end goal of development and capacity building requires organisational skilling, or even just mastery of technical procedures. The latter aim is set within a framework of what has come to be known as individualisation, in which people are required to take initiative, look to their own decisions and then ultimately be in a position to develop their own resources, rather than relying on outside benefactors (Beck, 1992:135). This framework is particularly appealing in the context of ‘third way’ policies that emphasise that any rights to welfare and resources must have corresponding responsibilities (Giddens, 1998:65). In general, as Ife points out in Chapter 4, communities themselves do not identify a ‘lack of capacity’ as their primary problem. The answer to the issue of ‘who decides’ then, is often likely to be that it is politicians, development ‘experts’, bureaucrats, managers or even humanitarian workers have identified the need for capacity building. For many of these people the rationale of capacity building projects is to achieve the management goals concerning specific skills sets and management efficiencies. However, there are important differences in the ways in which external experts think about the ‘why’. For some, it really is a matter of strengthening the capacities of communities, as active citizens, to determine their own goals and methodologies for development. For example, some capacity building programmes are concerned with capacities to control power, facilitate mutual aid; establish alternative structures; establish and manage a local economy; and to realise human rights. Other programmes, as Miller points out in Chapter 2, are really concerned to help people to realise their potential by strengthening and nurturing capacities, through facilitation and the provision of opportunity, resources and support, rather than through didactic training programmes. For Miller, this can involve people rising above a certain situation, meeting a challenge against the odds and demonstrating personal qualities that were previously invisible or repressed. This issue was also discussed by Wallace in Chapter 7. The Solomon Islands has recently gone through a period of intense conflict and as a result of this conflict, pre-existing strengths of certain community groups – particularly women – became evident and therefore became quite central to conflict resolution processes. It was important therefore that capacity building interventions recognised these strengths and allowed these key community members to

256 Conclusion: Critical Capacity Building

assume a role that they would not normally do in order to facilitate the peace process.

Conclusion As with all development work, it is important to understand that some type of expectation is embedded in capacity building work. Mostly, this expectation concerns performance objectives. That is, capacity building refers to specific approaches, strategies and methodologies for the purpose of improving the performance of individuals, communities, community organisations and regions to carry out particular preordained functions. It is thus heavily inscribed with performativity. Importantly, capacity building can also be an end in itself, without final goals, rather than a ‘means to’ something. It can be based around iterative processes that are generated and controlled internally, and constructed through democratic deliberation. As argued in this volume, rather than being an instrumental, linear process with set outcomes, the activities of capacity building can be messy, disordered and unpredictable. Capacity building has quickly achieved a resonance within the development lexicon that carries with it a certain cache that motivates donors to financially support developmental activities carrying this label. In this sense it has become a powerful ‘brand’ that can neither be easily ignored or discarded. Yet the question we are left with at the end of the book is whether the idea of capacity building is so replete with normative intent and has such a complex malleability that it should be abandoned altogether. While the arguments presented by some of the authors in the book would suggest jettisoning the term and replacing it with the older term ‘community development’, ‘capacity building’ can offer a specific lens, which if set up critically, can underscore the idea that development is about deliberative processes, collective self-determination and the realisation of human rights. Critical capacity building, working in tandem with a just society and reconnected to a social justice agenda for drawing out human potential, can be a tool in the quest for full human subjecthood. We hope the arguments in the book might help stake out a claim for some new turf upon which critical capacity building can begin to be assembled.

References Arnstein, S. (1969) ‘A ladder of citizen participation’, Journal of the American Institute of Planners’, 35(4): 216–224.

Sue Kenny and Matthew Clarke 257 Beck, U. (1992) Risk Society: Towards a New Modernity. London: Sage. Cooke, B. and Kothari, U. (eds) (2001) Participation: The New Tyranny?. London: Zed Books. Cornwall, A. (2008) ‘Unpacking “participation”: Models, meanings and practices’, Community Development Journal, 43(3): 269–283. Eade, D. (1997) Capacity-building: An Approach to People-centered Development. Oxford, UK and Ireland: Oxfam. Eade, D. and Williams, S. (1995) The Oxfam Handbook of Development and Relief. Oxford, UK and Ireland: Oxfam. Fraser, N. (1989) Unruly Practices, Power and Gender in Contemporary Social Theory. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Giddens, A. (1998) The Third Way: The Renewal of Social Democracy. Cambridge: Polity Press. Kingsbury, D., McKay, J., Hunt, J., McGillivray, M. and Clarke, M. (2008) International Development: Issues and Challenges. London: Palgrave. Mayo, M. and Taylor, M. (2001) ‘Partnerships and power in community regeneration’, in S. Balloch and M. Taylor (eds), Partnership Working, Policy and Practice. Bristol: Policy Press. Smith, B. (1998) ‘Participation without empowerment: Subterfuge or development’, Community Development Journal, 33(3): 197–204.

Index ABCD, see assets-based community development Abdullah, Jill, 14, 87–111, 252 Aboriginal Australians, 14, 51, 55, 87–111, 242 Communities for Children initiative, 93–100, 107 employment case study, 88–90 remote areas, 100–4 strategies and practices, 105–7 accountability, 176, 249 Aceh, 161, 167, 168, 171–2, 176, 179 ACFID, see Australian Council for International Development active citizenship, 6, 7 Burmese migrants in Thailand, 122, 130 community capacity building, 229 community development, 45 Transition Towns, 240, 242, 244 activism, 3, 8 durable disposition for, 35 Ireland, 195, 198, 201, 204, 208–9 iron law of oligarchy, 222 Transition Towns, 242 transnational networks, 11 ADB, see Asian Development Bank Adrianto, A., 169–70 advocacy, 215 advocate-guardian role, 16, 114, 124, 130 agency, 6, 7, 8, 13, 34, 175 Ahmed, R., 47 aid accountability, 176 Indonesia, 161, 176 Solomon Islands, 16, 134, 146–7, 151 see also development; funding Alinsky, Saul, 212, 218, 222, 224 Amnesty International, 137, 139, 144, 146 Anderson, Mary, 146, 151

Arnstein, S., 47, 254 Asian Development Bank (ADB), 161, 173, 175 asset-based approach, 15, 159, 160, 179, 253 see also capacity development; strengths perspective assets-based community development (ABCD), 22, 232 ‘assimilatory’ practices, 91, 97, 98, 104 Atkinson, R., 71–2 AusAID, 133–4, 150, 152, 161 Australia Communities for Children initiative, 93–100, 107 community capacity building, 50, 51, 54–5, 69 community development, 5 indigenous communities, 10, 14, 51, 55, 87–111, 252 Maleny, 242–3 nation building, 29 policing of ‘fragile states’, 134 remote areas, 100–4 Solomon Islands intervention, 147–8, 150, 152 Australian Council for International Development (ACFID), 143 Australian Dialogue (2008), 104, 108n10 autonomy, 6, 57, 103, 104 Back of the Yards Neighborhood Council, 218, 224 Baenesia, Abraham, 152–3 Baker, Ella, 218–19 Banks, S., 46, 52, 62, 207 BAPPENAS (Indonesian National Development Planning Agency), 163 Batten, T. R., 24 Beazley, M., 55

258

Index 259 Benington, J., 42 Beresford, P., 53 ‘best practice’, 112, 122 Bion, W. R., 31–2 Bissett, J., 192, 196, 204 Black Panthers, 213 Blunkett, David, 49 bonding social capital, 95 Bosnia, 7, 43 Bottom, K., 47 bottom-up approaches, 160, 235, 252 community development, 45, 53, 83, 159, 197, 237 FCDL, 55 indigenous communities, 105 Ireland, 187 Solomon Islands, 152–3 Bourdieu, P., 13, 31, 33–4 bridging social capital, 95, 99 Brotherhood of St Laurence (BSL), 91–2, 103 Budapest Declaration (2004), 44–5, 236, 244 Burmese migrants, 15, 112–32 constraints to community participation, 114–15, 122, 123, 124–7 employment opportunities, 117–19 NGO role, 123–9 status of, 116–17 Campbell, B., 35 Canada, 5, 29, 50 capacities community organising, 221 concept of, 12, 13–14, 30–1, 32 indigenous communities, 88 ‘capacity builders’, 8–9, 17, 22, 48, 236 capacity building community organising as, 220–2 considerations of, 7–12 critical interrogation of concept, 248–57 definitions of, 71, 72, 156, 165, 207, 235 dimensions of, 157–61 Indonesia, 16–17, 161–80, 251 Ireland, 193, 195–208

language of, 13–14, 67–84, 193–5, 229, 237 normative load, 3, 248, 250 participatory, 235–6 as proxy for development, 156–7 rhetoric of, 206–7 romance with, 3–7 United States, 50–1, 211, 214–18, 220–5, 251 see also community capacity building; community development capacity development definition of, 160 Indonesia, 171, 179 Solomon Islands, 135–6, 149, 152, 153 see also asset-based approach capital, 34 capitalism, 23, 215, 216, 217–18, 219, 225 see also disaster capitalism Caputo, T., 237 CBOs, see community-based organisations CCB, see community capacity building CDCs, see community development corporations CDEP, see Community Development Employment Projects CDWs, see community development workers Center for Non-profit Resources, 216 CfC, see Communities for Children initiative Charity Commission (UK), 48, 49 Charlesworth, C., 145–6 Chaskin, R., 206–7 Christie, I., 42 Christophersen, C., 101 churches, 134, 135, 138, 142, 145, 147, 153 citizenship rights, 6, 7, 101 see also active citizenship Civil Rights Movement, 218–19, 221 civil society, 6 community development, 45 liberal democracies, 166

260 Index civil society – continued NGOs, 141 Solomon Islands, 135, 136, 141–2 Transition Towns, 244 Clarke, Matthew, 3–20, 112–32, 248–57 climate change, 230–1, 232, 243 colonialism, 72–4, 76 communitarianism, 28, 43 Communities for Children (CfC) initiative, 93–100, 107 community, 8, 13 Aboriginal, 99 contested nature of, 26 localist orientation, 11 terminological issues, 41–4 community-based organisations (CBOs), 135, 138, 144, 150, 153 community capacity building (CCB), 13, 23–4, 36, 41–66, 229–30 Australia, 50, 51, 55 Canada, 50 colonialism, 72–4 comparison with community development, 13–14, 24, 48–9, 53, 57, 67, 72, 83, 236–8 context of, 21–2, 23, 29–30 critique of, 52–7 deficit approach, 68–70 Enlightenment modernity, 80–2 external agendas, 70–2 globalisation, 28–9 Ireland, 187 language of, 13–14, 59, 67, 69–70, 82–3, 229, 237 as linear process, 75–7 measurement of, 74–5 New Zealand, 50, 51 outcome focus, 79–80 participation, 235–6 partnerships, 51–2, 56–7 policy contexts, 57–61 scope and definitions, 46–9 social justice agenda, 25–7 training, 77–9 Transition Towns, 230, 232, 233–4, 238–43, 244 United States, 50–1, 211, 214–18, 222–5

see also capacity building; community development community cohesion, 47, 57, 137 see also social cohesion community development, 5, 22, 62, 67–8, 207, 229 agenda-setting, 70 bottom-up approach, 159 Burmese migrants in Thailand, 114–15, 116, 129 colonialism, 73–4 comparison with community capacity building, 13–14, 24, 48–9, 53, 57, 67, 72, 83, 236–8 comparison with community organising, 219–20 conservatism, 82–3 deficit approach, 68, 69 as democratic project, 22–3 displacement of, 52 empowerment, 9–10 environmental issues, 231 fundamental aim of, 56 human interactions, 75 Indonesia, 171, 176–8, 179 Ireland, 187, 194, 197–9, 200, 205 as organic process, 76 participation, 36, 122 post-modern approach to, 82 practice of, 44–6 as problematic for managerialism, 81 process focus, 80 social justice, 25 Solomon Islands, 16 terminological issues, 43 training, 77, 78 Transition Towns, 19, 232–3, 234, 238–43, 244–5 United Kingdom, 27 United States, 18, 211–13, 214 see also community capacity building; community organising community development corporations (CDCs), 213, 214 Community Development Employment Projects (CDEP), 100–1

Index 261 community development workers (CDWs), 43, 48, 54 community housing trusts, 206 community organising, 18, 23, 26–7 Ireland, 187, 191 loss of expertise in, 24 United States, 212–13, 218–22, 223–4, 251 Community Peace and Restoration Fund (CPRF), 150–1, 152 Community Reinvestment Act (CRA), 221–2 Community Sector Programme (CSP), 152 competence-based learning, 31 conflict community diversity, 43 Indonesia, 170, 179 Solomon Islands, 16, 134, 136–9, 142, 144–7, 151, 255 Transition Towns, 239 Connors, Phil, 18–19, 229–47 conservatism, 36, 67, 83 consultation, 168–9, 200 contracts, 90, 143 co-option, 13, 54, 61 Indonesia, 172, 173 Ireland, 204 Transition Towns, 243, 244 coordination, 107 Corcoran, M., 191, 201 corporatism, 186–7 corruption, 147, 148, 172–3, 179 cosmopolitanism, 11 CPRF, see Community Peace and Restoration Fund CRA, see Community Reinvestment Act Craig, Gary, 11, 12, 13, 21, 41–66, 237–8, 252 crime, 191, 192 critical capacity building, 256 critical reflection, 35–6, 234, 244, 245 Crossley, N., 34–5 Crough, G., 101 CSP, see Community Sector Programme

cultural awareness training, 97 cultural capital, 34 cultural differences, 11, 55 culturalism, 177–8 cultural knowledge, 103–4 Cummins, R., 96 decision-making community organising, 223 community participation, 113, 121, 177 environmental development, 60 indigenous communities, 91, 92, 98, 104 Solomon Islands, 136 subsidiarity, 240 top-down approaches, 9, 42 Transition Towns, 240 urban regeneration in Ireland, 200, 203–4, 208 women’s involvement, 146 deficit approach, 8–9, 15, 159, 242, 253 community capacity building, 55–6, 68–70 Indonesia, 174 Solomon Islands, 16, 133, 135 democracy capitalist power over, 217 deepening of, 9 deliberative, 240 participatory, 215, 216, 217 deprived communities, 53–4, 60 Dublin, 190–1, 201–2 New Deal for Communities, 42, 56 organisational capacity building, 47 see also poverty De Senillosa, I., 124 developed world, 7, 10 community capacity building, 46–7 community development, 5 developing world, 7, 10 colonialism, 72–4 community participation, 44 ideological goals of capacity building, 158 local development, 4

262 Index development, 3, 248–9, 256 capacity building as proxy for, 156–7 colonialist, 72–3 community participation, 112–13 Indonesia, 161 see also aid; community development Development Services Exchange (DSE), 140–1, 143–4 Diamond, J., 54, 202, 205 disaster capitalism, 158, 176 discrimination, 81 diversity, 11, 29, 43, 71, 249 Dodson, P., 108n10 Donnison, D., 42 drug use, 191, 192, 198 DSE, see Development Services Exchange Dublin docklands, 188, 189–90, 194–6, 199–200, 202–4, 206, 207–8 Dublin, regeneration of, 17, 186, 188–209 Dwyer, P., 43 Eade, D., 142, 160, 253 economic development, 60–1, 206–7 Ireland, 185 remote indigenous communities, 102 Thailand, 118–19 Transition Towns, 242 EDAP, see Energy Descent Action Plan education, 26, 77, 78, 149 Edwards, M., 176 elite capture, 170–1, 177, 178 employment, see work empowerment Brotherhood of St Laurence, 91 civil society, 6 community capacity building, 48, 61 community development, 5, 9–10, 45, 205 Indonesia, 171 language of capacity building, 194 promise of, 4 training agenda, 78

Energy Descent Action Plan (EDAP), 242 Enlightenment, 76–7, 80–2 environmental issues, 71, 230–1 community capacity building, 59–60 Transition Towns, 231, 232, 242–3, 245 essentialism, 8, 157 ethnicity Burmese migrants in Thailand, 124–7 Indonesia, 170 Solomon Islands, 136 European Commission, 46 European Union (EU), 134, 185 faith communities, 47 Fanany, Ismet, 16–17, 156–84, 251 Fanany, Rebecca, 16–17, 156–84 Fatima Mansions, 190–1, 194, 196, 198–202, 206, 207 Fay, Brian, 75 Federation for Community Development Learning (FCDL), 54–5 fetishisation of capacity building, 4, 5, 113, 129 First Nations, see indigenous communities ‘fragile states’, 133–4 Fraser, N., 250 free markets, 28–9 Freire, P., 10, 13, 24, 33–4, 77 French, R., 30, 32 Fukuyama, F., 140, 148 funding Burmese migrants in Thailand, 126 Communities for Children initiative, 93, 94, 95–6 community capacity building, 22, 54, 56–7 Development Services Exchange, 141 Indonesia, 167–8, 169, 172 NGOs, 143 remote indigenous communities, 100–1

Index 263 Solomon Islands, 134, 140, 143–4, 150 United States, 213, 215–16 urban regeneration in Ireland, 203 see also aid gap analysis, 9, 135 Gaventa, J., 176 gender, 249 Geoghegan, M., 187 globalisation, 23, 28–9 governance community-based, 167 Solomon Islands, 148 Transition Towns, 238–42, 244 GRA, see Guadalcanal Revolutionary Army Gramsci, A., 24, 33–4 Guadalcanal Revolutionary Army (GRA), 137 habitus, 13, 33–4 Hammock, J., 178 Hardiman, N., 187 health, 58, 59, 144 Hewitt, A., 176 Hillery, G. A., 41 HIV/AIDS, 121, 128, 129, 130n6 Hoban, M., 53 Holmgren, David, 233 Hook, Sydney, 33 Hopkins, Rob, 231, 234 housing community capacity building, 58, 59 Ireland, 187–8, 189, 190–2, 197, 202, 204, 206 Huddock, A., 143 human rights, 7, 71 community development, 5, 171 cosmopolitanism, 11 critical capacity building, 256 environmental issues, 231 Solomon Islands, 137–8, 139 Transition Towns, 234, 245 Humm, J., 48 Hunt, J., 99

IACD, see International Association of Community Development identity, 13, 29, 43–4 ideological goals of capacity building, 158–9, 217 Ife, Jim, 3–4, 8, 9, 12, 13–14, 67–84, 252, 253, 255 IFM, see Isatabu Freedom Movement Ignatieff, M., 143 inclusivity, 238–9, 245 indigenous communities, 10, 71 Australia, 14, 87–111, 252 colonialism, 73 Communities for Children initiative, 93–100, 107 community capacity building, 51, 76–7 employment case study, 88–90 holistic world view, 76 remote areas, 100–4 strategies and practices, 105–7 individualisation, 255 individualism, 5, 42, 175 Indonesia, 16–17, 161–80 characteristics of approaches, 173–4 development programmes, 161 engagement with capacity building, 167–9 illegal migrants, 114 Kecamatan Development Project, 7, 166, 167, 181n4 meaning of capacity building, 161–6, 174, 178, 180, 251 personal gain of NGO workers, 169–71, 173, 175 public perceptions of capacity building, 172–3 tsunami (2004), 161, 168, 171 Urban Poverty Project, 166–7 inequalities, 24, 25 community capacity building, 54 indigenous communities, 99 structural reasons for, 61–2 urban regeneration in Ireland, 192–3, 201–5, 208 information, 91, 97–8, 103–4 see also knowledge Institute for Research and Governance (IRE), 164

264 Index instrumentalism, 9, 75, 159, 173 International Association of Community Development (IACD), 236 IRE, see Institute for Research and Governance Ireland, 17, 185–210, 254 history of regeneration, 197–9 knowledge and skills, 195–7 power and inequality, 201–6, 208 relationships and trust, 199–201 social partnership, 186–8, 190, 208 Transition Towns, 231 iron law of oligarchy, 222, 224 Isatabu Freedom Movement (IFM), 137–8, 139, 145 issue-based communities, 44 James, R., 235 Japan, 161 Jessop, B., 32 Jewell, T., 103 Kabutaulaka, T., 148 Kecamatan Development Project, 7, 166, 167, 181n4 Kelly, K., 237 Kemakeza, Alan, 147 Kenny, Sue, 3–20, 21, 156–84, 197, 235, 248–57 kin relationships, 95, 99, 153 Kirk, P., 241 Klein, M., 33 Klein, N., 158 knowledge capacity building discourse, 207 indigenous communities, 90, 97–8, 103–4, 106 local, 177 positivism, 75 strengths perspective, 88 transfer of, 4, 78 urban regeneration in Ireland, 195–7, 208 women, 146 Korten, D., 112, 123–4 ‘ladder of participation’, 254 language

Burmese migrants in Thailand, 126, 127 community capacity building, 13–14, 59, 67, 69–70, 82–3, 229, 237 Indonesia, 162–3 Ireland, 193–5 Lautze, S., 178 leadership capacity development, 149 community organising, 220 indigenous communities, 106 Solomon Islands, 147 Transition Towns, 241 learning, 10, 31–2 double loop, 241–2 Indonesia, 179–80 training, 77–8 legislation Community Reinvestment Act, 221–2 Native Title, 102 legitimacy, 36 Liloquila, R., 138, 146 linking social capital, 95 Local Initiatives Support Corporation (LISC), 214 localism, 11, 212 logging companies, 151–2 Lukacs, G., 33–4 Maddison, S., 87 Malaitan Eagle Force (MEF), 137–8, 139, 145 Maleny, 242–3 managerialism, 4–5, 10, 12, 81, 255 external experts, 159 language of community capacity building, 67, 83 measurement, 74 organisational development, 71 outcome focus, 79 positivism, 75 Maoris, 51 Marxism, 33–4 Marx, Karl, 30, 34 McGinty, S., 46 McNeil, M., 160, 166, 178 MEF, see Malaitan Eagle Force

Index 265 Mendes, P., 42–3 mentoring, 158 meta-narratives, 80, 81 Miller, Chris, 3–4, 9, 11, 12, 21–40, 255 modernity, 79, 80–2 Mollison, Bill, 233 Moore, N., 189, 190, 199 Morgan, P., 135–6 Mowbray, M., 54 ‘mutual journey’ approach, 10, 77–8, 174, 253 Nash, V., 42 National Council of Women (NCW), 145 national identity, 29 nation building, 29, 138 Native Title (NTA) legislation, 102 NCW, see National Council of Women NDC, see New Deal for Communities Neighbourhood Renewal, 229 neo-liberalism, 4–5, 12, 23, 27–8, 158 competence-based learning, 31 conservative climate, 36 elite capture, 171 external experts, 159 urban regeneration in Ireland, 189–90 New Deal for Communities (NDC), 42, 43, 56 New Labour, 42, 43, 47–8, 51, 54, 229 new managerialism, 4–5 see also managerialism New Zealand, 5, 50, 51 non-government organisations (NGOs), 4 advocate-guardian role, 16, 114, 124, 130 Burmese migrants in Thailand, 15, 114, 116, 123–9, 130 civil society, 6 colonialism, 73 community participation, 122 funding, 168 hierarchy of, 143–4 Indonesia, 16–17, 161–2, 164, 166, 168–73, 177, 180

Korten’s typology of, 112–13, 123–4 local, 142–3 organisational capacity building, 49 partnership working, 52 Solomon Islands, 16, 134–5, 139, 140–2, 144, 150, 152–3 United States, 211, 212–13 non-profit organisations, 18, 213, 215–17, 251 Northern Ireland, 43, 194 NTA, see Native Title legislation Nussbaum, M. C., 30 NZAid, 134 Offe, C., 29 Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights, 139 oil, 230, 231, 232, 243 oligarchy, iron law of, 222, 224 organisational capacity building, 3, 10, 47, 71, 255 Indonesia, 173, 175 partnership working, 52 United Kingdom, 49 United States, 49, 50–1, 214, 222–3 outcome-focused approaches, 74, 79–80, 81, 199, 241 Oxfam, 45, 134 participation, 4, 112–13, 254 activism, 35 Burmese migrants in Thailand, 114–15, 120–2, 129, 130, 131n7 Communities for Children initiative, 93 community capacity building, 229, 235–6 community development, 36, 44, 49, 67–8 fetishisation of, 120 Indonesia, 167, 169 language of capacity building, 194 strengths perspective, 92 Stronger Families and Communities Strategy, 98 Transition Towns, 239–40, 245 urban regeneration in Ireland, 208

266 Index Participatory Learning and Action (PLA), 120 Participatory Research Action (PRA), 120 partnerships community capacity building, 51–2, 56–7 indigenous communities, 96, 105 Indonesia, 177 Ireland, 17, 186–8, 190, 208 ‘mutual journey’ approach, 253 Transition Towns, 242 see also public-private partnership Partridge, G., 56 Passeron, J., 31 pathology approach, 9, 24, 27, 68–9, 253 PCMCs, see Project Community Management Committees peacemaking activities, 145, 146, 147, 150–1 performativity, 256 Permaculture, 231, 233–4, 240, 245 permit system, Australia, 103 personal gain, 169–71, 173, 175 Peters-Little, F., 99 Pettit, J. G., 141 philanthropic foundations, 22, 73, 213, 216 PLA, see Participatory Learning and Action Polanyi, K., 28 policy Burmese migrants in Thailand, 116–17 capitalist, 218 community capacity building, 57–61 indigenous communities, 106–7 influence of community organising on, 221–2 politics community capacity building, 54, 57, 71 community organising, 18, 221, 222, 224 Ireland, 187 target groups, 252 US funding system, 215–16

Pollard, A. Aruh’eta, 138, 146 pollution, 151–2, 230 Poole, D. L., 237 positivism, 74–5 post-modern approach, 82 poverty, 27, 42, 248 community capacity building, 47 community participation, 121–2 Indonesia, 166–7 structural reasons for, 61–2 see also deprived communities Powell, F., 187 power community capacity building, 59, 60, 62, 237–8 community organising, 221 indigenous communities, 14 Solomon Islands, 136 urban regeneration in Ireland, 192–3, 201, 202–3, 205, 254 PPP, see public-private partnership PRA, see Participatory Research Action private sector, 60 problem analysis, 135 process, 76, 79, 80, 241–2 professionalisation, 214, 215 Project Community Management Committees (PCMCs), 120, 122 public-private partnership (PPP), 190, 191, 192, 196, 206, 208 Pupavic, V., 177 Putnam, Robert, 28, 94–5 racism, 51, 98, 224 Rajasa, M. Hatta, 164 RAMSI, see Regional Assistance Mission to the Solomon Islands Rapid Rural Appraisal (RRA), 120 reflexivity, 35–6 refugees, political, 130n3 regeneration community capacity building, 41, 52, 54, 56, 58–9, 229 Ireland, 185–6, 188–209, 254 language of capacity building, 194–5 Regional Assistance Mission to the Solomon Islands (RAMSI), 147–8, 150, 152–3

Index 267 relationships community participation, 121 indigenous communities, 91–2, 94–7, 99, 102–3 kin, 95, 99, 153 NGOs and Thai public officials, 128 urban regeneration in Ireland, 199–201, 207 see also social networks religion, 170 remote areas, 100–4 resources community capacity building, 229 indigenous communities, 91, 93–4, 100–2, 106 Indonesia, 179 Solomon Islands, 136 rights, citizenship, 6, 7, 101 see also human rights Roughan, J., 138, 148 RRA, see Rapid Rural Appraisal rural areas, 100–4, 212 Saegert, S., 23, 26 St Michael’s Estate, 191–2, 195–6, 198–206, 208 Sanderson, J., 91, 97, 105, 108n10 Scott, Geoff, 99 Scougall, J., 106 self, limitations of the, 33–6 self-determination, 6, 157, 158, 160, 178 community development, 205 community organising, 224 cosmopolitanism, 11 critical capacity building, 256 goal of development, 249 indigenous communities, 100, 101 Indonesia, 171–2, 177 ‘under-developed’ countries, 156 Western conception of agency, 175 Sen, A., 30 settlement houses, 212 SFCS, see Stronger Families and Communities Strategy Share, Michelle, 17, 185–210, 254 Shaw, M., 23, 36

Shenton, F., 46, 62, 207 Shutte, A. M., 241 SICA, see Solomon Islands Christian Association Simpson, P., 32 skills capacity building discourse, 207 community participation, 113 empowerment, 48 indigenous communities, 90, 98, 106 Indonesia, 179 Ireland, 195 skill-based learning, 31 strengths perspective, 88 transfer of, 4, 112 urban regeneration in Ireland, 195–7, 207, 208 women, 146 Smith, D., 99 Soares, C., 41 social capital community capacity building, 57 decline in, 28 enhancement of, 158 habitus, 34 indigenous communities, 94–5, 99, 106 measurement of, 74 social cohesion, 98, 100, 138 see also community cohesion social control, 215–17, 223 social justice community capacity building, 25–7, 32–3 community development, 5, 23, 25, 44, 171 critical capacity building, 256 environmental issues, 231 instrumentalist capacity building, 9 Transition Towns, 234, 242, 245 urban regeneration in Ireland, 198, 208 social networks asset-based approach, 179 indigenous communities, 106 Permaculture, 233 Solomon Islands, 153 see also relationships; social capital

268 Index social partnership, 186–8, 190, 208 social regeneration, 189, 190, 194, 200, 202–4 Solomon Islands, 16, 133–55, 255–6 aid programmes, 134 background, 136–40 capacity development, 135–6 civil society, 141–2 government and capacity, 147–53 Regional Assistance Mission, 147–8, 150, 152–3 women, 144–7 Solomon Islands Christian Association (SICA), 134, 139, 141, 142 Srinivas, H., 46 Stacey, M., 41 stakeholders, 71, 113, 121, 201, 254 state, 23, 29, 218 anti-statism, 6 Solomon Islands, 147–53 urban regeneration, 193 Stoecker, Randy, 17–18, 211–28, 251 Stoker, G., 47 strengths perspective indigenous communities, 88, 92, 105 Solomon Islands, 135, 148–9, 153 Transition Towns, 232 see also asset-based approach Stronger Families and Communities Strategy (SFCS), 93, 97, 98, 106 Stronger Families Learning Exchange, 50 structuralism, 24 structure/agency dualism, 7, 8 subsidiarity, 240 sustainability, 4, 106, 158, 235 Burmese migrants in Thailand, 129 community participation, 120 Transition Towns, 233, 243, 245 target groups, 252 Tarrow, S., 29 Taylor, M., 42

technocratic approaches, 9–10, 12, 159 elite capture, 171 Indonesia, 175 United States, 213, 214 terminological issues, 8, 13–14, 67 community, 41–4 Indonesia, 178 Ireland, 193–4 see also language Thailand, 15, 112–32 Thatcher, Margaret, 27–8 Third Way, 42, 54, 255 time, 106, 179, 198–9 top-down approaches, 9, 42, 45, 159–60, 235, 251–2 community capacity building, 51, 53, 56, 71, 229–30, 238 inappropriate responses, 237 indigenous communities, 105 Indonesia, 174 Ireland, 187, 205 New Labour policy, 44 positivism, 75 Solomon Islands, 152 training, 77 Transition Towns, 240 Totnes, 231, 242–3 tourism, 101–2 training, 10, 157–8 community capacity building, 77–9 critical reflection, 36 cultural awareness, 97 indigenous communities, 88–9 Indonesia, 175 peace building, 151 Transition Towns (TTs), 18–19, 229–47 background, 230–1 governance, 238–42, 244 hands, 233–4 head, 232 heart, 232–3 recognition of community capacity, 242–3, 244 trust Burmese migrants in Thailand, 125 indigenous communities, 95, 96, 97

Index 269 Indonesia, 164–5 urban regeneration in Ireland, 199–201, 207 TTs, see Transition Towns Tutu, Desmond, 140 uncertainty, 81, 82 UNDP, see United Nations Development Programme unemployment, 185, 188 United Kingdom (UK) community capacity building, 41, 47–9, 54, 57, 229 ‘community’ concept, 42 community development, 5, 27, 45 contested nature of community, 26 miners’ strike, 35 partnership working, 51–2 poverty, 27 Third Sector, 22 Transition Town Totnes, 231, 242–3 United Nations (UN), 6, 46, 73 United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) capacity development, 149, 160 community capacity building, 46, 71 Indonesia, 166 participation, 44 Solomon Islands, 139 United States (US), 17–18, 211–28 community development, 211–13 community organising, 212–13, 218–22, 223–4, 251 future of community capacity building, 224–5 organisational professionalisation, 214 organisation/community conflation, 50–1 social control, 215–17

USAID, 161 ‘War on Poverty’, 27, 212 urban community development, 212 Urban Poverty Project (Indonesia), 166–7 urban regeneration Ireland, 17, 185–6, 188–209, 254 language of capacity building, 194–5 USAID, 161 values, 5, 158 Verity, F., 21 visioning, 232, 234 ‘voice’, 4, 45 voluntary organisations, 212 Wallace, Heather, 16, 133–55, 255 Watson, Lila, 105 Werner, D., 151 Willis, P., 71–2 Winnicott, D. W., 30 women community participation, 71 Solomon Islands, 134, 138, 139, 144–7, 151–2, 153, 255 Women for Peace, 145 Wood, M., 145–6 Woolcock, M., 160, 166, 178 work Burmese migrants in Thailand, 115, 117–19, 125, 126, 128–9 indigenous communities, 88–90 Solomon Islands, 136 World Bank community capacity building, 53 community participation, 44 Indonesia, 7, 161, 166–7, 172–3, 177, 181n4 World Vision, 134 Young, Susan, 14, 87–111, 252