Communication in International Development: Doing Good or Looking Good? [1 ed.] 1138569917, 9781138569911

Table of contents :
Contents
List of figures
List of table and box
Contributors
Acknowledgements
Introduction. Communication in international development: towards theorizing across hybrid practices • Florencia Enghel and Jessica Noske- Turner
Part I: “For” and “about”: interrogating practices across domains
1 A “success story” unpacked: doing good and communicating do-gooding in the Videoletters Project • Florencia Enghel
2 “Doing good” and “looking good” in global humanitarian reporting: is philanthro-journalism good news? • Martin Scott, Kate Wright and Mel Bunce
3 Shifting development discourses in public and in private: the case of the Scotland–Malawi partnership • Ben Wilson
4 Communication about development and the challenge of doing well: donor branding in the West Bank • Karin Gwinn Wilkins
Part II: What next? Rethinking conventional approaches
5 Becoming visible: an institutional histories approach to understanding the practices and tensions in communication for development • Jessica Noske-Turner, Jo Tacchi and Vinod Pavarala
6 For celebrity communication about development to do good: reframing purpose and discourses • Lauren Kogen
7 Communication and evaluation: can a decision-making hybrid reframe an age-old dichotomy? • Ricardo Ramírez and Wendy Quarry
8 Communicating development results in an emerging “post-aid” era • Peter da Costa
Epilogue: what’s bad about “looking good”? Can it be done better? • Silvio Waisbord
Index

Citation preview

“This fine volume thoughtfully addresses the provocative and important question of its title. The well-focused essays by development scholars and scholar-practitioners from a number of countries challenge those involved in development communication to think carefully not just about what they are doing but also about why they are doing it.” —Nancy Morris, Temple University, USA “Communication in International Development: Doing Good or Looking Good? provides a well-illustrated documentation of the communication of international development practices and ideas. As being seen to ‘do good’ with the requisite branding, photoops and celebrity endorsements becomes central to the mandate of humanitarian and development organizations, this book helps us to understand how ‘looking good’ is produced, performed and who is affected by it.” —Lisa Ann Richey, Roskilde University, Denmark “Delving into the complex and conflictual world of communication in international development, this important contribution reveals the imperatives and motivations of agencies caught between the desire to ‘do good’ but who end up investing in ‘looking good’ and the gaps between ideological promise and institutional performance. A must read.” —Pradip Thomas, University of Queensland, Australia “This book aptly interrogates the relationship between the ‘walk’ and ‘talk’ of communication and development practices through a range of case studies. The authors balance concerns about the increasing focus of development actors on looking good rather than doing good with empirical material to illuminate the stakes for democracy.” —Eleftheria Lekakis, University of Sussex, UK

“What does it mean to claim to ‘do good’ with development assistance resources? Do the requirements of funding agencies mean that whatever is done, it must be made to ‘look good’ to sustain a future flow of funds? What tensions does the donor-recipient relationship give rise to and how are they managed in practice? This outstanding collection of papers probes for answers. It reveals how international development stakeholders frame problems and solutions, how asymmetric power relationships work themselves out, and how media and communication strategies are implicated. The complexity of the challenges in the ‘media and communication for development’ arena are highlighted, providing an essential critique of prevailing practice. Students, scholars and practitioners seeking to change the world in a just, ethical and equitable way must read this book.” —Robin Mansell, London School of Economics and Political Science, UK “Does looking good outweigh doing good in international development cooperation? In what ways do conceptions of justice define what actual “improvement” should involve in development efforts? These hard questions lie at the core of the thrilling volume Enghel and Noske-Turner put together. The editors convened an excellent group of international scholars who wrote well-researched chapters constituting the two parts – and an epilogue – in order to tackle the ambiguities and challenges that mark development communication today and can generate further divides. Enghel and Noske-Turner’s scrutiny of “justice” as an addition to the UN’s 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development is a welcome and timely intervention. Communication in International Development is a must-read volume for any scholar and practitioner interested not only in development communication, but communication at large.” —Miyase Christensen, Stockholm University, Sweden “Grounded in a solid conceptual framing by the editors, this book delivers thoughtprovoking contributions that convincingly overcome some of the silo-thinking and tension in discussions about the different roles of communication in international development cooperation. An innovative, ambitious and critical reflection that moves the field forward!” —Thomas Tufte, University of Leicester, UK

COMMUNICATION IN INTERNATIONAL DEVELOPMENT

International development stakeholders harness communication with two broad purposes: to do good, via communication for development and media assistance, and to communicate do-gooding, via public relations and information. This book unpacks various ways in which different efforts to do good are combined with attempts to look good, be it in the eyes of donor constituencies at large, or among more specific audiences, such as journalists or intra-agency decision-makers. Development communication studies have tended to focus primarily on interventions aimed at doing good among recipients, at the expense of examining the extent to which promotion and reputation management are elements of those practices. This book establishes the importance of interrogating the tensions generated by overlapping uses of communication to do good and to look good within international development cooperation. The book is a critical text for students and scholars in the areas of development communication and international development and will also appeal to practitioners working in international aid who are directly affected by the challenges of communicating for and about development. Florencia Enghel is Senior Lecturer Fellow at the School of Education and Communication, Jönköping University, Sweden. Jessica Noske-Turner is Lecturer in Media and Communication at the University of Leicester, UK.

Rethinking Development

Rethinking Development offers accessible and thought-provoking overviews of contemporary topics in international development and aid. Providing original empirical and analytical insights, the books in this series push thinking in new directions by challenging current conceptualisations and developing new ones. This is a dynamic and inspiring series for all those engaged with today’s debates surrounding development issues, whether they be students, scholars, policymakers, and practitioners internationally. These interdisciplinary books provide an invaluable resource for discussion in advanced undergraduate and postgraduate courses in development studies as well as in anthropology, economics, politics, geography, media studies, and sociology. Learning and Volunteering Abroad for Development Emerging Economies and Development Jan Nederveen Pieterse Disability and International Development A Guide for Students and Practitioners David Cobley Numeracy as Social Practice Global and Local Perspectives Keiko Yasukawa, Alan Rogers, Kara Jackson and Brian V. Street Communication in International Development Doing Good or Looking Good? Edited by Florencia Enghel and Jessica Noske-Turner For more information about this series, please visit: www.routledge.com

COMMUNICATION IN INTERNATIONAL DEVELOPMENT Doing Good or Looking Good?

Edited by Florencia Enghel and Jessica Noske-Turner

First published 2018 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2018 selection and editorial matter, Florencia Enghel and Jessica Noske-Turner; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Florencia Enghel and Jessica Noske-Turner to be identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Enghel, Florencia, editor. | Noske-Turner, Jessica, editor. Title: Communication in international development : doing good or looking good? / edited by Florencia Enghel and Jessica Noske-Turner. Description: Abingdon, Oxon ; New York, NY : Routledge, 2018. | Series: Rethinking development | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2017061079 (print) | LCCN 2018015584 (ebook) | ISBN 9780203703977 (eBook) | ISBN 9781138569911 (hbk) | ISBN 9781138569928 (pbk) | ISBN 9780203703977 (ebk) Subjects: LCSH: Economic assistance—International cooperation. | Economic development—International cooperation. Classification: LCC HC60 (ebook) | LCC HC60 .C6244 2018 (print) | DDC 338.91—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017061079 ISBN: 978-1-138-56991-1 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-138-56992-8 (pbk) ISBN: 978-0-203-70397-7 (ebk) Typeset in Bembo by Apex CoVantage, LLC

CONTENTS

List of figures List of table and box Contributors Acknowledgements Introduction. Communication in international development: towards theorizing across hybrid practices Florencia Enghel and Jessica Noske-Turner

ix x xi xv

1

PART I

“For” and “about”: interrogating practices across domains 1

2

3

A “success story” unpacked: doing good and communicating do-gooding in the Videoletters Project Florencia Enghel “Doing good” and “looking good” in global humanitarian reporting: is philanthro-journalism good news? Martin Scott, Kate Wright and Mel Bunce Shifting development discourses in public and in private: the case of the Scotland–Malawi partnership Ben Wilson

19

21

39

58

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Contents

4

Communication about development and the challenge of doing well: donor branding in the West Bank Karin Gwinn Wilkins

76

PART II

What next? Rethinking conventional approaches 5

6

7

8

Becoming visible: an institutional histories approach to understanding the practices and tensions in communication for development Jessica Noske-Turner, Jo Tacchi and Vinod Pavarala

97

99

For celebrity communication about development to do good: reframing purpose and discourses Lauren Kogen

118

Communication and evaluation: can a decision-making hybrid reframe an age-old dichotomy? Ricardo Ramírez and Wendy Quarry

135

Communicating development results in an emerging “post-aid” era Peter da Costa

153

Epilogue: what’s bad about “looking good”? Can it be done better? Silvio Waisbord

170

Index

177

FIGURES

2.1 2.2 4.1 4.2 4.3 4.4 4.5 4.6 4.7 4.8 4.9 5.1 5.2 7.1

Change over time in the quantity, format, and average word length of IRIN outputs Proportion of IRIN outputs each month (excluding “top picks”) which adopted a particular “communicative frame” USAID and partners in Bethlehem (Collection #4796; July 19, 2016) USAID in Bethlehem (Collection #4786; July 19, 2016) USAID in Bethlehem (Collection #4788; July 19, 2016) USAID in Bethlehem (Collection #4802; July 19, 2016) SIDA at Hosh Hanania Rehabilitation Project in Bethlehem (Collection #4811; July 19, 2016) SIDA in Hebron (Collection #4915; July 21, 2016) JICA in Hebron (Collection #4912; July 21, 2016) USAID at Hebron University Multi-media Lab (Collection #4885; July 21, 2016) GIZ German Agency at Hebron University (Collection #4883; July 21, 2016) An institutional history workshop. © Evaluating C4D project An example of an institutional history map – Country Office-1 Summary of the hybrid’s most strategic steps

45 47 85 86 87 87 88 89 90 91 91 104 106 142

TABLE AND BOX

Table 2.1

Change over time in the percentage of IRIN outputs (excluding “top picks”) adopting different frames and citing different sources

48

Partnership principles

63

Box 3.1

CONTRIBUTORS

Mel Bunce (PhD) is a Senior Lecturer in Journalism at City, University of London, UK. She is the co-editor of Africa’s Media Image in the 21st Century (Routledge) and the director of the Humanitarian News Research Network, based at City, University of London. Her research focuses on foreign correspondents, digital journalism and crisis reporting. Peter da Costa (PhD) is a development policy and strategic communication specialist currently based in Nairobi, Kenya. He has worked extensively in Africa as well as on global issues and initiatives for more than two decades. A trained journalist, he reported from West Africa during the early 1990s for a range of print, broadcast, and multimedia outlets. He has worked as Regional Director for Africa of the global media and development communication agency Inter Press Service, based in Zimbabwe, and Senior Communication Adviser to the UN Under-Secretary General and Executive Secretary of the United Nations Economic Commission for Africa headquartered in Ethiopia. He holds a PhD in Development Studies from the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London, UK. He consults extensively with multilateral and bilateral development agencies, philanthropic foundations and civil society organisations. Florencia Enghel (PhD) is a Senior Lecturer Fellow in the School of Education and Communication, Jönköping University, Sweden. Her doctoral study, “Video letters, mediation and (proper) distance”, which analyses post-conflict international media assistance to the successor states to the former Yugoslavia, received the 2015 Doctoral Dissertation Award from the Swedish Association for Media and Communication Research (FSMK). Her work has been published in Nordicom Review, Global Media Journal, and Media, Culture & Society. She is a member of the Clearinghouse on Public Statements of the International Association for Media

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and Communication Research (IAMCR), where she served as Vice-Chair of the Participatory Communication Research Section from 2010 to 2016. Lauren Kogen (PhD) is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Media Studies and Production at Temple University, USA. Her research focuses on two sub-fields of communication research: communication for development and social change, and communication about development. She has also conducted numerous evaluations of communication for development projects. Her scholarly work has appeared in academic journals, including International Communication Gazette, Mass Communication and Society, and Media, Culture, and Society. Jessica Noske-Turner (PhD) is a Lecturer in the School of Media, Communication and Sociology at the University of Leicester, UK, with research expertise in media and communication for development and social change. She is the author of Rethinking Media Development through Evaluation: Beyond Freedom (Palgrave Macmillan), and her research has also been published in Information Technologies and International Development, Nordicom Review, and Global Media Journal. She has conducted research across Asia, Africa and the Pacific Region including in Cambodia, Vietnam, Kenya, Malawi and Vanuatu. She has worked on large research partnerships, including with UNICEF Communication for Development and ABC International Development. Vinod Pavarala (PhD, Professor) is the UNESCO Chair on Community Media in the Department of Communication, in the Sarojini Naidu School, at the University of Hyderabad, India. The Sarojini Naidu School has a strong research reputation and profile, and under Professor Pavarala’s leadership (as Dean) was identified by the Research Councils UK as an Indian centre of excellence in research. The School’s UNESCO Chair is the only one in the world dedicated to community media, with capacity-building and advocacy functions that reach beyond South Asia, including to Europe and Africa. Through his research, publications, conference presentations, and policy interventions over 15 years, Pavarala has made a strong case for community media (especially radio) as tools for participatory development in India. Wendy Quarry (MA) is a Canada-based practitioner in development communication and social change with more than 25 years of experience. Her work has been applied mostly outside of Canada, in countries including India, Pakistan, Ghana, Nigeria, Mozambique, and Afghanistan. She is currently working in an Action Research Project funded by the International Development Research Centre (IDRC) looking at the combined role of utilisation-focused evaluation and research communication in IDRC-funded projects in Africa, Asia and Latin America. She has developed communication strategies for governments and NGOs, and trained organisations to understand the difference between development communication and public relations. She teaches the Development Communication and Social Change course at Royal Roads University, Canada, and has taught a similar course in Ahmedabad, India. Together with Ricardo Ramírez, she co-authored

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Communication for another development: Listening before telling, published by Zed Books in 2009. Ricardo Ramírez (PhD) is an expert consultant based in Guelph, Ontario, Canada, and an adjunct professor in the School of Environmental Design and Rural Development at the University of Guelph, Canada. His consulting and research work includes communication planning, participatory evaluation and capacity development, both domestically, with First Nations, and internationally. Ricardo began his career in agricultural sciences and went on to specialise in adult education and rural development. He was a member of FAO’s Communication for Development Group at the organisation’s headquarters in Rome, and he has also worked with non-governmental organisations and consulting firms. He is currently working in an Action Research Project funded by the International Development Research Centre (IDRC) looking at the combined role of utilisation-focused evaluation and research communication in IDRC-funded projects in Africa, Asia, and Latin America. Together with Wendy Quarry, he co-authored Communication for another development: Listening before telling, published by Zed Books in 2009. Martin Scott (PhD) is a Senior Lecturer in Media and International Development at the University of East Anglia, UK. He is the author of Media and Development (Zed Books, 2014) and has written a number of academic articles and book chapters on subjects including humanitarian journalism, celebrities and development, representations of Africa, mediated cosmopolitanism, and the role of popular culture in politics. He has also produced reports and guidelines for UNESCO, DFID and the International Broadcasting Trust (IBT) concerning the production, content, and effects of representations of international development. Jo Tacchi (PhD, Professor) is a Professor in the Institute for Media and Creative Industries, and Associate Dean Research at Loughborough University in London, UK. She is a media anthropologist. Her research is mostly concerned with media, communication, and development. She also has a long-standing interest in media and affect, participatory content creation, and the role of radio and new audio technologies in domestic spaces. She has developed methodologies that combine ethnographic principles with action research cycles (ear.findingavoice.org), and recent books include Evaluating Communication for Development (2013, Earthscan, Routledge), and Digital Ethnography: Principles and Practices (2016, Sage). Her current work explores issues of voice and participation in relation to information and communication technologies (ICT), media and development, education and active citizenship, and capacity development in relation to evaluation of communication and development. Silvio Waisbord is a Professor in the School of Media and Public Affairs at George Washington University, USA. He is Editor-in-Chief of the Journal of Communication and former Editor-in-Chief of the International Journal of Press/Politics. His recent

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books include News of Baltimore: Race, Rage and the City (2017, edited with Linda Steiner, Routledge), and the Routledge Companion to Media and Human Rights (2017, edited with Howard Tumber, Routledge). He is currently writing a book on the field of communication, An Invitation to Communication: The State of a Post-Discipline, to be published by Polity Press. Karin G. Wilkins (PhD, Professor) is the Associate Dean for Faculty Advancement and Strategic Initiatives with the Moody College of Communication at the University of Texas at Austin, USA, where she also holds the John P. McGovern Regents Professorship in Health and Medical Science Communication. Wilkins is currently the Editor-in-Chief of Communication Theory. She has won numerous awards for her research, service, and teaching. Her work addresses scholarship in the fields of development communication, global communication, and political engagement. Selected recent works include Communicating Gender and Advocating Accountability in Global Development (2015, Palgrave MacMillan); Handbook of Development Communication and Social Change (2014, Wiley-Blackwell), and Questioning Numbers: How to Read & Critique Research (2011, Oxford University Press). Ben Wilson is a Policy Officer at the Scottish Catholic International Aid Fund (SCIAF), also known as Caritas Scotland. He is a PhD candidate at the department of Sociology in the School of Social and Political Sciences at the University of Glasgow, Scotland. His PhD research focuses on the contemporary relationship between Scotland and Malawi. His research interests are in development theory, particular post-development, post-colonialism, environmental sustainability, deep ecology, and African colonial history. Wilson has more than eight years of experience in international development programs and advocacy work, particularly in the area of participatory training techniques and research. He has established and continues to manage a registered charity supporting community organisations in Malawi. Kate Wright (PhD) is a Chancellor’s Fellow in the Cultural and Creative Industries at the University of Edinburgh, Scotland. She is the author of Who’s Reporting Africa Now? Non-governmental organisations, journalists and multimedia (Peter Lang, in print). She’s also written a number of academic articles and book chapters about the relationship between humanitarianism, human rights, and the media. This includes work on the moral economies of freelancing, audience responses to suffering, and the politics of voice within international aid organisations. Before joining academia, she was an award-winning producer at the BBC, working on international news and current affairs documentaries.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This collection was produced with the support of the Leading Research Environment in Global Media Studies and the Politics of Mediated Communication at Stockholm University in Sweden, RMIT University in Australia (with funding from an Australian Research Council Linkage project – LP130100176), and the School of Media, Communication and Sociology at the University of Leicester in the UK. Special thanks go to Martin Scott and Helen Yanacopulos, former conveners of the DSA Media and Development Study group that encouraged us to organise a panel where the theme of this collection was first discussed among some of its contributors; to Jo Tacchi and Monika Ericson, who made it possible for us to meet in Barcelona and Stockholm in the early stages of this project; and to Víctor Marí, who led us to Lauren Kogen. Thanks also to the five anonymous reviewers of the book proposal for their input; to Robin Mansell and Silvio Waisbord, who read early drafts of two chapters and gave us most productive comments to improve them; and to Helena Hurd and Leila Walker, our editorial team at Routledge. It has been our great pleasure to work with our talented lineup of contributors, and we are deeply grateful for their generous dedication to this enterprise. Last but not least, thanks to Magnus Engvall, who kindly provided a safe haven for writing in Stockholm.

INTRODUCTION Communication in international development: towards theorizing across hybrid practices Florencia Enghel and Jessica Noske-Turner

In international development cooperation, various stakeholders make use of communication in order to promote a globally agreed agenda: multilateral, regional, and bilateral organisations; international and national civil society organisations; and the private sector, among others. These uses generally have one of two broad purposes: to do good, via communication for development and media assistance, and to communicate the good done, via information and public relations. Instances in which both purposes are combined have remained under-researched. Little is known about how they overlap in practice, and therefore about how to address the tensions and contradictions that may ensue from this overlap. The question of whether a prime concern with making aid look good may override efforts to do good has not been sufficiently investigated until now. This edited collection starts from this question. In which ways, and to which effect, are endeavours to do good via communication, primarily directed at developing countries, combined with attempts to communicate good done and/or make aid look good in the eyes of various audiences?1 We argue that understanding the link between these ambiguous roles is crucial because their overlap may lead to democratic deficits concerning citizens’ rights – to substantial communication and to sustainable development – across both ends of the donor–recipient equation.

Using communication to promote development: a dual purpose The very definition of the verb “to promote” refers to a dual purpose: to further the progress of a cause, and to give publicity to said cause in order to raise awareness (Oxford Dictionary, n.d.). The first broad purpose of communication tackled in this collection is to play a positive role in the production of progress, however defined by its proponents (Gumucio-Dagron and Tufte 2006; Servaes 2007; Wilkins

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2008; McAnany 2012; Lennie and Tacchi 2013; Enghel 2015). Or to do good, as a shorthand. We refer to progress however defined by its proponents in acknowledgment of Nederveen Pieterse’s definition of development as “the organised intervention in collective affairs according to a standard of improvement” (2010, 3), where what constitutes improvement, and thus adequate intervention towards it, is open to debate depending on ideas of justice (Fraser 2008). This collection focuses on international development cooperation as an activity that meets, or should meet, the following basic criteria: it is explicitly concerned with supporting internationally agreed development goals; it is not driven by profit; it discriminates in favour of developing countries; and it is premised on cooperative relationships between richer and poorer partners (Alonso and Glennie 2015, 2). To these criteria we add a notion of justice by defining communication “as a right to which citizens are entitled, as a responsibility of practitioners,2 and as a capability that is socially distributed in unequal ways and has an ambiguous potential” (Enghel 2014). In our view, adding a notion of justice to the criteria outlined above is necessary because the current internationally agreed development goals, formalised in the 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development adopted by the 193 Member States of the United Nations (UN) in September 2015, fall short of foregrounding communication as a right and a capability affected by global/local conditions, and therefore dilute issues of responsibility among stakeholders in this respect (Enghel 2014; Noske-Turner 2017). This shortcoming, of itself, raises a serious challenge in terms of attending to the tensions and risks derived from the overlap between deploying communication to do good, and harnessing it to communicate the good done. To communicate the good done – that is, to inform citizens and other audiences about the nature and value of work undertaken to pursue sustainable development, be it in ethical and substantial ways, or driven by advertising and promotional purposes – is the other broad purpose tackled in this collection. The shorthand proposed in this case – looking good, as per the book’s title – should be taken as an initial red flag (that is, as a critical point of departure) rather than an all-encompassing formulation. Scholarly work regarding the communication of good done by development stakeholders other than international NGOs is hard to find (Waisbord 2008; see Scott 2014 and Thomas and van de Fliert 2014 for exceptions). But grey literature on the matter has mushroomed hand in hand with the transition from the UN’s Millennium Development Goals, which served as the overarching framework for international development cooperation between 2000 and 2015, to the 2030 Agenda’s Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs). In this literature, the main concern is how to raise awareness about the SDGs and convey the positive results of the enterprise3 (Mulholland, Bernardo, and Berger 2017; OECD 2014a, 2014b). It is the fine line between communicating substance – or, more broadly, using communication substantively – and embracing over-simplistic communicative approaches typical of market-driven public relations (and indicative of an understanding of communication and media as commodities) that interests us here. Rather than approach doing good and looking good as alternatives within a dilemma

Introduction

3

such that a choice should be made between them – i.e., as a mutually exclusive binary – the collection addresses them from an integrated perspective. This is not only a methodological and analytical strategy, but also a departure from the existing divides among turfs, both in the practice and in the study of communication in development. We outline the history of those divides in the following section and reflect on its links to this collection’s central concerns.

From categorizing divides to “theorizing across” Divides have been typical of studies of development communication over the years. The reader that is familiar with the field’s literature will recall references to, for example, modernisation versus dependency theory, diffusion versus participation, or top-down versus bottom-up approaches (Gumucio-Dagron and Tufte 2006; Wilkins 2008; McAnany 2012). Efforts to bridge these divides are few but significant. In a much-cited report prepared in 2001 for the Rockefeller Foundation, Waisbord discussed the field as the product of convergence between diverse theoretical and empirical traditions, and established a link between this richness in approaches and the ensuing conceptual confusion, pointing at the need for middle range theory (Waisbord 2001, 2). In another well-known study published soon after, Morris (2003) analysed and compared diffusion and participation as the field’s two dominant conceptual models. The article problematised differences between them by identifying overlaps and ways in which proponents of both had in fact borrowed elements from one another, and argued that a new relationship could be established between them by “theorizing across” (Morris 2003, 243) and incorporating the best of both. This collection heeds that call, but focusing on yet another divide: between communication for and about development.

Communication for and about development In the wider context of scholarship that confines intertwined aspects of hybrid practices to discrete subfields, research tends to separate the use of communication for and about development. This may be partly because at times they are deployed separately,4 and partly because they have different ends despite sharing common means (Paquette, Sommerfeldt, and Kent 2015). Studies of communication for development focus on do-gooding at the recipient end, while enquiries into public relations as an element of donor-driven communication practices remain rare5 (Paquette, Sommerfeldt, and Kent 2015; Sriramesh 2012) in spite of increasing empirical attention to the role of promotional practices in political communication and governance (Aronczyk 2015; Kaneva 2011) and much discussion of the shortcomings of the core messages and visual politics of international NGOs (e.g. Cottle and Nolan 2007; Chouliaraki 2013; Dogra 2013; Scott 2014). Studies of development politics consider domestic public opinion on aid but do not necessarily incorporate communication and media as analytical dimensions (Milner and Tingley 2013). All in all, more attention is given to communication for development at the recipient end

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(Waisbord 2008). In parallel, practitioners in high-level forums worry about how to inform the citizens of donor countries about what aid is and why it matters, i.e., communication about development (Glennie, Straw, and Wild 2012; Eurobarometer 2013; OECD 2014a, 2014b; Mulholland, Bernardo, and Berger 2017). Plenty of scholarship has focused on normative ideals about communication’s presumed power to promote positive social change, and has strived to prove its value (see Enghel 2014, 57–60 for a literature review; Ferron and Guevara 2017; Lennie and Tacchi 2013). Minimal attention has been directed towards the institutional and contextual conditions that enable and constrain the concrete practice (Waisbord 2008). Communication for development is generally understood as a tool that donor countries use strategically in order to support their intervention in recipient countries: a powerful tool, that can be administered to lead to ever-positive results in the quest for social change, and at the same time a neutral tool, that can be geared towards similar outcomes in disparate contexts (Enghel 2014, 2015). Ideally, it will give voice to the disenfranchised, enabling their participation in the making of decisions that affect their lives, and promote good governance by increasing their access to public information and means of expression (Linden 1999; Manyozo 2012). According to Lennie and Tacchi (2013, 2–3), in recent years “a fixation on greater efficiency in the disbursement of aid funding” derived from the Paris Declaration on Aid Effectiveness in 20056 has led to “an ascendance of accountancy” in the evaluation of communication for development approaches that has complicated its practice, in that donor’s accountability for doing good is reduced to accounting for money spent and visible deliverables (see Noske-Turner 2017 for a discussion of the consequences of this state of affairs). While the substance of definitions of communication for development in academic work tends to remain steady (despite changes in denominations),7 understandings among practitioners vary depending on stakeholders, and have also shifted over the years. One example is the UN, which has worked with communication for development since the mid-1960s. The Food and Agriculture Organisation (FAO), the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) and the UN Development Programme (UNDP) have had different approaches despite the existence of a mechanism to facilitate inter-agency exchange and promote cooperation: the UN Inter-Agency Round Table on Communication for Development, held on a biennial basis since 1988.8 A review of documentation pertaining to the ninth, tenth and eleventh round tables, held between 2004 and 2009 (McCall 2009), reveals a lack of coherence and coordination among agencies (see Enghel 2013, 121–2 for a more detailed history).9 Communication about development refers to informing the citizens of donor countries about what development cooperation is, how it works, and why it matters (Scott 2014). This is easier said than done in light of the pressure to demonstrate aid results that followed the adoption of the Paris Declaration on Aid Effectiveness in 2005. The rise of attention to results is evident in a report commissioned by the Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD)10 that differentiates between “communication about results”, akin to corporate

Introduction

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communication, and “communication for results”, understood as “a tool as well as a process for the effective delivery of aid programmes” (da Costa 2009). According to the OECD, public information is important in order to counteract “misperceptions about how development funds are used, the results they achieve, or even about the government’s rationale for delivering development co-operation the ways it does” (OECD 2014a, 15). Aside from this understanding, which is standard among practitioners, communication scholar Karin Wilkins (2009) has used the expression “communication about development” to define a “critical approach to understanding the ways in which development approaches communicate assumptions about strategic social change” (see also Wilkins and Mody 2001; Mody 2012; Wilkins 2016). This is a most relevant contribution towards adopting communication as an analytical lens in order to reveal the ways in which distinct international development cooperation stakeholders frame problems and solutions. But at the same time, given the overlapping terminology, it can be read as a sign of distance between the concerns and lexicons of practitioners and scholars in the field (a problem discussed by Waisbord 2010). As this Introduction suggests, the divides that we are seeking to address go in at least two directions. On the one hand, a divide between two presumably distinct and distinguishable uses of communication in development cooperation. On the other hand, a divide between scholars and practitioners manifested in their differential understandings. The chapters in this collection contribute to theorizing across communication for and about development by analyzing how and why these interrelate in specific contexts, and to which effects, from an integrated perspective. Attentive to the complex realities of international development cooperation and the ambiguity of mediated communication (Enghel 2014), our central concern is to identify and begin to assess how variations of these functions operate. In our view, actual practices defeat abstract separations, and getting them right calls for dialogue and collaboration across turfs.

Defining the key concepts: practices, doing/looking good, hybridity and (in)visibility Four key concepts guided the process of generating this collection: practices, doing/ looking good, hybridity, and (in)visibility. We introduce them in this section.

Practices This collection focuses on communication and media in development as core elements of specific practices11 rather than as texts (Enghel 2014; Hesmondhalgh 2013). Practices are at the centre of the relationship between the agency exercised by human subjects and the conditions set by social structures, and can be observed regardless of disagreements about what motivates them.12 They are recognizable “arrays of human activity” (Schatzki 2000, 11) that take place within material

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configurations, manifesting both as patterns (which endure between and across specific moments of enactment, and can thus serve as a set of resources to draw upon when practicing further) and as performances (that take place as successive situated acts of “doing”) (Shove, Pantzar, and Watson 2012, 7). A focus on practice makes it possible to distinguish between micro- and macro-levels, and to draw connections between them (as demonstrated by Enghel, Wilson, and Kogen in this collection). The “practice turn” observed in contemporary social theory (Schatzki, Knorr Cetina, and von Savigny 2001) has received increasing attention within communication and media scholarship (although it remains generally overlooked in studies of communication for development), leading to insights of relevance to this collection. Hesmondhalgh and Toynbee argue that “media making can be instrumental – in other words, subject to market control or more broadly influenced by powerful social forces – and yet at the same time exist as a zone of relative autonomy and counter-intuitive expression” (2008, 21). Media production is thus an ambiguous practice, open to more than one outcome: it can contribute to sustaining certain “rules of the game” and relations of power, and at the same time be free to act independently at some levels, combining elements of continuity and reproduction alongside elements of novelty and distinction (as is the case in Scott et al. and Noske-Turner et al. in this collection). The relative freedom to act enabled by media making to which Hesmondhalgh and Toynbee (2008) refer is linked to Postill’s argument that “media practitioners, practices and technologies migrate and circulate across field boundaries unevenly, with some practical elements exhibiting a greater in-built ‘detachability’ and ‘reproducibility’ than others” (Postill 2010, 15, 18 and 26). This migrational quality points our attention to the blurring boundaries between communication and media practices identified in several contributions to this collection, e.g. between communication for development and evaluation (Ramírez and Quarry), branding and communication about development (Wilkins), or communication for achieving and telling results (da Costa). Concerned instead with structuration, Couldry (2010) raises the question of how media practices anchor, control, or organise others. That is, which media practices “are defined as part of a larger practice which provides its key reference points” – for example, political marketing, lobbying, and campaigning as part of the wider practice of politics – and how changes in one lead to reformulation of the other (Couldry 2010, 42). If the media in fact “anchor other practices through the ‘authoritative’ representations and enactments of key terms and categories that they provide” (Couldry 2010, 42–3), then it is necessary to investigate how this anchoring works, and what its consequences might be for the organisation of said practices – a problem considered by Scott et al., Wilson, Noske-Turner et al., and Ramírez and Quarry in this collection. Referring to communication as a practice, Craig observes that it “involves much more than using conscious techniques to achieve predetermined goals”, and argues that “a practice derives its value from more than just the ‘external’ goods or pragmatic outcomes it produces” (2006, 44) – an issue analysed by Enghel, Wilkins, and Kogen in this collection. The matter of value is directly linked to our next key concept.

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Doing/looking good In Looking good and doing good: corporate philanthropy and corporate power, Himmelstein (1997) looks into the contradictions inherent in corporate philanthropy in the 1990s, considering the tension between using charitable contributions to further the interests of a company, and to solve a community or societal problem: investments in “doing good” must always speak to the strategic interests of the company in one way or another. This practical, double value is in turn identified by Wilkins (2016) for the case of communication in development: “While critical scholarship raises concerns with how development discourse limits possibilities for civic engagement and social change, development institutions themselves are quite aware and strategic about their public relations, caring not only about doing good but also about looking good while doing so (Kremer, van Lieshout, and Went 2009)”.13 Both authors call attention to the tricky tension that is central to this collection, between doing good for others – i.e. advancing the wider project of global sustainable development for all – and doing good for oneself – i.e. managing the reputation of specific stakeholders within international development cooperation. Attentive to this duplicity, and following Raymond Williams’ methodological approach to his Keywords (1983), we conceptualise doing good and looking good broadly as the extremes of a range of possible intermediate uses of communication and media in international development cooperation – an initial definition to which each of the chapters in this collection will give nuance. Elements of both may overlap, and compete or show synergy, thus leading to more or less ethical practices and democratizing outcomes that may be differential across both ends of the donor–recipient equation. Whether there is competition or synergy can be further discerned by drawing on Richey’s differentiation between good-doing and do-gooding in her introduction to Celebrity humanitarianism and North-South relations (2016, 13), where she highlights Littler’s (2008, 240) definition of do-gooding as a “useful catch-all concept” that describes “a particular type of response to suffering at a distance – one that “generates a lot of hype and PR but is relatively insignificant in relation to international and governmental policy”. This differentiation can serve as an analytical lens for unpacking hybrid practices. The various chapters in this collection contribute rich examples of motivations for, and concrete approaches to, doing good and looking good, that are perceived and treated by some stakeholders as mutually defeating (Scott et al., Wilson, NoskeTurner et al.) but could be handled otherwise (Ramírez and Quarry; da Costa); that actually defeat each other, with publicity prevailing over democratic substance (Enghel, Wilkins, and Kogen); or that shift depending on practitioners’ perceptions of how audiences understand good development (Wilson).

Hybridity Attention to hybridity allows us to consider existing uses of communication and media in international development cooperation beyond fixed categorisations.

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Recent scholarly and grey literature points in this direction. Scott (2014, 41–6) calls attention to hybrid forms in a discussion of the role of media in addressing or exacerbating poverty and inequality. In his view, available theoretical frameworks do not fully capture the wide range of existing practices, which makes it difficult to consider the pros and cons of those projects that “incorporate objectives associated with either media development or media advocacy”. One of us (editors of this collection) has defined the Videoletters Project (of which more in Chapter 1) as “a hybrid mediated communication intervention that combined elements of various practices” (Enghel 2016, 10), avoiding the categorisation of the project into a strict theoretical type for the reason noted by Durham Peters: that “[f]orms alone of communication matter less than what is done with them (2006, 124)”). Morris (2003, 227) pointed at hybridity in noting that Although participatory communication is often defined in contrast to the more traditional diffusion model, the two are not polar opposites. The diffusion model has evolved in a participatory direction since its initial formulation, and participatory projects necessarily involve some element of information transfer. In a review of major donor support for media-related activities based on OECD data on Official Development Assistance, González Cahuapé-Casaux and Kalatil identify four categories reported by donors: media development, communication for development, public diplomacy, and media infrastructure (2015, 7–8). The authors stress that, because their categorisation was derived from the limited information available in the OECD database, the boundaries between the categories reviewed are not always clear: “projects are frequently hybrids (e.g., a project that supports community radios might include an information campaign on human rights and the promotion of some donor activity)”.14 Once we take these considerations into account, the question raised in the title of this collection – doing good or looking good? – can be rendered into a false dichotomy, which the various chapters contribute to overcome. For example, hybridity is embraced as a strategic solution to existing divides that constrain the practice of communication for development by Ramírez and Quarry, and deployed as an analytical lens by Enghel to unpack the subtle mechanics of a project that mostly failed to do good but registered as having fully succeeded at it.

(In)visibility Because uses of communication in international development are largely unregulated, issues of accountability for its planning, implementation, and funding (as well as of the ethics of practice in the absence of professional standards and codes) remain under-researched. Therefore, the specific sociopolitical consequences of said uses tend to go unrecorded, and the responsibilities of various stakeholders remain unclear and unchallenged (Enghel 2014). According to Brighenti (2007, 339),

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“The exercise of power is always an exercise in activating selective in/visibilities”. We take her conceptualisation of “the invisible” as what is considered normal, and thus “unmarked, unnoticed, unthematized, untheorized” (Brighenti 2007, 326), as a call to tease out aspects of the duality of communication in development (or alternatively of the communicative dimension of the good-doing/do-gooding duality) that existing studies have tended to do away with. The chapters by Enghel, Wilson, and Noske-Turner et al. pay special attention to identifying visible and less visible elements of the dynamics under study.

Organisation of the book This book is based on the contributions of scholars of media and communication studies and development studies, and of expert practitioners. It builds on discussions first held at the panel “The politics of ‘looking good’ whilst ‘doing good’: Understanding the role(s) of media in international development” convened by one of us for the 2016 edition of the Development Studies Association annual conference.15 The chapters address two overarching research questions. How do different stakeholders handle the double imperative to use communication to do good and to look good? And how do they tread the fine line between adequately informing relevant audiences about the nature and value of pursuing sustainable development, and merely publicizing their specific aid contributions and raison d’être? Contributions are organised into two threads, which we introduce next.

“For” and “about”: interrogating practices across domains Part I comprises four contributions that exemplify the multidimensional nature of international development cooperation by looking into varied practices in different domains, each adopting diverse methodologies. The analysis of empirical data serves as the basis to explore and interpret how doing good and looking good are produced in specific contexts. Chapter 1, “A ‘success story’ unpacked: doing good and communicating do-gooding in the Videoletters Project”, by Florencia Enghel, is a qualitative account of how, in 2005, a case of international media assistance to the Western Balkans achieved a high profile in Europe and the US, where it registered as positive enterprise although it failed to mediate reconciliation among the ordinary citizens of the former Yugoslavia. The project, outsourced by the Ministries of Foreign Affairs of the United Kingdom and The Netherlands to two filmmakers from Amsterdam, promised that it would reconnect people across a war-torn region by combining video correspondence, a documentary series, and Internet-enabled interaction. Although the extent of good actually done in this respect was very limited, Videoletters nonetheless succeeded in communicating do-gooding. The chapter demonstrates how the project’s presumed communicative power to reunite former enemies operated in Western circles. The documentary film sector praised it; journalists framed it as a success; and scholars adopted the positive news coverage

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to quote the project as a good example. Donors, in turn, used the news coverage as proof of the value of their investment. For them, Videoletters was a hybrid from the outset, with funding earmarked both for doing good and for communicating the enterprise as positive. Partly because of the positive publicity achieved, the project’s failure on the ground remained out of sight. In Chapter 2, “‘Doing good’ and ‘looking good’ in global humanitarian reporting: is philanthro-journalism good news?”, Martin Scott, Kate Wright, and Mel Bunce report on a multi-method study of the humanitarian news agency IRIN. Conducted during a period of organisational transition, the study identified tensions between the agency’s journalistic work, aimed at doing good, and its funder’s motivation to accrue symbolic capital by supporting a good cause. In 2015, IRIN went from being funded for 19 years by its creator, the UN’s Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA), to receiving support for 11 months from the Jynwel Foundation, the philanthropic arm of a Hong Kong-based private equity investment firm. The chapter analyses the interrelationship between IRIN’s mission to deliver “public service” humanitarian news and Jynwel’s presupposed intention to look good by saving it from closure. While Jynwel insisted on maximizing visibility and audience reach in order to generate revenues, IRIN’s staff, weary of the Foundation’s potential influence in editorial decision-making, negotiated the nature and extent of certain changes proposed by the funder from a journalistic logic. In this context, Jewel’s observable influence over IRIN’s work was limited. Ben Wilson’s Chapter 3, “Shifting development discourses in public and in private: the case of the Scotland-Malawi partnership”, analyses the efforts of a large civil society stakeholder to advance an approach to bilateral relationships based on mutual reciprocity rather than hierarchical charity. Drawing on qualitative data from a study of the Scotland Malawi Partnership (SMP), a community-based network of organisations funded by the Scottish government that represents more than 1,000 member organisations, the chapter identifies gaps between practitioners’ discourses and actions, and moreover between their public and private discourses. Shifts in discourses depend on varying interpretations of what will look good to different audiences. In this context, the SMP’s efforts to institute partnership as “good development” are constrained by the lasting impact of charity approaches on public discourses. Chapter 4 closes this first part. In “Communicating about development and the challenge of doing well: donor branding in the West Bank”, Karin Wilkins distinguishes between bilateral agencies’ work to do good and their responsibility to do well, arguing that efforts to brand their doing good interfere with due attention to their accountability for doing well. Based on an ethnographic walk along the cities of Bethlehem and Hebron in the southern West Bank, and attentive to the intricacies of foreign intervention in the Palestinian territories, the chapter maps a series of donor plaques situated in public places to mark instances of good work done. Taking into account how these plaques look, what they say, where they are placed, and to which donor they belong, the chapter analyses critically what they

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signify in terms of the problems addressed, the solutions proposed, and the types of intervention foregrounded by the various donors, as well as issues of competition versus collaboration among them. The chapter serves a stark reminder of the materiality of communicative practices that may seem outdated to digital natives, but are still systematically used by bilateral agencies to highlight their do-gooding in conflict zones.

What next? Rethinking conventional approaches Part II introduces four contributions that reflect upon a range of practices managed or underpinned by multilateral and bilateral agencies. These chapters consider how to improve the substance and the quality of communication work in development, drawing largely on action-research and practitioners’ expertise and reflection. In Chapter 5, “Becoming visible: an institutional histories approach to understanding practices and tensions in communication for development”, Jessica Noske-Turner, Jo Tacchi, and Vinod Pavarala analyse the institutional constraints faced by communication for development (C4D) teams within multilateral agencies. Based on findings from a collaborative research project with UNICEF, the chapter analyses how C4D teams struggle to find a balance between fulfilling their mission and securing internal and external recognition for their work. In an institutional context concerned with producing tangible outcomes that will look good to decision-makers, various factors obstruct the viability of C4D work. The chapter demonstrates that the long-held view that intra-agency C4D teams tend to fall prey to public relation units may not be the main problem at stake, identifying instead the imperative to be visible as a more significant risk. The authors signal the continued need to generate reliable evidence of the contribution of C4D work to sustainable development aimed at key decision-makers within and outside agencies, and call attention to the operational instability derived from teams’ inability to administer their budgets to that effect. Chapter 6, “For celebrity communication about development to do good: reframing purpose and discourse”, by Lauren Kogen, draws on a critical discourse analysis of TV appearances by George Clooney and Angelina Jolie on behalf of the UN between 2001 and 2017 to establish a distinction between communication about development that does harm, and communication about development that does good. Going beyond the analysis of how UN-driven communication about development looks superficially good by engaging celebrities for show, the chapter makes a concrete proposal towards how it may do good if reframed within an understanding of both the multilateral agency and these Hollywood stars as powerful communicators with ethical responsibilities for the messages they disseminate. In this way, it adds political value to the consideration of the representational quality of celebrity intervention in the development arena. In Chapter 7, “Communication and evaluation: can a decision-making hybrid reframe an age-old dichotomy?”, Ricardo Ramírez and Wendy Quarry propose a reflexive turn on the practice of communication for development, looking

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critically at how they had previously understood the relationship between participatory communication and public relations in their professional work, and incorporating attention to evaluation. Based on the practical wisdom achieved through an action research project that they designed and implemented for the Canadian International Development Research Centre (IDRC), the authors address the push-and-pull between evaluation and communication in a pragmatic way, identifying synergies between them. The chapter puts forward a multi-purpose understanding of the role of communication in development, defining hybridity as a rich quality, and illustrates the positive outcomes of a collaborative approach to the strategic planning of the evaluation and communication components of donor-driven initiatives. Chapter 8, “Communicating development results in an emerging ‘post-aid’ era”, by Peter da Costa, closes this part by reflecting on the nature and the future of the communication of results in the context of the changing architecture of global development governance after the adoption of the 2030 Agenda. Understood as a pragmatic combination of elements of communication for and about development, public information about results is considered from the perspective of a necessary shift from the attribution of success to solo stakeholders to a focus on collaborative contributions to shared goals. The chapter identifies communicative opportunities and threats arising from the SDGs for different stakeholders across scales of governance, arguing for a convergence approach to communication and media practices in order to meet the challenge of doing good with the greatest impact possible.

By way of conclusion: emerging themes We opened this introductory chapter with the argument that understanding the link between doing good and looking good is crucial because their overlap may lead to democratic deficits concerning citizens’ rights – to substantial communication and to sustainable development – across both ends of the donor–recipient equation. The chapters in this collection adapt and refine the conceptualisation of what it is to do good in international development in connection with communication and media in various ways, demonstrating that, in order to interrogate practices, we must begin by clarifying the rights and responsibilities at stake. In particular, the chapters by Enghel, Wilson, Wilkins, and Kogen identify ethical tensions where stakeholders’ motives overlap, calling attention to the instrumental value of appearing to be doing good vis-à-vis mainstream perceptions (instead, da Costa argues, thought-provokingly, that communication must lead to good development but also maximise the impact of this good-doing). Enghel, Wilkins, and Kogen also point at political responsibilities and democratic risks by identifying ways in which bilateral and multilateral agencies fulfil promotional goals by positioning themselves as good-doers without accounting for the actual impact of their interventions on the ground, or on their target audiences. The structures within which decisions regarding doing good and looking good take place have so far remained largely invisible in research, and the chapters by

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Scott et al. and by Noske-Turner et al. make a significant contribution towards demonstrating that in-depth studies within those structures are both doable and productive. Enghel adds to these contributions by linking a high-profile intervention that appeared to be driven by independents to the bilateral stakeholders that mandated and support it. Ramírez and Quarry add detail by pointing out that there is a question mark over the sustainability of their innovative solutions to the tension between doing good and showing good (via the communication of adequate evaluation), given recurrent changes in the internal organisation of IDRC. Sustainability is linked not only to the characteristics of organisational structures, but also to issues of funding, whether directly or indirectly. Scott et al. and Noske-Turner et al. note that it may have a direct bearing on the survival and freedom to act of organisations and teams, calling attention to the need to keep the matter under careful observation. More obliquely, Kogen considers the poor ethico-political quality of the high-impact appearances by rich and famous celebrities sponsored by the UN, and Wilkins argues that bilateral donors favour allocations with an obvious material weight, and therefore easy to brand, at the expense of consulting communities about their priority needs. Underlying questions regarding the rationales for spending decisions and the (im)balances between initiatives to do good and to foster do-gooding would merit further investigation. While the rules of the game imposed by large structures point at the weakness of efforts aimed at deploying communication to do good as a stable organisational component, the chapters also show that shared team histories go some way towards facilitating resilience in the face of unstable conditions. This is the case for the humanitarian news agency IRIN as demonstrated by Scott et al., for some of the UNICEF C4D teams discussed by Noske-Turner et al., and for expert practitioners Ramírez and Quarry, who draw not only on their extensive individual experience but also on their long-standing collaboration. More macro-structural factors are highlighted by Wilson, who points at the pervasive endurance of traditional understandings of development-as-charity as a factor that constrains efforts to do development better. Wilson makes a novel contribution to the analysis of development practices with communication as a lens by identifying shifts in the discourses of practitioners depending on which audiences they are addressing (an issue also raised in passing by Enghel in her chapter). His findings call attention to a performatic dimension of development work that resonates with Erving Goffman’s theoretical work, inviting further elaboration. This leads us to the last emerging theme that we want to highlight here. The chapters by Enghel, Wilson, Noske-Turner et al., Ramírez and Quarry, and da Costa, strongly suggest that where a concern with looking good prevails (regardless of its various motivations), specific audiences are in focus, and that identifying those audiences helps unravel the question raised by Waisbord in his epilogue: can looking good be done better? As this collection demonstrates, the answer to that question will depend on the combination of various factors: structural issues having to do with funding rationales and organisational setups, policy and management

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decisions linked to funding, collaborative opportunities to reflect about practices and strategies (or the lack of them), and issues of democratic regulation and accountability – understood as a governmental responsibility of stakeholders, and not as an accounting exercise. Moreover, this collection indicates that the answer to Waisbord’s question seems to depend on clarifying the audiences addressed when communicating for and about development, and the purposes that drive those practices. This insight brings to mind Bella Mody’s decisive appeal from 1992: “Begin with the audience” (Mody 1992). The question, then, becomes: what are the audiences of international development cooperation nowadays? In the context of a yet emerging post-aid system, and more widely of neoliberal digital capitalism, we must revisit the methodological and analytical strategies required to answer it.

Notes 1 Be them more specific, such as journalists, public sector officers, or intra-organisation decision-makers, or wider, such as a global news market. 2 “Practitioners” refers here not to individuals, but to the professional practice at large in the context of the institutional project of development communication. See Enghel (2015, 13–15). 3 Wilkins (2016, 5–6) discusses The Narrative Project as a multi-partner initiative driven by the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation to improve the public perception of development in donor countries and counter the idea that aid is wasted. 4 An example of a straightforward public relations campaign is the 2015 European Year for Development, established “to showcase Europe’s commitment to eradicating poverty worldwide and to inspire more Europeans to get engaged and involved in development”. See https://europa.eu/eyd2015/en/content/about-2015 [accessed 22 November 2016]. 5 See Hodges and McGrath (2011) for a rare exception: a public relations study that focuses on community communication. 6 Available online at www.oecd.org/dac/effectiveness/34428351.pdf [accessed 7 December 2017]. 7 How to best name the field remains a matter of debate. See Enghel (2015, 11) for a discussion. 8 At least until 2014, when the 13th Round Table was held. See www.unesco.org/new/ en/communication- and- information/media- development/communication- forsustainable- development/un- inter- agency- round- table- on- communication- fordevelopment/ [accessed 7 December 2017]. 9 As well as confusion over how to understand and implement communication for development vis-à-vis public relations or dissemination. 10 The OECD, an international economic organisation that “brings around its table 40 countries that account for 80% of world trade and investment”, sets the rules for the monitoring and evaluation of international development cooperation – and therefore for donor-driven allocations for communication – with a focus on results-based management. According to the OECD’s own data, most communication departments within development cooperation agencies focus their investment on educating donor publics about development or convincing them that aid is working (da Costa 2009), but which proportion of those allocations is directed to communication for and about development communication intervention is unknown, because the aid statistics collated by the Organization do not detail specific expenditures. As a consequence, it is difficult to compare and analyse trends in spending or approaches (González Cahuapé-Casaux and Kalatil 2015).

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11 In this introductory chapter, communication in international development is understood as multi-scalar, and generally mediated by media. In this perspective, the media are distinct from, but closely related to, processes of communication. See Enghel (2014, 92–5) for a more detailed discussion. 12 Theories of practice have arisen within the social sciences from efforts to conceptualise the relationship between agency and structure. The debate about the relative power of structure over agency and vice versa remains complicated and far from being settled, but attention to practice is nonetheless understood to have potential for unraveling aspects of social change (Shove, Pantzar, and Watson 2012; McLeod and Thomson 2009). 13 The book referred to in Wilkins’ quote, Doing good or doing better: Development policies in a globalizing world (Kremer, van Lieshout, and Went 2009), includes a chapter by van Tulder and Fortainer (2009, 223–4) that discusses corporate responsibility in development as “doing well by doing good” in connection with the ethics of cooperating with other stakeholders based on the dialogic negotiation of solutions. 14 The report refers to communication about development in recipient countries only, under the category of public diplomacy, which is defined as “the promotion of a country’s […] aid development policy by informing and influencing the foreign audience through the media. […] It contains […] the promotion of the donor or multilateral development agency activities” (González Cahuapé-Casaux and Kalatil 2015, 8). Communication about development in donor countries is absent from their analysis, raising the question of how donors account for it in the OECD reporting system. 15 See www.nomadit.co.uk/dsa/dsa2016/panels.php5?PanelID=4621 [accessed 10 December 2017].

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——— (2014). Video letters, mediation and (proper) distance: A qualitative study of international development communication in practice, Karlstad University Press, Karlstad. ——— (2013). “Communication, development and social change: Future agendas,” in Wilkins, K., Straubhaar, J. and Kumar, S. (eds.), Global communication: New agendas, Routledge, London and New York. Eurobarometer (2013). EU development aid and the millennium development goals, TNS Opinion & Social, Brussels. Ferron, B. and Guevara, E. (2017). “Sociología política de la ‘Comunicación para el Cambio Social’: pistas para un cambio de enfoque.” Commons: Revista de Comunicación y Ciudadanía Digital 6(1). Fraser, N. (2008). Scales of justice/reimagining political space in a globalized world, Polity Press, Cambridge. Glennie, A., Straw, W. and Wild, L. (2012). Understanding public attitudes to aid and development, IPPR/ODI, London. González Cahuapé-Casaux, E. and Kalatil, S. (2015). Official development assistance for media: Figures and findings, Center for International Media Assistance, Washington, DC. Gumucio-Dagron, A. and Tufte, T. (2006). Communication for social change anthology: Historical and contemporary readings, Communication for Social Change Consortium, South Orange. Hesmondhalgh, D. (2013). The cultural industries (3rd ed.), Sage, London. Hesmondhalgh, D. and Toynbee, J. (2008). The media and social theory, Routledge, New York. Himmelstein, J. (1997). Looking good and doing good: Corporate philanthropy and corporate power, Indiana University Press, Bloomington. Hodges, C. E. M. and McGrath, N. (2011). “Communication for social transformation,” in Edwards, L. and Hodges, C. E. M. (eds.), Public relations, society and culture, Routledge, Abingdon. Kaneva, N. (2011). “Nation branding: Toward an agenda for critical research.” International Journal of Communication (5): 117–41. Kremer, M., van Lieshout, P. and Went, R. (eds.) (2009). Doing good or doing better: Development policies in a globalizing world, Amsterdam University Press, Amsterdam. Lennie, J. and Tacchi, J. (2013). Evaluating communication for development: A framework for social change, Routledge, Oxon. Linden, A. (1999). “Communicating the right to development: Towards human rights-based communication policies in Third World countries.” International Communication Gazette 61(5): 411–32. Littler, J. (2008). “‘I feel your pain’: Cosmopolitan charity and the public fashioning of the celebrity soul.” Social Semiotics 18(2): 237–51. Manyozo, L. (2012). Media, communication and development: Three approaches, Sage, New Delhi. McAnany, E. (2012). Saving the world: A brief history of communication for development and social change, University of Illinois Press, Champaign. McCall, E. (2009). “Overview of UN inter-agency round tables on communication for development: Background paper” UNDP and World Bank, Oslo. McLeod, J. and Thomson, R. (2009). Researching social change, Sage, London. Milner, H. and Tingley, D. (2013). “Public opinion and foreign aid: A review essay.” International Interactions 39(3): 389–401. Mody, B. (2012). “The potential of foreign news as international development communication.” Nordicom Review 33: 45–58. ——— (1992). Designing messages for development communication: An audience participation-based approach, Sage, Newbury Park.

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Morris, N. (2003). “A comparative analysis of the diffusion and participatory models in development communication.” Communication Theory: 225–48. Mulholland, E., Bernardo, A. and Berger, G. (2017). “Communication and awareness raising in the implementation of the 2030 agenda and the SDGs: Activities and challenges.” ESDN Quarterly Report 44, April, ESDN Office, Vienna. Nederveen Pieterse, J. (2010). Development theory: Deconstructions/reconstructions (2nd ed.), Sage, London. Noske-Turner, J. (2017). Rethinking media development through evaluation: Beyond freedom, Palgrave MacMillan/Springer, Cham. OECD (2014a). Engaging with the public: 12 lessons from DAC peer reviews and the network of DAC development communicators, OECD, Paris. ——— (2014b). Good practices in development communication, OECD, Paris. Oxford Dictionary (n.d.). Promote, accessed on 14 December 2017. https://en.oxford dictionaries.com/definition/promote Paquette, M., Sommerfeldt, E. J. and Kent, M. L. (2015). “Do the ends justify the means? Dialogue, development communication, and deontological ethics.” Public Relations Review 41(1): 30–9. Postill, J. (2010). “Introduction: Theorising media and practice,” in Bräuchler, B. and Postill, J. (eds.), Theorising media and practice (pp. 1–32), Benghahn, New York and Oxford. Richey, L. (ed.) (2016). Celebrity humanitarianism and North-South relations: Politics, place and power, Routledge, Oxon. Schatzki, T. R. (2001). “Introduction: Practice theory,” in Schatzki, T. R., Knorr Cetina, K. and von Savigny, E. (eds.), The practice turn in contemporary theory, Routledge, London. Schatzki, T. R., Knorr Cetina, K. and von Savigny, E. (eds.) (2001). The practice turn in contemporary theory, Routledge, London. Scott, M. (2014). Media and development, Zed Books, London. Servaes, J. (2007). “Communication for development: Making a difference, a WCCD background study,” in Servaes, J. (ed.), World congress on communication for development: Lessons, challenges and the way forward, World Bank, Washington, DC. Shove, E., Pantzar, M. and Watson, M. (2012). The dynamics of social practice: Everyday life and how it changes, Sage, London. Sriramesh, K. (2012). “Culture and public relations: Formulating the relationship and its relevance to the practice,” in Sriramesh, K. and Vercic, D. (eds.), Culture and public relations: Links and implications, Routledge, New York. Thomas, P. and van de Fliert, E. (2014). Interrogating the theory and practice of communication for social change: The basis for a renewal, Palgrave MacMillan, Hampshire and New York. van Tulder, R. and Fortainer, F. (2009). “Business and sustainable development: From passive involvement to active partnerships,” in Kremer, M., van Lieshout, P. and Went, R. (eds.), Doing good or doing better: Development policies in a globalizing world, University Press Amsterdam, Amsterdam. Waisbord, S. (2010). “Talking about theory and practice,” accessed on 18 December 2017. https://blogs.worldbank.org/publicsphere/talking-about-theory-and-practice ——— (2008). “The institutional challenges of participatory communication in international aid.” Social Identities: Journal for the Study of Race, Nation and Culture 14(4): 505–22. ——— (2001). “Family tree of theories, methodologies and strategies in development communication.” Rockefeller Foundation, New York. Wilkins, K. (2016). Communicating gender and advocating accountability in global development, Palgrave MacMillan, Hampshire and New York.

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——— (2009). “What’s in a name? Problematizing communication’s shift from development to social change.” Glocal Times, (13), November. ——— (2008). “Development communication,” in Donsbach, W. (ed.), The international encyclopedia of communication, Blackwell Publishing, Oxford. Wilkins, K. and Mody, B. (2001). “Reshaping development communication: Developing communication and communicating development.” Communication Theory 11(4): 385–96. Williams, R. (1983). Keywords: A vocabulary of society and culture, Oxford University Press, New York.

PART I

“For” and “about”: Interrogating practices across domains

1 A “SUCCESS STORY” UNPACKED Doing good and communicating do-gooding in the Videoletters Project Florencia Enghel

Introduction On 2 April 2005, Videoletters premiered in Sarajevo, the capital of BosniaHerzegovina. The event, organised to celebrate the project’s readiness for intervention in order to facilitate reconciliation across the former Yugoslavia, was at the same time a public relations move that brought together Videoletters’ proponents, its protagonists, representatives of its European funders, and Western journalists. Expectations were high. An article published by BBC News on 8 April 2005 quoted an executive from Bosnia-Herzegovina Television (BHT) present at the launch as saying: “I think it will have an impact in changing the way people think. They will think less about their country and more about relations between their friends” (Prodger 2005). He was referring to the project’s centrepiece: a 12-episode documentary television series narrating stories of reencounter among people who had been separated by the violent breakup of the former Yugoslavia, but gotten in touch again thanks to video-mediated correspondence. The series was scheduled to be broadcast throughout the region, and the ambition was that it would move people in every successor state to overcome ethno-political divides. The broadcast was to be complemented by a dedicated Internet platform for do-it-yourself reconciliation, and a tour of the region to screen episodes of the series in public spaces and facilitate their discussion. In a nutshell, Videoletters would reconnect the Western Balkans.1 The project was welcomed internationally: reported on by the press, spotlighted in documentary film festivals, and referred to in scholarly work and policy forums. This happened despite the fact that Videoletter’s promise to mediate reconciliation across the successor states was not fulfilled. Or in other words: although the project did a very limited amount of good, it nonetheless communicated do-gooding successfully. Based on a qualitative study of the project (Enghel 2014), in this chapter

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I consider overlaps, disconnects and tensions in the use of various forms of mediated of communication to do good and to make intervention look good in international development cooperation.

The double nature of development communication International media assistance2 to the Western Balkans took place alongside military intervention and peacekeeping/peacebuilding operations since the signature of the Dayton Peace Agreement in 1995 and until 2006, when it was phased out (ICG 1997; Thompson and De Luce 2002; Kurspahic 2003; Allen and Stremlau 2005; Rhodes 2007). The Videoletters Project was a high-profile case of this assistance. Launched in 2005 with significant backing from the British and Dutch Ministries of Foreign Affairs, it soon became a flagship of the late stage of foreign intervention in the region. Its intention to mediate reconciliation was spotlighted by the press and brought up as exemplary in scholarly work, and the documentary series that was its centrepiece was praised in film festivals. The project’s premises were that documentary-making could be a stepping stone to social change, and that a region-wide TV broadcast and an Internet-based platform could expand the speed and scope of the transformation sought. Videoletters’ explicit purpose was to promote reconciliation among ordinary citizens across the divided region. An implicit goal was to bring together the successor states’ national TV stations in support of this purpose, by inviting them to air the documentary series jointly. The project became known in Europe and the US on the grounds of its communicative power to do good, and thus registered as the product of a positive enterprise regardless of the fact that its promise to mediate large-scale reconciliation across the region’s ethno-political borders was not fulfilled. Based on a multi-dimensional qualitative study of Videoletters’ overall trajectory between inception in 2000 and fast deployment in 2005 (Enghel 2014), in this chapter I outline how uses of mediated communication to do good and to convey do-gooding coexisted in a disjointed manner in the project. I analyse these combined uses from a justice perspective (Fraser 2008) and consider their relevance for future research of actually existing development communication. The analysis counterbalances deterministic accounts of the presumed power of mediated communication to do good – i.e. to mobilise action in order to solve pressing socio-political problems – and renders visible under-researched aspects of the communication of this particular type of do-gooding.

The Western Balkans will be reconciled What was the history behind Videoletters’ premiere in Sarajevo on 2 April 2005? The project had started in 2000 as the independent initiative of two documentary filmmakers based in the Netherlands, premised on a seemingly simple idea. They would travel across the former Yugoslavia seeking people who had lost contact with a dear somebody (friend, relative, neighbor, or colleague) during the conflict,

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but were now willing to attempt reconnection. The filmmakers would then act as messengers, bringing video letters back and forth in order to facilitate the restart of conversations, and each case of correspondence would become an episode of a documentary series. It took them several years to secure funding in order to move from having facilitated a few video-based reconnections to producing an entire documentary series and arranging an ambitious intervention around it. In 2004, three episodes of the series were screened as work in progress at the prestigious International Documentary Film Festival Amsterdam (from now on, IDFA),3 in the Netherlands. By then, Videoletters had grabbed the attention of the Dutch Foreign Ministry, which agreed to fund plans for its large scale roll-out. Attended by more than 2,000 people, IDFA exposed Videoletters to the documentary-making international community. Scholar Patricia Aufderheide (2005) highlighted the project in her account of the festival for Dox, a leading European documentary magazine supported by the European Union’s Culture Program, depicting it as the moving bearer of hope: “At the IDFA premiere, the representative of Bosnian public television tried to express his hope for the series, but was unable to speak through his shaking sobs” (Aufderheide 2005, 14–15). The backing of the Dutch government, announced at IDFA, added to financial support granted by the UK’s Foreign and Commonwealth Office in 2003. Both Ministries of Foreign Affairs had decided to support the project following the advice of the Media Task Force of the Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe. The Task Force endorsed Videoletters4 as an instance of high quality television production of great importance in order to reach audiences across the former Yugoslavia (MTF 2004). At the Sarajevo premiere, the filmmakers also announced the launch of the project’s website, Videoletters.net,5 which was created to facilitate do-it-yourself Internet-based correspondence among audiences of the series. The broadcast was expected to move audiences to reconnect with each other, and the website would potentially channel this presupposed need to do so.

The Videoletters project in a nutshell Videoletters was an intervention supported by two European bilateral donors in order to facilitate, render public and mobilise reconnection among estranged citizens of the Western Balkans through the strategic use of mediated communication. Described by its proponents as “a tool for reconciliation”,6 it was implemented between early April and late July 2005 and concentrated in Serbia and BosniaHerzegovina (Enghel 2014). The project combined elements of the practice of communication for development, documentary-making for social change and media assistance into a hybrid (González Cahuapé-Casaux and Kalatil 2015). The idea, in short, was that a documentary series appealing to the human connection, televised jointly by the state broadcasters of former enemies, would attract a large audience, and move it – emotionally and in terms of action – towards reconciliation. Television was considered a powerful avenue for communicating with the citizens of the successor states,

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who were understood as being “ready for peace”. The Internet was seen to have the potential to coordinate a myriad of individual intentions to reconnect. The intervention was funded by the British Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO) and the Dutch Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA), which outsourced reconciliation to the filmmakers. The FCO provided EUR 180,000 through its Global Conflict Prevention Pool’s Balkan Strategy and its Belgrade British Embassy (FCO 2013), and the Dutch MFA provided EUR 1,14 million through its Western Balkans Division (Ministerie van BuitenlandseZaken 2011). In both cases, funds were earmarked not only for doing good, but also for communicating do-gooding7 (FCO 2013; Interviews D and O in Enghel 2014). Following contractual arrangements with the respective government agencies, the filmmakers acted as the project’s managers on the ground, and as its representatives in the global public sphere. I first came across the project in 2004 while browsing the IDFA website.8 At the time, I was working as a film producer in my hometown, Buenos Aires, in Argentina. Months later, in my capacity as editor of Glocal Times, a communication for development web magazine published by Malmö University in Sweden, I contacted the filmmakers via Videoletters.net and arranged an interview. At that point, the initiative looked to me like a dream project that would cover several bases with a bearing on the communicative fabric of society, and this good impression is evident in the article that I wrote after the interview.9

Communication as tool and trouble Within the international development cooperation system, uses of mediated communication to do good are generally expected to yield success in the form of straightforward links between actions taken and results achieved, and of prescriptions for scaling-up and replication. This mindset interferes with the critical study of communication as both tool and trouble (Silverstone 1999; Hesmondhalgh and Toynbee 2008). Drawing on considerations by media and communications scholar Roger Silverstone (2005) and political theorist Chantal Mouffe (2005), I framed my study of Videoletters within an understanding of international development communication as a political form of mediation with multi-sited consequences (Enghel 2014, 2016). Mediation is a key word here, understood, following Raymond Williams (1983, 205), as intermediate, indirect agency between otherwise separated parties to a relationship. This definition allowed me to decouple development communication from technical understandings of mediated intervention as some thing with its own determining properties, and to consider instead the ways in which its practice on the ground, the institutional project that underpins it, and its symbolic take-up by other social agents, may act as “agencies for quite other than their primary purposes” (Williams 1983, 204): not only to do good, but also to communicate do-gooding. When development communication is deployed to do good, processes of mediation connect10 donor countries – via specific interventions and their implementers – to

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their beneficiaries of choice – the citizens of recipient countries, and sometimes their governments (Enghel 2016). In the case of Videoletters, the Ministries of Foreign Affairs of the Netherlands and the UK sought to promote reconciliation among ordinary citizens of the successor states by way of the filmmakers’ project, and addressed the governments of those states by proxy via their national broadcasters, which were approached to air the documentary series. When the deployment of development communication serves to communicate do-gooding,11 a story about how development communication works well to do good for distant others in need is told to a donor’s tax-paying constituency. The story connects the donor with its own citizens and, by extension, with a presumed global audience (Enghel 2016). In the case of Videoletters, the storyline was that watching a moving documentary together would lead a divided region to reconnect and reconcile. Following Williams (1983), uses of mediated communication to do good and communicate do-gooding should not be understood as opposites: in actually existing interventions, they are in fact extremes of a range of possible intermediate instances where elements of both may overlap and compete. In the case of Videoletters, the overlap was an observable empirical fact that exemplifies well Silverstone’s (1999) conceptualisation of the media as “tool and trouble”. A given mediated communication intervention may be intended as a “tool” for positive social change, but it is also “trouble” inasmuch as its proponents’ concern with reputation management may interfere with their duty of care towards the subjects that the intervention is meant to benefit. To quote Silverstone: We need to be able to identify those moments where the process appears to break down. Where it is distorted by technology or intention. We need to understand its politics: its vulnerability to the exercise of power; its dependence on the work of institutions as well as individuals; and its own power to persuade and to claim attention and response. Silverstone 1999, 18 Because all interventions “make a difference (to the better or worse)” (Terzis and Vassiliadou 2008, 387; see also Whiteman 2004), it is especially important to understand shifts or distortions in the communicative purposes of stakeholders.

Brief discussion of method I studied Videoletters qualitatively, in retrospect, to answer the question: how did the project take place in practice? I analysed the case as a process of intervention contextually situated in geopolitical and institutional ways, following it as a thing over time – from its very inception to its afterlife as a “good idea” – and across sites – in the Western Balkans where it was supposed to do good, and in Western circles where it came to look good.12 I compared the project’s deployment in practice

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with its narrative of success, paying attention to contextual variations (Schiller 2009; Marcus 1995). This methodological approach allowed me to establish Videoletters’ differential power as a maker of text, as a strategy for the management of international intervention, and as an agent of change (Hesmondhalgh 2013; Enghel 2014). Data collection took place in two stages (April 2012–July 2013, and September 2013–January 2014) and in several locations: Belgrade (Serbia), Sarajevo (BiH), Amsterdam and The Hague (The Netherlands), with additional queries made via email and Internet telephony in the UK, the United States, and Rwanda. A total of 25 interviews were used to ask a variety of case participants about factual aspects of the project and their opinions regarding the initiative. Sampling was initially strategic but at the same time exploratory, to allow for variety, and then increasingly purposive. The documents retrieved were varied, including episodes of the documentary TV series, the project’s press kit and promotional materials, press clippings and TV press coverage, project reports and related official documents, and web archives. I analysed interviews to identify central themes, meaningful patterns, and similarities and differences among responses; and documents to identify factual detail, corroborate information from other sources, and tease out analytical insights. I triangulated the multiple sources of evidence as a validation strategy, and data richness moreover allowed me to view and show the case from several angles and vantage points (Creswell 2013; Hammersley and Atkinson 2007; Thomas 2011). Videoletters is a case both rare and representative of the use of mediated communication in international cooperation (Yin 2009; Enghel 2014, 103–4 and 117–18). It is rare in that it raised a large amount of bilateral funding, which is unusual in the context of ever-shrinking budgets for communication, and it achieved visibility in the international press and among scholars. These combined characteristics are infrequent (Inagaki 2007). At the same time, despite its atypical features, it is also representative – or typical – of how other documented cases of international development intervention have played out in practice13 (Anderson, Brown, and Jean 2012; Waisbord 2008; Enghel 2014, 235–6). The empirical richness that resulted from the case’s duplicity as rare and representative allowed me to analyse development communication intervention as a complex process. Videoletters thus matters not only as the object of my study, but also as a product of the inquiry (Creswell 2013; Flyvbjerg 2006; Small 2009).

Doing good? The project resorted to video, television and the Internet, presuming that each of them would lead to a specific form of media engagement and trigger particular effects among the citizens of the successor states: to facilitate interpersonal correspondence, to show – and thus exemplify and promote – reconnection, and to enable do-it-yourself reconciliation respectively (Enghel 2014, 135–6 and 215–21). My analysis showed that the project operated on the basis of three explicit premises. The first was that these citizens needed to reconnect with dear-but-distantiated

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others across ethno-political divides, and that this need could be addressed by facilitating video-based correspondence among the estranged parties (interview A in Enghel 2014; Videoletters website n.d.). The project started with the facilitation of interpersonal “video letters”. A “video letter” was a videotaped message from one person living somewhere in the successor states to someone that s/he used to coexist with until the region’s violent breakup distantiated them. Each taped “video letter” was delivered personally by the filmmakers, who recorded the back and forth of re-establishing correspondence. Based on several exchanges of “video letters” among different people, twelve “videoletters” were then created as 30 minute episodes of a documentary series for television. Each episode told the story of two parties re-engaging in correspondence. The project’s second premise was that broadcasting those stories of reconnection would move audiences across the region both emotionally and to act, inspiring them to seek to re-establish communication with lost others (interviews A and D in Enghel 2014; Aufderheide 2005). The third premise was that, once the need to reconnect with estranged others became evident to these audiences, they could be directed towards an especially designed interactive website, and prompted to engage in “do-it-yourself ” correspondence. The series was expected to have an exemplary effect that, once multiplied via the TV broadcast, would be channeled online. The assumption was that the project’s website would enable full regional coverage of the need of individual citizens to reconnect: the provision of (at that time new) interactive technology would replace the filmmakers’ initial face-to-face facilitation as seen in the documentary series, expanding its reach (interviews A, D and P in Enghel 2014). The overall idea was typical of donor-driven intervention in international development: that the solution prescribed – reconciliation – could be scaled up and managed by way of a combination of media-driven strategies (Videoletters website n.d.; MTF 2004; FCO 2013). My research showed, however, that ambitions did not tally with events. To begin with, the goal that all state broadcasters would synchronise the broadcast of the series, thus producing a region-wide media event to bring audiences together, was met with strong political resistance. Despite diplomatic pressure, the Croatian and Serbian broadcasters refused to show specific episodes on the grounds that they were contrary to their national interests, and only aired the series reluctantly – at odd hours, and without publicity (interviews R and Z in Enghel 2014). Videoletters was scantly watched, with an average audience reach of 6.29% in Serbia and of 3.87% in BiH.14 The project’s website did not gain traction either, for various reasons. Reluctant as they were to publicly overcome their differences, the TV stations did not advertise its existence. Moreover, its design, commissioned in the Netherlands, was not to suited to the Western Balkans’ infrastructure, where connectivity and access were scarce (interviews D and T in Enghel 2014), and the socio-political situation discouraged take-up in various ways. At a time when Facebook “friending” was unknown and anonymous hate speech in listservs was the rule, the idea that the

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Internet could be used to connect with distant others seemed strange (interview C in Enghel 2014; Volcic and Andrejevic 2009). And, in light of the social control derived from the ethnically engineered divisions that followed from the Yugoslavian breakup (Shaw and Stiks 2013), the public visibility implied in using the project’s website to reach out to others defined as enemies was perceived by potential users as risky exposure (interviews A and D in Enghel 2014). Partly because the project failed to anticipate and/or take into account sociopolitical and infrastructural conditions on the ground, the chain reaction anticipated, by which the series’ broadcast would lead a mass audience to the website and the website would channel large-scale reconnection, turned out to be a house of cards. In the end, Videoletters’ argument that dialogue among parties distantiated by ethno-politics could be facilitated by reigniting the “human connection” was only verifiable at the project’s initial stage, when the filmmakers worked hard to promote communication among distantiated parties by putting themselves in between the correspondents, carrying video letters back and forth, and encouraging parties to view them, reflect about the messages and their emotions, and respond. The video-based correspondence directly facilitated by the filmmakers in the process of producing the series did, even if on a very small scale, link private-public and micro-macro dimensions, leading to some actual reconnections. This was the only stage of the project in which certain distances, experienced individually but tightly connected to the socio-political circumstances, were bridged: some citizens were actually reached by Videoletters, and a very limited amount of good, in the form of facilitating a few reencounters, was done as a consequence. But the documentary series’ message of reconciliation wasn’t televised in primetime, viewership across the region was far from massive, and the project’s website was mainly used for promotional purposes in the end.

Looking good In parallel with its faulty deployment on the ground, and notably disconnected from it, Videoletters became known as an example of communication’s power to do good within a circle that encompassed documentary film festival programmers, journalists, and academics, with the filmmakers at the centre. This circle produced and circulated the “good news” that the media were moving the former Yugoslavia towards reconciliation.

Public relations events → positive news coverage Between 2004 and 2005, three events starring the filmmakers led to positive news coverage,15 contributing to Videoletters’ newsworthiness. The first was the documentary series’ inclusion in the line-up of the prestigious IDFA in November 2004 (Schiller 2009; Vilhjálmsdóttir 2011). According to a Dutch MFA representative, this gave them “a possibility to grant, to create some publicity for [the filmmakers], so I asked one of our director generals to give a speech and to give them the

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subsidy” (interview O). Coverage of IDFA referred to Videoletters as “remarkable work” and to the filmmakers as dedicated and hard-working “independents” that “not only created the series, but also negotiated the unprecedented simultaneous broadcast” (Aufderheide 2005, 14–15). The second event was the project’s launch in Sarajevo in April 2005, funded by the Dutch MFA as per contractual agreements. The BBC’s coverage of the launch referred to the documentary’s broadcast as widely agreed-upon: “Television stations in every country, from Slovenia in the north to Macedonia in the south, along with Kosovo, have agreed to broadcast the Videoletters project” (Prodger 2005). The moving nature of the series was also highlighted: “[X] from Bosnia-Hercegovina Television (BHT) says: ‘I saw the first three episodes of this series and I was speechless. Other TV executives were in tears’” (Prodger 2005). The third event, in June 2005, was Videoletters’ inclusion in yet another prestigious documentary film festival, the Human Rights Watch Film Festival (HRWFF) held yearly in New York to highlight films that portray human rights concerns, where the filmmakers received the Néstor Almendros Award for courage in filmmaking16 (Schiller 2009). This led to coverage by The New York Times, repurposed for publication in the International Herald Tribune as well (Riding 2005a, 2005b), which qualified the project as “extraordinary” and “unusual”.17 The filmmakers’ presumed do-gooding was in focus: “Documentary film directors are often inspired by a fair dose of idealism […]. But rare is the case where filmmakers actually set out to do good and can claim to have achieved it. [Y] and [Z] are two such directors” (Riding 2005b). According to The New York Times, Videoletters grew “bolstered by good ratings” – an overblown statement far from what rating figures in fact indicated – and the Dutch government sought to expand the project to other countries: “Israel and Palestine, Russia, Africa” – an intention that never materialised except for a pilot test in Rwanda in 2006 (Twijnstra 2007). After the HRWFF award, international TV networks showed interest: in July 2005 Videoletters was featured in a segment of the US TV program ABC News that declared it as “a smashing success”, and in November 2005 in a segment of CNN International, which characterised the series as “much more real than reality TV” and insisted on the regional broadcast as a unique, one of a kind event: “The films are the first programming to be broadcast in all six former Yugoslav republics” (Nightline 2005; Showbiztonight 2005; Live on CNN 2005). Piggybacking on Videoletters’ public appearances, Western reporting followed a formulaic storyline keen on delivering good news that were not backed by facts. Coverage referred to success although the events that prompted it either preceded (IDFA and the Sarajevo launch) or overlapped with (HRWFF) Videoletters’ implementation on the ground, making it factually impossible to report on actual impact (Enghel 2014). Success was taken for granted, and communicated as a fait accompli. The various news outlets framed Videoletters in almost identical ways: as a triumph attributable both to the filmmakers’ creativity and bravery, and to the power of the documentary’s moving images to bring about positive change (McHale 2007; Whiteman 2004).

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The power of a “simple idea” Positive coverage was further reproduced via news agencies. In May 2005, the global news agency Agence France Press, which at the time distributed stories to approximately 2,900 customers worldwide, circulated an article entitled “Reconciling the Balkans through video letters” (Wesselingh 2005): The filmmakers have decided to give television stations in the former Yugoslavia the opportunity to screen the documentary first, for free. ‘We wanted to use television as a medium to reconcile people because during the conflict it was used for propaganda and to incite hatred,’ they said.… Their dream was realized when in April the directors of the public television stations of Serbia, Montenegro, Croatia, Slovenia, Bosnia-Hercegovina and Kosovo met with them in … Ljubljana.… Every public television station in the former Yugoslavia agreed to broadcast at least ten of the video letters. It is the first time since the war that the stations have worked together on such a project. The coverage travelled as far as Taiwan, where the Taipei Times published a syndicated article according to which the filmmakers had “boosted reconciliation among people from the former Yugoslavia through the medium of film” (TaiPei Times, 2005). The project’s presumed simplicity seemed to be particularly catchy: the articles by BBC News, AFP and The International Herald Tribune all noted it. The idea is simple: the screening of ‘videoletters’ between ordinary people. Prodger 2005 The idea is simple: find people who have lost contact during the wars in the former Yugoslavia and let them make a video letter for a family member, friend or colleague. Wesselingh 2005 The idea was simple: Someone who had lost touch with, say, a childhood friend or a neighbor from a different ethnic group was invited to record a message; the directors then ran a trace and showed the videoletter to the ‘lost’ friend, who was usually eager to reply in the same way. Riding 2005b The strikingly similar remarks suggest that journalists adopted a sound bite reiterated by the filmmakers in interviews. By buying into the charm of this presumed simplicity, they arguably acted as one of the project’s most attentive niche audiences (Snow 2015, 73 and 84). In turn, the commendatory though factually insufficient narrative favoured by the news coverage fed donors’ self-serving evaluations of the project, which regarded media attention as a measure of success, equating news coverage with proof of value.

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Official documents issued by the British FCO noted that “The publicity received for the project went beyond the borders of the former Yugoslavia as the series got immense18 coverage in the international media – BBC, CNN, ABC, Canadian TV, New York Times, newspapers and magazines across Europe” (FCO 2013). Although in those documents the FCO acknowledged that the filmmakers had failed to manage the project adequately, it nonetheless considered Videoletters valuable: “We should make sure that the implementers have capacity to properly administer a project. We strongly recommend pursuing similar activities in the future” (FCO 2013).

The academic embrace Not only the news media and the donors themselves were impressed with Videoletters. The project’s narrative of success also resounded in academia. Between its launch in 2005 and 2011, long after it had come to an end, scholarly publications highlighted Videoletters as an example of how mediated communication intervention does good, and praised its presumed merits.19 Quoting Western media coverage as their source, some academics described the project as an outstanding contemporary example of intimate political reporting in which dialogic media were “utilised in the active creation of reconciliation” (Hochheimer 2007, 64; see also Hoover and Emerich 2011). Quoting instead the project’s website, others depicted it as “as a means of acknowledging and transforming history” (Daiute and Turnisky 2005, 227), and as “one of the most affecting films relating to issues of war and forgiveness […] which creates lines of communication between former enemies in ethnic conflicts” (London 2007, 261; see also Best et al. 2011; Smyth, Etherton, and Best 2010). None of these references were grounded in detailed knowledge about the project’s complexities and contradictions.20 Scholars built on the narratives relayed by the news media and by the project itself, which were inaccurate and interested accounts respectively, and in the process expanded the image of success.21 This acritical adoption of information points to a problematic blurring of the boundaries between promotional narratives and independent research assessments (Holladay and Coombs 2013, 127 and 132), calling attention to the relationship between development communication as a donor-driven institutional project, and the academic discourses that develop along with it (Craig 2006; Ferron and Guevara 2017).

Visible success and invisible failure In parallel with its faulty deployment on the ground, Videoletters’ “what” shifted from social change in recipient countries to public relations at home, and the “who” of the intervention was displaced (Fraser 2008). Although the citizens of the successor states were publicly defined by the project as the “who” of the intervention, i.e. as the subject of its concern, the “what” or purpose turned out to be not to promote large-scale reconciliation among them, but to tell a story of do-gooding in the West.

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With this shift, the citizens of the Western Balkans that Videoletters was supposed to serve became a means to an end -telling a story of do-gooding- and the citizens of donor countries became the project’s focus instead: a generic audience to be reached via the good news that mediated communication was being successfully used to promote reconciliation. The gap between Videoletters’ intention to do good and its concern with looking good was exacerbated by the fact that, as attention to the project in Western circles grew, the stated goal to facilitate reconciliation was further distorted by the story’s “own power to persuade and to claim attention and response” (Silverstone 1999). In the filmmakers’ words, What journalists wanted from us at that time, […] it’s a success story, if you read [The] New York Times about us, then, you know […] all the newspapers, all the programs, they want success stories, it’s great, and of course we kind of gave them what they wanted, we said ‘yes, it was a great success’. X: it was also a great success. Y: it’s not only a great success. X: no. Interview A22 According to my analysis, the documentary’s moving quality worked well to underpin a narrative centreed on the filmmakers’ do-gooding, in an example of a shift towards an objective other than the original one (Sassen 2008; Williams 1983, 204). This narrative led to the project’s recognition in the West, allowing donors to make a good impression in the international arena through a publicly funded intervention supposed to serve the purpose not of communicating do-gooding, but of using communication to do good (Kaneva 2011). Recognition was based on the documentary series’ perceived power as a moving narrative. Videoletters’ promotion as a story of do-gooding worked within a closedcircuit system that left out the materiality of faulty implementation on the ground, the unfulfilled promise to do good for all the citizens of the successor states, and the accountability of donors for the project’s failure to deliver on its ambitious promise. That legitimacy was granted to the project by journalists and academics in the absence of reliable data is an issue with ethical and political ramifications. The Dutch and British funders considered positive media coverage as proof of Videoletters’ success, thus deriving the value of their investment in development communication from its presumed looking good rather than from substantive evidence showing that it had brought about improvement for its supposed beneficiaries. This points to a promotional culture embedded in the governance of donor intervention such that image matters more than facts (Aronczyk 2015), and potentially to organisational hypocrisy (Holladay and Coombs 2013; Waisbord 2008). Communication’s duplicity – its potential to function both as tool and trouble, in Silverstone’s terms – thus affected the democratic quality of intervention. The gap between the limitations of Videoletters’ deployment on the ground and its representation as a valuable enterprise to citizens of donor countries (Kaneva 2011) went unnoticed.

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Conclusion The implementation of Videoletters was shaped by the enduring faith in the power of the media to effect social change that has long characterised the institutional project and the academic study of international development communication (Enghel 2015; Ferron and Guevara 2017). But it was also shaped by a concern with “communicating aid” as a positive enterprise. While on paper Videoletters was an initiative of European donors to benefit the citizens of the successor states by pacifying everyday civic communication and democratizing state media, in practice it focused largely on making the intervention look good in the eyes of the West itself. By linking Videoletters’ circulation as a “good idea” in Western circles to its funding conditions and its implementation on the ground, in this chapter I analysed the double embrace of mediated communication in donor-driven intervention as both a strategic avenue to do good and a vehicle for conveying do-gooding: its intricacies, political utility, and ethical limitations. Moreover, by identifying the specific circles of activity that contributed to making Videoletters well-known in the West, and establishing how the project gained recognition at home23 regardless of the poor quality and limited reach of its do-gooding on the ground, I showed the susceptibility of communication aimed at doing good to becoming public relations fodder. Not only the project’s funders and proponents, but also journalists, cultural workers, and scholars were implicated in these dynamics. This susceptibility may seem obvious to the reader in light of increasing empirical attention to the role of promotional practices in political communication and governance (Aronczyk 2015; Kaneva 2011) and much scholarly discussion of the marketisation of the public messages of international NGOs (Dogra 2014; Scott 2013), but studies attentive to public relations as an element of donor-driven mediated communication interventions remain rare (Paquette Sommerfeldt, and Kent 2015; Sriramesh 2012). If, as my study of Videoletters suggests, international development projects aimed at doing good through mediated communication intervention are particularly attractive to donors as promotional vehicles because of their storytelling potential to communicate the goodness of aid to their constituencies (Aronczyk 2015; Edwards 2016, 61), one significant challenge ahead for future studies is how to grasp the dynamics through which visibility – a narrative of success – and invisibility – the failure of implementation – are socially constructed through the interaction among various circles of activity that may have a vested interest in their own perpetuation (Brighenti 2007). Clarifying those dynamics would be a step towards guaranteeing that donor accountability for the quality of mediated communication intervention in recipient countries will not be overridden by positive publicity at home.

Notes 1 Reconnect was the project’s motto for publicity purposes, and in fact a much more accurate reference to what the exchange of video letters facilitated among series participants than “reconciliation”. Four of the six episodes of the Videoletters documentary series

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5 6 7

8 9 10 11 12 13

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analysed in Enghel (2014) are stories of reconnection: they combine connecting with recording to show how distantiated parties exchanged video letters, re-established correspondence, and eventually met again face to face after separation (see Enghel 2014, 145–50). A.k.a. “media support” and “media development”, media assistance is a particular approach to development communication (Wilkins 2008; Berger 2010). The festival is regarded as one of the most international and respected forums in the documentary film festival circuit (Vilhjálmsdóttir 2011). The Task Force was a temporary umbrella body created by the European Union in 1999 to promote donor coordination during the second wave of media assistance to the region. Based on the Task Force’s recommendations, funders chose to support those projects that suited their specific institutional needs and foreign policy agendas (MTF 2004). The website was turned into a static homepage in 2012, and the domain was later resold. It remains partially available as archived by the Internet Archive Wayback Machine at http://web.archive.org/web/*/videoletters.net [accessed 1 August 2017]. See www.hrw.org/legacy/iff/2005/traveling/images/videoletterspresskit.pdf [accessed 1 August 2017]. The FCO’s concern with promotion is apparent in official project documents that refer to “ensuring major impact”, request the acknowledgment of its support at all times, and ask for “a copy of any publicity materials, press articles or photographs that are generated as a result of the project” to be included in interim narrative reports (FCO 2013). An FCO representative who attended the project’s launch in Sarajevo reported to headquarters in the UK: “There was a lot of positive coverage about the support of the British government throughout the weekend, acknowledged repeatedly by the two Dutch […] film directors […] and mentioned on all the literature handed out” (FCO 2013). See www.idfa.nl/industry/tags/project.aspx?id=3f9730c4-6008-4f58-ba6b-c16286743a4a (accessed on 4 April 2018). See https://glocaltimes.mah.se/index.php/gt/article/view/20/20 [accessed 1 August 2017]. By “connect” I do not mean that actual contact will necessarily be established, but rather that these parties become related in some respect. To do good and to look good are not the only two purposes that a given intervention may serve. Videoletters also served diplomatic purposes (Enghel 2014). According to Tufte (2017), the study’s methodological design exemplifies how to generate a contextualised account of the potential and limitations of an intervention by taking into account its full cycle. Beneficiaries were treated as objects rather than subjects, and denied voice in the project itself and in news reports; project goals were decided without consultation or negotiation with representatives of recipient countries; implementation was rolled out without partnering with local civil society organisations, and announced to stakeholders as fait accompli; expenditures benefitted service providers in donor rather than recipient countries; implementation was rushed and short-lived; and the quality of the overall intervention was poor. According to data provided by Nielsen Audience Measurement-AGB Strategic Research, Serbia and Mareco Index, BiH. I refer in this analysis to all the news articles in English mentioning Videoletters that could be located online. No critical or negative news coverage published in English was located. See http://brightlightsfilm.com/capturing-chaos-2005-human-rights-watch-film-festival/#. WYBQOFFLfIU, www.hrw.org/legacy/iff/2005/london/films.html#video_letters and www.gvsu.edu/gvnow/2006/human- rights- watch- films- to- be- shown- 4274.htm [accessed 1 August 2017]. This was despite the fact that there were several precedents of the use of video letters in the region (see Enghel 2014, 139–44). My emphasis. I refer in this analysis to all the books and journal articles in English mentioning Videoletters located in relevant databases. No critical approaches to the project were found in scholarly literature published in English.

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20 My literature review identified only one academic study in English that researched Videoletters empirically: An MSc thesis (Wolterink 2006) from The Netherlands that considered it as one case among others of NGO-driven media projects as tools for reconciliation in BiH. A report to the University of Utrecht and the Dutch development organisation Oxfam Novib in turn discussed the Videoletters Rwanda Pilot Project from a practitioner perspective (Twijnstra 2007). I treated these, as well as the academic and grey literature referring to the case, as data. 21 Positive references to Videoletters’ qualities appeared also in grey literature reports. For the UN ICT Task Force, “although it is difficult to measure the success of such initiatives, it has clearly been well-received, and is reflected in other locations, such as plans by North and South Korea to build a network linking the two countries so that families separated by war can be reunited via video” (Stauffacher et al. 2005, 49). Interestingly, references to Videoletters’ replicability were made in print, but the only attempt to retool the idea in Rwanda did not take off (Twijnstra 2007; Enghel 2014, 221–2). Although replication never materialised, the idea that it could and would happen persisted nonetheless. A subsequent report from the US Centre for Citizen Diplomacy (Nassar and Tatevossian 2010, 15) stated that Videoletters “could potentially be emulated today in other regions and in a more deeply web or mobile enabled format”. 22 This raises the question of what type of research could clarify the link between “how legitimacy was sought” by the filmmakers and “why it was granted” by its supporters (Aronczyk 2015; Holladay and Coombs 2013). 23 I.e. in the donor countries that were driving intervention in the region.

References Allen, T. and Stremlau, N. (2005). “Media policy, peace and state reconstruction,” in Hemer, O. and Tufte, T. (eds.), Media and glocal change (pp. 215–32), CLACSO/Nordicom, Buenos Aires. Anderson, M., Brown, D. and Jean, I. (2012). Time to listen: Hearing people on the receiving end of international end, CDA Collaborative Learning Projects, Cambridge. Aronczyk, M. (2015). “Understanding the impact of the transnational political class on political communication.” International Journal of Communication (9): 2007–26. Aufderheide, P. (2005). “IDFA 2004: The DutchTouch.” DOX: 14–15. Berger, G. (2010). “Problematizing ‘media development’ as a bandwagon gets rolling.” International Communication Gazette: 547–65. Best, M., Long, W., Etherton, J. and Smyth, T. (2011). “Rich digital media as a tool in postconflict truth and reconciliation.” Media, War & Conflict 4(3): 231–49. Brighenti, A. (2007). “Visibility: A category for the social sciences.” Current Sociology 55(3): 323–42. Craig, R. (2006). “Communication as a practice,” in Shepherd, G., St. John, J. and Striphas, T. (eds.), Communication as… perspectives on theory (pp. 38–47), Sage, Thousand Oaks. Creswell, J. (2013). Qualitative inquiry & research design (3rd ed.), Sage, Thousand Oaks. Daiute, C. and Turnisky, M. (2005). “Young people’s stories of conflict and development in post-war Croatia.” Narrative Inquiry 15(2): 217–39. Dogra, N. (2014). Representations of global poverty: Aid, development and international NGOs, Tauris, London. Edwards, L. (2016). “The role of public relations in deliberative systems.” Journal of Communication 66(1): 60–81. Enghel, M. F. (2016). “Understanding the donor-driven practice of development communication: From media engagement to a politics of mediation.” Global Media Journal 9(1): [Canadian edition, special issue].

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——— (2015). “Towards a political economy of communication in development?” Nordicom Review 36: [Special issue]. ——— (2014). Video letters, mediation and (proper) distance: A qualitative study of international development communication in practice, Karlstad University Press, Karlstad. FCO (2013). Freedom of Information Act 2000 request ref: 0883–13, Western Balkans and Enlargement Department, Europe Directorate, London. Ferron, B. and Guevara, E. (2017). “Sociología política de la ‘Comunicación para el Cambio Social’: pistas para un cambio de enfoque.” Commons 6(1). Flyvbjerg, B. (2006). “Five misunderstandings about case-study research.” Qualitative Inquiry 12(2): 219–45. Fraser, N. (2008). Scales of justice/reimagining political space in a globalized world, Polity Press, Cambridge. González Cahuapé-Casaux, E. and Kalatil, S. (2015). Official development assistance for media: Figures and findings, Center for International Media Assistance, Washington, DC, accessed on 19 October 2017. www.cima.ned.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/03/CIMA-OfficialDevelopment-Assistance.pdf Hammersley, M. and Atkinson, P. (2007). Ethnography: Principles in practice (3rd ed.), Routledge, London and New York. Hesmondhalgh, D. (2013). The cultural industries (3rd ed.), Sage, London. Hesmondhalgh, D. and Toynbee, J. (2008). The media and social theory, Routledge, New York. Hochheimer, J. (2007). “Building ‘logos’ via communication media: Facilitating peace through reconciliation.” Javnost: The Public 14(4): 55–72. Holladay, S. and Coombs, W. (2013). “Public relations literacy: Developing critical consumers of public relations.” Public Relations Inquiry 2(2): 125–46. Hoover, S. and Emerich, M. (2011). Media, spiritualities and social change, Continuum, London. ICG (1997). International media support, International Crisis Group, Geneva. Inagaki, N. (2007). Communicating the impact of communication for development: Recent trends in empirical research, World Bank, Washington, DC. Kaneva, N. (2011). “Nation branding: Towards an agenda for critical research.” International Journal of Communication 5: 117–41. Kurspahic, K. (2003). Prime time crime/Balkan media in war and peace, United States Institute of Peace Press, Washington, DC. Live on CNN (2005). CNN International (rush transcript of broadcast hosted by Kyra Phillips), accessed on 4 November 2017. http://edition.cnn.com/TRANSCRIPTS/0511/25/ lol.01.html London, C. (2007). One day the soldiers came, Harper Collins, New York. Marcus, G. (1995). “Ethnography in/of the World System: The emergence of multi-sited ethnography.” Annual Review of Anthropology 24: 95–117. McHale, J. (2007). “Unreasonable Doubt: Using Video Documentary to Promote Justice.” In Frey, L. and Carragee, K. (eds.), Communication activism, Hampton Press, Creskill. Ministerie van BuitenlandseZaken (2011). Regionaalengeïntegreerdbeleid? Evaluatie van het Nederlandsebeleid met betrekking tot de Westelijke Balkan 2004–2008, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Government of the Netherlands, The Hague. Mouffe, C. (2005). On the political, Routledge, New York. MTF (2004). Progress report: January–June 2004, Stability Pact, Brussels. Nassar, D. and Tatevossian, A. (2010). The role of new media in advancing citizen diplomacy, US Center for Citizen Diplomacy, Washington, DC. Nightline (anchored by Chris Bury) (2005). [Television broadcast] ABC News on Demand, 11 July.

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Paquette, M., Sommerfeldt, E. J. and Kent, M. L. (2015). “Do the ends justify the means? Dialogue, development communication, and deontological ethics.” Public Relations Review 41(1): 30–9. doi:10.1016/j.pubrev.2014.10.008 Prodger, M. (2005). “Videoletters restore Balkan bonds.” BBC News, 8 April, accessed on 19 October 2017. http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/4424293.stm Rhodes, A. (2007). Ten years of media support to the Balkans: An assessment, Media Task Force of the Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe, Amsterdam. Riding, A. (2005a). “Entr’acte: Videoletters: Knitting loose ends in Balkans.” The New York Times, 9 June. ——— (2005b). “Video letters reconcile friends in the Balkans.” The New York Times, 9 June. Sassen, S. (2008). Territory, authority, rights: From medieval to global assemblages, Princeton University Press, Princeton, NJ. Schiller, N. (2009). “Framing the revolution: Circulation and meaning of ‘the revolution will not be televised’.” Mass Communication and Society 12(4): 478–502. Scott, M. (2013). Media and development, Zed Books, London. Shaw, J. and Stiks, I. (2013). “Citizenship in the new states of South Eastern Europe,” in Shaw, J. and Stiks, I. (eds.), Citizenship after Yugoslavia (pp. 1–13), Routledge, Oxford. Showbiz tonight (2005). CNN International (rush transcript of broadcast hosted by A. J. Hammer and B. Anderson 28 November), accessed on 20 July 2016. http://transcripts.cnn.com/ TRANSCRIPTS/0511/28/sbt.01.html Silverstone, R. (2005). “Mediation and communication,” in Calhoun, C., Rojek, C. and Turner, B. (eds.), The international handbook of sociology (pp. 188–207), Sage, London. ——— (1999). Why study the media?, Sage, London. Small, M. (2009). “‘How many cases do I need?’: On science and the logic of case selection in field-based research.” Ethnography 10(1): 5–38. Smyth, T., Etherton, J. and Best, M. (2010). “MOSES: Exploring new ground in media and post-conflict reconciliation.” CHI Proceedings ACM, Atlanta. Snow, N. (2015). “Public diplomacy and public relations: Will the twain ever meet?,” in Golan, G., Sung-Un, Y. and Kinsey, D. (eds.), International relations and public diplomacy/ communication and engagement (pp. 73–90), Peter Lang, New York. Sriramesh, K. (2012). “Culture and public relations: Formulating the relationship and its relevance to the practice,” in Sriramesh, K. and Vercic, D. (eds.), Culture and public relations: Links and implications, Routledge, New York. Stauffacher, D., Drake, W., Currion, P. and Steinberger, J. (2005). Information and communication technology for peace, United Nations ITC Task Force, New York. TaiPei Times (2005) “Making the world a better place” accessed on 26 February 2018. http://www.taipeitimes.com/News/feat/archives/2005/06/10/2003258777 Terzis, G. and Vassiliadou, M. (2008). “Working with media in areas affected by ethno-political conflict,” in Servaes, J. (ed.), Communication for development and social change (pp. 374–88), Sage, Delhi. Thomas, G. (2011). How to do your case study, Sage, London. Thompson, M. and De Luce, D. (2002). “Escalating to success: Media intervention in Bosnia and Herzegovina,” in Price, E. and Thompson, M. (eds.), Forging peace: Intervention, human rights and the management of media space (pp. 201–35), Edinburgh University Press, Edinburgh. Tufte, T. (2017). Communication and social change: A citizen perspective, Polity Press, Cambridge. Twijnstra, R. (2007). Videoletters Rwanda 2006: Pilot report, Utrecht. Videoletters website (n.d.). Available as archive in http://web.archive.org/web/*/www. videoletters.net/

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Vilhjálmsdóttir, L. (2011). A documentary film festival circuit and film festivals as field-configuring events. Bifröst University, Borgarnes. Volcic, Z. and Andrejevic, M. (2009). “That’s me: Nationalism and identity on Balkan reality TV.” Canadian Journal of Communication 34(1): 7–24. Waisbord, S. (2008). “The institutional challenges of participatory communication in international aid.” Social Identities: Journal for the Study of Race, Nation and Culture 14(4): 505–22. Wesselingh, I. (2005). “Reconciling the Balkans through video letters.” Agence France-Presse, 14 May. Whiteman, D. (2004). “Out of the theaters and into the streets: A coalition model of the political impact of documentary film and video.” Political Communication (21): 51–69. Wilkins, K. (2008). “Development communication,” in Donsbach, W. (ed.), The international encyclopedia of communication, Blackwell Publishing, Oxford. Williams, R. (1983). Keywords: A vocabulary of society and culture, Oxford University Press, New York. Wolterink, J. (2006). Media as a tool for reconciliation?, CIDIN, Radboud University, Nijmegen. Yin, R. (2009). Case study research: Designs and methods, Sage, Thousand Oaks.

2 “DOING GOOD” AND “LOOKING GOOD” IN GLOBAL HUMANITARIAN REPORTING Is philanthro-journalism good news?1 Martin Scott, Kate Wright and Mel Bunce

Introduction This chapter discusses the interaction of “looking good” and “doing good” in relation to the philanthropic funding of international non-profit journalism. Specifically, it investigates how a private donor’s apparent motivation to “look good” – or to generate symbolic capital – interacted with a news organisation’s ability to “do good” – by producing what they saw as public service content. We address this issue by reporting on the findings of a year-long study of IRIN. This is an online humanitarian news organisation, founded in 1995 after the Rwandan genocide by what is now the UN’s Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA). On 31 December 2014, OCHA ceased funding IRIN following, amongst other things, a series of disputes over editorial freedom. From 1 January 2015 and for the next 11 months, IRIN was funded primarily by the Jynwel Foundation, which is the philanthropic arm of the Hong Kong-based international private equity investment and advisory firm, Jynwel Capital. The Foundation’s support effectively saved IRIN from closure. During 2015, a number of news stories came out which alleged that the Chief Executive of Jynwel Capital – Taek Jho Low – may have been involved in a major international corruption scandal (see Ungoed-Thomas, Rewcastle, and Boswell 2015). Under the circumstances, the Foundation’s move to support IRIN had the potential to offer Jho Low some reputational benefits. Using extensive ethnographic access to their online newsroom, semi-structured interviews with all their staff and a content analysis of their outputs, we interrogate how and why changes in IRIN’s journalism occurred after their transition to this new donor. We also investigate the extent to which the Jynwel Foundation’s apparent desire to “look good” played into these changes. We argue that the Jynwel Foundation’s pursuit of symbolic capital was not the donor’s sole or even most significant influence over

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IRIN’s approach to public service journalism. Instead, Low’s adherence to norms and values associated with the field of philanthro-capitalism appears to have been more important. Primarily, though, our analysis makes clear that the influence of the Jynwel Foundation only had an effect on IRIN when it combined with other factors, especially journalists’ own values and organisational strategies. We begin by considering how philanthropic funding can “do good” by supporting humanitarian journalism, before explaining how the motivation to “look good” might, in theory, affect such journalism. After discussing our methodological strategies, we document the most significant changes that occurred in IRIN’s journalism before interrogating the principal causal factors that appeared to produce them.

“Doing good” by supporting humanitarian news News coverage of humanitarian issues and crises is important because it plays a vital role in informing and supporting the community of relief workers, donors, and policymakers who respond to such events. It is also the key medium through which citizens learn of faraway crises. As a result, humanitarian news has the potential to influence international donor responses, inform cultural attitudes, and impact international tourism, trade and foreign direct investment (albeit in complex and non-linear ways) (Cottle 2009). Such news is particularly important at a time of escalating global need. A combination of climate change, economic globalisation and conflict mean that nearly two thirds of the world’s population are expected to be living in fragile situations by 2030 (OECD 2014). However, engaging in regular, detailed reporting of global crises such as conflicts, refugee flows, and food insecurity is not profitable. It rarely helps news outlets attract mass audiences, enter lucrative new media markets, or secure advertising from luxury brands (Aly 2017). It is also very expensive to fund a network of on-theground reporters and the kinds of time-consuming research and travel necessary to explain the complex causes and contexts of these crises (Sambrook 2010). For these reasons, this kind of news is generally produced by journalistic outlets funded via non-commercial, alternative sources with a strong commitment to public service values, such as public education, deliberation, and democratic participation (Lowe and Stavitsky 2016). In this chapter, we regard public service commitments as a dynamic set of values held by journalists rather than as a fixed, pre-existing category of particular kinds of news content. The pursuit of such normative commitments within journalism has traditionally been enabled by state subsidies, as in the case of national public service broadcasters (PSBs). However, at a time when many states are cutting back on this type of financial support, news outlets with public service commitments have become increasingly reliant on funding from private foundations in order to subsidise their loss-making journalistic work. A recent report prepared by Foundation Center (2013) found that between 2009 and 2011, 1,012 foundations in the United States made 12,040 media-related grants totaling a staggering $1.86 billion – a third of which went to support news journalism.

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By providing greater independence from the influence(s) of commercial pressures, foundation funding can affect not just the amount, but also the kinds of international journalism being produced. Browne (2010, 890), for example, suggests that foundation funding, “could, logically, result in… reducing the likelihood of pressure from an owner or advertiser… giving reporters more time to work on a story… freeing them to pursue less-popular topics”. There is some, albeit limited, evidence to suggest that the alleviation of a profit-seeking motive may result in more diverse or alternative sourcing practices, thematic focus and news geography. For example, based on a comparative analysis of the forms of international news produced within 13 different countries, Chan and Lee (2013) found that commercial broadcasters are less likely to include characteristics of “analytical depth”, such as longer soundbites, and more likely to include features of “sensational” coverage, such as “soft” news topics, compared to public service broadcasters. Similarly, textual analyses of the coverage of non-profit international news agencies, such as Inter Press Service (IPS), have frequently shown that they have an alternative and much more diverse editorial agenda compared to mainstream, commercial news agencies, such as AP and Reuters. According to Joye (2009), IPS has been found to be more likely to report on countries in the Global South; refer to actors and sources from the Global South (particularly civil society organisations); report on stories relating to culture, development, the environment, and human rights; and emphasise nations’ cooperation, achievement, and common goals. IPS is a global news agency funded by a combination of grants from donors, revenues from news sales, and income from projects. Whilst none of this research isolates the effects of foundation funding on a humanitarian news beat, it does at least give some indication of how such news might change if commercial pressures are reduced. Finally, foundation funding is often associated not only with a degree of independence from the influence(s) of commercial pressures, but also with independence from the direct editorial influence of donors. Robertson (2015, 25), for example, describes global journalism funded by foundations as, “the relatively autonomous beneficiary of neo-Mediciism”, though without citing any empirical evidence to support this claim. The small amount of research that does exist in this area supports this assumption notwithstanding the existence of a number of anecdotal examples to the contrary (see Bristol and Donnelly 2011). Edmonds (2002, 1) found from his study of philanthropically-funded news organisations that, “It is extremely rare to find a nonprofit funder who received the final say on news content, set specific ideological criteria by which news stories were developed, or demanded the inclusion or exclusion of a specific point of view”. However, he goes on to argue that the lack of overt editorial influence should not blind us to the more subtle, one might say cultural, ties that bind these news organisations to their funders. There are, for example, any number of opportunities for grant makers to shape the editorial product as it is developed (Edmonds 2002, 2). It is commonly claimed, for example, that donor funding is likely to promote self-censorship in circumstances where there is a clear correspondence between the

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subject-matter being funded and the donors’ interests (Feldman 2007). It is also frequently speculated that donor funding may constrain the more general sphere of legitimate controversy adopted by philanthro-journalism, particularly by tying grant funding to “impact”. Bunce (2016), for example, suggests that, “journalists wishing to secure grants may be more likely to pitch stories about micro-level problems, on which progress and impact is easier to evidence, rather than addressing long-term thematic issues”. Finally, it has been suggested that journalists may be encouraged to reflect a world-view that aligns with their donor’s interests. Specifically, philanthrojournalism has been accused of adopting the ideology of “philanthro-capitalism”, characterised by the naturalisation of pro-market ideologies, which are supportive of the current economic and political status quo of global capitalism from which most foundations have derived their wealth (Wilkins and Enghel 2013). The only evidence we have regarding such influences is currently limited to theoretical critique or brief critical discussions of anecdotal examples (see Feldman 2007). As Browne (2010, 890) puts it, “there has not, as yet, been any comprehensive content analysis of the work produced by foundation-funded journalists and it would be unfair to jump to critical conclusions via anecdote”. Put simply, we know remarkably little about the extent to which, and ways in which, donor funding helps international public service journalism to “do good”.

“Looking good” by supporting humanitarian news Whilst humanitarian news coverage may not produce significant economic capital, it can generate considerable symbolic capital. Symbolic capital refers to the resources available to individuals and organisations based on prestige, competence, or respectability, which can be utilised as part of a system of exchange within a certain set of social structures (Bourdieu 1984). In the case of humanitarian news, this refers to the prestige and esteem often associated with longer-form coverage of issues or instances of extreme human suffering seldom covered by the mainstream media (Dencik 2013). Such prestige and esteem may be particularly valued by states seeking to extend their influence through particular forms of nation branding (Kaneva 2011). Al Jazeera, for example, is not a commercially viable news organisation, but it is funded by the government of Qatar because of the potential reputational benefits it offers as a result of its counter-hegemonic content (Figenschou 2013). The UK government’s recent decision to increase funding for the BBC World Service – one of the world’s largest producers of humanitarian news – was justified on a similar basis. The organisation was described as “a vital part of the UK’s ability to lead the world in terms of soft power and influence, with its reach and reputation helping to project UK’s cultural and democratic values to more than 246 million people worldwide” (DCMS 2016, 25). Symbolic capital may also be valued by some corporations and/or foundations seeking to promote positive public relations. Hopgood (2008, 106) makes the same point in relation to NGOs when he refers to the way in which they market the

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“moral brand and feel good associations” associated with their “product” in order to attract corporate funds. Whatever moral authority humanitarian NGOs had accrued was now a lucrative resource – a vital source of income … These humanitarian NGOs rent the essence of their particular brand value – trust, respect, ethical motivation … in return for income.… Value is now in the logo and its associations. Finally, symbolic capital may be valuable to foundations wishing to draw public attention away from allegations of unethical or illegal business practices. Koehn and Ueng (2010, 3) refer to “moral window-dressing” or “making donations to buy good will or a better reputation” as a common issue in the non-profit sector whereby “firms turn to philanthropy… either to buy good will in advance or to purchase redemption”. They show that US firms required to restate their earnings following allegations of financial wrongdoing are both amongst the most generous philanthropic donors and some of the most visible givers in the media – regularly appearing in magazines’ lists of ethical companies (Koehn and Ueng 2010). Whilst cautioning against too much cynicism, they conclude that some companies and businessmen appear to be trying to buy back their good reputations and related forms of public goodwill using philanthropic giving – and that this works, at least in the short-term. In summary, in each case it is conceivable that journalists will be incentivised by donors to produce content with high symbolic capital despite its relatively high cost. But whilst some form of donor influence is plausible, the precise mechanisms by which it affects journalistic practice and the ultimate consequences for journalistic content remain unclear. Since no prior empirical research has been conducted to investigate how such incentives might work and how they interact with other pressures and conditions that journalists have to deal with, little is known about how a donor’s motivation to “look good” might affect a news organisation’s ability or motivation to “do good”. This chapter contributes to filling this important research gap.

The case study In order to consider how the twin phenomena of “doing good” and “looking good” interact in the case of philanthro-journalism, we carried out an in-depth case study analysis of IRIN: an online news outlet which reports daily on humanitarian issues. IRIN’s content is disseminated digitally, through its website and social media channels, and tends to be used primarily by the humanitarian sector. Our study took place between November 2014 and November 2015. From 1 January 2015 onwards, immediately after their involvement with the UN ended, IRIN’s general operating costs became funded primarily by early installments of a $25 million pledge from the Jynwel Foundation.2 During this time, IRIN’s financial and legal affairs were administered by the London-based think tank – the Overseas Development Institute (ODI).

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The Jynwel Foundation was established in 2012 by Taek Jho Low, who is also its co-director and the Chief Executive of Jynwel Capital. Before IRIN accepted the pledge from the Jynwel Foundation, allegations that Low had had undue influence over a state-owned company tasked with supporting development projects (1Malaysia Development Berhad or 1MDB) were largely confined to the niche, investigative outlet The Sarawak Report (2014a, 2014b). But during 2015, the allegations escalated and became more credible, with reports appearing in The Sunday Times, The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal. Specifically, Low is alleged to have facilitated, and profited from, the embezzlement of billions of dollars from 1MDB. By the time of writing, Low had been named in the largest set of cases ever brought by the US Justice Department’s Kleptocracy Asset Recovery Initiative (Menon, Ananthalakshmi, and Raymond 2016). To date, he continues to deny any involvement in any illegal activity. Towards the end of 2015, IRIN’s financial and contractual arrangements with the Jynwel Foundation ended. Since then, IRIN has established itself as an independent non-profit association and continued operating without Jynwel’s support. IRIN’s funding now comes from a mix of sources including governments, foundations, and some charged services.

Methodology In order to generate credible inferences about the possible effects of the donor’s apparent motivation to “look good”, we examined both the content and production practices of IRIN and how they changed over time during a 12-month period. IRIN’s news outputs were investigated through a content analysis of all original, English-language outputs published between 1 November 2014 and 30 November 2015. In order to establish if and how IRIN’s content changed over time, all qualifying items were coded according to the date, author, word length, format, topic, sources used and whether they adopted a “human interest” frame.3 Outputs were also coded according to their “communicative frame”. Cottle and Rai (2006, 169) describe these as, “conventionalized repertoires that routinely organize how news events and issues are publicly communicated and contested”. They identify 12 such frames including “contests” between opposing views, and “campaigns” in which articles actively advocate for particular causes.4 Our investigation into the causal processes shaping IRIN’s content consisted of a combination of a newsroom ethnography, in-depth interviews, and a document analysis. A total of 25 semi-structured interviews, lasting between 60 and 90 minutes, were conducted with all contracted IRIN staff between 1 January 2015 and 30 November 2015. IRIN’s Chief Executive and Managing Editor were both interviewed twice. Despite repeated requests, we were unable to interview any representatives of the Jynwel Foundation. As a result, our interpretations of their motivations and values are, unfortunately, based solely on secondary sources. The Director of Humanitarian Programmes at ODI, who had multiple interactions with Jynwel, was also interviewed twice.

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Our ethnographic research involved observing approximately four daily editorial meetings and one weekly planning meeting each month between January 2015 and November 2015, amounting to a total of 47 meetings that lasted between 20 and 60 minutes each. Since most of IRIN’s staff lived and worked in different countries, these meetings were held online, via Skype. IRIN’s newsroom was also virtual, consisting of a private discussion space on Slack – a cloud-based team collaboration platform, which we also had access to. We also observed IRIN’s two-day annual strategy meeting in February 2015. What follows is a description of the three most significant shifts in IRIN’s journalism during the period investigated, followed by an account of the causal processes which appeared to produce them.

How IRIN’s journalism changed The quantity, length, and format of outputs In early 2015, there were rapid and significant changes in the quantity, length, and format of IRIN’s outputs. Figure 2.1 shows that despite substantial declines in their budgets and staffing levels, the number of outputs IRIN produced each month increased significantly in the first few months of 2015 – almost doubling from 38 outputs in December 2014, to 73 outputs in March 2015. This was a direct consequence of the Managing Editor requiring each journalist to produce “one product, every day” (23.6.15) in order to help “build an audience” (Middle East Editor 30.1.15). This target represented a dramatic shift from when IRIN was a UN-OCHA project, when the focus was on “quality… not volume” (former Editor in Chief 20.3.15).

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Alongside an increase in the quantity of outputs was a decrease in their average length. Prior to 2015, IRIN’s outputs were characterised by their Middle East Editor as, “tend[ing] to be 500 words longer than they deserved” (30.1.15), because, as IRIN’s News Editor explained, “there wasn’t a really big incentive to cut them” (20.2.15). In contrast, the editorial guidelines issued by IRIN’s senior managers in January 2015 advised journalists that “we want to see more short pieces (300–400 words) and average size pieces (800 words)”. So, as Figure 2.1 shows, the length of IRIN news items declined sharply in the first few months of 2015: from an average of 1329 words in December 2014, to 888 words in January 2015. From January 2015 onwards, all IRIN journalists and editors were also required to post on social media channels at least once a day, and a target was set for IRIN to increase average monthly users and social traffic by 100% in its first year. IRIN adopted a deliberate policy of recruiting new staff with, and training existing staff in, skills relevant to multimedia and digital design. Journalists were also repeatedly encouraged to produce content that was suitable for sharing and consumption via social media. The newly appointed Outreach Manager regularly made suggestions to editors and journalists regarding how to make their outputs more marketable. Finally, during the first three months of 2015, IRIN staff were repeatedly encouraged on Slack and in editorial meetings to “experiment” and be “more creative” (Slack 19.3.15) in the format and presentation of their outputs. As the Middle East Editor explained, “for the first time since I’ve been at IRIN, I’m being encouraged just to try stuff out” (30.1.15). As a result, the average proportion of outputs not in the form of a conventional news item increased from 16%in the last two months of 2014, to 28%of all outputs between January and November 2015. This included guest columns, editorials, briefings, and visual features – many of which were introduced for the first time.

The nature of IRIN’s public service commitments Secondly, there were important changes in the forms of public service journalism that IRIN aimed to provide, i.e. the ways in which it sought to “do good”. When IRIN was a UN-OCHA project, its principal form of public service consisted of providing longer-form, in-depth coverage. As the Managing Editor explained, “our selling point [was] that we were adding [value] to the quick news stories that tell you what’s happened and we try to explain why they’ve happened and the context in which they’ve happened” (22.1.15). In 2015, however, this was not emphasised as strongly. Instead, IRIN’s longstanding public purpose of reporting on humanitarian issues or crises neglected by mainstream media was not only retained, but given seemingly greater emphasis. This purpose was foregrounded in internal documents, public statements by Jynwel and IRIN’s management, as well as in interviews with almost all IRIN staff and even within some of IRIN’s outputs. In the draft of IRIN’s Statutes in March 2015, for example, IRIN’s charitable purpose was described as “to improve understanding of natural or man-made humanitarian emergencies, particularly those less reported or overlooked”.

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The most significant change in the nature of IRIN’s public service orientation, though, concerned their watchdog function. It has been reported (Lynch 2014) that when IRIN was a UN-OCHA project there were, as one interviewee put it, significant “limitations on IRIN’s editorial independence”. This resulted in what various interviewees described as a more general tendency to produce “softish leads on the story” and “not writ[e]… anything too provocative… [about] the UN”. By contrast, when IRIN left the UN it repeatedly asserted in public statements that it would “be better positioned to critically examine the multi-billion dollar humanitarian aid industry” (Press Release 20.11.2014). A new position devoted to specifically covering “aid policy” was created to produce “stories that push the industry forward by forcing it to confront critical issues” (Slack 30.7.15). Most IRIN journalists also perceived their coverage to be more critical, with one describing himself as, “less concerned about upsetting member states, because they’re not our member states any more”. However, there were limits to the extent to which IRIN adopted this particular role. Figure 2.2 shows that the percentage of IRIN outputs that qualified as adopting either an “expose/ investigation” or “campaigning” communicative frame increased only marginally in 2015, from an average of 4% of outputs in November and December 2014 to 6.5% between January 2015 and November 2015. This refers to news which either exposes information that would not otherwise be revealed within the public domain, or actively campaigns for a particular cause or issues (Cottle and Rai 2006, 180). Moreover, the form of critique that IRIN offered in 2015 was, at times, described as “constructive”, rather than severely critical. In

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its 2015 Vision Statement, for example, IRIN describes its coverage as leading to “constructive dialogue, not scandalous headlines”. Alongside changes in their role perceptions, the journalists at IRIN had a new and more diverse understanding of who their audience should be. In 2015, most staff described IRIN’s target audience as having expanded to include those “peripherally involved in the [humanitarian] sector” (Managing Editor 23.6.15) or “people that are interested in the subject” (Middle East Editor 30.1.15). However, the Jynwel Foundation frequently described IRIN’s audience as being the “general public” (cited in Hatcher 2014), and the draft IRIN Foundation statues in March 2015 referred to an ambition to “reach as many people as possible”. Further target audiences mentioned by different individuals included affected audiences, policymakers, other news organisations, donors, and celebrities. IRIN’s Editor-at-Large (20.3.15), for example, stated that he “‘want[ed] to be relevant to the people in the countries that we are reporting on’, whilst the Outreach Manager (29.5.15) said that, ‘for us it’s important to still reach that kind of “impact”… audience, so decision-makers and policy-makers’”.

The prioritisation of some public service values The third significant change in IRIN’s journalism concerned an apparent temporary decline, between December 2014 and February 2015, in the prioritisation of some public service values as defined by IRIN staff. Put simply, there was a brief change in the extent to which they “did good” in certain ways. Table 2.1 shows that, TABLE 2.1 Change over time in the percentage of IRIN outputs (excluding “top picks”) adopting different frames and citing different sources

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during this three month period, the percentage of IRIN outputs adopting a “human interest” frame and those citing local citizens was significantly lower than for any other month during the sample period. Providing a “platform for the voices of the powerless” (Slack 27.5.15) was understood to be a key public service value for every IRIN journalists. Similarly, Figure 2.2 shows that, in the same three month period, the proportion of IRIN outputs that were “reportage” declined significantly. Cottle and Rai (2006, 181) describe reportage as, “a communicative frame that… [provides] detailed background, context and analysis; in situ observation, first-hand testimony and/ or experiential accounts of events”. It is associated with public service, or “doing good”, because it, “attempt[s] to generate deeper understanding and insights into current news events” (Cottle and Rai 2006, 179). Figure 2.2 also reveals that, during these three months, more simplistic, “conflictual” communicative frames, including “dominant”, “contest”, and “contention” frames,5 reached their highest levels within the sample period – making up between 39% and 43% of all IRIN outputs.

What caused the changes to IRIN’s journalism? Our analysis generated no evidence to suggest that the Jynwel Foundation had any direct influence over IRIN’s editorial decision-making. Representatives of Jynwel had no direct contact with IRIN journalists, never suggested any specific investigations or stories, were never shown content prior to publication, and were very rarely mentioned on Slack or in editorial meetings. However, Jynwel seems to have had some limited and indirect influence over IRIN’s broader, strategic approaches. This involved what IRIN’s Managing Editor (23.6.15) described as the Jynwel Foundation’s “insist[ence] on visibility”, as well as their particular approach to generating revenue. However, this influence could only operate in combination with many other factors, including journalists’ own values and objectives, and was heavily modified by them. The interplay of these factors is reviewed through a discussion of 1) audience reach; 2) competing field logics; and 3) journalistic values.

Emphasis on maximizing audience reach The most significant factor behind many of the changes to IRIN’s work was a new focus on maximizing audience reach. This involved a considerable shift of resources towards activities intended to help IRIN reach its new target audiences more efficiently, including a greater emphasis on social media, as well as changes in the quantity, length, and format of IRIN’s outputs. The decline in average article length, for example, was said to be important for enhancing the “readability” (Editorat-Large, 20.3.15) and “relevance” (Senior Sub-editor, 15.6.15) of IRIN’s outputs. New formats were introduced to help reach key audiences; these were described as being “a very clear expression of [IRIN’s] brand” (Managing Editor, 23.6.15). This new focus on increasing audience reach also appears to have been partly responsible for the temporary decline in the prioritisation of some public service

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values in the spring of 2015. As the Managing Editor (23.6.15) explained, “in our attempt to be… more relevant on a day-to-day basis, I think we’ve swung a little too far in chasing after news stories of the day instead of doing our own original, unique stuff ”. However, other factors were also important. Significant organisational changes were taking place at IRIN between December 2014 and February 2015. In particular, uncertainty over commissioning budgets and disruption to their network of stringers (freelance journalists) meant that IRIN staff were producing a much higher proportion of outputs than usual. This is significant because, compared to stringers, staff were less likely to author longer news items, which included local citizens as sources and adopted human interest and “reportage” frames. This emphasis on audience reach was itself driven by multiple factors. In particular, there was a desire expressed by all IRIN staff to “source different revenue streams as soon as possible” (Head of Special Projects 22.5.15) by expanding their audience. This would help to establish their actual and perceived editorial independence. As the Managing Editor (22.1.15) put it, “it’s risky having most of your funding tied to one donor. It makes you very vulnerable – both financially and in terms of your editorial independence”. This strong adherence to the journalistic norm of independence and impartiality was reinforced by their previous experience as a UN-OCHA project, when IRIN staff perceived their editorial integrity to have been compromised. In addition, the Jynwel Foundation appears to have had self-interested reasons for wanting IRIN to expand its audience and visibility. At a time when Jho Low was facing increasing scrutiny for his alleged role in an unfolding corruption scandal in Malaysia, IRIN’s efforts to raise its profile had the potential to offer him some reputational benefits through the accrual of symbolic capital. Whilst Jho Low made no explicit public statements about this, some IRIN journalists speculated that Jynwel’s support for international public service journalism was motivated by “PR reasons as much as anything else” (Head of Special Projects 22.5.15). It is noteworthy too that reputational enhancement was an important element of other organisations’ involvement with IRIN. For example, IRIN’s Chief Executive (16.1.15) suggested that UN-OCHA had gained “soft power… [or] a brand-enhancing equity value” from supporting IRIN. Similarly, ODI’s Director of Humanitarian Programmes (10.4.15) said that the think tank had gained “gratitude from the sector, for keeping IRIN going”. But whilst an emphasis on audience reach may have been commensurate with Jynwel Foundation’s political and economic interests, there is little evidence to suggest that it was the principal factor shaping IRIN’s strategic decision-making in this area. Instead, the most likely source of donor influence appears to have stemmed from the logic of the field of philanthro-capitalism within which they appeared to operate. One of the conditions of Jynwel’s funding was that IRIN should aim to generate, at a minimum, a third of its budget from “earned revenues” within five years. Although such commercial expectations are common for foundationfunded non-profit news start-ups, most struggle to generate more than 25% of their revenue outside of donor grants (Pew 2013). As a result, achieving this degree of

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revenue diversification is likely to have represented a significant challenge for IRIN and required it to invest heavily in news products and activities that might help expand its audience. According to Benson (2016, 15), requirements regarding commercial sustainability derive from the dominance of the economic market field within most foundations, which entails, “a fundamental ideological commitment to a market-led solution”. The accounts Jho Low gave journalists of his decision to invest in IRIN suggest that such a logic was also dominant at the Jynwel Foundation. Jho Low repeatedly emphasised his intention to “ensure IRIN’s financial viability”, asserting that this would only be possible if IRIN combined “the intensity of a business with the integrity of an NGO” (cited in Bond 2014). In short, the Jynwel Foundation’s most significant influence is likely to have stemmed from their insistence on “earned revenues” rather than visibility. It is important to stress, though, that in this instance, the donor encouraged IRIN staff to pursue a strategy they had already agreed-upon, rather than pressurizing them into following a course of action which they were uncomfortable with. In fact, there is evidence to suggest that IRIN managements’ values were the key driver of IRIN’s efforts to expand its audience and revenue, rather than any influence(s) of the donor. Jho Low was quoted in the Financial Times as saying that IRIN “should kick-start with a strong enough capital base that they don’t need to worry about money [initially]” (Bond 2014). Despite this, the Managing Editor described herself as being “‘still hesitant’ to be so reliant on one donor” (23.6.15). This suggests that IRIN managers’ pursuit of a more diverse audience and funding base exceeded the Foundation’s expectations and requirements.

Satisfying multiple agendas and negotiating competing field logics While funded by the Jynwel Foundation, IRIN worked in, and engaged with, three fields, each with their own dominant logic and ways of doing things: journalism, humanitarianism, and philanthro-capitalism. Certain changes in IRIN’s work can be seen as the result of journalists’ efforts to negotiate the often competing logics of these three fields and the multiple agendas that stemmed from them.

Changes in the nature of IRIN’s public service commitment IRIN journalists’ prioritisation of their public service commitment to report on neglected issues and crises was emphasised in early 2015 because it served multiple agendas simultaneously. For IRIN journalists, drawing attention to neglected crises corresponded with the humanitarian principle of human equivalence. As IRIN’s Chief Executive (16.1.2015) explained, “the humanitarian value I think behind our practice… is that we believe suffering is equal wherever and that… [it is] equally deserving of attention and response”. In addition, telling unreported stories made IRIN more attractive to potential donors because it helped them to achieve impact.

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Finally, reporting on the “under-reported” may have also helped IRIN to “look good”, or to generate symbolic capital, because it demonstrated their novelty and specialist expertise. The need to satisfy multiple agendas – and negotiate competing field logics – also helps to explain the adoption of what we described earlier as “constructive watchdog” journalism at IRIN. The adoption of this role appears to have been, at least partly, a consequence of a compromise between two competing values. On the one hand, some IRIN journalists were driven by the tradition of adversarial reporting in the journalistic field, which places a strong emphasis on “speaking truth to power”. One wrote in a correspondence that they chose to work for IRIN because they were “really genuinely excited about the possibility to kick up shit by ripping into one of the most unaccountable, unchallenged parts of the global economy” (27.5.15). In contrast, other journalists suggested that the experience of operating with, “a kind of… self-censorship” as a UN-OCHA project, when reporting on sensitive issues, continued to shape their role perceptions in 2015. As one relatively new IRIN staff member put it, “I think that’s something that… other… [staff] are still coming out of ”. The adoption of the role of a constructive watchdog may also have been informed by a compromise between two contradictory pressures from the Jynwel Foundation. On the one hand, Jho Low’s values; Low repeatedly referred to his adherence to a somewhat vague philosophy of “disruptive philanthropy”, which appeared to support IRIN’s adoption of a more critical tone towards the aid industry. In an interview with The New York Times, he stated that whilst IRIN’s new pursuit of “hard questions and critical reporting… may be painful short term for certain states… long-term, we should be clear that it achieves the overarching agenda of saving human lives” (cited in Cumming-Bruce 2014). On the other hand, there was evidence to suggest that the Jynwel Foundation was reluctant for IRIN to be overly critical. Jynwel’s representative reportedly expressed anxiety at the idea of IRIN performing a watchdog function. It is unclear whether this apparent anxiety stemmed from concerns over the potential implications for Jynwel’s reputation if IRIN pursued adversarial reporting, or from an incompatibility between IRIN’s and Jynwel’s beliefs about journalism’s role in promoting transparency and accountability. Either way, it appears that the contradictions between Jynwel’s interests and apparent values ultimately resulted in a preference for IRIN to adopt a constructive, rather than an especially critical, watchdog role. It is important to note, though, that our data does not reveal the extent to which this preference actually affected IRIN’s strategic objectives (if at all).

Changes in target audiences The need to satisfy multiple agendas and negotiate competing field logics also helps to explain the shift in target audiences that occurred at IRIN. The Jynwel Foundation’s accrual of reputational benefits relied upon IRIN generating symbolic capital, either by “impacting” policymakers, influencing the mainstream media agenda, raising their profile amongst the general public, or getting noticed by certain celebrities. At the same time, though, IRIN was required to generate economic capital by

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building its existing humanitarian audience. As explained earlier, this requirement to generate revenue stemmed partly from the donor’s field logic. But again, these competing pressures were themselves mediated by the journalists, who operated in accordance with their own norms and values. The norms of neutrality and impartiality within IRIN encouraged the pursuit of diverse revenue streams (as noted earlier). However, these same norms also constrained the forms of revenue generation IRIN staff felt able to pursue. For example, IRIN’s Chief Executive (Slack 31.3.15) stated that none of the IRIN staff were “very comfortable with the idea [of] sponsored content”. As a result, IRIN was frequently described as being, “not quite there yet on the business model” (Outreach Manager 29.5.5). The Head of Special Projects (22.5.15) admitted that she was, “still not a hundred per cent clear what our core businesses [is] and for which audience”. Finally, the existence of multiple target audiences was a product of the competing visions of IRIN’s future held by both Jynwel and IRIN’s management. In his public statements about IRIN, Jho Low repeatedly describes the organisation, not in journalistic terms, but as “an NGO… work[ing] hand-in-hand with the major media in the common objective of dealing with humanitarian crises” (cited in Bond 2014). This divergence of opinion stemmed from a clear discrepancy between IRIN management’s adherence to journalistic field logics and what IRIN’s Chief Executive (16.1.15) described as the “culture [of] philanthro-capitalism [and] philanthroentrepreneurialism” at the Jynwel Foundation.

Journalistic values There is evidence to suggest that many of the key changes we observed in IRIN’s journalism were driven primarily by decisions made by the organisation’s editorial management. For example, the “readjustment” in the prioritisation of some public service values that occurred from March 2015 onwards was the result of a deliberate shift in editorial strategy by IRIN’s management. As the Managing Editor explained: whilst “chasing after news stories of the day” may have been “necessary” at the time, “now it’s time to kind of re-balance” (23.6.15). This editorial “re-balancing” suggests that IRIN’s management had sufficient autonomy to regulate the extent to which IRIN prioritised public service values – at least in terms of the framing and focus of outputs. As the Head of Special Projects put it, “I think we are still grappling with what stories fit within our remit and what don’t. But there is no doubt at all that we can do any stories that we want to…. The debate is internal and not with an external fund-master” (12.3.15). It is important to note, however, that the apparent autonomy of IRIN’s management may be explained by the possibility that the interests of the Jynwel Foundation appear to have been served by encouraging IRIN to generate the symbolic capital associated with highly-valued forms of public service journalism. Given that editorial independence is a key public service value, efforts to interfere with news production would ultimately have been incompatible with the interests of the Jynwel Foundations. Put simply, it was in the interests of the donor not to interfere or to be seen to be interfering.

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Conclusion In this chapter we sought to investigate if and how a private donor’s motivation to “look good” interacts with a news organisation’s ability to “do good”. To achieve this, we reported on the results of a detailed investigation of how and why the journalism at the humanitarian news organisation IRIN changed when it ended its association with UN-OCHA and became funded primarily by a donor who appeared to have been engaged in an act of “moral window-dressing” (Koehn and Ueng 2010). We identified a number of significant changes within IRIN’s content and professional norms during this time. These included; a decrease in the average length of articles, an increase in the quantity of articles and use of social media; the foregrounding of the role of constructive watchdog and rectifier of media inattention; an increase in the breadth and diversity of their target audience; and a temporary decrease in the prioritisation of some public service values. It is likely that the Jynwel Foundation’s apparent motivation to “look good” did play a role in some of these changes. It appears to have been one (albeit relatively minor) contributing factor to IRIN’s renewed focus on maximizing audience reach (which was itself responsible for many of the changes in the quantity and format of IRIN’s output). Perhaps the greatest influence of the donor’s pursuit of symbolic capital during this particular time was on further encouraging IRIN to expand its target audience beyond its traditional humanitarian audience. It appears that a donor’s apparent motivation to “look good” has the capacity to affect more than just the extent to which a news organisation “does good”. Moreover, it is possible that the Jynwel Foundation’s pursuit of symbolic capital had some effect on the kinds of public service values IRIN pursued – or how it sought to “do good”. However, it did not appear to significantly affect the extent to which IRIN was either willing or able to “do good”. Interestingly, it is also possible that the Jynwel Foundation’s desire to “look good” was one reason why it did not interfere directly, or want to be seen to be interfering, with IRIN’s editorial decision-making. In this respect, the Jynwel Foundation’s desire to “look good” may have helped IRIN to continue to “do good”. However, our results also suggest that the Jynwel Foundation’s desire to “look good” was not the donor’s only or even most significant influence. Jynwel’s professional values and engagement in the field of philanthro-capitalism appear to have been important to IRIN’s renewed focus on maximizing audience reach, but also the lack of clarity at the time over its audience and the temporary decline in particular forms of public service content. Most importantly, though, the results also reveal the limits of the influence of the donor – whether through encouraging the pursuit of symbolic capital or otherwise. The most striking feature of our analysis was the over-riding significance of historically formed, individual values and dispositions and journalistic field logics in mediating all forms of donor influence. Put simply, the influences of the donor always acted in concert (or conflict) with the dominant professional values within the news

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organisation. In particular, journalistic values were central to IRIN managers’ pursuit of a wider range of sources of funding and the “readjustment” in the prioritisation of some public service values that occurred from March 2015 onwards. Finally, our analysis makes clear that the influence of the Jynwel Foundation’s desire to “look good” interacted with these multiple other influences in complex ways – and that these interactions could be both complimentary and contradictory. For example, whilst the dominant journalistic field logics worked with both the donor’s field logic and pursuit of symbolic capital to produce a clear focus on maximizing audience reach, they also created internal contradictions that led to differences of opinion over IRIN’s target audience. This strongly suggests that it is not possible to make generalised claims about the influence that a donor’s desire to “look good” has on a news organisation. Since this is the first in-depth case study of the influence of “looking good” on international journalism, it is not possible to ascertain precisely how common these findings are. Further research is required to investigate how the incentive to produce content with high symbolic capital effects journalism within much larger news organisations, such as Al Jazeera and Voice of America, which are supported by governments rather than foundations. However, this study has enabled us to make a number of more general observations about how the motivation to “look good” and the ability to “do good” interact within international journalism, which can inform theory-building and future research in this area. In particular, we encourage such research to be mindful of the importance of contradictory dynamics, to be attuned to influence of the logics of different fields, and, where possible, to not base its conclusions solely on a critical reading of media texts.

Notes This work was supported by the Arts and Humanities Research Council (grant number AH/ N00731X/1), the Independent Social Research Foundation (ISRF) (Flexible Grants for Small Groups Award 2015) and Santander (Overseas Research and Mobility Grant). 1

2 3 4 5

A version of this chapter appeared as an article for the International Journal of Press Politics – see Scott, M., Bunce, M., and Wright, K. (2017). “Donor Power and the News: The Influence of Foundation Funding on International Public Service Journalism.” International Journal of Press/Politics 22 (2): 163–84. At this time, IRIN was also receiving financial support from the governments of Switzerland and Sweden, albeit at much lower levels. A news item that adopts a “human interest” frame usually personalises and dramatises an issue. In this case, it was indicated when at least half of all quotations within an article came from affected citizens. We would like to thank our research assistant Jessie Hagen for her dedicated and thorough contribution to the content analysis. News items adopting a “dominant” communicative frame are defined by a single external news source that either receives marginal or no challenge. Those adopting a “contest” communicative frame are presented in terms of binary opposition between opposing views. News items adopting a “contention” communicative frame reflect a plurality of voices/perspectives around a single area of contention (Cottle and Rai 2006, 181).

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References Aly, H. (2017). “Media perspectives: A means to an end? Creating a market for humanitarian news from Africa,” in Bunce, M., Franks, S. and Paterson, C. (eds.), Africa’s media image in the 21st century (pp. 143–7), Routledge, London. Benson, R. (2016). “Institutional forms of media ownership and their modes of power,” in Eide, M., Sjøvaag, H. and Larsen, L. (eds.), Journalism reexamined (pp. 29–47), Intellect, Bristol. Bond, S. (2014). “UN to spin off IRIN humanitarian news agency.” Financial Times, published and accessed on 20 November 2014. www.ft.com/cms/s/cd5c8362-6f77-11e48d86-00144feabdc0 Bourdieu, P. (1984). Distinction: A social critique of the judgment of taste, Harvard University Press, Cambridge. Bristol, N. and Donnelly, J. (2011). Taking the temperature: The future of global health journalism, Kaiser Family Foundation, Menlo Park, CA. Browne, H. (2010). “Foundation-funded journalism: Reasons to be wary of charitable support.” Journalism Studies 1(6): 889–903. Bunce, M. (2016). “Foundation funding of international news: The drive for solutions and impact.” Ethical Space, Online First 13(2/3): 6–15. Chan, J. and Lee, F. (2013). “Foreign news on public and commercial stations,” in Cohen, A. (ed.), Foreign news on television (pp. 129–53), Peter Lang, New York. Cottle, S. (2009). Global crisis reporting, Open University Press, New York. Cottle, S. and Rai, M. (2006). “Between display and deliberation: Analysing TV news as communicative architecture.” Media, Culture & Society 28(2): 163–89. Cumming-Bruce, N. (2014). “Ailing U.N. news service gets $25 million.” New York Times, published and accessed on 20 November 2014. www.nytimes.com/2014/12/01/business/ media/ailing-un-news-service-gets-25-million.html?_r=0 DCMS (2016). “A BBC for the future: A broadcaster of distinction.” Department for Culture, Media and Sport, published on May 2016. www.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/ uploads/attachment_data/file/524863/DCMS_A_BBC_for_the_future_linked_rev1.pdf Dencik, L. (2013). “What global citizens and whose global moral order? Defining the global at BBC World News.” Global Media and Communication 9(2): 119–34. Edmonds, R. (2002). “Getting behind the media: What are the subtle tradeoffs of foundation support for journalism?” Philanthropy, March/April. Feldman, B. (2007). “Report from the field: Left media and left think tanks: Foundation: Managed protest?” Critical Sociology 33: 427–46. Figenschou, T. (2013). Al-Jazeera and the global media landscape, Routledge, London. Foundation Center (2013). Growth of foundation support for media in the United States, accessed on 20 December 2015. http://foundationcenter.org/gainknowledge/research/pdf/ mediafunding_report_2013.pdf Hatcher, J. (2014). “IRIN Humanitarian News Service Saved after Private Donor Fills UN Void.” The Guardian, November 20. https://www.theguardian.com/global-development/2014/ nov/20/irin-humanitarian-news-service-saved-after-private-donor-fills-un-void Hopgood, S. (2008). “Saying ‘no’ to wal-mart? Money and morality in professional humanitarianism,” in Barnett, M. and Weiss, T. G. (eds.), Humanitarianism in question: Politics, power, ethics (pp. 98–123), Cornell University Press, Ithaca. Joye, S. (2009). “Raising an alternative voice: Assessing the role and value of the global alternative news agency: Inter Press Service.” Javnost: The Public 16(3): 5–20. Kaneva, N. (2011). “Nation branding: Toward an agenda for critical research.” International Journal of Communication 5: 117–41. Koehn, D. and Ueng, J. (2010). “Is philanthropy being used by corporate wrongdoers to buy good will?” Journal of Management & Governance 14(1).

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Lowe, G. and Stavitsky, A. (2016). “Ensuring public service news provision in the era of networked communications.” International Communication Gazette 78(4): 311–29. Lynch, C. (2014). “Gag order: Why is the UN censoring its own Syria news?” Foreign Policy, published on 14 January. http://foreignpolicy.com/2014/01/14/gag-order/ Menon, P., Ananthalakshmi, A. and Raymond, N. (2016). “U.S. files lawsuits to seize assets tied to Malaysian fund 1MDB.” Thomson Reuters, 20 July, accessed on 4 September 2017. http://uk.reuters.com/article/malaysia-scandal-usa/u-s-files-lawsuits-to-seize-assetstied-to-malaysian-fund-1mdb-idINKCN10025W OECD (2014). Fragile states 2014: Domestic revenue mobilisation in fragile states, OECD, Paris. Pew (2013). Nonprofit journalism: A growing but fragile part of the U.S. news system, Pew Research Centre, Washington, DC. Robertson, A. (2015). Global news: Reporting conflicts and cosmopolitanism, Peter Lang Publishing, New York. Sambrook, R. (2010). Are foreign correspondents redundant?, Reuters, Oxford. The Sarawak Report (2014a). “IMDB backed jho low’s £1 billion London hotel bid! exclusive expose.” Sarawak Report, 2 May, accessed on 4 September 2017. www.sarawakreport. org/2014/05/1mdb-backed-jho-low-with-uk1billion-exclusive-expose/ ——— (2014b). “More links: Jho low’s spending and Malaysia’s development money exclusive,” 20 September, accessed on 4 September 2017. www.sarawakreport.org/2014/09/morelinks-jho-lows-spending-and-malaysias-development-money-exclusive/ Ungoed-Thomas, J., Rewcastle, C. and Boswell, J. (2015). “Harrow playboy linked to troubled Malaysian fund.” The Sunday Times, published and accessed on 1 January 2015. www. thetimes.co.uk/article/harrow-playboy-linked-to-troubled-malaysian-fund-7fq32lf5vdr Wilkins, K. and Enghel, F. (2013). “The privatization of development through global communication industries: Living proof ?” Media Culture Society 35(2): 165–81.

3 SHIFTING DEVELOPMENT DISCOURSES IN PUBLIC AND IN PRIVATE The case of the Scotland–Malawi partnership Ben Wilson

Introduction This chapter focuses on the tensions that arise between the imperatives to use communication to both do good and to look good through the case of the Scotland–Malawi Partnership (SMP). The SMP is the largest international development network organisation in Scotland, and almost every major charity working in the sector is a member (SMP 2017, “Search for Members”). It attempts to use communication to do good by making efforts to change the way that actors do development, specifically through promotion of a “partnership model”. The promotion of this model is an attempt to dispel the hierarchy of donors over recipients, which underpins the structure of classical development practice. They believe a partnership approach will do good as it embeds the perceptions of recipients in project implementation (Ross 2015) and is an alternative to “the existing paradigm of top-down western-run aid”, which they credit with the failure to deliver truly transformational global change (SMP 2015b, 3). This is reflected in the 2030 Agenda, specifically the Sustainable Development Goal 17, which calls for “Partnerships for the Goals” (UNDP 2016). The SMP’s efforts have a subsequent effect on what looks good in the contemporary international development community in Scotland. As they are promoting partnership as a more effective way of doing development they are encouraging new criteria for the evaluation of the effectiveness of development interventions. In short, the criteria for what looks good are changing in Scotland, thanks to the efforts of the SMP to transform the development discourse. Research produced by the SMP shows that what they are doing looks good, as the organisation is highly popular both politically and amongst people in Scotland (SMP 2014; SMP 2015a). They appear also to be doing good, in terms of achieving their goals, widening their scope and deepening the bilateral relations between Scotland and Malawi; which they do through the spirit of partnership promoted

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in the SDGs (UNDP 2016). However, this chapter is not directly concerned with assessing the extent to which the SMP does good (though doubtless, I provide some data which can be analysed for this purpose). Rather, it is concerned with assessing what the tension between doing good and looking good reveals through the case of the SMP. Specifically, I present analysis which shows that whilst attitudes on what constitutes good development are gradually changing amongst development practitioners in Scotland, practitioners’ perceptions of what looks good to mass audiences has not changed. This leads practitioners to proliferate traditional perceptions of development in public spaces. Furthermore, I provide evidence demonstrating that hierarchical relations of development are embedded in the development structures, and that discursive changes, such as the promotion of a partnership approach, often amount to little more than a new way for practitioners to “perform” development. The SMP case therefore demonstrates that doing good and looking good are malleable concepts, shaped by the context surrounding practitioners’ expression of them, and that interpreting practitioners as performers yields deeper insights into communication for development.

Context As part of the United Kingdom, Scotland is a member of an OECD nation, and through this contributes to the UK’s Department of International Development (DFID) budget, alongside multilateral aid commitments. Malawi, formerly Nyasaland, is a southeastern African nation, and a recipient of development aid from a number of OECD nations. Since 2005, Scotland and Malawi have been linked in a “special relationship”, formally beginning with the signing of a “cooperation agreement” that year by Scotland’s First Minister Jack McConnell and the President of Malawi, Bingu wa Mutharika (Ross 2015, 6). This agreement stipulates that the two countries “will develop and increase collaboration” across the themes of civic governance and society, sustainable economic development, health, and education (SG 2005, 1). Prior to signing the cooperation agreement, the Scottish Government (SG) had successfully negotiated with the UK Government to retain a modest budget for international development, an area of policy explicitly reserved for Westminster. Since 2005, £3 million of this now £9 million budget has been ring-fenced for projects in Malawi (SG 2016b). Despite this being a relatively small1 amount of government funding, the relationship between these countries has thrived in the past 12 years. One study (Anders 2014) calculates that 94,000 Scots and 198,000 Malawians are actively involved in activities between the two countries, which are said to benefit 300,000 Scots and 2 million Malawians. More significantly, Scottish civil society, in the form of “money, time and in-kind donations”, generates almost ten times as much as the government’s contribution to Malawi, providing an estimated £40 million per year (Anders 2014, 5). Moreover, the research undertaken by the SMP found that 46% of people in Scotland know someone with a connection to Malawi, and 74% were “in favour” of the bilateral links (SMP 2014, 2).

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In the preface to the Cooperation Agreement, the “long history of collaboration” between Scotland and Malawi is highlighted, as is an emphasis on a partnership model (SG 2005, 1). The historical relationship between the two countries centres on the explorer David Livingstone, who first travelled to the territory now known as Malawi during his Zambezi Expedition, 1858–1864 (Bayly 2017). Livingstone, born in Blantyre, Scotland, in 1813, is said to have played a role in the destruction of the slave trade in the region, which he sought to replace with “legitimate commerce”, in his pursuit of bring the so-called “three Cs” to Africa: Christianity, Civilisation, and Commerce (Ross 2015, 5). Livingstone was followed by Scottish Missionaries, with the Presbyterian Free Church of Scotland and Church of Scotland establishing powerful missions in Livingstonia and Blantyre in the north and south of Malawi respectively (Mkandawire 1998). These Missions cemented the relationship between Scotland and Malawi, and many ex-missionaries formed the first board of the SMP when established in 2004 (Ross 2015). The SMP themselves regularly reference David Livingstone in explaining the relationship (SMP 2017, “About Us”) as does the SG when promoting their IDF’s focus on Malawi (SG 2016a, “Malawi Development Programme”). Importantly, the character of Livingstone is said to embody the other notable highlight of the preface to the cooperation agreement: that the relationship between Scotland and Malawi would be one of “partnership”. One SMP staff member interviewed during my research remarked that Livingstone “strived for equality” and travelled with a “spirit of mutual respect” (Christopher, SMP Staff Member, Interview January 2015). Jack McConnell, former First Minister of Scotland, suggested that Livingstone had a belief that “the Africans he met in Malawi and elsewhere should be independent and self-sufficient” (Jack McConnell, Email Correspondence, February 2015). Contemporary policy documents from the SG refer to Livingstone as an “early champion of human rights” (SG 2016b, 14–15). These interpretations of Livingstone and his legacy are highly contested, however, with other authors highlighting his complicity in the establishment of the colonial authorities in the region and his social Darwinist attitude towards his African co-travelers (Mkandawire 1998; Lwanda 2007; McCracken 2012). Nevertheless, it is through the positive interpretation of Livingstone and his legacy that the SG and the SMP promote the contemporary relationship between Scotland and Malawi. Importantly, they use this interpretation to promote their particular model of development, which emphasises partnership. Much of the success of the civil society engagement in the Malawi program has been credited to the SMP (Anders 2014). The SMP was formally established as a civil society organisation in 2004 to support relations between the two countries. The SMP has, since 2004, grown into a large organisation representing over 1000 charity members, represented in every Scottish Electoral Constituency (SMP 2016a), and claims to be the “largest community-based international development network in the UK” (SMP 2017, “Our Network”). The SMP supports its members through regular thematic “forums” which bring together charities working in areas such as health, further education, school partnerships and business, trade and tourism (SMP

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2017, “Forums”). Whilst politically neutral and independent of Government, the SMP receives core funding from the SG International Development Fund (IDF), provided on a triennial basis (SMP 2015a). The SMP supports its members by providing assistance for funding applications to the IDF and engages in lobbying and advocacy work, which has recently included lobbying the UK Borders Agency on the issue of Malawian visas to the UK, promotion of the SMP model across the UK, and continuous engagement with the media to raise awareness of the relationship between Scotland and Malawi (SMP 2017, “Lobbying and Advocacy”). The SMP see their role as promoting the “people-to-people” connection between the two countries (SMP 2017, “About Us”). This style is said to “pioneer a new approach” (Ross and West 2008, 2) to international development, which is characterised by an emphasis on civil society (Ross 2015). Underpinning the model is a stated commitment to “mutual understanding, mutual respect and mutual benefit” between Scotland and Malawi: “a genuinely dignified two-way partnership, not a charity” whereby “both nations contribute and both nations benefit” (SMP 2015a, 10). The SG deploys a similar narrative when promoting their work, reporting that it is civil society links “which put reciprocity at the heart of our work” (SG 2016b, 15). The emphasis on a partnership approach is characterised by the establishment of an equivalent organisation based in Lilongwe, the Malawi Scotland Partnership (MaSP). MaSP first received funding from the SG in 2012, and again in 2015, and this grant funding is managed by the SMP (SG 2016b, 12). However, MaSP is formally an independent “sister organisation” of the SMP, “Malawi led and Malawi owned” (MaSP 2015, 9), which “aims to establish an effective Malawi led and Malawi owned national umbrella organisation which is able to bring together, support and add value to the many civil society links between Scotland and Malawi” (SG 2012, 1). Whilst MaSP funding is ultimately the responsibility of the SMP, it is important to note that the SMP does not regularly manage any other direct SG funding for projects in Malawi (SMP 2016b). In short, the SMP support their Scottish members who have partnerships with Malawian organisations, and MaSP support their Malawian members who have partnerships with Scottish organisations.

Methodology In this chapter I present analysis of research undertaken in 2015 between Scotland and Malawi in order to demonstrate how actors draw upon shifting development discourses in public and private spaces. The study comprised interviews, focus groups, and textual analysis, which were thematically analysed. Interviews were undertaken with stakeholders in the SMP and MaSP, including representatives of each organisation’s board, staff, and representatives of their membership. Focus groups were undertaken with Scottish and Malawian young people engaged in Scotland–Malawi bilateral partnerships, representatives of organisations involved in the SMP and MaSP, and with Malawians living in Scotland. The youth focus groups were longitudinal: I engaged groups of young people travelling to Malawi in summer 2015 before their

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trip, whilst in Malawi and upon their return in order to document and interpret these young people’s developing perceptions of development, partnership, and the Global South. These groups included student volunteers from the organisation Glasgow Volunteers International (GVI), high school students from St Peter’s Secondary School, and young people volunteering through the educational charity, Malawi Tomorrow (MaTo). This data was supplemented by the textual analysis of blogs, particularly pertinent in relation to one youth organisation who blogged their experience. The triangulation of focus group responses with blogs showed how different platforms require different modes of expression in relation to development.2 Efforts were made throughout the research process to ensure balance between Scottish and Malawian respondents. Rather than exploring Malawi as the object of study, the relationship itself was placed at the centre of the research. Moreover, in the spirit of exploring the concept of “partnership”, I deployed an interpretivist epistemological position in line with the study of partnership through the work on participatory approaches to development, pioneered by theorists such as Robert Chambers (Chambers 1983, 1997). The participatory approach to development rejects models which portray agents of aid as active and recipients as passive, and it has influenced the partnership discourse (Schech et al. 2015).

What is good development? In recent years the criteria for what is good development has changed within the international development community in Scotland. The SMP have played a central role in this transformation, through their promotion of a partnership model. Schech et al. (2015) trace the origins of the partnership concept in development to alternative development theorists and practitioners in the 1980s, who used the term to “capture the ideal of shared development goals, solidarity and trust in NorthSouth non-governmental organisations relationships” (2015, 359). The term was then adopted by the OECD (1996), was then the 8th Millennium Development Goal (2015), and most recently was incorporated into the 17th SDG, “Partnerships for the Goals” (UNDP 2016, 1). Schech et al. (2015) suggest that the term has been adopted in policy to “restore the tarnished image of development assistance”, and that there is now a tendency to refer to all development interactions as types of partnerships, whether or not that relationship bears any difference to traditional models of development assistance (2015, 359–60). This section presents how the promotion of a partnership model by the SMP has had some impact on popular perceptions of what is good development amongst international development organisations in Scotland. However, I subsequently present findings which demonstrate, partially in agreement with Schech et al. (2015), that organisations pursuing partnership can be seen to do so in superficial way; claiming allegiance to the principles which underpin the partnership model of development whilst in practice resembling a traditional charity approach. Through this analysis, I demonstrate that actors in development navigate multiple discourses when presenting their work in public compared to private spaces.

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SMP criteria of “good development” Between 2010 and 2014, the SMP and MaSP engaged in a lengthy consultation with each of their respective members to produce their “Partnership Principles” (Box 3.1) (SMP 2017, “Partnership Principles”). These principles, which are used as a tool by the organisations to promote their model amongst their respective memberships, can be seen as emblematic of the approach taken by the SMP.

BOX 3.1 PARTNERSHIP PRINCIPLES Planning and implementing together Appropriateness Respect, trust and mutual understanding Transparency and accountability No one left behind Effectiveness Reciprocity Sustainability do no Harm Interconnectivity Parity (equality) SMP 2017

The Partnership Principles are promoted by the SMP through all of their official documentation, at events and at members’ forums. They are central to how the SMP promotes their model. Moreover, the SMP have recently lobbied the SG to consider formal adoption of the partnership principles, which they argued should underpin all international development activity engaged in by the Government (SMP 2016a). Whilst the SG have not officially adopted this set of principles specifically, their new strategy for international development repeatedly refers to their approach as one characterised by “partnership” (SG 2016c, 5). In an interview, one staff member of the SMP who had been heavily involved in the development of these principles suggested that they were a “common thread” through its membership, which comprises a broad range of individuals and organisations (Christopher, SMP Staff Member, Interview, January 2015). This staff member suggested that these principles would in future be used to evaluate the success of its members, through a system of review whereby members would rate their implementation of each principle. For him, members’ success at having a relationship of true “partnership” ought to be more important than the extent of their impact on Malawi. The current chairperson of the SMP, Ken Ross, has similarly celebrated the organisation’s emphasis on partnership. Ross suggests that hitherto “attempts to achieve international development have proved unsuccessful as far as

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the ‘bottom billion’ are concerned”, and that the “received paradigm of international development is subject to question” (Ross 2015, 1). He suggests that the SMP model is a “new approach” and that its emphasis on a “reciprocal partnership for development” is important to the “future direction of international development” (Ross 2015, 29). Through the promotion of a partnership model by the SMP, this approach has become very important to development practitioners in Scotland. For example, one SMP member remarked that the principles were fundamental to how his organisation implements needs assessments, and that they are very useful in directing an approach which incorporates the perspectives of recipients (Tom, SMP Member, Healthcare NGO, Interview, May 2015). Another member, who managed a student volunteering NGO, commented that his organisation was “essentially founded” on the partnership principles, and said that they were integral to his organisation adopting a reciprocal approach (Michael, SMP Member, Student Volunteering NGO, Interview, May 2015). School partnerships are an important part of the work of the SMP, representing more than 200 of its more than 1000 members (SMP 2016c). Many of these partnerships send Scottish young people to Malawi. In recent years, schools have also begun to fundraise to bring their Malawian counterparts to visit their schools in Scotland. One teacher who has managed his school’s connection to Malawi related this directly to the partnership principles, and suggested that a two-way exchange was essential for “true partnership” (Gordon, Scottish Teacher, Interview, April 2015). Moreover, he related the partnership principles to the activities that the young people would engage in during their exchange visits. Specifically, he critiqued “simplistic” models of school partnerships which saw students “paint classrooms” in developing countries (Gordon, SMP Member, Teacher, Interview, April 2015). Instead, Gordon highlighted that both the Malawian and Scottish young people would engage in cultural exchange and focus on building cross-cultural understanding. The partnership principles have therefore been shown to have had an important impact on the international development landscape in Scotland. Members report that they have incorporated the principles into their practice, and that it has influenced them to better assess the needs of recipients and produce a “twoway” approach to development. They have influenced schools to fund two-way exchanges between Scotland and Malawi, and have encouraged a focus on cultural exchange rather than short-term transfer of material resources from one side to the other (e.g. painting classrooms during visits).

Performing partnership Whilst the SMP’s partnership principles can be seen to have had an impact on what is perceived as good development by development practitioners in Scotland, other examples of Scottish NGOs working in Malawi illustrate that organisation’s allegiance to partnership occasionally can only be relatively superficial. The organisation

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Zikomo Malawi is based in Scotland, and works to improve education in Malawi. They do so through volunteers and various fundraising events, and are regularly invited to promote their work at SMP events (Field Notes, September 2015). However, interviews with members of the SMP regularly cited this organisation as being inconsistent with the SMP’s partnership approach. When I interviewed members of the SMP who did not comply with their model, one former SMP board member was quick to identify Zikomo Malawi, highlighting their “extremely charitably minded” approach to development (Lee, former SMP Board Member and NGO Worker, Interview, April 2015). Through this, he suggests that having a “charity minded” approach is opposed to the spirit of the SMP, which is embedded in the SMP’s recent use of the tagline “partnership, not charity” (Field Notes, October 2015). Two other members shared this perception of Zikomo Malawi, though one attempted to defend them on the grounds that it “means well” (Caitlin, SMP Member, Charity Director, 2015). The other was less forgiving, remarking that she wanted to “slap” charities like Zikomo Malawi, who “just come in and out of Malawian lives” (Sharon, MaTo Project Manager, August 2015). Sharon critiqued the organisation for being “white-down” and “paternalistic”, and for not working within the priorities of the Malawian Government. This example demonstrates an inconsistency within the SMP, as they publicly celebrate the work of Zikomo Malawi despite this relatively clear consensus amongst its membership that it is not using the SMP’s “partnership approach”. Moreover, this example shows that the partnership principles are open to interpretation by SMP members. Elsewhere in interview with Lee, citied above, he remarked that despite not operating from a partnership approach, Zikomo Malawi maintained “mutuality” in their work. By this he refers to how the organisation consults their Malawian partners when preparing to implement its projects. However, this appears to suggest that Lee regards “mutuality” as a separate element from a wholly partnership approach. Moreover, Zikomo Malawi themselves claim to be influenced by the Partnership Principles, despite evidence to the contrary (Field Notes, October 2015). In such a way, the Partnership Principles are shown to be not inherently connected to a partnership approach, as they can be selectively drawn from by organisations, such as Zikomo Malawi, who work from a charity perspective. In short: adherence to these principles can be relatively skin deep, and practice which reaffirms traditional donor–recipient charity models continues within organisations who claim allegiance to partnership. Moreover, school partnerships between Scotland and Malawi may not be as equitable as first analysis suggested. In the case of St Peter’s Secondary School, their link with Sapitwa Day Secondary School in Malawi was regarded as emblematic of the SMP approach. Their link was highlighted to me by two members of the SMP in such a way, and the school was the focus of a case study video produced by the SMP on best practice in school linkages. The school link was premised on cultural exchange, and saw Scottish and Malawian young people visit each other each year. Upon analysis, however, it was clear that this organisation was making significant charitable donations to their host school during each visit. This came in the form

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of funding for school fees and for senior pupils to attend extra-curricular activities. During their visit to Malawi, St Peter’s also made other personal donations to pupils, and to a nearby orphan care centre (Field Notes, Malawi, June 2015). The fact that the school made such donations is unremarkable; indeed, it is relatively predictable. What is remarkable, however, is that the school presented its “partnership” with Sapitwa as premised on cultural and educational exchange, and precisely not about charity. When I interviewed Mr Scott I raised this apparent contradiction. He agreed that the school’s donations were incompatible with their approach, but remarked that this was part of the project that they “had to do” to meet the expectations of supporters in Scotland (Mr Scott, St Peter’s Teacher, Interview, June 2015). They had subsequently been celebrated by the SMP, and some of its members, as a successful partnership because of their success at implementing a school exchange that was not premised on charitable donations (Gordon, SMP Member, Teacher, Interview, April 2015). The case of MaTo bears a striking resemblance to that of St Peter’s. MaTo also positioned itself as an organisation which was building “partnership, not charity”, and emphasised that their young people were engaging in “cultural exchange” rather than “traditional activities” such as “painting schools” (Mr Graham, MaTo Youth Coordinator, Interview July 2015). However, whilst in Malawi I engaged with a group of MaTo young people who had precisely been painting classrooms as their main, day-to-day activity in Malawi (MaTo Bank Street Secondary, Focus Group, June 2015). The other group of MaTo young people I engaged with, after their return to Scotland, equally had engaged in making material donations to their school partners in Malawi against how the organisation positioned itself (MaTo Youth Focus Group, October 2015). The young people in this group were highly critical of the organisation for this element of the project, as they felt that when they gave these donations it changed the relations of “true friendship” they had built up with their Malawian counterparts (MaTo Youth Focus Group, October 2015). Organisations can therefore emphasise their “partnership” credentials whilst in practice pursuing a more charitable approach to development. However, two questions remain: why do organisations feel compelled to present their work as premised on partnership, and why do they fail to implement it.

Why organisations claim to pursue a partnership approach In many ways, member organisations of the SMP can be seen to pursue a partnership model of development. However, the reasons that organisations pursue this approach are complex. Aside from attempting to curry favour within the SMP, organisations can also be seen to pursue a partnership model as a response to a popular discourse which critiques the classical development discourse which portrays donors and beneficiaries in a binary way. This relates to what Schech et al. argue was the platform from which the partnership discourses emerged: “when enthusiasm for development assistance is flagging and established aid hierarchies are called into question” (2015, 360).

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This was particularly evident in the case of one student group I engaged in longitudinal focus groups. GVI were hosted by a small Malawian NGO. The group of ten was split into five groups of two, and each pair was sent to support a variety of different local institutions, such as schools, orphan care centres and small Community Based Organisations (CBOs). The volunteers had their weekends free to travel, and at the end of their “project” many took time to travel around the region. Throughout the research, GVI volunteers demonstrated that they were highly concerned with the way that their activities were interpreted by others, and were steadfast in asserting that they wished to pursue a “sustainable partnership” model. Volunteers expressed this through rejection of the concept of “voluntourism”. Generally, this term refers to a combination of volunteering and tourism, most often associated with short-term engagement in charitable activities in developing countries, alongside touristic travel around the country or region (Clemmons 2012). Critiques of such practices also target the popular “gap year” programs offered to young people, which similarly promote tourism in combination with charitable activities in developing countries (Simpson 2004). Some regard such practices as harmful to recipient organisations and communities (Simpson 2007), as inherently paternalistic (McLennan 2014), and its associated images are condemned as crass and distasteful (Dasgupta 2014).3 GVI volunteers were highly critical of what they saw as “voluntourism” charities, and mocked the type of student whom they believed would wish to take part in such a project: “Some people are like, ‘look at me, I’m in Africa helping orphans’”. “Yeah people go out for a new picture for Facebook”. “Some people are going purely for self-gain”. Outgoing Volunteers Group Discussion, GVI Training Weekend, March 2015 During the pre-departure focus group, another volunteer remarked that she felt GVI was “more useful” than voluntourism projects, because the work that they were doing was “in partnership” with local organisations (Sally, GVI “Before” Focus Group, April 2015). Moreover, throughout each of the focus groups, volunteers displayed a general feeling of anxiety towards how their activities would be externally interpreted. In short, they were worried that people would think that they were “voluntourists”. They were keen to emphasise in the post-project focus group that they had been engaging in “sustainable development” precisely because they were working “in partnership” with local organisations (Sian, GVI “After” Focus Group, October 2015). The GVI volunteers therefore presented their work as based on a model of partnership, and they found this to be emblematic of good development, which they referred to through the concept of “sustainable development”. Interestingly, they celebrated their “partnership model” in response to the potential accusations they might receive of being “voluntourists”. The volunteers interpreted voluntourists as self-serving

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and paternalistic, and therefore they presented their activities as opposed to this. This example reflects the analysis of Schech et al. highlighted at the beginning of this section: the discourse of partnership derives from the response to critiques of development practice which regard it as paternalistic, exploitative, and hierarchical (Schech et al. 2015).

Public and private Analysis of other organisations working between Scotland and Malawi, however, indicates a more complex relationship with the partnership model, which can be understood through a “public/private” nexus. As explored above, St Peter’s and MaTo can be seen to present their work as premised on partnership whilst in reality engaging in activities more associated with a classical charity model. Interestingly, however, the analysis of the MaTo group shows that members did not always present their model as premised on partnership. In the focus group, and in interviews with each of the key members of staff of this charity, this was the dominant way that they talked about their activities in Malawi. However, when the group of young people and their leaders wrote blogs about their experience in Malawi they drew directly from a charity paradigm. For example: Pre-MaTo I never imagined starting my own charity, but now that I have been through the MaTo programme, I believe that’s why I’m here. To make an impact on my life and many others by providing the resources and skills they need to live a normal life. The emotion on the children’s face as you gave them their share of the porridge was absolutely heartwarming, they looked so happy for the little they had been given. This for me is absolutely heart breaking, seeing them so happy with so little is amazing. They truly are the happiest people on this planet and amazing to be around. So amazing, that many little faces can brighten up your day. MaTo Youth Blog, October 2015 This extract clearly draws from a different paradigm than that which the young people expressed in the focus group. The young people in the focus group referred instead to how Malawi was not like the depictions they had seen in charity fundraising adverts, and emphasised the similarities they had with their Malawian counterparts rather than any differences (MaTo “After” Focus Group, October 2015). Contrastingly, in the blog entry cited above, the writer highlights the “impact” they expect they will have on Malawians, emphasises the “poverty of the children” they saw and is steeped in paternalistic sentiment. Similarly, the young people travelling with St Peter’s Secondary School exhibited a charity perspective in their fundraising, whilst displaying adherence to the principles of partnership in their focus groups. Importantly, one such example of this came during their fundraising for their project. At a local football stadium, the

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young people had collection buckets, and called out to the public “give money for Malawian orphanages” (Mr Scott, St Peter’s Secondary School, Interview, June 2015). The young people were aware that their project was premised on educational exchange and not on charitable donations, and they expressed awareness of this in their pre-departure focus groups (St Peters “Before” Focus Group, May 2015). However, in the fundraising space they readily transformed this narrative in pursuit of a more successful fundraising yield. These findings present an important challenge to the promotion of a partnership model of development. Organisations like GVI and MaTo, and schools like St Peters, through their membership of the SMP have an understanding of what form of practice they ought to pursue: “partnership”, because that is good development. However, in the case of MaTo and St Peter’s I have demonstrated that both organisations continue to engage in what can be regarded as “non-partnership” activities in Malawi. Moreover, this section has shown that each of these organisations publicly presents their activities as premised on works of charity in some scenarios, whilst in others as embodiments of a “partnership approach”. They do this based on their interpretation of what looks good to different audiences. What type of activity looks good in fundraising scenarios and on public blogs is interpreted by actors to be different from what looks good at meetings of the SMP. This results in organisations promoting the traditional development discourse, underpinned by a donor–recipient hierarchy, in public spaces.

The resilience of the donor–recipient hierarchy The previous section demonstrated that organisations often present their work in a way that reaffirms charity approaches to development. This section will show that organisations’ practice also reaffirms such development approaches. This is due to how the traditional charity approach to development and its associated hierarchy of donors over recipients is embedded in development relations. This has implications for any organisation attempting to promote the SDG of “Partnerships for the Goals”, as efforts to institute genuine partnerships are curtailed by these forces within development relations. Some authors have argued that the partnership agenda was, from its very inception, co-opted by conventional development from alternative development theory (Hickey and Kothari 2009, 88). The partnership agenda can be seen through this technocratic lens as a way for northern donors to maintain authority over programs, as they provide the funding, but share the risks and responsibilities with their southern “partners” (Impey and Overton 2014). Moreover, the term “partnership” is interpreted differently by southern “partners”, who have been shown to view such relationships “purely in terms of transfer of resources” (Lewis 1998, 504). In short, many north–south relationships use the rhetoric of partnership in name only. The partnership approach can therefore be seen as a superficial change in the lexicon surrounding development interactions: it is a change in how development interactions are presented, not necessarily a change in how they are practiced. This

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section draws upon the examples of capacity building and the racial identity of development workers to demonstrate how hierarchical relations are embedded and persistent, despite the promotion of partnership approach.

Capacity building The promotion of the partnership discourse also has the potential to mask paternalistic underpinnings of some forms of practice. In essence, traditional hierarchical development relations still shape practices, despite superficial changes in how these practices are presented. In reference to capacity building, my research found a series of examples which attest to this assessment. The volunteer group GVI split their project activities into two: what they referred to as “funded” and “non-funded” projects. Using their soft-skills for non-funded projects included activities which are often referred to as “capacity building”. This involves the teaching of “soft skills” by volunteers to recipients of aid, and is sometimes regarded as one way that volunteers feel they can have an impact in the long-term (after they leave the “project”) (Schech et al. 2015). For example, in the case of GVI, volunteers worked with local orphan care centres to help them apply for external funding from local Malawian businesses. A focus on capacity building is, according to Devereux, one of the fundamental ways that international volunteers are a positive resource in international development (Devereux 2008). My analysis shows, however, that the emphasis on “capacity building” in conventional development practice is a reflection of the endurance of hierarchical development relations. The emphasis on capacity building requires “soft” exchanges to be justified in terms of their “hard” outputs. In short, all soft inputs are justified on the grounds that they are “capacity building”, and therefore can be linked to material outputs. Whilst international volunteers can build mutual cross-cultural understandings, this form of practice has been co-opted by contemporary neo-liberal development agendas, which require directly quantifiable outcomes of all forms of practice (Schech 2016). The emphasis on “capacity building” directly reflects this demand from development institutions for all practice to be focused on producing quantifiable outcomes, and this subsequently re-asserts the dominance of hierarchical development practice in the form of characterizing development as necessarily about the transfer of resources (in this case “capacity”) from donor to recipient. In the extract below, some of the GVI volunteers reflect on what impact they will have through their projects: RESEARCHER: JOHN: JULIE: KAT:

What will you do, as unskilled volunteers? Educate. Encourage them to do more themselves. I think… I’m not sure, but out there, I think even just having white people come and like, you know, show that they’re interested in being surrounded by them can motivate them to do more stuff themselves as well.

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You could be like teaching them, like, different ways of… like new different ways of teaching Maths and English. Like, if they’re just using a worksheet then you bringing in interactive ways and like planting things, and doing it in different ways can motivate one person who’s just not motivated at all… and that would be like… a good thing. GVI, “Before” Focus Group, April 2015

In a direct way, this extract can be seen to reflect the critique that voluntourism affirms colonial stereotypes, when Kat asserts that “just having white people come” can make an impact (Simpson 2004). However, the model that these volunteers contrast voluntourism with is equally problematic. In their pursuit of having an “impact” and trying to relate everything they do in Malawi to tangible outcomes, they are expressing a view shaped by the charity paradigm of development. Moreover, this perception reproduces a colonial vision in which Europeans are active agents and Africans are passive. Therefore, the emphasis on “capacity building” can be seen to be in this way against the pursuit of a partnership approach to development.

Being Mzungu Volunteers from GVI were further shown in the research to strategically use their position within the donor–recipient hierarchy of aid to more successfully implement their programs. This hierarchy can be seen to be embodied in the concept of the Mzungu, the most common word used for “white person” in Malawi. Throughout their time in Malawi, the volunteers were referred to as Mzungu, and whilst they generally found this to be unproblematic, at times they suggested that they were concerned that this term was affording them too much local political power. Moreover, they felt that there was a general misunderstanding amongst the organisations they worked with in Malawi over the wealth of Mzungu, and remarked that they felt their Malawian counterparts expected them to be far wealthier than they in fact were (GVI “During” Focus Group, July 2015). However, on other occasions, the volunteers appeared to use this identity to their own advantage. For example, in the focus group with GVI after they returned from Malawi, they specifically cited their identity as Mzungu as helping to fulfil their project aims: SIAN: I think it kind of raised awareness. SARAH: Yeah. SIAN: She still may have attended the event if we weren’t there but it certainly made it a bigger event. SARAH: I think, like, us being there and, like, saying “education’s important” and coming from somewhere different definitely helped. I don’t think it would have been as successful otherwise. GVI, “After” Focus Group, October 2015

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In the above extract, the GVI volunteers are discussing an awareness event they hosted, which was attended by a senior representative of the local educational authorities in Malawi. They felt that their being Mzungu was part of the reason for such a high-profile attendee, and therefore that this identity had helped them in fulfilling their project aims. Throughout my research period in Malawi, I also engaged with a number of members of Malawian organisations who had been working with international volunteers. In focus groups and in interviews, many respondents critiqued the view that Malawians had of Mzungu. For example, one remarked that “we need to stop seeing money from you. We find that Malawians, when they see Mzungu, they expect money” (Mr Maputo, Malawian Teacher, Field Notes, June 2015). However, another organisation cited that they had used their international volunteers to help them get regular funding for their orphan care program. For a number of months, they had been lobbying local businesses for funding, with no success. When international volunteers came to support their orphan care centre, staff invited the volunteers to accompany them to a local business headquarters to request funding in person, and were successful. The organisation’s director told me that he believe having Mzungu accompany them to the business added legitimacy to their organisation, and felt that the volunteers were ultimately the reason that their application for funding was successful (Mr Mbewe, Orphan Care Centre Manager, Malawi, Field Notes, June 2015). These two examples demonstrate that both sides of Scotland–Malawi “partnerships” can strategically use the identity of the Mzungu for their own ends. However, this identity is itself an embodiment of the hierarchy of donors over recipients. Therefore, that inequality can be seen in this example to be a fundamental aspect of the relations of development. Essentially, it is part of how the development practice functions. The relations of development, at this non-professional level, are therefore characterised precisely by the inequality that the partnership model ostensibly challenges. The emphasis that partnership approaches place on “capacity building” reaffirm the hierarchy of aid which places beneficiaries at the top, and mirrors the transfer of material donations characteristic of the charity approach to development. The exploration of the identity of the Mzungu illustrates one of the ways that development interactions are shaped by this unequal hierarchy. However, it also illustrates that there are occasions of consensus when both donor and recipient can use that inequality in pursuit of their goals. It is in such a way that the dominant discourse of development is resilient to challenges from attempts to establish “true” or “active” global partnerships.

Conclusion This chapter has considered how the criteria for what is good development have changed in recent years amongst development practitioners in Scotland. The SMP has successfully promoted a partnership model amongst a large community of

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Scottish international development organisations, many of whom have incorporated partnership principles into their practice. However, this research shows that at times organisations engage with partnership in name only, because it looks good to certain audiences. My research demonstrated that while organisations actually pursued a model of development more akin to a charity approach, in practice they claimed adherence to partnership principles. Furthermore, I presented analysis which demonstrated that what looks good in development differs depending on the context and audience. In understanding of this, development practitioners were shown to be adept at shifting discourses when presenting their work, dependent on their interpretation of the expectations of the audience. This was shown to present a unique challenge for the SMP, as whilst they were shown to have been successful in promoting their “partnership approach” to development practitioners in Scotland, the general public were regarded as associating development with a charity model. This meant that practitioners presented their work through the charity discourse to mass audiences. Therefore, the popular discourse of development, underpinned by the hierarchy of donor over recipient, was not being challenged in public spaces, and therefore what looks good in development was not successfully changing in Scotland. Lastly, I demonstrated that at present Scottish organisations are failing to fully implement an active partnership model with their Malawian counterparts, partly because the relation is embedded in the hierarchy characteristic of the charity model. Remarkably, however, both Malawian and Scottish organisations were shown to be able to manipulate this unequal hierarchy for their own ends. In the context of these relations of development, the dominant discourse was shown to be highly resilient, and this poses a significant challenge for those wishing to institute a partnership approach. My study suggests that the difference between what is considered by development organisations looking good and doing good is fluid and changes depending on context. Practitioners’ “performance” of development depends on their perception of what looks good, based on their interpretation of what their audience thinks is doing good. This has implications for development communication, as it challenges organisations to reflect on their own performance and the discourses from which they draw in their messaging. I have presented evidence which shows the progressive work of the SMP in Scotland. Whilst I have also demonstrated the very considerable constraints on their efforts to foster a partnership model, it is only through the understanding of these constraints that they can be overcome. Development organisations can draw from these findings to consider how their communication of what looks good, and what is good, might do better at achieving their goals.

Notes 1 2

“Small” is used in comparison to other national aid budgets, such as the UK, which in 2015 spent £12.239 billion on international development (DFID 2015). Note that the anonymity of all names of individuals, organisations, and locations (when appropriate) has been protected through the use of pseudonyms, with the exception of Jack McConnell (former First Minister of Scotland), the SMP, and MaSP.

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Dasgupta (2014) is just one of a great number of opinion pieces easily accessible through any search engine. Each critiques voluntourism on largely the same terms, and these critiques dominate the online perceptions of the practice.

References Anders, G. (2014). The value of Scotland’s links with Malawi: Building on the past, shaping the future, Scotland Malawi Partnership, Edinburgh. Bayly, P. (2017). David Livingstone, Africa’s greatest explorer: The man, the missionary and the myth, Fonthill Media, Stroud. Chambers, R. (1997). Whose reality counts? Putting the first last, Intermediate Technology Publications, London. ——— (1983). Rural development: Putting the last first, John Wiley, New York. Clemmons, D. (2012). Voluntourism: ‘A new future for aid’, accessed on 31 August 2017. www. aljazeera.com/programmes/peopleandpower/2012/05/2012521133546329829 Dasgupta, L. K. S. (2014). Instagramming Africa: The narcissism of global voluntourism, accessed on 31 August 2017. https://psmag.com/instagrammingafrica-the-narcissism-of-globalvoluntourism-e5001bf57fdf#.55c06e7fg Devereux, P. (2008). “International volunteering for development and sustainability: Outdated paternalism or a radical response to globalisation?” Development in Practice 18(3): 357–70. DFID (2015). Provisional UK official development assistance as a proportion of gross national income, Department for International Development, London. Hickey, S. and Kothari, U. (2009). “Participation,” in Kitchin, R. and Thrift, N. (eds.), International encyclopedia of human geography (pp. 82–90), Elsevier, Amsterdam. Impey, K. and Overton, J. (2014). “Developing partnerships: The assertion of local control of international development volunteers in South Africa.” Community Development Journal 49: 111–28. Lewis, D. (1998). “Development NGOs and the challenge of partnership: Changing relations between North and South.” Social Policy and Administration 32(5): 501–12. Lwanda, J. (2007). “Scotland, Malawi and medicine: Livingstone’s legacy, I presume? An historical perspective.” Scottish Medical Journal 52(3): 36–44. MaSP (2015). Annual report 2014–2015, Malawi Scotland Partnership, Lilongwe. McCracken, J. (2012). A history of Malawi 1859–1966, James Currey, Woodbridge. McLennan, S. (2014). “Medical voluntourism in Honduras: ‘Helping’ the poor?” Progress in Development Studies 14(2): 163–79. Mkandawire, A. C. (1998). Living my destiny: A medical and historical narrative, Dudu Nsomba Publications, Glasgow. OECD (1996). Shaping the 21st century: The contribution of development cooperation, OECD, Paris. Ross, K. (2015). Malawi Scotland and a relational approach to international development, Scotland Malawi Partnership, Edinburgh. Ross, K. and West, P. (2008). “Foreword,” in Scotland Malawi partnership strategic plan 2008–11, Scotland Malawi Partnership, Edinburgh. Schech, S. (2016). “International volunteering in development assistance: Partnership, public diplomacy, or communication for development?,” in Hemer, O. and Tufte, T. (eds.), Voice and matter (pp. 87–100), Nordicom, Gothenburg. Schech, S., Mundkur, A., Skelton, T. and Kothari, U. (2015). “New spaces of development partnership: Rethinking international volunteering.” Progress in Development Studies 15(4): 358–70.

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SG (2016a). Scottish government international development, accessed on 31 August 2017. www. gov.scot/Topics/International/int-dev ——— (2016b). Meeting global challenges & making a difference, Scottish Government, Edinburgh. ——— (2016c). Global citizenship: Scotland’s international development strategy, Scottish Government, Edinburgh. ——— (2012). Malawi development projects 2012/13–2014/2015, accessed on 31 August 2017. www.gov.scot/Topics/International/int-dev/mdp/malawidevelopmentprogramm/Malaw iprojects2012 ——— (2005). Scotland Malawi co-operation agreement, Scottish Government, Edinburgh. Simpson, K. (2007). Is voluntourism doing any good? No!, accessed on 31 August 2017. www. wanderlust.co.uk/magazine/articles/destinations/is-voluntourism-doing-any-goodno?page=all ——— (2004). “‘Doing development’: The gap year, volunteer-tourists and a popular practice of development.” Journal of International Development 16(5): 681–92. SMP (2017). Scotland Malawi partnership website, accessed on 31 August 2017. www.scotlandmalawipartnership.org/ ——— (2016a). SMP submission to Scottish government international development policy consultation, Scotland Malawi Partnership, Edinburgh. ——— (2016b). Annual report 2015–2016, Scotland Malawi Partnership, Edinburgh. ——— (2016c). Scotland and Malawi: One thousand partnerships, every Scottish constituency, Scotland Malawi Partnership, Edinburgh. ——— (2015a). Scotland’s civic links with Malawi: A short briefing, Scotland Malawi Partnership, Edinburgh. ——— (2015b). Scotland Malawi partnership submission to the UK Parliament’s international development committee inquiry on the sustainable development goals, Scotland Malawi Partnership, Edinburgh. ——— (2014). Public awareness study, Scotland Malawi Partnership, Edinburgh. UNDP (2016). Sustainable development goals, UNDP, New York. ——— (2015). The millennium development goals report, UNDP, New York.

4 COMMUNICATION ABOUT DEVELOPMENT AND THE CHALLENGE OF DOING WELL Donor branding in the West Bank Karin Gwinn Wilkins

Introduction Global development intervention is intended to benefit our communities through positive social change, doing good work. But when the performance of development becomes more a matter of looking good, then the goal of doing well may be sacrificed. This interest in the spectacle of public appearance may result in a lack of accountability towards solving significant global problems. The notion of doing well draws the attention of scholars to how citizens may (or may not) benefit over time given strategic intervention, necessary if development professionals and academics are to learn, reflect, and improve our projects for social change. In this study, I focus on bilateral branding by wealthy donor agencies, foregrounding the significance of power dynamics in situated development practice in order to promote the importance of attending to politics in studies of development communication. Through this analysis I consider the potential implications of this practice, particularly in terms of politics of place and placement. Development agencies assert their agendas, here illustrated through branding manifest in material artifacts in Bethlehem and Hebron, West Bank sites of considerable and significant political contestation. In a context of material destruction and human oppression, donors post physical plaques to signal their financial investment and to promote their beneficence. The work of global development is not just in the funding, but in the doing of development. The decision to engage in intervention at all builds on a determination that a specific condition should be seen as a problem, and that said problem can and should be solved. The agencies active in development intervention are quite varied, in structure and mission as well as in ethics and effectiveness. The practice of doing development is engaged through particular contexts, each with its own political and economic parameters structuring the potential for strategic intervention.

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The context of development in Palestine serves in this chapter as a critical illustration of how important it is to understand politics enacted in local, regional, and global relationships. This case is all the more pressing given the ways in which public agencies within the West Bank and Gaza function within their own communities, in relation to Israel, Arab neighbors, and other wealthy countries. The territories within the West Bank are subject to shifting boundaries and alliances, as Israeli agencies build walls and settlements, restrict mobility of people, and enforce divisions between Areas A (about 3% of the West Bank, controlled by the Palestinian Authority), B (about 22% of the area in awkwardly enacted but intentionally joint security control), and C (the largest area, under Israeli control). Historically the Palestinian community recognises 1948 as a defining moment, the Nakba, when more than 700,000 Palestinians fled or were forced from their homes in the territory that became Israel; and 1967 as another major exodus following the six-day war between Israel and its Arab neighbors. While the Oslo Accords Agreement in 1993 was applauded by those affiliated with the Palestinian Liberation Organisation (PLO), along with the US, European governments and others in the global community, not all Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza saw these agreements as beneficial to their quest for sovereignty and justice. Current conditions point to the gradual disintegration of the agreements. Following the signatures of the Oslo Accords, the Palestinian Authority was established in 1994 in order to create an agency formally able to receive development donations from the international community. Although the Palestinian Authority relies on this funding to cover just over one-third of its budget, only half of the funding promised by donors was actually allocated by 2015, and foreign assistance has been declining since 2012. Estimates from the International Monetary Fund show a decline from US$2.7 billion in 2008 to under US$800 million in 2015 (Abu Amer 2016). The largest development donors include members of the European Union and Saudi Arabia, among other Arab neighbors. US foreign aid has been inconsistent and controversial, and significantly less than that allocated to Israel. The Palestinian Authority serves not only as a conduit for foreign assistance, but also as a resource to build a national community with sovereign status. Strategic projects designed to facilitate development research and to promote sovereignty face considerable challenges, not only in funding but also in their implementation, given security blocks to mobility of people and products, such as cameras. This tension is illustrated by Palestinian campaigns to conduct a national census in 1998 (Wilkins 2004), facing Israeli refusal to allow counting of those with Palestinian identities in Jerusalem. Whether and how Palestinians navigate their immediate and global constraints to forge a formally recognised nation creates a complicated context for development work. Even with the complexity of intensely contentious political dynamics, in order to do so they are based on the argument that there is a need for development. Most development organisations now invest in strategic public communication campaigns meant to build an image of their work as beneficial and as effective (OECD 2014).

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Considering this concern with accentuating appearance, the broader issue becomes whether an emphasis on public relations may detract from evaluation aimed at assessing whether agencies are doing well. Murad’s experience as an international consultant in the West Bank illustrates how concerns with doing well get lost when projects define impacts in narrow ways. Referring to a consultancy contract with a Palestinian non-governmental organisation to write a toolkit for community development, she recalls: They printed 5,000 copies in English and then threw them away. Why? The donor wanted quality (measured by my credentials as an international consultant) and impact (measured by the number of copies of the publication), but didn’t pay for translation into Arabic, which meant distributing the toolkit to local users was meaningless. 2011, 514 She concludes that development donors’ stated intentions to offer assistance to the Palestinian community are clouded by donors’ political agendas (Murad 2011, 516). The notion of doing well here brings a focus on accountability not to donor interests, but to citizens at home in donor and host territories within a global community, as the way forward to using research to improve strategic intervention. Taking these parameters into account would build towards a type of accountability that might inform social justice dialogue (Lennie and Tacchi 2013; Wilkins 2016). The concern addressed in this chapter is that the branding practices of development agencies do more to assert an appearance of doing good, without enough consideration of whether the referent programs were done well.

Development intervention: doing good and doing well Despite the considerable variations in the structures and missions of the agencies currently operating in increasingly populated field of development donors, their overarching purpose is dedicated to improving social conditions (Dutta 2011; Nederveen Pieterse 2009; Wilkins, Tufte and Obregon 2014). It is this commitment to positive change for the greater good that institutes a commonality in the work of development agencies. Without an explicit articulation of public interest, institutional programs could not be seen as doing development work. The goal of the work matters, but so does the act of organisational intervention, doing the good that institutional missions envision. For accountability to materialise, evaluation is needed in terms of understanding the effects, both positive and negative, as well as intended and unintended, of intervention. While the articulated missions of development agencies allow us to identify their discourse – how they believe they can do good –, this does not answer the question of whether development strategies are doing particularly well. Kremer, van Lieshout, and Went argue that after decades of development “we know the development policies did not deliver what they promised” (2009, 15), even though

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actual evaluations are extremely limited in scope and in quality (Noske-Turner 2015). I highlight this argument not to advocate against evaluation per se, but to call attention to widespread assessment practices that are narrowly targeting projects rather than conceptualised broadly enough to consider the problems that development intervention is intended to address. More rigorous evaluations might inform contemporary debates over whether development warrants additional investment (Sachs 2005) or less centralised planning (Easterly 2006). Responsible research would pose broad questions considering the consequences of interventions in order to inform future discussions and decisions. But development strategies are difficult to contrast when relying on divergent cases and methodological approaches. Assessments, as well as interventions, imply models of social change, which may or may not be relevant to a particular issue and a specific context. As an illustration of this concern that interventions may not be designed with direct knowledge of the problem to be addressed, Hornik (1993) refers to “theory” as a failure in the case of development communication campaigns that wrongly assume communication may be an appropriate solution to a defined problem, such as information strategies designed to solve malnutrition when the problem may be the result of a lack of food and other primary material resources. Some scholars share the concern that when evaluation is done, it is rarely done well, or in a way that allows rigorous assessment incorporating a comprehensive set of conditions. Riddell (2009) laments a lack of accurate facts about development, pointing to methodological challenges in collecting reliable and valid data, and in designing research that would allow attribution to intervention. Donors do have an interest in evaluating the contribution of their interventions towards desired outcomes, yet this interest leads towards narrow assessments. The problem is that discrete evaluations do not contribute to the more comprehensive learning needed in order to build strategies to improve social conditions. Understanding of the effectiveness of development will moreover be limited when the scope of work is articulated in short- rather than long-term visions (Kremer, van Lieshout, and Went 2009). This myopic lens keeps agencies from studying long-term outcomes not easily attributable to a single intervention, avoiding observations of more fundamental trends, such as reducing poverty and improving living conditions. Development strategies need to consider the broader contexts in which interventions intervene, and to build from reflection based on serious assessment. For evaluation to contribute to reflection and renewal, critical approaches should be engaged that move attention from short-term program specific studies towards analyses of social consequences over time. This critical stance is important, and may be engaged in a variety of ways, through academic or applied scholarship. Research would require structural conditions such that the people and agencies engaged in assessment are granted continuity with secure professional funding regardless of their results. This is an ideal stance, problematised in specific conditions in academic and other institutions, but central in promoting the importance of critical scholarship.

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Trust in the knowledge thus produced may be generated through processes of participatory research strategies that engage citizens of host communities, with strong methodological approaches leading to results vetted through professional and community dialogue. Instead of evaluation that addresses the concerns of a donor elite, this approach would contribute to accountability by foregrounding a responsibility towards social justice and positioning interventions as one of many factors in relation to social problems studied over time (Wilkins 2016). But this focus on doing well may be jeopardised by a donor’s need to promote a particular appearance through donor branding.

Development discourses: looking good The public image of development intervention can be construed through analysis of discourse, situating communication as a way of looking at constructions of development rather than as a tool for development (Pamment 2015; Wilkins and Mody 2001; Wilkins 2016). Studies of communication about development have tended to explore the implicit narratives engaged in the selection and articulation of problems, characterisations of targeted communities, and assertion of institutional solutions as interventions. Population programs, for example, might be suggesting that women are responsible for fertility decisions, thus justifying strategies directed towards them alone, rather than aimed at promoting an understanding of the complex gendered dynamics within which people connect sexually and decide on contraception, or the social norms that guide decisions about relationships and families (Wilkins 2016). This approach to analyzing development as a discourse situates these narratives within implicit political ideologies (Richey and Ponte 2011). With this chapter, I expand this attention on discourse to highlight the explicit articulation of political interests through public communication. Public appearance matters to development agencies wishing to elevate their status (Cooper 2008; Wilkins and Enghel 2013; Wilkins 2015). Development donors wish to project the appearance of doing good in the world, justifying their work and their funding, and do so through investing in public relations. An illustration of such public relations efforts is the Gates Foundation’s investment in a program designed to “improve the narrative” of development, focusing on “good news stories” about the efficacy of foreign aid (McGoey 2015). But philanthrocapitalists are not alone in working to project their virtue as donors. Scholars of public diplomacy and national identity illustrate ways in which bilateral agencies promote particular political agendas through strategic campaigns. Kaneva (2011) describes nation branding as a way to assert donor superiority. In the context of assistance to the Palestinian Authority, some donors face serious criticism at home from those who assume inappropriately that the Authority is closely linked with terrorism (New York Post 2017). Palestinian citizens are also not uniformly happy being recipients of foreign aid, which offends national and cultural pride, and exacerbates internal tensions between the Palestinian Authority in the

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West Bank and Hamas in Gaza (Paragi 2013). The subject of this chapter, donor branding in public spaces, illustrates one aspect of this broader dynamic.

Political economy of place in donor branding Considerations of donor branding are situated within scholarship concerning a political economy of development (Aouragh and Chakravartty 2016; Enghel 2015); Li 2007; Mitchell 1999; Mosco 2009; Wilkins and Lee 2016). Attention to development donors as arbiters of global concerns and their projected resolutions, foregrounds these agencies as able to dominate the structures within which rules of intervention are initiated and negotiated in global context (Sparks 2007). Enghel recognises that “the ability to initiate and terminate actions lies with the funders at the expense of the citizens named as beneficiaries of initiatives, at times bypassing the governance structures of recipient countries” (2015, 15). At issue, then, is the assertion of donor interests along with the potential consequences to host communities. Development agencies assert donor branding to promote their work in public spaces. These strategic public relations may be situated through printed reports, digital sites, or even as material artifacts. It is this last category, donor branding on more durable postings, which forms the subject of this analysis: the metal and concrete signs exhibiting donor names and logos intended to highlight donor involvement in specific places in host communities. Vincent Mosco’s reminder of the importance of place in the political economy of communication, issued in 1999 but relevant still, is critical here. He calls for renewed attention to the political economy of the local, which would draw the links between transnational power and spatial convergence, to provide a clearer sense of what happens to the social and cultural lives of people when ‘globalisation hits the ground’, and to fashion new strategies of opposition that might constitute a genuine geography of resistance. Mosco 1999, 114 Attention to the political context in which communities may encounter development intervention becomes fundamental in understanding potential consequences of development practice. Putting development practice into context means foregrounding the conditions of intervention, particularly in areas affected by serious oppression and precarious foundations. The particular context of the West Bank offers a compelling case for understanding the limitations of development as a practice (Arafeh, Abdullah, and Bahour 2015; Murad 2011). As Tawil-Souri (2012) reminds us, “power of place” becomes absolutely central in understanding Israeli restrictions to Palestinians’ movements, resources, and rights. The material structures that limit mobility do so within physical space, as physical selves attempt to navigate access to food,

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employment, and health care, as well as to political and collective action (Kraidy 2016). Privileging attention to place foregrounds the material world in context, against a growing enthusiasm among academic scholars for digital space as a potential venue to mobilise resistance. Before I turn to questions concerning the assertion of bilateral logos positioned in areas of the West Bank where bilateral donors are active (Bethlehem and Hebron), I consider concerns raised by development professionals with material branding in host territories, perceived to privilege the profile of donors at the expense of local public agencies, development professionals, and engaged citizens.

Concerns in context In published accounts, practitioners raise a variety of concerns over the potential consequences of public branding. Meant to be visible in places where bilateral funding has been activated, public branding draws attention to infrastructure, such as buildings and bridges, where plaques are placed. In their concerted efforts to establish credit for their global interventions, there is a risk that donor agencies may be making their decisions over what and how to fund in accordance with how best to be visibly credited through a “branding imperative” (Vaishnav 2012). One concern is that bilateral agencies may be more likely to fund infrastructure that enables the placement of logos, such as schools and buildings, rather than “justice reform, economic empowerment or human rights that can’t be photographed” (Stewart 2012). Practitioners also question the extent to which an assertion of public branding may put development professionals at risk, particularly when a “logo inspires more animosity than goodwill” (Stewart 2012). The Irish government agency (Irish Aid 2016) explains that branding should not be used when it “may pose a risk to humanitarian workers who need to maintain independent impartial action”, and USAID details the possibility for its missions in host countries to develop local branding rules “as limiting public signs in high-threat environments” (2015, 11). Note though that these decisions are negotiated within donor agencies at higher levels of administration, leaving less senior development professionals engaged in field work vulnerable. Several groups mention the security implications of working with donor-identified cars in Pakistan and Afghanistan and thus prefer local unbranded cars. While the guise of “doing good” is meant to direct intervention, the politics at local, national, and transnational contexts necessarily alter the conditions through which branding accentuates the risk of people on site. Finally, practitioners raise a concern that foregrounding the political interests of donor communities through public branding may come at the expense of host governments and citizens. Branding development interventions with the marked identities of wealthy donors undermines the complex and significant contributions of host government and other local agencies that add the human, social, and political capital necessary for interventions to succeed. Stewart (2012) believes that

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the presence of donor logos may give an impression that a “whole town owed its existence to the altruism of sponsors from overseas”. When messages suggest that their needs are being met by distant others, thereby encouraging a sense of obligation to donor agencies rather than engagement with local governance, citizens may lose trust in local public agencies (Hoogeveen 2016). Next, I consider how these concerns, with attention to infrastructure, risk to professionals, and consequences to host citizens, may become relevant in the particular context of West Bank development.

Donor branding in the West Bank Development intervention within Palestinian territories in the West Bank channels funding from a variety of donors through the Palestinian Authority. Although there is not a specific estimate available on percentage of resources devoted to infrastructure, it is clear that funding for construction is necessary given repeated destruction of buildings and roads. However, in a context where professionals, as well as citizens, are vulnerable to potential violence, many Palestinians living in this area are highly critical of donors as more interested in their own agendas rather than supporting Palestinian sovereignty. Donor branding exacerbates this charge that donors care more about their own concerns than they do about their project recipients. Observing donor names on medicine boxes in the West Bank, Paragi suggests that this “(v)isibility was widely perceived as vanity” (2013, 16). In order to consider these issues, next I turn to two sites within the West Bank where development interventions are active and commemorated through public donor branding.

Method This case study draws from observations and meetings with various educational, media, and aid agencies operating in the West Bank in July 2016, with the support of a Faculty Development Fellowship awarded through the Palestinian American Research Centre (PARC). I was able to document donor plaques during visits to multilateral agencies, nongovernmental organisations, community groups, universities, and other agencies in Jerusalem and the West Bank. The archive of photographs produced was achieved through opportunistic rather than strategic means, resulting in a convenience sample. I chose to focus on two sites for this analysis, given their importance to donor and host communities. Donors featured in this analysis include bilateral agencies with membership in the Development Assistance Committee (DAC), ranked by the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) as prominent donors in 2016: the United States Agency for International Development (USAID), the Japan International Cooperation Agency (JICA), the German Corporation for International Cooperation (GIZ) and the Swedish International Development Cooperation Agency (SIDA). The US (USAID) allocates overall the highest amount

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in absolute dollars to foreign aid, but ranks much lower as a percentage of its gross national income (GNI). This pattern is followed by Japan (JICA), which ranks as the fourth highest donor in absolute terms, but comes closer to US in rank regarding proportion. German aid (GIZ) has been increasing, and the country is documented as the second highest donor in allocation, granting a much higher proportion than the US and Japan and meeting the United Nations target of 0.7 percent of its GNI. Sweden (SIDA) exceeds this target (OECD 2017). This foreign aid is meant to strengthen the Palestinian economy, which has been in serious decline, with rising unemployment and little stability given Israeli occupation. Although the broader landscape of contested territories following the 1967 Arab–Israeli war includes Jerusalem, Gaza, and the West Bank (Beinin and Hajjar 2014), in this research I focus on two sites in the West Bank, which were accessible to study, as well as serving as targets for development programs. This clearly does not in any way reflect a broader Palestinian experience, given the dramatically divergent politics of governance through the Palestinian Authority in the West Bank, Hamas in Gaza, and Israeli authorities in Jerusalem. Areas within the West Bank also are quite internally distinct with different levels of Palestinian and Israeli governance, with Israeli settlements varying in their degree of seclusion and hostilities in relation to proximate Palestinian communities. A point of unifying resistance is the concrete wall built by Israeli authorities, but well decorated with signs of protest. Bethlehem and Hebron represent two dominant city centres in the southern region of the West Bank, with distinct politics in relation to global development and investment agencies. Bethlehem is administered by the Palestinian Authority through what is termed an “area A”, while the space of Hebron is complicated by a closely encountered division of areas A, B, and C, defining governance between Palestinian (A), mixed (B), and Israeli authorities (C). Although a direct road links these two economic and cultural centres, local Palestinians are not permitted to use this path. Their movements are constrained by Israeli-defined identities laminated in colour-coded cards (Tawil-Souri 2011), through a politics of place that seriously limits physical movement. Bethlehem, including approximately as many Christian as Muslim Palestinian residents, represents a central target for development, tourism, and investment. In a USAID-funded tourism pamphlet including maps, photographs, and text, Bethlehem “and its surroundings” are described as hold(ing) extraordinary spiritual and historical significance due to its unique religious sites in particular the Nativity Church, birthplace of Jesus Christ. The tourism trails shown here will give visitors an exceptional opportunity to discover Bethlehem and its historic quarters, as well as its ancient treasures. USAID n.d. Although romanticised in tourism literature, Bethlehem also represents a home for investment, hosting conferences over the past decade, in line with the slogan that Palestine is “open for business” (Nakhleh 2012, 63). Nakhleh (2012) links capitalist investment projects to the interests of the local elite, along with development and aid agencies.

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Being such an attractive site for development, many donors are eager to contribute to projects in Bethlehem. In this context, conflicts may arise as agencies compete for recognition. When bilateral agencies are partnering with other organisations, USAID and DFID mandate that their own logos “be given due prominence with those of other donors” (DFID 2014, 6; see Figure 4.1 for illustration of sign with multiple donors). The United Nations (2013) similarly regulates that its own logo should be as large or larger than other logos when appearing together. What we then have is a visual sign including a cacophony of donor logos crediting financial capital of the wealthy agencies, but not the human contributions of workers and volunteers. Donor plaques are prevalent along the tourist paths within the city of Bethlehem. Some of these are quite large and eye-level (see Figure 4.1), whereas others are smaller and higher up on walls, marked by graffiti (2014; see Figure 4.2). These signs are meant to be durable and visible, given their material and placement, along tourist paths and in central squares.

FIGURE 4.1

USAID and partners in Bethlehem (Collection #4796; July 19, 2016)

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FIGURE 4.2

USAID in Bethlehem (Collection #4786; July 19, 2016)

Although access to water is one of the most critical needs in Bethlehem, donor responses to this need were not identified in any of the posted development signs observed. Instead, USAID announces its funding of “Holiday Lighting on Star Street” (2013; Figure 4.3). Another USAID donor sign (2014; Figure 4.4) declares its rehabilitation projects as a “gift from the American people” rather than as funded by them. Conceptualizing development investments as “gifts” implies a generosity that would not need assessment to gain currency (McGoey 2015). In contrast, a sign in close proximity (Figure 4.5) posted by the Swedish International Development Agency acclaims its “funding” by the agency, not its people. Whereas funding implies a legitimate and public transfer of resources deserved by host communities, gifting references more of a private transaction, privileging the virtue of the donor rather than the needs of the recipient. While Bethlehem represents potential for investment and tourism, Hebron offers an opposing experience, in which the once vibrant souk (market) now hosts few working stalls with very few customers. Historically one of the oldest cities in the region, Hebron was once a noted industrial centre, including glass factories and grape vineyards (PACE 1999). In recent years, violence between remaining

FIGURE 4.3

USAID in Bethlehem (Collection #4788; July 19, 2016)

FIGURE 4.4

USAID in Bethlehem (Collection #4802; July 19, 2016)

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FIGURE 4.5 SIDA at Hosh Hanania Rehabilitation Project in Bethlehem (Collection #4811; July 19, 2016)

Palestinians and a growing number of Israeli settlers has had devastating consequences to peoples’ lives and livelihoods. These settlers differ from those in other West Bank territories in that they do not separate from, but intrude into, centrally located homes, claiming entitlements based in more conservative religious ideologies. As a development response to this debilitating situation, a multilateral collaboration, the Temporary International Presence in Hebron (TIPH), has been

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funded and serviced by volunteers from Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Italy, Switzerland, and Turkey since 1994. The TIPH relies on a group of civilian observers who are permitted to monitor and document incidents, but their reports are not made public. One of these volunteers noted that being unable to intervene directly may be frustrating, but that they can act in ways that may indirectly constrain violence, such as by putting up mesh over alleyways, so that those from above cannot throw things on those walking below. Given the controversy surrounding this territory, it was not surprising that I did not find donor plaques from USAID in the centre of this town. Instead, one large sign posted by SIDA marks an intersection (Figure 4.6), as does another rather small sign posted by the Japanese International Cooperation Agency (JICA; Figure 4.7), with little text outside of its own logo. SIDA signs (Figures 4.5 and 4.6) are built into the rock walls, large and central for visibility, but not behind plastic as with the USAID signs in Bethlehem. In contrast to large stone SIDA plaques, the small metal JICA sign attached to an existing street post appears to be more of an afterthought than a strategic visible assertion. Walking through this desolate and strained area of Hebron, requiring permission for entry, felt entirely different from walking along public streets in Bethlehem groomed and ready for tourism. Standing apart from this tense area of central Hebron, surrounded with checkpoints and armed guards, is Hebron University in a different area of the city. This is described by internal documents as the first Palestinian University, established in 1971, with three-quarters of the 8,000–9,000 students being female (Hebron

FIGURE 4.6

SIDA in Hebron (Collection #4915; July 21, 2016)

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FIGURE 4.7

JICA in Hebron (Collection #4912; July 21, 2016)

University 2017). Among other majors, this University offers academic programs in communication, information technology, and multi-media. Building on their attraction for digital media in development, USAID places its logo high and central in its plaque acclaiming its “generous support” for the Hebron University Multi-media lab (Figure 4.8). In contrast, the German Development Agency (GIZ) minimises its logo in support of a career unit (Figure 4.9) in the same building. These

FIGURE 4.8

USAID at Hebron University Multi-media Lab (Collection #4885; July 21,

2016)

FIGURE 4.9

2016)

GIZ German Agency at Hebron University (Collection #4883; July 21,

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plaques serve as material reminders of previous financial contributions inside the University buildings.

Politics of place The bilateral logos of dominant agencies in many cases privilege attention to the national origins of the support provided. Posted in particular places where funding has been granted, these signs remain long after the project has ceased, as a sustained reminder that the valued financial capital transcends that of human and social capital in global development. In the cases of donor branding in Bethlehem, we see attention granted to projects of interest to donor agencies, such as Christmas lights, and to global elite, attracted to Christian sites of tourism. Not all in Bethlehem agree with the focus of these interventions or applaud foreign aid. Protest can be observed not only in published critiques, but also through graffiti (Figure 4.2), often serving as a political act of resistance, as evidenced in 2009 Iranian political protests (Shirazi and Wilkins 2017) and in 2011 Tunisian political protests (Kraidy 2016). Whereas logos are placed by donor agencies to assert their visibility, their reception may not be approval or appreciation. In Hebron, bilateral donors assert their beneficence on walls in academic buildings, supporting media labs and career services, or on buildings and signs in the local market, depending upon the extent and direction of controversy in donor countries. These posts assert the significance of individual projects at the expense of the broader agency and community constituencies that contributed to the programs and that are meant to sustain their benefits. The power of the financial donor then is manifest through the material signs left behind, long after the money is gone and the project has been concluded. This emphasis on donor elite through bilateral branding asserts the interests of donor citizens over those of host citizens, in ways that may restrict voice and participation, decision-making, and civic engagement. Edwards (2009) raises concerns that “northern NGOs” have been franchising their global brands instead of supporting authentic expressions of civil society, and stifling voices from the Global South. USAID claims to recognise this issue by stating that branding should not “under-cut host-country government ownership” (2015, 11), but rather than include host approval as part of their routine process, host agencies must request exceptions each time they object to specific public branding practices. This bureaucratic process that must be engaged each time there is a concern makes it difficult to challenge bilateral donor branding. A more respectful and effective process would begin consulting with host communities, in order to understand how issues of legitimacy and concern may guide perceptions and practices. If global development intervention, in this case “post-conflict” reconstruction, were to take its stated goals seriously, then doing well would matter more than looking good. But the public performance of intervention shines on the spectacle, but not the rehearsals or the backstage labour. Moving the focus from individual donor agendas to global equity would require collaboration, limited when donors are competing for territory and recognition through public branding practices.

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The potential to work towards social justice on a global scale is challenged when public agencies are more concerned with public relations than ethical and effective work. Just as critical research might raise concerns that consumption contributing to corporate profit might not be the best response to global inequity, our scholarship needs to question how branding strategies in public development agencies limit the potential to do better and more ethical work. Rather than legitimizing the extreme power of those who then get to determine global agendas, we might consider how best to articulate strategies that build on a sense of global social justice. We need to stop selling development as spectacle and invest in people as citizens with rights to dignity and respect.

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Stewart, J. (2012). “Stop branding aid.” WhyDev, 29 October, accessed on 14 September 2016. www.whydev.org/tag/transparency/ Tawil-Souri, H. (2012). “It’s still about the power of place.” Middle East Journal of Culture and Communication 5: 86–95. ——— (2011). “Colored identity: The politics and materiality of ID cards in Palestine/ Israel.” Social Text 29(2): 107, 67–97. United Nations (UN) (2013). “Guidelines on the use of the UN emblem,” October, accessed on 1 September 2016. www.un.org/styleguide/pdf/Guidelines_Use%20of%20UN%20 EMBLEM_internal_Oct2013.pdf USAID (2015). “ADS chapter 320: Branding and marking.” File Name: 320_010215, Responsible Office: LPA, Partial Revision Date: 01/02/2015, accessed on 1 September 2016. www.scribd.com/document/311147326/ADS-Chapter-320 ——— (n.d.). “Walk the old bethlehem” [Pamphlet, tourist map, photos, descriptions]. Produced in Cooperation with the Centre for Cultural Heritage Preservation, Bethlehem Municipality. Vaishnav, M. (2012). “Will branding hurt the ‘brand value’ of the UK’s aid agency?” Center for Global Development, 26 June 2012, accessed on 1 September 2016. https://www.devex.com/ news/sponsored/will-branding-hurt-the-brand-value-of-the-uk-s-aid-agency-78543. Wilkins, K. (2016). Communicating gender and advocating accountability in global development, Palgrave Macmillan, Hampshire. ——— (2015). “Celebrity as celebration of privatization in global development: A critical feminist analysis of Oprah, Madonna, and Angelina.” Communication, Culture & Critique 8(2): 163–81. ——— (2004). “The civil intifada: Power and politics of the Palestinian Census.” Development & Change 35(5): 891–908. Wilkins, K. and Enghel, F. (2013). “The privatization of development through global communication industries: Living proof ?” Media, Culture and Society 35(2): 165–81. Wilkins, K. and Lee, K. S. (2016). “Political economy of development,” in Hemer, O. (ed.), Voice & matter (pp. 71–86), Palgrave MacMillan, Hampshire. Wilkins, K. and Mody, B. (eds.). (2001). “Communication, development, social change, and global disparity.” Communication Theory Special Issue 11(4). Wilkins, K., Tufte, T. and Obregon, R. (eds.) (2014). Handbook of development communication and social change, Wiley-Blackwell, Oxford.

PART II

What next? Rethinking conventional approaches

5 BECOMING VISIBLE An institutional histories approach to understanding the practices and tensions in communication for development Jessica Noske-Turner, Jo Tacchi and Vinod Pavarala

Introduction This chapter provides a new perspective on the long-standing assumptions about the tensions between looking good and doing good in the practices of communication for development (c4d). Much of the literature relating to the practice of c4d within institutions suggests that the most significant barrier to practices of c4d is confusion between communication as Public Relations (PR) and communication for development functions (e.g. Quarry and Ramírez 2009; Gumucio-Dagron and Rodríguez 2006), exacerbated by a sense that c4d work is maligned and forgotten (Balit 2012; Gumucio-Dagron 2008). Nuancing these dominant narratives, our research, focusing in this chapter on the case of C4D1 practices within UNICEF, finds that the institutional co-option for PR purposes is not necessarily the only, or even the most significant constraint. Instead, we find an imperative for c4d to be visible to certain decision-making groups can be a more significant challenge. Visibility may come in the form of certain outputs, or in the form of tangible results. In keeping with Waisbord’s observations almost a decade ago that c4d often “lacks autonomy to determine goals and approaches” (2008, 513), we argue that this is still an underlying issue. Those who do have the institutional authority to direct and determine c4d approaches want to “see” c4d’s outputs and contribution, and have pre-existing expectations about what c4d is. The extent and nature of these expectations is highly dependent on the particular historical and national contexts. The circulation of power, combined with historically-and contextually-bound expectations, means that c4d teams needs to carefully navigate an imperative look good to those with institutional clout to make decisions about c4d in the course of their practice. In addition to Waisbord’s discussion of the challenges decision-making power facing the broader field, successive UN Inter-Agency Round Table Reports on c4d have also pointed to issues of this kind. Reports over the years have recommended that

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more is done to generate support for c4d from high-level decision-makers within UN Agencies, that more training on c4d is provided across all levels of the UN system to increase its understanding, and that there should be efforts towards generating better evidence of its impact so that it is more recognised and valued within institutions (McCall 2009).2 This chapter reinforces and adds nuance to these statements. In short, in this chapter we step away from thinking of “looking good” as a short-hand for PR and branding. Instead, we use the idea to reflect on how c4d practitioners approach the challenge of making their practice look good or become visible. In this context, this means working with an awareness of decision-makers’ expectations in terms of both the types of c4d strategies, and their demand for visible and tangible results in particular forms. The key decision-makers we refer to include parts of institutions other than c4d units with authority over the bulk of budgets, as well as the local government ministries and departments (at various levels) engaged. For these decision-makers, c4d approaches that focus on messages, billboards, posters, and media campaigns usually look and feel best. In contexts where participatory and radical approaches to communication are already difficult to use and promote, this tension poses additional challenges for less visible c4d approaches, and approaches that tend to have less tangible results. This chapter represents a subtle but important shift in terms of understanding the ways in which c4d can be constrained within institutions. However, the ways in which this issue emerges are not always subtle. Before moving to the specific case reflected upon, we share an example of the same problem from a different organisation that is a very straightforward illustration of the issues explored. This example was raised by a c4d practitioner in a conversation we had about the findings we reflect upon in this paper. This practitioner could strongly relate to the need for c4d to look good to certain decision-makers. While working for an NGO on a health project with international donor funding, he called his supervisor at the head office for advice on how to manage the growing impatience from non-c4d colleagues and their government partner, who were exerting pressure to deliver outputs and questioning the time that the community engagement processes were taking. The supervisor had the following advice: just put up four billboards – one in the city centre, one near the NGO office, one near the hotel that visiting development staff use, and one on the road to the airport. The strategy worked, and everyone was soon congratulating the practitioner on doing so much good c4d work. Then the c4d team was able to get back to what they considered the proper work of engaging with communities to develop appropriate, co-created communication outputs. While it is a basic and implicit assumption across the literature – both scholarly and practical – that c4d content is designed with and for communities, this account of erecting four strategically-placed billboards illustrates that a key audience for c4d are fellow (internal) development practitioners, governments, donors and others with decision-making power. Pragmatically, in these contexts, c4d teams are obliged to meet their expectations for visible c4d if it is to be able to “do good”. We contribute to this debate through a reflection on the ways C4D is defined and delivered within four UNICEF offices. UNICEF is a significant case as one of

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the few UN Agencies with a large number of dedicated C4D staff, and as an agency within which the practice has been growing in terms of investment in personnel and programming over the past decade. This chapter is informed by a qualitative analysis of a series of institutional histories of C4D in selected UNICEF offices, undertaken during a collaborative research project intended to develop learningbased approaches to evaluation of C4D. The technique of mapping institutional histories involves a process that draws on the knowledge of UNICEF staff, mapping micro-level changes and organisational structures alongside macro changes in discourses and global events. The resulting histories – subjective, partial, and non-representative as they are – reveal a rich range of interconnected factors, shifts, and legacies that influence how C4D is understood and practiced today. The four institutional histories described offer new insight into the struggle faced by C4D practitioners to be able to do good, and to be recognised as doing good in UNICEF3. Chiefly, it sheds light on an underlying pragmatic imperative to implement approaches that are visible and “look good”. While C4D has become a well-defined area of practice within UNICEF, challenges persist because of a convergence of different communication functions, which can favour more message-driven approaches. T-shirts, media presence, posters, and billboards with key development and behaviour change messages, are highly visible and familiar forms of communication that play well to the expectations to those outside of C4D teams and are more amenable to reporting as “results”. Other factors have also been identified, including historical recruitment processes that targeted candidates with training in journalism and media. Importantly, the institutional histories also point to factors that have positively repositioned and broadened the understandings and expectations of C4D, including both deliberate strategies by UNICEF C4D, and other broader contextual events. These examples may provide models for how to foster institutional environments where officers can more strongly advocate for c4d approaches based on principles (even when outcomes are less tangible), rather than be pressured into using certain methods because they “look good” to decisionmaking groups.

Overview of UNICEF’s organisational structure Because in this chapter we refer to different parts of the organisation and how its structures have changed over time (beginning before C4D was an official institutional term), it is useful to start by outlining UNICEF’s different components and related terminology. What follows is a simplified overview of how the organisation is structured and C4D’s position within it. UNICEF has its Headquarters in New York, seven Regional Offices, and around 193 Country Offices (COs). The majority of UNICEF’s operations are organised around theme-based programs. Examples of programs include Health, Nutrition, HIV/AIDS, Child Protection, Water Sanitation, and Hygiene (WASH), etc. A program section (a team, usually headed by a Program Chief ) is responsible for managing the implementation of a program. In addition, there are some sections that cut

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across all programs, such as Gender, Adolescents, Early Childhood Development, etc. Today, C4D is institutionally organised as a cross-cutting function. In 2014 there were a total of 308 UNICEF staff working exclusively on C4D across the organisation (UNICEF 2016, 69). The C4D Section has a small team at the Headquarters level that is responsible for strategy, policy, coordination, and management. Many Regional Offices, for example the Eastern and Southern Africa Regional Office (ESARO), have a C4D Regional Advisor with a small support team. Throughout the period of our research, the C4D presence at Regional Office level grew as new Regional Advisor positions were created. The majority of UNICEF C4D staff are located at the CO level (though not every CO has dedicated C4D staff ). There are four main ways C4D may be structured within a COs: C4D as a standalone section; C4D staff embedded in Program Sections; a C4D Unit situated within a Program Section; or C4D officer(s) situated within the External Communication Section (UNICEF 2016, 90–1). There are also differences between C4D Officers who are full-time C4D staff and C4D Focal Points, who are staff with technical expertise in other disciplines with some training in C4D and C4D responsibilities added to their main role. These structures are discussed in more detail in later parts of this chapter. As with all programs, C4D at the CO level works, closely with a range of government departments and ministries (departments/ministries of information/communication, health, children, etc.) and a wide range of NGOs to implement C4D initiatives. Since this chapter is concerned with changes in terms, meanings, and practices over time, terminology is critical. We use the term “development communication” as a generic, umbrella term to cover all possible interpretations and approaches to using communication strategically as an element of UNICEF’s development work (including C4D). The term “development communication” is especially used when referring to such practices within UNICEF prior to “C4D” becoming an official term in UNICEF in 2008–2009. Today UNICEF officially defines C4D as “a systematic, planned and evidence-based process to promote positive and measurable individual behavioural and social change” (UNICEF 2015, 8). UNICEF also has a separate Division of Communication and its communication teams in every office, which are primarily focused on public advocacy about the agency’s mandate for child rights and development, and on external communication for the organisation. At the time of writing in 2017, the distinction between the agency’s Division of Communication’s mandate, and the C4D section’s responsibilities as outlined above, is generally well understood within UNICEF.

Methodology This chapter explores the institutional challenges to using development communication/C4D approaches by drawing on partial findings from a three-year collaborative project with selected UNICEF offices and its partners (including both government and local NGO partners), funded by the Australian Research Council, UNICEF Headquarters and the Eidos Institute (2014–2017).4

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The overall project The research project worked with UNICEF C4D at Headquarters, one Regional Office and six Country Offices across Africa, South Asia, and South East Asia. These offices were purposefully identified by UNICEF New York as interested in engaging in this type of collaborative research and tended to have bigger, more active C4D teams (usually at least three or four dedicated C4D staff ). The project was designed to respond to the C4D Section’s need for a robust, comprehensive and grounded framework for evaluating C4D work, and adopted a participatory action research approach (Kindon, Pain, and Kesby 2007). The overall aim was to encourage adaptive and responsive approaches to C4D supported by learning-based monitoring and evaluation, balanced against the responsibilities for accountability. We engaged with UNICEF and its partners in cycles of describing, and reflecting on, challenges and processes, creating resources and tools, using them in practice, and reviewing and reflecting on outcomes. In this way, the research built on existing capacity, empowering practitioners to use their knowledge, ideas and learning about C4D evaluation effectively, while also encouraging critical attention to the systems and practices that perpetuate problems.

The methodological focus of this chapter This chapter draws specifically from findings derived from the institutional histories technique, used at an early stage of the research project. The technique relies on a learning-based, collaborative process of building a narrative and reflecting upon how ways of working within organisations have changed over time (Prasad, Hall, and Thummuru 2006; Douthwaite and Ashby 2005; Becker et al. 2013). The research team was interested in how institutional history mapping could be used to understand what C4D means in theory and practice within UNICEF, and how concepts and practices have changed over time. The general process involves key stakeholders in an iterative process of mapping (often in the form of timelines), writing, probing for more details, seeking verification of timing of changes and interrogating macro and micro connections. The institutional history is then documented, shared and discussed for organisational learning. The technique was used in workshops with C4D staff (and in some cases staff from program teams) in four UNICEF offices. Because the process is flexible, it was not administered in exactly the same way across each of the COs. In two offices, we built the histories on the spot during group work with local teams, using flipchart paper. In the other two offices, we used recorded interviews and the history narrative was then constructed retrospectively. The timeframes covered differ too, driven by the knowledge and interests of the particular UNICEF teams participating. Descriptive reports based on the institutional histories were shared back with the Country Office teams. A recent UNICEF-commissioned corporate evaluation of C4D capacity and action, led by Mary Myers and Rob Lloyd (UNICEF 2016), has been particularly useful for cross-checking key dates and milestones,

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as well as providing indications of how widespread the richer findings discussed in this chapter may be. The technique highlighted some of the acute and chronic factors constraining C4D in UNICEF, and locates contemporary problems in an historical context. At the same time, it is important to recognise that the histories resulting from the process are subjective, partial and non-representative, based on people’s own perspectives and memories. With this in mind, rather than attempting to present an authoritative history, in this chapter we use the institutional maps as a starting point for our interpretation and analysis, with the aim of provoking a reflection on the ways organisational contexts influences c4d. Because the analysis is the authors’ and not the participants’, we have anonymised the offices involved. In the next section we briefly summarise each of the institutional histories and then analyse the findings holistically to understand the continuities and changes in understandings of development communication/C4D how this relates to changing structures, and reflect on the implications in terms of the pressures for C4D to look good.

FIGURE 5.1

An institutional history workshop. © Evaluating C4D project

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Overview of the institutional histories Composition and focus: Country Office (CO) perspectives One of the striking aspects of the four institutional histories is the different perspectives they offer. It is clear from the individual histories that the ways in which C4D is practiced today within any given offices is influenced by its historical context. The narratives are also highly complementary, and taken together provide a nuanced narrative of development communication (prior to 2008) and C4D (post the 2008–2011 institutional changes) within UNICEF over time. The C4D team in Country Office 1 (from now on, CO-1) had the longest institutional memory. The team’s collective memory of development communication extended back to the 1980s, when social mobilisation played a significant role in the polio and immunisation campaigns, one of UNICEF’s global priorities at the time. The discussion in the institutional history workshop primarily focused on local interpretations of global development discourses (such as the needs-based development, the human rights agenda, Millennium Development Goals etc.) and their influence on the role and structure of development communication. Detailed comparison of the different organisational structures was highlighted, describing how this shaped practices and understandings of development communication. The structure of C4D in CO-1 is quite significant and stands out among the four Country Offices participating in the institutional history mapping processes. It offers an example of C4D staff being embedded in program sections and reporting to the relevant Program Chiefs. Further, the majority of C4D responsibilities in the CO-1 are managed by C4D Focal Points, meaning that only a portion of their workload and responsibilities are C4D related, or, put differently, that their C4D work is embedded in their program work. The embedded structure is a continuation of a consistently strong association between development communication functions and programs in this office. Although there were noted coordination challenges with the embedded structures across time (with a lack of integration of development communication/C4D across programs), the C4D team in this office has implemented a number of examples of less visible and more intangible types of C4D, including participatory action research, use of community and child researchers, and the engagement of listening clubs around radio dramas. In Country Office 2 (from now on, CO-2), C4D is a standalone section, with a Chief of C4D and three C4D Officers/Specialists. The C4D team described themselves as operating “like a team of lawyers”, with each working with a specific focus (capacity development, evidence generation, standard setting, and community engagement) to support all program sections. The office highlighted their proactive internal advocacy work to increase the standing of C4D within the office. The institutional history discussion gave some context for the reasons why this internal advocacy had been important. Specifically, the CO-2 C4D team reflected on a strong emphasis on the uses of mass media as a key development

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1980

Child Rights

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Social Mobilisation

Campaign driven, “messages”, mostly health, esp. immunisation Social Mobilisation

MDGs & National Goals

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Program Communication

“Advocacy”, “Voice”, “Consultations”.

Program communication Program

Program

Information Communication Unit Program communication

FIGURE 5.2

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Program Communication within Information & Communication

SDGs

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TV, Radio, Posters. 5% budget for C4D/comms Sometimes clashes in messages. “Big gap between C4D and program” Program

HQ led “Mainstreaming of C4D”, promotion across all programs, embedded in programs. Budgeted based on outcomes, not %. Program

Health (80%) C4D WASH (20%)

C4D Focal Point / Specialist C4D consultant coordinator from 2015

An example of an institutional history map – Country Office-1

communication strategy during the late-1980s to early 2000s. Corresponding with this, during the 1990s, development communication was structurally much more aligned and at times merged into the External Communication Section. Recruitment practices during those times targeted practitioners with journalism and media messaging backgrounds. In 2001, development communication functions became more distinct and Program Communication Officer positions were created. In 2007, the Communication Partnerships and Participation team was formed, and then renamed C4D in 2009 in keeping with institution-wide strategies (discussed below). The C4D team in CO-2 noted that the historical association between mass media and development communication has had a lasting legacy. In recent years, the team has taken proactive steps to “orient” colleagues as to what C4D is about in order to challenge and debunk this old association. In Country Office 3 (from now on, CO-3), the institutional history was quite tightly focused around two Country Program Cycle periods, 2005–2011 and

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2012–2016 since there was no direct institutional memory in the team prior to this time. These institutional milestones were found to broadly coincide with significant conceptual shifts in development communication, in line with the fact that the lead up to a new Country Program Cycle is a key period of review and change. Also of note is that the C4D team in CO-3 underwent some changes within the period of the research project (2014–2017). In 2014 it was a standalone section headed by a Chief of C4D, with three C4D officers who were each assigned responsibilities as “Focal Points” for two or three priority program sections. By 2016, the Chief of C4D had been promoted, moved to a different office, and the remaining team was by then made up of two C4D Officers. There were a number of strategic and pragmatic reasons for this, including a reduction in overall development funding as a consequence of the country’s transition to the middle-income country category as defined by the World Bank, and growing local capacity. An important characteristic of CO-3 is how it works very closely with the government, especially at the national level, offering technical advice for governmentimplemented programs. This is different from CO-1 and CO-2, where governments are partners in planning and managing, but much of the implementation is undertaken by local NGOs. This national context, and the cooperation with the government, strongly influences the types of C4D strategies that are used. Historically, the development communication approaches in CO-3 have been informed by the national government’s preference for more centralised, top-down communication models and have focused on the production of Information Education and Communication materials. The UNICEF C4D team has worked hard to introduce and promote more participatory approaches into the government’s practices. A pandemic in the mid-2000s that affected large parts of the region was noted as a significant trigger for a more holistic approach to behaviour change communication, since it became obvious that messages alone were not enough to address the complex challenges involved. The C4D team in Country Office 4 (from now on, CO-4), like those in CO-2 and CO-3, is also a standalone section. Similar to CO-3, the team is headed by a Chief of C4D, with seven staff members assigned C4D responsibilities as of 2015. These officers serves as “Focal Points” to the various program sections, which the C4D teams refers to as their “clients”. Structurally, through to 2002, development communication in CO-4 was integrated within particular program areas, and was conceptualised predominantly as social mobilisation and message dissemination, particularly for awareness generation through Information Education and Communication materials. In 2008–09 Program Communication was formally renamed Communication for Development (C4D), in keeping with the other offices participating in the institutional histories. The close working relationship between the CO-4 and the national government has an important influence on its practice of C4D. While previously it undertook work at the field level, directly engaging with NGOs and communities, in 2008 CO-4 (across the office) shifted its operational policy to work in a more “upstream”

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manner. This means that it collaborates directly with higher levels of government with the aim of influencing policy decisions and scale-up of programs. Under this upstream approach, the C4D section also partners with the relevant government departments. They intervene in three main ways. First, through capacity development of various ministries, which includes skills development, development of training packages and resources, and links with academia. Second, through technical guidance for programming and implementation. Third, through direct institutional support and technical assistance to communication units.

Institution-wide changes between 2008 and 2011 The period between 2008 and 2011 was a key turning point identified in most institutional histories in COs. Prior to 2011, the institutional history narratives of the different COs were multifarious, with the framing, understanding and practices of development communication predominantly influenced by local and regional factors and very little influence from Headquarters. However, from 2008 through to 2011 Headquarters-driven strategies become much more prominent, and the key themes in the four different institutional histories begin to converge, although the context and experience in each office remains distinct. After a brief hiatus of the Programme Communication team at Headquarters level, in 2008 the unit was expanded and renamed Communication for Development, a term chosen to align with the broader c4d field and with the UN system. The change of name signified a new vision, according to which communication tools would be used to unpack and to address socio-cultural, behavioural and normative factors that either hinder or accelerate positive change. The vision also emphasised that communication products and materials are not the main output or outcome of using C4D for achieving program results; instead, a systematic-evidence informed and participatory process needs to be used. In 2012, the C4D Unit became a C4D Section, giving it more institutional prominence (see UNICEF 2016, 33–4 for more details). The CO institutional histories noted the 2008–2011 period as the point when “C4D” was introduced as the preferred, institution-wide term and there was a clear and consistent strategy, including decisions to rename units/sections in COs, and in some cases, restructuring. In 2011, UNICEF Headquarters contracted Ohio University and co-developed a training course for the agency’s C4D, communication and program staff. From this point on, there is a clearer direction towards positioning C4D as a cross-cutting strategy, and efforts to “mainstream” it so that it contributes across all program areas. These initiatives combined to bring a more connected sense of a C4D identity across the various COs, and more uniform way of conceptualizing its approach. For the purposes of this chapter, it is important to understand that, as a cross-cutting section, C4D teams primarily contribute to achieving program objectives funded from program budgets. Although it is possible for C4D teams to seek to raise their own donor funds, program funds are their main source of funding.

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Between the lines: pressures for C4D to look good The institutional histories provide a basis for analyzing tensions between efforts to implement C4D to do good, and pressures to make these practices look good – both internally and in the eyes of some other key decision-makers, such as government counterparts. The analysis of the institutional histories reveals some of the issues of power and dependency leading to C4D needing to perform to particular internal and external stakeholders, and how this has shaped the need to demonstrate “results”.

C4D and historical associations with media The institutional histories provide some historical examples (albeit limited) of where C4D is strongly associated with mass media and media content. In part this occurred where development communication and external communication functions were structurally combined, and although the boundaries between the two functions are now clearly understood, historical contexts did have some influences in those COs where that was the case. The CO-2 institutional history was the one that most strongly articulated blurred roles for communication within the institution. They C4D team in CO-2 described how prior to 2008–2011 development communication had been “bobbing between a [external communication] section and programme component” (IT_CO-2 2015, personal communication, 13 October),5 which left legacies that have been difficult to disrupt. In the 1990s, development communication and external communication (now Division of Communication) were combined into one unit, and “advocacy communication”, and media- and content-centric approaches to development communication dominated. The team described a sudden shift from community engagement and social mobilisation in the 1980s to the 1990s where: Boom! Media! Everything went media, everything went campaign. Because it was easy to put something in the media and reach everybody. IT_CO-2 2015, personal communication, 13 October This historical conflation was seen by the CO-2 C4D team as the reason that the success of development communication/C4D has continued to be framed around reach and visibility. The persistence is also a result of past hiring priorities, with many current C4D staff originally recruited for their backgrounds in journalism, content production and external communication. The team felt that this media-centric focus has only recently shifted towards more community engagement approaches, due to active efforts to challenge this at both the headquarters level and the country office level (the details of which are revisited later in this chapter).

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More generally, “advocacy communication”, which seeks to generate policy change through strategies such as social mobilisation and media campaigns, is the one area of practice where there is continued overlap between C4D and External Communication (/Division of Communication) within the agency. In the academic literature, policy advocacy is increasingly recognised as core to C4D work (Waisbord 2015; Tufte 2017). Yet, because of the historical legacies, exemplified by the above reference to CO-2’s case, where advocacy communication was always part of the External Communication’s remit, it continues to be led by that section today. It is important to note, however, that today this overlap is broadly unproblematic. In general, initiatives for which there is some overlap are delegated or shared based on pragmatic considerations, such as which team has resources including staff availability (UNICEF 2016, 96).

C4D’s “clients” Because it is not a standalone program, C4D typically needs to negotiate with programs for funding within the budget to be allocated to C4D strategies. Although other funding avenues can be sought, as a cross-cutting section C4D is for the most part dependent on program budgets. This came through in a number of the CO’s institutional histories. In CO-1, where development communication has a long trajectory of tightly associating development communication with programs, the constitution of budgets has been significant in the narratives and memories. In the 1980s, development communication, which at that time focused on “social mobilisation”, was undertaken from within program teams. Then, in the 1990s, a separate “Program Communication” section was formed, funded by contributions from the program budgets. In 2011–2012, following strategic interventions from Headquarters, the “C4D Section” in the CO-1 was structured according to an embedded model, where C4D Officers/Specialists and Focal Points6 are located in program sections. In mapping these changes over time, very specific facts about the ways in which C4D budgets were constructed were noted. C4D experienced the greatest pressures to demonstrate an ill-defined idea of results when budgets were determined based on set percentage of overall program budgets (e.g. 5%), compared to more defined and specific expectations when budgets were determined by outcomes. Tensions around access to program budgets is a noted institution-wide problem in the contemporary setting, where lack of financial resources for C4D is seen as the dominant barrier to the implementation of new knowledge about C4D by 91% of respondents to a survey (UNICEF 2016, 62). This can be exacerbated in negotiations with program sections that use community engagement, dialogue and community action-driven processes as staple integrated programmatic approaches, rather than providing budget to C4D to manage those kinds of initiatives. There can be “tensions with other sections feeling that C4D is encroaching on their space” (UNICEF 2016, 96), and vice versa, with C4D feeling sidelined. This is also related to the challenges of cross-cutting areas of practice in a broader sense.

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International development is tightly organised around sectors or “categories” (Green 2011), and, in working in cross-cutting ways as C4D does, access to government ministries, program budgets, and decision-making processes is an intrinsic challenge. The consequences of this financial dependency is put into stark terms in CO-4, where the program teams are informally referred to as the C4D team’s “clients”. This choice of term is significant. It overtly places C4D in a service-provision position in relation to program teams. This dynamic is correlated with, and perhaps exacerbated by, the explicit policy in CO-4 to focus on “upstream” policy advocacy work, which means a narrowing of C4D to focus on policy advocacy communication (UNICEF 2016, 95). Although the CO-4 C4D team is able to push for new approaches and experimentation in some ways, and able to manage a number of large interventions, it is also beholden to the needs and directions of program teams. Because they are in charge of budgets and allocation, there is a sense in which program teams can dictate the nature of C4D work.

Feel good and visibility An extension of the lack of stability and control over budgetary decisions is a subtle pressure to engage in more visible, tangible forms of communication. According to C4D teams, program sections tend to see them as simply as producers of communication materials. Much of this is a consequence of the legacy associating development communication with media campaigns and content production, and of the “client” type relationships where decisions about C4D are largely driven by program teams who expect to “see” C4D. Combined, these factors tend to lead to quite narrow practices of C4D, which is expected to “feel good” and be visible to key decision-makers. It is here that the institutional histories reveal the subtle ways in which C4D that looks good – i.e. that is highly visible and measurable, such as posters, mass media, and t-shirts – dominates over approaches to C4D arguably required for doing good: that is, for achieving longer-term, more holistic, and deeper social change (Thomas and van de Fliert 2014; Quarry and Ramírez 2009; Manyozo 2017). C4D teams stated that program teams generally “only want Information Education Communication (IEC) material because it’s visible and easy to see the result” (IT_CO-3.2 2015, personal communication, 5 March). Teams critically reflected on their “feel good feeling” when “you see a spot message and we feel we’ve achieved” (IT_CO-2 2015, personal communication, 13 October). “Success” is best when it is highly measurable, such as reach statistics in the millions of people. By contrast, participatory communication processes in particular, work against institutional logics that prioritise rapid results within short funding cycles (Waisbord 2008, 512). This process of displaced goals can be understood in part by recognizing that decision-makers in charge of investments in C4D become the key “audiences”. We have already pointed to program sections as powerful decision-makers due to

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budgetary structures. Another very important “key audience” are national governments. Large development institutions, and UN Agencies in particular, need to look good to their government counterparts. Not only do development agencies need to “maintain civil relations with domestic actors (particularly governments) to ensure programs run smoothly through bureaucratic mazes” (Waisbord 2008, 516), under partnership models, UNICEF requires the goodwill and support, and often the cooperation, of local governments for the design, implementation and evaluation of intervention strategies. For example, a member of the C4D team in the CO-2 recalled the damaging consequences of an instance where a senior government official came to the conclusion that the reason for poor program results was that the “the communication failed us” and argued that they had not seen enough posters. This perception or “mindset” (IT_CO-2 2015, personal communication, 13 October), focusing on visibility and Information Education and Communication materials, limited the CO-2 team’s ability to push for further investment in C4D, let alone their preferred approaches such as community engagement. This sentiment is widespread, with an internal UNICEF C4D capacity study finding that lack of support and capacity from government counterparts was the second most significant block to effective implementation of C4D, with 65% respondents identifying it as a problem. The study finds this is in part because the government counterparts’ “traditionally viewed C4D through the lens of production of material for information, education and communication” (UNICEF 2016, 63), and therefore project those kinds of expectations onto the design and practice of C4D.

Results and visibility The subordinate position of C4D also contributes to the current emphasis on results and evidence. There is great pressure to show direct attribution from investments in C4D to measurable results in order to justify future budget allocation to C4D. Polio campaigns were seen across offices as good examples that other areas of C4D should seek to learn from, because the contributions of C4D to vaccine uptake have been more visible – that is, more easily measured and attributed. While C4D, like all areas of development programming, has a responsibility to be evidence-based in its practice, the problem is that its outcomes, particularly those from participatory processes and community engagement approaches, are harder to isolate and measure using conventional and standardised monitoring and evaluation approaches (Lennie and Tacchi 2013). A reframing is required in order to recognise that, when combined with other strategies, these types of C4D approaches often contribute to less tangible outcomes (combined with a range of other interacting factors). Continuing to use mainstream registers for measuring results is likely to mean that the value of those types of C4D will remain institutionally invisible. Compounding this further, C4D teams are also dependent on program teams for funding their evaluation. The CO-3 C4D team pointed to an example where this

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became a vicious cycle. A small pilot initiative using participatory communication approaches to encourage school children to share their visions for the future could not be properly evaluated because of a lack of funding. This in turn impacts on the ability of team to show the value of C4D, particularly the more intangible, more difficult to evaluate outcomes of participatory communication efforts: If we don’t have the evidence we can’t convince [them] that it’s something that we need to do in the next country program. At that time we didn’t have funds for a big scale evaluation, we [could only] evaluate in the school. We [just] went to the school festival, [with] a questionnaire and asked the parents and teachers about our program. IT_CO-3.2 2015, personal communication, 5 March The issues here are interconnected and self-reinforcing: a lack of decision-making power over C4D investment, design, and evaluation leads to fewer examples of good quality C4D programming that are adaptive, participatory and holistic, and to limited evidence. This can have a paralyzing effect on C4D practice where evidence is critical to future negotiations.

Overcoming issues of visibility While the institutional histories shed light on the challenging nature of institutional relationships constraining C4D, they also uncover examples of ways teams are able to resist the pressure to choose options because they “look good” to certain groups. The ability for C4D teams to lead within the institution across all levels is critical to this. The CO-2 C4D team has undertaken deliberate and rigorous training in what C4D means for their peers across the office. This led to widespread understanding that C4D work is not ( just) about printing t-shirts. One particular interaction when partners suggested printing t-shirts was recounted during our institutional history mapping: So, somebody suggested that “Oh, maybe we should do t-shirts”. All the [UNICEF Program] chiefs went “No. We don’t print t-shirts in this office.” So, I think for me that was very good feedback because… there is a shift. Before everybody would have resorted to t-shirts and scarfs and things. IT_CO-2 2015, personal communication, 13 October This represented a moment of triumph for this C4D Officer: a demonstration of the success of their on-going orientation efforts to explain to colleagues and partners what C4D can be, beyond the more visible, expected types of outputs. This mirrors and localises efforts from Headquarters level to orient staff across the institution in C4D concepts and approaches, through, for example, the course on C4D delivered via Ohio University.

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Additionally, certain structures, such as the case of CO-1, where C4D specialists are embedded in program sections, may also achieve more genuine integration of C4D work and the opportunity to lead decision-making. It seems that in CO-1, reaching an understanding that C4D can make intangible but nonetheless important contributions to programs becomes a more straightforward proposition. This structure, however, does have drawbacks, such as limitations in the overall cohesion and vision for C4D that cuts across program areas, and time pressures in busy workloads (UNICEF 2016, 93–4). On the other hand, it is interesting to note that some of the greatest periods of growth of C4D in UNICEF have occurred in response to particular regional and global events. The strongest example of this was the Avian Influenza outbreak in Asia in the mid-2000s. This brought about mainstream recognition of the importance of c4d beyond information transfer. This had material impacts for UNICEF C4D globally, with a peak in staff recruitment in 2007 attributed to the outbreak. C4D staff employed by UNICEF globally rose from 102 in 2006 to over 200 in 2007. While some of that was temporary employment, the number of staff after the AI outbreak was significantly higher than before, at 150 in 2008 (UNICEF 2016, 9). C4D staff levels in UNICEF have continued to steadily climb over the past decade to approximately 250 in 2013. The Ebola outbreak again brought mainstream attention to c4d, and UNICEF C4D similarly saw another spike in staff levels to 308 in 2014. While some of these are again temporary positions, it indicates that these global and challenging events, paradoxically, draw attention to the importance of engaged, participatory approaches to c4d.

Conclusion The institutional histories of C4D within UNICEF have provided nuanced insights into the historical and contextual factors underpinning tensions between looking good and doing good. While ostensibly the C4D section is mandated to use communication to do good, we have found various examples of C4D first needing to look good to key decision-makers: by using well known, visible and measurable approaches that fit with expectations; or by making visible the “results” from C4D. Particular communication outputs or products such as t-shirts, posters, billboards, and radio spots, appease program teams, government counterparts, and monitoring and evaluation teams. The pressure to perform C4D in ways that look good to these stakeholders is exacerbated by the lack of autonomy over budgets, which continues to place C4D in subordinate roles to the program sections. C4D is not alone in this, in that these challenges are also faced by other cross-cutting areas that similarly struggle in a development context structured around siloed sectors. However, when coupled with the often intangible and immeasurable nature of C4D, these factors lead to a somewhat contradictory situation where C4D is a growing section within UNICEF, while at the same time teams experience an underlying sense of precariousness due to the unproven and invisible quality of their contributions.

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While certain challenges remain, particularly in relation to negotiating funding for participatory approaches to communication, in several contexts a range of strategies and factors have combined to strengthen institutional support for approaches known to better contribute to doing good. This includes Country Office and Headquarters-driven efforts to promote deeper understanding of C4D, and deep integration of C4D into programing efforts. In fact, outside of UNICEF, in organisations where c4d has less institutional presence, the pressures to meet the expectations of fellow implementers may be heightened, as indicated by the account of quickly erecting billboards we described in the opening to this chapter. Further research properly diagnosing the constraints and enablers of c4d within institutions, understanding the ways in which power, structure and visibility plays a role in determining c4d approaches, and looking for models for how to positively respond to these challenges, is critical. These examinations must be historically and holistically located, and the institutional history mapping techniques presented offer one mechanism for doing so. This chapter has drawn from a research partnership concerned with building capacity for monitoring and evaluating C4D in UNICEF, which was itself a response to the need to improve c4d evaluation towards increased visibility through evidence of its value and contribution (Lennie and Tacchi 2013). In seeking to address those challenges, it became vital to understand the institutional contexts. These can shape the nature of C4D strategies, the budget available for evaluating, the demand for results, and tolerance for C4D strategies that are less amenable to traditional forms of monitoring and evaluation. It further reveals that key audiences for evaluations include internal program staff and local governments. In this context, evaluation can become an exercise in making a case for funding C4D components, making it more institutionally difficult to use learning-based, adaptive approaches. The solutions to this issue are complex. Generating evidence with a focus on intangible contributions rather than focusing exclusively on concrete attribution, and seeking adequate resources to do so, together with continued engagement with key decision-makers, will be critical to achieving and maintaining institutional recognition of c4d in large agencies and organisations.

Notes 1 2 3

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Upper-case is used here to indicate a distinction between “C4D” in UNICEF specifically (which has been used institution wide since 2008) and c4d as a practice in other organisations. An unpublished report confirms that these themes remain current through to the 13th Roundtable in 2014. We acknowledge that our UNICEF C4D collaborators disagree with certain aspects of our analysis. The analysis is ours alone. The chapter intends to provoke reflection on the ways organisational contexts influence c4d rather than present a definitive history of UNICEF C4D, and thus this chapter is not a reflection of the current realities and growth of C4D across UNICEF. The Evaluating Communication for Development: Supporting Adaptive and Accountable Development project (LP130100176), was a partnership between RMIT University,

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University of Hyderabad, UNICEF C4D New York, and the Eidos Insitute, with funding from the Australian Research Council. Participants have been anonymised and coded by the Country Office, e.g. IT_CO-1.1 refers to an interview with a participant based in the Country Office number 1, participant 1, etc. As previously noted, C4D Focal Points are technical specialists with some formal responsibilities for C4D.

References Balit, S. (2012). “Communication for development in good and difficult times: The FAO experience.” Glocal Times, 17–18. http://ojs.ub.gu.se/ojs/index.php/gt/article/ view/1294 Becker, S., Byrne, R., Ockwell, D., Ozor, N., Ely, A. and Urama, K. (2013). Adapting the Innovation Histories method for a workshop on Solar Home Systems uptake in Kenya. http:// steps-centre.org/wp-content/uploads/Innovation-Histories-briefing_S.pdf Douthwaite, B. and Ashby, J. (2005). “Innovation histories: A method for learning from experience.” ILAC Brief 5. https://cgspace.cgiar.org/bitstream/handle/10568/70176/ ILAC_Brief05_Histories.pdf ?sequence=1&isAllowed=y Green, M. (2011). “Calculating compassion: Accounting for some categorical practices in international development,” in Mosse, D. (ed.), Adventures in Aidland: The anthropology of professionals in international development (pp. 33–56), Berghahn Books, New York and Oxford. Gumucio-Dagron, A. (2008). “Vertical minds versus horizontal cultures: An overview of participatory process and experiences,” in Servaes, J. (ed.), Communication for development and social change, Sage Publications, London. Gumucio-Dagron, A. and Rodríguez, C. (2006). “Time to call things by their name.” Media Development 53(3): 9–16. Kindon, S., Pain, R. and Kesby, M. (eds.) (2007). Participatory action research approaches and methods: Connecting people, participation and place, Routledge, Abingdon, UK. Lennie, J. and Tacchi, J. (2013). Evaluating communication for development: A framework for social change, Routledge, Oxford. Manyozo, L. (2017). Communicating development with communities, Routledge, Abingdon. McCall, E. (2009). Overview of UN inter-agency round tables on communication for development: 11th UN inter-agency round table on communication for development, UNDP; World Bank: Washington, DC. Prasad, C. S., Hall, A. and Thummuru, L. (2006). “Engaging scientists through institutional histories.” ILAC Brief 14. www.betterevaluation.org/sites/default/files/ILAC_Brief14_ institutional.pdf Quarry, W. and Ramírez, R. (2009). Communication for another development: Listening before telling (Ebook ed.), Zed Books, London and New York. Thomas, P. and van de Fliert, E. (2014). Interrogating the theory and practice of communication for social change: The basis for a renewal, Palgrave MacMillan, Hampshire and New York. http:// doi.org/10.1057/9781137426314 Tufte, T. (2017). Communication and social change: A citizen perspective, Polity Press, Cambridge and Malden. UNICEF (2016). Communication for development: An evaluation of UNICEF’s capacity and action, New York.

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——— (2015). A global communication for development strategy guide for maternal, newborn and child health and nutrition programmes, New York. Waisbord, S. (2015). “Three challenges for communication and global social change.” Communication Theory 25(2): 144–65. doi:10.1111/comt.12068 ——— (2008). “The institutional challenges of participatory communication in international aid.” Social Identities 14(4): 505–22. http://doi.org/10.1080/13504630802212009

6 FOR CELEBRITY COMMUNICATION ABOUT DEVELOPMENT TO DO GOOD Reframing purpose and discourses1 Lauren Kogen

Introduction In recent years, there has been an uptick in the practice of celebrities engaging in global development efforts at the political level. This “celebrity diplomacy” (Cooper 2008) is often performed through the media, raising the question of the extent to which such work is performed, at least in part, as a public relations tool (i.e., “looking good”), in addition to serving as a mechanism for global development (“doing good”). Acts of celebrity diplomacy performed through the media are part of a wider genre of efforts to use communication to promote development (C4D). While the academic community has increasingly scrutinised C4D efforts, it has paid less attention to communication about development (CAD) (Scott 2014; Wilkins and Mody 2001), including the ways development efforts are explained to the general public through the media. Yet how and what the public learns about development merits investigation, because this becomes the foundation upon which they begin to formulate attitudes about international aid, about how development should be addressed, and about audience members’ just relationship with the suffering “other” – the supposed beneficiary of development work. Celebrity CAD is particularly powerful in terms of impact on the public because, in a world in which citizens of the Global North often pay little attention to far off places that are disconnected from their everyday lives, celebrities offer a potent opportunity to break through that wall. This is why using celebrities to publicise development work is a strategy favoured by development organisations. Celebrity CAD thus merits special attention. In this chapter, I look specifically at the mass communication efforts of two celebrities – Angelina Jolie and George Clooney – in order to analyse what their discourses might suggest to media audiences about the state of distant sufferers and of global development in general. I focus on these two because of their well-recognised star power, as well as their official

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roles as spokespersons for the United Nations. Jolie serves as Special Envoy for the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), focusing her work on the plight of child refugees around the world; George Clooney served as a United Nations Messenger of Peace from 2008 to 2014, focusing on UN peacekeeping missions around the world, and the on-going violence in Sudan and South Sudan in particular. Their roles qualify them as what Andrew Cooper (2008) calls “celebrity diplomats”, meaning they engage with issues of foreign suffering at a global policy level. Their status within the UN program and on the world stage places them at the forefront of efforts to “do good” via celebrity communication about development. Based on a critical discourse analysis of Jolie’s and Clooney’s television interviews between 2001 and 2017, I ultimately argue that their discourse reinforces particular stereotypes that place the US and by extension the Global North as the unquestionable “heroes” of development work, and development beneficiaries as the less developed, less capable, and less comprehensible civilisations forever in need of rescuing. While the celebrities seem well intentioned, and their involvement in international development work has the potential to promote positive change, the current form that their mass media appearances take also has the potential to perform significant harm with respect to reinforcing negative attitudes towards the suffering other. I use my study’s findings to develop a framework for more ethical celebrity CAD. If celebrity diplomats have the power to focus global attention on particular cases of distant suffering, they must also be held accountable for the impact of their discourse on both international audiences and distant victims. They must be aware that their words do more than increase awareness about a particular crisis; they influence how media audiences of the Global North understand the world around them – both the world and character of victims as well as their own role as privileged outsiders. These interpretations have a crucial role in guiding the future relationship between the Global North and South, and whether that relationship is one of mutual respect and support or one that reinforces a pre-existing status quo. The key principle of this proposed framework emphasises treating media audiences and distant sufferers as citizens capable of political thought and action (rather than simply treating media audiences as emotional fans, or distant sufferers as eternally dependent upon the Global North). This overarching recommendation includes: 1) bringing attention to on-the-ground development contexts, including the causes of suffering (rather than providing reductionist and dramatic descriptions of suffering); and 2) presenting individuals and civil society organisations (both in the Global North and South) as crucial to effecting change (rather than framing governments and international political entities as the sole engines of development).

With great power comes great responsibility: celebrity diplomacy as ethical landmine It is well accepted by both political institutions and the development world that celebrities hold great sway when it comes to influencing the public and, by extension, other political figures (Cooper 2008: Street 2004; Wheeler 2011). Indeed,

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celebrity activism in general, and celebrity diplomacy in particular, are nothing new (Richey 2016). The United Nations started its “Goodwill Ambassadors” program in 1962, recognizing early on the benefits of spreading their messages through wellrecognised spokespersons. What is less well articulated are the responsibilities that ought to accompany such a level of power. The extant literature presented here aims to demonstrate that the world of celebrity diplomacy presents several ethical dilemmas when it comes to discourse aimed at the general public. A simplistic view that any attention celebrities can bring to distant suffering is beneficial must be tempered by evidence that such attention can cause unforeseen side effects.

The power of celebrities in international diplomacy Part of celebrities’ power to influence audiences stems from the tendency of publics to see them as cultural symbols. Marshall (1997, 243) argues that celebrities embody an articulation of culture in the public sphere, and therefore that publics grant them the status of “proxy” representative of public opinion. In this way, celebrities make it easier for disengaged publics to latch onto political ideas. Fans of a particular celebrity may assume that whatever their preferred celebrity stands for, on any cultural or political topic, is the appropriate position to take, saving them the time and effort of analyzing the situation themselves. Turner (2004) similarly argues that such heuristics allow audiences a means of understanding and synthesizing the ever-changing world around them, and Smith (The Norman Lear Center 2009) adds that groups enthusiastically support celebrities they feel represent their political ideologies, creating a powerful link between celebrities and the public via the public sphere. In an international policy context, these phenomena are bound to be even more pronounced. Foreign policy is complex, and often far removed from the everyday lives of media audiences. It involves topics that publics may not wish to, or be able to, fully comprehend. Celebrity diplomats therefore serve as guides, leading the public towards particular political attitudes and courses of action when they lack the ability to adequately assess the situation themselves. It is for this very reason that politicians, activists, and NGOs seek celebrities to publicly support them and speak on their behalves. Television interviews with Jolie and Clooney have resulted in hundreds of thousands of dollars in donations to the UN (Boustany 2007), and international NGOs often state that attaining donations without celebrity endorsements is difficult (Cottle and Nolan 2007). In the set of interviews analysed here, for example, one Fox News Sunday host states he is “embarrassed” to say they would not have covered a story on South Sudan if George Clooney were not a part of it (Fox News Sunday 2012) and a CNN Newsroom anchor admits that they only covered South Sudan “because of George” (CNN Newsroom 2016). This power to set the agenda when it comes to development discourse is what poses particular ethical dilemmas. These can be roughly divided into two main

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concerns: reductionist interpretations of development challenges and the promotion of long-standing stereotypes regarding the global other. These are each outlined below.

Reductionist representations of development challenges and solutions While celebrity communication about development can have obvious benefits, such as fundraising, it also means that development challenges tend to be presented in simplistic, reductionist terms. When audiences use celebrity stances as mental shortcuts in foreign policy decision-making, this means they do not seek or receive in-depth analyses of causes and solutions to development problems, but rather trust these public figures to know what is best. Several scholars have argued that this results in celebrities distorting foreign policy decisions, for example by rallying the public around “false choices” (West and Orman 2003, 113) and “one-dimensional” recommendations (Dieter and Kumar 2008, 261). West and Orman (2003) argue that this occurs because celebrities are often instinctually “endowed with expertise” despite a lack of political knowledge on complex topics. Sharon Stone, for example, was praised for raising US$1 million for mosquito nets in five minutes at the 2005 World Economic Forum, during a panel on malaria (Holguin 2005). She was inspired by the panel, and publicly put others in the room on the spot, urging them to donate money specifically for mosquito nets. While the move was well intentioned, Stone likely did not understand the complexity of the malaria problem, the fact that increasing the number of mosquito nets available was probably not an effective solution, or that mosquito nets are often not used for their intended purposes (Gettleman 2015). Easy solutions to development challenges are ideal media fodder, but do not adequately capture the requirements necessary to produce effective and lasting social change. Attention to these simplistic choices, rather than to the complex environments surrounding cases of distant suffering, diverts focus, and funding, away from where it is most needed. Furthermore, Kellner (2003) argues that celebrity diplomacy efforts such as Stone’s have devolved into mere spectacle: media-friendly appearances that make celebrities look good, but do little to promote useful action. Similarly, Chouliaraki (2013, 3) argues that this celebrity spectacle has contributed to an age of “posthumanitarianism” in which humanitarianism becomes about the ‘self ’ rather than the ‘other’, in which “doing good to others” is more about how it makes the dogooder look and feel rather than about addressing our common humanity through actions that “[ask] nothing back” from development beneficiaries. Celebrity humanitarianism exacerbates this trend, argues Chouliaraki, when it shifts the focus of development efforts onto celebrities and their publics rather than the victims of distant suffering. For example, when Angelina Jolie cries during interviews about her humanitarian work, this may “ultimately reproduce a narcissistic solidarity obsessed with our own emotions rather than oriented toward action on suffering

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others” (2013, 79), and thus allow audiences to escape the hard work of properly understanding what strategies might improve the lives of those suffering.

Different celebrities, same stereotypes Celebrity communication about development also has the potential to impact the attitudes of publics in the Global North towards people in the developing world. The extant literature suggests two potential concerns relevant here. The first relates to a tendency by the media to present developing nations as ‘other’, or different from the rest of the world. Much scholarship has focused on the idea that developing regions, in particular Africa, are only covered by Western news outlets when there is “bad news” to report such as war or famine (Chang, Shoemaker, and Brendlinger 1987), resulting in an impression of Africa as “AIDSridden”, “weird”, and “falling apart” (Fair 1993, 5). Second, some scholarship addresses the ways in which the media present the countries of the Global North as saviors and heroes to the Global South, despite the harmful and lasting effects of colonisation and decolonisation, and the international policies which have maintained and reinforced inequalities between the haves and have-nots. Said (1993, 55) argues that instead of acknowledging this, the US media in particular convey a sort of “moralistic triumphalism” which makes “the average American feel that it is up to ‘us’ to right the wrongs of the world, and the devil with contradictions and inconsistencies”. Others have argued that such rhetoric, when it is used by public officials, works at a fundamental level by suggesting the United States holds a key role in global policing efforts, thereby laying the psychological groundwork for the justification of more palpable acts of imperialism (Hardt and Negri 2000). These critiques have not typically been tied to celebrity appearances, but rather to development theory more broadly. They are relevant here because, if such tropes persist within common celebrity discourse, they are especially likely to reinforce long-established assumptions that those in the Global North are politically and intellectually superior to distant sufferers. With this in mind, the present study examines how Jolie and Clooney “teach” audiences to think about the world of the other, and how to understand that world in relation to their own political environment.

Method Current patterns of spoken and written discourse embedded in the media have solidified over time, and are thus seen as natural, making the underlying assumptions within them difficult to tease out. Critical discourse analysis (CDA) is a method for identifying such patterns. CDA assumes that a large part of how we understand the world develops through the imperceptible ways the media “construct” reality (Kraidy 2009, 346). CDA attempts to deconstruct this reality by looking at representations of social inequality – either how inequalities are presented through text

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or how they might arise from particular uses of text if they become accepted and normalised (Van Dijk 1993). The sample analysed here includes television interviews only, given that the aim was to evaluate how celebrities construct meaning for mass, mainstream audiences. Transcripts of American television interviews with these celebrities from January 2001 (the first year that both celebrities were speaking publicly on these issues) to May 2017 (the most recent data available at the time of the analysis) were gathered using a LexisNexis search. I include the period leading up to their UN appointments, as both celebrities spoke about these issues widely beforehand, and after, in the case of Clooney, as he continues to embrace his role as celebrity speaker on the crises in Sudan and South Sudan. 18 interviews with Angelina Jolie and 31 interviews with George Clooney were found,2 and they were all used in the analysis. Although this study was conducted within the US media, the analysis and findings apply to the larger Global North – those nations that tend to be the designers and suppliers of international aid interventions, rather than the recipients of aid. Indeed, Jolie and Clooney are American stars, but they were chosen by the UN specifically because of their universal appeal, and the recognition that the willingness of citizens to turn to celebrities as symbols of political righteousness is a global phenomenon. The primary questions addressed in the CDA are whether and how Jolie and Clooney embed assumptions about the global other, specifically with respect to whether global sufferers are presented as inferior or unequal to those in the Global North, and what can be done by constituencies in the Global North to ameliorate suffering. The aim of the analysis is to better understand how celebrity discourse might thus influence television audience’s attitudes towards and assumptions about the global other, as well as how it might shape the nature of the relationship between the Global North and South.

Discourses of inequality and inefficacy: discussion of findings A close analysis of the interview transcripts reveals the celebrities’ selective construction of the relationship between citizens of the Global North (usually of the United States) and the global other. Two recurring patterns were particularly salient – one pertaining to how the celebrities define the power relationship between the Global North and victims in the Global South, and one pertaining to how they define the viewers’ potential political engagement with the other: 1)

2)

Discourse of Inequality entrenches historical narratives regarding the global other, including presenting the global other as child, as eternal victim and/or as intellectually and politically underdeveloped; as well as narratives regarding the United States or other countries of the Global North as parent, eternal hero, or savior. Discourse of Inefficacy suggests that political engagement is unproductive or excludes practical pathways to change, thus promoting a message of hopelessness.

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The first of these patterns corresponds to an old and on-going global discourse which frames nations of the Global South as “other”, as described in the literature review (Chang, Shoemaker, and Brendlinger 1987; Fair 1993), but which has not been applied to discourse surrounding celebrity communication about development. The second, emerging from attention paid to how the information implies a “natural” or assumed state of affairs between the Global North and South, suggests that celebrity diplomats may be falling painfully short in their presumed role as advocates for change, and indeed, perhaps, exacerbating the global political status quo.

Discourse of inequality: heroes and helpless victims Repeatedly in these interviews, the celebrities portrayed the relationship between the Global North and South as one of helper and helpless. Northern countries were never portrayed as having any role in causing the crises, and were almost always portrayed as able to fix them (though exactly how was often left unstated). For example, in an interview on Late Edition with Wolf Blitzer (2008), Clooney observed that: It’s interesting how quickly things aren’t hopeless when people, a group of people, American citizens, European citizens, suddenly stand up and say, wait a minute, let’s take a look at this. Jolie similarly argues that “we are missing a lot of opportunities to do a lot of the good that America is used to doing, has a history of doing” (Anderson Cooper 360 2006). In these instances and others, Clooney and Jolie frame the countries of the Global North as best placed to help, and as having a reputation for helping. This instantiation of Said’s “moralistic triumphalism” (1993, 55) obscures the role of the Global North in the circumstances leading up to suffering and the policies that reinforce those conditions. The goal of both celebrities seems to be to make audiences proud of their country, but this construction implies that the United States and others have almost always supported the global poor, and are usually successful in their attempts to do so. By obscuring the role of the Global North in the conditions that foster suffering, celebrities interfere with the ability of media audiences to adequately understand their own role in global poverty and development. Equally problematic, these descriptions of the US as savior and guardian are often paired with a description of victims as helpless, less knowledgeable, and more child-like. In many cases the problem is not so much what the celebrities say about these victims, but what they do not say. In presenting the innocence of victims, there is a tendency to speak about the global other using adjectives that are almost always associated with basic, primal instincts and emotions: despair, hope, bravery, beauty, etc. There is little to no acknowledgement of the intellectual or political capabilities of those being helped. For example, when Jolie states that the United States needs to “be there to really support them at that time, to help them to understand how better to govern”

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(Anderson Cooper 360 2006), to “teach them about law; teach them about having their own health care; teach them about ourselves; teach them about the world” (Anderson Cooper 360 2009) or to “help them build their civil society… their schools, everything” (Amanpour 2010), she explicitly frames the US as more knowledgeable than these countries, and implicitly suggests that it is, at least in part, this intellectual inferiority that is holding developing nations back. If only these countries knew about the kinds of systems the United States and others had in place, they would surely recognise them as superior and adopt them post-haste. This frame suggests a hierarchical relationship of Northern superiority and Southern inferiority, one disconnected from structural factors like international trade policies, debt obligations, political institutions, and the political and economic motivations of both domestic and international players. Jolie did, on four of the occasions under analysis, ascribe a minimal level of agency to sufferers. For example, she told the story of a man in Myanmar teaching others how to farm more efficiently (Anderson Cooper 360 2007), and discussed the need to work with local lawyers to prosecute rape cases in the DRC (Amanpour 2014). There were no similar examples given by Clooney. In general, however, these were fleeting references, and for the most part victims were described as in need of guidance from outsiders. Neither Clooney nor Jolie make significant attempts to provide examples of individuals or organisations from the Global South creating change. This is problematic if it leads audiences to believe that the countries of the North are victims’ only possible salvation, as it creates a sense that these groups are inferior and do not have their own ideas about, or make efforts towards, development. This is not to say that descriptions of victims were not complimentary. Indeed, Jolie and Clooney go out of their way to emphasise the positive characteristics of victims. In an interview with CNN reporter Christiane Amanpour (Amanpour 2010), Jolie notes that Haitians: are so dignified. They’re calm. They’re helping themselves. They inspire me. I see many children with amputations who are smiling and strong and talking about their future. You realize that these people have suffered so much for so long, that, in fact, they are so resilient. Likewise, Clooney states that the Southern Sudanese are “like everybody else. They want to… raise their children in peace. They want to have a job. They want to go to work. They want to, you know, have families” (Larry King Live 2010). The emphasis on the internal character of these victims, however, while complimentary, suggests that their engagement with problems is limited to their strong resolve and commitment to muscle through the tough times. Describing victims as people “like everybody else” may have the effect of making audiences feel that distant sufferers are worthy of compassion. Indeed, this may well be why Jolie and Clooney feel this message is important. Yet, victims are only “like everybody else” in their most basic, primal characteristics, not in their intellectual or political pursuits regarding development.

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Jolie’s choice to describe victims as innocent, resilient, etc., parallels her frequent discussions of her own children in the media. Jolie’s public persona focuses to a large extent on her family, and this motherhood persona extends as well into her humanitarian work (Wilkins 2016), with maternal references pervading her speech. In her interviews, notions of Jolie as nurturer, protector, mother of her own children, mother to her victims, and the United States as parental guardian to the world, fluidly overlap. When she tells audiences that her children “have come from countries that were in conflict with each other, a son who’s Cambodian, a son who’s Vietnamese” and that they “have lots of discussions… about all these things” she makes it quite clear that her own efforts to nurture her children parallel her diplomatic efforts to protect millions more like them. This notion of parenthood manifests in her frequent calls for the US to “protect” victims around the world. In an interview with CNN anchor Anderson Cooper (Anderson Cooper 360 2006), she states that the victims she works with: don’t have the protection of their own country. They’re somewhere uprooted, without any protection, with their families, relying on somebody to open their doors for someplace for them to lay their head down or get some food or something. While such descriptions may apply to some victims, repeated suggestions that those suffering are simply waiting for someone to give them food and shelter reinforces the idea that the relationship between the Global North and South is one of helpless victim and generous benefactor. It further suggests that there is no change to this relationship in sight – that these attributes are ahistorical and inherent, unbound by circumstance. Jolie and Clooney would, perhaps, argue that presenting the global other as innocent and desperate is more likely to promote sympathy among media audiences, and therefore more likely to garner reaction. Indeed, there is some evidence in the literature that describing the sorry state of victims, and de-emphasizing facts and context, does promote greater sympathy and greater willingness to “help” (Small, Loewenstein, and Slovic 2007). At the same time, however, recent research indicates that informing audiences about practical solutions to development problems is just as effective in promoting action (Kogen and Dilliplane 2017). Furthermore, repeated descriptions of desperation may reduce willingness to help in the long-term if such depictions create a sense that the situation is hopeless and that these problems will never end. This discourse of inefficacy is the subject of the next section.

Discourse of inefficacy Previous scholars have argued that the public often appears indifferent to media representations of suffering because they simply do not know what to do about it, which leads to a feeling of powerlessness (Hoijer 2004; Kogen 2009). Therefore, one obvious potential that celebrities have is to use their public platforms to break

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through this feeling of powerlessness by giving audiences information they can use to think about how to ameliorate crises. On the other hand, repetitive media discourse that frames suffering as forever escalating, inevitable and ahistorical, denies audience members the ability to understand the problem, and indeed may send the message that permanent change is unlikely. Thus, one aim of the analysis was to evaluate whether these celebrities inform audiences about how they might help, either through support of particular policies or through individual action. The analysis reveals that both Clooney and Jolie fall short in this regard. When CNN medical correspondent Sanjay Gupta asks Jolie whether she is optimistic about the future of Pakistan, for example, and she responds by saying that “we have no choice but to be optimistic and to have hope. I think, without that, we’re just lost and things deteriorate”, this represents a typical type of discourse that suggests little belief that long-term change is possible. In the sample overall, there were few instances in which Jolie or Clooney clearly stated what could practically be done to help distant sufferers, and thus to produce change. Jolie and Clooney did imply, in about half of their interviews, that the United States as well as other countries ought to do something, but what exactly should be done was typically unclear. Given their high-level positions within the UN, it may seem odd that they do not explicitly advocate particular plans of action, but as we will see shortly, neither Jolie nor Clooney see this as their role. In more recent interviews, Clooney, far more often than Jolie, does discuss particular policy recommendations regarding economic sanctions against Sudan and diplomacy efforts towards China. After 2011, Clooney mentions these specific policies in seven of nine interviews indicating, perhaps, an increased effort to bring long-term policy change into the media spotlight. However, policy recommendations in two of these interviews were undermined by his repeated suggestions that the Obama administration was already adequately responding to policy needs (Fareed Zakaria 2011; Fox News Sunday 2016). When Fox News Sunday anchor Chris Wallace asked Clooney what President Obama should do, for example, he stated only that: “We’re not going to him and saying, ‘Surprise.’ This is something they deal with, you know, every single day they have a conversation about it” (Fox News Sunday 2016). Such responses raise the question of what policy, if any, Clooney is advocating. In this case it is left to the broadcaster to explain to the audience, via voiceover (presumably via information gathered off screen before or after the interview), that Clooney wants “the US and other countries” to impose economic sanctions on Sudan. Avoidance of clear responses to television interviewers’ questions about policy suggests that Clooney is working hard behind the scenes, but that he does not feel that the details of this work are appropriate television fare, or think that viewers would have any interest in such information or have any role to play in promoting sound policy decisions. This raises once again the question of the purpose of his appearing on television aside from his own publicity. When it came to individual actions by television viewers, Jolie and Clooney seemed loathe to mention what could be done, even when asked directly by

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interviewers. There were five instances in the analysis in which the interviewer directly asked what audience members could do, and in no case did either celebrity provide a straightforward answer. In one instance, Clooney did say that audience members could call their congressmen, but failed to mention particular policies that individuals might mention or support: Each little person making that effort and making those calls to their senators, to their congressmen… this is one of those moments where… your voice can truly make a huge difference in this. Connect the World 2010 Such responses provide little guidance to audience viewers moved by the celebrities’ stories of suffering. Overall, Jolie’s rhetoric suggests a lack of awareness of what individuals can do, while Clooney’s suggests doubt that anyone other than governments can accomplish anything useful. Indeed, Clooney more or less asserts that his role is not to tell the public what course of action to take. Instead, his purpose when appearing in front of television audiences is simply to “shine a light” on atrocities occurring in other parts of the world: My asking others to get involved I don’t think would make much of a difference. I think that people are involved.… Let me tell you: you go to… a camp [in South Sudan] that’s been set up with some internally displaced people, and there sits a 22-year-old girl… from Kansas, who came there because she worked in a mission. And the minute you see that… it gives you nothing but hope in the youth of America. Larry King Live 2010 Clooney suggests here not only that his role is not to address individual action but: 1) that “it [wouldn’t] make much of a difference” if he did; and 2) that the public is already doing enough. On one occasion, on Larry King Live (2010), Clooney even seems unfamiliar with the individual actions promoted on the very website he was supposedly promoting. King suggests that Americans have interests at home, not in Africa, and Clooney responds by saying: “We’re e-mailing and Twittering and Facebooking. Write an e-mail to the White House saying, ‘Please do everything you can diplomatically’”. John Prendergast, co-founder of the Enough project – an anti-genocide organisation – and a guest along with Clooney, has to jump in to add: “We have made it easy for people. SudanActionNow.org, just sign on there. You find a form. You can customise an e-mail and send it straight to the White House, literally in and out in two minutes”. Similarly, during an interview with then Today show co-host Ann Curry (Today 2010), Curry has to tell the audience the name of the SudanActionNow website, because Clooney fails to do so. That Clooney does not see his role as addressing individual action raises the question of what function “raising awareness” among millions of viewers serves.

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Clooney’s rhetoric suggests that he firmly believes that his role is simply to “shine a light on an area that needs it” (Larry King Live 2010) and that by doing so, governments will receive support and things will change: “We are going and standing where people are shooting rockets at us… and that helps get attention to the story that we are trying to tell” (Fox News Sunday 2012). His implicit assumption, then, is that if media audiences know about these issues, no matter what exactly they “know” about them, this will produce positive results, though he is unclear about how A leads to B. He elsewhere similarly states that: “If 150 million people know [Kony’s] name now, that can only be good.… The first power we have is knowledge” (Fareed Zakaria 2012). Clooney’s assumption that simply spreading awareness of atrocities “can only be good” is questionable, for the reasons elaborated thus far. Simple knowledge about distant suffering may promote sympathy, but on its own: 1) is insufficient to equip audiences with the knowledge of how to create sustainable change; and 2) may reinforce ideologies of inequality between the Global North and South. While Clooney seems almost dismissive of the role of individuals in promoting positive change, Jolie seems to not have considered the question in much detail. When she is asked directly by interviewers what individuals can do, her responses are flippant and vague. In one instance, CNN anchor Anderson Cooper (Anderson Cooper 360 2006) asked Jolie what audiences can do when “it becomes this blur of sort of endless suffering in Africa… and… people sort of throw up their hands”. Jolie answers: “Well, I think to acknowledge that and say, yes, it is another – we understand that”. Jolie provides equally opaque responses to CNN reporter Christiane Amanpour (Amanpour 2010). When Amanpour poses to Jolie, following her post-earthquake trip to Haiti, that Americans “have a very short term look at things like this” and asks what can be done in the long-term to pull Haiti out of its poverty trap, Jolie responds by saying that: I think… it is our responsibility – both of ours – to try to continue to do stories.… I often wonder if the media can handle more than one conflict at a time. I think the American people can. I think the more we continue to give them information and remind them that it’s important. They are a very feeling people, they are a very understanding people, and it’s not their lack of interest, it’s our lack of explaining why it’s important sometimes. It seems unclear however, even to Jolie herself, how she can better explain “why it’s important” or what can be done. She offers no response to how Haiti might escape “its poverty trap”. When Amanpour presses on this, asking specifically what Jolie can do, through her status as a celebrity, Jolie states: I do feel… passionate about Haiti and the place and the people, and I’ll continue to come back and I’ll continue to express what I’m learning.…

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I’ve been spending the last few days really just trying to gain information and put the pieces together myself and learn about best practices. And when I think I know what they are… I’ll certainly express them as strongly as I can to the people I’m in contact with. Here, Jolie admits that she is not sufficiently knowledgeable to prescribe solutions. While this is honest and fair, it raises the question of why she has chosen to speak to the public about the topic before she is prepared to do so. Furthermore, no evidence was found in the data that Jolie ever re-appeared in the media to clarify her stance on what is needed in Haiti, therefore leaving the public with the impression that no efficacious solutions are available. Celebrities’ inability to articulate to the public what can actually be done constructs the long-term problem as hopeless. When interviewers ask pointed questions about what their audience members can do, this suggests that they believe their audience wants to help, and desires to know what they, as individuals, perhaps as voting citizens, can do. Indeed, suffering presented in the media implicitly urges audiences to consider what can be done to alleviate it (Kyriakidou 2015, 217), and it is this emotion that these celebrities seem to be intentionally eliciting in their speech. In some cases, as mentioned above, the interviewers even insert the information on how to help when these celebrities do not, in the interests of their audience members. For Jolie and Clooney to offer an image of atrocities, to speak as experts, and then hesitate when asked what can be done to help, borders on irresponsible. The underlying message can easily be interpreted to be that there are no answers, or that the celebrity does not believe that the public has any role themselves in creating change.

A framework for ethical celebrity communication about development To say that a celebrity’s role is simply to “raise awareness” is to deny the consequences that particular constructions of awareness-raising may have. As the analysis and literature review above demonstrate, this includes providing inadequate information on causes and solutions to suffering (promoting a discourse of inefficacy) as well as reinforcing stereotypes about the global other (promoting a discourse of inequality). These two effects are mutually reinforcing: Not saying what audience members can do suggests that nothing can be done, and that distant sufferers are helpless, hopeless, and backward, which thus reinforces on-going status quo inequalities and assumptions about the “natural” order of things in a globalised world. Based on the preceding analysis, celebrity advocates must be more thoughtful about the purpose of speaking publicly about human suffering and what they would hope audiences do with the information provided. Celebrities can accomplish this by treating audiences and victims as citizens capable of political thought and action. There are at least two distinct ways in which celebrities could modify their discourse to this end: 1) addressing the causes and context of suffering; and 2) addressing potential solutions.

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Address the causes and context of suffering Jolie and Clooney rarely discuss the political and economic factors exacerbating humanitarian suffering, instead focusing more on dramatic descriptions of suffering removed from their wider context. The choice to exclude this information implicitly suggests that the public is not suited to understand the political and economic factors necessary to create positive change. Even more, descriptions of these victims as innocent and child-like may suggest that the victims themselves and their lack of knowledge are a large part of the problem. If these celebrities brought history and political, economic, and social context into their speech, this would go a long way towards helping audiences understand the problem and ways to address it. When Clooney explains that state corruption has led to poverty among the South Sudanese, for example, this helps viewers comprehend the purpose and potential impacts of his Satellite Sentinel project, which records the activities of Sudanese politicians through satellite cameras. But when celebrities discuss how individuals on the ground must change – e.g. when Jolie talks about helping people learn – there is an embedded implication that problems lie with the victims themselves, not with the wider institutions and contexts in which they find themselves. Such rhetoric is reminiscent of 1960s development efforts, in which citizens of poor countries were seen as backward, underdeveloped, stubborn, and unwilling to modernise (Thomas 2008). There is a lack of recognition that it is often political institutions and policies within these countries (many of which are supported by the Global North) that prevent citizens from leading more productive lives.

Address solutions to suffering, including the role of individuals and non-governmental organisations If celebrity diplomats feel it is important to communicate about development to publics, it would seem to suggest that they feel the public has a role to play. This should be explicitly addressed in their speech. To do otherwise – to simply make audiences “aware” of suffering – suggests that the only role of the public is to express sympathy for distant victims. Sympathy, of course, has the potential to develop into concrete action, but on its own it is unlikely to do anything more than support short-term handouts or motivate charitable donations. It also suggests the limited efficacy of the beneficiaries of aid. There is increasing recognition among development scholars that individuals living in poverty are sources for understanding how to solve problems, much more so than sources of the problems themselves (Quarry and Ramírez 2009), yet at no point in these interviews did either Jolie or Clooney suggest that they or the UN agencies that they represent had actually spoken to sufferers on the ground and asked what they believed was needed to effect change. While civil society in the Global South is admittedly weaker than in more industrialised parts of the world (limited to a large extent by domestic institutional forces), this does not mean that there are not local groups

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with a strong stance on how best to create change in their own countries. Much work on transnational civil society and on participatory development interventions focuses precisely on how effective these local actors can be (e.g., Khagram 2000; Quarry and Ramírez 2009). Providing this information would not only alter the status quo discourse that silences the global other and inherently places the Global North above the Global South, but would allow Northern audiences to better understand development issues and decide for themselves what kinds of efforts they want to support. Celebrities’ adherence, to the extent possible, to the above framework would allow celebrities to address audiences and distant sufferers as politically capable global citizens. Without this shift, their media appearances are more akin to “spectacles” in the sense described by Kellner (2003), meant to provide moving, horrifying, passionate, or emotional moments for the audience (and positive publicity for the celebrity), but which only allow for superficial engagement with the topic, limiting the viewer’s experience to an emotional moment, rather than an action-oriented one.

Conclusion When they address the public on television, celebrity diplomats should have a clear and articulated reason for doing so if they wish their appearances to accomplish anything more than garner publicity. I have argued that these celebrity diplomats do harm to the global other when they: 1) entrench historical narratives of the other as child, as victim, and as politically underdeveloped, and of the United States as savior and hero; and 2) fail to tell audiences how they themselves can engage politically with the global other. Denying audiences the information they need to become politically engaged distances the viewer from the global other. It allows audiences to ignore their everyday relationship with the distant sufferer and the policies, practices, assumptions and attitudes that exacerbate poverty and global inequality. Future work on celebrity communication about development and distant suffering should address how the ethical framework proposed above can become institutionalised and accepted as a norm within CAD. Discourse analyses of celebrities or other well-known political figures that do address audiences and sufferers as suggested here would contribute to this conversation. Additionally, interviews with figures such as Jolie and Clooney regarding their reaction to this framework would both provide insight on its practicality as well as begin to move it from the realm of theory to one of practice.

Notes 1

This chapter is an updated version of Kogen, L. (2015), “For the Public Good or Just Good Publicity? Celebrities and Humanitarianism.” Mass Communication and Society, © The Association for Education in Journalism & Mass Communication, reprinted by permission of Taylor & Francis Ltd., www.tandfonline.com, on behalf of The Association for Education in Journalism & Mass Communication, www.aejmc.org.

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A search of network and cable news transcripts was conducted with the following keywords: “interview w/5 (“Angelina Jolie” or “George Clooney”)”. Any transcript that was an excerpt or duplicate of another interview, did not reference their diplomatic work, or included less than 60 words from the celebrity, was omitted from analysis.

References Amanpour (2014, June 11). [Television broadcast] Cable News Network, 11 June 2014. ——— (2010). [Television broadcast] Cable News Network, 12 February 2010. Anderson Cooper 360 (2009). [Television broadcast] Cable News Network, 19 June 2009. ——— (2007). [Television broadcast] Cable News Network, 20 June 2007. ——— (2006). [Television broadcast] Cable News Network, 20 June 2006. Boustany, N. (2007). “Hollywood stars find an audience for social causes.” The Washington Post, 1, 10 June. Chang, T., Shoemaker, P. J. and Brendlinger, N. (1987). “Determinants of international news coverage in the U.S. media.” Communication Research 14(4): 396–414. Chouliaraki, L. (2013). The ironic spectator: Solidarity in the age of post-humanitarianism, Polity, Cambridge. CNN Newsroom (2016). [Television broadcast] Cable News Network, 13 September 2016. Connect the World (2010). [Television Broadcast] Cable News Network, 29 December 2010. Cooper, A. F. (2008). Celebrity diplomacy, Paradigm, Boulder, CO. Cottle, S. and Nolan, D. (2007). “Global humanitarianism and the changing aid-media field: ‘Everyone was dying for footage’.” Journalism Studies 8(6): 862–78. Dieter, H. and Kumar, R. (2008). “The downside of celebrity diplomacy: The neglected complexity of development.” Global Governance 14: 259–64. Fair, J. E. (1993). “War, famine and poverty: Race in the construction of Africa’s media image.” Journal of Communication Inquiry 17(2): 5–22. Fareed Zakaria (2012). [Television broadcast] Cable News Network, 18 March 2012. ——— (2011). [Television broadcast] Cable News Network, 9 January 2011. Fox News Sunday (2016). [Television broadcast] Fox News Network, 18 September 2016. ——— (2012). [Television broadcast] Fox News Network, 18 March 2012. Gettleman, J. (2015). “Meant to keep malaria out, mosquito nets are used to haul fish in.” New York Times, 24 January 2015. https://mobile.nytimes.com Hardt, M. and Negri, A. (2000). Empire, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA. Hoijer, B. (2004). “The discourse of global compassion: The audience and media reporting of human suffering.” Media, Culture & Society 26(4): 513–31. Holguin, J. (2005). “Sharon Stone raises $1M in 5 min,” 28 January 2005. https://CBSNews. com Kellner, D. (2003). Media spectacle, Routledge, London. Khagram, S. (2000). “Toward democratic governance for sustainable development: Transnational civil society,” in Florini, A. M. (ed.), The third force: The rise of transnational civil society (pp. 83–114), Carnegie Endowment of International Peace, Washington, DC. Kogen, L. (2009). “Why the message should matter: Genocide and the ethics of global journalism in the mediapolis.” Journal of International Communication 15(2): 62–78. Kogen, L. and Dilliplane, S. (2017). “How media portrayals of suffering influence willingness to help: The role of solvability frames.” Journal of Media Psychology. Advance online publication. Kraidy, M. (2009). “Reality television, gender, and authenticity in Saudi Arabia.” Journal of Communication 59(2): 345–66. Kyriakidou, M. (2015). “Media witnessing: Exploring the audience of distant suffering.” Media, Culture & Society 37(2): 215–31.

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Larry King Live (2010). [Television broadcast] Cable News Network, 16 October 2010. Late Edition with Wolf Blitzer (2008). [Television broadcast] Cable News Network, 6 July 2008. Marshall, D. (1997). Celebrity and power: Fame in contemporary culture, University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis. The Norman Lear Center (2009). “Celebrity diplomacy: The effectiveness and value of celebrity diplomacy.” www.learcenter.org/pdf/celebritydiplomacy.pdf Quarry, W. and Ramírez, R. (2009). Communication for another development: Listening before telling, Zed Books, New York. Richey, L. (2016). Celebrity humanitarianism and North-South relations: Politics, place and power, Routledge, London and New York. Said, E. (1993). Culture and imperialism, Knopf, New York. Scott, M. (2014). Media and development: Development matters, Zed Books, London and New York. Small, D. A., Loewenstein, G. and Slovic, P. (2007). “Sympathy and callousness: The impact of deliberative thought on donations to identifiable and statistical victims.” Organizational Behavior and Human Decision Processes 102: 143–53. Street, J. (2004). “Celebrity politicians: Popular culture and political representation.” British Journal of Politics & International Relations 6(4): 435–52. Thomas, P. (2008). “Communication and the persistence of poverty: The need for a return to basics,” in Servaes, J. (ed.), Communication for development and social change (pp. 31–44), Sage Publications, New Delhi. Today (2010). [Television broadcast] NBC, 12 October 2010. Turner, G. (2004). Understanding celebrity, Thousand Oaks, London. Van Dijk, T. A. (1993). “Principles of critical discourse analysis.” Discourse & Society 4(2): 249–83. West, D. M. and Orman, J. (2003). Celebrity politics, Pearson Education, Saddle River, NJ. Wheeler, M. (2011). “Celebrity diplomacy: United Nations’ goodwill ambassadors and messengers of peace.” Celebrity Studies 2(1): 6–18. Wilkins, K. G. (2016). Communicating gender and advocating accountability in global development, Palgrave MacMillan, London. Wilkins, K. G. and Mody, B. (2001). “Reshaping development communication: Developing communication and communicating development.” Communication Theory 11(4): 385–96.

7 COMMUNICATION AND EVALUATION Can a decision-making hybrid reframe an age-old dichotomy? Ricardo Ramírez and Wendy Quarry

Introduction The Communication for Development community has long emphasised the dichotomy between participatory communication and a more top-down information/ public relations oriented approach, but has done little in terms of attempting to reconcile them. As practitioners we have worked both together and individually as communication consultants or staff for various development agencies, NGOs and governments. Throughout our combined 40 years of experience we definitely placed ourselves squarely in the participatory camp trying to “fight that fight”. While we firmly understand that both participation and public relations belong on a spectrum of different functions and uses for communication, we know now that we too have been guilty of contributing to this divide. Our book Communication for another development, Listening before telling (Quarry and Ramírez 2009) was essentially devoted to this theme. We provided story after story to illustrate the importance of the participatory approach, and basically dismissed the notion of corporate communication with one line. As this chapter will show, the more recent work we have been doing with evaluation and communication has helped us see things differently. The divide has a history. At the 6th United Nations Inter-Agency Roundtable on Communication for Development held in Rome (1996), a statement clearly outlining the importance of participatory communication came out of the proceedings (McCall 2009). The statement seemed to trigger a level of dissent between those academics and practitioners that favoured a full on participatory communication approach versus others who supported a more directive, information giving, behavioural change approach to communication. While in our 2009 book our position was that good development was based on what we termed “good” communication, meaning dialogical and participatory communication, it is our view now that we need both. Many knew that already, but those of us concerned with promoting a

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more participatory form of communication or communication for social change eschewed the more unidirectional public relations approach seeing it almost entirely in a negative light. The reality is that communication covers a wide spectrum of different communication functions depending on purposes or needs, moving from public relations to information to participation. That said, then as now, the word “communication” consistently conjures up for most people the idea of public relations, branding and messaging. The persistence of this interpretation of the word and the profession may have several reasons: that the bulk of jobs for communication graduates lies in the corporate, public relations world; that graduates from universities that teach communication as a discipline have largely been taught to focus on the sender/receiver model (Calvelo Ríos 2017); and the imperative to “promote in order to survive”, i.e. you need to find a way to brand work so that it will stand out from the crowd amidst a sea of competing forces. In development cooperation, most decision-makers, whether they are in large bilateral or multi-lateral organisations or in the governments they are meant to serve, simply do not want participation (Quarry 2006). They may say they do or give lip service to the notion, but in reality, listening to what people want is messy and takes time and likely won’t result in what the decision-makers want or plan to do – the importance of staking territory, expanding influence and maintaining political profile has “eclipsed” the more listening side of communication. In the 80s and early 90s, most development agencies pretended to care about participatory development. Beyond the rhetoric, there were some agencies that believed in the value of long-term investments in people and ideas, were prepared to stay the course and adapt to local circumstances as the needs arose, and as a corollary (for indeed it was) were prepared to accept failure. There is no sure-fire direct path to success in any participatory endeavour, particularly when success in the eyes of the “doer/funder” may well not be defined as success in the eyes of the participant. The ability to risk failure in any timeframe is an essential ingredient of the plan. In the mid-90s, at least two factors led to changes in this respect: an economic downturn saw the larger aid agencies rein in their more open approach to experimentation in development, and the notion of Results Based Management (RBM) came to the fore, pushing development agencies to move from experimentation and participation to an obsessive focus on results. This shift marked the end of any consideration of participatory communication, and a move from a community focus to one of service delivery that could be measured by numbers within tight timeframes. The original thinking behind RBM, calling for clearer thinking around any initiative by basically asking, “what do you hope to do, and how, and how will you know when you have got there?” is not flawed. The problem, as we see it, is that RBM went from a notion of evaluation into a straightjacket of plotting the arrival of results within a prescribed timeframe. As we noted above, that just about never happens, particularly when you are dealing with human behaviour. When you think in communication terms, you are forced to ask questions around what is hoped to be achieved, with whom and how. Answers to these questions cannot be found within the office walls

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of an agency. They come from listening to the people for whom the initiative is intended. From the 90s, discussions amongst development communicators focused on the need for evaluation – the importance of finding indicators to measure the impact of the development communication approach. Partly this was an effort aimed at influencing donors who wanted to see proof of impact of this approach: a survey of decision-makers in the 90s indicated that evaluations had not “adequately brought out the measureable contribution of communication to development objectives” (McCall 2009). The fact that this was a topic of concern for every United Nations Inter-Agency Roundtable on Communication for Development from the 5th to the 11th indicates the difficulty with coming to grips with this dilemma. Discussions at the 11th Roundtable, held in 2009, centered on the need to enable an assessment of the extent to which UN agencies had developed indicators capable of measuring the impact of C4D initiatives (Inagaki 2007; Figueroa et al. 2002). This is the context that the community of development communication practitioners must grapple with. One where attention to participatory communication has waned, communication is mostly perceived to be synonymous to public relations, and evaluation is expected to show results in the short term and provide evidence of linear cause-effect connections between project activities and impact. To this context we contribute the understanding that public relations and participation are but different functions amidst a longer list of communication needs of projects or agencies that may include organisational communication, advocacy, inter-cultural communication, or behaviour change, to give some examples. As practitioners, in recent years we have witnessed the growing push for corporate communication within a tight funding base, combined with a dearth of people with scarce understanding of the wider functions of communication within a development organisation. It is against this background that we have been experimenting and learning about how hybridizing evaluation with communication can help reframe some of the challenges described above. Our experimentation, which is the focus of this chapter, took place in the context of the Developing Evaluation Capacity in Information and Communication for Development (DECI) project, funded by the IDRC.

The Developing Evaluation Capacity in Information and Communication for Development (DECI) project: background Institutional context Canada’s International Development Research Centre (IDRC) has long been an institution with a certain amount of freedom to allow for experimentation and thought. Started in 1970 under the [Pierre Elliot] Trudeau government in Canada, it was created to acknowledge that development solutions may best come from the people who are themselves seeking that support (Muirhead and Harpelle 2010),

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and to give assistance to recipient countries in creating their own research agenda and training researchers to make this possible. Initially, IDRC focused the support to local research on the development staples of agriculture and food production, along with water and sanitation and health delivery systems (including family planning). IDRC also added research in the social sciences and, with great foresight, long before the advent of the Internet, a division of Information Sciences with the understanding that “knowledge sharing” would be just as important as scientific research (IDRC 2017). IDRC began by opening several regional offices across the globe1 with a small staff of senior Canadian and local researchers. Senior staff members were encouraged to mentor more junior researchers, and thus a web of networks began to be formed around the world. These networks have been nurtured and now form a basis of knowledge sharing networks within the Global South. IDRC’s interest in the importance of knowledge sharing and communication led to a variety of innovations, and peaked in the late 80s and early 90s when IDRC not only had a Corporate Communication division, but also staff experimenting and researching participatory forms of communication and planning. Added to this was a focus on research-to-policy communication: IDRC invited policymakers into research teams right at the inception to ensure that their work reflected policy needs and would be implemented (IDRC 2017). We became familiar with the extent of IDRC’s commitment to broader approaches to communication when, in 2006, we were invited to review the inventive IDRC In Focus collection.2 Throughout the decades, IDRC, like other development organisations, has been subject to budget cuts and reorganisation, but has never lost its original focus. Today there is no unit focused on Communication for Development, nor on Research Uptake. However, the notion of policy influence is very much an IDRC priority, and program units have a mandate to undertake this work. IDRC has also developed a very strong in-house evaluation capacity, and is known for its experimentation with approaches such as Outcome Mapping – a methodology for planning and assessing development programing oriented towards change and social transformation. In 2011, the IDRC Communication unit asked us to do a Scoping Study on IDRC’s research communication initiatives since its inception. The study documented numerous communication activities associated with field programs, including some effective communication strategies. Some projects had a “common sense” for communication: while they did not have a communication strategy on paper, they had a practical know-how. We noticed this know-how as what we later came to know as “practical wisdom”: the intuition to do the right thing, at the right time, under circumstances that are unlikely to repeat themselves (more on this below). The study also showed a missed opportunity in that there was no headquarters unit that could document and learn from these experiences (Quarry and Ramírez 2011). Instead, IDRC’s Communication unit focused on corporate communication, seen by senior management as a priority to secure continuing funding from the federal government. The experiences reported in this chapter have emerged through an actionresearch project funded by the IDRC. In 2009, IDRC contracted the New

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Economy Development Group, a small firm based in Ottawa, to work in Asia with IDRC-supported networks to introduce Quinn Patton’s Utilisation Focused Evaluation (UFE) (Patton 2008; 2012) into their work. Entitled “Developing Evaluation Capacity in Information Society Research” (DECI-1), it was to be an action research experiment to test the efficacy of the UFE evaluative approach. One of us – Ricardo Ramírez – led the first project along with Dal Brodhead, the New Economy Group principal. UFE has been in use in development cooperation for several decades, and is essentially a decision-making framework that allows project implementers to take ownership over the design, implementation and reporting of their own evaluations. The emphasis in UFE is on the utilisation of the evaluation’s findings and process, enabling project teams to learn to use evidence and gain reflection and learning skills. In the context of DECI it led project managers towards a more critical assessment of their communication purposes. DECI-1 was designed to provide evaluation support to research projects funded by IDRC’s Information & Networks program (I&N).3 Researchers were mentored to develop their own evaluation designs; a form of collaborative evaluation based on the Quinn-Patton UFE approach. The origin of DECI-1 stemmed from collaboration between the IDRC’s Evaluation Unit and the I&N team. The staff shared an interest in testing and adapting existing evaluation methodologies to help researchers become more reflective and systematically learn from their research efforts. DECI-1 was developed as a vehicle to provide capacity development in UFE. In contrast with previous training efforts, which consisted of compressing the introduction of evaluation methods to researchers into workshops, the emphasis was placed on mentoring the research project teams at their own pace. Mentoring was provided to five research projects funded by IDRC. A unique feature of DECI-1 was the conscious attempt by IDRC officials not to interfere with the project’s evaluation designs. The projects had the liberty of owning the design of their evaluations, something that is not common in funder-grantee relations anywhere. In the end, five evaluation reports were produced, and used. Based on summaries of the five experiences prepared by the DECI-1 team, a short UFE Primer was published in 2013, targeted mainly for evaluation professionals (Ramírez and Brodhead 2013). The IDRC officials reported having used DECI-1’s findings to their satisfaction, and wrote a short chapter in the Primer recounting what this process meant for them as commissioners of evaluation. Based on this positive experience, the Networked Economies (NE) program was ready for a follow-up phase of the project. In 2012, the head of the NE program suggested that a second DECI project could provide mentoring in communication as well as UFE. IDRC had also experimented with intense workshops on communication planning (which one of us attended) where the researchers were exposed to topics such as how to prepare a policy brief, how to do audience analysis, how to work with the media, how to conduct an interview, etc. The trainers were mainly sub-contracted specialists, though some staff from the Communication unit did participate as well. As with the evaluation workshops, the level of uptake

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in skills and knowledge was limited. For IDRC it was clear that its researcher grantees partners could benefit from communication planning, and they felt that the DECI-1 approach to capacity development in evaluation could be applied to communication. The contract was then extended to include Latin America, East Africa as well as Asia, and this time look at combining evaluation and communication to see if one might support the other, and this became DECI-2. At this stage the other one of us -Wendy Quarry- joined the team. DECI-2 followed the same mentoring approach as DECI-1. What changed was the incorporation of a communication dimension, as well as the expansion to a global coverage and the opportunity to support research projects that were in their early stages of implementation. To cover three continents, the DECI-2 project engaged two mentors in each continent (Asia, East Africa and Latin America), one with an evaluation background and the other with a communication one. They were deployed in pairs to cover both topics. Where DECI-2 differed most from DECI-1 was in the integration of communication, which constituted a broader mandate. The nature and depth of integration between evaluation and communication was unchartered territory, and so were the skill sets required by the teams of mentors. In the following section we detail the origins of this approach and how it evolved towards a hybrid decision-making framework, leading to a novel approach for both the planning and implementation of evaluation and communication in donor-funded initiatives.

A hybrid decision-making framework as methodology In the initial project concept note for DECI-2 proposed to IDRC, we referred to “communication for development” as the foundation for the communication component. What we meant with this term was a type of communication that was not synonymous with a dissemination purpose, but that could also incorporate dissemination along with other functions – especially active listening and the exchange of views and perspectives. We were influenced by the notion in the RAPID framework that policy influence is not linear, that it often happens in unpredictable ways, and that engagement with “target audiences” from the start is strategic as a means of creating relationships (ODI 2006). What emerged during the discussions with IDRC was a preference for the term “research communication,” in line with the IDRC’s emphasis on sharing research with different stakeholders, with policy communities as the principal audience. We adjusted the terminology to suit IDRC’s preference rather than insist on using our original name, as we felt that the process was what mattered, and it was our responsibility to develop the approach. Elsewhere we have noted the multiple permutations that the field of “development communication” has undergone (Quarry and Ramírez 2009). We have come to see the shifts in terminology as a chameleonic characteristic of communication units, which adjust their identity to survive institutional politics and funding priorities. We stayed true to principles of communication planning that emphasise that planning take place from the beginning of any development effort and with stakeholder

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involvement (Anyaegbunam, Mefalopulos, and Moestsabi 2004; FAO 1989; Mefalopulos and Kamlongera 2004). We also leaned on the notion that within development cooperation, communication can support a variety of purposes or functions that can be combined into a single strategy (Fraser and Villet 1994; Thomas and van de Fliert 2015; Quarry and Ramírez 2011, 2012; Ramírez and Quarry 2004, 2010). For IDRC, a major goal was linking research to practice and to policy, an area that has grown in recent years and goes by many names, including knowledge management (Beesley and Cooper 2008; Hagmann and Gillman 2017), research uptake (Barnett and Gregorowski 2013; Carden 2004), and research communications and uptake (Adolf et al. 2009; Shaxson 2010). We also built on work during DECI-1 where we had already taken into account the similarities between a collaborative approach to evaluation, such as UFE, and our experience with participatory communication. This is illustrated in the blog quoted below: A couple of principles of UFE [...] have emerged as most relevant from our action-research project. The first one is about the ownership of the process: Patton emphasizes this principle and we have lived it in our project experience. Having control over every component of the evaluation has led the projects to assume a learning process that is reflexive and committed. The second is about facilitation vs. external measurement: as evaluators, we have become facilitators, as opposed to external judges [...] our coaching role shifted to a mentoring one: we were learning as peers. In my communication experience, this role is also the most effective. Ramírez 2011 We saw evaluation and communication as project management tools to assist teams: evaluation as a means of ensuring project strategies could stay focused or be adapted and that outcomes would be documented, and communication to support relationships among networks of researchers and to ensure that project results would be shared with interested audiences. Literature referring to evaluation and communication in an integrated manner is scarce. There are approaches to evaluating Communication for Development as a specific component of development cooperation work (Hanley 2014; Myers 2004; Balit 2005; Parks et al. 2005; Lennie and Tacchi 2013, 2015). There are communication strategies to enhance the uptake of research outcomes, be they to track the outcomes of networks (Horelli 2009; Albrecht et al. 2014; Taylor et al. 2014) or to enhance policy influence (Carden 2004; Lynn 2014). There is also an emphasis on the knowledge translation value of evaluation (Donnelly et al. 2014). DECI-2 led us to think about the theoretical and practical linkages between both areas: their “family trees” overlap in that participatory action-research is common to the collaborative evaluation (Cousins et al. 2012, 2015; Shulha et al. 2016) and participatory communication approaches that we work with (Ramírez 2017; Waisbord 2001).

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In our original framework we proposed two sets of parallel steps, one for evaluation based on UFE, and one for communication based on a number of existing communication planning methods. This initial effort at hybridisation was tentative, and we expected it would require fine-tuning through practice. During implementation, we noted an emerging confluence of the two areas: evaluation findings could generate content to be communicated; and communication activities could become a use or purpose for evaluation.

Practical wisdom: a way of thinking In June of 2016, after four years of work, the full DECI-2 team met in Cape Town, South Africa to review lessons together with two of the research partners and IDRC. One of the outcomes of the meeting was the realisation that the approach could be simplified to its essential steps. DECI-2 evolved as a learning process whereby we started with a hybrid framework consisting of 12 steps for evaluation and 12 for communication and, through practice, simplified it down to the essential elements (Figure 7.1). When evaluation and communication inputs are offered in a modular fashion, they fit into each project context uniquely, but some steps typical of both approaches matter the most: understanding context; defining evaluation users, and evaluation uses or purposes; defining communication purposes and learning about each stakeholder group’s views and media preference through audience research. These steps were key in leading to a sense of ownership within the research projects regarding the

Mentoring in EVALUATION & COMMUNICATION planning Who are the USERS or OWNERS of the evaluation?

READINESS assessment of the organisation, project, and personnel What are the USES or P POSES of PUR PURPOSES the evaluation?

What are the KEY EVALUATION QUESTIONS?

FIGURE 7.1

What are the W C OMMUNICATION A COMMUNICATION PURPOSES? (Why, about what, for what reason?) Which are the METHODS, MEDIA CHANNELS to reach each audience group? What are the MEASURABLE OBJECTIVES to verify reach & outcomes?

SITUATIONAL ANALYSIS to understand the context of the project and organisation

What are the tools & methods to collect the DATA & EVIDENCE?

Who are the STAKEHOLDERS & AUDIENCES to engage with?

Summary of the hybrid’s most strategic steps

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evaluation designs, and a realisation that communication can have different functions, some which could be acted upon from the very start of a project cycle. We concluded that while the combination should not be mandatory – a project could benefit from working only on evaluation or communication – it had its own strengths. We think of the evolution of both DECI-2 and the framework as examples of the Aristotelian notion of phronēsis, best described in the book “Practical Wisdom” (Schwartz and Sharpe 2010; Ramírez, Quarry, and Guerin 2015). The term refers to the acquired skill of knowing what to do when facing unique circumstances. Practical wisdom is not a skill or a craft that can be taught or learned from a manual or a workshop. Rather, phronēsis emerges from experience, from many incidents of trial and error. When we came across this notion, we realised it gave a name to the communication capabilities we had always wanted to instill in trainees (Quarry and Ramírez 2008; Ramírez and Quarry 2009; Ramírez, Quarry, and Guerin 2015). We also looked back on how we ourselves had learned our way into UFE through experimentation, reflection and iteration (Brodhead and Ramírez 2014a, 2014b), or how we had used the same notion to mentor research partners in communication strategy development (Ramírez 2005). Clearly, the notion of “learning one’s way into a new topic” constituted a means of acquiring practical wisdom, and the DECI-2 initiative allowed us to do this, partly because the project itself happened to be an applied research project. We are familiar with the challenges that the development sector faces: pressure to show results in the short term; evaluation requirements that expect evidence of linear cause–effect connections between project activities and impact; and communication often perceived to be synonymous to public relations. We referred to the challenge of working in this context, while trying to introduce more nuanced, grounded, and participatory approaches – as working in the grey zone (Quarry and Ramírez 2009). The DECI-2 research project, with its unusual combination of objectives, has given us a wider space, brighter than many grey zones of the past, and possibly quite unique. The external evaluation of DECI-2 that was completed in the spring of 2017 confirmed the value of this combination (Hearn and Batchelor 2017). The evidence demonstrated that the research partners had gained capacities in terms of both evaluative thinking and communication planning and design. Moreover, the hybrid approach had enhanced their confidence to become adaptive. But what does this approach look like when implemented on the ground? In the next section we consider one concrete example.

Case study: a mobile application in health services, Assam, India During DECI-1, our regional evaluation mentor (Sonal Zaveri) supported the work of the Information Society Innovation Fund Asia (ISIF). This was a grants and awards program co-funded by IDRC that aimed at stimulating creative and innovative solutions to information and communication technology for development (ICTD) in Asia and the Pacific. During DECI-2, the ISIF program directed the

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mentoring to their grantees.4 The two DECI-2 mentors, Sonal Zaveri and Vira Ramelan, worked with grantees in the Cook Islands, Cambodia and India. Most of the mentoring took place via email, skype, and webinars across Asia and the Pacific. This case study stems from the latter project.5 Tea garden workers in Assam, India, have insufficient access to health facilities and essential services. Existing facilities are severely underequipped and understaffed, and many villages are located in underserved and remote areas. Many of the tea workers belong to the indigenous (“Adivasi”) community, who suffer high rates of maternal and infant mortality with minimal access to legal and advocacy resources to address violations. In response to this situation, the human rights organisation Nazdeek, in partnership with a second organisation (Pajrha), piloted a nine-month project that tracked, mapped, and received real-time incident reporting by volunteers and health workers. This process took place through a SMS mobile and mapping platform set up to track cases of maternal and infant mortality. Forty women volunteers were given mobile phones to report health rights violations that had been pre-coded by type. Women were expected to text the code for the violations, which were received at the project office and verified by staff. The violations were then populated on a map, which confirmed the location and type of violation. The evidence was collected to demonstrate the magnitude of the problem and thus put pressure on the local health authority to provide health services to the tea garden workers. The DECI-2 mentors invited the project team to identify what they wanted to evaluate and in parallel offered an opportunity to work with them on their communication strategy. The team had a single person in charge of both UFE and Research Communication (ResCom), so the DECI-2 mentors had to find ways not to overwhelm him. He was given the option to choose (or not) to combine ResCom with UFE. The project needed to test an innovation through field experimentation. The staff identified those stakeholders who would be interested in the innovation: the volunteers using the mobile platform, the health authorities, and ultimately the tea workers. What was less clear was how to gauge whether the experiment was working. The assumptions about how it would unfold had not been expressed: there had not been a space to define a “theory of change”. And, of more concern, it became apparent that the project would face challenges connecting with the local government. Assam is a border state in the North East of India where agitation politics is common, and one of the implementing NGOs had a history of confrontation with the very authorities that they now sought to influence through their SMS innovation. As the mentoring in evaluation began, Nazdeek and Pajhra went through several iterations to decide on the users and uses of evaluation, as well as the key evaluation questions (KEQs). They finally settled on one use: “To learn about implementation to improve the program, so that Pajhra and Nazdeek are better informed to source the next round of funding”. Not surprisingly, the NGOs narrowly interpreted communication as something associated with dissemination campaigns. For this reason, during the early stage of mentoring, it was difficult for project staff to define purpose and the objectives of communication. The staff were hesitant to carry out audience research, although they did have some knowledge about their audiences’ preferences. The absence of

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communication purposes and objectives, and the lack of knowledge about audiences’ preferences, made it difficult for the projects to assess whether their communication efforts would work. After several exchanges over Skype, one of the DECI-2 mentors was able to visit the project site. This allowed her to better appreciate the situation and understand the partnership between Nazdeek – a high profile human rights NGO – and Pajhra – a committed field level NGO fighting for the rights of the marginalised. Nazdeek had filed two human rights violations in the state’s high court with documentary evidence and the atmosphere was very tense when the mentor visited Tezpur, Assam. In addition, the hallmark of the project, which was greater community involvement in reporting human rights violation, was itself under threat. While the geo-mapping of health rights violations was taking place, the tea garden owners and the government were unaware. The women volunteers were afraid to report health rights violations as some of them were employed by the government (as nurse, nursery teacher, etc.). Discussions with the Pajhra staff indicated that some women volunteers were not texting the infringements: they faced problems in selecting the right code, and did not seem to be motivated. Many women had never reported, while others were very active. It also became clear that, without good community level data, Nazdeek would not be able to confront the government. Nazdeek and Pajhra eventually agreed to use more collaborative approaches to engage the government. It was decided that Pajhra would lead the communication activities with the government, as Nazdeek would have been perceived as antagonistic. This meant that an explicit communication strategy needed to be built to support this work. A starting place was audience analysis, which allowed the team to connect with the government as a future audience and begin to establish a basis for collaboration. As the basis of the project communication strategy, the following audiences and communication purposes were identified: • • • •

•

Internal Partner Communication Purpose: to listen, understand, and develop Project Participant Communication Purpose: to listen, understand, learn and help Project Participant outreach Purpose: to collect data and disseminate information External Stakeholder Communication – specifically local/State level authorities including governing bodies Purpose: to influence policy/disseminate information to affect behaviour Broader Community – such as online users and NGO community Purpose: to disseminate information

This set of communication purposes is an excerpt from the strategy that the NGO team produced. It breaks the communication strategy into elements that had previously not been appreciated and helped the NGO review its overall implementation approach. The collection of purposes illustrates the various functions of

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communication: some focused on active listening and relationship building, others on sharing data and findings, and others on dissemination for policy influence. There were several rounds of preparatory emails and skypes but it was only when face-to-face discussions with the DECI-2 mentor took place where she was able to ask about what needed to be evaluated (evaluation uses) and what needed to be communicated (communication purposes), that the idea of building and strengthening partnerships with the government took root. External stakeholder communication centered on sharing findings with the health authority. The result of the situational analysis (a shared step between UFE and ResCom; see Figure 4) shed light on the need to build a relationship with the local government in order to get their attention on the urgent need to stop violations of the health rights of women labourers at the tea garden. The underlying assumption here was that while a government might be part of the problem, they were also part of the solution, and that change would be less likely to occur if organisations took an open and strong confrontational political stand. The use of UFE for communication purposes in turn helped clarify and address issues having to do with project participants. The information about the volunteers’ profiles and about their motivation and constraints in reporting that was gathered through UFE led the team to realise why there were reporting lapses, and led to the ability to address those directly in communication with field participants. Following the communication strategy implementation, Nazdeek, Pajhra, and ICAAD released the report No Time to Lose: Fighting Maternal and Infant Mortality through Community Reporting and sent out a joint press release about it. The press release mentioned that commitment from the government was gained with the plan to establish a “Citizen Grievance Forum” at the local level to address maternal health violations. A short video was also made and distributed highlighting stories on maternal mortality cases from the ground, as well as testimonies on how the app is used as a tool to report cases. The Nazdeek team reported that media coverage was good. Around four to five local and national newspapers covered the press conference, including The Hindustan Times, and coverage was indeed positive. Soon after, Time Magazine and The Guardian covered the story of the use of the app as a tool for community reporting to reduce maternal and infant mortality in Assam.6 While evaluation worked as the entry point in this case, communication dimensions quickly emerged as relevant. We reflect on those dimensions in the next section

Reconciling participatory communication and PR: lessons learned Clarity regarding intent What matters most is to have clarity as to the purpose of the communication initiative – the overall intent. What is it that we want the communication initiative to do and what do we hope to achieve. Quarry and Ramírez 2009, 18

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The work we have been doing with evaluation and communication in DECI-1 and 2 has helped us reframe what in earlier work we perceived as a dichotomy between participatory communication and the more top down information and public relations purposes (Quarry and Ramírez 2009). Most of our partners, especially their communication advisors, did not hold any preconceptions about the dichotomy. All of them needed to demonstrate that the investment was worthy, not only to their funder, but also in order to seek future further resources. But they were also keen on interacting with partners (networking, active listening), and on sharing findings (knowledge sharing, dissemination). In communication planning, the emphasis on audience research allowed the projects to start interacting with stakeholder groups early on, and this created relationships and enhanced a sense of trust between them. Aligning audiences with communication purposes and with proven methods and media helped the projects be strategic and purposeful. The dichotomy was solved in practice when demonstrating relevance and policy impact were prioritised.

Organisational, project, and individual capabilities The manager of another DECI-2 participating project, Operation Asha in Cambodia, reported that once she learned the UFE logic, the ResCom side was easy to grasp. It became second nature, and a form of practical wisdom emerged. In that instance, she wore multiple hats: project manager, evaluator and communicator. She grasped the interconnections between the evaluation and communication dimensions as tools to help her adjust her project (an experimental App to help identify Tuberculosis outbreaks and monitor patient treatment). She has since moved onto to other work, which means that the Cambodia project may not have retained that experience, but she will be able to take this planning logic into new fields, thus disseminating phronēsis. An area for future study and field experimentation relates to the implications of combining evaluation and communication at project level in the context of funding agencies that have separate units dedicated to each within their organisational structures. Such units are staffed with experts that are not always able or willing to work across silos. The DECI project comes from collaboration between two different IDRC units, but so far the hybridisation of evaluation and communication has only been encouraged at the program level.

Mentoring for capacity development in evaluation and communication The capacity development process, based on mentoring as opposed to short-term workshops, is worthy of attention. Throughout DECI-1 and 2 we learned that justin-time mentoring meant supporting projects at the times when they needed expert peer support in their project cycle. We worked at their pace, and to the extent possible tried to understand their organisational context. This meant that the capacity

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development effort was attached to their rhythms, institutional requirements, and deadlines. This seemed to maximise the learning, as every step resulted in concrete action. Mentoring in fact plays a brokering role: translating expectations about how to document change in order to serve evaluation purposes; and accommodating networking, sharing, and dissemination concerns into communication needs and objectives.

Repositioning communication What does this mean in terms of the participatory vs. public relations dichotomy? With the Assam case, we exemplified how the different communication purposes were combined into a single strategy. The point of combining them is derived from the understanding that different stakeholder or audience groups need tailor-made “attention,” be it networking, contributing ideas, receiving materials about findings, etc. Combining communication purposes is best done by following an underlying logic, which in the case of DECI-1 and 2 came initially from UFE. We borrowed that logic to make the job of the communication professional manageable. The mentoring hybrid developed, tried and tested through the DECI-2 process enabled communicators to redefine the purpose and value of their work at project level by linking it meaningfully to evaluation. This repositioning of communication could potentially generate the conditions for communication work that is both more participatory and more substantial, as seen in the Assam example. Whether those conditions can be sustained over time remains to be seen, as they rely on small teams of people with practical wisdom, which is not a feature that agencies or other organisations may be able to fully appreciate and retain.

Conclusions Our experience with DECI-2 shows that the planning logic of an evaluation decision-making framework can be productively applied into communication planning. We are reframing the participation versus public relations dichotomy by stating that, participatory, public relations, and indeed other functions or purposes of communication, are all legitimate, necessary, and can complement each other. Our experience has also shown that programs that introduce evaluation at an early stage of implementation tend to lead management straight into questioning what it is that a program is trying to achieve. In particular, UFE demands that evaluators consider the different uses of evaluation prior to initiating the process. Raising similar questions regarding communication in parallel leads to considering the various purposes to be achieved in this respect: public relations; visibility; participation; behavioural change, and so on. This is a notion shared by scholars Thomas and van de Fliert (2015).7 In “Communication for Another Development: Listening before telling” (2009) we referred to the participatory – public relations dichotomy. Almost ten years later, we see change. Starting from the understanding that communication can serve a

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wide number of needs or purposes, what is important is the ability to clarify its different purposes within a given initiative. It is essential to ask: what is it that we want to achieve, and what do we need to do to try to achieve it? Brokering the most contextually appropriate answers to this question, while at the same time developing the capacities of project staff, may well be the role of the communication expert for the development of the future.

Notes 1 2

3 4 5 6

7

Singapore, Lebanon (relocated to Egypt), Kenya, Senegal, Colombia (relocated to Uruguay), and later South Africa and India. This was an initiative that strove to popularise proven research experience by asking ghost writers to work with the subject-matter experts and co-write reports into user-friendly booklets. This initiative resulted in a collection of highly readable and diverse booklets, but ended up being used more in schools than as material to reach policymakers. Since then renamed Networked Economies. ISIF was a research partner that provided grantees in Asia and the Pacific with action research grants. Refer to the DECI-2 website (www.evaluationandcommunicationinpractice.net) for a case study entitled: Mentoring three ISIF-funded projects in evaluation and research communication (Aug. 2016). At the time of finalizing this chapter, an update received from a former Nazdeek staff member provided more details on the outcomes. Aside from tangible improvements on health service delivery, the establishment of the two-way forums allowed women in one area to communicate with the local program manager, and volunteers are now able to contact him openly. As a result of this success, the NGO has recently launched another SMS-based reporting system in Delhi. “A specific development initiative is likely to use more than one [of the above] functions and the mix will depend on the overall scope and nature of the initiative [...] For example, development initiatives often require [...] organisational communication to ensure that human and financial resources are used effectively. Participatory communication may be used so that the programme is appropriate for the intended purpose, while advocacy communication is employed to lobby government organisation of other institutions to enforce lasting change” (p. 127).

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Muirhead, B. and Harpelle, R. N. (2010). IDRC: 40 years of ideas, innovation and impact, Wilfred Laurier University Press, Waterloo, ON. Myers, M. (2004). Evaluation methodologies for Information and Communication for Development (ICD) programmes, DFID, London. ODI (2006). The RAPID framework, ODI, London. Parks, W., Gray Felder, D., Hunt, J. and Byrne, A. (2005). Who measures change? An introduction to participatory monitoring and evaluation of communication for social change, Communication for Social Change Consortium, South Orange, NJ, USA. Patton, M. Q. (2012). Essentials of utilization-focused evaluation, Sage Publications, Los Angeles, London, New Delhi, and Singapore. ——— (2008). Utilization-focused evaluation (4th ed.), Sage Publications, Los Angeles, London, New Delhi, and Singapore. Quarry, W. (2006). “Decision-makers do want communication: What they don’t want is participation.” Paper presented at the World Congress of Communication for Development, FAO, Rome. Quarry, W. and Ramírez, R. (2012). “The limits of communication: The gnat on the elephant.” Glocal Times, 17/18, a special issue in collaboration with the Nordicom Review 33: 121–34. ——— (2011). An opportunity looking for a home: Research communications at IDRC, Consultancy Report, IDRC, Ottawa. ——— (2009). Communication for another development: Listening before telling, Zed Books, London. ——— (2008). “The common sense of communication.” Paper presented at the Participatory Communication and the Politics of Development Programs Section of the Media and Global Divides Congress of the International Association for Media and Communication Research, Stockholm, 21–25 July. Ramírez, R. (2017). “Un marco decisional en evaluación y comunicación: Resumen de investigación-acción,” in Evaluación y monitorización de la Comunicación para el Desarrollo y el Cambio Social – EvalComDev, Cádiz, Spain, 9–11 May. ——— (2011). “Why ‘utilization focused communication’ is not an oxymoron.” Communication, media and development policy, BB World Service Trust, www.comminit. com/node/329198 —— (2005). “Learning our way into communication: The making of the communication and information strategy with the national agricultural advisory services programme in Uganda.” The Journal of Agricultural Education and Extension 11(1–4): 1–15. Ramírez, R. and Brodhead, D. (2013). Utilization-focused evaluation: A primer for evaluators, Southbound, Penang. Ramírez, R. and Quarry, W. (2010). “Communication for another development.” Development 53(1): 54–7. ——— (2009). “Communication common sense.” A Web-Cast Seminar by the University of Malmö, Sweden, Masters in Communication for Development, with collaboration from the University of Guelph, Canada, 14 March. ——— (2004). “Communication strategies in the age of decentralization and privatization of rural services: Lessons from two African experiences.” Agricultural Research and Extension Network Paper 136, Overseas Development Institute, London, July. Ramírez, R., Quarry, W. and Guerin, F. (2015). “Community note: Can participatory communication be taught? Finding your inner phronēsis.” Knowledge Management for Development Journal 11(2): 101–11. Schwartz, B. and Sharpe, K. (2010). Practical wisdom: The right way to do the right thing, Riverhead Books, New York.

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Shaxson, L. (2010). “Improving the impact of development research through better research communications and uptake.” Background Paper for the AusAID, DFID and UKCDS Funded Workshop, London, 29 and 30 November. Shulha, L., Whitmore, E., Cousins, J. B., Gilbert, N. and Al Hudib, H. (2016). “Introducing evidence based principles to guide collaborative approaches to evaluation: Results of an empirical process.” American Journal of Evaluation 37(2): 193–217. Taylor, M., Plastrik, P., Coffman, J. and Whatley, A. (2014). Evaluating network for social change: A case book: Part 2 of a guide to network evaluation, Network Impact & Center for Evaluation Innovation, Washington, DC. Thomas, P. N. and van de Fliert, E. (2015). Interrogating the theory and practice of communication for social change, Palgrave MacMillan. Basingstoke, Hampshire, UK and New York, USA. Waisbord, S. (2001). Family tree of theories, methodologies and strategies in development communication: Convergences and differences, Rockefeller Foundation, New York.

8 COMMUNICATING DEVELOPMENT RESULTS IN AN EMERGING “POST-AID” ERA Peter da Costa

Introduction: are we living in a “post-aid” world? As early as 2008, the phrase “post-aid world” was being invoked in the context of debates on how to make aid more effective within the frame of international development.1 In 2009, Zambian-born aid-sceptic and economist Dambisa Moyo sparked a fiery debate with her book Dead Aid: Why aid is not working and why there is a better way for Africa (Moyo 2009), leading a number of other commentators to suggest that an eventual end to aid might not be such a bad thing (cf. Glennie 2008). By 2017, there appears to be a growing convergence around notions of a “post-aid world” in which external development assistance will eventually cease to dominate the resources available to poorer countries in their quest to develop. The Observer Research Forum, a think-tank with a focus on India, refers to a “post-aid world” in connection with “the changing nature of the architecture for international development and humanitarian assistance, and the role of the southern actors in bringing about this transformation”.2 Other examples from the international development sphere speak to a clamor for aid to either be rendered more effective; to be instrumentalised to better serve the foreign policy and commercial interests of aid-givers; or to be scrapped altogether and replaced with something else. One media commentator has written about a shift during President Obama’s tenure – away from an aid-driven US policy towards Africa, to a “post-aid legacy” that promoted private sector investment in Africa.3 A leading African think-tanker has reaffirmed this downplaying of foreign aid and talking up of foreign investment, arguing that “time will tell” whether this “post-aid” approach leads to transformational change.4 An Australian commentator adopts a similar understanding, noting that due to the largest-ever aid budget cuts in 2014, “Australia’s aid to Africa has, for the time being at least, come to a “virtual end” … which means that we have entered a “post-aid” phase of foreign policy engagement”.5

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Towards a definition of a “post-aid regime” Several trends signal this emerging “post-aid” world. Since the 2008 global financial crisis, traditional aid has decreased in significance and predictability as a source of development financing. As this type of aid declines in significance, there is growing pressure on donor countries, their implementing agencies and recipient governments to be more transparent and accountable. In parallel, new actors – e.g. non-Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) donors, social impact investors, corporate philanthropy and diaspora communities – and new mechanisms for financing development – e.g. private flows and remittances – are coming to the fore and domestic resources, be they from tax revenues, savings, or even stemming from illicit financial flows, are assuming greater prominence in the development financing discourse, if not always in practice. Narratives around “wealth creation”, “economic transformation”, and “trade and investment” are supplanting traditional narratives around “poverty reduction”, and developing countries are becoming more assertive in terms of voice and agency. Some countries in the Global South, such as China and Ethiopia, have consistently posted double-digit growth in recent years and are looking towards economic takeoff. Economic growth, however, has not led to poverty reduction, and inequality is rising within and between countries North and South. Intensifying threats are being posed by global challenges such as climate change; persistent disease outbreaks; recurring drought, famine and food insecurity; the rise of extremism, fundamentalism, and intolerance; unprecedented displacement and migration; and the mushrooming of criminal networks exploiting human suffering for profit. The construct of a “post-aid regime” that I am putting forward in this chapter is partially consonant with the above-mentioned understandings of a “post-aid world”, although it differs in recognizing that development assistance will not end anytime soon: elements of the old, dominant narrative and practice of aiddriven development will remain very much a part of the landscape, at least in the medium term. By juxtaposing “post-aid” with “regime”, I deliberately attempt to provoke reflection on the notion of “development” as a shared ideology advanced by a complex form of power.6 In a post-aid regime, the idea of “development-as-progress” remains compelling, indeed hegemonic, precisely because there is a shared, universal belief in personal and societal advancement, however defined or measured. As this emerging post-aid regime takes shape, there is growing consensus on the need for new approaches to development that will bring equity, inclusivity and progress for all. The United Nations (UN) Agenda 2030 and its Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs), agreed in 2015 by world leaders after unprecedented consultation with citizens around the globe, provide the latest unifying narrative and framework for a renewed focus on development – propelled by aspirations of “leaving no one behind” and “making sure that everyone is counted so that everyone counts”.

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The 17 SDGs, accompanied by 169 targets and 232 agreed indicators, form an important part of evolving understandings of “development-as-progress”, and engagement around how to ensure this progress happens and can be effectively measured. In turn, questions arise about what progress means to different groups of stakeholders, and which actors should be the storytellers of advancement. Assuming that there is progress, how can development results be best communicated? By whom, to whom, and to what end? I say “assuming that there is progress” because, despite the promise of the SDGs, the “post-aid regime” is also radically unstable. As media scholar Ngomba (2013) argues, the focus on economic growth as the means and the end of development is regrettably taking the world backwards. In his view, “we need to bring the people back into contemporary discussions about development and it is here that communication, in particular communication for social change, can be a force for good” (ibid., 32). Building on Ngomba’s argument that communication should be a central element of the transition towards a “post-aid regime”, this chapter in turn asks: should we still care about communicating development results in a “post-aid regime”?

Structure of the chapter In order to consider the question of whether communication and development scholars and practitioners should still care about communicating development results in a “post-aid regime”, the chapter will proceed as follows. I begin by revisiting practice-based understandings of “communicating for results”, drawing on previous work on bilateral as well as multilateral aid agency communication. I discuss the emerging “post-aid” regime and highlight the challenges the new configuration poses to development communicators. Thereafter, I zero in on the significant challenges to “communicating for development” and “communicating about development” implied by the “post-aid regime” – with an emphasis on the transition from the UN’s Millennium Development Goals (MDGs, adopted in 2000 and replaced in 2015) to Agenda 2030 and its Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) as well as the growing primacy of national development strategies in less-developed countries and regions. I interrogate the notion of “development results” as thrown into question by this emerging regime, and reflect on whether it will be possible in the future to conceive of results, and indeed “communicating results”, on the basis of current understandings. I then unpack the critical questions of which results will matter and for whom, and, with an eye to the future, share insights into actually-existing practices in development communication – both citizen-led and digitally enabled – that point the way forward. I reflect on what the emerging practices imply for traditional intermediaries – donor agency communicators that are grappling with how best to harness the SDGs as a communication opportunity. I end by signposting modified understandings of C4D and CAD and identifying potential avenues for communicating results in the future.

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The insights in this chapter are informed primarily by studies and background papers drawing on operational and practical experience of aid agency communicators; international norms and standards codifying agreed global actions; and my own reflections from practice in the field of development and communication. Secondary sources include academic literature on communication and development and e-mail consultation with experts in the field.

Communicating “results” in an increasingly complex development landscape An important aspect of the emerging “post-aid regime” is the understanding of development not as a series of discrete activities or projects, but instead as a vast, complex and messy endeavour, involving a variety of stakeholders to differing degrees: diverse donors, developing country governments, devolved government and local legislators, NGOs, community-based grassroots organisations, and citizens themselves. The discursive focus, particularly in donor-dominated forums such as the OECD, has in recent years broadened from a narrow obsession with “aid effectiveness” – driven primarily by aid agency concerns of how public money is managed and spent, questions of “value for money” and “bang for the buck” – to wider concerns with “development effectiveness” – how to ensure the best possible outcomes from what is a complex, multifaceted enterprise (OECD 2014a). The shift from aid effectiveness to development effectiveness has the potential to redirect attention from direct attribution to contribution, and to foreground communication as a major link in the accountability relationship between aid agencies and donor country taxpayers. As Hem and Nygaard (2012) have noted: “Looking forward in the quest for ‘communicating results’ we need to re-think development and development communication beyond the shallow donor–recipient images that have distorted perceptions and misled public opinion for decades”. (cited in OECD 2014a). The challenge for donors in this context is how to communicate their contribution to shared outcomes as opposed to attributing successes to their singlehanded inputs. In the past, demonstrating the impact of aid donated by a given country tended to come down to reporting output data from diverse projects funded in different developing countries. Then the challenge was not necessarily showing that aid was leading to quality development outcomes and long-term, sustainable impact. It was enough to show that the money was being spent on outputs as allocated (da Costa 2009). The tendency was to seek to identify the link between the inputs of a given aid agency, government or NGO (the financial, human, and material resources invested in a particular project of program) and specific outputs (the products, capital goods, and services resulting from intervention) in a developing country. The monitoring and evaluation of development interventions tended to focus on “outputs” that could be easily cited as indicators of successful donorship. But development practitioners are increasingly acknowledging the near impossibility to attribute success to any single-handed actor or initiative.

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Current approaches to monitoring and evaluation such as “managing for development results” (MfDR) or “results-based management” (RBM) focus instead on the results cycle as a whole. In particular, MfDR strongly emphasises outcomes (the likely or achieved short-term or medium-term effects of the intervention’s outputs) and impacts (the long-term effects – whether positive or negative, primary or secondary, intended or unintended, direct or indirect – produced by a development intervention) (da Costa 2009). In this context, agency communicators have started to move beyond reporting about the effectiveness of aid emanating from their countries and destined for specific projects in selected partner countries. The focus is instead on telling a story about how the aggregate contribution of several donors, working in partnership in a collective effort, is bringing about structural change that will ultimately lead to sustainable development (da Costa 2009). This, however, may be easier said than done. Amidst a growing squeeze on budgets, the emphasis on MfDR has quite often triggered investment in tools, systems and processes that emphasise upward accountability from aid agencies to political masters and donor publics. While conceiving of “results” and “impact” in such a way runs a real risk of privileging approaches that count numbers as opposed to telling stories of how people are progressing, it still holds the potential for moving away from communicating the impact of aid per se, and towards communicating “development impact” (da Costa 2009).

Communicating for and about results Development communicators seek to do one or more of three things: communicate about results (explain to donor taxpayers or other internal constituencies within the donor country how aid is working); communicate for results (harness communication as a tool as well as a process for the effective delivery of aid programs, in a way akin to what is generally known as “communication for development” or “C4D”); and invest in development education (to stimulate or deepen the general public’s interest in development and development-related issues) (OECD 2014a). In previous work to inform the development of guidelines for results communication for the OECD Development Assistance Committee (DAC) (cf. da Costa 2008; da Costa 2009; OECD 2014a), I developed a conceptual framework that defines “communicating results” as a pragmatic combination of communication about development (CAD) and elements of communication for development (C4D). While it is hard to draw hard and fast boundaries between communication for and about development, it is useful to consider the differences between them in order to rethink results communication in the emerging “post-aid regime”. In the OECD framework I substitute “development” for “results” in order to harness the heightened emphasis on “development results” as reflecting the outcomes and impacts of aid and other inputs. Thus, CAD becomes “communicating about results”, whilst C4D becomes “communicating for results”. Both approaches aim to communicate results to specific groups of stakeholders, and each requires clarity when

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expressing how results are defined and captured. Results differ depending on who is communicating them, and to whom they matter. As a generalisation, CAD is a strategy towards “valorizing do-gooding” that tends to communicate results at defined points during an intervention (usually mid-term or at the end), packaged in forms that appeal primarily to aid-givers and others interested in learning about whether their inputs are helping deliver the desired development outcomes. Results in the context of C4D tend to be communicated throughout the intervention cycle to ensure that the intervention “does good”, and matter to those engaged in delivering a particular set of outputs and outcomes. In reality, any development agency that is strategic or capacitated enough can communicate to do good as well as to look good, drawing on the two approaches. In the OECD framework, C4D, or “communication for results”, is both a tool and a process for delivering aid programs effectively that privileges a role for communication as an integral part of the program cycle, as opposed to using communication exclusively as a function of agency brand positioning or to disseminate results at the beginning and end of a program.7 CAD, or “communicating about results”, is at the heart of the mandate of most aid OECD DevCom8 ministry/agency communicators, and constitutes a core aspect of the accountability relationship. It aims at strengthening donor accountability towards stakeholders external to the agency: key high-level policymakers, parliaments, and the public. In some OECD countries, aid ministries and agencies deploy part of their communication “about results” strategically (for instance to position themselves in relation to other government departments for policy purposes on issues such as agriculture, trade, or the environment) as well as tactically (for instance to ring-fence scarce budgetary resources). In the UK, for example, aid agency advisers are becoming increasingly concerned by an oft-repeated message being communicated by the Government that while the country will stick to its commitment to spend 0.7% of its GDP on development financing, it is increasingly defining “aid” more flexibly and harnessing the aid budget – traditionally owned by the Department for International Development (DFID) – to address other foreign policy concerns, such as trade, defense, and security. A more extreme version of this message is that DFID itself needs to be re-absorbed by the Foreign and Commonwealth Office. This was actually the case in Australia. Accompanying the sizeable reduction in the country’s aid budget referred to in the introduction to this chapter, the aid agency AusAID was dissolved and absorbed into the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade in 2013. Similar processes can be observed among other OECD donor countries. In 2013, Canada’s aid budget took a significant hit and the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA) was absorbed into Foreign Affairs. In Sweden, concerns continue to be expressed about the Government’s decision to divert sizeable aid funding to pay for the welcome and upkeep of incoming migrants.9 This decision is seen to pose a threat to the effectiveness, some say existence, of the Swedish International Development Cooperation Agency (SIDA), known for some of the most progressive and innovative internal and external results communication in recent years (cf. OECD 2014a; OECD 2014b).

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The push for results communication In this context, where a concern with addressing strategic and tactical concerns through CAD may be distracting attention from C4D, what should communicating results consist of ? The Paris Declaration (2005) was instrumental in spelling out the need to focus on development results. The emphasis on the connection between communicating results and sustaining or increasing aid levels was deepened by the Accra Agenda for Action (2008) which stated that “attention will also be paid to improving and developing communications on aid effectiveness for long-term development success and broad-based public support”.10 As a result of these high-level mandates, DAC peer reviews11 now routinely include a section on communication. In the 2007 OECD Development Cooperation Report, for example, former DAC Chair Richard Manning highlighted investments in delivering, measuring and communicating the results of aid-financed activity as one of 12 key lessons from said reviews. Donor countries have fully internalised the message that “public awareness of, and support for, development co-operation is fundamental. Peer reviews demonstrate that strong public support is the best guarantee of political and legislative support for strong and dynamic national development programmes.” (Manning 2008, 39). As the calls for deeper partnership between developed and developing countries have intensified, the importance of results communication to doing good as well as looking good has been increasingly reflected in global spaces and initiatives – for instance the Busan Partnership for Effective Development Cooperation (2012), which aims “to foster engagement, communication and knowledge sharing among the many varied development actors” (cited in Barla 2013). As the world grapples with new ways of solving old development problems, the emphasis on communicating results has intensified. This has recently been reflected in the 2015 Financing for Development conference where non-aid financing (from developing countries’ domestic tax and revenues from extractive industries, to the reversal of illicit financial flows) emerged as a central theme of the “Addis Ababa Action Agenda”,12 and where the “post-aid” discourse became more visible. Although there was no formal discussion in Addis Ababa on better ways of communicating results, the link between recipient country results and non-aid resources occupied much of the corridor discussion, as well as civil society-led panels on how to increase domestic tax revenues and illicit financial flows. This clearly speaks to the growing primacy of a different set of results from the traditional, donor-led results.

From communicating the MDGs to communicating the SDGs The strength of the MDGs was that they served as an effective communication tool, an opportunity to “communicate about results” (da Costa 2009). Beyond public relations, the symbolism of the MDGs penetrated the consciousness and captured

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the imagination of the broader public, including politicians in donor countries. This was partly because the eight main Goals13 and their associated targets stressed the multi-dimensional nature of development, including social as well as economic dimensions of poverty. The MDGs are credited with being able to communicate development complexity to a broad audience (Van Norren 2012). Against the MDGs that preceded them, the SDGs provide an opportunity to reflect on previous achievements and shortcomings, and test new approaches to communicating development results. Current results communication mandates for agencies have in fact been substantially informed by what has been learned in the transition from the MDGs to the SDGs. Globescan, a consulting firm generating evidence on public sentiment, measured global awareness of the MDGs in 2007 – halfway through the 15-year period of implementation in which the world had agreed it would eradicate extreme poverty and hunger, achieve universal primary education, and reduce child mortality, among other goals.14 The exercise was repeated a year into the SDGs, with results showing that awareness of the new goals is significantly higher than the mid-point level of awareness of the MDGs. Nearly three out of ten people (30%) across 13 countries surveyed in 2016 reported having some or a lot of awareness of the new goals compared with 2007, when on average two out of ten people (20%) claimed only familiarity with the MDGs (Globescan 2016). The survey finds that awareness of the SDGs is particularly strong in emerging economies such as India, Indonesia and Kenya, where on average more than three out of ten people say the know about the goals. This is significantly higher than familiarity with the MDGs as measured in 2007 (Globescan 2016). Although increases in awareness have not been uniformly even across the world,15 in the majority of countries surveyed in 2007 and 2016, citizens appear to be more knowledgeable about the SDGs than they were about the MDGs. Indeed, Americans are among the most familiar with the SDGs, in contrast to previously low levels of familiarity with the MDGs in 2007 (Globescan 2016). So what do these numbers mean? The implication of the survey data is that the process of engaging and communicating the SDGs has been far more successful than that of communicating the MDGs. SDG communication has reached a large proportion of the global public much more quickly than with the MDGs campaign. Is this really because the SDGs have been better communicated in two years than the MDGs were in seven? Because the process of consultation for the SDGs was more far-reaching than that for the MDGs? Because the challenges facing the world in 2015 were of a higher order than the preoccupations of 2000, forcing citizens to be more aware? There may be an element of truth in each of these three reasons. Globescan 2016 argues that the SDGs’ emphasis on sustainable development appeals to a broader segment of world’s population because people in emerging countries are increasingly aspiring to a prosperous future that is at the same time sustainable.16 In addition to agreeing that the SDGs are “of the people, by the people and for the people”, the 189 member states of the United Nations also adopted specific targets on awareness-raising, education and access to information, which, when put together, constitute a “direct mandate for SDG communicators” (OECD 2016, 3).17

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The consensus among aid communicators seems to be that the SDGs hold significant potential as a framework for communicating global progress. “The good news is that the SDGs give us a powerful story to tell” is how one commentator put it (Zimmermann 2017). My view is that, while the SDGs introduce new opportunities to re-engage and re-define the practice of results communication, they also embody a number of contradictions, fault-lines and power asymmetries that can only be effectively addressed if there is sufficient political will to communicate for results, as opposed to solely about results. In other words, communication should be harnessed towards achieving the SDGs, not simply to disseminate success stories. Due attention to how to harness communication towards achieving the SDGs is especially important now that the global moment of euphoria experienced in September 2015, when world nations signed up to Agenda 2030, has been replaced with a soberer realisation of exactly what it will take to concretely operationalise the SDGs in developing as well as developed countries. This process of “domesticating” the “SDGs” is unfolding in a pre-existing “field of power” (da Costa 2011) in which, alongside the clamor for reducing aid dependence, developing countries are increasingly and consistently asserting national ownership and home-grown resources as the future engine of their progress. This is bringing to the fore new and emerging understandings of progress as “wealth creation” and not simply “poverty reduction” – as evidenced by the national and regional development strategies that spell out the visions and road maps for development planning and implementation in poorer countries. In the African context, the 55 member nations of the African Union have signed up to Agenda 2063, a continental blueprint for collective development progress that spells out a Pan-African vision of “the Africa We Want”. Efforts are underway to harmonise reporting frameworks and develop common indicators of progress for Agenda 2063, national development strategies and plans, as well as the SDGs. Although scepticism has been expressed as to the relevance of Agenda 2063 to the reality that Africans face, it speaks to the awareness that continental solidarity is needed to focus the world on how African realities are linked to global priorities. This raises questions about the nature, form and ownership of development results that put the spotlight back on the claims that the SDGs provide the ultimate opportunity to communicate results better, and thus increase the chances that substantial targets that form part of the Agenda could be achieved by 2030.

Challenges to communicating results in the SDG era The above discussion shows that while there are potential opportunities to re-frame and improve the way that development results are communicated, the emerging context simultaneously represents a formidable communication challenge. Among OECD DevCom members, there is a growing awareness that citizens from around the world need to be engaged, not only to secure buy-in and raise awareness regarding the SDGs, but also to ensure the Agenda has the best possible chance of being

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met. But what is it that agencies need to communicate to citizens and other stakeholders about the SDGs, and how can the SDGs serve to shape the ways in which this communication happens (OECD 2016)? The very nature of the SDGs raises fundamental challenges to communicators. First, the 17 SDGs are a sizeable set of interlinked, indivisible, interdependent, and long-term goals. This makes them difficult to break down into simple and compelling messages, particularly in the context of features of the emerging “post-aid regime” highlighted earlier: the threat of economic stagnation, the effects of climate change, the rise of extremism and intolerance, concerns over migration, and the growing inequality in income and opportunity within and between countries around the world. Second, the SDGs reflect the philosophical shift from “aid effectiveness” to “development effectiveness”, and with it from direct attribution to contribution. The discourse, if not the practice, has moved beyond a narrow obsession with “aid results” tied to a specific agency’s intervention, and is tending towards a more realistic, shared view of “development impact” as the result of collective action by a myriad of players – including partner country governments, aid donors, citizens, the private sector, and other stakeholders. This understanding of development as a shared enterprise is driving the need for a more humble and nuanced narrative about the role of foreign aid (OECD 2016). The Addis Ababa Agenda’s emphasis on domestic and other financing as the future driver for development in a world of diminishing aid puts pressure on traditional donors, who are facing intensifying pressure from their domestic stakeholders – media, politicians, and citizens – to demonstrate results as well as greater transparency and accountability. These pressures are manifesting themselves in diverse ways. In some cases, donor agencies have prioritised communication with donor public stakeholders such as parliamentarians, local communities, and the diaspora. In other cases, agency communicators have chosen to focus on flying the national flag in order to demonstrate value for money to taxpayers. DFID and its development of the “UKaid” branding is a case in point. In 2009, DFID analysed public opinion data on support for overseas aid and on that basis developed a detailed blueprint for changing public opinion, premised on the need in tough economic times to tell the story of development impact better (OECD 2014a). A significant talking point around the DFID strategy was the promotion of a new logo aimed at increasing the visibility of the UK government’s development work with the UK public. The objective was to build the UK public’s understanding of international development and provide reassurances about aid effectiveness. The brand is visualised by a royal insignia next to the words “UKaid”, in large letters, above “from the UK Department for International Development” in smaller type (ibid.). Albeit informed by a sophisticated exercise that included public opinion polling, audience segmentation and message development, this flag-flying, is considered by critics to reflect a retrogression in “communicating about results” – away from communicating collective endeavour and impact, to the “bad old days” of direct attribution.

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Third, and unlike their precursors, the SDGs are universal, applying to every one of the 189 countries that signed up to them in 2015, and requiring that progress happens – and is measurably verified as happening – globally. This universality implies a fundamental sea-change in the way that communicators engage with publics. It places the onus on all countries to build and sustain the political will required to tackle global public “bads” such as rising inequalities and guarantee the future sustainability of the planet. The problem here is that the language of interdependence seen in SDG-era narratives of development cooperation as a “win-win” and an opportunity to pursue “enlightened self-interest” (OECD 2016), serves to paper over cracks amidst real tensions between national interests and commitments to “global public goods”, or “global commons” (van Norren 2012). While expertise in how to communicate in a hostile aid environment18 may come in handy in trying to limit the fallout from these fault lines, the task of managing these tensions will inevitably challenge communicators further. Two years into Agenda 2030, the prevailing sense is that developed countries still see the SDGs as primarily a framework for delivering aid to less and least-developed countries (Zimmermann 2017). The expectation that the SDGs would mark a shift from “us helping them” to “all of us taking joint ownership of the world’s problems and solutions” (in OECD 2014a) must yet translate into reality. Indeed, a major critique of Agenda 2030 is that its very focus on universality fails to take into account how truly unequal the world is. A number of developing countries view SDGs as something of an imposition from above that exacerbates their planning and resource allocation constraints. To date, they have not seen the additional aid the SDGs were intended to unlock, and instead have to revert to their taxpayers to finance the cost of implementing priority SDGs, which puts even more pressure on already constrained resources. And citizens, although they support the SDGs and are aware of them, have not yet be sufficiently engaged, North or South, to “own” the goals and their potential. This somehow jars with the oft-repeated mantra that the SDGs involved much wider consultation with citizens than the MDGs,19 and the public opinion surveys that document the state of citizen knowledge and perceptions around the SDGs.20 This disconnect indicates that while there is clearly a “feel-good” factor associated with the SDGs, securing developed and developing country buy-in and commitment to actually deliver the goals remains a major challenge – not least from a communication standpoint – going forward. Furthermore, while there is an expectation that the SDGs will lead to new resources flowing into developing countries, there is also a realisation that these countries themselves will have to foot much of the bill for implementing those SDGs that they consider a domestic priority. The burden for this inevitably falls on the taxpayer, meaning that developing country governments will be obliged to justify to their citizens how tax revenues are being spent in delivering the SDGs alongside, or as part of, national development agendas, and in this way pushed yet again to prioritise CAD.

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Citizens are more likely to engage if they believe government duty bearers will be responsive to their concerns, and deliver better services. The reality is that despite the Globescan survey data, and heightened levels of participation in the UN High Level Political Forum in September 2017 where progress towards meeting the SDGs was assessed, the effort to engage developing country publics around the SDGs has barely begun. Until and unless this happens, there is no reason to expect countries, developed but more crucially developing, to be any more responsive to citizen demands for a better life than they have been to date. How to conceive of “communicating results” in developing countries is a crucial aspect of the future agenda yet to be engaged. Linked to this, the SDGs have been accompanied by a global movement that emphasises the importance of data for sustainable development. The Africa Data Consensus (2015) states: A sustained data revolution is needed to drive social, economic and structural transformation in every African country. Such a revolution will also make it easier to track our countries’ progress towards meeting national and globally agreed sustainable development goals, with a view to leave no one behind.21 The emphasis is first on delivering deeper, faster development, and secondly on measuring progress towards the desired end-state. Few developing countries, particularly the 34 of Africa’s 55 states that count among the world’s least developed (UNCTAD 2016), have the data ecosystem and infrastructure in place to ensure that “everyone that counts is counted and no one is left behind”. While contributing a detailed discussion of how this new “data revolution” clarion call is impacting on communication for development is not a goal of this chapter, it is important to note that efforts to promote big data and open data for development, underpinned as they are by technology, run the risk of reinforcing the very inequalities the SDGs were conceived of to eradicate. Despite these concerns, it is clear is that CAD will influence and inform the way that development institutions communicate in and around Agenda 2030. What remains to be seen whether, and to what extent, this emerging “post-aid regime” will create an enabling environment for C4D – communication as an enabler of development – whilst incubating innovations in CAD. An example of the degree of innovation and adaptation underway is discussed in the next section.

Adapting to a “radically unstable” results communication ecosystem For a number of reasons, the current results communication ecosystem can be described as being radically unstable. An important dimension of this instability is that the mainstream media, traditionally the primary conduit for communicating results, both in the developed and developing world, is being challenged by

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unsustainable business models for generating revenue, and threatened by the rise of communication facilitated by digital connectivity that is no longer mediated by gatekeepers. The crisis facing the mainstream media, coupled with the rapid advances in access to information and communication technologies, offer opportunities for citizens to tell their own stories – forcing intermediaries, whether agency communicators, media outlets, or public policy institutes (“think tanks”), to find new ways to communicate do-gooding as well as communicate in order to do good. This emerging landscape poses significant challenges to the way that development progress is currently communicated. Moreover, existing opportunities for beneficiaries to define their own vision of what progress means to them, as well as to share their stories, imply that they no longer need to have their stories appropriated and told by third parties. For example: Chief Francis Kariuki, a local government administrator from Lanet Umoja, a sub-location in Kenya, discovered that he could use Twitter to help address concerns in his community – including fighting crime. His tweets soon came to the attention of Nairobi-based NGOs working on citizen-generated data, who helped him conceive of a pilot in Lanet Umoja to gather data on SDG5, related to gender. Today, women in Lanet Umoja are generating data on their reality and their needs, and this data is being communicated to the world. As of 21 September 2017, Chief Kariuki (Twitter handle @Chiefkariuku), is being followed by 64,000 people. He reports receiving support for his community from around the world, and he has no need to work through the county or national government in Kenya – notwithstanding the fact he is a civil servant. In a context where centralised, aid-focused, supply-driven results communication is no longer sustainable or effective as a primary strategy of choice, turning challenges into opportunities implies that traditional notions of “development results” be critically assessed and interrogated. The advent of beneficiary-driven storytelling has major implications for intermediaries that until recent years operated as development knowledge brokers, whether development agencies or traditional news media. Chief Kariuki’s novel strategy challenges traditional approaches to CAD and suggests how C4D might look in the future. Ownership of “development results” has become more diffuse and distributed. Subjects of development are already telling their own stories, partly enabled by the spread of digital platforms and the resulting unmediated forms of C4D and CAD, including between world citizens in different locations. To date, donor agency communicators have responded by using mapping tools to identify these groups as a prelude to deploying tactics to communicate to them and/or seeking to capture their voices in order to have them relayed to other stakeholders, such as donor publics. For the most part, while many of these efforts have pushed the boundaries of innovation in results communication, they have tended to essentialise the voices of the poor and, however inadvertently, go against their power and agency. In such a scenario, the whole notion of results – whose results matter, for whom, and who should rightfully communicate them – is open to question.

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The writing is already on the wall for professional communicators that they are no longer the sole or primary determinants of the development narrative. One communication and policy expert assesses that this is already a reality: “The development agencies have already lost control of the narrative. The smartest development communicators have already adopted storytelling approaches in their results communication to give life to the big numbers to which audiences often struggle to relate” (Zimmermann 2017). Implied in this assessment is a recognition that storytelling is emerging as a new tactic of choice in communicating “numbers”, or quantitative results. However, in a new conception of “development results”, it is much more likely that different kinds of results, expressed in diverse ways, will be communicated by a number of different actors.

To conclude: reclaiming C4D and CAD in a post-aid regime This chapter has sought to stimulate thinking in and around the question of whether communication and development scholars and practitioners should still care about communicating development results in a “post-aid regime”. I want to end by expanding on three arguments. First, my firm belief is that theoretically as well as in practice, CAD and C4D have more in common than would appear to be the case. Theoretically, the two approaches are contiguous as opposed to on opposite sides of the disciplinary fence. In practice, while development agencies may devote the lion’s share of their energies and resources into communicating to look good or to be seen to be doing good (CAD), many of these same resources, if harnessed in a strategic enough manner, can also help ensure that good is done, and with the greatest impact possible (C4D). Fortunately, there exists enough evidence that, beyond the outliers such as the Food and Agriculture Organisation (FAO) and UN Children’s Fund (UNICEF) that have practiced C4D as well as CAD for decades, other agencies are recognizing that the way they harness communication must change as the world changes around them. Traditional communicators have indeed lost control of the development narrative, and this is a good thing. Second, and linked to the above, the advent of a “post-aid” discourse has unleashed a more diverse range of voices around the kinds of results that need to be communicated. On the one hand the SDGs provide a new opportunity to communicate what is essentially an old-sounding, traditional development consensus – the imperative of leaving no one behind, making sure that everyone that counts is counted, etc. On the other, new messages are emerging, on the need for self-reliance, for developing country governments to take the lead in financing their own development, to focus on socio-economic transformation and wealth creation as opposed to merely reducing poverty, and so on. This speaks to a change in the power dynamics as agency shifts towards the Global South, and countries that were once defined primarily by their ability to receive and absorb aid assume control of defining their own development trajectory, as well as the means of getting there.

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Third, in the near-term, the focus of these Southern governments will largely be on communicating their own results. In doing so, they will inevitably adopt, adapt and replicate the old modes of communication to look good (CAD). This mirrors the way aid agency communicators, realizing the train has left the station, have sought to innovate from within the existing results communication paradigm – if only to succeed in further objectifying the poor in the process of capturing and giving platforms to subaltern voices. However, this is already changing, as what I have described as the radical instability of the results communication ecosystem gives rise to further democratisation of voice within the Global South itself, whether intended or not. What I have just described amounts to a plethora of opportunities for citizens and previously marginalised groups to tell their own stories. However they choose to define progress, they can communicate their own results on their own terms, and speak directly to whoever they want. Beyond storytelling, they can also directly shape what kind of development they aspire to. As the example of the tweeting Chief Kariuki shows, communities can harness communication as a means of delivering deeper, faster, and better development outcomes that they themselves define. Simply put, we are already in the era of communicating to do good.

Notes 1 E.g. the symposium “Focus on Africa: Rethinking Aid Effectiveness and Development Partnerships” held with support from the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA) in May 2008. See www.sfu.ca/continuing-studies/about/program-units/ community-education-program/projects/past-projects/rethinking-aid-effectivenessand-development-partnerships.html and http://archive.upcoming.org/event/focus-onafrica-rethinking-aid-effectiveness-and-development-partnerships-day-1–525081 [accessed 10 October 2017]. 2 www.orfonline.org/expert-speak-category/post-aid-world/ 3 Karen Kandie, “Obama’s post-aid legacy for Africa”, The Star 19 January 2017. www.the-star.co.ke/news/2017/01/19/obamas-post-aid-legacy-for-africa_c1489996. K.Y. Amoako, “Transformational change? Time will tell”, Wilson Quarterly website, Winter 2016. https://wilsonquarterly.com/quarterly/the-post-obama-world/transformationalchange-time-will-tell/ 5 This relationship, it is argued, should move beyond humanitarian assistance and focus on advancing three dimensions: Australia’s significant commercial (mainly mining) interests in Africa; national security issues related to transnational threats such as terrorism; and engagement with African governments on the US-China rivalry and its implications for Africa as well as Australia. www.policyforum.net/engaging-with-africa-in-a-post-aidera/ 6 To this end, and in previous work (da Costa 2011), I have theorised an “African development regime”, a complex apparatus defined as “an institutionalised configuration of power within a [...] system ideologically committed to progress that draws its material sustenance from the conduct of development” (Ludden 1992, 251–2). 7 See Figure 1 in page 8 of da Costa (2008) for a graphical representation of how the two concepts fit in with RBM and MfDR. 8 The OECD Development Communication Network (DevCom) is an international platform that “brings together communications and public affairs managers from government institutions, development agencies and multilateral organisations, as well as partners from civil society, philanthropy, the private sector and the communications industry”. See DevCom brochure at www.oecd.org/development/pgd/devcom.htm [accessed 10 October 2017].

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9 http://sverigesradio.se/sida/artikel.aspx?programid=2054&artikel=6284322 [accessed 5 April 2018]. 10 Paragraph 30, footnote 4 of the Accra Agenda for Action (AAA). 11 DAC peer reviews “provide in-depth examinations of development systems and policies, including lessons learned, in all DAC member countries”. Each DAC member country is peer reviewed approximately every five years to help the country understand where it could improve its development strategy and structures (and thus increase the effectiveness of its investment), and to identify and share good practice in development policy and strategy. See www.oecd.org/dac/peer-reviews/ [accessed 10 October 2017]. 12 The Addis Ababa Action Agenda is a global framework for financing development post2015 endorsed by the UN General Assembly in July 2015, prior to the adoption of Agenda 2030. 13 Reducing poverty and hunger; achieving universal education; advancing gender equality; improving child health; improving maternal health; fighting HIV/AIDS; achieving environmental sustainability; and building global partnership. 14 Also see Eurobarometer: http://ec.europa.eu/commfrontoffice/publicopinion/archives/ ebs/ebs_405_en.pdf 15 Globescan (2016) finds that that in China and Germany awareness of the SDGs in 2016 was actually lower than that of the MDGs in 2007. In China, familiarity with the MDGs in 2007 was twice as high as with the SDGs in 2016 (ibid.). 16 As the study concludes: “Protecting the planet while improving the lives of those living in poverty and inequality is an aspiration that large swaths of the population everywhere can stand behind, and one that governments, companies, NGOs and multilateral organisations can align with the public around” (ibid). 17 These are identified as SDG Target 4.7, which sees all learners acquiring the knowledge and skills needed to promote sustainable development and global citizenship; Targets 12.8 and 13.3, which call for public awareness and education to promote sustainable consumption and production, and climate change; and Targets 16.6 and 16.10, which require countries to establish accountable and transparent institutions, and to ensure public access to information (OECD 2016). 18 See for instance Megan Lloyd-Laney (2011), who has developed a concise and useful toolkit for communicating with sceptical audiences, which prioritises identifying and understanding the different audiences as an important first step, crafting messages (bearing in mind that scepticism is not static over time), delivering messages in a variety of ways likely to resonate with different audience segments, and assessing impact. 19 For instance, and as at June 2017, some 10 million people had participated in the MyWorld Survey, identifying issues that mattered most to them. The Survey is often cited as evidence of widespread consultation in the run-up to designing the SDGs. See “MyWorld UN Global Survey for a Better World”. 20 For an excellent compilation of survey data on citizen awareness about the SDGs, see “What people Know and Think About the Sustainable Development Goals – Selected Findings from Public Opinion Surveys Compiled by the OECD DevCom Network” (OECD DevCom 2017). 21 The African agenda is well articulated in the Africa Data Consensus, accessible at www. uneca.org/sites/default/files/PageAttachments/final_adc_-_english.pdf. The “Data for SDGs” agenda is being championed by the Global Partnership for Sustainable Development Data (GPSDD), see www.data4sdgs.org/.

References Barla, M. (2013). “How does the OECD comprehend C4D in its organization and policy? Organization analysis out of a C4D perspective.” www.academia.edu/5295665/How_does_ the_OECD_comprehend_C4D_in_its_organization_and_policy._Organization_analysis_ out_of_a_C4D_perspective

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da Costa, P. (2011). “Rule of experts? Decomposing agency and agendas in Africa’s development regime.” PhD Thesis, School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London, London, February 2011. http://eprints.soas.ac.uk/19538/ ——— (2009). “Study on communicating development results.” Commissioned by the OECD DAC Development Cooperation Directorate and Informal Network of OECD Development Communicators, Paris, 18 May 2009. www.oecd.org/development/pgd/41933372.pdf ——— (2008). “Managing for and communicating development results.” Background Paper Commissioned by the Informal Network of OECD Development Communicators, Paris, February 2009. www.comminit.com/en/node/295005 Glennie, J. (2008). The trouble with aid: Why less could mean more for Africa, Zed Books, London. Globescan (2016). “Awareness of the SDGs vs MDGs: How engaged are global citizens?” Presentation at OECD DevCom Annual Meeting, 9 November 2016. www.oecd.org/ dev/pgd/Session4_Bouhana_GlobeScan_OECDTalk_MDGsvsSDGs_2016.pdf Hem, Thore G. and A. Nygaard (2012), “The Need for Re-Thinking Development in a New Era in the Quest for ‘Good Practice in Communicating Development Results’”. Think Piece submitted for the IDB/DevCom Seminar Communicating Development Results, Washington D.C., United States, 23-24 April 2012. www.btcctb.org/files/web/ BLOG_OF_BTC/MC_Boeve/Submitted Think Pieces Washington Seminar.pdf. Ludden, D. (1992). ‘India’s Development Regime’, in Dirks, N. (ed). Colonialism and Culture. Ann Arbor. University of Michigan press. Manning, R. (2008). “Development co-operation report 2007: Efforts and policies of the members of the development assistance committee,” in OECD Journal on Development, OECD, Paris. Moyo, D. (2009). Dead aid: Why aid is not working for Africa and there is another way, Penguin Books, London. Ngomba, T. (2013). “What is ‘development’ for?” Media Development 60(3): 29–33. OECD (2017). “What People Know and Think about the Sustainable Development Goals. Selected Findings from Public Opinion Surveys Compiled by the OECD Development Communication Network”. OECD DevCom, June 2017. https://www.oecd.org/ development/pgd/International_Survey_Data_DevCom_June%202017.pdf ——— (2016) “Towards a DevCom peer learning hub for SDG communicators.” Discussion Note, DevCom Annual Meeting, 9–10 November 2016. www.oecd.org/dev/pgd/ DiscussionNote2016.pdf ——— (2014a). Good practices in development communication, OECD/DevCom, Paris. www. oecd.org/dev/DevCom%20Publication%20Good%20Practices%20in%20Development% 20Communication.pdf ——— (2014b). Engaging with the public: 12 lessons from DAC peer reviews and the network of DAC development communicators, OECD, Paris. www.oecd.org/dac/peer-reviews/12%20 Lessons%20Engaging%20with%20the%20public.pdf ——— (2011). Communicating with skeptical audiences: A toolkit, by Megan Lloyd-Laney. UNCTAD (2016). Trade and development report, 2016: Structural transformation for inclusive and sustained growth, United Nations, Geneva. http://unctad.org/en/PublicationsLibrary/ tdr2016_en.pdf Van Norren, D. E. (2012). “The wheel of development: The Millennium Development Goals as a communication and development tool.” Third World Quarterly 33(5): 825–36. Zimmermann, F. (2017). Author Skype interview with Coordinator of Informal Network of OECD Development Communicators, Nairobi and Paris, 24 August 2017.

EPILOGUE What’s bad about “looking good”? Can it be done better? Silvio Waisbord

This book is a welcome addition to the literature on international aid and communication for global development and social change. It deals with the tension between “doing good” and “looking good”, a question that became hugely important as the aid industry set its horizons on the 2030 Sustainable Development Goals. Each chapter provides instructional, nuanced views of the complex tug of war between impression management and programmatic objectives. Altogether, the volume offers a comprehensive and original examination of a multi-faceted issue. “Looking good” prioritises the cultivation of the “organizational brand” by using the standard toolkit of the reputation industry – logos, images, advertising, events, and press releases. Its mission is to trumpet the successes of programs. From donors to technical agencies to implementing organisations, all are eager to demonstrate achievements to multiple stakeholders – legislators, citizens, partners, and the media. It is woven into the fabric of aid bureaucracies – from office décor showing “dedicated” Westerners helping non-Westerners, to promotional materials stamped with alphabet soups of institutional logos. It materialises in media appearances by officials and spokespersons. It is expressed in the growing obsession with “celebrity aid” intended to steer the media spotlight to specific issues and agencies (Richey 2015). In sum, “looking good” penetrates every organisation in the aid chain and is ubiquitous in the aid industry (Erickson 2014). But it would be mistaken to understand “looking good” simply as a set of persuasion efforts to cement a favourable public reputation. Rather, it reflects central dynamics in the performance of development aid – how programmatic and funding priorities are established, what is favourably viewed, and what gets rewarded. What drives this process? Reasons vary across aid organisations. Government funders want to remind legislators and taxpayers about the uses of public funding. Private donors intend to leave their public mark on specific programs. Government and intra-government technical agencies are expected to demonstrate achievements

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to funders and other constituencies. Faced with the constant need to raise funding, implementing organisations must give visibility to their work. All actors need to bring attention to their work in a crowded, chaotic landscape of organisations, programs, and priorities. Gaining visibility is mandatory in order to build “symbolic capital,” as Scott, Wright, and Bunce put it in their chapter. From media appearances to public meetings, every opportunity counts to make an impression. Cheerleading is intrinsic to the tireless task of raising profile and money. The “looking good” mindset is not unique to the aid industry. The aid industry channels the core principles of the contemporary promotional culture that infuse every corner of contemporary societies – branding, packaging, and messaging. This is another manifestation of the privatisation of aid. Public relations and adjacent “reputation” industries continue to grow as governments and businesses seek to stand out, build image, take attention away from inconvenient facts, and weather communication crises. The voracious appetite for public visibility also reflects the mediatisation of contemporary life – the encroachment of media principles and biases in the functioning of social institutions. Media logics have conquered everything – from politics to religion. Therefore, it should not be surprising that they have also penetrated international aid, particularly considering the linkages between reputation, fundraising, and media attention. The aid industry dedicates much time and effort to gain visibility in the news (Jones 2017). Anyone who has worked in external communication in the aid industry knows that getting precious minutes of airtime in popular television networks or front-page coverage in leading newspapers is considered a smashing success (Waisbord 2011). The obsession with media attention is eloquently demonstrated by Enghel in her chapter. Aid organisations are in constant search of media-friendly content for news, documentaries, headlines, and long-format stories. No opportunity to put on a positive spin on programs should be missed. The book de-naturalises the aid industry’s impression management and tells us that we should not take it as a logical result. No doubt, the “looking good” mindset is central to any industry. The aid industry, however, is not like other industries. Informing about programs designed and funded to improve the lives of communities around the world is not like selling travel, hotel accommodations, or cars. Sure, corporate advertising peddles images of paradisiacal beaches, smiling hotel staff, and new automobiles in empty roadways rather than informing about polluted coastlines, labour exploitation, and the environmental nightmare of the car culture. Aid organisations, however, should not engage in crass, one-sided persuasion to court admiration, money, and political support, nor misuse humane values such as care, solidarity, and empathy, to tug hearts in search of publicity. Commercial publicity should not be the source of inspiration for public engagement. The aid industry should be held to different standards and expectations. Values such as information, transparency, and accountability need to guide communication with multiple publics. What happens when reputation building becomes common currency? Does the obsession with “looking good” overshadow the commitment to yielding positive

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results? Is it mere window dressing linked solely to organisational needs? Does image-building take attention away from other work? Does it translate into doing good or doing better?

Troubling ideological foundations There is something jarring about the juxtaposition of aid programs concerned with promoting social wellbeing and justice with endless streams of messages touting deeds and achievements. In efforts to look good, billions of people who are otherwise invisible in the Western imagination appear as thankful, happy, hopeful individuals. “Looking good” smacks of self-serving actions intended to validate, strengthen, and uphold organisations over people. It comes across as thinly-veiled attempts to build the reputation of donors, technical agencies and implementing organisations as “saviors of the world” (Bell 2013), while sidelining communities as the true protagonists of social change. It turns an endeavour committed to alleviating human misery into “development” porn – a series of imperfect, keyhole views into how the bottom billion lives. It catapults (mostly) Westerners as fighters for the betterment of others. It builds off the “white man’s burden” trope with unmistakable undertones of racial superiority and paternalism. It feeds on “development fatigue” by delivering simplistic, slogan-friendly, camera-ready views of social change cooked up in global headquarters with little connection to the reality of “doing good”. Also, “looking good” distorts a central mission of development aid – fostering social justice – and tends to make development aid indistinguishable from charity. The aid industry is torn in many directions and goals – from geopolitics to humanitarianism. Yet what should be clear is that it is not a charitable mega-institution, even if charity organisations occasionally take part with aid agencies on various initiatives. In Nelson Mandela’s memorable words, “Overcoming poverty is not a task of charity, it is an act of justice”. Social justice is not benevolence or alms; it is a matter of rights. To say it tersely, development can be defined in many ways, but it should not be confused with charity. Many organisations are conscious of this distinction, as they try hard to explain why their work should not be confused with religious, secular, or humanitarian charity. They choose to see their action as a matter of equal partnerships and locally driven change, and espouse the diagnosis that power inequalities explain global exclusion and misery. Yet those well-intended positions get lost in a sea of feel-good discourse imbued by a vision of charity – donate to do good. Even rhetoric that conveys equality and ground level actions, as Wilson convincingly shows in his chapter, gets appropriated by traditional ways of understanding development. Another problem is that “looking good” makes it seem as if celebrity activism is central to development and social change, a subject that Kogen discusses in her chapter. One can certainly flat out reject celebrity development as nothing but the insufferable marriage of rich ego-trippers and institutions desperately seeking attention. An alternative is to take a pragmatic attitude and consider the possibility

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that celebrities, in certain conditions, may help to bolster public understanding of social change and give temporary visibility to people made invisible by global capitalism and forgotten by the media. Confusing development with charity and celebrity aid sets the wrong narrative. It perpetuates development as a Western story and casts the Global South as secondary characters. It suitably dismisses the fact that social change demands wrestling power, redistributing resources and priorities, and tackling long-standing inequalities. The complexity of change is ignored for the sake of public consumption. A soaring rhetoric of humanitarian narratives is intertwined with mundane expediency and competition for attention and resources. The challenge is to figure out how to present a nuanced narrative about development aid and social justice. Certainly, in today’s chaotic communication landscape, there is no shortage of personal and collective stories about social change. The narratives about human development go beyond the disciplined efforts of aid organisations to “look good”. Aid organisations need to put the spotlight on those narratives with the same verve as they toot their successes. Foregrounding citizens’ voices and stories about problems and actions should be prioritised over hawking advertising copy straight out the production desk of “Hallmark” and charitable organisations.

The organisational effects of prioritizing “looking good” Besides troubling ideological underpinnings, “looking good” has deleterious effects on the work of communication offices. The aid industry’s romance with “looking good” further confuses misperceptions about the meaning of communication for development and social change. It perpetuates the informational view of communication as impression management. It mistakes communication for journalism, public relations, advertising, and marketing. It leaves aside communication interventions aimed at addressing social obstacles to change – from power inequalities to negative social norms. It equates communication with “products” (e.g. videos, news stories) and publicity events (e.g. celebrity tours, high-profile meetings). In their chapter, Ramírez and Quarry call our attention to the fact that “The reality is that communication covers a wide spectrum of different communication functions depending on purposes or needs, moving from public relations to information to participation”. Unlike concepts such as “the Pope” or “the Pentagon”, communication lacks a single meaning. It is semantically complex; it beautifully evokes ideals of dialogue, community, and understanding. Inside aid organisations, however, it is often associated with pedestrian actions such as media relations and dissemination materials. Anyone who has worked on “communication” in the aid industry is familiar with this problem. Despite constant efforts to educate higherups about the many dimensions of communication, narrow conceptions still prevail. From the standpoint of organisational benefits – what communication immediately brings to aid agencies, “looking good” has significant advantages over program communication. It brings public visibility and media mentions. It delivers

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immediate, tangible metrics: country directors meet authorities, celebrities wear institutional logos, news clippings feature activities and achievements, t-shirts are distributed, and, yes, posters hang on walls. Instead, program communication often happens in relative obscurity, away from the glare of international summits and television cameras. It wrestles with more difficult and intangible problems: Empowerment, social norms, behaviour change, service quality, stigma, and attitudes. None of these issues can be addressed swiftly. Interventions do not typically deliver predictable results for quarterly reports, as the chapter by Noske-Turner, Tacchi, and Pavarala shows. Not surprisingly, then, offices responsible for making aid organisations “look good”, such as External Relations and others with similar names, get the longer end of the stick. They are more likely to get attention and resources than offices tasked with “doing good”. “Doing good” is sacrificed, as argued by Wilkins in her chapter. “Program communication” officers are often assigned to support promotional activities rather than to focus on social change. Publicity takes priority over poverty. The rush to “look good” explains why managers with power to define organisational charts and earmark resources tend to view communication primarily as a set of strategic instruments to enhance institutional reputation. Ironically, such decisions do not seem to be grounded on sophisticated impact metrics, even at a time when evidence-based decision-making has gained holy status in international aid. Rather, support for “looking good” appears to be based on the perception that image management supremely matters. The reason is arguably simple: why wouldn’t top managers believe that publicity is essential to running a successful, well-resourced organisation in promotion-saturated societies? No need to be presented with impeccable data to be convinced that image management is necessary to obtain attention and funding.

Seeking alternatives Excessive attention to “looking good” won’t go away or be transformed overnight. Built-in dynamics continue to drive the need for constant publicity. The book does not urge the aid industry to abandon “looking good” completely, promptly dismantle media relations offices, cancel celebrity tours, and stop distributing t-shirts. Rather, it makes an argument for the aid industry to take a critical, reflective position in relation and offers ideas to rethink conventional approaches. One simple recommendation is that it is necessary to reorient priorities for communication work in the aid industry. Public engagement should not be made synonymous with conventional notions of public relations. Only then, as da Costa proposes in his chapter, could communication be understood as central for achieving results rather than simply telling results. Also, the ideological baggage of impression management needs to be critically examined and eventually overhauled. The recommendations offered in this respect are fairly straightforward: get rid of the savior complex, do not patronise, make sure to bolster people’s stories, explain why populations are socially excluded, listen

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to how change happens, educate publics about how they can contribute to social change beyond making donations, and appeal to empathy and solidarity rather than to sympathy and compassion. The book leaves us with important questions for further discussion and study. One set of questions is about the institutional balance between “looking good” and “doing good”. Is it possible for persuasion and communication to receive equal prominence (read: resources)? Is lavishing attention on “looking good” necessarily detrimental to social change? Does the obsession with reputation stand in the way of “doing better”? Is it a zero-sum game? We do not yet have good answers to these questions or foolproof ideas to strengthen the position of communication for social change. A second set of questions deals with revamping efforts to “look good”. One possibility is to rethink “impression management” from a perspective focused on fostering “organisational transparency” (Hansen and Flyverbom 2014) in the aid industry. Transparency and accountability initiatives (TAI) in development aid have received growing attention in recent years (McGee 2013). As a set of communication goals and actions, TAIs are premised on democratic notions of participation, public visibility, and responsiveness. It should be obvious that TAIs and “looking good” are at loggerheads. The latter is about tactics intended to offer one-sided, partial information to build reputation. It reflects ideological convictions and aspirations rather than the whole complexity of aid. Instead, TAIs intend to enhance the responsibility of international aid towards stakeholders and to promote public access to development organisations. This approach foregrounds ideas such as citizen monitoring, access to information, and legal empowerment. So, is it possible to reframe “looking good” from a perspective of open communication? A third set of questions refers to the need to document and analyse virtuous examples of public engagement grounded in the idea of “inclusive aid” (Groves and Hinton 2013). Where are those cases? How can aid organisations do public outreach while following the principles of inclusion, respect, and equality? Can public engagement be something other than a self-serving exercise of institutional legitimation and moral preening? Can it consist of self-effacing actions that bring ordinary communities to the centre? With what consequences? What are examples of successful, inclusive storytelling? In summary, this book lays out a critical, ambitious, and necessary agenda that, hopefully, will inform future debates and research.

References Bell, K. M. (2013). “Raising Africa? Celebrity and the rhetoric of the white saviour.” Journal of Multidisciplinary International Studies 10: 1–24. Erickson, J. L. (2014). “Saving face, looking good, and building international reputation in East and West, power in a complex global system,” in Pauly, L. W., Jentleson, B. W. (eds.), Power in a complex global system (pp. 180–93), Routledge, London.

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Groves, L. and Hinton, R. (eds.) (2013). Inclusive aid: Changing power and relationships in international development, Earthscan, London. Hansen, H. K. and Flyverbom, M. (2014). “The politics of transparency and the calibration of knowledge in the digital age.” Organization 22: 872–89. Jones, B. (2017). “Looking good: Mediatisation and international NGOs.” The European Journal of Development Research 29: 176–91. McGee, R. (2013). “The impact and effectiveness of transparency and accountability initiatives aid transparency and accountability: ‘Build it and they’ll come’?” Development Policy Review 31: 107–24. Richey, L. A. (ed.) (2015). Celebrity humanitarianism and North-South relations: Politics, place and power, Routledge, London. Waisbord, S. (2011). “Can NGOs change the news?” International Journal of Communication 5: 142–65.

INDEX

Numbers in bold refers to tables, numbers in italic refers to figures in the book. accountability 4, 14, 76, 175; C4D and 103; doing well and 78; donor 33; journalism role in promoting 52; with multiple publics 171; results communication and 156, 157, 162; social justice and 80; Videoletters Project 32; visibility and 8 Accra Agenda for Action 159 Addis Ababa Action Agenda 159, 162, 168n12 advocacy communication 110 agency, human 5, 125 Agenda 2030 see Sustainable Development Goals agenda setting 51–2, 70, 76 aid effectiveness 4, 58, 156–62 aid industry 47, 52, 170–5 alternative development theories 62, 69 Amanpour, Christiane 125, 129 Assam, India 143–6 attribution and contribution 12, 79, 112, 115, 156, 162; aggregate 157 audiences 1–2, 9–14, 73, 100–11, 118–32: target 48, 52–3, 139–40; mass 59, 73; maximization of reach of 49–51; research on 142, 144, 147; Western/ donor constituencies as 25, 32, 170, 172, 173 AusAID/Australian Aid 153, 158 autonomy 6, 53, 99, 114 Avian Influenza 114 awareness-raising 61, 71–2, 128, 130

Balkans 9, 21–5, 27, 30, 32 behaviour change communication 101, 107, 137, 174 Bethlehem 84–6, 85–8, 89, 92 Bosnia-Herzegovina Television (BHT) 21, 29 branding: imperative for 82; political economy of place in donor 81–2 Brighenti, A. 8–9 British Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO) 24, 31 broadcasters 23, 25, 27, 40–1, 127 Browne, H. 41, 42 budgets 11, 26, 45, 50, 77, 100, 108, 110–11, 138, 153, 158 Busan Partnership for Effective Development Cooperation 159 C4D see communication for development C4D practice 6, 99–101, 115n1 CAD (communication about development) 4–5; communicating for and about results and 157–8; in post-aid regime 166–7 campaigns 44, 47, 77, 79–80, 100, 105, 110–12, 144 Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA) 158 Canadian International Development Research Centre (IDRC) 12, 13, 137–9 capacity building 70–1; mentoring for 147–8 celebrity communication about development 11, 118–19, 172–3;

178

Index

framework for ethical celebrity communication about development 130–2; introduction to 118–19; reductionist representations in 121–2 censorship 41–2, 52 charity 10, 13, 58, 60–2, 65–6, 68–73, 172–3 citizens: benefits to 76, 78, 81–2; of donor countries 4, 32, 92; of host countries 80; local/of recipient countries 25, 48, 48–50; reconciliation among 9, 22, 23; rights of 1–2, 12; of successor states 26–7, 31–2; trust of 83 civil society 119, 125, 131–2, 159, 167n8 clients 107, 110, 111 climate change 40, 154, 162 Clooney, George 11, 118–23, 132 communicating do-gooding 25 communication for development (C4D) 1, 3–4, 11, 135, 137, 140, 157, 173; “clients” of 110–11; communicating for and about results and 157–8; and historical associations with media 109–10; institutional histories overview and 105–8, 106; in post-aid regime 166–7; results and visibility of 111–13; UNICEF organisational structure and 101–2; theorizing across 3–5; communicating for and about results 157–8; doing/looking good in 7; hybridity and 7–8; participatory see participatory communication; practice turn in 5–6; visibility and 8–9 communication to do good 2, 9, 13, 22, 24–5, 32, 58, 114 communication units 106, 108, 138–40 community engagement 100, 105, 109–10, 112 complexity: communicating of 121, 173, 175; of contexts/causes 40, 119 conflict 11, 22–4, 30–1, 85, 126, 129 contexts: historical 104–5, 109; national 99, 107; perceptions shaped by 59; transnational 82 Cooper, Anderson 126, 129 corporate communication 135, 137–8 Cottle, S. 44, 49 critical discourse analysis (CDA) 122–3 Dead Aid: Why aid is not working and why there is a better way for Africa 153 DECI1 (Developing Evaluation Capacity in Information Society Research) 139–41, 143, 147–8 DECI-2 (Developing Evaluation Capacity in Information Society Research) 140–8

decision makers/policy makers 11, 48, 100, 109, 111–15, 136–7 Department for International Development (DFID), UK 158, 162 dependence 25, 161, 163 Developing Evaluation Capacity in Information and Communication for Development (DECI) project 137; hybrid decision-making framework as methodology 140–3, 142; institutional context 137–40; mobile application in health services, Assam, India 143–6; practical wisdom and 138, 142, 142–3; reconciling participatory communication and public relations 146–8 development agencies 76, 78, 80–1, 93, 112, 135–6, 165–6 Development Assistance Committee (DAC) 83 development communication see communication for development development discourses 80–1, 105 development: branding 82–3; definition of 2; doing of 76–7; effectiveness of 162; good 62–9, 63 dialogue 5, 28, 48, 78, 80, 110, 173 dichotomy 146–8 do good/doing good 7, 76; ability to do good 101; alternative development theories 62, 69; branding and 82; communication to 2, 9, 13, 22, 24–5, 32, 58, 114; as development intervention 78–80; ought to do 127; philanthrojournalism and 40–2; public service journalism 40; Scotland Malawi Partnership (SMP) 58–9, 73; by supporting humanitarian news 40–2; Videoletters Project and 24–8, 31–2 documentary-making for social change 21–32 doing well 76, 78 donations 43, 59, 65–6, 69, 77, 120, 131, 175 donor accountability 33, 76, 78, 80 donor agencies 76, 82–3, 92, 162 donor branding: political economy of place in 81–2; in the West Bank 83–92, 85–91 donor countries 158; citizens as focus in 32; growing pressure on 154; informing citizens of 4; mediation and 24–5; politics of place in 92; public awareness and 159–60; tax-paying constituencies 25 donor plaques 10, 76, 82, 83, 85, 89, 91–2 donor-driven communication and projects 3, 12, 14n10, 27, 31, 33

Index

donor-recipient hierarchy 69–72 dual nature of development communication 1–3, 22 Dutch Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA) 24; public relations and 28–9 effectiveness 4, 58, 156–9, 162 enlightened self-interest 163 ethics 7–8, 12–13, 32, 43, 76, 93, 119 evaluation 135; of 101, 103, 112–15; Developing Evaluation Capacity in Information and Communication for Development (DECI) project 137–40; hybrid decision-making framework as methodology in 140–3; mobile application in health services case study 143–6; reconciling participatory communication and PR in 146–8, Videoletters and 30; doing well and 78–80 evidence 11, 26, 32, 41–2, 49–53, 59, 65, 100 failure 10, 31–2, 58, 79, 136 feel good and visibility 111–12 Financial Times 51 Food and Agriculture Organisation (FAO) 4, 166 foreign policy 120–1, 153, 158 foreigners, identity of 70, 72, 80 Fox News Sunday 120, 127, 129 funding 121, 137, 144, 147, 158, 170; bilateral 26, 82; financial dependence 50; institutional politics and 140; for participatory approaches 115; philanthropic 39–40 fundraising 64, 65, 68–9, 121, 171; of C4D components 115 Gaza see West Bank, the gender 80, 102, 165 German Corporation for International Cooperation (GIZ) 83–4, 90, 91 Glasgow Volunteers International (GVI) 62, 67–72 Global North 118, 119, 122, 132; discourses of inequality and inefficacy in 123–30 global public goods 163 Global South 41, 92, 122, 123, 132, 166; confusing development with charity and 173; discourses of inequality and inefficacy in 123–30; post-aid regime and 154 good development 62–9, 63 governments, local 100, 112, 115, 144, 146, 165

179

Hebron 10, 76, 82, 84, 86, 88–90, 89–91, 92 humanitarian news see philanthro-journalism humanitarianism 51, 53; celebrity 121–2 hybrid decision-making framework 140–3, 142 hybrid practices/hybridity 7–8, 12 impact 10, 12–13, 48, 62, 122, 131, 137, 143, 147, 166; data revolution 164; development 162; grant-funding tied to 42; on policymakers 52; in post-aid regime 154; results communication and 156–7 impression management 174–5 inefficacy, discourses of 123–6 inequality 8, 72, 122; discourses of 126–30 information and communication technology for development (ICTD) 143–4 Information Society Innovation Fund Asia (ISIF) 143–4 institutional histories: C4D and 109–10; map of 106; overview 105–8, 106; workshop on 104 institutions 7, 25, 67, 70, 79, 99–100, 164 International Development Research Centre (IDRC) 137–40; hybrid decisionmaking framework as methodology and 140–3, 142; practical wisdom and 138, 142, 142–3 International Documentary Film Festival Amsterdam (IDFA) 23, 29 International Herald Tribune 29, 30 (in)visibility 8–9 IRIN 13, 54–5; as case study 43–4; causes of changes to journalism of 49–53; change in journalism at 45, 45–9, 47, 48; changes in target audiences 52–3; emphasis on maximizing audience reach 49–51; introduction to 39–40; journalistic values 51, 53; prioritisation of some public service values of 48, 48–9; public service commitment 46–8, 47, 51–2; quantity, length, and format of outputs of 45, 45–6; satisfying multiple agendas and negotiating competing field logics 51; study methodology 44–5 Japan International Cooperation Agency (JICA) 83–4, 90 Jho Low, Taek 39–40, 44, 51, 52, 53 Jolie, Angelina 11, 118–23, 132; discourses of inequality and inefficacy 123–30; framework for ethical celebrity communication about development and 131–2 journalistic values 51, 53

180

Index

journalists 42–3, 46–53; Western 21 justice 2, 22, 172; see also social justice Jynwel Foundation 10, 39–40, 54–5; causes of changes at IRIN and 49–51; changes at IRIN and 43–4; changes in target audiences and 52; disruptive philanthropy and 52; journalistic values and 53 Kellner, D. 121, 132 knowledge sharing 138, 147, 159 Kremer, M. 78–9 Larry King Live 128, 129 listening 105, 136–7, 140, 146–8 Lloyd-Laney, Megan 168n18 local citizens 48, 48–50 local governments 100, 112, 115, 144, 146, 165 long-term impacts 70, 79, 126–7, 130, 136, 156–7, 159, 162 looking good 7, 76; as charity 172–3; development discourses in 80–1; expectations for 73; to mass audiences 59, 73; meaning in private context 59–61; meaning in public context 59–61; misunderstandings about 170–1; obsession with 171–2; organisational effects of prioritizing 173–4; to people of Scotland 66; philanthro-journalism and 42–3, 54–5; pressures for C4D 109–13; reputation and 25; Scotland Malawi Partnership (SMP) 58–9, 73; seeking alternatives to 174–5; as self-serving 172; by supporting humanitarian news 42–3; symbolic capital and 42–3; troubling ideological foundations with 172–3; Videoletters Project and 28–31; see also visibility Malawi see Scotland Malawi Partnership (SMP) managing for development results (MfDR) 157; see also results-based management (RBM) mass audiences 59, 73 mass media 105–6, 109, 111, 119 MaTo group 68–9 McConnell, Jack 59, 60 measurable results 102, 111–12, 114 media assistance 1, 9, 22–3, 34n2 media coverage 61, 83, 90, 100–1, 105–6; C4D and 109–11; public relations and positive 28–9 Media Task Force of the Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe 23, 34n4 mediatisation 171

mentoring for capacity development in evaluation and communication 147–8 Millennium Development Goals (MDGs) 62, 155; communicating SDGs and 159–61 mobile application in health services, Assam, India 143–6 Morris, N. 3, 8 multi-lateral organisations 136, 167n8 Mzungu 71–2 narratives: around foreign aid 162–3; C4D 99, 103; civil society 61; confusing 173; development 166; historical 123, 132; in post-aid regime 154; in selection and articulation of problems 80; SMP 61, 69; Videoletters Project 26, 30–3 national contexts 99, 107 Nazdeek 144–6, 149n6 Netherlands, the 9, 22–7, 35n20 New York Times, The 29, 32, 44 news/media coverage 61, 83, 90, 100–1, 105–6; C4D and 109–11; mass media 105–6, 109, 111, 119; public relations and positive 28–9 nongovernmental organisations (NGOs) 42–3, 64–5, 92, 100; celebrity diplomacy addressing 131–2; mobile application in health services, Assam, India 144–5 Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) 4–5, 8, 14n10, 59, 62, 83; C4D 158; communicating for and about results and 157; Development Assistance Committee (DAC) 157, 168n11; Development Communication Network (DevCom) 161, 167n8; Development Cooperation Report 159; on development effectiveness 156; post-aid regime and 154 organisational effects of prioritizing looking good 173–4 organisational structures 13, 101, 105, 147 Overseas Development Institute (ODI) 43, 44 Pajhra 144–6 Palestine see West Bank, the Palestinian Authority 77, 80–1, 84 Paris Declaration on Aid Effectiveness 4, 159; see also aid effectiveness participatory communication 8, 12, 112, 137; clarity regarding intent in 146–7; conclusions on 148–9; Developing Evaluation Capacity in Information and Communication

Index

for Development (DECI) project and 137–43; hybrid decision-making framework as methodology for 140–3, 142; introduction to 135–7; mentoring for capacity development in evaluation and communication 147–8; mobile application in health services, Assam, India 143–6; organisational, project, and individual capabilities in 147; practical wisdom and 138, 142, 142–3; reconciling public relations and 146–8; repositioning communication in 148; in institutions 112–13 partnership: capacity building in 70–1; Mzungu and 71–2; performing 64–6; principles of 63, 63–4; public and private 68–9; resilience of donorrecipient hierarchy and 69–72; why organisations claim to pursue 66–8; see also Scotland Malawi Partnership (SMP) paternalistic organisations 65, 67–8, 70 performance (of development) 64–6 performers, practitioners as 59 philanthro-capitalism 42, 51–2, 80 philanthro-journalism 10, 54–5; “doing good” by supporting humanitarian news 40–2; introduction to 39–40; IRIN case study see IRIN; “looking good” by supporting humanitarian news 42–3 phronesis see practical wisdom place: political economy of 81–2; politics of 92–3 plaques, donor 10, 76, 82, 83, 85, 89, 91–2 policy makers/decision makers 11, 48, 100, 109, 111–15, 136–7 post-aid world: communicating for and about results 156–8; definition of 154–5; reclaiming C4D and CAD in 166–7 practical wisdom 138; as a way of thinking 142, 142–3, 147 practice turn 5–6 private sector 1, 153, 162, 167n8 program communication 106–7, 173–4 promotional purposes 2, 28 protest 84, 92 public opinion 3, 120, 156; on international development 162–3 public relations 12, 99; reconciling participatory communication and 146–8; Videoletters Project 28–9 public service values, prioritisation of 48, 48–9; changes in 51–2

181

publicity 7, 171; celebrity diplomacy and 127, 132; promoting development 1; Videoletters Project 27, 28, 31, 33, 34n7 quality 6, 11–13, 45, 174 Quarry, Wendy 140, 146 Rai, M. 44, 49 raising of awareness see awareness raising Ramírez, Ricardo 139, 141, 146 RBM see results-based management (RBM) recipient countries 4, 15n14, 25, 31, 33, 34n13, 81, 138 recipient governments 154 reconciliation 9, 21–8, 30–2 reductionist representations of development 121–2 reputation management 25, 170 research communication (ResCom)138, 140–1, 144, 146 resilience of donor-recipient hierarchy 69–72 results communication: for and about results 157–8; challenges to SDG era 161–4; push for 159 results, measurable 102, 111–12, 114 results-based management (RBM) 136, 157 Said, E. 122, 124 Schech, S. 62, 66 Scotland Malawi Partnership (SMP) 10; context of 59–61; criteria of “good development” 63, 63–4; good development and 62–9, 63; introduction to 58–9; Mzungu and 71–2; Partnership Principles 63, 63–4; performing partnership 64–6; public and private partnerships 68–9; resilience of donorrecipient hierarchy and 69–72; self-censorship 41–2, 52 Silverstone, Roger 24, 25 simplicity 49, 64, 120, 121, 172 social justice 78, 80, 93, 172–3 see also justice solutions 121–2, 126, 130–2 spectacles 76, 92–3, 121, 132 St Peter’s Secondary School 62, 65, 66 staff recruitment 46, 101, 109, 114 stereotypes of developing countries 71, 119, 122, 130 Stewart, J. 82–3 storytelling 33, 165–7, 175 success 136, 156, 159–61, 170–1

182

Index

Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) 2, 12, 58–9, 62, 69, 154–5, 161, 168n17, 170; challenges to communicating results in era of 161–4; communicating MDGs and 159–60 Swedish International Development Cooperation Agency (SIDA) 83–4, 86, 88, 89, 89; communicating for and about results 158 symbolic capital 42–3 tangible outcomes 11, 71, 112 target audiences, changes in 52–3 taxpayers see citizens tea garden workers 144–6 Temporary International Presence in Hebron (TIPH) 88–9 “theorizing across” 3 Thomas, P. N. 148, 149n7 transparency 52, 162, 171, 175 transparency and accountability initiatives (TAI) 175 t-shirts 101, 111, 113–14, 174 United Kingdom, the 9, 26; Department for International Development (DFID) 158, 162; see also Scotland Malawi Partnership (SMP) United Nations 85; Agenda for Sustainable Development see Sustainable Development Goals; Development Programme (UNDP) 4; Goodwill Ambassadors program 120; High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) 119; Inter-Agency Round Table on Communication for Development 4, 135, 137; Messenger of Peace 119; MDGs see Millennium Development Goals; Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) 10, 39, 45, 46–7, 50, 52, 54; SDGs see Sustainable Development Goals United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) 4, 11, 166; institution-wide change between 2008 and 2011 108; organisational structure overview

101–2; overcoming issues of visibility 113–14; overview of institutional histories and 105–8, 106; pressures for C4D to look good and 109–13; study methodology 102–4, 104; see also C4D (communication for development) United States Agency for International Development (USAID) 82, 83–90, 85–7, 91 United States, the 26, 122–7, 132 upstream programs 107–8, 111 Utilisation Focused Evaluation (UFE) 139, 142, 144, 146, 148 values, journalistic 51, 53 van de Fliert, E. 148, 149n7 van Lieshout, P. 78–9 victims 119, 121, 123, 124–6, 131 Videoletters Project 8, 9–10; academic embrace of 31, 35n20; beneficiaries 34n13; doing good 26–8; looking good 28–31; in a nutshell 23–4; positive news coverage from public relations events 28–9; simple idea and 30–1; reconciliation and 22–4; reconnect motto 33, 34n1; visibility and 31–2 visibility 8–9; appetite for public 171; C4D results and 112–13; feel good and 111–12; overcoming issues of 113–14; Videoletters Project 31–2; see also looking good voice 92, 128, 154, 165–7, 173 volunteering 62, 64, 67 voluntourism 67 Went, R. 78–9 West Bank, the 10–11; concerns in context 82–3; context of 77; donor branding in 83–92, 85–91; introduction to 76–8; political economy of place in donor branding in 81–2; politics of place in 92–3 Western Balkans 9, 21–5, 27, 30, 32 Wilkins, Karin 5, 7 Williams, Raymond 7, 25 Zaveri, Sonal 143–4