Handbook of Civil Society and Social Movements in Small States 9781032377148, 9781032377155, 9781003341536

Table of contents :
Cover
Half Title
Series Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Table of Contents
List of illustrations
The editors and contributors
List of abbreviations and acronyms
Introduction: Civil society and social movements in small states
PART I: Environmental issues
1. Civil society and the pursuit of sustainable tourism in the small island jurisdiction of Tobago
2. Engagement of civic organizations in environmental policies in Cabo Verde
3. Network governance and the role of environmental non-governmental organizations in Belize
4. Environmental protest in Malta during the COVID-19 pandemic
5. The politics of land, space, social movements and identity in Jamaica’s Cockpit Country
6. Deep-sea mining in Pacific small island developing states: The role of civil society organizations
7. A post-eruption analysis of the significance and challenges of communitybased disaster risk management in Saint Vincent and the Grenadines
PART II: Social issues
8. Civil society, the state and the LGBTQIA+ movement: The case of Trinidad and Tobago and Mauritius
9. Weaving ‘culture’ and political advocacy in a small island nation: Samoa Fa’afafine Association and non-heteronormative Samoans
10. The role of civil society actors in responding to gender-based violence in Seychelles
11. The Refugee and Migrant Response Plan in the Caribbean Sub-Region: Emerging patterns and lessons for small state civil society in global migration governance
12. Shrinking spaces for migrant-support CSOs in Malta, Cyprus and Slovenia: From the refugee crisis to the pandemic
13. The role of churches in regional cooperation and governance in the Caribbean
14. Information and communication technologies as a catalyst for social activism and ‘bottom-up’ regionalism in the Pacific
15. The dilemmas of civil society and social movements in a rapidly growing economy: Botswana
PART III: Political issues
16. Estonian protest waves: Groups involved and motivating issues
17. The strength of civil society in Slovenia after three decades of post-communist experience
18. The role of civil society in Montenegro’s European Union accession process
19. The democratic potential of politically and socially oriented CSOs: The case of North Macedonia
20. How civil society organizations brought change to the Maltese government between 2019 and 2020
21. Explosion of anger on the streets of Mauritius: The overhauling of a political system?
22. Significant regional social movements in Oceania
23. Nostalgia for the future: Student activism of the Caribbean Left
24. Unfrozen conflicts: Social movements and civil society in Cyprus
Index

Citation preview

Handbook of Civil Society and Social Movements in Small States

This volume is unique because of its focus on small states. There are many studies on civil society and social movements, but none that specifically deal with this category of countries. As is well known, small states have particular characteristics, including a limited ability to reap the benefits of economies of scale, a high degree of exposure to forces outside their control, and the proximity of politicians to the voters, often leading to clientelistic relationships and patronage networks. The small island developing states have the additional problem of high environmental vulnerability, with some also dealing with disproportionate ecological footprints. These factors have a bearing on the organization and performance of civil society organizations and social movements, as explained in several chapters of this book. The volume is organized in three parts, dealing with aspects of civil society and social moments in small states in the political, social and environmental spheres, respectively. Various definitions of civil society are proposed in the chapters, but most authors associate the term with organized groups, operating in the interest of citizens, independently of government and commercial business, including various forms of non-governmental organizations (NGOs). Civil society also encompasses social movements, which are considered to be loosely organized collective campaigns in pursuit of social goals. These two terms are sometimes used interchangeably; however, some authors argue that social movements tend to engage in ‘contentious politics’ including protests, while NGOs engage through more organized and institutional routes. Lino Briguglio is a Professor of Economics and a member of the board of the Islands and Small States at the University of Malta. He has authored several publications on small states. Michael Briguglio is a senior lecturer in the Department of Sociology at the University of Malta. He has published various scholarly works on environmental sociology, social movements and politics. Sheila Bunwaree is a scholar-activist with two decades of teaching and research experience. She has published extensively in the field of gender, governance and development. Claire Slatter is a retired academic and an active scholar-activist. She taught politics at the University of the South Pacific, and ethics at Fiji National University. She is a founding member of the global South feminist network of scholar-activists, Development Alternatives with Women for a New Era (DAWN).

Europa International Perspectives Providing in-depth analysis with a global reach, this series from Europa examines a wide range of contemporary political, economic, developmental and social issues in international perspective. Intended to complement the Europa Regional Surveys of the World series and The Europa Directory of International Organizations, Europa International Perspectives will be an invaluable resource for academics, students, researchers, policymakers, business people and anyone with an interest in current world affairs with an emphasis on international organizations and issues. While The Europa World Year Book and its associated Europa Regional Surveys inform on and analyse contemporary economic, political and social developments, the Editors considered the need for more in-depth volumes written or edited by specialists in their field, in order to delve into particular regional situations. Volumes in the series are not constrained by any particular template, but may explore recent political, economic, regional and international relations, social, defence, or other issues in order to increase knowledge.

Viral Sovereignty and the Political Economy of Pandemics What Explains How Countries Handle Outbreaks? Sophal Ear Handbook of Regional Conflict Resolution Initiatives in the Global South Jerónimo Delgado-Caicedo Handbook of Civil Society and Social Movements in Small States Edited by Lino Briguglio, Michael Briguglio, Sheila Bunwaree and Claire Slatter

Handbook of Civil Society and Social Movements in Small States

Edited by Lino Briguglio, Michael Briguglio, Sheila Bunwaree and Claire Slatter

Cover image: © Shutterstock First published 2023 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2023 selection and editorial matter, Lino Briguglio, Michael Briguglio, Sheila Bunwaree and Claire Slatter; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Lino Briguglio, Michael Briguglio, Sheila Bunwaree and Claire Slatter 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 ISBN: 978-1-032-37714-8 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-032-37715-5 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-34153-6 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9781003341536 Typeset in Bembo by Taylor & Francis Books

Contents

List of illustrations The editors and contributors List of abbreviations and acronyms Introduction: Civil society and social movements in small states Lino Briguglio, Michael Briguglio, Sheila Bunwaree and and Claire Slatter

viii x xvii 1

PART I

Environmental issues 1 Civil society and the pursuit of sustainable tourism in the small island jurisdiction of Tobago Acolla Lewis-Cameron and Tenisha Brown-Williams 2 Engagement of civic organizations in environmental policies in Cabo Verde José Maria Gomes Lopes 3 Network governance and the role of environmental non-governmental organizations in Belize Ruth Gutierrez-Corley, Allanson Cruickshank and Stefano Moncada 4 Environmental protest in Malta during the COVID-19 pandemic Michael Briguglio

11

13

26

46

62

5 The politics of land, space, social movements and identity in Jamaica’s Cockpit Country Jordan K. Williams

74

6 Deep-sea mining in Pacific small island developing states: The role of civil society organizations Viliame Kasanawaqa, Asinate Namuaira and Solo Mara

93

Contents

7 A post-eruption analysis of the significance and challenges of communitybased disaster risk management in Saint Vincent and the Grenadines Allanson Cruickshank, Rose-Ann Smith, Sanya Compton and Aria Laidlow

105

PART II

Social issues

121

8 Civil society, the state and the LGBTQIA+ movement: The case of Trinidad and Tobago and Mauritius Andel Andrew, Lue Anda Francis-Blackman and Nandini Tanya Lallmon

123

9 Weaving ‘culture’ and political advocacy in a small island nation: Samoa Fa’afafine Association and non-heteronormative Samoans Yoko Kanemasu and Asenati Liki

138

10 The role of civil society actors in responding to gender-based violence in Seychelles Diana Benoit 11 The Refugee and Migrant Response Plan in the Caribbean Sub-Region: Emerging patterns and lessons for small state civil society in global migration governance Lara-Zuzan Golesorkhi

151

162

12 Shrinking spaces for migrant-support CSOs in Malta, Cyprus and Slovenia: From the refugee crisis to the pandemic Dominik Kalweit and William Grech

174

13 The role of churches in regional cooperation and governance in the Caribbean Jessica Byron and Annita Montoute

189

14 Information and communication technologies as a catalyst for social activism and ‘bottom-up’ regionalism in the Pacific Jason Titifanue and Romitesh Kant

204

15 The dilemmas of civil society and social movements in a rapidly growing economy: Botswana David Sebudubudu and Patrick Molutsi

219

vi

Contents

PART III

Political issues

233

16 Estonian protest waves: Groups involved and motivating issues Katrin Uba

235

17 The strength of civil society in Slovenia after three decades of post-communist experience Tatjana Rakar and Tomaž Deželan

248

18 The role of civil society in Montenegro’s European Union accession process Igor Lukšic´ and Aleksandar Andrija Pejovic´

262

19 The democratic potential of politically and socially oriented CSOs: The case of North Macedonia Milka Ivanovska Hadjievska

274

20 How civil society organizations brought change to the Maltese government between 2019 and 2020 Mario Thomas Vassallo, Jean Claude Cachia and André P. DeBattista

288

21 Explosion of anger on the streets of Mauritius: The overhauling of a political system? Sheila Bunwaree

302

22 Significant regional social movements in Oceania Vijay Naidu and Claire Slatter

314

23 Nostalgia for the future: Student activism of the Caribbean Left Amílcar Peter Sanatan

332

24 Unfrozen conflicts: Social movements and civil society in Cyprus Michalis Moutselos

344

Index

357

vii

Illustrations

Figures 2.1 2.2 2.3 4.1 4.2 4.3 4.4 4.5 4.6 4.7 5.1 7.1 16.1 16.2 16.3 17.1 17.2 17.3 17.4 17.5 17.6 17.7 17.8 19.1 19.2 19.3 19.4 19.5

19.6

Extent of ECSOs’ cooperation with the central government The influence of ECSOs on PANA II ECSOs’ influence on specific environmental policies, programmes or legislation Specific issues leading to environmental protests Organizers of environmental protests in Malta, 2020 Moviment Graffitti environmental protest networks, 2020 FAA’s environmental protest networks, 2020 Extinction Rebellion Malta’s environmental protest networks, 2020 The Maltese farmers’ environmental protest networks, 2020 Protest issues in Malta, 2020 Reference map of Jamaica Map of the area of study The annual number of protest events and average protest size The main issues raised by protests during the course of three decades The main issues raised by protests over the course of three decades The increase in the number of CSOs in Slovenia between 1965 and 2020* CSOs’ primary fields of activity Share of civil society sector employees in the labour force Main sources of funding for Slovenian CSOs, 2022 Percentage of CSOs invited to cooperate by national and local governments The extent of CSOs’ willingness to engage with the authorities The overall influence of civil society on policymaking in Slovenia How would you describe the relationship between the state and civil society in Slovenia? Respondent CSOs (%) classified by annual budget size Distribution of different types of CSOs per primary area of geographical operation (%) The share of CSOs in which members make authoritative decisions in key areas of governance (%) Ways in which members participate in decision-making across CSO types (%) Importance assigned to the participation by members in CSOs’ activities (averages on a Likert scale ranging from 1 to 5, where 5 shows the highest importance) The share of CSOs engaged in outsider and insider strategies of influence (%)

38 40 40 65 66 67 68 69 69 70 76 106 240 242 244 250 252 253 254 256 257 257 258 279 280 281 281

282 283

List of illustrations

Tables 2.1 2.2 2.3 2.4 2.5 2.6 2.7 2.8 2.9 3.1 7.1 7.2 15.1 15.2 18.1 18.2 19.1 20.1 20.2 20.3

ECSOs’ access to political authorities (17 responses out of 19) ECSOs’ alliance partnership The conservation, protection and sustainable development frame The environmental injustice frame Funds transferred to local associations by the DGASP (figures in Cabo Verde escudos) Significance of partners’ donations on ECSOs’ project implementation Linkages between the government and ECSOs ECSOs’ strategies and activities for engagement List of ECSOs interviewed Summary of participants, types of ENGO and their conservation goals Summary of the organizational features of the four CBOs representing civil society Meeting frequency of CBOs Estimated number of CSOs in Botswana, 2021 NGOs Policy objectives, challenges, interventions and expected outcomes, 2012 Participatory model of CSOs in candidate countries Participatory model of CSOs in former candidate countries Core organizational resources and age of each type of CSO (averages) Mass mobilization by CSOs (2019–2020) Effect of actions by CSOs Levels of trust and scepticism

30 32 33 34 36 36 37 38 42 52 110 112 225 229 267 268 279 295 298 298

Box 7.1

Breakdown in the relationship of groups and NEMO following the eruption of the Soufrière volcano

114

ix

The Editors and Contributors

Andel Andrew is an International Relations, Communications and Research professional. He holds a BSc in Political Science, International Relations and Communication Studies and an MSc in Global Studies from the University of the West Indies, St. Augustine, Trinidad and Tobago. His Master’s research paper focused on ‘The Use of Social Media in Public Diplomacy Efforts of CARICOM’, which provided the impetus for him to attain specialized certification in E-Diplomacy and Public Diplomacy from the DiploFoundation. He is an independent researcher, and his research interests are the LGBT community in Trinidad and Tobago and the wider Commonwealth Caribbean; voting behaviour and political culture; public and digital diplomacy in the Caribbean. Diana Benoit is the Director of the James R. Mancham Peace and Diplomacy Research Institute at the University of Seychelles which is an academic research institute that focuses on eastern Africa and the western Indian Ocean region. She is a founding member of the Institute and, and her research interests are gender-related violence, civil society, political transitions, transitional justice, and the health-peace nexus. She is a PhD candidate at the Durban University of Technology in South Africa focussing on the cycle of intergenerational trauma, psychosocial healing and reconciliation among Seychellois families affected by the 1977 coup in Seychelles. Lino Briguglio is Professor of Economics and a member of the board of the Islands and Small States Institute of the University of Malta. He obtained his PhD from the University of Exeter, UK. He is renowned internationally for his publications on the economic vulnerability of small states. He has also pioneered work on the measurement of economic resilience. He has acted as a consultant to various international organizations on matters relating to small states. He served as lead author for the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) for the third, fourth and fifth assessment reports. Michael Briguglio has a Doctorate in Sociology and is a senior lecturer in the Department of Sociology at the University of Malta. He has published various scholarly books and articles, and his main research interests are environmental sociology, social movements and politics. Dr Briguglio is a board member of Research Network 25 - Social Movements of the European Sociological Association, and a convenor of the Works in Progress Seminar Series at the University of Malta. He is a founding member of the Malta Sociological Association where he currently serves as Public Relations Officer. Tenisha Brown-Williams holds a BSc in Tourism and Hospitality Management (Honours), an MSc in Tourism Development and Management (with Distinction) from the University of

List of contributors

the West Indies (UWI) and is currently completing her PhD in Governance at the Sir Arthur Lewis Institute for Social and Economic Studies, UWI, St. Augustine. Tenisha Brown-Williams has been lecturing to hospitality and tourism students for over a decade and has also worked in the Caribbean tourism sector in product development, sustainable tourism and tourism quality assurance. Her research interests extend to tourism governance, the tourism sharing economy, tourism education and tourism recovery and resilience. Sheila Bunwaree, PhD, LLB, is a scholar-activist, social scientist and feminist, with a passion for environmental protection and social justice. She has more than two decades of teaching and research experience. Sheila Bunwaree was also the first SSR Chair of African Studies at the University of Mauritius. She is currently a consultant for several regional and international organizations, working particularly in the field of governance, development and sustainability. Jessica Byron was formerly Director of the Institute of International Relations at the University of the West Indies (UWI), St. Augustine. Previously she lectured at the UWI at Mona, Jamaica, and at the International Institute of Social Studies, Erasmus University, Netherlands. She has been a Foreign Service Officer with the Government of Saint Kitts and Nevis and the Organization of Eastern Caribbean States. She serves on the International Affairs Committee of the World Council of Churches. Professor Byron has published extensively on CaribbeanLatin American international relations and on small states and territories in the multilateral system and global political economy. Jean Claude Cachia is a senior lecturer at the Institute for European Studies at the University of Malta. He was awarded a PhD from the University of Lincoln, UK, in 2015. His main research interests are Europeanization, political parties, European security and small states. Sanya Compton is a PhD candidate at the University of the West Indies at Cave Hill, Barbados. Compton possesses a wealth of knowledge in the areas of marine science and policy. She recently returned to the Caribbean after spending over a decade in the United States studying, researching and working in the marine and environmental science fields. Her current research and related project-work activities are focused on marine and ocean governance in the wider Caribbean region. Sanya Compton’s portfolio also includes work and research in areas such as social impacts assessments, sustainable development, and youth and gender empowerment. Allanson Cruickshank, who hails from Eastern Caribbean state of Saint Vincent and the Grenadines is a PhD candidate at the Islands and Small States Institute, University of Malta. His PhD research focuses on volcanic risk reduction in small island developing states. He has interests and professional experience in spatial planning, project management, natural resource management, education and renewable energy. His research interests include volcanic risk reduction, disaster risk management, and climate change adaptation and mitigation. Allanson Cruickshank is the managing director of A.M.A. Consulting SVG. André P. DeBattista is a political scientist, lecturer and columnist. In 2013 he conducted research for the Governance and Institutional Development Division of the Commonwealth Secretariat, London, UK. In 2020 he was appointed as a resident academic at the Institute for European Studies at the University of Malta. In 2022 he was appointed Research Associate at the Wilfried Martens Centre for European Studies in Brussels, Belgium, following his term as Visiting Fellow (2021–2022). xi

List of contributors

Tomaž Deželan is Professor of Political Science in the Faculty of Social Sciences, University of Ljubljana and Assistant Secretary-General of the same university. His recent research covers citizenship of young people, political participation of youth, political institutions and youth, youth representation, quality of youth work, youth programme evaluation, youth and political parties, and citizenship education. He coordinated many European Union (EU) and national research projects on youth, citizenship education and political participation. His publications include peer-reviewed articles in international journals, chapters in edited volumes and authored or co-authored scientific monographs. He acts as an expert/consultant/policy adviser to several national governments and international organizations. Lue Anda Francis-Blackman holds an LLB (Hons), an LPC (Distinction) and an LLM (Distinction) as well as a BSc (Hons) from Grambling State University, USA, and an MA in Political Science (Hons) from Louisiana State University, USA. She lectures at the University of the West Indies, St. Augustine, in the Department of Political Science. Her research interests include governance, state capacity, civil society, public policy, LGBT child custody and family law as well as LGBT civil activism and the law in Trinidad and Tobago. She is an MPhil candidate in the Department of Political Science at the University of the West Indies, St. Augustine. Her MPhil topic is ‘State Capacity and Civil Society Participation’. Lara-Zuzan Golesorkhi is an Assistant Professor of Political Science and Global Affairs and the Co-Director of the Gender, Women, and Sexuality Studies Program at the University of Portland, USA. Her work is concerned with issues that pertain to the intersection of migration and gender in a global context. Lara-Zuzan Golesorkhi is also the Founder, Executive Director and Advocacy Director at the Center for Migration, Gender, and Justice (CMGJ). In her various capacities at CMGJ, Golesorkhi has contributed to the organization’s vision of gender justice beyond borders by shrinking spaces between migrant communities and governing bodies across institutional levels. William Grech is the Executive Director of the Maltese non-profit organization Kopin (VO/ 0200). He is also a Research Support Officer at the Islands and Small States Institute of the University of Malta. William Grech holds a Master’s degree in European Politics, Economics and Law from the University of Malta, and has been working in the fields of international development cooperation, global education and migration since 2002. He is also the Chairperson of SKOP—the National Platform of Maltese Development NGOs and is the National Focal Point for AidWatch. Ruth Gutierrez-Corley is a PhD candidate in islands and small developing states studies at the University of Malta under the auspices of the Islands and Small States Institute. She has an interdisciplinary background and work experience in the field of aquaculture, natural and marine resources management and science. She is the chair of the policy and advocacy committee for the Commonwealth Youth Climate Change Network. She was the co-founder of the non-governmental organization (NGO) ‘Building Belizean Livelihoods and Environment (B-BLUE)’ in 2019 and the youth organization ‘Independence Youth Action Movement (I-YAM)’ in 2015. Milka Ivanovska Hadjievska is a Postdoctoral Fellow in the Political Science Department at Lund University, Sweden. She holds a PhD in Politics from the University of Exeter. The bulk of her research focuses on the legal regulation, governance and leadership of civil society xii

List of contributors

organizations in Europe. Her research has appeared in social science journals such as Political Studies, the Journal of Civil Society and Voluntary Sector Review. Dominik Kalweit is the Vice Executive Director and Director for Projects & Initiatives of the Maltese NGO Kopin (VO/0200). He is also a Research Support Officer at the Islands and Small States Institute of the University of Malta. Dominik Kalweit holds a Diplom degree (ISCED 7) in Political Science and Communication Sciences from the University of Augsburg, Germany, and has been working in the fields of international development cooperation, global education and migration since 2005. He is active in, inter alia, Destination Unknown, AidWatch, the Malta Refugee Council and the ‘Free the #ElHiblu3’ campaign. Yoko Kanemasu is an Associate Professor in Sociology at the University of the South Pacific, Fiji, where she teaches social theory, feminism, social policy and research methodology. Her research areas include gender, sexuality, sport, identity, migration, tourism and the politics of representation. She takes a particular interest in the political and social agency of women and non-heteronormative Pacific Islanders, which she studies in the context of sports in Fiji, Samoa, Solomon Islands and Vanuatu as well as the fa’afafine movement in Samoa. Romitesh Kant is a PhD candidate at the College of Asia and the Pacific at the Australian National University. He is also an honorary research associate with the Institute of Human Security and Social Change at La Trobe University, Australia. His research on politics, human rights and social media has been published in Pacific Journalism Review, Asia and Pacific Policy Review, Media International Australia, Contemporary Pacific and the Journal of South Pacific Law. Viliame Kasanawaqa’s academic qualifications include an MSc focusing on project management and the built environment from the University of Newcastle, Australia. He currently works on Fiji’s National Infrastructure Investment Plan. He is an experienced consultant on various matters including the energy industry, and is a skilled operations manager. Aria Laidlow-Ferdinand possesses an MSc in Environmental Change and Management from the University of Oxford, UK, and a BSc (with first-class honours) with majors in Environmental Natural Resource Management and Geography from the University of the West Indies, St. Augustine. She lectures in Green Engineering at the SVG Community College. She is the disaster preparedness Desk Officer for Saint Vincent and the Grenadines through the World Bank and the Caribbean Disaster Emergency Management Agency. Aria Laidlow-Ferdinand has worked and researched in various capacities in the fields of climate and disaster risk financing, disaster preparedness and response and environmental management. Nandini Tanya Lallmon is a research scholar at the University of Malta, where she is developing methodologies to bridge the gap between policy and practice pertaining to LGBTQI+ rights. Appointed as African Youth Charter Hustler for Mauritius by the African Union Office of the Youth Envoy, she fosters the active appropriation by LGBTQIA+ youth of their rights by adopting a decolonial perspective on SOGIESC. As part of the Youth Sounding Board at the European Commission for International Partnerships, she empowers marginalized youth through access to learning, dialogue and development spaces that are diverse, inclusive and transformative. Acolla Lewis-Cameron is currently Dean of the Faculty of Social Sciences at the University of the West Indies, St. Augustine. Her educational achievements include an MSc in Hospitality xiii

List of contributors

and Tourism Education from the University of Surrey, UK, and a PhD in Tourism from Brunel University, UK. She is the lead editor of Marketing Island Destinations: Concepts and Cases and Managing Crises in Tourism: Resilience Strategies from the Caribbean and co-author of Caribbean Tourism: Concepts and Cases. Asenati Liki is a cultural and population geographer with extensive research experience in development, gender and social change in the Pacific. She received her PhD from the University of Hawai’i at Ma-noa, and currently works as a senior researcher at Sustineo, a research consulting firm based in Canberra, Australia. José Maria Gomes Lopes is Professor of Business English and Research methodology at the Higher Institute of Business and Economic Sciences, Mindelo, Cabo Verde. He also teaches Public Policy Design at the University of Santiago, Praia, Cabo Verde. His research interests focus on civil society engagement, social movements, civil society organizations, governance, social capital and human capital. His PhD thesis dealt with the participation of civil society organizations in democratic governance in Cabo Verde. Igor Lukšic´ holds a PhD in the economics of transition inspired by the Austrian school of economics and is an Associate Professor at the University of Donja Gorica Podgorica, Montenegro. He served as Prime Minister of Montenegro between 2010 and 2012, Deputy Prime Minister and Minister for Foreign Affairs and European Integration between 2012 and 2016, as well as Minister of Finance between 2004 and 2010. Dr Lukšic´ stood as official candidate for the position of United Nations Secretary-General in 2016. From May 2016 to October 2021 Dr Lukšic´ was with PwC Southeast Europe dealing with the public sector and ESG portfolio. Solo Mara’s academic qualifications include a Master’s degree in International Relations from the International University of Japan, Niigata, and a Bachelor’s degree in Political Studies from the University of the South Pacific. He is currently the Secretary-General of the Pacific Island Development Forum. His was Fiji’s ambassador to the United States, Mexico, Denmark, Germany, the Holy See, Ireland and Israel. He was also Permanent Secretary at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and International Cooperation in Fiji. Patrick Molutsi has a DPhil from Oxford University, and is an independent consultant. Previously, he worked for the University of Botswana, the International Institute for Democracy and Electoral Assistance (International IDEA) in Stockholm, Sweden, as Director of Research, and the Botswana Tertiary Education Council which was transformed into the Human Resource Development Council, Botswana. His research interests are in civil society, democracy and poverty. Stefano Moncada has a PhD in Economics, and lectures and conducts research in the areas of development, poverty, climate change, and islands and small states studies. Prior to becoming an academic, Stefano Moncada worked in the Italian Parliament as a policy analyst. Stefano is the Director of the Islands and Small States Institute, a senior lecturer and researcher, part of the Executive Committee of the European Association of Development and Training Institutes, of the Mediterranean Experts on Climate and Environmental Change, and acts as an expert reviewer for the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. Annita Montoute is a lecturer at the Institute of International Relations at the University of the West Indies (UWI). Her research interests include civil society, emerging powers and xiv

List of contributors

external relations in the Caribbean. She holds a PhD in International Relations from UWI (2009). Michalis Moutselos is a lecturer in Comparative Politics in the Department of Social and Political Sciences at the University of Cyprus. He was previously a Research Fellow at the Max Planck Institute for the Study of Religious and Ethnic Diversity in Göttingen, Germany. His research interests lie in the intersection of politics, immigration and social movements. He is currently the Partner Group Leader for the Max Planck Partner Group Program entitled ‘The New Guards: Re-bordering the Southeast Mediterranean in an Age of Migration’. Vijay Naidu has a BA and an MA (with distinction) in Political Sociology from the University of the South Pacific (USP), and a DPhil in the Sociology of Development from the University of Sussex, UK. He was Professor and Director of Development Studies at USP until 2018, and at the Victoria University of Wellington, New Zealand, from 2003–06. He is currently adjunct Professor at USP. He has carried out research on a range of topics in Oceania. He has been a consultant to government, non-government and regional organizations and UN agencies. An engaged academic, he was involved in the Fiji Antinuclear Group, an affiliate of the NFIP Movement, and the Citizens Constitutional Forum. Asinate Namuaira has a BSc in Environmental Science and a Post-Graduate Diploma in Climate Change from the University of the South Pacific. She is the Coordinator of Climate Action at the Pacific Island Development Forum. Her roles include facilitating the implementation of policy advice on cross-cutting issues relating to climate change, assisting in the development of relevant programmes and projects related to climate change and assisting with sound reporting mechanisms and processes. Aleksandar Andrija Pejovic´ holds a PhD in Law and has more than 26 years of experience in international affairs, European affairs, government initiatives, strategy drafting and public administration reform, and other international projects in Montenegro and the Western Balkans as Minister of European Affairs, Chief Negotiator, State Secretary for European Integration, NIPAC, Ambassador of Montenegro to the EU as well as a diplomat holding key positions in the Montenegrin MFA. He is a member of MENSA Montenegro and has written a number of books and articles on European integration, EU law, EU funds, the history of diplomacy and others. Tatjana Rakar, PhD, is Associate Professor of Sociology at the Faculty of Social Sciences, University of Ljubljana. She lectures on social policy, family policy, civil society, third sector and social entrepreneurship. Her research areas include studies in social policy, family policy, work-life balance and care, civil society organizations and social enterprises. In these areas she has contributed to several national and international projects and published articles in national and international journals, as well as books and book chapters. Amílcar Peter Sanatan is an artist, academic and activist from Trinidad and Tobago. He is a PhD candidate in Cultural Studies at the University of the West Indies. His research and activism focus on men and masculinities in the Caribbean and Latin America, youth and student development, socioeconomic development in urban planning and cultural geography. David Sebudubudu, PhD, is a Professor of Political Science in the Department of Political and Administrative Studies, Faculty of Social Sciences, University of Botswana. His research xv

List of contributors

interests are in civil society, the state and democracy, political corruption, ethics and accountability, African politics, debates about development and the wider political economy, and he has published widely in these areas. Claire Slatter is a retired academic, and an active scholar-activist. She taught politics for 23 years at the University of the South Pacific, and ethics for almost three years at Fiji National University. She was active in the early nuclear free and independent Pacific movement, and was one of the first wave of feminist activists and organizers in Fiji and the surrounding region. She is a founding and Executive Committee member of the global South feminist network of scholar-activists, Development Alternatives with Women for a New Era (DAWN), and a founding and active member of the Pacific Network on Globalisation. Rose-Ann Smith holds a BA and a PhD in Geography from the University of the West Indies at Mona. She is a lecturer in the Department of Geography and Geology at the University of the West Indies at Mona, where she lectures on several courses including Disaster Risk Management. Her broad research interests include disaster risk reduction, climate change adaptation and sustainable livelihoods. Jason Titifanue is an Honorary Research Associate at the Institute of Human Security and Social Change at La Trobe University, Melbourne, Australia, and a PhD candidate in the School of Geography, Earth and Atmospheric Sciences at the University of Melbourne. His research interests are rooted in the Pacific Islands region and include post-colonial discourse, climate change narratives, digital activism and grassroots regionalism. Katrin Uba is an Associate Professor in the Department of Government, Uppsala University, Sweden. Her main research interests are the political activism of the labour movement, and the mobilization and political impact of social movements with a particular focus on environmental movements and youth climate activism, and protest events data. She is an associate editor of the journal Social Movement Studies, and has published articles in numerous academic journals such as American Behaviour Scientist, Politics, Political Studies or New Technology, Work and Employment. Her work with the Estonian Protest Dataset was financed by the Mobilitas Pluss returning researchers’ grant in Estonia. Mario Thomas Vassallo has a PhD from Sheffield University, UK, an MA in European Studies (Melit), a BA (Hons) in Public Policy (Melit), and is head of the Department of Public Policy, University of Malta. His research interests include multi-level governance, civil society, Europeanization, politics in arts and literature, and evidence-based policy. Mario Thomas Vassallo was invited to deliver international training in Tanzania (1997), Swaziland (2004), Corsica (2016) and Mauritius (2020). Since 2016 he has served as Rector’s Delegate to the Institute for Public Services. He is the co-editor of the book series Public Life in Malta, and his research work has been published by Palgrave Macmillan, Emerald and Routledge among others. Jordan K. Williams is Senior Lecturer and Research Officer at Trench Town Polytechnic College, Jamaica, where he also serves as Director of Research and Planning. Jordan K. Williams is a doctoral student at the Islands and Small States Institute, University of Malta. He holds a BSc in Political Science and Social Anthropology and an MSc in Sociology from the University of the West Indies (UWI). He also works as a research assistant at UWI. He is a member of the Caribbean Sociological Association where he sits on the executive board as Marketing and Public Relations Officer. xvi

Abbreviations

ACDI-VOCA ACTA ADAD ADB ADPD ADRA AEC AG AIDA AIMO AKEL AMIF AMMR ANN AOSIS APF APSHF ASFF ASW ATOM BAS BBNJ BNN BNS BOCOBONET BOCONGO BOL BRG CADEC CAISO CARICOM CBDRM CBO CBDO CCC

Agricultural Cooperative Development International/Volunteers in Overseas Cooperative Assistance Anti-Counterfeiting Trade Agreement Association for the Defence of the Environment Asian Development Bank Alternattiva Demokratika Partit Demokratiku Adventist Development and Relief Agency Antilles Episcopal Conference Attorney-General Asylum Information Database Alta Intensidade de Mão de Obra (High Intensity of Manpower) Progressive Party of Working People Asylum, Migration and Integration Fund Archdiocese’s Ministry for Migrants and Refugees Accompong News Network Alliance of Small Islands States Aruba Positive Foundation Association for the Promotion of Solid Human Family Alliance of Solidarity for the Family Solwara Warriors Committee Against Tests on Moruroa Belize Audubon Society beyond national jurisdiction Belize Network of NGOs Baltic News Service Botswana Community Based Organisations Network Botswana Council of Non-Governmental Organisations Blue Ocean Law, Bismarck Ramu Group Christian Action for Development in the Eastern Caribbean Coalition Advocating for Inclusion of Sexual Orientation Caribbean Community Community-based Disaster Risk Management Community-based Organization Community-based Disaster Organizations Caribbean Conference of Churches

Abbreviations

CCF CCPA CCSJ CCZ CDRT CEDAW CELCOR CEO CEPS CERT CFS CIDA CITES CLO COP COVID-19 CROP CSO CVE DANIDA DAWN DG DGASP DISY DRM EASO EC ECOWAS ECSO ECV EEAS EEZ EK EKRE EMO ENGO EOA EOC EPD ERIC EU EUAA FAA FAO xviii

Citizens Constitutional Forum Cockpit Country Protected Area Catholic Commission for Social Justice Clarion-Clipperton Zone Community Disaster Response Team UN Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women Centre for Environmental Law and Community Rights Chief Executive Officer Citizen Engagement Platform Seychelles Community Emergency Response Team Child Friendly Space Canadian International Development Agency Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora Crown Land Ordinance Conference of the Parties Coronavirus disease 2019 Council of Regional Organizations in the Pacific Civil Society Organization Cabo Verdean Escudos Danish International Development Agency Development Alternatives with Women for a New Era Directorate General Direcção Geral de Agricultura, Silvicultura e Pecuária (General Directorate of Agriculture, Forestry and Livestock) Democratic Rally Party Disaster Risk Management European Asylum Support Office European Commission Economic Community of West African States Environmental Civil Society Organization Cabo Verdean Escudos European External Action Service Exclusive Economic Zone Eesti Keskerakond (Estonian Centre Party) Eesti Konservatiivne Rahvaerakond (Estonian Conservative People’s Party) Environmental Movement Organization Environmental Non-governmental Organization Equal Opportunity Act Equal Opportunities Commission Estonian Protest Dataset Environmental Research Institute of Charlotteville European Union European Union Agency for Asylum Flimkien Għall-Ambjent Aħjar Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations

Abbreviations

FCVR FLNKS FO FPIC FWCC FWRM GBV GDP GEF SGP GEM Plus GLB HIV/AIDS ICT IDB IDC IGC IGO ILO IMF INGO IOM IPCC IPV ISA ISCR IUCN JCPC JEAN JET JIS JLP KOM LAC LGB LGBT LGBTIQ+ LGBTQI LGBTQIA+ LUNGOS MaB MCCA MEP MISA MOU MPD MSG

Fundacion Contra Violencia Relacional Front de Libération Nationale Kanak et Socialiste Forest Ordinance Free, Prior and Informed Consent Fiji Women’s Crisis Centre Fiji Women’s Rights Movement Gender-based Violence Gross Domestic Product Global Environmental Facility Small Grants Programme Gender and Media Plus Association of Seychelles Gays, Lesbians and Bisexuals Human Immunodeficiency Virus/Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome Information and Communications Technology Inter-American Development Bank International Donors Conference in Solidarity with Venezuelan Refugees and Migrants in Latin America and the Caribbean Intergovernmental Conference Inter-governmental Organization International Labor Organization International Monetary Fund International Non-governmental Organization International Organization for Migration Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change Intimate Partner Violence International Seabed Authority Institute for Social and Cultural Research International Union for the Conservation of Nature Judicial Committee of the Privy Council Jamaica Environmental Advocacy Network Jamaica Environment Trust Jamaica Information Service Jamaica Labour Party Cypriot Motorcycle Federation Latin America and the Caribbean Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transsexual, Intersex, Queer, Plus Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer, Questioning, Intersex Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer (Questioning), Intersex and Asexual (Plus) Liaison Unit of Non-governmental Organizations UNESCO Man and the Biosphere Methodist Church of in Caribbean and the Americas Member of the European Parliament Marshall Islands Student Association Memorandum of Understanding Movement for Democracy Melanesian Spearhead Group xix

Abbreviations

MWCSD NATO NCEU NEIC NEMO NFIP NGO NICCO NICH NIMBY NKEI NNGO NORA NORI ODPEM OPESCA PAICV PAIGC PANA PANG PBL PCC PCRC PEA PEO PIANGO PIC PIF PIFS PL PLATONG PLG PMNs PN PNA PNP POS PPADSM PSIDS PWNAVAW R4V REFLOR-CV

xx

Ministry and Women, Community and Social Development, Samoa North Atlantic Treaty Organization National Convention for the EU National European Integration Council National Emergency Management Organisation Nuclear Free and Independent Pacific Non-governmental Organization National Climate Change Office National Institute of Culture and History Not In My Back Yard National Convention on European Integration of Montenegro National Non-governmental Organization Norwegian Agency for Development Co-operation Nauru Ocean Resources Inc. Office of Disaster Preparedness and Emergency Management Organización de Productores de Pesca Industrial (Industrial Fisheries Producers’ Organization) Partido Africano para la Independència de Cabo Verde (African Party for the Independence of Cabo Verde) Partido Africano da Independência da Guiné e Cabo Verde (African Party for the Independence of Guinea Bissau and Cabo Verde) Plano de Acção Nacional Para o Ambiente (National Action Plan for the Environment Pacific Network on Globalization Pacific Blue Line Pacific Conference of Churches Pacific Concerns Resource Centre Protest Event Analysis Pancyprian Federation of Labour Pacific Islands Association of Non-governmental Organizations Pacific Island Country Pacific Islands Forum Pacific Islands Forum Secretariat Partit Laburista (Malta) Cabo Verdean Platform of Non-governmental Organizations Polynesian Leaders Group Polymetallic nodules Partit Nazzjonalista (Malta) Parties to the Nauru Agreement People’s National Party Political Opportunity Structures Pacific Parliamentarians Alliance on DSM Pacific Small Island Developing States Pacific Women’s Network Against Violence Against Women Inter-Agency Coordination Platform for Refugees and Migrants from Venezuela Building Adaptive Capacity and Resilience of the Forestry Sector in Cabo Verde

Abbreviations

RMRP RMRP Caribbean SA SACUA SADC SAMOA SAP SDA SDG SEA SECO SEK SFA SFPA SIDA SIDS SMOs SOGIESC SOPAC SPC SPNFZ SRH SSC STEA STI SUSUS SVG SVGRC THA TIDE TIS TNC TOML TTAL TTVSOLNET UCCSA UNESCO UCN ULMWP UN UNCLOS UNDP UNFCCC UNHCR UNISPAC USAID USP

Response Plan for Refugees and Migrants from Venezuela Refugee and Migrant Response Plan in the Caribbean Sub-region Salvation Army Southern African Customs Union Agreement Southern African Development Community SIDS Accelerated Modalities of Action Structural Adjustment Programme Seventh-day Adventist Sustainable Development Goal Southern Environmental Association Salon for European Civic Organizations Cyprus Workers Confederation Samoa Fa’afafine Association Slovak Foreign Policy Association Swedish International Development Agency Small Island Developing States Social Movement Organisations Sexual Orientation, Gender Identity and Expression and Sex Characteristics South Pacific Applied Geosciences Commission Secretariat of the Pacific Community South Pacific Nuclear Free Zone Sexual and Reproductive Health Socialist Student Conference Southern Trelawny Environmental Agency Sexually transmitted infection Stand Up, Step Up Seychelles Saint Vincent and the Grenadines Saint Vincent and the Grenadines Red Cross Society Tobago House of Assembly Toledo Institute for Development and Environment Te Ipukarea Society The Nature Conservancy Tonga Offshore Mining Ltd Tobago Tourism Agency Limited Trinidad & Tobago-Venezuela Solidarity Network United Congregational Churches of Southern Africa United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization Unite Cyprus Now United Liberation Movement for West Papua United Nations United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea United Nations Development Programme United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees University of the South Pacific university students’ magazine United States Agency for International Development University of the South Pacific xxi

Abbreviations

UWI VENEX VO WASO WCC WCCC WHO WPNCL WRC WTO WWF YMCA YWCA ZANU-PF

xxii

University of the West Indies Venezolanos Residentes en Curaçao Voluntary Organization Women in Action and Solidarity World Council of Churches Women and Children Crisis World Health Organization West Papua National Coalition for Liberation Windsor Research Centre World Trade Organization World Wild Fund for Nature Young Men’s Christian Association Young Women’s Christian Association Zimbabwe African National Union – Patriotic Front

Introduction Civil society and social movements in small states Lino Briguglio, Michael Briguglio, Sheila Bunwaree and Claire Slatter

The main thrust of the book This volume is organized in three parts dealing with aspects of civil society and social movements in small states in the political, social and environmental spheres, respectively. Various definitions of civil society are proposed in the chapters, but most of the contributors associate the term with organized groups operating in the interests of citizens, independently of government and commercial businesses, including various forms of non-governmental organizations (NGOs). Civil society also encompasses social movements which are considered to be loosely organized collective campaigns in pursuit of social goals. These two terms are sometimes used interchangeably; however, some contributors argue that social movements tend to engage in ‘contentious politics’ including protest, while NGOs engage via more organized and institutional routes. The focus of the book is on small states. There is not much discussion in the book as to what constitutes a small state, although the coverage of the book is on countries that are usually considered to be small ones. Generally, population size is chosen as an indicator of country size, often with a cut-off population size of 1.5 million.1 However, countries with larger populations are often grouped with the small state category. This book includes four such small countries, namely Jamaica with a population of just under three million, Slovenia and North Macedonia with populations of about 2.1 million each, and Botswana with a population of about 2.4 million.2 The small states covered in this book are mostly located in the tropical areas of the Caribbean region, as well as in the Pacific and Indian Oceans. However, a number of small states in Europe and Africa are also included. There are many studies on civil society and social movements, but none that specifically deal with small states. Small states have particular characteristics including a limited ability to reap the benefits of economies of scale, a high degree of exposure to forces outside their control, and proximity of politicians to the voters, often leading to clientelistic relationships and patronage networks. The small island developing states have the additional problem of high environmental vulnerability, with some of them having disproportionate ecological footprints

DOI: 10.4324/9781003341536-1

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Lino Briguglio, Michael Briguglio, Sheila Bunwaree and Claire Slatter

too. These factors have a bearing on the organization and performance of civil society organizations (CSOs) and social movements as explained in several chapters of this book. This introductory chapter is organized in five sections. The following three sections discuss the political, environmental and social issues facing small states. It is not always easy to find a clear-cut distinction between these three issues, as they are often intertwined, related to and affect each other. The sections are based on the main thrust of each chapter in terms of the above-mentioned three issues. The concluding section outlines a number of implications from the findings of the chapters.

Environmental issues The chapters that examine the environmental role of civil society and social movements make use of an array of analytic approaches including surveys and media reports, and analyse various operational approaches adopted by CSOs and social movements, including advocacy, resistance, protests and collaboration with government entities.

The pursuit of sustainable development Environmental activism is often associated with sustainable development goals, and frequently attempts to show that the exclusive quest for short-term economic gains is not compatible with these goals. Lewis-Cameron and Brown-Williams (Chapter 1) explore the role of CSOs in the pursuit of sustainable tourism in the small island of Tobago. The island, like many others endowed with natural attractions, including alluring beaches, generates considerable income and employment in this popular tourist destination. Apart from the possibility that a proportion of this income is not enjoyed by members of the host community, tourism often leads to environmental problems. CSOs in many tourist destinations strive to raise awareness of such environmental harm and lack of inclusion. The authors explain how CSOs in Tobago collaborated with the municipality in protecting Tobago’s natural resources and promoting their sustainable use. As a consequence, this has positively contributed to the strategic positioning of the island as an ecotourism destination, with these CSOs recording a number of achievements and opportunities, as well as challenges. The main conclusion drawn in this chapter is that CSOs are well positioned to mobilize individuals, and influence behaviour and decision-making within local communities to achieve sustainable development objectives. Sustainable development is often mentioned in many government strategies and plans, but in practice economic interests are generally assigned centre stage, with social and environmental concerns mostly being consigned to paper. Lopes (Chapter 2) shows that this is the case in Cabo Verde. In this small island state, CSOs have managed to increase environmental and social awareness, even forcing environmental concerns into the government’s development agenda. The author analyses the strategies that these organizations employed in Cabo Verde to influence the government to adopt and implement environmentally sustainable socioeconomic policies. The main findings of this chapter indicate that favourable political opportunities may enable the local pro-environment movements to attain a measure of success. Another chapter focusing on the pursuit of sustainable development is that authored by Gutierrez-Corley et al. (Chapter 3). The chapter explores the application of network governance theory with special reference to environmental NGOs (ENGOs) in Belize. The chapter finds that networking and collaborative schemes between the ENGOs themselves, and between ENGOs and state agencies or affected communities do indeed need to improve the effectiveness of their efforts to promote environmental governance. However, the chapter emphasizes 2

Introduction

the need to strengthen the alliance between ENGOs to improve the chances of finding support from the stakeholders and influencing public policies. In turn, the authors argue, this leads to the development of communication mechanisms that enable such organizations to improve their capacity to advocate national resource conservation for the benefit of society as a whole in Belize.

Environmental protests, campaigns and resistance Three chapters deal with environmental protests. M. Briguglio (Chapter 4) discusses the campaigns that took place in Malta in 2020 following the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic, which were given extensive coverage in Malta’s mainstream media. The author considers the issues, organizations, coalitions and types of protests undertaken during this period, and refers to the groups and organizations that make up the collective actions in question, as well as the events that form the action repertoire, and the ideas that guide the protests. The study also analyses networks and the broader context in which the protests occurred. The main findings of this study are that environmental protests have continued to take place, even during the COVID-19 pandemic. The study also finds that the NGOs in Malta often formed coalitions with one another, which helped to strengthen their voice. Williams (Chapter 5) explores the impact of social resistance as a response to government approaches relating to mining in Jamaica’s Cockpit Country. The region, according to the author, faces existential threats due to its dependency on mining. The author argues that both the increased investment in and the expansion of the mining sector are being undertaken without critical consideration of climate change. These economic models and practices have been met with increased resistance from social movements against what the author considers as antiquated mining practices in the region. The chapter asserts that the politics of land and space in Jamaica is an extension of the legacies of marginalized communities fighting for self-identity, autonomy and the right to exist. The author contends that although social movements have policed and attempted to protect the Cockpit Country through ideological warfare and social protests, mining threats to the region remain. However, the Cockpit controversy and subsequent debates, according to the author, highlight the importance of ordinary people in public policies. Kasanawaqa et al. (Chapter 6) also deal with the environmental downsides of mining, this time deep-sea mining (DSM) in the Pacific. In March 2021 Pacific regional civil society groups launched a campaign calling on Pacific island leaders to join the coalition calling for a total ban on DSM within their territorial waters and in areas beyond national jurisdiction. However, the authors lament that a number of Pacific governments in the region have supported exploration activities. The chapter further argues that CSOs are frequently viewed by governments as attempting to profit from popular sentiment on development issues that contradict official plans and strategies, such as DSM. However, CSOs in the region are holding discussions on alternatives, including one that can encourage stakeholders to reach a consensus on the call for the ban. According to the authors, any compromise should involve opportunity cost considerations, as in order to win over governments and to keep deep-sea minerals unmined, the subject of costs and compensation must be included.

Environmental hazards Many small island states are prone to volcanic eruptions which, due to the small size of the territory, often affect a large proportion of the population. Cruickshank et al. (Chapter 7) discuss the roles of community-based organizations (CBOs) in the case of the volcanic eruption of 3

Lino Briguglio, Michael Briguglio, Sheila Bunwaree and Claire Slatter

La Soufrière in Saint Vincent and the Grenadines in late 2020 and the first months of 2021. The authors argue that effusive and explosive eruptions of La Soufrière highlight the importance of disaster risk management, in which CBOs can play a very important role. The chapter assigns major importance to the grassroots approach to disaster risk management by CBOs, especially in remote communities. The results show that CBOs in Saint Vincent and the Grenadines are negatively affected by several factors, including, but not limited to, partisan politics, resources and expertise constraints, excessive reliance on support from disaster management agencies and a high rate of membership turnover.

Social issues Sexual orientation and gender issues The issue of sexual orientation is not often discussed in the case of small states. The contribution by Andrew et al. (Chapter 8) is therefore a very welcome addition to the literature. The authors examine the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer (or questioning), intersex, and asexual (LGBTQIA+) civil society in Trinidad and Tobago and Mauritius, two small island developing states, the first located between the Caribbean Sea and the North Atlantic Ocean, and the second in the Indian Ocean. The chapter shows that in both Trinidad and Tobago and Mauritius, the LGBTQIA+ civil society movements are still at the nascent stage. The main obstacles that the movement encounters include the legal tradition inherited from their former colonizers and funding limitations. These realities are commonly found in small island states, the majority of which gained their independence from the 1960s to the 1980s. The chapter ends on the optimistic note that there is a growing social acceptance of LGBTQIA+ rights in both countries, particularly among the younger generation, and this could improve the possibilities of changes in political will which, in turn, could lead to legal reform. Kanemasu and Chan-Tung (Chapter 9) discuss fa’afafine (literally meaning ‘in the manner of a woman’) in Samoa, namely persons who are assigned male at birth but whose gendered behaviours are feminine to varying degrees, often with a sexual/romantic orientation towards men. Despite the widespread denunciation of non-heteronormativity based on religious and cultural discourses, fa’afafine are a highly visible social group in the country. It is often claimed that they are shielded from the stigmatization experienced by non-heteronormative persons in many other cultures. Since 2006 the Samoa Fa’afafine Association (SFA) has served as the primary advocacy body for fa’afafine, and more recently also for fa’afatama, who are persons assigned female at birth but who identify as men or who act ‘in the manner of a man’. The findings illuminate how the SFA has successfully appropriated key elements of both fa’asamoa (the Samoan way of life) and modern human rights advocacy under culturally embedded ‘shared leadership’. Another matter related to gender issues is violence against women and girls – a subject treated by Benoit (Chapter 10) with regard to Seychelles, a small island state in the western Indian Ocean. The term gender-based violence (GBV) is used in the chapter as an umbrella concept for the physical, sexual, psychological and socioeconomic harm, threats and coercion directed towards individuals or groups based on their gender, often occurring in the household between intimate partners. GBV occurs in many societies around the world and in order to shed light on the role of CSOs in combating such violence this chapter sought information from five CSOs operating in Seychelles. The chapter shows that civil society has an important role to play in advocating non-violent social change in the communities and in supporting survivors of GBV. As in the case of other studies, financial constraints often limit the ability of the organizations to attain their objectives. 4

Introduction

Migration and refugees A group of small states located in the southern Caribbean Sea, including Trinidad and Tobago, Guyana, Aruba, and Curaçao, are transit and destination countries for Venezuelan migrants. These migrants face various challenges including pushbacks, the risk of trafficking, smuggling, exploitation and abuse, food and housing insecurity, as well as lack of access to education, employment and health resources and services. Golesorkhi (Chapter 11) analyses the role of civil society in the context of the ‘Caribbean Sub-Region Refugees and Migrants Response Plan’ (RMRP-Caribbean). In exploring civil society efforts in the migrant transit and recipient small states, the chapter argues that although civil society is a key partner in the RMRP-Caribbean by providing essential resources and services to Venezuelan migrants, CSOs often remain overlooked with regard to funding and political engagement. According to the author, this raises important questions about agency, representation and accountability in global migration governance, especially for small island states which often report very high per capita migrant populations. Another chapter dealing with migrant refugees focuses on Southern Europe. Kalweit and Grech (Chapter 12) examine migrant-support CSOs in three small EU member states, namely Malta, Cyprus and Slovenia. The authors maintain that the space for these organizations has shrunk in recent years because they are increasingly facing operational challenges in offering support to asylum seekers. The chapter explores issues faced by CSOs in relation to accessing operational funding; the demonization and rhetorical criminalization of migrants and migrant support organizations in political discourse; and operational capacities to respond to social gaps left unattended, intentionally or otherwise, by governments. While such challenges may have been already present to a certain degree for a number of years, they have been exacerbated in the years since the 2015 ‘refugee crisis’ and even more so following the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic, thereby highlighting the long-term negative effects of unsustainable policies and practices concerning migrant workers, asylum seekers and refugees.

Faith-based CSOs Arguably, contemporary Christian churches, as do other CSOs, occupy a space between the state and the market. Religion for many people entails the mission of teaching moral principles and providing explanations for the trials and tribulations in life. By extension, faith-based organizations provide or channel the delivery of social services. Many churches have a regional character, and as such they can foster regional integration. This aspect of civil society is the subject of the study authored by Byron and Montoute (Chapter 13). The authors argue that despite the vast literature on Caribbean regional integration, the role of churches in advancing regional approaches to development remains under-explored. The chapter addresses this gap by exploring the manner in which churches contribute to the development of national/regional identity and regional consciousness, using the cases of the Catholic and Protestant churches in strengthening regional cooperation through their substantive work in the areas of migration, disaster management and humanitarian assistance.

ICT and CSOs Information and communications technologies (ICT) play a major role in all aspects of life. They have facilitated and streamlined interactions between persons and organizations, speeded up searches for information, with immense beneficial effects on education, expedited payments and other business transactions, and enabled service providers, including governments, to reach

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Lino Briguglio, Michael Briguglio, Sheila Bunwaree and Claire Slatter

their clients more effectively. Titifanue and Kant (Chapter 14) focus on an important aspect in this regard, namely how ICT platforms such as social media have provided activists and CSOs with a platform to amplify their engagement in policy processes, dialogue and debate, thereby promoting democracy across the Pacific Islands at grassroots level. The chapter examines how community activists in campaigns relating to climate change and the Free West Papua movement have harnessed ICT to strengthen their advocacy and connectivity within and beyond the Pacific region. By looking at such activist groupings and their use of social media to build wider solidarity networks, the authors provide insights into how ICT could serve as a catalyst for a new wave of Pacific activism and foster bottom-up regionalism.

Economic success and CSO financing Sebudubudu and Molutsi (Chapter 15) examine how economic success affects the fate of CSOs. The authors, writing about CSOs in Botswana, consider a situation whereby changing economic conditions have affected the viability of social movements in that country. In examining why CSOs in Botswana are experiencing challenging times, the authors single out lack of funding as a major constraint. The authors argue that in a situation whereby civil society and social movements are starved of financial support, they are rendered vulnerable and dependent on the state, thus compromising their autonomy as independent actors able to critique the state’s development agenda. The authors contend that this is the case in Botswana, despite its wealthy economy driven by diamond mining. The traditional main source of funding for CSOs in African developing countries originated from developed countries, but many of these withdrew their support from Botswana’s non-governmental sector as the country ceased to be a poor one. Consequently, this left a funding gap for CSOs, rendering them vulnerable to state control, with a resultant declining role in advocacy and critical stances challenging the government of that country.

Political issues Post-communist activism Four chapters in this volume deal with post-communist transition in four central and eastern European small states, namely Estonia, Montenegro, Slovenia and North Macedonia. European small countries do not generally feature in publications on small states, mainly because the focus of the literature in this regard is usually on the small island developing states located in the Pacific, Caribbean and Indian Ocean regions.3 Estonia, formerly part of the Soviet Union, regained its independence in 1991 and joined the EU in 2004. Uba (Chapter 16), in analysing protests in Estonia between 1992 and 2019, found that there was a decreasing protest frequency during the 1990s. However, the number of protests in Estonia increased in the mid-2000s and has remained stable since then. The average number of participants also seems to be increasing. The lack of many disruptive events, except the monument riots of 2007, signifies a relatively peaceful political culture that also characterizes other countries in the region. The analysis also showed that there was a predominance of economic issues in the Estonian protest scene during the 1990s, declining protests regarding the rights of Russian minorities since the 2010s and the rise of environmental protests from the 2000s. Even though prior research has suggested that the Estonian public is relatively patient, the author argues that a more diversified mobilization – regarding culturally liberal and conservative values and the environment – shows that Estonian civil society is becoming somewhat similar to that in Western Europe. 6

Introduction

Rakar and Deželan (Chapter 17) provide an overview of the strength of civil society in Slovenia after 30 years of independence from former Yugoslavia, a period which ushered in free markets and political pluralism during the post-communist transition. Like Estonia, Slovenia acceded to the EU in 2004. The chapter shows that CSOs in Slovenia have grown in number, but they have not developed significantly, according to certain parameters, such as the level of employment in the civil society sector and the share of the sector’s income in the country’s gross domestic product, which has only changed slightly. In discussing the concept of civil dialogue, the authors show that the three-decades-long development of civil society in this country has not led to the proper implementation of such dialogue. The authors analyse civil dialogue, looking at CSO initiatives to engage with government on the one hand, and government initiatives to engage with CSOs on the other, and conclude that such initiatives were not very frequent from either side. They were limited to occasional cooperation, with the initiative coming mostly from the CSOs and rarely from the government. Moreover, the occasional initiatives by CSOs tended to be limited to the local level. The authors emphasize the point that a two-way dialogue between CSOs and the government is of major importance for civil dialogue and for the enhancement of democracy, whereby CSOs can act as an important transmission link between the government and the citizens. The relationship between the government and CSOs is also discussed by Ivanovska Hadjievska (Chapter 19) with regard to North Macedonia, a post-communist transition country, and also an EU candidate country. The authors distinguish between politically and socially oriented CSOs, investigating the democratic potential of each of these two categories of CSOs, in terms of the extent to which organizations involve members in their activities (membership involvement) and internal decision-making processes (membership influence). She argues that politically oriented groups are expected to have a greater potential to contribute to institutional democratic effects, and socially oriented CSOs to individual democratic effects. The results of the study confirm that even though politically oriented CSOs cover a smaller section of the population, they have greater democratic potential than socially oriented CSOs, possibly because the latter have fewer funds and fewer human resources. This suggests that the longterm investment by the EU and foreign donors in CSO development in North Macedonia, which boosted the organizational capacities of politically oriented CSOs, is likely to have been beneficial for democracy in North Macedonia. Montenegro, another EU candidate country which has passed through a post-communist transition, is undertaking major governance reforms as part of the EU accession process. Lukšic´ and Pejovic´ (Chapter 18) discusses the role of CSOs in this process which, the authors argue, is very complex, long and demanding, involving various sections of society. The process poses particular challenges for any small country struggling to build adequate administrative capacities. According to the author, Montenegro responded to these challenges by integrating the civil sector directly into its negotiation structure. The author further argues that directly involving CSOs in the accession process increases the capacity of a small public administration in responding to the complex tasks associated with the accession process. The main conclusion of the chapter is that, the Montenegro model, which has been functioning for 10 years, achieved good results in terms of opening up all the accession negotiation channels. The author attributes this mostly to improved transparency, increased visibility and a feeling of ownership by civil society.

Political protests Three chapters deal with protests and civil activism with major impacts on the political scene. Vassallo et al. (Chapter 20) contend that civil society groups are often regarded as 7

Lino Briguglio, Michael Briguglio, Sheila Bunwaree and Claire Slatter

transformationalists as they are likely to adopt an antagonist attitude towards the governing elites in their quest for change. The authors contextualized their chapter within the intensive saga of events that developed in Malta during November 2019 and the following year, mainly calling for resignations after alleged political/business collusion that led to the assassination of the journalist Daphne Caruana Galizia. In an unprecedented occurrence, civil society groups rooted in right- and left-wing politics came together to protest against institutional corruption. The chapter maps out the strategies and actions coordinated by civil society groups throughout this period, arguing that these actions generated a political crisis that had widespread ramifications on a Europe-wide scale, and the crisis is said to have led to the resignation of the Maltese Prime Minister, raising concerns about the impact it could have had on the EU itself. Another protest that hit the news headlines all over the world related to the street protests of 2020/21 held in Mauritius following the Wakashio oil spill on 29 August 2020. Bunwaree (Chapter 21) contends that these protests were to some extent calling for the overhauling of a political system that was increasingly being seen as archaic, authoritarian and not in tune with the aspirations of modern Mauritians. The island’s more than a half century old Constitution, largely shaped by the British which resulted in a first-past-the-post electoral system, with an annexed ‘best loser’ mechanism, intended as a safeguard for minority representation, does not necessarily help to forge a strong Mauritian identity. Lack of transparency and inadequate environmental protection, are, according to the author, some of the causes of growing dissatisfaction, leading Mauritians to take to the streets, challenging the current government and the nature of governance. The author further maintains that weak and fractured civil society, money politics, and persistent ethnic politics constitute major obstacles to transformation. Some of the chapters in this volume argue that there are advantages for CSOs and social movements in dealing with their remit regionally, rather than nationally. This is the case in the chapter by Naidu and Slatter (Chapter 22) referring to the regional character of some CSOs in the Pacific which organize and advocate on region-wide concerns. According to the authors, the regional character of CSOs, while a challenge, could also be a factor in their success. The authors note that several social movements have emerged in the wider Pacific region, and refer specifically to three of these, namely the Nuclear Free and Independent Pacific movement, the Pacific movement against violence against women, and the more recent movement against DSM. The authors explain how shared concerns, effective advocacy, networking and relationship-building, together with conferencing, use of newsletters, internet communication and Zoom meetings, protests, campaigns and lobbying as well as donor support, have contributed to their strength and successes. University students are often involved in protests and other sorts of activism on social and economic issues, and such protests have sometimes had major political repercussions. Sanatan (Chapter 23) explores student activism of the Caribbean left. In presenting a historical overview and activist insights on student activism in the local, national and regional context, the author maintains that following the ‘collapse’ of the Grenada Revolution in 1983, socialist organizing waned in the region. The chapter also explores the organizational aims and strategies of contemporary student organizations and activism in the Caribbean. The author contends that leftist politics in the Caribbean political culture have been short-lived, with weak counteraction against neoliberal governance and the selective withdrawal of the state from the social sector in the region. However, the author concludes that community-based left-wing activism can achieve gains at local level to enhance their legitimacy at national and regional level. The problems associated with the division of the island of Cyprus in 1974 into the Greek Cypriot south and the Turkish Cypriot north are well known, but to date little has been written about the role of civil society in this regard. Moutselos (Chapter 24) presents a 8

Introduction

systematic overview of civil society developments and social movement activities after the division of the island. The chapter traces the mobilizational ebb and flow of protest against the Turkish occupation of northern Cyprus, as well as of bicommunal (Greek-Cypriot and Turkish-Cypriot) grassroots initiatives for cooperation. It is argued that emerging Cypriot new social movements, in particular feminist, LGBTQI+, and environmental movements, as well as movements for the rights of migrants (and the corresponding counter-movements) have grown considerably in recent decades. The chapter highlights a number of issues, frames and repertoires that are more prevalent in Cypriot collective action compared to other countries, for instance a fascination with borders/space and memory.

Conclusion The foregoing discussion has shown that CSOs can be a strong force in promoting the worthiness of values through advocacy, protests, service delivery and other forms of activism. These organizations promote a bottom-up approach to governance, as has been explained in some of the chapters. Different approaches were used by the contributors to this volume to investigate how CSOs are organized, their remit, their failures and successes, and their relationships with their governments. Some chapters base their findings on primary data collected from surveys with CSO representatives as respondents, seeking information through questionnaires. The chapters were mostly written in 2021 at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, and understandably the interviews were mostly carried out via electronic platforms. Other authors relied on published sources, mostly newspapers and various news portals. In some instances, secondary data was derived from registers of NGOs and from previously published work. As shown in the chapter summaries above, the geographic coverage of the book can be said to be global, related to countries in different stages of development and different forms of government, and in different regions.

Does small country size matter? The question arises as to whether the size of the country affects the performance of these organizations and movements. One constraint that emerged in most chapters is funding. Small states normally have limited resources due to the problem of scale constraints and indivisibilities, meaning that overhead costs cannot be downscaled in proportion to the size of the organization. In other words, the administrative costs of CSOs are likely to be higher per capita in a small organization. Another aspect related to funding in small state CSOs is limited organizational capacity which is related to membership and volunteering, both of which limit the human and financial resources that can be mobilized in a small state. Moreover, in a small state people tend to know each other well, and the chances of collective action affecting relatives and friends of those engaged in protests and other forms of activism are higher in a small state when compared to a larger country. This matter was mentioned in the case of CSOs which deal with contentious issues such as sexual orientation. A third factor, also associated with funding, is that foreign interests may find it easier to influence matters in the local affairs of small states through financial support of NGOs and other non-government outfits. This matter was often mentioned in the case of European countries in post-communist transition. In small states, governments tend to intervene in day-to-day matters. There are many publications that refer to personalized politics in these states. This can be considered as an 9

Lino Briguglio, Michael Briguglio, Sheila Bunwaree and Claire Slatter

advantage associated with the proximity of politicians to their constituents, but it can also generate the disadvantage of clientelism. This also means that in small states governments find it easier to meddle in the activities of non-government entities. This is of course the case in authoritarian governments of small and larger states, but in the case of small states, even highly democratic ones, the arm of politicians is long and interventionist politicians may find it easier to discredit CSO activity. This matter has been mentioned in some of the chapters relating to the small states of central and Central and Eastern European small states. An issue that emerges in some chapters is that CSOs of small states could benefit if they were to act regionally. This is obviously applicable when the issue involved has a regional character. This approach is becoming increasingly possible as a result of ICT platforms, as explained in some of the studies. As one of the authors states, by lobbying regionally CSOs can strengthen their voice and improve their effectiveness. Thus, although the issues confronting CSOs that are discussed in this volume are not exclusive to small state organizations, small country size may affect their performance, and therefore a volume dedicated to small states on this matter is justified. As mentioned above, there is a gap in the literature on the challenges faced by small states, and it is hoped that this book will make a useful contribution in deepening understanding and knowledge about this area of interest.

Notes 1 This population cut-off point is adopted by the Word Bank, the International Monetary Fund and the Commonwealth. 2 World Bank 2021 data. Jamaica is included in the list of SIDS by AOSIS (www.aosis.org/about/mem ber-states/) and by the United Nations (https://sustainabledevelopment.un.org/topics/sids/list). Likewise, Botswana is considered a small state by the Commonwealth (https://thecommonwealth.org/ our-work/small-states). 3 However, the World Bank database does include some European small states in its list (www.worldba nk.org/en/country/smallstates/overview#1).

10

Part I

Environmental issues

1 Civil society and the pursuit of sustainable tourism in the small island jurisdiction of Tobago Acolla Lewis-Cameron and Tenisha Brown-Williams

Introduction This chapter explores the role of civil society organizations (CSOs) in the pursuit of sustainable tourism in the small island state of Tobago and seeks to understand the part they play in national policy development in this regard. Civil society has played a formative role in the development of Caribbean societies dating back to colonization and slavery, dealing mainly with freedom of rights and recognition of human worth and empowerment of the marginalized. An example of this is the establishment of trade unions throughout the region and their use of strike actions from 1916 for improved worker rights. Indeed, these actions transcend the traditional ‘charitable’ actions expected by civil society and emphasize establishing and building social capital in Caribbean societies following decades of enslavement and indentureship (Hinds, 2019). Today, civil society groups in the Caribbean continue to contribute to socioeconomic development and engage in the politics and governance of the region at both national and regional level. However, their recognition and inclusion in matters of development and governance by state authorities are lacking (Hinds, 2019). Hinds (2019, p. 43) appositely states that although Caribbean civil society has contributed to self-governance, independence and statehood, they ‘have been mostly omitted in governance practices and have been ignored for their contributions to sustaining the region’. The island of Tobago is a pertinent example of a tourist destination where CSOs are making some strides in gaining recognition for their contribution to sustainable development. Like many Caribbean territories, tourism is the primary economic earner for Tobago, which over the past two years has been adversely affected by the COVID-19 pandemic. Prior to the outbreak of the pandemic, an Environmental Partnership Declaration was signed in 2019 by governing authorities and local environmental CSOs. This Declaration demonstrated commitment to protecting the sustainable use of Tobago’s natural resources by all signatories. In 2020, the island achieved the prestigious United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) Man and the Biosphere (MaB) designation through this collaboration. The MaB designation contributes to the island’s positioning as an ecotourism destination.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003341536-3

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Furthermore, it supports the policy position for tourism, which is focused on preserving the island’s natural resources while building the economic capacities of communities. This chapter explores achievements, opportunities and challenges relating to the role of civil society groups in the sustainable development of Tobago’s tourism sector. The respondents were selected because they were directly or indirectly involved in the UNESCO MaB designation. It investigates whether CSOs are well positioned to mobilize individuals, and influence behaviour and decision-making within local communities to achieve sustainable tourism development. Following this introductory section, the chapter presents a brief overview of Tobago to provide the background and context for the study. This is followed by a review of the literature which outlines the main debates about sustainable tourism, tourism policy and governance, and civil society’s role in tourism. The section that follows describes the methodology used to achieve the objective of this chapter. In the successive section, the findings resulting from interviews with CSO tourism stakeholders are presented and discussed. The concluding section derives practical implications for CSOs in other small island jurisdictions that may wish to contribute more effectively to sustainable tourism development in their territories.

The island of Tobago: background and context The island of Tobago, located in the southern Caribbean, is the smaller of the twin island state of Trinidad and Tobago, with a small population of 60,000 inhabitants. Although the central government resides in the larger island of Trinidad, the Tobago House of Assembly (THA), a semi-autonomous body that presides over the island’s socioeconomic activities, governs Tobago. In contrast to Trinidad, whose main economic activity depends on oil and gas, Tobago leverages its almost pristine natural assets and unique cultural offerings for tourism development. Accordingly, approximately 37% of the island’s overall earnings and 47.6% of total employment are derived from tourism (World Travel & Tourism Council, 2018). In 2017 the central government approved the creation of a single entity for the development and marketing of Tobago’s tourism sector, the Tobago Tourism Agency Limited (TTAL), to focus on developing more sustainable tourism products (TTAL, 2022). Ecotourism, adventure tourism, health and wellness were identified as primary tourism niches. In 2020, the island was awarded the MaB designation making it the largest MaB site in the English-speaking Caribbean (Moses-Wothke et al., 2021). The site comprises the Tobago Main Ridge Forest Reserve, the oldest legally protected forest in the Western hemisphere, and 15 villages with approximately 12,000 inhabitants. This designation has further strengthened the island’s strategic positioning as an ecotourism destination as it seeks to recover from the impact of the COVID-19 pandemic. Moreover, the MaB designation has fostered a positive relationship between natural biodiversity and cultural diversity and ensured that the area’s economic activities are socioculturally and environmentally sustainable (UNESCO, 2021). One of the key activities leading up to the awarding of the designation was the implementation of the Improved Forest and Protected Area Management Project and the establishment of a project steering committee. Moses-Wothke et al. (2021, p. 163) noted that the committee comprised THA representatives and members of CSOs and emphasized that ‘this Steering Committee was the longest collaboration between state and non-state actors regarding the conservation and sustainable natural resource management in the history of Tobago’. Notably, one of the CSOs, the Environmental Research Institute of Charlotteville (ERIC), was appointed to lead on the preparation of the required dossier for the MaB designation. Another pertinent activity was the signing of an Environmental Partnership Declaration between several CSOs and state officials. This declaration was signed in 2019 as part of an 14

Civil society and the pursuit of sustainable tourism in Tobago

inaugural Environmental Partnership Conference signalling commitment from both groups to the protection and sustainable use of Tobago’s natural resources. Moses-Wothke et al. (2021, p. 170) aptly noted that ‘the increased public-private sector collaboration between the State and CSO’s actors between 2014 and 2020 created … trust to achieve consensus on the most appropriate path towards sustainable development, resilient and responsible tourism’. Tobago, like most of the other tourism dependent islands in the Caribbean, recognizes the need to adopt a more balanced approach to tourism development with a focus on ‘integrating the public and private sectors in a coordinated manner’ (Romagosa, 2020, p. 693). The MaB project provided the opportunity for the tourist destination to test the network policy approach in this particular context.

Literature review The SIDS tourism context The usual rhetoric associated with small island developing states (SIDS) such as their physical remoteness from mainlands, limited land space, fragile natural environments, high exposure to natural disasters as well as their small domestic markets, limited ability to exploit economies of scale, and subsequent loss of market share has been seen to hinder the development options for these states. The tourism industry often presents itself as a natural fit for SIDS given their natural attractions and the potential the sector holds for generating considerable income, employment and foreign exchange inflows. However, notwithstanding the obvious economic benefits, dependence has led to strong foreign domination within the local tourism value chain, often to the detriment of the natural environment and the people who reside in these destinations (Hampton and Jeyacheya, 2020). There are questions surrounding the viability of tourism for the economic growth of SIDS especially given the devastating fallout from the COVID-19 pandemic. For some, the pandemic has prompted a ‘eureka moment’ and has led tourism-dependent small islands that were once supportive of mass tourism to question its value (Baldacchino, 2021). Several researchers have lobbied for the diversification of small island economies away from tourism to ‘new growth’ industries such as blue economy initiatives, agro-processing, light manufacturing and offshore business process outsourcing services (Sheller, 2021). Diversification is not a new discussion and appears cyclic each time a crisis befalls SIDS. The reality for them is an inability to remove themselves from a dependency on tourism, but as Sheller (2021, p. 11) aptly notes, ‘rather than quick-fix rebuilding … a regenerative approach to building mobility justice within an integrated, inter-regional, reparative framework, into which sustainable tourism could be integrated with a view to supporting resilient food systems and jobs, while preserving biodiversity’ is required. In other words, if tourism dependent development cannot be avoided, then a balanced approach is crucial. This has long been a discussion for SIDS and has been reflected in the work of Briguglio (2008), Dodds and Graci (2012) and Graci (2013).

Sustainable tourism development: COVID-19 and beyond Sustainability discussions have been reframed following the devastating impact of the COVID19 pandemic on Caribbean economies. New perspectives on sustainable tourism and social justice in a COVID-19 context have been proposed, often emphasizing the inclusion and participation of residents and other stakeholders in decision-making more than in the past. In their discussion, Higgins-Desbiolles et al. (2021) highlight the opportunities that COVID-19 15

Acolla Lewis-Cameron and Tenisha Brown-Williams

has provided to ‘socialize tourism’ and points to the efforts of governments worldwide to engage local tourism and hospitality workers and other stakeholder groups in providing financial assistance during lockdown periods. The authors suggest that from the tourism supply-side, socializing tourism means that efforts are made to create more touristic opportunities within communities through strong social interactions, support and partnerships. They conclude that this ‘offers one pathway to transform relations in tourism so that justice, equity and sustainability may be better secured’ (Higgins-Desbiolles et al. (2021, p. 4). Walker and Lee (2021), in their study on sustainable tourism in small island states, explore the application of the Cittàslow philosophy as part of the re-engineered sustainability discourse. The authors suggest that its ‘unique approach to sustainability and local governance has the potential to be beneficial to SIDS’ through the perpetuation of the slow tourism ethos, which appears compatible with island living (Walker and Lee (2021, p. 415). Despite the apparent optimism, there is still a pessimistic concern that persistent neoliberal capitalist agendas may only pay lip service to reframed tourism sustainability and even continue to ‘deploy deceptive campaigns to divert attention from the critical challenges we confront’ (Higgins-Desbiolles et al., 2019, p. 5). Sharma et al. (2021, p. 7) offers the view that social unity, self-sacrifice, and a sympathetic attitude are as significant as wearing a face mask [by travellers] to protect oneself and others … There is a need for a ‘communitycentred tourism’ … [that is public and private sector driven] with responsible approaches to reset, redescribe, and refamiliarize the tourism industry in the interest of local communities. Romagosa (2020, p. 693) argues that a better balancing of tourism development is currently required for equity, justice and economic gain. In his discussion, the author asserts that ‘this is where tourism planning, and management policies come into play … and with appropriate forms of governance’.

Tourism policy and governance McCool and Bosak (2016), writing about the tools that are needed for reframing sustainable tourism, believe that plans and policies are necessary for the achievement of sustainable tourism and advocate that they should be adaptive given the emergence of change and complexities within the industry. Decades ago Hall and Jenkins (1995, p. 26) recognized that beyond the will to create tourism policies, the process requires ‘a good general knowledge of the machinery of government, and the lines of responsibility, roles, and functions of various individuals, bodies and institutions’. Thus, the relationship between the state and policy actors determines the quality of the policy and its practicability for implementation and touches on the governance approach to tourism development (Hall, 2011). Hall (1999, p. 275) argues further that a tourism governance structure should shift from ‘one of hierarchical control to one in which governing is dispersed among a number of separate, non-government entities’ and which ‘emphasizes governance through the network structures’. He also identified a typology of governance, which he deemed suitable for proper policy development and implementation, stating that ‘critical to the value of the different modes of governance are the relationships that exist … the steering modes that range from hierarchical top-down steering to non-hierarchical approaches’. Based on this, he identified four dimensions of governance: hierarchical governance; governance through markets; governance through networks; and governance as communities. 16

Civil society and the pursuit of sustainable tourism in Tobago

More pointedly, Wu et al. (2021) emphasize the efficacy of a network governance approach to policy development. The network approach focuses on the participants, their relationships and the structural context within which decisions occur. It also considers the web of relations between the various actors participating in the political problem-solving process. Wu et al. (2021, pp. 9–10) assert that governments cannot manage the complex system of tourism on their own, which confirms the need for public sector policy to shift from centralised control towards collaborative policy development … this proposed model of governance and policy implementation, with more shared power and shared responsibility, may help sustainable tourism to progress beyond formal policymaking processes … into the realm of operational implementation, while at the same time strengthening connections and collaborations between the public and private sectors. Although much merit exists in employing this approach, Dredge (2006, p. 566) argues that its influence on destination management capabilities has not been fully explored. She also contends that ‘greater attention upon the role of the state and its relationships with producer groups and civil society is needed in order to balance the current market-driven focus of networks and to ensure that networks also deliver on community wellbeing’. Alipour and Arefipour (2020) have shared similar sentiments.

Understanding CSOs and their contribution to sustainable tourism and development As Dredge (2006) and Alipour and Arefipour (2020) indicated, CSOs are some of the policy network’s leading actors. The latter is usually used as an umbrella category to cover social movements and various forms of non-governmental organizations (NGOs), which exist in the local, regional and global contexts. These are referred to as groups, enterprises or organizations that emerge from among the wider society, apart from political systems and groups with a profit motive, with the purpose of advocating for change across social, economic and environmental spheres (Hinds, 2019). Scholte (2004, p. 214) adds that ‘civil society groups bring citizens together non-coercively in deliberate attempts to mould the formal laws and informal norms that regulate social interaction … veritable civil society associations do not pursue for themselves public office or pecuniary gain’. Ghaus-Pasha (2005, p. 3) outlines five critical functions of CSOs: Civil society can further good governance, first, by policy analysis and advocacy; second, by regulation and monitoring of state performance and the action and behaviour of public officials; third, by building social capital and enabling citizens to identify and articulate their values, beliefs, civic norms and democratic practices; fourth, by mobilizing particular constituencies, particularly the vulnerable and marginalized sections of masses, to participate more fully in politics and public affairs; and fifth, by development work to improve the well-being of their own and other communities. Burns (1999) notes the positive impact of CSOs on environmental protection and regeneration and the practice of sustainable tourism development. Munene (2021), in her survey of tourism stakeholders in Kenya, found that tourism offerings increased in quality as linkages were made with NGOs and other key stakeholders. She notes that they benefited from training and 17

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funding opportunities through these collaborative linkages. Seng (2005), in his discussions of state-civil society relations in Singapore’s tourism sector, remarks on the ability of civil society to socialize residents and tourists and to act as a conduit for social and political activism that balances the positive and negative impacts of tourism. Vergopoulos (2018, p. 51), in his study of alternative tourism and civil society in Athens, found that tours offered by NGOs created a level of social stability in the minds of tourists and allowed them to contribute their views on solutions to any crisis plaguing the destination. CSOs, in his estimation, played the role of mediators and peacemakers during this period as they sought to help visitors to understand the current social issues without any political bias while still helping to build a positive image of the destination. Scholte (2004, p. 215) writes that ‘civil society organisations can serve as significant agents of public education, countering widespread ignorance … In addition, inputs from civil society groups can bring helpful information and insights to policy processes, including data and perspectives that are missing’. Despite the potential which exists in CSOs, they are not always given due recognition. Hinds (2019) states that even though CSOs have helped to boost Caribbean regionalism in the post-colonial era, they are rarely mentioned in political reviews on the region’s development. She argues that leaders across the region have adopted the language of civil society inclusion and participatory governance but the existence of concerted efforts for the inclusion and participation of CSOs remains inadequate. Furthermore, she notes that their participation is limited to information sharing, selective cooperation and superficial consultation, especially during elections. Hinds (2019, p. 7) refers to this as ‘governing effectively rather than … governing democratically’ and contends that CSOs should be viewed as being critical to democracy, development and good governance. Despite many beneficial functions, some purport that CSOs are merely by-products of neoliberalism (Healey, 2015), whose good intentions and impacts are hindered due to power relations (Mercer, 2003). Additionally, Seng (2005) states that the level of influence of CSOs differs across host societies. The author indicates that social divisions within these small island territories hamper civil society’s influence in achieving sustainable development despite their small populations and geographical space. Connell (2018, p. 5) describes the approach to planning and policymaking for sustainable development as ‘top-down, interventionist, technocentric and ethnocentric’, and observes the absence of ‘a “collaborative learning society” to build individual knowledge, collective insights, effective governance, and civil society systems’. Moreover, he argues that in smaller island states, CSOs are weak and do not participate effectively in sustainable tourism initiatives owing to issues of ‘participation, trust, inclusion, ownership, and identity, that in most cases, reflect the centralization of power and authority’ (Connell 2018, p. 7). Hinds (2019, p. 29) aptly states that the CSOs do not exist within a neat and tidy sphere but ‘one that is political and riddled with internal contestation’. Bowen (2013), in his assessment of the capacity of Caribbean CSOs and their specific contributions to regional development and integration, indicated that only 17% were involved in sustainable development activities. Hinds (2019) posits that this may be so since Caribbean CSOs lack both capacity and capability, especially as the latter relates to technical expertise, resulting in them being viewed as deficient. In further analysis, Bowen (2013, p. 93) found that Caribbean CSOs were ‘hampered by scarce monetary resources, weak organizational capacity for effective strategic planning, and leadership deficiencies’. There are limited studies on the role of CSOs in sustainable tourism development especially for the tourist dependent region of the Caribbean. Finnetty (2001), in his discourse on the role of local NGOs in sustainable tourism, found that little attention has been given to the role of NGOs in sustainable development as it pertains to development activities such as tourism. In a study of the roles that local NGOs play in sustainable tourism in Belize, he argued that NGOs 18

Civil society and the pursuit of sustainable tourism in Tobago

are productive in the sense that they play an integral role in new product development for the tourism sector and they are facilitative in their advocacy and research efforts which contribute to destination development. He was able to determine that the most important role played by NGOs was their contribution to the management of protected area. Hummel (2011) also reviewed the role of stakeholders including NGOs in developing sustainable and responsible tourism in Belize. In her research she determined that CSOs were external change agents but were ignored by governing authorities who did not understand their role and potential contributions. These studies point to the critical need for a review and deeper grasp of the role played by these groups and the contribution that they can make. This is even more relevant since Finnetty (2001) identified other ways in which CSOs impact positively on tourism development which he speculated were related to marketing and promotion among other things. With regards to the future role of CSOs, in his view they should ideally be involved in policy influence and tourism planning through advocacy, education, research and training.

Methodology The study utilized semi-structured interviews conducted with state officials and members of CSOs in Tobago who were directly or indirectly involved in the UNESCO MaB programme. Nine strategic virtual interviews were completed over a period of three weeks using the communications platform Zoom. The two state officials interviewed were senior representatives of state agencies within the THA divisions, both of whom were directly involved in planning and executing the MaB project. Additionally, seven members of CSOs were interviewed and included chief executive officers and board directors. Four of the CSO members were directly involved in the MaB programme while the others made indirect contributions. All the interviewees, with one exception, were part of organizations that had signed the Environmental Partnership Declaration in 2019. The objective of these interviews was to gain an insight into the role of CSOs in the UNESCO MaB designation and, more specifically, to probe perspectives on the role and function of, and obstacles faced by, CSOs in sustainable tourism development. An interview guide consisting of 14 questions was used; these questions were developed using research objectives and existing literature. The questions posed sought to obtain respondents’ views on four a priori themes, including the role of CSOs in sustainable tourism development, challenges experienced by CSOs in relation to their contribution to sustainable tourism development, areas for improvement, and the nature of the relationship between CSOs and the public sector. These themes were identified from the core objectives of the research and existing literature. For a list of questions see the Appendix that appears at the end of the chapter.

Findings and discussion The role of CSOs in sustainable tourism development: the MaB project The MaB project was driven by one of the main CSOs on the island, ERIC. The impetus for this, according to ERIC’s representative, ‘was to prove to the stakeholders that sustainable approaches to development are beneficial for both nature, humans and for the entire system’. Not only was ERIC the instigator of the project, it also provided the technical expertise in preparing the proposal for funding for the Environmental Partnership Conference which propelled the process. It created opportunities for the environmental partnership by encouraging the German embassy to become involved in environmental sustainability issues in Tobago. This partnership with the German embassy is an example of the potential reach of the CSOs to 19

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tap into funding and support that the government and private sector cannot easily access. To quote another CSO participant, ‘we act as a facilitator – we facilitate those partnerships, and we try to make them sustainable’. ERIC’s close involvement in this project resulted in an improved sustainable tourism offering (Munene, 2021); environmental protection and regeneration (Burns, 1999) and valuable insights into policy processes and different perspectives (Scholte, 2004). Moreover, the MaB project clearly supported the views of Wu et al. (2021). A comment that was put forward by some respondents was that ‘the government cannot engage in sustainable tourism development alone’. In the words of one CSO coordinator, Now in the past five years, I would say particularly for CSOs, we are now being considered, our contributions to drafting policy development. And they recognize that there is expertise. I think the THA now recognizes that without the private sector and civil society, they cannot do it all themselves. By their own admission, the senior official from the THA noted that ‘civil society has a very major role, particularly for environmental management, protection and sustainability, because there’s only so much you can legislate. It means we have to depend a lot more on voluntary adherence to best practices’. Sustainable tourism development is often associated with the ‘socialization of tourism’ (Higgins-Desbiolles et al. 2021). Here the emphasis is on the engagement of a wider group of stakeholders in decision-making whereby local communities seem to be at the core. It is this pivot towards local communities that places CSOs in an influential position in progressing the sustainability agenda. As one CSO coordinator accurately stated, ‘we are the people who are on the ground, we know our communities, we know our people’. In this regard, CSOs have the opportunity to guide the behavioural patterns of the residents and the business practices of actors in the tourism industry. Relatedly, all the CSOs interviewed took pride in their role as environmental watchdogs. To quote a CSO official, ‘it helps to keep us honest and focused in a way that we are able to account for the things that we do, account for our stewardship’. Most respondent CSOs acknowledged their role in ‘providing information, knowledge, research, and intelligence’ on the ground and sharing international best practice in their respective areas of expertise (Finnetty, 2001). Two CSOs highlighted the range of training programmes, promotional videos and brochures developed for the various stakeholders on the island on how to protect the island’s reefs. The experience and expertise that reside in the CSOs allow them to contribute to the development of innovative products for the destination (Finnetty, 2001). The senior official from the destination management organization recognized their value when he acknowledged that ‘they form the most important aspect with some tourism products, because without them, you can’t have community-based tourism products, so they are extremely valuable in that aspect in terms of getting their buy-in’. In general, CSOs’ contributions included promoting awareness, monitoring, fund raising, providing research/information and technical support, promoting partnerships, and assisting the expansion of product offerings. These findings validate the sentiments of Sharma et al. (2021) who refer to the need for a ‘community-centred tourism framework’ as a means to resetting tourism.

Challenges The execution of the MaB project sends a clear signal to the powers that be that CSOs have a critical role to play in progressing the sustainable tourism development agenda (Hummel, 20

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2011). Concomitantly, the issues of a top-down approach to planning (Connell, 2018), superficial consultation (Hinds, 2019), and internal capacity constraints (Bowen, 2013) continue to be some of the challenges experienced by CSOs in this island context. Hinds’ (2019) claim that CSOs should have a seat at the table of tourism governance is echoed loudly among the CSOs interviewed and reaches to the core of the disquiet among these entities. According to one of the CSO respondent, There should be more roundtable discussions with civil society and the government. We should feel like we are all partners and not feel inferior to the other. Sometimes we don’t get the respect that we deserve. Because these are technocrats, in the government sector, they feel that they are more knowledgeable. The only time they realize that we are ahead of them is when they are on the ground and what we told them is what they see. This issue of respect highlighted by this particular CSO is shared by several other CSO officials who expressed views of ‘feeling used’; ‘only reached out to when in need’; ‘involving civil society is something that you kind of have to do so it looks good, but it’s not that necessary to policymakers’. This apparent ‘lack of respect’ explains to some extent the perpetuating of the top-down approach and the view of collaboration as ‘tokenism’. An area of concern is a lack of cooperation and intense competition between CSOs. One of the respondents, a senior government official, suggested that the state may need to take a ‘heavy-handed approach’ as CSOs grapple with internal deficiencies that negatively affect meaningful participation. The official explained why in some instances a top-down approach has to be adopted stating that ‘some of the challenges of involving them in a lot of projects is that most times depending on the community that you’re in, they may not be sure of their mandate, their role, etc. You can have a lot of infighting going on between groups. A lot of internal politics going on’. The government official touched on one of the challenges identified by Bowen (2013), that of internal politics; this brings to the fore the internal power relations (Mercer, 2003). The CSOs interviewed articulated some of the other areas of concern. Chief among them is the lack of funding and access to funding. ‘The lack of resources and finance really crippled CSOs. I mean, the passion is there, the drive is there, but if it doesn’t bring in money, they have to now find a teaching job’. Another CSO lamented, ‘funding is getting harder and harder to acquire because there’s a great demand on what little funding there is. So, you’re going to have to be able to have the capacity to apply [for funding] properly’. It is this latter point about internal capacity that is troubling for the majority of CSOs as the constraints in this area significantly hinder them from making a more impactful contribution to sustainable tourism development. The government official noted that CSOs ‘have this zeal for getting things done, they want certain things, but they don’t have the technical skills, or the capability or the knowhow to do it. And of course, they require some hand-holding’. The CSOs concede to this limitation, as noted by one coordinator, ‘CSOs lack capacity in a great way. You often find NGOs with very few staff, you know, one or two people having to wear several hats’. More specifically, ‘an association may have great intentions. But in order to access grants, which are difficult to get hold of in the first place, they need to be able to write good proposals, have quality finances, on all of these things. And sometimes they may not have the internal capacity to get all of this done’. Another dimension of the internal constraints is the issue of the image of CSOs. To quote one of the coordinators, ‘how you present yourself is really important’. Poor presentation can lead to CSOs being viewed as deficient (Hinds, 2019). One explanation provided by a CSO is 21

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that information is not always articulated clearly. Another CSO went further to suggest that ‘civil society groups sometimes come across as just being loud-mouths or whistle-blowers’, and that ‘diplomacy is important and CSOs also need to understand that just being a whistle-blower or loud-mouth and raising the alarm for everything does not get you all of the benefits or all of the inclusion and involvement that you seek. In fact, it alienates you at times’.

Areas for improvement The internal deficiencies of CSOs operating in small island states as documented by Bowen (2013), Connell (2018) and Hinds (2019) are expressly evident in the case of Tobago. Admittedly, the CSOs acknowledge that they have a responsibility to be proactive, strategic and well organized if they are to more effectively contribute to sustainable tourism development. According to one CSO coordinator, CSOs cannot sit back and expect everything to fall into their laps, they have to get up and get, like everything else in this life. There are opportunities for civil society groups to get involved and make their contribution. You do not just solely rely on government funding or private sector funding, you actually have to come up with ideas and things that are innovative. The MaB project is an example of how CSOs can grasp the opportunity to lead on sustainable development initiatives. This sustained proactive behaviour demands a shift in thinking among CSOs from a dependency syndrome on local government. One CSO aptly describes this syndrome as ‘when the situation is bad, they’re asking for government support. When the situation is good, and [the coffers are] full, then they don’t have time to contribute to society, be that in a social or environmental way or whatever – it’s just profit’. Coupled with a changed mind-set is the need to be strategic. As one CSO respondent put it If you want to be taken seriously you have to do your research as to who you’re talking to, what they stand for, what makes them tick, what they do not respond to and what they will definitely not take kindly to. You have to know that there is a time and place for everything. Understanding context is also very important.

Nature of government: CSO relationship As highlighted earlier in the discussion, the MaB project could not have been a success without the guidance and support of the CSOs. As such, going forward, the Tobago government also has to reassess the nature of its relationship with the CSOs. According to the majority of the CSOs interviewed, the most important area for improvement is respect: respect for opinion, time and commitment. This cry for respect is directly linked to the approach to collaboration that should be adopted. To quote one of the CSO respondents, ‘don’t just reach out to people when you need them or when you need to get an idea … consultation must be continuous’. It is a shift from superficial consultation (Hinds, 2019) to partners in destination governance. As one CSO aptly puts it, Government needs to re-engineer the way that they [CSOs] think about governance. They have been accustomed to being in charge and find it very difficult to give up responsibility and power. Whenever you have a government that is unwilling to give up 22

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responsibility, and is not ready to share power, then you do not have an appropriate environment for people to participate in decision-making. These findings provide useful insights into the roles that CSOs can play and have played in the case of Tobago in influencing the execution of projects relating to sustainable tourism. The results also reveal the role that CSOs should play in tourism governance in general and the challenges that need to be overcome in order to optimize their engagement in policy decisionmaking and implementation. The findings confirm the future roles identified by Finnetty (2001) that are becoming increasingly critical for post-pandemic recovery. It also provides key considerations for both the public sector and civil society to understand roles and responsibilities and manage expectations among themselves so that meaningful progress can be made towards sustainable tourism development.

Conclusion and implications As Caribbean SIDS contemplate the post-COVID-19 tourism realities, the notion of a regenerative approach to tourism development takes centre stage. This approach calls for the ‘socializing’ of tourism with communities at the core of development. The balancing of tourism development is even more critical in small island destinations where it tends to have major socioeconomic and environmental impacts. One aspect of such reframing of sustainable tourism is essential as destinations reassess the relationship between the state and policy actors in policy development and implementation. The attainment of the MaB designation in Tobago through the collaboration of the state and CSOs is testament to the fact that CSOs continue to be pivotal in the sustainable development of tourism not only in Tobago, but also by extension the Caribbean. A key outcome of this initiative is the development of the community through environmental conservation and preservation where man and nature co-exist. A key lesson for SIDS, notably those that are highly dependent on tourism, that can be derived from this study is the understanding that effective socialization of tourism requires a network of actors connected and engaged with local communities. As mentioned above, it is widely known that the engagement of communities/people is beneficial to sustainable tourism and development in general. CSOs are well positioned to mobilize individuals, and influence behaviour and decision-making within local communities. By their very nature, CSOs represent the socioeconomic and environmental concerns of community stakeholders. In this regard, their engagement as environmental watchdogs, cultural activists and builders of social capital is core to the pursuit of sustainable tourism. However, the findings from this case reveal that the level of impact of a CSO is directly related to the CSO’s level of technical expertise, the extent of its networks and its ability to leverage those networks. In other words, a strong CSO is technically proficient, well connected and a strategic networker. Furthermore, in a post-COVID-19 context, serious consideration must be given to the formal inclusion of CSOs in the governance structure of tourism in SIDS. This study highlights the need to change the relationship dynamic between the state and CSOs from ‘mere collaborators’ to ‘effective partners’ whereby CSOs are not merely consulted but are part of the decision-making core. Such a shift will have an impact on the overall tourism governance structure in SIDS.

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Appendix: interview guide 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

What prompted the Environmental Partnership Declaration to be signed in 2019? How has the Declaration impacted the tourism sector in Tobago? Who and what prompted the pursuit of the UNESCO MaB project? What policy is guiding sustainable tourism development in Tobago? What is the tourism policy development approach in Tobago? E.g. top-down, bottom-up, collaborative What do you see as the role of civil society in Tobago? How would you describe the nature of relationship between civil society organizations (CSOs), the private sector and the public sector in Tobago? What has been the influence of CSOs on the development of sustainable tourism in Tobago? What are some challenges for CSOs in Tobago as it relates to their contribution to sustainable tourism development? How can the relationship between CSOs and the public sector be improved for the betterment of the Tobago tourism sector? Should CSOs have a greater say in tourism policy development? If yes, how can this be achieved?

References Alipour, H., and Arefipour, T. (2020). Rethinking Potentials of Co-management for Sustainable Common Pool Resources (CPR) and Tourism: The Case of a Mediterranean Island. Ocean & Coastal Management, 183, 1–14. Anney, V. N. (2014). Ensuring the Quality of the Findings of Qualitative Research: Looking at Trustworthiness Criteria. Journal of Emerging Trends in Educational Research and Policy Studies, 5(2), 272–281. Baldacchino, G. (2021). Forward. In Managing Crises in Tourism (pp. v–xii). Cham: Palgrave Macmillan. Bowen, G. A. (2013). Caribbean Civil Society: Development Role and Policy Implications. Nonprofit Policy Forum, 4(1), 81–97. Briguglio, L. (2008). Sustainable Tourism in Small Island Jurisdictions with Special Reference to Malta. Journal of Tourism Research, 1(1), 29–39. Burns, P. (1999). Tourism NGOs. Tourism Recreation Research, 24(2), 3–6. Connell, J. (2018). Islands: Balancing Development and Sustainability? Environmental Conservation, 45(2), 111–124. Dodds, R., and Graci, S. (2012). Sustainable Tourism in Island Destinations. London: Routledge. Dredge, D. (2006). Networks, Conflict and Collaborative Communities. Journal of Sustainable Tourism, 14 (6), 562–581. Finnetty, S. (2001). Analyzing the Roles of Local Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs) in Sustainable Tourism: A Case Study of Belize, Central America. Doctoral dissertation. Waterloo, ON: Wilfrid Laurier University. Ghaus-Pasha, A. (2005). Role of Civil Society Organisations in Governance. 6th Global Forum on Reinventing Government Towards Participatory and Transparent Governance, 24 – 27 May, Seoul, pp. 24–27. Graci, S. (2013). Collaboration and Partnership Development for Sustainable Tourism. Tourism Geographies, 15(1), 25–42. Hall, C. M. (1999). Rethinking Collaboration and Partnership: A Public Policy Perspective. Journal of Sustainable Tourism, 7(3–4). Hall, C. M. (2011). A Typology of Governance and Its Implications for Tourism Policy Analysis. Journal of Sustainable Tourism 19(4–5), 437–457. Hall, C. M., and Jenkins, J. M. (1995). Tourism and Public Policy. A Companion to Tourism, 1(1), 523–540. Hampton, M. P., and Jeyacheya, J. (2020). Tourism-Dependent Small Islands, Inclusive Growth, and the Blue Economy. One Earth, 2(1), 8–10. Healey, P. (2015). Civil Society Enterprise and Local Development. Planning Theory & Practice, 16(1), 11–27.

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Higgins-Desbiolles, F., Bigby, B. C., and Doering, A. (2021). Socialising Tourism after COVID-19: Reclaiming Tourism as a Social Force? Journal of Tourism Futures, 8(2), 208–219. Higgins-Desbiolles, F., Carnicelli, S., Krolikowski, C., Wijesinghe, G., and Boluk, K. (2019). Degrowing Tourism: Rethinking Tourism. Journal of Sustainable Tourism, 27(12), 1926–1944. Hinds, K. (2019). Civil Society Organisations, Governance and the Caribbean Community. Springer International Publishing. Hummel, M. N. (2011). The Influence of Stakeholders on Stewardship Policies: Building Sustainable and Responsible Tourism in Belize. Doctoral dissertation. Tempe, AZ: University of Phoenix. McCool, S. F., and Bosak, K. (Eds) (2016). Reframing Sustainable Tourism. Dordrecht: Springer. Mercer, C. (2003). Performing Partnership: Civil Society and the Illusions of Good Governance in Tanzania. Political Geography, 22(7), 741–763. Moses-Wothke, J., Wothke, A., and Jordan, L. A. (2021) An Integrated Path Towards a Resilient Sector in North-East Tobago. In Managing Crises in Tourism (pp. 175–198). Cham: Palgrave Macmillan. Munene, J. W. (2021). Contributions and Challenges of Civil Society Organisations in Tourism in Kenya. In Tourism Destination Management in a Post-Pandemic Context. Bingley: Emerald Publishing. Ratcliffe, J. (2002). Scenario Planning: Strategic Interviews and Conversations. Foresight, 1, 19–30. Romagosa, F. (2020). The COVID-19 Crisis: Opportunities for Sustainable and Proximity Tourism. Tourism Geographies, 22(3), 690–694. Scholte, J. A. (2004). Civil Society and Democratically Accountable Global Governance. Government and Opposition, 39(2), 211–233. Seng, O. C. (2005). State-Civil Society Relations and Tourism: Singaporeanizing Tourists, Touristifying Singapore. Sojourn: Journal of Social Issues in Southeast Asia, 20(2), 249–272. Sharma, G. D., Thomas, A., and Paul, J. (2021). Reviving Tourism Industry Post-COVID-19: A Resilience-Based Framework. Tourism Management Perspectives, 37, 100786. Sheller, M. (2021). Reconstructing Tourism in the Caribbean: Connecting Pandemic Recovery, Climate Resilience and Sustainable Tourism through Mobility Justice. Journal of Sustainable Tourism, 29(9), 1436–1449. Tobago Tourism Agency Limited (2022). About Tobago Tourism. www.visittobago.gov.tt/corporate/a bout-tobago-tourism. UNESCO (2021). Man and the Biosphere (MaB) Programme. https://en.unesco.org/mab. Vergopoulos, H. (2018). Alternative Tourism and Civil Society in Athens. International Journal of Tourism Cities, 1, 51–62. Walker, T. B., and Lee, T. J. (2021). Contributions to Sustainable Tourism in Small Islands: An Analysis of the Cittàslow Movement. Tourism Geographies, 23(3), 415–435. World Travel & Tourism Council (2018). Travel and Tourism: Global Economic & Impact Update. London: World Travel & Tourism Council. Wu, J. S., Barbrook-Johnson, P., and Font, X. (2021). Participatory Complexity in Tourism Policy: Understanding Sustainability Programmes with Participatory Systems Mapping. Annals of Tourism Research, 90, 1–13. Yin, R. K. (2009). Case Study Research: Design and Methods. Vol. 5. Los Angeles, CA: SAGE.

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2 Engagement of civic organizations in environmental policies in Cabo Verde José Maria Gomes Lopes

Introduction Cabo Verde was described as a ‘fortunate’ island and a pristine ‘terrestrial paradise’ (Chevalier, 1935)1 when it was ‘rediscovered’ in the 1460s2 by Portuguese navigators. Nevertheless, the colonizers’ ‘maladministration of the land’ drove the country, over the years, towards an ‘ecological disaster’ (Lindskog and Delaite, 1996), thereby weakening its adaptive capacity to climate change vulnerabilities. By 1947, frequent waves of droughts and famines had decimated the lives of thousands of Cabo Verdeans (Lopes, 2021). Nonetheless, Cabo Verdean civic society never stood idly by during these disasters. Some renowned Cabo Verdean writers such as Baltasar Lopes da Silva (1997) and Manuel Lopes (2020), among others, sought to denounce the poverty and suffering of the local population. In the 1940s, the founding father of the Cabo Verdean nation, Amilcar Cabral, criticized the ‘appallingly shortsighted exploitation’ of the islands’ environmental resources (Lindskog and Delaite, 1996), and urged his countrymen to become politically active in order to halt the colonialists’ abusive land policy practices. Thus, the political independence movement he started in the 1950s, the Partido Africano da Independência da Guiné e Cabo Verde (African Party for the Independence of Guinea-Bissau and Cabo Verde), was both a political and an environmental resource liberation movement (Obi, 2005). Using Cabral’s mission as a foundation, this chapter examines how civil society has engaged in Cabo Verde’s post-independence environmental policymaking. The analysis is framed within three theoretical perspectives: political opportunity structures; framing; and resources mobilization. Thus, three leading questions are raised and answers attempted: what political conditions or opportunity structures have favoured the emergence, endurance and success of environmental civil society organizations (ECSOs) in Cabo Verde? How do the prevailing environmental frames affect ECSOs’ involvement, and how do these organizations engage within the existing frames or construct new ones? Finally, how do their framing tasks, techniques and outcomes depend on their resource availability? The analysis is based on in-depth desk research as well as empirical data gathered through interviews, surveys and news reports published by Cabo Verde’s mainstream media. Its goal is to find evidence to reveal any potential ‘causal’ relationships between the aforementioned 26

DOI: 10.4324/9781003341536-4

Engagement of civic organizations in environmental policies in Cabo Verde

structural conditions and the agency of the ECSOs. In addition, the chapter seeks to comprehend and identify the explanatory factors behind ECSOs’ development, involvement with the government and their successes, rather than analysing their internal dynamics. By achieving these goals, the chapter will offer insights that can help the reader to understand the extent of ECSOs involvement in other comparable cases, specifically the small island developing states (SIDS). The chapter is made up of six sections, the first of which introduces the study object and the explanatory variables. The theoretical foundations that frame ECSOs’ engagement are laid out in the second part. The third section describes the methodology used to carry out the analysis. The fourth and fifth sections provide and analyse the empirical data. The final section concludes the chapter by outlining the key findings and their implications for policymaking.

Civil society and environmentalism: in search of a theory ECSOs are nowadays ubiquitous in environmental and sustainable development policy circles, at international, national and local level. Organizations such as Friends of the Earth, the International Union for the Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources, the World Wild Fund for Nature and Greenpeace are ‘increasingly significant’ in setting international environmental policy agenda (Hansmann, 1980; Weisbrod, 1975; Wolf, 1988), and addressing the ‘failure of states to address continuing and accelerating environmental degradation’ (Tava, 2013, p. 742). Within national boundaries, ECSOs have been instrumental in ‘setting agendas, shaping discourses and influencing policies’ (Carter, 2007, p. 169), as they mobilize collective actions to either support or challenge public and private policies and projects in defence of environmental concerns. The publication of Silent Spring by the American marine biologist Rachel L. Carson in 1962, exposing the deleterious effects of synthetic pesticides (DDT) on human health and environment, triggered waves of contestant ECSOs across the world against the environmental threats and risks posed by the unbridled capitalists’ exploitation of environmental resources. ‘Risks’, argues Beck (1992), are ‘socially’ produced as the outcomes of ‘socially produced wealth’ as well. However, risks and wealth are unequally distributed because the majority of people – the poor – bear the brunt of the former, while the wealthy are the ones who appropriate and reap the benefits of the latter. As it is obvious that the ‘majority’ bear the greater share of environmental risks, ECSOs emerge to function as their ‘voices’ and as a defence against both public and private acts that cause such risks. Explaining the ‘emergence, endurance, and outcomes’ of ECSOs in the African context is nevertheless both ‘complex and fascinating’ (Sanches and Lopes, 2022, p. 20), as they interact with states and markets in a multiplex disproportional manner while vying for access to political and environmental resources. Unlike the Western ECSOs’ postmodernism discourse for a ‘better environment’ (Carter, 2007, p. 5), environmental groups and movements in Africa emerged in a context of exploitation, state repression and struggle (Nelson, 2003; Obi, 2005). The Movement for the Survival of Ogoni People in Nigeria, and the Green Belt Movement in Kenya are paradigmatic examples of ECSOs’ struggle to free their populations from both rapacious economic exploitation of their environmental riches and political exclusion (Ahmed and Potter, 2006, p. 211). In this sense, environmental movements in Africa also stand as ‘political movements’ (Obi, 2005), as they fight for the protection of their environmental riches and political emancipation. In SIDS such as Cabo Verde, environmental vulnerabilities and resource shortages increase the challenge for ECSOs’ engagement in policymaking processes, as there is a deeper power 27

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asymmetry between them, the state and investors. What role do they play in offsetting the government and market failures to protect environmental resources and local populations’ interests? ECSOs’ engagement with government entities are framed within three mainstream theoretical explanations in the social sciences: political opportunity structures (POS), as the ‘grand’ hypothesis (Diani, 1995; McAdam and Snow, 2010; Meyer and Minkoff, 2004; Skocpol et al., 2000; Tarrow, 2011; Tilly, 1995), and framing and resource mobilization as secondary hypotheses (Benford and Snow, 2000; Diani, 1995; Diani and Donati, 1999; Zald and McCarthy, 1987). POS are the institutional factors that either support or obstruct the emergence and the operation of civic organizations (Dalton et al., 2003, p. 18; Diani, 1995; Kitschelt, 1986; Kriesi et al., 1995). POS have four different dimensions: ‘the degree of openness/ closure of formal political access; the degree of stability/instability of political alignments, the availability and strategic positions of potential alliance partners, and “political conflicts within and among elites’ (Kriesi et al., 1995, p. 2). POS arise as elections, government, culture, science and technology (Almeida and Stearns, 1998) create openings for civic organizations to flourish, and through collective action influence government decisions. In contexts where opportunities are lacking, engagement of civic organizations is either weak or non-existent. On the other hand, where opportunities exist, these organizations participate actively in the interactive process of ‘reality construction’ (Benford and Snow, 2000, p. 614), either through cooperative means or through contentious politics (Tarrow, 2011). Framing refers to the agency role in the process of a frame or a ‘reality construction’ (Benford and Snow, 2000). Actors discontented with a given ‘conventional reality’ mobilize collective actions to articulate and ‘express’ grievances (Taylor, 2000, p. 511), and to organize and defend their interests. According to Gamson and Lasch (1981), a frame is composed of the following elements: core frame, position, metaphors and catchphrases, roots and consequences. In addition to these elements, a frame also rests on a set of framing strategies, as amplification (raising the issue salience), bridging (creating alliances) and transformation (challenging the status quo) (Benford and Snow, 2000). By contextualizing and providing meaning to the issue, this frame structure grabs the attention of the public and the political players. The success of ECSOs in influencing environmental policy rests heavily on their capacity to employ these framing techniques. Finally, resource mobilization theory refers to the capacity of individuals and ECSOs to generate resources as public engagement, technical, political and financial support for their frame. Although POS and grievances may exist, there is little that people can do to embark on the process of a new reality construction (Zald and McCarthy, 1987) without the aforementioned resources. Therefore, ECSOs’ success in influencing environmental policy change depends on both their agency (their framing tactics and resource mobilization capabilities) and the POS available to them (Harper and Snowden, 2017; McAdam and Snow, 2010). In this chapter, focus is given to the first three dimensions of POS, framing and the resource mobilization, as the hypotheses to explain the engagement of ECSOs in Cabo Verde.

Method and data collection This research is a case study that focuses on the involvement of ECSOs in the development of environmental policies (dependent variable) in one case (country), Cabo Verde. Similarly to other SIDS, Cabo Verde is exposed to environmental issues such as drought, erosion, rising sea levels and endangered species. In order to better grasp the case under study, the analysis is based on both qualitative and quantitative data, and therefore integrates text with numerical information. 28

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Qualitative data were gathered from technical studies and policy documents, as well as official government sources. Additionally, narratives and supportive discourses of environmental frame construction were parsed by consulting news articles from the mainstream printed and online periodicals. Furthermore, face-to-face and email interviews were conducted with four ECSO leaders: three at national level, and one at community level. One of the national ECSOs was founded during the single party regime, and the other at the outset of the democratic transition, in 1991. The third is a community protectionist group. These three organizations are institutionalized ECSOs that either complement or supplement the efforts of the government under the guise of a ‘third-party government’ (Salamon, 1995), while the fourth is an ‘adversarial’ type of ECSO. Regarding quantitative information, a four-page semi-structured questionnaire was sent to 32 out of 46 ECSOs identified through the Cabo Verde NGO Platform (Plataforma das ONG de Cabo Verde, 2015), data from the National Directorate of Environment, expert interviews and social media searches. The other 14 ECSOs could not be reached by either telephone or email, despite several attempts by the researcher. The questionnaire asked ECSOs about their organizational structure, their intervention areas, their activities, the extent of their cooperation with government and other entities, and their sources of financing. Only 18 of the 32 ECSOs responded to the surveys via email, and another was completed via a telephone interview, totalling 19 ECSOs, or 59 per cent of the sample. Nine of these ECSOs are national organizations whose activities span the national territory, while seven are regional organizations that operate only in the islands where they are based. The other three are community organizations. Appendix 1 at the end of this chapter provides further details of the sample ECSOs.

ECSOs in Cabo Verde: understanding their emergence and engagement with the state Cabo Verde has evolved from an ‘unviable’ country into one of the most democratic nation states (Baker, 2006) and a ‘success story’ (African Development Bank, 2012) in Africa. Its democratic and economic trajectories are the outcomes of a synergistic state and civil society relationship built over the years across several sectors (Lopes, 2018). Looking at the environmental sector, the engagement of civil society with the state has been instrumental in helping the country to overcome its vulnerabilities and trigger sustainable development. Approximately 50 of the 850 CSOs that are currently officially recognized in Cabo Verde are ‘non-governmental organizations for the defence and conservation of environment’ (Topliyski et al., 2020). Civic environmental conscience has grown over the years, as 79.4 per cent of the aforementioned CSOs are aware of environmental concerns when implementing projects (Topliyski et al., 2020). Nevertheless, little is known about the origin, evolvement and engagement of specialized ECSOs with the Cabo Verdean government and other entities, despite their pervasiveness in the environmental policy process. This section seeks to shed light on the explanatory factor of POS, framing and resources to explain the background to the emergence and evolution of ECSOs and their relationship with the government in the formulation and implementation processes of environmental policies in Cabo Verde.

Political opportunity structures Openness of formal political access When Cabo Verde gained its independence in 1975, the new national government made the issue of land protection and restoration one of the cornerstones of its ‘National Reconstruction’ 29

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programme in order to reduce the country’s climate vulnerabilities. Alongside a nationwide programme of tree planting, under the government’s emergency AIMO (High Intensity of Manpower) programme a large number of low-income individuals were hired to undertake low-skilled soil and water conservation works (Challinor, 2008). Rural extensionists provided local farmers with training throughout the country, and assisted them in forming associations as a strategy to encourage communities to embrace environmentally friendly agricultural methods. These associations evolved into the first generation of ECSOs in Cabo Verde. The first national ECSO, Amigos da Natureza, was established in 1977 in São Vicente, and was promoted by a group of resourceful environmental enthusiasts who wanted to engage both voluntarily and financially in government plantation campaigns. A second generation of ECSOs emerged as distinct and independent institutions from the state in the wake of the democratic transition of 1990, thanks to new POS created by that shift. In accordance with Article 70 of the new Constitution issued in 1992, the ‘State shall stimulate and support the creation of associations to defend the environment and protect natural resources’ in collaboration with public institutions. The Cabo Verdean government fully involved Amigos da Natureza and the Association for the Defence of the Environment (ADAD, founded in 1991) in the nation’s preparations for the United Nations (UN) Conference on Environment and Development, also known as the Rio de Janeiro Earth Summit, in 1992. These organizations were then included in the country’s delegation to the conference, chaired by the President of Cabo Verde, António Mascarenhas Monteiro. The environmental law enacted on 26 June 1993 (law no. 86/IV/93) gave substance to the aforementioned constitutional statement, by asserting that ‘different social groups must intervene in the formulation and execution of environment and territory policies’ (art. 3, d). It reiterates that representatives of environmental defence associations (art. 38: 2,3) must be integrated in the municipal specialized environmental commissions in order to monitor the full application of the law itself. In addition, it foresees a set of state benefits and tax incentives for ECSOs, which leverage their participation in the policymaking process. These institutional reforms propelled the rapid increase in the number of local associations in the 1990s and in the first decade of 2000s (Lopes, 2018; Plataforma das ONG de Cabo Verde, 2015). These organizations played a major role in the execution of government land protection and restoration projects in the 1990s (Challinor, 2008). Nevertheless, despite their political separation from the ruling party, this second generation of ECSOs limited their activities within the conventional government environmental policy frames, demonstrating little capacity to challenge the state. It was only in the second decade of 2000s that a third generation of ECSOs emerged in Cabo Verde. This generation has distinguished itself from the previous two by employing a more ‘emancipatory’ (Doherty and Doyle, 2006, p. 709) and contentious form of environmentalism. It includes a mix of eco-affiliated and NIMBY (Not In My Back Yard) groups that are more committed to struggling for environmental justice than to aligning with the Table 2.1 ECSOs’ access to political authorities (17 responses out of 19)

Access to central government authorities Access to local government authorities Access to official information Source: compiled by the author.

30

No access

Little access

Some access

Frequent access

No response

5.90%

35.30%

35.30%

23.50%

n.a.

5.90%

11.80%

29.4%

52.90%

n.a.

5.90%

11.80%

47.10%

17.60%

17.60%

Engagement of civic organizations in environmental policies in Cabo Verde

government’s conventional discourses. Its emergence is explained by the aforementioned POS added to a set of sociocultural factors including the world environmentalism diffusion (Giugni and Grasso, 2015), the ‘New Left’ Movement (Doherty and Doyle, 2006), and a wider access to means of communication such as social media platforms which were not available to the previous generations. As the section below illustrates, the third generation of ECSOs has been spurred by the activists’ perception of environmentally exclusive policies and projects that create environmental victims in the country. These ECSOs are the leading sponsors of the environmental injustice frame in Cabo Verde, which is dealt with in the next section. Table 2.1 presents the results of the survey carried out with 19 ECSOs, assessing their level of access to national and local governments, as well to official information from these institutions, which is crucial for their operations. The data displayed further exemplify the political access variable. Of the ECSOs surveyed 6 per cent stated that they have ‘no access’ to central government authorities, compared to 35 per cent who stated that they have ‘little access’ to these authorities. On the other hand, 35 per cent stated that they have ‘some access’, and 24 per cent that they have ‘frequent access’. Meanwhile, 6 per cent of the ECSOs have ‘no access’ to local government authorities and 12 per cent ‘little access’. Moreover, 29 per cent of the ECSOs reported having ‘some access’, while 53 per cent stated that they have ‘frequent access’ to local authorities. The data imply that it is easier for ECSOs to connect with the local authorities than with the central authorities. This is quite acceptable given that ECSOs must work in tandem with local municipal authorities in order to carry out their activities. ECSOs are still limited in their ability to access official information from both local and central authorities. Although only 6 per cent of ECSOs claim to have ‘no access’ to official information and 12 per cent ‘little access’, the percentage who claim to have ‘frequent access’ is likewise low, at 18 per cent, which suggests that they are frequently ignorant about their engagement process. However, when considering the proportion of ECSOs that claim to have ‘some’ or ‘frequent access’ to government and official information, it can be said that overall ECSOs have profited from formal political openness, which has helped them to grow and evolve over the years (Plataforma das ONG de Cabo Verde, 2015; Santos, 2017; Topliyski et al., 2020).

Stability of political alignments CSOs in Cabo Verde are by law (law no. 28/III/87, 31 December) independent from political parties or other political bodies. Nevertheless, it has been found that their prospects are improved when the left-wing Partido Africano da Independência de Cabo Verde is in power (Lopes, 2018), while the right-wing party Movimento Para a Democracia views them with distrust (Challinor, 2008). Like other CSOs, ESCOs do not have any formal linkages with political parties. There are no legally recognized eco-affiliated parties in Cabo Verde. All the mainstream political parties embed environmental concerns in their electoral and government platforms. When asked about their linkages with political parties, the leaders of 10 out of the 19 ECSOs stated that they have ‘no cooperation’ with political parties or other groupings. Five leaders stated that they had only ‘weak cooperation’ and one that their organization had ‘some cooperation’ with political parties. According to one interviewee, political parties must have an indirect influence on the selection of organizations to receive funding, especially local organizations. Leaders who are linked to the opposition parties might be sidelined and their organizations may not receive funding from the government. That’s why in the same municipality there are associations that continue to receive funding year after year, while others do not. 31

José Maria Gomes Lopes

This unofficial connection occurs at the level of interpersonal relationships and benefits the funding of politically friendly ESCOs while restricting public funding for the unfriendly ones. Opposition parties frequently criticize this conduct in public. However, the authorities usually ‘discredit’ and ignore the criticisms as they are difficult to formally verify. Despite the lack of any statutorily formal linkages between ECSOs and the mainstream political parties, political stability, as a dimension of POS, still matters for the engagement of the former organizations, as a result of the aforementioned informal linkages.

Alliance partners This POS dimension is crucial to the survival and prosperity of ECSOs in Cabo Verde. Since they do not have institutional affiliations to political parties, ECSOs rely heavily on other partners, such as national and international NGOs, for technical and financial support, as well as the media for their advocacy work (Table 2.2). One ECSO leader stated during an interview that ‘currently we are not implementing any projects funded by the government. Our projects are being funded by our international partners, including those from the West Africa’. An intriguing fact is that almost half of all the ECSOs surveyed were founded by foreigners who continued to serve as their ‘ambassadors’ even after leaving the country. In the 1990s, local farmer associations were buttressed by foreign NGOs with financial support from their home countries. One of these NGOs is the Agricultural Cooperative Development International (ACDI-VOCA), a US non-profit organization supported by the US Agency for International Development (USAID) (Challinor, 2008). This trend continues today. For instance, one government project, REFLOR-CV3 (2017 –22), funded by the European Union (EU) and executed by the Food and Agriculture Organization of the UN (FAO), hired 22 local associations in the islands of Santiago, Fogo and Boa Vista to implement field activities in their respective communities. In fact, 66.5 per cent of the ECSOs that participated in the interview affirmed that funding by foreign NGOs has ‘some’ or ‘high significance’ for the execution of their projects. By the same token, 80 per cent of them believed that financial contributions from international organizations have ‘some’ or ‘high significance’ for the success of their operations. On the other hand, financial provision made available by national NGOs is extremely meagre. Their support focuses on issues including sharing technical expertise with smaller organizations. Thus, alliance partners have provided crucial support for Cabo Verdean ECSOs engagement efforts.

Table 2.2 ECSOs’ alliance partnership

Cooperation with Cooperation with Cooperation with organizations Cooperation with

No cooperation

Weak cooperation

Some cooperation

Strong cooperation

national NGOs foreign NGOs international

n.a. 6.30% n.a.

23.50% 18.80% 11%

35.30% 37.50% 50%

41.20% 37.50% 38.90%

the media

11.80%

41.20%

17.60%

29.40%

Source: compiled by the author.

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Engagement of civic organizations in environmental policies in Cabo Verde

Framing: constructing environmental realities Discourse analysis (Hajer and Versteeg, 2005) of debates and narratives on environmental issues in Cabo Verde shows the coexistence of two major environmental frames: conservation, protection and sustainable development on the one hand, and environmental injustice (Taylor, 2000) on the other. The former represents the mainstream conventional government discourses and policy actions, whereas the latter is an emerging counter-frame that is propelled by victims of environmental injustices.

Conservation, protection and sustainable development: a participatory approach ECSOs assume two forms within the conservation, protection and sustainable development frame (Table 2.3): the ‘conformist partners’ who act under the ‘convenient tutelage’ of the government (Francisco et al., 2008), and the ‘insider reformists’ (Carter, 2007, p. 144), who seek to enact change from the within. The former form includes the small community associations and a few low-profile ECSOs that do not criticize government policy status quo. The latter form, despite aligning with the government’s core purposes of protection, conservation and development policy process, openly advocates for change in the implementation strategies, by giving them a more participatory role in the process. This frame develops around claims made by ‘reformists’. The frame’s core position is that ECSOs ought to be more actively engaged and given a more prominent status in the environmental protection, conservation and sustainable development policy process along with government institutions. In order to highlight the government’s inefficiency in implementing environmental policies, ECSOs use media and social media outlets extensively to publicize photos of species being decimated and other ecological damage. They utilize this communication tactic to argue for increased institutional and monetary support so that they can successfully carry out their initiatives for environmental protection, conservation, and sustainable development. In June 2011, Carreta Carreta, a turtle protection organization, denounced the killing of massive sea turtles along the coasts of Mangue, Praia Baixo and Achada Baleia on the island of Santiago, blaming the government for its inefficient surveillance programme and criticizing it for failing to support the organization, which could have saved those species.4 By the same token, Biosfera I, an ECSO based in São Vicente Island, Table 2.3 The conservation, protection and sustainable development frame

Core frame

How to guarantee the effective protection and conservation of the country’s rare species and biodiversity, while promoting development.

Core position

ECSOs should take a participatory role in environmental protection and conservation policies and government should support them in their endeavour. ECSOs are more efficient than the government. ‘Images of species’ (e.g. turtles) often being released to the sea; dead turtles’ shells on deserted shores. Government efficiency; lack of environmental sensitization; public participation in sustainable development. Environmental sustainability, poverty alleviation. Avoiding the endangerment of Cabo Verde’s endemic species, and damage to its biodiversity. Amplification, diffusion, bridging.

Catchphrases, and visual images Roots Appeals to moral principle Consequences Strategic framing Source: compiled by the author.

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recently attacked the government for ‘abandoning’ the Ilhéu Raso, a national natural reserve, since unauthorized divers were endangering the local biodiversity and the volunteers who guard the area. Biosfera I even threatened to call off its voluntary surveillance efforts in the area, as the government was being unresponsive to its proposal for a co-management plan for the reserve, which would provide them with more institutional power and resources to carry out their work. The government has been somewhat complacent about the claims presented to it, and occasionally has provided token responses to the critics.

Environmental Injustice Environmental injustice is an emerging frame that is being driven by people who see themselves as the victims of economic exploitation of environmental resources, and of unfriendly environmental activities (Taylor, 2000) in urban residential areas. This frame began to gain salience at the beginning of the second decade of the 21st century, as the development of large hotel resorts claimed land and depleted resources once accessible to local communities, who in turn became the victims. The supporters of environmental injustice frame challenge the ‘demagogic’ discourse of ‘development promotion’ by questioning whether the financial benefits of resort development exceed the harm they do to local communities and biodiversity. The core position of this frame is that residents’ right of access to local resources and a safe environment should be preserved and unhampered by business exploiters. The frame’s major advocators are ECSOs, environmentalists and common citizens who publicly oppose the construction of hotels and other tourist facilities along the coast, and environmentally unfriendly construction activities in residential neighbourhoods. In 2012, a group of environmentalists, surfers and inhabitants in Sal island attempted to obstruct the construction of a breakwater in Baía do Algodoeiro, which would have benefited a high-end hotel facility in the area. The local population and environmental groups launched a series of protests and petitions against the construction of the breakwater, after the government approved it, claiming that ‘the Environmental Impact Study [of the project] has not carried out an economic analysis of the impact on the population’.5 In August 2015, a movement named Korrenti di Ativista opposed the construction of the Gamboa Resort along the Gamboa beach and Santa Maria islet in Praia city. As the activists camped on the islet in protest, they appealed to Cabo Verdeans to ‘wake up’ to the false development promises being made by the investors and the government, and to Table 2.4 The environmental injustice frame

Core frame

How to preserve biodiversity and the rights of the local population in the face of tourism industry expansion and exploitation.

Core position

Residents’ right of access to local resources and a safe environment should be preserved in the face of economic exploitation. ‘Só o turismo interessa’ ‘Salvar…’; ‘Não sei onde é que vamos parar’ (Only tourism matters’; ‘Rescue…’; ‘I don’t know where is it all going to end’). Economic exploitation/tourism construction occupation Preserving the right of local residents to resources, space, health and tranquillity. Environmental destruction, health problems. Amplification, diffusion; bridging, alliance, ‘contestation’.

Catchphrases and visual images Roots Appeals to moral principle Consequences Strategic framing

Source: compiled by the author.

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Engagement of civic organizations in environmental policies in Cabo Verde

protect the ecology of the islet, its historic value and symbolism, and to prevent the city from the injustices and the boomerang ills that project would yield in the future. The Laginha movement, which began in 2018, is another example. When the local government decided to commence a project to drain flood water onto Laginha Beach in Mindelo, a group of disgruntled residents on São Vicente island, including surfers, divers and biologists, launched the movement for the preservation of the coral reef of Laginha Beach in Mindelo. The group championed waves of protests, petitions and other activities designed to oppose and thwart the local government plan. During a protest in September 2019 the leader of the movement stated that their struggle was ‘in tune with the whole world right now’, echoing the global environment justice movement appealing for the right of local populations to enjoy their environmental resources. New movements such as Movimento 350 Cabo Verde, informal NIMBYs and several bridging eco-affiliated groups (ecofeminism, ecotourism, eco-sports), have recently spoken out against and opposed economic interests, practices and behaviours that not only threaten the environment, but also jeopardize the interests of local communities. Nevertheless, it is too early to talk about their success over the dominant ‘development’ frame, which builds on strong roots and support from the state, business and a wide range of civil society players. However, as the frame itself, success is the outcome of an ongoing construction process, and it seems that the contentious ECSOs are willing to engage in such a construction.

Resource mobilization The capacity of CSOs to influence policy decisions depends largely on their human, financial and political resources (Zald and McCarthy, 1987). POS and framing strategies are crucial, but in the absence of such resources, the agency role of the entrepreneurs would have little or no effect at all. Cabo Verdean ECSOs are usually founded by resourceful and socially well-placed individuals, nationals and foreigners, who have used their social status, expertise, experience and ability to mobilize financial and human resources to engage others in environmental protection/conservation initiatives. Insider ECSOs, both the conformists and the reformists, despite counting on the financial support of their partners and permanent paid staff, also count on volunteers to undertake their activities. The outsider ECSOs operate primarily with volunteers. Cabo Verdean CSOs, especially the community-based organizations, rely heavily on state subsidies and donations to implement their programmes. About 39 per cent of their funding comes from central and local governments (Plataforma das ONG de Cabo Verde, 2015). A recent report shows that state and international funding continue to have a significant impact on their ability to implement projects (Topliyski et al., 2020). The Global Environmental Facility Small Grants Programme (GEF SGP), for instance, prioritizes direct engagement with ECSOs or other CSOs as a way to enhance and strengthen their capacity to ‘influence policies and change environmental attitudes’ (UNDP, 2015). Since 2009, the GEF SGP ‘has already funded 136 environmental local development projects to CSOs, an investment of USD $3,656,125, approximately 340,000,000 Cabo Verde escudos’ (UNDP, 2020). According to reports from the Direcção Geral de Agricultura, Silvicultura e Pecuária (DGASP – General Directorate of Agriculture, Forestry and Livestock), the Ministry of Agriculture and Environment funded community associations for the implementation of small-scale environmental projects totalling 33,719,079 Cabo Verde escudos, or roughly €305,841,68, between 2017 and 2021 (Table 2.5). These organizations carried out significant and laudable local development, conservation and preservation programmes despite not being specialized ECSOs. Meanwhile, between March 2021 and January 2022, the Direção Nacional do 35

José Maria Gomes Lopes

Table 2.5 Funds transferred to local associations by the DGASP (figures in Cabo Verde escudos)

Year

Amount

2017 2018 2019 2020 2021 Total

14,531,102 1,310,640 1,704,434 8,999,031 7,173,872 33,719,079

Source: compiled by the author using data provided by the DGASP.

Table 2.6 Significance of partners’ donations on ECSOs’ project implementation

Foreign NGOs International organizations Central government/state subvention

No funding

Insignificant

Low significance

Some significance

High significance

1 (6.7%) 1 (6.7%)

2 (13.3%) n.a.

2 (13.3%) 2 (13.3%)

2 (13.3%) 3 (20%)

8 (53%) 9 (60%)

2 (12.5%)

4 (25%)

5 (31.3%)

4 (25%)

1 (6.3%)

Source: compiled by the author.

Ambiente (National Directorate of Environment) signed agreements worth 11,400,000 Cabo Verde escudos with 12 ECSOs to carry out environmental initiatives. The preservation and conservation of sea turtles were the subject of 10 of these 12 contracts. According to the leader of an ECSO, national, municipal and international organizations are increasingly aware that ‘CSOs, especially the ECSOs, have the know-how to implement projects, and they are often more effective than the government’. That is why financing from foreign NGOs and other international organizations has a big impact for the operations of ECSOs. Of the ECSOs interviewed 80 per cent agreed that financing from international organizations has ‘some’ or ‘high significance’ for the implementation of their projects, compared to 66.3 per cent who attributed the same values for funding from NGOs. On the other hand, as Table 2.6 shows, government funding has much lower significance.

ECSOs and the government: navigating between complementary, supplementary and adversarial relationships Data collected via interviews, surveys and analysis of official reports suggest that the relationship between ECSOs and the government falls within the two broad environmental frames described above. Most ECSOs’ complementary or supplementary work is restricted within the conservation/protection and development frame. By aligning with the government conventional frame, ECSOs either behave as conformist partners or pursue an ‘insider reformist strategy’ (Carter, 2007), aiming to improve their status within the frame on the argument of policy efficiency. Where the ‘state is absent’, ECSOs tend to mobilize participatory resources from their members or other partners to fill in that gap (Bierschenk and Sardan, 1997). On the other hand, ‘outsider’ ECSOs are more committed to constructing an alternative frame (the injustice 36

Engagement of civic organizations in environmental policies in Cabo Verde

frame), by frequently resorting to disruptive tactics to oppose government-approved projects or policies that threaten their interests (See Table 2.7). The above-mentioned protests championed by movements in Praia, Sal and São Vicente are just some examples of contentious politics (Tarrow, 2011) led by these outsiders. The government authorities appear to be listening to the ECSOs’ increasingly strident voices, since they have had an impact on the adoption and revision of some of the key environmental legislation and policies to address some of their most salient complaints. The law on noise pollution (Law No. 34/VIII/2013, 24 July), the environmental impact studies (Decree-Law No. 27/2020), and the measures for the conservation and protection of the national flora and fauna (Decree-Law No. 8/2022, 6 April) are some examples of laws that have been adopted and reviewed. The advocacy work of the ECSO Lantuna, in collaboration with other members of civil society, led the government to recognize Baia do Inferno and Monte Angra on Santiago Island as a natural park of international importance (Decree-Law No. 3/2021, 9 April). When examining the ECSOs’ strategies and activities, it is evident that the majority engage in collaborative activities, namely in complementary and supplementary roles, rather than in contentious politics against the government or other entities. Most ECSO leaders stated that they either ‘sometimes’ or ‘often’ participate in government-organized consultative meetings and studies, or request government funds to implement projects. On the other hand, only a few ECSOs actively participate in activities in order to openly criticize or oppose the government, while very few have ever taken legal action against the government or private entities for breaching or violating environmental laws, even though the law does give them this prerogative. In fact, when asked to describe and evaluate their relationship and cooperation with government entities, only one ECSO leader out of 19 describes it as ‘conflictual’, while the majority state that there is ‘some’ or ‘strong’ cooperation with the government (Figure 2.1). Thus, the line that demarcates the three types of relationships between ECSOs and the government – complementary, supplementary and adversary – is very blurry. ECSOs that are invited to participate in the development of specific policies pertaining to their areas of interest on one occasion may be excluded from the implementation phase on another, and vice versa. For example, in an email interview, the CEO of one of Cabo Verde’s top ECSOs said: our participation in environmental policymaking processes is very limited, if not nonexistent. This is because we are not invited to participate in these processes or in the public debate. We regret this because our knowledge of the environment and its challenges would undoubtedly provide important inputs to the environmental policymaking process. Table 2.7 Linkages between the government and ECSOs

Conservation/protection/sustainable development frame

Environment injustice frame

Roles Resources

Supplementary, complementary Government subsidies International cooperation

Adversarial, challenging Member/volunteer participation Social capital

Strategies

Institutionalized; acting as third-party government, under the government’s convenient tutelage; insider reformist

Protest, petition; confrontation

Source: compiled by the author.

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José Maria Gomes Lopes

Table 2.8 ECSOs’ strategies and activities for engagement

Strategies/activities

Never

Rarely

Sometimes

Often

Participate in consultative meetings convened by central/local government Participate in surveys requested by central/local government Participate in technical sessions organized by public entities Conduct and present technical studies and law proposals Request funds from central/local government Give press conferences, promoting and participating in demonstrations Use social media to protest Promote and participate in rallies, conferences and other public events (advocacy) Litigate against the government or private entities for environmental damage

1 (5.9%)

n.a.

8 (47.1%)

8 (47.1%)

1 (6.3%)

2 (12.5%)

6 (37.5%)

7 (43.8%)

n.a.

n.a.

8 (47.1%)

9 (52.9%)

3 (17.6%)

6 (35.3%)

2 (11.8%)

6 (35.3%)

3 (17.6%)

4 (23.5%)

4 (23.5%)

6 (35.3%)

4 (25%)

7 (43.8%)

3 (18.8%)

2 (12.5%)

7 (41.2%) 4 (25%)

4 (23.5%) 6 (37.5%)

1 (5.9%) 3 (18.8%)

5 (29.4%) 3 (18.8%)

12 (75%)

2 (12.5%)

2 (12.5%)

n.a.

Source: compiled by the author using survey results.

Figure 2.1 Extent of ECSOs’ cooperation with the central government Source: compiled by the author.

38

Engagement of civic organizations in environmental policies in Cabo Verde

Despite operating within the traditional frameworks of protection, conservation and sustainable development, this ECSO has openly criticized the environmental authorities for being overly bureaucratic and centralized, and for not allowing it to participate in the policymaking process as a representative of civil society. The complementary and supplementary roles are carried out widely by the conformist partners, but mainly by the more resourceful and institutionalized ECSOs such as ADAD and Biosfera I, which often engage in diagnosing studies of critical environmental issues and mobilizing resources to address them. Meanwhile, non-institutionalized organizations with few resources – the outsiders and the environmental injustice framers – tend to take a more antagonistic stance since they rely more heavily on public support and volunteer engagement to bolster their arguments.

Understanding the ECSOs’ engagement outcomes The insider reformist and contentious partner ECSOs in Cabo Verde are real ‘engines of change’ (Crutchfield, 2018, p. 8) that actively engage in reframing the existing and the dominant environmental frame and constructing a new one, namely the emerging injustice frame. Therefore, it is quintessentially important to comprehend how much of an impact they have on the environmental policymaking process. Focusing first on the contentious ECSOs and their counter-conventional frames, the data provided in the sections above show that these organizations have had difficulty resonating with the wider public idea of ‘development promotion’ and ‘progress’ represented by the big infrastructural investment projects, despite the threats they pose to the environment. Such a difficulty is due to a still weak mobilization of participatory and institutional resources in support of the injustice frame. For instance, Korrenti di Ativistas and NIMBY groups in Praia failed to halt the construction of the Gamboa resort or to force the dislocation of a gas station installed within a residential neighbourhood. By the same token, ECSOs in Sal island could not prevent the construction of the Kebra Mar, despite having the support of the local population and expert studies. Nevertheless, despite their apparent failure to successfully persuade and lead the wider population to ‘believe the changes they seek are fair and right’ (Crutchfield, 2018, p. 13), the contentious ECSOs in Cabo Verde have so far demonstrated resiliency and have been able to sustain the injustice frame, while inspiring and influencing other local grassroots initiatives of contentious collective actions against environmental injustice practices. When a frame fails to win at a specific point in time, it does not vanish from view. Environmental injustice in Cabo Verde is part of the public civic space debate. One illustration of the pervasiveness of the injustice frame in the public sphere is the stance that many people and ECSOs have publicly adopted on the question of the fishing agreement between the Cabo Verdean state and the EU. As Crutchfield argues, ‘change involves sustained campaigns’ (2018, p. 3), and ECSOs seem to be determined to engage in these campaigns and pursue changes despite the opposition they face. On the other hand, the insider reformist ECSOs have been able to exert some influence on the environmental policy outcomes. In the case of the Plano de Acção Nacional Para o Ambiente (PANA II – National Action Plan for the Environment), ECSOs were asked to evaluate their influence on the elaboration, implementation and outcomes of this policy. The two extant ECSOs at the time the policy was elaborated, Amigos da Natureza and ADAD, were actively involved.6 PANA II was implemented from 2004–14. Of the 19 ECSO leaders surveyed, 60 per cent (Figure 2.2) stated that their organizations had received funding or contracts to carry out PANA II-related initiatives. Nevertheless, only 23.1 per cent of them thought that their ECSOs had any influence on the outcomes of the policy, suggesting that the government or other factors had a stronger influence on the policy results. However, when asked if they had any influence on the formation and execution of environmental policies, programmes or legislation pertaining to their areas of operations 64.7 per cent of 39

José Maria Gomes Lopes

Figure 2.2 The influence of ECSOs on PANA II Source: compiled by the author.

Figure 2.3 ECSOs’ influence on specific environmental policies, programmes or legislation Source: compiled by the author.

40

Engagement of civic organizations in environmental policies in Cabo Verde

the ECSO leaders claimed that they had had some influence on the elaboration of specific policies, while 66.7 per cent stated they had participated directly in the implementation of these policies. However, with regard to their direct influence on the policies’ results or outcomes, only 23.1 per cent of the leaders thought that their contributions had had an impact (Figure 2.3). One policy often cited during the interviews was the Decree-Law No. 1/2018 establishing the special legal regime for the protection and conservation of sea turtles in Cabo Verde. The emergence, endurance and outcomes of ECSOs, as it has been demonstrated in this chapter, depend largely on the POS, framing and the resources available. Enabling POS, framing capacity and resource availability have enabled ECSOs to engage with the state and exert some degree of influence on environmental policies. Despite the government’s influence on the outcomes, ECSOs’ complementary and supplementary roles are making a difference. On the other hand, outsider ESCOs, as might be expected, have faced challenges to make ‘people believe the changes they seek are fair and right’ (Crutchfield, 2018, p. 13). Nevertheless, their continuous campaigns for environmental justice have been finding resonance in the county as more and more voices stand in support of their claims.

Conclusion This chapter has highlighted the different strategies employed by Cabo Verdean ECSOs to engage with the government to influence environmental policies. Institutional conditions (POS), including government policy choices, and resources explain the relationship between ECSOs and the state. The chapter highlighted two engagement strategies: the ‘insider’ and the ‘outsider’ strategies. The ‘insider’ ECSOs engage in complementary and supplementary tasks under the government’s ‘convenient tutelage’ – the protection/conservation and development frame – while the ‘outsiders’ engage in more adversarial relationships in standing for environmental justice. Cabo Verde faces the challenges of managing its environmental vulnerabilities, which are being intensified by the climate change phenomenon. ECSOs have demonstrated their important role in overcoming a number of challenges, as they are able to mobilize resources outside of the government sphere and to implement projects that complement government action and supplement government failure. They have also shown the ability to stand up against the government or other entities in defence of the environment and communities’ interests when the state fails to do so. Therefore, the engagement of ECSOs and their relevance for environmental policies in Cabo Verde is an inescapable reality. The strengthening of the POS and the provision of resources could reinforce the ability of both the ECSOs and the government to improve the country’s resilience to its environmental vulnerabilities and to confront the challenges that the country faces in terms of its sustainable development.

Notes 1 According to Spaak (1990), this was never the case in Cabo Verde. 2 In 1421: The Year China Discovered the World (Menzies, 2003), there are accounts that Chinese travellers had reached the Cabo Verde islands long before the Portuguese announced their discovery in the 1460s. 3 Building Adaptive Capacity and Resilience of the Forestry Sector in Cabo Verde (REFLOR-CV), a project of the Government of Cabo Verde, financed by the EU and implemented by FAO from 2017 to 2022. 4 https://inforpress.cv/santa-cruz-presidente-da-jpai-enaltece-grande-trabalho-da-associacao-caretta-care tta-na-proteccao-das-tartarugas/. 5 www.publico.pt/2013/07/25/ecosfera/noticia/associacoes-alertam-que-novo-quebramar-ameaca-tarta rugas-marinhas-em-cabo-verde-1601264 (accessed 2 September 2021). 6 Amigos da Natureza and ADAD also participated in the elaboration and implementation of PANA I: 1994–2002. Nevertheless, in this study only policies drafted and implemented in the 2000s were considered as most of the ECSOs were established during this period. 41

José Maria Gomes Lopes

Appendix

Table 2.9 List of ECSOs interviewed

ECSO

Year of foundation

Area of intervention

Island in which ECSO is based

Territorial coverage

1 Associação Lantuna

2013

Santiago

National

2 Association for the Defence of Environment (ADAD) 3 Associação Ambiental Careta Careta 4 Quercus CV Ambiente

1991

Environmental conservation and sustainable development Preservation and conservation of the environment Protection ecosystems of Santiago island

Santiago

National

Santiago

Regional/island

Environmental awareness; environmental conservation and protection Addresses the concerns of Cabo Verdean women and climate change Environmental education and awareness raising

Santiago

National

Santiago

National

Santiago

National

Environmental education and awareness raising; community development Conservation, protection of the environment; community development Conservation and protection of biodiversity; community development Conservation and protection of the environment Protection and conservation of turtles and other marine terrestrial species; promotion of sustainable development and ecotourism Environmental conservation and promotion of sustainable development Environmental protection and conservation; community development,

Santiago

National

Santiago

Community

Santiago

Community

Sal

Regional/island

Maio

Regional/island

Boa Vista

Regional/island

Boa Vista

Regional/island

5 Movimento Eco-feminismo de Cabo Verde* 6 Rede de Jornalistas para oa Ambiente (REJA) 7 Associação Cabo verdiana de Ecoturismo (ECOCV) 8 Associação do Planalto

2012

2016

2019

2017

2015

2015

9 Associação Serra malagueta

2005

10 Projeto Biodiversidade 11 Fundação Maio Biodiversidade

2015 2010

12 BIOSCV

2013

13 Cabo Verde Natura 2000

2003

42

Engagement of civic organizations in environmental policies in Cabo Verde

ECSO

Year of foundation

Area of intervention

Island in which ECSO is based

Territorial coverage

14 Associação Varandinha de Povoação Velha (AVPV) 15 Fundação Tartaruga

2009

Environmental education and promotion of sustainable community development

Boa Vista

Community

2012

Boa Vista

Regional/island

16 Associação dos Amigos da Natureza 17 Associação para Defesa do Meio Ambiente (Biosfera) 18 Associação de Biólogos e Investigadores de Cabo Verde 19 Biflores conservação da biodiversidade

1977

Environmental protection and conservation Protection of nature, forestry and livestock Environmental protection and conservation

São Vicente São Vicente

National

2015

Promoting research and environmental education

São Nicolau

National

2016

Promoting environmental awareness; promotion of biodiversity

Brava

Regional/island

2006

National

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José Maria Gomes Lopes Diani, M. (1995). Green Networks: A Structural Analysis of the Italian Environmental Movement. Edinburgh University Press. Diani, M., and Donati, P. R. (1999). Organisational Change in Western European Environmental Groups: A Framework for analysis. Environmental Politics, 8(1), 13–34. https://doi.org/10.1080/ 09644019908414436. Doherty, B., and Doyle, T. (2006). Beyond Borders: Transnational Politics, Social Movements and Modern Environmentalisms. Environmental Politics, 15(5), 697–712. https://doi.org/10.1080/ 09644010600937132. Francisco, A., Mucavele, A., Monjane, P., and Seuane, S. (2008). Índice da Sociedade Civil em Moçambique 2007. A Sociedade Civil Moçambicana por Dentro: Avaliação, Desafios, Oportunidades e Acção. Fundação para o Desenvolvimento da Comunidade. http://www.fdc.org.mz/index.php?option=com_docman&task= doc_details&gid=24&Itemid=106&lang=en. Gamson, W. A., and Lasch, K. E. (1981). The Political Culture of Social Welfare Policy. In Paper Knowledge: Toward a Media History of Documents. Duke University Press. Giugni, M., and Grasso, M. T. (2015). Environmental Movements in Advanced Industrial Democracies: Heterogeneity, Transformation, and Institutionalization. Annual Review of Environment and Resources, 40. https://doi.org/10.1146/annurev-environ-102014-021327. Hajer, M., and Versteeg, W. (2005). A Decade of Discourse Analysis of Environmental Politics: Achievements, Challenges, Perspectives. Journal of Environmental Policy and Planning, 7(3), 175–184. http s://doi.org/10.1080/15239080500339646. Hansmann, H. B. (1980). The Role of Nonprofit Enterprise. The Yale Law Journal, 89(5), 835. https:// doi.org/10.2307/796089. Harper, C., and Snowden, M. (2017). Environment and Society: Human Perspectives on Environmental Issues (6th edn). Routledge. Kitschelt, H. P. (1986). Political Opportunity Structures and Political Protest: Anti-Nuclear Movements in Four Democracies. British Journal of Political Science, 16(1), 57–85. https://doi.org/https://doi.org/10. 1017/S000712340000380X. Kriesi, H., Koopmans, R., Duyvendak, J. W., and Giugni, M. G. (1995). New Social Movements in Western Europe: A Comparative Analysis. In Contemporary Sociology. UCL Press. https://doi.org/10. 2307/2654027. Lindskog, P. A., and Delaite, B. (1996). Degrading Land: An Environmental History Perspective of the Cape Verde Islands. Environment and History, 2(3), 271–290. https://doi.org/10.3197/ 096734096779522266. Lopes, J. M. G. (2018). The Voice of Civil Society Organizations: Engagement of Civic Organizations in the Democratic Governance in Cabo Verde. Doctoral thesis, Instituto Universitário de Lisboa. https:// search.proquest.com/dissertations-theses/voice-civil-society-organizations-engagement/docview/2371 103639/se-2?accountid=41849. Lopes, J. V. (2021). Um corpo que se recusa a morrer, 70 anos contra fome, 1949–2019. Spleen Edições. Lopes, M. (2020). Os Flagelados do Vento Leste. Biblioteca Nacional de Cabo Verde. McAdam, D., and Snow, D. A. (2010). Readings on Social Movements: Origins, Dynamics and Outcomes. Oxford University Press. https://vufind.carli.illinois.edu/all/vf-knx/Record/13113017/Description. Menzies, G. (2003). 1421: The Year China Discovered the World. In New Directions in the Psychology of Close Relationships. Corgi. https://doi.org/10.4324/9781351136266. Meyer, D. S., and Minkoff, D. C. (2004). Conceptualizing Political Opportunity. Social Forces, 82(4), 1457–1492. https://doi.org/10.1353/sof.2004.0082. Nelson, R. H. (2003). Environmental Colonialism: ‘Saving’ Africa from Africans. Independent Review, 8(1), 65–86. Obi, C. I. (2005). Environmental Movements in Sub-Saharan Africa: A Political Ecology of Power and Conflict. Society, 15, 1–19. Plataforma das ONG de Cabo Verde (2015). Estudo diagnóstico das ONGs em Cabo Verde. Plataforma das ONG de Cabo Verde. Salamon, L. M. (1995). Partners in Public Service: Government-Nonprofit Relations in the Modern Welfare State. Johns Hopkins University Press. Sanches, E., and Lopes, J. (2022). Shaking up Democracy from below: Protest and Change in Cabo Verde. In E. Sanches (Ed.), Popular Protest, Political Opportunities, and Change in Africa (pp. 21–38). Routledge Contemporary Africa Series. Routledge. Santos, J. (2017). Economia social e solidária em Cabo Verde: Génese, entidades, atualidade e perspetivas. Pedro Cardoso Livraria.

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Silva, B. L.da (1997). Chiquinho. Edições Calabedotche. Skocpol, T., Ganz, M., and Munson, Z. (2000). A Nation of Organizers: The Institutional Origins of Civic Voluntarism in the United States. American Political Science Review, 94(3), 527–546. https://doi. org/10.2307/2585829. Spaak, J. D. (1990). Boiser les Iles du Cap-Vert … Porquoi, Comment, Pour Qui? Bois et Forêt des Tropiques, 225, 47–54. Tarrow, S. G. (2011). Power in Movement: Social Movements and Contentious Politics. Cambridge University Press. Tava, V. I. (2013). The Role of Non-governmental Organisations, Peoples and Courts in Implementing International Environmental Laws. In S. Alam, J. Hossain Bhuiyan, T. Chowdhury, and E. Techera (Eds), Routledge Handbook of International Environmental Law (1st edn, pp. 740–759). Routledge. Taylor, D. E. (2000). The Rise of the Environmental Justice Paradigm: Injustice Framing and the Social Construction of Environmental Discourses. American Behavioral Scientist, 43(4), 508–580. https://doi. org/10.1177/0002764200043004003. Tilly, C. (1995). Contentious Repertoires in Great Britain, 1758–1834. Social Science History, 17(2), 253–280. https://doi.org/10.2307/1171282. Topliyski, A., Labrunie, I., Cruz, D. C. V., Sousa, N., and Tavares, E. N. (2020). Mapeamento da Sociedade Civil Cabo-Verdiana. Assistência Técnica à Sociedade Civil. United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) (2015). GEF-SGP: Country Programme Strategy for Utilization of OP5 Grant Funds, Cape Verde. UNDP. United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) (2020). GEF SGP Cabo Verde Country Program Strategy (2020–2023). UNDP. Weisbrod, B. A. (1975). Toward a Theory of the Voluntary Nonprofit Sector in a Three Sector Economy. In E. Phelps (Ed.), Altruism, Morality, and Economic Theory (pp. 171–195). Russell Sage Foundation. Wolf, C. J. (1988). Markets or Governments: Choosing between Imperfect Alternatives. MIT Press. Zald, M. N., and McCarthy, J. (1987). Social Movements in an Organisational Society. Routledge.

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3 Network governance and the role of environmental non-governmental organizations in Belize1 Ruth Gutierrez-Corley, Allanson Cruickshank and Stefano Moncada

Introduction In a pluralist society, non-state actors can play a very critical role in shaping their country’s environmental governance through various forms of informal and formal social groups or organizations occurring outside the political system and the corporate economy. Frequently, these non-state actors form networks among themselves sharing a common interest to address a range of societal issues that affect the community’s quality of life. These networks can influence policies and create civil society-government partnerships, thereby bridging gaps in the political governance system. Within this context, this chapter seeks to explore the application of network governance on environmental non-governmental organizations (ENGOs) in Belize, and attempts to examine how such networks could improve the effectiveness of ENGOs in influencing environmental governance in the country. For this purpose, this chapter attempts to elicit the perceptions of ENGOs regarding their roles, and the benefits that networking could have on their operations, and on the possibilities for improvement of their effectiveness in environmental governance.

Research questions and methodology In order to attain the objective of this chapter, the following research questions were set. 1 2 3 4

46

What are the main objectives of ENGOs in Belize and what is their main mode of operation to attain these objectives? In what ways have ENGOs in Belize succeeded in influencing environmental governance in this country? How have ENGOs’ engagement in local, national and international networks and partnerships influenced environmental governance in Belize? How can the roles of ENGOs in Belize improve and become more effective in the coming years?

DOI: 10.4324/9781003341536-5

Network governance and the role of ENGOs in Belize

Information was sought from 10 key ENGOs in Belize in order to respond to these questions. Emphasis was placed on the third research question in order to highlight the application of network governance as a way in which ENGOs can improve their effectiveness.

Layout of the chapter The chapter is organized in six sections. The second section gives brief information about Belize and its ENGO scene. A literature review on issues associated with the theme of this chapter is presented in the third section. The fourth section presents the methodology adopted to respond to the research questions, while the fifth section discusses the results of the interviews and the overall findings. The last section concludes the chapter by summarizing the results and their implications.

Background Belize is a small non-island state2 with a population of 397,621 in 20203 and is governed by a bicameral parliamentary democracy (under a unitary constitutional and hereditary monarchy).4 The country enjoys an international reputation as a leader in biodiversity conservation. In comparison with other Caribbean and Central American countries, it has a strong history of environmental protection that harks back to the 1920s.5 Geographically, Belize is located on the Caribbean coast of north-east Central America. This small state shares two land borders with Mexico and Guatemala and one maritime border with Honduras.6 Its greatest length (north–south) is 280 km and its widest point (west–east) is 109 km with a total of 542 km of land borders and 386 km of coastline. Belize has unique landscapes covering an area of 22,966 sq km (land and sea), which encompasses the Maya Mountains, broadleaf and savannah forests extending from other regions of the Mesoamerican Forest in the west (ridge) moving seawards to the east and meeting the Mesoamerican Reef in the Caribbean Sea.7 Belize has the world’s second largest natural barrier reef measuring 300 km in length, which runs parallel to the Caribbean coastline (Almada-Villela et al., 2011; Rivera and Pratt, 2005; Lourdes and Pauly, 2011). Many of these ecosystems overlap with those of neighbouring countries, and have led to regional approaches carried out by smaller international organizations and local ENGOs connecting different ‘capitals’ and navigating the complex socio-ecological and political systems. These regional efforts identify innovative ways to respond to multiple environmental stressors having a transboundary effect on ecosystems and livelihoods (Meerman, 2015; National Climate Change Office, 2016). These conservation efforts have allowed Belize to continue to play a critical role in the Mesoamerican isthmus as it is a biological corridor for approximately 118 internationally threatened species (32 endangered, nine critically endangered and 77 vulnerable) and 62 near-threatened species.8

Environmental governance in Belize Environmental governance in Belize pre-dates independence (21 September 1981). In 1817, an attempt was made through the Crown Land Ordinance (CLO) established in 1817 to combat excessive timber extraction (Finnetty, 2001). By 1927, there was an update of this legislation referred to as the Forest Ordinance (FO). Both the CLO and the FO gave the government control over public land and timber extraction. Despite its small population, Belize has a relatively large number of legally established protected areas (Young and Horwich, 2007) and of ENGOs (King, 2021). With 60% of the country’s natural forest cover still standing, Belize has managed to protect approximately 37% 47

Ruth Gutierrez-Corley, Allanson Cruickshank and Stefano Moncada

of its land territory and about 20% of its marine territory under the National Protected Areas System Act. Subsequently, this conservation act, coupled with state and non-state efforts, allowed Belize to achieve its national targets as depicted in the National Biodiversity Strategy and Action Plan9 and even exceeded expectations in international environmental conventions such as the Aichi Biodiversity Target 11 of the Convention on Biological Diversity.10 The National Protected Areas System Act has set the foundation for the vision and conservation goals of preserving and managing Belize’s biodiversity through the establishment of 108 protected areas recognized by the International Union for Conservation of Nature which include national parks, wildlife sanctuaries, natural monuments and nature reserves.11 This extensive system of protected areas includes archaeological and private nature reserves and the marine realm (including protected spawning aggregation sites and marine protected areas/ parks/zones). Furthermore, Belize has committed to expanding its marine areas designated in 2010 as no-take zones in which fishing is prohibited (Government of Belize, 2010) and most recently fulfilled this in April 2022. Although 85% of terrestrial protected areas are national lands, only 43% are managed directly by government agencies, while the remaining 53% are managed by Belizean ENGOs. The overall environmental governance in Belize is characterized by a heavy reliance on the departments of forestry and fisheries under the umbrella of the Ministry of Forestry, Fisheries and Sustainable Development, co-managed with communitybased organizations, privately protected areas and Indigenous Peoples’ and Community Conserved Territories and Areas (King, 2021; Mitchell et al., 2017; Brechin and Salas, 2011; Young and Horwich, 2007). There are various forms of NGO engagement with the government and international organizations (Banks and Hulme, 2012). By 1969, the country’s first ENGO had been established, namely the Belize Audubon Society that initially was a branch of the Florida Audubon Society, which was the first comanagement organization that was allowed to exercise power over the protected areas. This gave the Society an opportunity to explore financial resources provided by international agencies seeking to support the country’s endeavours in preserving its forested land. In 1984, the government of Belize and the Belize Audubon Society entered into an official co-management agreement with the Society agreeing to co-manage six of Belize’s protected areas (Young and Horwich, 2007). Since then, this model has been replicated, thus contributing to the growth of ENGO co-managers across the country (Government of Belize, n.d.). This arrangement enabled ENGOs in Belize to work in various environmental areas, including safeguarding keystone species, sensitive habitats and indigenous communities. The Belizean ENGOs operate independently from the government and work directly with their stakeholders delivering services and support through their established network. Brechin and Salas (2011) discuss the importance of these ENGO networks in environmental governance efforts in Belize. Some community networks are informal and are often not affiliated with a national or umbrella network due to financial and human resource constraints (Coate et al., 2006). However, most of these groups work closely with established ENGOs and indirectly provide environmental data to inform the science through their publications and advocacy (Mitchell et al., 2017). Most wellestablished ENGOs work directly with national or umbrella networks. Table 3.1 shows which kinds of ENGOs were interviewed for the purpose of this study and their affiliation with national or umbrella networks such as the newly established Belize Network of NGOs (BNN).

Environmental governance networks in Belize The adoption of a collaborative environmental governance network approach has been strategic in tackling environmental issues and positively improving environmental governance in 48

Network governance and the role of ENGOs in Belize

Belize. Various types of networks exist, some of which are formal and others informal. For the purpose of this study, only formal networks which directly feed into established ones are analysed. The two main formal networks observed in the study can be classified into two groups: (a) information-sharing networks, whose initiatives came from private and voluntary ENGOs (community-based organizations) with the aim of sharing data to tackle conservation goals and solve specific problems; and (b) policy and advocacy networks, with whom the government has initiated collaborative relationships with ENGOs and their stakeholders (Davidson et al., 2004; Cadman et al., 2020). Information-sharing ENGOs share data and discuss other matters related to conservation goals. Such networks are often coordinated by a lead ENGO institution to which government regulatory agencies also contribute. In Belize such networks include groups which deal with corals, spawning aggregations, sea turtles, manatees, and so on. Policy and advocacy networks are formal and official structures that are empowered to insert environmental goals into the policy review at a high level (Senate). The BNN, for example, not only includes ENGOs, but also all the other NGOs registered under the NGO Act. This unique arrangement was established in 2017 when NGOs were allocated a seat in the Senate to give them a voice in the country’s political regime.

Literature review NGOs and small island developing states The role of NGOs in small island developing states (SIDS) has changed significantly during the past 30 years, gradually shifting from having a predominantly local focus to increasingly embracing an international dimension, such as in the realm of climate change and environmental protection (Cadman et al., 2020; Zhang and Skoric, 2020). This expansion in the reach of their work has led them to strengthening links with other NGOs across regions (Goransson et al., 2019). McConney et al. (2014) argue that environmental interventions by NGOs in the fisheries of Caribbean and Pacific SIDS utilized synergies, solutions, challenges and constraints. From a governance perspective it suggests that NGO interventions have enhanced the benefits derived mainly from small-scale fisheries in these states, with positive side effects for environmental conservation, via interactions among fisheries and environmental actors. The professional capacities of NGOs have been strengthened with the increased links with academia and local professionals. This has elevated the ability of NGOs to engage critically with proposed pieces of legislation, and with challenging governments over ‘reforms’ which could be damaging or inequitable (M. Briguglio, 2022). One important reason behind the increased participation of NGOs, and the improved quality of their work, has been linked to advancements in information technology. Information and communications technologies have helped to reduce the cost of coordinating activities, support the involvement of a larger number of individuals, and increase awareness about threats to the environment (Sealy, 2003; Lisowski, 2005). This, in turn, has empowered NGOs with more efficient structures to attract funding from the private sector and a wider variety of sources (Cris¸an and Dan, 2018). It is perhaps in the field of climate change that small island state NGOs have most increased their activities and level of local and international awareness (McGregor et al., 2018). The role that NGOs have played in international negotiations, often with the help of organizations such as the Alliance of Small Islands States (AOSIS), has managed to increase global awareness about these processes (de Águeda Corneloup and Mol, 2014; Böhmelt and Betzold, 2013; Böhmelt et al., 2015). 49

Ruth Gutierrez-Corley, Allanson Cruickshank and Stefano Moncada

Theory of network governance The term network governance refers to voluntary clusters from civil society organizing themselves for a particular purpose. Theorists and social scientists have observed these efforts as social mechanisms since the 1980s (Jones et al., 1997). Networking governance can be defined as the act of having a persistent and structured set of autonomous entities (which can include nonprofit agencies and NGOs) involved in creating products or services grounded on implicit and open-ended contracts to adapt to environmental contingencies and to coordinate and safeguard exchanges (Jones et al., 1997; Sørensen, 2002; Sørensen et al., 2008). The network governance theory captures the pattern and quality of the relationships during interaction and the manner in which resources are shared between independent entities or units (Klijn and Koppenjan, 2012). This may occur horizontally or vertically, but generally does not take into account hierarchy, markets and bureaucracy (Sørensen et al., 2008). Network theories have perhaps been most influential in public administration and policy, where findings have supported the idea that civil society involvement has improved the liberal democratic processes by increasing the number of actors involved while still in the process of addressing the equity, accountability and democratic legitimacy of such processes (Bogason and Musso, 2006; Böhmelt et al., 2015). Over the past two decades, research on network governance has focused on the effectiveness and legitimacy of mechanisms used to promote democracy (Aslipour and Khanmohammadi, 2019; Dredge, 2006; Beaumont and Dredge, 2010; Davies, 2012; Jones et al., 1997; Klijn and Koppenjan, 2012; Mohanty, 2012; Provan and Kenis, 2008; Sørensen et al., 2008). This network governance approach was recognized as a catalyst in supplementing the rolling out of policies and facilitating collaboration between different levels of governance such as government, NGOs, private sector and the civil society at large Cooper, 2018; Sørensen et al., 2008). However, it is less obvious how network governance has been fundamental in solving problems of adapting, coordinating and safeguarding exchanges, especially in the context of small island states (M. Briguglio, 2010; Charlie et al., 2012; M. Briguglio, 2022). Since the 1980s networks have evolved from non-legally binding efforts to formal collaborations among organizations that have facilitated initiatives in policy advocacy and resource mobilization. Network governance theory has gained prominence within public administration which is predicted to continue developing hybrid practices in problem solving through established networks (Klijn and Koppenjan, 2012). A pertinent example is that of homelessness, whereby NGOs and state authorities in Poland and the Czech Republic (Czechia) act with complementarity, creating synergies to jointly tackle a relevant issue (Sidor and Abdelhafez, 2021). Other examples come from the Republic of Korea, assessing how the growing role of NGOs, also fuelled by increased financial assistance from public authorities, has supported public administration in several fields, and although there are some controversies over the increased call for transparency of some NGOs, these synergies serve as an incubator of participatory democracy (Kim and Jae Moon, 2003). Overall, examples, and overall applied research stemming from SIDS, remain scarcer than those coming from larger states, echoing similar patterns in applied research in SIDS (Moncada et al., 2018).

Modes of network governance When it comes to mobilizing resources among interdependent actors (mainly organizations), Sørensen et al. (2002, 2008) linked organizational networks to network effectiveness and efficiency despite their pluricentric nature. This coordination involves distinct modes in network governance which include participant-governed, lead organization-governed and network

50

Network governance and the role of ENGOs in Belize

administrative organization (Provan and Kenis, 2008). However, the literature on network governance, and on the specific modes of governance, is still fragmented, and mostly focuses on sectors and issues (Molin and Masella, 2016). Furthermore, some evidence points towards the possibility that the literature that evolved in the wake of work by Provan and Kenis (2008) was not sufficiently critical and did not examine in-depth all the ramifications of the network governance field (Wegner et al., 2019), and this is especially true in the context of SIDS. Network governance can play an important role in solving environmental issues, including those existing between countries (Sidor and Abdelhafez, 2021), whereby the network can actively mediate between parties (Madon and Sahay, 2002). When it comes to some major cross-boundary issues, without a single entity of authority for addressing such issues, such as in the case of biodiversity protection, land use patterns, migration and climate change (Sandström and Carlsson, 2008), environmental governance networks may play an important role in mediation.

Methodology As indicated above, although research in the field of ENGOs in the context of SIDS is growing, only a few studies have applied network governance theory on the effectiveness of ENGOs to influence environmental governance in these island states. The present study aims to fill this gap with regard to Belize. To this end, a survey was conducted12 with 10 key Belizean ENGOs using structured interviews (see Table 3.1). The majority of the ENGOs that were interviewed are members of the BNN.13

Data collection The respondents to the survey were executive directors, whose contact information was obtained from the BNN website. The interview approach was utilized in order to attain an indepth contextual response from executive directors of these organizations and to analyse how these ENGOs network to influence environmental governance in Belize. Although the sample is small, it is likely to capture the general perceptions of ENGOs on the subject matter, given the spread of interest of these organizations as shown on Table 3.1. The survey questions were in line with the four research questions set in the introductory section of this chapter, also and echoed research gaps arising from the literature. The 10 ENGOs were contacted via email14 to enquire whether they were willing to participate in the survey, and to set the date and time for the interviews. The interviewees were informed about the purpose of the study and the reasons for the interviews, and their consent sought, which was duly obtained. The participants were assured that their individual responses would not to be divulged and would be confidential. All interviews were conducted virtually via the video conferencing platform Zoom and all sessions were recorded with the participants’ consent. The interviews lasted between 30 and 60 minutes. Ethics procedures were followed, and approval from the University of Malta Research and Ethics Committee obtained prior to the research taking place.

Data analysis The NVivo software was used to process and analyse the responses in order to identify key themes and patterns on the ENGOs’ perceptions on network governance. A word analysis query was run to find out the top six themes. Thereafter, matrices were developed to facilitate the classification of responses from the different types of ENGOs. 51

Ruth Gutierrez-Corley, Allanson Cruickshank and Stefano Moncada Table 3.1 Summary of participants, types of ENGO and their conservation goals

Type of ENGO

Conservation goal

Affiliation with national networks in Belize

Grassroots Grassroots Grassroots Co-managers Co-managers Private International International International International

Educational and outreach Research, educational and outreach Scientific research, awareness and monitoring Marine protected areas management Forest protected areas management Private forest protected areas management Scientific research and monitoring Marine scientific research and policy advocacy Scientific research and capacity building Marine policy advocacy

Indirect Indirect Direct Direct Direct Indirect Direct Direct Indirect Direct

Note: The affiliation with national networks in Belize refers to the ENGO listing on the BNN website. If the ENGO was not listed as a member of the BNN then it was categorized as having a ‘indirect’ affiliation with the national networks, whereas ENGOs that were listed under the BNN umbrella were categorized as having a ‘direct’ affiliation.

Using conventional content analysis, coding categories were created directly from the text data, based on the research questions and the preliminary network theory. The responses were also compared to the thematic literature review.

Results and discussion This section presents and synthesizes the responses of the 10 ENGOs to the four research questions set out in the introductory section. The responses are not reproduced verbatim, as this would have taken up too much space, and possibly breached participants’ confidentiality. They are summarized and listed according to coded phrases set by the authors. In addition, the responses of specific NGOs have been kept confidential. Most of the responses listed were advanced by more than one NGO. The responses to each research question are listed in order of importance, in terms of frequency of mentions. The summarized responses are followed by briefly synthesizing comments by the authors.

The main objective and mode of operation to gain the objectives Table 3.1 briefly lists the main objectives of the 10 ENGOs that responded to the survey. It can be seen that the objectives relate to education and outreach, protected areas management, scientific research and policy advocacy. This broadly mirrors the goals of global environmental governance (including donor agencies) and the national environmental policies of Belize. A word cloud of respondents’ most frequently used words in response to research question 1, derived from a word frequency query helped to identify the most important themes that emerged from the survey. All the respondents shared common words with the top six being government, organization, network, Belize, protected and management. These words reflect the main components of network governance theory as elaborated in the literature (Klijn and Koppenjan, 2012; Provan and Kenis, 2008; Sørensen et al., 2008). The findings on the word frequency query was not a surprise. The high occurrence of the word ‘management’ is a reflection of the need for NGOs to manage their limited financial resources, while attempting to meet their goals efficiently, especially with regard to protected areas. 52

Network governance and the role of ENGOs in Belize

Main mode of operation. The interview responses indicated that one of the main modes of operation of all the ENGOs interviewed was creating networks of partnerships among themselves, with government agencies and with the affected communities. This is an important role in influencing environmental governance in Belize as shown in the examples provided by Brechin and Salas (2011) with government and NGO partnerships and co-management agreements in managing protected areas. This is an important aspect of the environmental governance network theory as synthesized in Davies (2012). However, the responses indicated that partnerships with private businesses in the collaborative network were often not forthcoming. Only one international ENGO that is not affiliated directly with national networks claimed that it works with private sector partners including fishing cooperatives and fish markets. This was a unique arrangement of participant-led networks promoting social cohesion between different actors in an industry such as in the tourism sector as shown in a study by Beaumont and Dredge (2010). It was interesting to note the way that different ENGOs apply similar tactics in accomplishing their goals as a form of adaptive management in environmental governance. Sandström and Carlsson (2008) conceptualized this phenomenon as adaptive co-management systems considered when crafting institutions for natural resource management especially in network structures. The following were noted key benefits of the mode of operation of ENGO activities: Feeling of ownership. It emerged that participatory processes involving grassroots communities are considered by most respondents as helping to foster a feeling of ownership in environmental governance among these communities. Participation is good in its own right. The responses revealed that ENGOs were generally of the view that community participation and networking between the NGOs themselves not only improves the effectiveness of action, but is a good thing in its own right. They felt that participation encouraged democracy, empowered people individually and collectively, and reduced social exclusion and alienation. Exchange of knowledge. Most participants agreed that networking and partnerships facilitate improvement in the exchange of knowledge and skills through a mutual learning environment.

Comment with regard to the responses to question 1 From the responses to question 1 one can see that the ENGOs interviewed attached major importance to networks and partnerships. As has been shown above, these two words feature prominently in the word cloud shown in Figure 3.1. Similar findings were captured in the literature; however, it was revealed that government-led networks had a short life span compared to networks that were led by ENGOs. This was an interesting feature as government authorities were members of science and data networks such as coral and fish spawning aggregations networks. To some extent this supports claims by Brechin and Salas (2011) that ENGOs promote regulatory authorities’ presence in societal governance of natural resources. A study by Cadman et al. (2020), highlighted advanced characteristics of such collaborative strategies supporting science-based policies used to inform decision-makers. Belizean ENGOs are transitioning away from soft advocacy, data gathering and knowledge transfer to hard advocacy, intelligence and technology transfer in influencing sustainable development policies and legislation and promoting good governance.

Ways in which the ENGOs succeeded in influencing environmental governance in Belize The responses to question 2 referred to activities in which ENGOs have been involved to accomplish their conservation goals, and to promote good environmental governance. 53

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Collaboration with decision-makers. A common response was that, in the pursuit of collaboration, there was a need to identify key agencies, persons and positions in order to engage in advocacy and strategic communications with the government, with the aim of getting legislation implemented and related action taken, especially with regard to protected areas. Partnership between ENGOs. Common comments relating to such partnerships were that engaging and looking for partnership opportunities help to build capacity and fosters trust between organizations and government agencies Publicity. The modes of publicity which the ENGOs engage in include making television programmes to promote environmental stewardship; a pertinent example is the Under Sea Belize series. Publicity of the NGOs’ activities in the print and social media were also frequently mentioned in the responses. Modern technology in this regard enabled the ENGOs to communicate quickly and cheaply. Education. The educational activities that were often mentioned by the respondents included





conducting educational field trips mostly for primary schools and providing teachers with workbooks on the environment; mentoring programmes for high school and early college youth; undertaking capacity building training for NGOs sometimes in collaboration with international and regional organizations such as Compete Caribbean and the Inter-American Development Bank; conducting outreach activities to promote community and stakeholder education in coastal communities and among the wider public.

Practical stewardship activities. These activities included supervising and conducting clean-ups and related activities, in protected area management as well as managing conservation programmes, often in collaboration with local communities and government agencies. Some areas identified in this regard included the Belize Audubon Society, the Toledo Institute for Development and Environment and the Southern Environmental Association. Institutional strengthening. The need for capacity building in various areas of environmental management was often mentioned by the respondents, as this improves their role in the environmental governance of Belize. Influencing consumer behaviour. One aspect of environmental governance in which NGOs participate that was often mentioned by the respondents was the need for a change in consumer behaviour, especially in relation to consumption that leads to environmental degradation and depletion of marine wildlife. Increasing the presence of NGOs. According to some responses, the presence of NGOs can be enhanced by exploring ways in which they can have more voice in environmental governance, by, among other things, conducting scientific research in order to collect information about environmental matters. Eliciting support. The respondents mentioned that in order to widen support for NGOs, they should strengthen their role in advocacy, in providing facilities and services relating to the environment, and in taking action to promote community willingness to pursue good environmental governance.

Comment with regard to responses to question 2 It can be seen from the responses to question 2 that the ENGOs again assigned considerable importance to partnerships. This is key in the environmental governance network framework 54

Network governance and the role of ENGOs in Belize

with multilevel partnerships within the ENGO community, government counterparts and international polity. Another matter that was highlighted in this regard is the role of education, advocacy and institutional strengthening. King (2021) noted that there were ideological and political barriers between many NGOs in Belize that prevented them from acknowledging shared values but this was not the case for ENGOs networks which can be observed in the BNN. Provan and Kenis (2008) linked types of network to modes and effectiveness of ENGOs but this was only applicable to a certain extent. The BNN was a type of network that gave NGOs a seat at the highest level in decision-making and enabled them to directly influence policies and legislation. However, it was not clear how ENGO networks mobilized resources among themselves. This may be a reflection on the extent of network effectiveness as shown in studies by Sørensen et al. (2002, 2008) in the literature review.

How the ENGOs engage in local, national and international networks and partnership agreements and how this contributed towards influencing environmental governance in Belize In response to question 3, the main activities mentioned by the respondents are the following: Actions to have ENGO voices heard. This included meeting with partner NGOs and government agencies, often leading to a united front among NGOs, and making their opinions heard in government circles. Actions also included lobbying the government of Belize to implement regulations, such as a ban on trawling and gillnets and a moratorium on offshore oil drilling. Members of some ENGOs sat on the boards of official organizations. The BNN had a say in, and supported action related to conservation concerns, including coastal development and related matters such as cruise ship ports and dredging activities. Other actions mentioned included supporting and proposing legislation, such as the National Protected Areas System Act and participating in regional and international conventions, such as the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora, that promote good environmental governance. The planning process. Some respondents argued that the planning process involves participating in stakeholder community action in various aspects of protected area management, conservation and research, as well as conducting educational outreach for stakeholders. This process also involves developing multi-year management plans for stakeholders, as is the case of the Maya Forest in collaboration with the trust operating there. Other responses referred to the participation in multi-stakeholder plans, such as the Fisheries Improvement Plan, bringing together stakeholders representing academia, government industry, NGOs and through that interactive process identifying common goals. International action. Various respondents argued that participating in international initiatives, such as the collaboration between the Nature Conservancy (TNC) and the Organización del Sector Pesquero y Acuícola del Istmo Centroamericano (OSPESCA – Organization of the Fisheries and Aquaculture Sector of the Central American Isthmus)15 which promotes good environmental governance in Belize. This is mostly due to building governance capacity and aligning the objectives of international organizations with the domestic ones, as in the case of fisheries, and promoting activities. Negotiations on funding. Some of the respondent ENGOs enter into agreement with the government for funding to run the NGOs’ operations. This is done in the form of memorandums of understanding between the ENGO and the respective regulatory department that it intends to collaborate with. Donors such as the United Nations Development Programme facilitate grants to aid in project initiatives, fostering the collaboration of multi-stakeholders such as TNC and the Belize Fisheries Department. 55

Ruth Gutierrez-Corley, Allanson Cruickshank and Stefano Moncada

Comments on the responses to question 3 NGOs often succeed in influencing environmental governance in Belize through collective efforts between NGOs in collaborating with government agencies. These efforts were highlighted in other studies as collaborative networks in solving cross-cutting issues (Erkus¸-Öztürk and Eraydin, 2010; Partelow et al., 2020). The operation of ENGOs networks (both informal and formal) resulted in collective action in tackling transboundary issues that require multiple regulatory and research agencies (Klijn and Koppenjan, 2012; Partelow et al., 2020). From the interview responses, various benefits were identified from such collaboration with the government in matters relating to the environment and tourism.

How can the roles of ENGOs improve and be more effective in the coming years? The responses to this question can be grouped in two streams: the main challenges facing e- NGOs in Belize and improving NGOs’ effectiveness.

Main challenges From the responses by participating ENGOs it emerged that these organizations face many complexities and obstacles in conducting their work. These include the following: Limited funds. Most respondents referred to the need for NGOs to be of good financial standing. They need money for their own management, including keeping accounts, writing audits, paying bank charges, paying rent, conducting the necessary reporting and funding their activities, such as costly policing and patrolling of protected areas. This problem is particularly severe for smaller NGOs. Obstacles that hamper ENGOs’ work. A host of obstacles were mentioned by respondents, but poaching and illegal hunting of wildlife, illegal logging, wildfires and activities that degrade protected areas were deemed to be particularly importance in this regard. Political interference. Pressure on politicians by persons who have vested interests can lead to constraints on ENGO action and to the spreading of doubt about NGOs’ credibility. Such pressure often leads to putting business interests before environmental concerns, particularly those impacting on the coastal communities. NGOs are sometimes considered to be the enemy of business. Paucity of data. Data required for ENGO action are often missing, either because it is not easy to procure them or because they are not made available from official sources. This impedes the work of ENGOs. Lack of awareness. Lack of education leads to misunderstandings about the benefits of protected areas. Environmental conservation is sometimes interpreted as a restriction on citizens’ freedom. Such perceptions hamper the work of ENGOs. Lack of government action. Some respondents remarked that occasionally action taken by ENGOs in matters relating to environmental management is not followed through by government decision-makers. Another problem mentioned by the respondents was the lack of enforcement by the authorities.

Improving ENGOs’ effectiveness Below are the responses to the question how can the roles of ENGOs improve and be more effective in the coming years?

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Government action. Respondents argued that the government should put environmental governance at the forefront of Belize’s political agenda. This will require, among other things, increased government support enabling ENGOs to build capacity, including, but not exclusively, by increasing funding for ENGOs. In addition, there should be more co-management agreements such as the Toledo Institute for Development and Environment and the Southern Environmental Association. Increased data sharing and transparency. A view often expressed by respondents was that it is important to increase collaboration on research and data collection through meaningful consultation within the ENGO community itself and among the ENGOs and government agencies. This will require greater efforts in stepping up networking initiatives. The BNN has been extremely helpful in that regard, but its role can be strengthened. Generate public support for protected areas. Greater effort should be made to elicit more support for protected areas, engaging stakeholders from across the country, through outreach and education to foster a better understanding of the benefits of these areas. Communities should be positioned at the centre of such protection and should be supported in transforming their own environments, while informing them about the value of protected areas. Improve NGO governance. Standards of operation of ENGOs should be improved to enhance their credibility. One ENGO stated that Belizean organizations should strive to become a benchmark for what effective and sustainable conservation NGO activity should look like. For this to happen, the model of conservation has to be locally relevant, while potentially having lessons on a national and indeed global context. Enhanced education and outreach. Some respondents were of the view that conservation should be part of the primary school curriculum, so that awareness of the need for environmental protection can be fostered from a very young age. Outreach and awareness building exercises directed at local communities should also be strengthened. Improve communication and advocacy. Respondents viewed communication relating to environmental governance as very important but it needs to be improved through, for example, the organization of events to increase awareness of environmental issues. The BNN can have a major role in this matter.

Comments on responses to question 4 It is clear from the responses to question 4 that ENGOs in Belize face major problems, some of which are financial and some political, while others are related to business interests. However, what emerged from the responses is that things can and should improve in the future.

Main messages from the responses of the 10 ENGOs The main messages that emerged from the responses to the survey questions is that network governance has many advantages and that NGOs benefit greatly by collaborating with one another, with government agencies and with the affected communities. Collaboration among ENGOs themselves generates various strengths and benefits, including showing a united front as well as sharing expertise and research. Collaborating with government agencies also yields advantages, including in terms of improving the chances of NGOs having their voice heard, as well as participating in and influencing decision-making. In Belize ENGOs have clearly had a beneficial impact on conservation and have helped to raise awareness of the advantages of such practices. However, ENGOs in Belize face various challenges, notably those related to sourcing funding to cover their operational expenses, such 57

Ruth Gutierrez-Corley, Allanson Cruickshank and Stefano Moncada

as conservation patrols and policing in both the terrestrial and marine environments. Although substantial ENGO funding comes from the government, the interview responses indicate that this needs to be scaled up. Some leading ENGOs have set a high standard internationally and such best practices must be noted (King, 2021). For example, the Belize Zoo and Tropical Education Center has an outstanding track record in wildlife conservation and management through rescuing and rehabilitating animals in their natural habitat. However, Sørensen et al. (2008) mentions networks as a solution of avoiding bureaucracy but with the high occurrence of the word ‘management’ in the word cloud, it is a reflection of the need for ENGOs to manage their limited financial resources within the networks. Furthermore, mechanisms for pooling resources were deficient while attempting to meet their goals efficiently, especially with regard to protected areas. This suggests that with improvement in communication among social networks resources can be used more efficiently in tackling environmental issues.

Conclusion This chapter applied the network governance theory, using information provided by 10 leading ENGOs in Belize, as a case study. This enabled the authors to investigate whether these organizations were influential in improving environmental governance through collaborative networks. The study clearly indicated that in the perception of these ENGOs networking and collaborative schemes among the NGOs themselves, with state agencies and with affected communities do indeed improve the effectiveness of ENGO action in promoting good environmental governance. This is achieved through various factors, including information sharing, advocacy, participation in decision-making and outreach in the affected communities. Such networking, associated with a bottom-up approach, often succeeded in influencing environmental policies in Belize. Moreover, the education, training and outreach programmes have improved knowledge for the ENGOs themselves and aided them in disseminating information about conservation and in eliciting community support for protected areas. Obviously, the situation is not all rosy. Several challenges hamper ENGOs’ activities, including lack of funds, poaching and illegal hunting of wildlife, illegal logging, wildfires and activities that degrade protected areas. Political pressure by persons with vested interests have damaged ENGOs’ credibility. In some instances, lack of enforcement by the authorities also hamper the ENGOs’ work. Other obstacles include difficulties in obtaining data, and lack of appreciation of the benefits of protected areas by sections of the general public. These obstacles call for remedial action, such as long-term government support of ENGOs, strengthening existing NGO-government collaboration schemes and improved communication with affected communities to heighten public awareness of the benefits of good environmental governance. Noting the benefits of collaboration and networking, it follows that ENGOs should be careful not to waste resources in competing, rather than collaborating, with each other when planning or executing their environmental conservation project initiatives. Strengthening alliances among ENGOs and those with government agencies as well as fostering a sense of ownership among the affected communities could lead to integrated mechanisms in matters related to environmental protection. This, in turn, would enable ENGOs to improve their effectiveness in promoting good environmental governance in Belize.

Notes 1 The authors wish to thank Caisha Fermin and Giselle Borland for their assistance in data collection and transcription. Special thanks to Arreini Palacio-Morgan, Abigail Parham-Garbutt and Kelvin

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2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

Tillett for their valuable input during the entire research project from piloting survey questions to final review. Although Belize is not an island, it forms part of the Alliance of Small Island States (www.aosis.org/a bout/member-states) and is included in the United Nations’ list of small island developing states (www.un.org/ohrlls/content/list-sids) www.worlddata.info/america/belize/index.php. www.nationalassembly.gov.bz/. www.unep-wcmc.org/en/news/area-based-management-approaches-contribute-to-sdg-delivery. www.britannica.com/place/Belize. www.fauna-flora.org/countries/belize/. www.biofin.org/belize. www.cbd.int/doc/world/bz/bz-nbsap-v2-p1-en.pdf. www.cbd.int/countries/targets/?country=bz. https://parksjournal.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/PARKS-23.1-Mitchell-et-al-10.2305IUCN. CH_.2017.PARKS-23-1BAM.en_.pdf. The interviews were conducted by Ruth Gutierrez-Corley and the results were analysed and interpreted by the three authors of this chapter. www.belizengos.org/ngo-resources/. This required obtaining social research permits from the Institute for Social and Cultural Research (ISCR) of the National Institute of Culture and History in Belize. This was to ensure that this research proposal was aligned with the conditions of ISCR for Historical, Anthropological and Socio-Economic Research. OPESCA has collaborated with international and local NGOs in Belize, Mexico and Honduras. This project supports the ‘adaptive ecosystem approach in Caribbean spiny lobster fishing in OSPESCA countries’, which is carried out within the framework of the RESCA (Resilient Central America) project, developed by TNC with the support of the US Department of State.

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Meerman, J. (2015). National Protected Areas Policy and Systems Plan National Protected Areas Analysis. Government of Belize, Ministry of Forestry, Fisheries and Sustainable Development. https://selvamaya. info/wp-content/uploads/2016/06/National-Protected-Areas-System-Plan.pdf. Mitchell, B. A., Walker, Z., and Walker, P. (2017). A Governance Spectrum: Protected Areas in Belize. Parks, 23(1), 45–60. https://doi.org/10.2305/IUCN.CH.2017.PARKS-23-1BAM.en. Molin, M. D., and Masella, C. (2016). From Fragmentation to Comprehensiveness in Network Governance. Public Organization Review, 16(4), 493–508. Mohanty, M. (2012). Informal Social Protection and Social Development in Pacific Island Countries: Role of NGOs and Civil Society. Asia-Pacific Development Journal, 18(2), 25–56. https://doi.org/10. 18356/7ed1f44a-en. Moncada, S., Briguglio, L. P., Bambrick, H., and Kelman, I. (2018). Development and Climate Change in Small Island Developing States . International Journal of Climate Change Strategies and Management, 10 (2), 214–216. National Climate Change Office. (2016). Belize’s Third National Communication to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change. https://unfccc.int/documents/67667. Partelow, S., Schlüter, A., Armitage, D., Bavinck, M., Carlisle, K., Gruby, R. L., Hornidge, A. K., Le Tissier, M., Pittman, J. B., Song, A. M., Sousa, L. P., Va˘ idianu, N., and Van Assche, K. (2020). Environmental Governance Theories: A Review and Application to Coastal Systems. Ecology and Society, 25(4), 1–21. https://doi.org/10.5751/ES-12067-250419. Provan, K. G., and Kenis, P. (2008). Modes of Network Governance: Structure, Management, and Effectiveness. Journal of Public Administration Research and Theory, 18(2), 229–252. Rivera, L., and Pratt, L. (2005). Belize: Country Environmental Analysis: Towards Competitiveness and Sustainable Development. https://doi.org/10.13140/RG.2.2.27399.80800. Sandström, A., and Carlsson, L. (2008). Network Governance of the Commons. International Journal of the Commons, 2(1), 33–54. Sealy, W. U. (2003). Empowering Development through E-governance: Creating Smart Communities in Small Island States. The International Information and Library Review, 35(2–4), 335–358. Sidor, M., and Abdelhafez, D. (2021). NGO–Public Administration Relationships in Tackling the Homelessness Problem in the Czech Republic and Poland. Administrative Sciences, 11(1), 24. Sørensen, E. (2002). Democratic Theory and Network Governance. Administrative Theory and Praxis, 24 (4), 693–720. Sørensen, E., and Torfing, J. (2008). Theories of Democratic Network Governance. Palgrave Macmillan. http s://labordoc.ilo.org/discovery/fulldisplay/alma994875623402676/41ILO_INST:41ILO_V1. Wegner, D., Teixeira, E. K., and Verschoore, J. R. (2019). ‘Modes of Network Governance’: What Advances Have Been Made So Far? Revista Base (Administração e Contabilidade) da UNISINOS, 16(1), 2–26. Young, C., and Horwich, R. (2007). History of Protected Area Designation, Co-management and Community Participation in Belize. www.researchgate.net/publication/265049702_History_of_Protected_Area_Des ignation_Co-management_and_Community_Participation_in_Belize. Zhang, N., and Skoric, M. M. (2020). Getting Their Voice Heard: Chinese Environmental NGO’s Weibo Activity and Information Sharing. Environmental Communication, 14(6), 844–858.

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4 Environmental protest in Malta during the COVID-19 pandemic Michael Briguglio

Introduction Environmental non-governmental organizations (ENGOs) ‘are probably the most visible expression of contemporary environmental concern’ (Carter, 2018, p. 145). Such concern is articulated in various ways, including protest. Protest in general, and environmental protest in particular, have been identified by scholars as highly visible forms of social action around the world in our times. The ‘protest turn’ (Sadiki and Saleh, 2021) includes a ‘new wave of ecological protest supported by a militant generation inventing a way of life and criticizing in a more radical way the effects of capitalism on the planet’ (Grassi and Giugni, 2022, p. 29). Since 2018, a large and growing critical mass of young environmental activists have been calling for radical systemic change to bring about climate and social justice, adopting, adapting, and expanding the repertoire of contention used by former generations of environmental protesters (Pickard et al., 2022, p. 521). Taking the above as a starting point, this chapter presents and discusses the physical environmental protests that took place in Malta following the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, which subsequently gained coverage in Malta’s mainstream media. The chapter examines the issues, organizations, coalitions, venues and types of protests in question. It analyses the groups and organizations that instigate the collective actions in question, the events that form the action repertoire, and the ideas that guide the protests. The chapter also looks at the networks and the broader context in which movements are protesting, which in this case concerns the specific characteristics of movement and political activism in Malta as a small European Union (EU) member state. The chapter uses protest event analysis through data collected from Malta’s media. This quantitative method will in turn be supported by qualitative interpretation of particularities related to environmental movement organizations (EMOs). The chapter is organized as follows. The second section will present a review of the literature. This will be followed by an explanation of the methodology used for the collection of primary data, and, subsequently, by findings in response to the research questions. The final section will provide a discussion on the main conclusions of the study.

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Literature review Politics and protest in small states such as Malta When analysing environmental protests, it is important to contextualize the society in which they are taking place, without reducing this to a strict deterministic analysis (de Moor and Wahstrom, 2022). Malta is a small island state comprising an archipelago located in the central Mediterranean Sea, and it is also the smallest EU member state. The country has a population of about 521,000, making it one of the most densely populated countries in the world. Malta’s political system is dominated by two parliamentary parties, the Partit Laburista (Labour Party) and the Partit Nazzjonalista (Nationalist Party). The former has been in government since 2013, following 25 years (bar a 22-month interlude) of Nationalist Party government. The country is classified as a liberal democracy facing its own challenges by international research institutes such as Freedom House (n.d.), Varieties of Democracy (Lührmann et al., 2020; Alizada et al., 2021) and the Economist Intelligence Unit (2020). Malta has a vibrant civil society which was traditionally dominated by the Catholic Church and the trade unions, but which more recently has seen a rise in the influence of social movement organizations (SMOs) in areas such the environment, civil rights and the rule of law (Briguglio, 2016a). Protest is a major tool used by many SMOs, even though their repertoire of action does include other methods. Being a small state, politics in the country is hyper-personalized (Corbett and Veenendaal, 2018), with political polarization, social networks, the wearing of multiple hats by social actors and patronage being important characteristics (Boissevain, 1993; Sultana and Baldacchino, 1994).

Environmental issues in Malta Given that this study focuses on environmental protest, it is also important to briefly describe the environmental context in which Malta is situated. As mentioned above, Malta is one the most densely populated countries in the world. Inevitably, this has put tremendous pressure on land development. During the past few decades this issue has become contentious, with developers, the construction industry, investors (large and small) and homeowners seeking to precipitate development in sectors such as housing and tourism, while environmentalists, residents and other civil society actors lament that the country is reaching tipping point through overdevelopment (Briguglio, 2016b). The ‘development as construction’ paradigm has become more deeply entrenched among the Maltese population, especially since many people in the island prefer to invest ‘safely’ in property, even though this has been described as a form of ‘pseudo-development’ (Baldacchino, 2021). Malta’s significant tourism sector also plays a role in environmental concerns, due to the problems of ‘overtourism’ (L. Briguglio and Avellino, 2021). Malta’s environment is also characterized by challenges in areas such as air quality, waste management, transport and water supply. Although the environment features regularly in value surveys, it is often overshadowed by other concerns facing the Maltese people, including migration and, more recently, the cost of living (Debono, 2020a). Thus, there may be a paradox in the considerably high visibility of environmental contention with its respective positions in value surveys. Malta’s situation has been described as characterizing the ‘tragedy of the commons’ (Briguglio and Bonello, 2018). Malta has a large maritime territory, but paradoxically this field is under-researched in the social and political sciences. Contentious issues have emerged especially regarding coastal development and important industries such as fish farming (Briguglio, 2013). 63

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Malta’s environmental policy is subject to multilevel governance in view of the country’s international obligations in areas such as climate change, its membership of the EU, as well as its national state and, at a less influential level, its local and regional governments (Baldacchino, 2014; Briguglio, 2016a, 2016b; Micallef and Sammut, 2010).

Protests in Malta As mentioned earlier, protest often features in the action repertoire of many SMOs in Malta. In line with the sociological literature on protests (Johnston, 2014; Lofland, 1985; Opp, 2009), different types of protests, such as demonstrations and hunger strikes, have been recorded in Malta. However, in view of Malta’s small size, it is often difficult to distinguish between a demonstration and a press conference, and protests are hyper-personalized. Activists tend to wear multiple hats and are networked in different ways beyond their immediate activism. For example, political and media proximity play important roles in social movement activism. Moreover, given Malta’s small size, physical protest is never far away, thus influencing accessibility (Briguglio, 2022). Physical protest is not the only form of contentious activism in Malta. For example, digital activism has become prominent, especially on social media (Briguglio, 2018; Castells, 2012; Gerbaudo and Treré 2015). At the same time, it is important to note that protests have also been used as ‘weapons of the weak’ by informal and spontaneous organizers such as irregular migrants (Briguglio, 2022). Maltese civil society is characterized by other types of practice and action in addition to protest. For example, Borg’s (2021) study on women’s organizations shows that apart from some highly vociferous and visible women’s organizations, there are many others which are active in other ways, such as community work. Environmental activism in Malta has a long tradition and goes back to the 1960s when the country’s first ENGOs emerged. These ENGOs were chiefly concerned with the conservation of Malta’s flora and fauna and the preservation of the country’s natural and cultural heritage at a time when Malta was experiencing growth in areas such as manufacturing and tourism. In the 1980s, a new wave of environmentalists entered the public sphere. This was followed by the establishment of left-wing environmentalism in the 1990s and environmentalism in an EU context after Malta joined the Union (Briguglio, 2015a). Such developments resonate with the diversity of the environmental movement typified by Carter (2018) and others who also emphasize the growth of ‘do-it-ourselves’ political participation among the younger generation (Pickard et al., 2022) beyond traditional political institutions. Environmental protest in Malta has often been localized and related to development and construction. Although no macro studies have been published on the specific impact of environmental protests in Malta, one can say that at times they have played an important role in campaigns which have yielded results (Briguglio, 2016b; 2018; Visanich, 2022). Some successful campaigns such as Front Kontra l-Golf Kors (Galea, 2011) made greater use of community, media and political lobbying, even though they did sometimes turn to protest. However, the Front Kontra l-Golf Kors was especially notable for paving the way for other successful campaigns owing to its strategy of building coalitions between the environmental movements and other local, social and political forces. Other high-profile environmental protest campaigns, however, were less successful. A case in point is the wave of protests against the so-called rationalization of land boundaries in 2006 (Briguglio, 2012). Then, in 2015, Malta held a referendum on the hunting of birds during the spring months, which was won by the pro-hunting lobby by a wafer-thin majority (Briguglio, 2015b; Falzon, 2020). 64

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Methodology In order to respond to the research questions that were listed in the introductory chapter of this volume, this chapter uses protest event analysis (Hutter, 2014) to analyse the physical environmental protests that took place in Malta in 2020. This descriptive quantitative research method is often used to provide numerical data on various aspects of protest events which can subsequently be used for comparative analysis. Data were collected from Malta’s main news portals, via their respective Twitter feeds. The latter was used for practical purposes. In this regard, it is pertinent to note that the media plays a very important role in propagating environmental issues raised by ENGOs (Tindall et al., 2022). The dataset used for this chapter was taken from a larger dataset that was collected by the author concerning physical protests in Malta during 2020 (Briguglio, 2022). The data enabled the author to carry out a comprehensive analysis of all the protest events reported in Malta’s media during the year in question. Further research carried out by the author also made it possible to identify a number of protest events which were not reported in the media. In this study, the author also employs qualitative interpretation of particularities and characteristics related to Malta’s environmental movement.

Findings This section presents the data produced through protest event analysis related to the specific research questions and sub-questions.

What were the main issues relating to physical environmental protests in Malta in 2020? Figure 4.1 shows the main issues that sparked protests in Malta in 2020.

Figure 4.1 Specific issues leading to environmental protests Source: compiled by the author. 65

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The findings show that development and construction were by far the most prominent issues in the context of environmental protests held in Malta in 2020. This is very much in line with the thrust of protests in previous years. Moreover, they also confirm international scholarly research in the field, which found that localized issues are more likely to mobilize environmental activism, as has been the case in other countries in Southern Europe (Rootes, 2007a, 2007b). Indeed, climate change and bird hunting and trapping, which, although localized issues, are also subject to global and European legislation, and provoked a lower level of protest. Protests frequently employed discourse similar to that used in environmental protests in other countries against the neoliberalization of space, nature and the commons through capitalist exploitation (Grassi and Giugni 2022; Apostolopoulou, 2022).

Which organizations took part? Figure 4.2 shows which organizations were involved in holding environmental protests in Malta in 2020. Moviment Graffitti, a radical leftist organization, was the most prominent participant in environmental protests in Malta during 2020. This organization has been consistently active on environmental and other issues since its inception in 1994, and protest is a favoured tool among its action repertoire. It also fits neatly into the conceptualization of social movement organizations which link struggles against ‘social, spatial, and environmental inequality’ (Apostolopoulou, 2022). The second most prominent organizations were Flimkien għall-Ambjent Aħjar (FAA – Together for a Better Environment) and Extinction Rebellion Malta (also known as XR Malta). The former is active in matters related to urban development and has been consistently

Figure 4.2 Organizers of environmental protests in Malta, 2020 Source: compiled by the author.

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active in protests since it was formed during the time of Malta’s accession to the EU. The latter emerged in Malta in 2019 and is part of the international Extinction Rebellion movement. Interestingly, Extinction Rebellion Malta organized protests on global issues (climate change) and local issues such as road development, which in turn correlated to issues such as climate change. Maltese farmers were also active protesters, but did not mobilize as an organization. This is in line with protest activism which is not necessarily related to organization membership. However, as discussed below, the farmers’ activism was highly dependent on the activism of others, unlike migrants, for example, who in 2020 organized a relatively large number of human and workers’ rights protests without the backing of organizational set-ups or networks (Briguglio, 2022).

Which organizational networks were in place? Figure 4.3 shows the organizations with which Moviment Graffitti joined forces to carry out its protests in 2020. Moviment Graffitti employed a broad networking strategy with various environmental organizations, local councils and ‘non-organizations’ (such as the protesting farmers). Such movements often act as ‘brokers between densely connected sets of groups with a different focus’ (Diani, 2022, p. 297). This is very much in line with the strategies adopted by the environmental coalitions with which Moviment Graffitti has been involved previously. Moviment Graffitti was also a member of the 60-strong umbrella coalition of NGOs known as Spazji Miftuħa (Open Spaces) and its representatives took part in a protest organized by the Maltese eco-activist Xandru Cassar. Hence it is noteworthy that whereas some environmental

Figure 4.3 Moviment Graffitti environmental protest networks, 2020 Source: compiled by the author.

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protests were co-organized by two or more organizations, in the case of Spazji Miftuħa a name was given to the coalition, thereby enhancing its identity; this is similar to previous coalitions such as Front Kontra l-Golf Kors and Front Ħarsien ODZ. It is also interesting to note that Moviment Graffitti’s protests often took place in the areas related to the grievance in question. In this regard, as Apostolopoulou (2022, p. 571) claims, In most socio-environmental movements, attachment to place proves a key factor that relates to the need to oppose the dispossession of the commons. Place-based struggles by exploring ways to bring about social change through solidarity, cooperation, selfgovernance, egalitarianism, and democracy make certain commons sites of radical grassroots innovation and resistance. Similarly to Moviment Graffitti, FAA’s protests featured broad environmental networks, and it too was a member of Spazji Miftuħa. Most of its protests were held in the 10th electoral district, which leans towards the Nationalist Party and incorporates the cosmopolitan and middle-class towns such as Sliema and St Julian’s. FAA also held a protest with the direct participation of a political party, namely ADPD, Malta’s non-parliamentary green party. It is important to note, however, that in protests featuring local councils, the latter were made up of elected party representatives. Unlike Moviment Graffitti and FAA, Extinction Rebellion Malta was more likely to organize protests on its own. This new organization has formed fewer networks than the older ENGOs discussed above, and this is reflected in the fact that at least one of its protests was not reported in the media. In this case, a small protest on climate change was held by Malta’s representatives from the youth-led and -organized global ‘climate strike’ movement Fridays for Future that was started by the well-known eco-activist Greta Thurnberg, and in line with the demands of these respective organizations (Nulman, 2022). However, in 2019 Extinction Rebellion Malta co-organized a ‘climate strike’ protest with Friends of the Earth which gained

Figure 4.4 FAA’s environmental protest networks, 2020 Source: compiled by the author.

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Figure 4.5 Extinction Rebellion Malta’s environmental protest networks, 2020 Source: compiled by the author.

considerable media attention. It is also worth noting that during the COVID-19 pandemic, when social gatherings were banned, Extinction Rebellion evolved its tactics at a global level by taking its protests online (Nulman, 2022). Protests involving Maltese farmers did not feature farmers’ organizations but needed organizational backing. Once again, this shows the importance of social networks in environmental activism, even among groups that do not necessarily have the same world view, but which join forces to protest against the specific respective issues at stake.

Figure 4.6 The Maltese farmers’ environmental protest networks, 2020 Source: compiled by the author. 69

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How prominent were environmental protests in 2020? Figure 4.7 shows the issues characterizing protests in Malta in 2020 following the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic. Despite the restrictions on social mobility caused by the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic, environmental protest was the most common type of protest in Malta in 2020. It is also interesting to note that the main issues which featured prominently in Malta’s public sphere prior to the pandemic also featured prominently in protest issues during the year. Hence, the pandemic did not affect the prominence of environmental protest in Malta in 2020. Therefore, considering protests in general, ‘there was no correlation between the COVID19 context and number of protests’ held in 2020 (Briguglio, 2022, p. 322). During what was dubbed ‘the year of lockdown’ by Varieties of Democracy unlike some countries in which social gatherings were prohibited in order to curb the spread of the pandemic, physical protests actually took place in Malta (Alizada et al., 2021).

Conclusion The main findings of this study confirm that social activism in terms of environmental protest in Malta’s civil society continued even during the COVID-19 pandemic and the predominance of activism related to localized development/construction issues. Responses to the research questions posed by this study are as follows. The main issues were related to local grievances, chiefly relating to development and construction. In this regard, such activism can be interpreted as being for the ‘right to nature and the right to the city as key social rights: linking environmental to social and spatial justice’ (Apostolopoulou, 2022, p. 572). Within the context of a small island state, protests were never far away, thus enabling networking, mobilization and media coverage, whereby even localized issues were often articulated in the national media and on activists’ online platforms.

Figure 4.7 Protest issues in Malta, 2020 Source: compiled by the author. 70

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A broad range of ENGOs took part, with Moviment Graffitti and FAA being the most prominent. One could also observe the participation of some local councils and networks of people without representative protest organizations, such as farmers. At the same time, it should be emphasized that ENGOs not mentioned in this chapter were also active, but in different ways, often characterized by institutionalization and professionalization (Carter, 2018; Ollitrault, 2022). For example, ENGOs such as Nature Trust, Din l-Art Ħelwa (National Trust of Malta), and Birdlife were active in the management of nature reserves. This institutionalized type of activism does not necessarily lead to a lack of contentious activism. Birdlife Malta, for example, is both institutionalized and contentious, and this has been the case even in previous years (Briguglio, 2016c). In 2015 it was a prime mover in the organization of an unsuccessful national referendum against bird hunting in the spring months. Broad networks involving ENGOs and others were often in place, which is common in environmental protests around the world (Carter, 2018). In one instance, a coalition with its own identity was formed, namely Spazji Miftuħa, continuing a Maltese environmentalist tradition of monikers for broad coalitions. Moviment Graffitti and FAA often acted as brokers in the creation of networks. Within the context of a small state polity, networking is particularly important, given that some social movement organizations have built stronger networks with the media than others, and in some instances journalists are involved in their respective repertoires of contention, as the public sphere is characterized by activists, journalists and politicians taking on plural roles and wearing multiple hats (Briguglio, 2022, p. 322). At the same time, it should be noted that there may be other motives and incentives for people’s activism. For example, moral/ideological commitment is considered to be one of the main sources of influence in protests on climate change around the world (Saunders, 2022). However, it should be noted that even though environmentalism was prominent in Malta’s protest repertoire in 2020, as was the case in previous years, this did not necessarily mean that the environment was the major concern of people in Malta that year. In this regard, value surveys showed that the most prominent issues included COVID-19 and migration, which attracted fewer protests (Briguglio, 2022; Debono, 2020b; Sansone, 2020). This, in turn, confirms sociological criticism of theories which state that activism is directly related to grievances, and also points towards resource mobilization theories which state that protest is very much influenced by the availability of resources and social networks. At the same time, the high visibility of environmental protest can be interpreted as symbolizing the increasing importance of environmentalism in people’s everyday lives, which is not necessarily expressed through protest activism (Grassi and Giugni, 2022).

Suggestions for further research It is hoped that this study will encourage further research in the field, which could include comparative research on environmental protest in Malta post-pandemic to test its impact on the protest repertoire, and assessing the outcome and consequences of protests on environmental governance in Malta.

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Gerbaudo, P., and Treré, E. (2015). In Search of the ‘We’ of Social Media Activism: Introduction to the Special Issue on Social Media and Protest Identities. Information, Communication and Society, 18(8): 865–871. Grassi, M., and Giugni, M. (2022). Environmental Movements Worldwide. In M. Grassi and M. Giugni (Eds), The Routledge Handbook of Environmental Movements. Routledge. Hutter, S. (2014). Protest Event Analysis and its Offspring. In D. della Porta (Ed.), Methodological Practices in Social Movement Research (pp. 335–367). Oxford University Press. Johnston, H. (2014). What Is a Social Movement? John Wiley & Sons. Kavada, A., and Specht, D. (2022). Environmental Movements and Digital Media. In M. Grassi and M. Giugni (Eds), The Routledge Handbook of Environmental Movements. Routledge. Lofland, J. (1985). Protest: Studies of Collective Behaviour and Social Movements. Taylor & Francis. Lührmann, A., Maerz, S., Grahn, S., Alizada, N., Gastaldi, L., and Hellmeier, S., et al. (2020). Autocratization Surges: – Resistance Grows. Varieties of Democracy. www.v-dem.net/static/website/files/dr/ dr_2020.pdf (accessed 16 July 2021). Micallef, A., and Sammut, C. V. (2010). The Second National Communication of Malta to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change. Government of Malta and University of Malta. Nulman, E. (2022). Climate Change Movements in the Global North. In M. Grassi and M. Giugni (Eds), The Routledge Handbook of Environmental Movements. Routledge. Ollitrault, S. (2022). Environmental Movements in Western Europe: From Globalization and Institutionalization to a New Model of Radicalization in the Twenty-First Century? In M. Grassi and M. Giugni (Eds), The Routledge Handbook of Environmental Movements. Routledge. Opp, K. D. (2009). Theories of Political Protest and Social Movements. Routledge. Pickard, S., Bowman, B., and Arya, D. (2022). Youth and Environmental Activism. In M. Grassi and M. Giugni (Eds), The Routledge Handbook of Environmental Movements. Routledge. Rootes, C. (2007a). Environmental Movements. In D. A. Snow, D. A. Soule, and H. Kriesi (Eds), The Blackwell Companion to Social Movements (pp.608–640). Blackwell Publishing. Rootes, C. (2007b). Conclusion: Environmental Protest Transformed? In C. Rootes (Ed.), Environmental Protest in Western Europe (pp. 234–257). Oxford University Press. Sadiki, L., and Saleh, L. (2021). Editors’ Introduction. Protest, 1(1), 1–5. Sansone, K. (2020). Maltatoday Survey: Migration, the Opposition and COVID-19Are Top Three Concerns. Malta Today, 28 July. www. maltatoday.com.mt/news/data_and_surveys/103830/migra tion_the_opposition_ and_covid19_are_top_three_concerns#.YPFU2z3is2w. Saunders, C. (2022). Social Networks and Recruitment for Environmental Movements. In M. Grassi and M. Giugni (Eds), The Routledge Handbook of Environmental Movements. Routledge. Sultana, R. G., and Baldacchino, G. (1994). Sociology and Maltese Society: The Field and its Context. In R. G. Sultana and G. Baldacchino (Eds), Maltese Society: A Sociological Inquiry (pp. 1–21). Mireva Publications. Tindall, D. B., Berseth, V., Martel-Morin, M., and Lachapelle, E. (2022). Political Values and Socialization in Environmental Movements. In M. Grassi and M. Giugni (Eds), The Routledge Handbook of Environmental Movements. Routledge. Visanich, V. (2022) Public opinion and protest efficacy: A study on the proposed yacht marina in Marsaskala, Malta. Xjenza Online, 10(2): 103–114. Wennerhag, M., and Hylmö, M. (2022). Social Class and Environmental Movements. In M. Grassi and M. Giugni (Eds), The Routledge Handbook of Environmental Movements. Routledge.

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5 The politics of land, space, social movements and identity in Jamaica’s Cockpit Country Jordan K. Williams

Introduction This chapter explores the impact of social resistance as a response to government approaches to mining in the Cockpit Country in Jamaica. The Cockpit Country represents a diverse biological, cultural and geological site that provides 40 per cent of exploitable water resources in Jamaica. The survivability of the region faces significant existential threats due to the country’s relatively high dependency on mining to drive the economy. Current economic development models in the region demand increased investment and expansions in this sector, often without critical consideration of mechanisms to respond to climate change. These economic models and practices have been met with increased social movements and advocacy to resist antiquated mining practices in the region. The aggressive approach of citizens and movements has forced the government to enact policies to address civil society concerns. Jamaica has embraced mining as the panacea for generating national income and advancing socioeconomic development. However, as globalization diversifies global economies, this sector has declined significantly; the situation has been exacerbated by the COVID-19 pandemic. Continuous mining in the protected Cockpit Country in Jamaica has attracted a steady stream of interest and controversy. Understanding Jamaica’s political context is critical to unpacking this phenomenon. Discussions around, and interests in, Jamaica’s Cockpit Country exist in the context of the prospects of mining for the economy and the negative impact thereof on climate change. The Cockpit Country is often described as one of the most inhospitable areas in Jamaica. It is a hilly limestone-rich expanse totalling 500 sq miles and spans the parishes of Trelawny, St Elizabeth, St James, St Ann, Manchester and northern Clarendon. The insularity of the Cockpit Country’s natural resources offers protection from exploitation and mining. However, it is becoming increasingly attractive to venture capitalists and the bourgeois class. The Cockpit Country is also home to the Accompong Maroons1 who are often considered to be indigenous Jamaicans. The Maroons and environmental activists have engaged in protests to challenge the government’s decisions concerning mining and its inadequate conservation plans. Equally, environmental non-governmental organizations (ENGOs) have played an integral role in organizing

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DOI: 10.4324/9781003341536-7

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anti-mining campaigns on social media. Counter arguments abound as the symbols of this reality represent the whole. This chapter explores the Cockpit Country debate and the impact of citizens on the issue, to understand the significance of civil society in promoting environmental justice and policy reform. The chapter interrogates (a) the role of Maroon communities in advancing environmental justice; (b) the experiences of social movements in shaping best practices and policies in the Cockpit Country; and (c) the sociopolitical undertones that have shaped the movement to protect the area. The chapter employs an amalgamation of research tools, namely video content analysis, document analysis, and archival research so as to understand the social responses to mining in this area. The aggressive approach of citizens and movements have forced the government to enact holistic policies to protect the site. The chapter is organized in six sections. Following this introductory section, the chapter presents background information about the Cockpit Country. This is followed, in the third section, by a literature review on issues associated with the theme of this chapter. The fourth section explains the methodology used to respond to the research questions, while the fifth section presents and discusses the findings. The final section concludes the chapter with some implications drawn from the results of the study.

The site: the Cockpit Country This section explores the history of the Cockpit Country’s rich biodiversity and cultural experiences that are influenced by the area’s insularity and endemism. The Cockpit Country is one of the most famous cockpit karsts in the world owing to its topography. Fleurant et al. (2008, p. 4) highlight this type of karst as ‘polygonal’; it typically occurs ‘under humid tropical climatic conditions’. According to Day (1979), cockpit karsts are the most extensive landform in Jamaica accounting for 60 per cent of all karsts on the island. Miller (2003, p. 189) defines cockpit karsts as ‘steep-sided, enclosed depressions with convex side-slopes, forming depressions’). The formation of the Cockpit Country is framed by 12 million years of evolution. The Windsor Research Centre (WRC) (2014, para. 3) provides two theories to understand Jamaica’s cockpit karsts. The first is the solution theory, that ‘heavy tropical rainfall washing through a fissured limestone plateau over millions of years dissolved and eroded the fissures and washed the debris through the sinkholes eventually out to sea’. This position is supported by Sweeting’s (1972) hypothesis that sustained annual rainfall of 1,500 mm was essential to these polygonal structures. The second theory, the ‘collapse theory’, purports that ‘the formation and subsequent collapse of cave systems is the primary mechanism in its formation’ (WRC, 2014, para. 6). The structure and endemism of the Cockpits have functionally made the area an island within the island (Lyew-Ayee, 2010). The Cockpit Country is unique because it includes an upper watershed for five major rivers, namely the Black River, the Great River, the Martha Brae River, the Montego River and Rio Bueno. Globally, Jamaica is recognized as the land of ‘wood and water’, an identifier attached to the Cockpit Country. Insularity in the Cockpit Country has informed the evolution of flora and fauna, as isolation influences the evolution of species not found elsewhere on the island. The Cockpit Country is home to 101 endemic plants and several species of animal life including 21 endemic bat species (Forestry Department, 2020). Additionally, the region is rich in diverse amphibian and reptile populations (37 species) and 28 bird species2 that have adapted to the rainforests that support native biota. Importantly, scholars report that the Cockpit Country ‘supports the largest number of globally threatened species of any key biodiversity area, with 59 species (including 75

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Figure 5.1 Reference map of Jamaica Source: drawn by the author.

11 amphibians and 40 plants)’ (Birdlife International et al., 2010, p. 14). Despite these threats to biodiversity, the Cockpit Country still serves as a significant contributor in ‘mitigating climate change by regulating carbon, ozone, and other chemicals in the atmosphere’ (Caribbean Natural Resources Institute et al., 2019, p. 37). Furthermore, the legacy of the Cockpit Country is that of a source of refuge for threatened populations and embracing marginalized peoples. As a cultural site, the Cockpit Country is recognized as the birthplace of marronage and Afro-Jamaican sovereignty. In the 17th century, the terrain allowed enslaved people called ‘cimarrones’3 to flee the Spanish plantations and evade capture. In 1655, when the British invaded and colonized Jamaica, the cimarrones were joined by runaways from British colonialism and renamed Maroons. The Cockpit Country was the site of the First Maroon War in the 1730s. After the war, the Leeward Maroons signed a peace treaty (1739) with the British. Similarly, the Windward Maroons signed a treaty that granted them autonomy. These treaties facilitated the emergence of Maroons as the first police constabulary, who assisted with the pursuit, capture and return of runaway slaves to the planter class (Sivapragasam, 2018). Maroon-British relations remained relatively peaceful until the start of the Second Maroon War. This was provoked by a growing number of protests against the British, notably the whipping of two Maroons convicted of taking pigs from a runaway slave they had returned to the British colonial authorities (Sherlock and Bennett, 1998). During the Second Maroon War runaway slaves allied and settled in Trelawny Town which violated the terms of the treaty of 1739. After eight months of war and bloodshed, Maroon and British leaders agreed to new terms which demanded that Maroons beg on their knees for the King’s forgiveness (Sivapragasam, 2018). Subsequently, in 1796, 581 Trelawny Town Maroons were transported to Nova Scotia, Canada (Senior 2003, p. 309). The remaining Maroons joined Accompong or established various settlements in the Cockpit Country (Winks, 1997). Accompong continued as an enslavement constabulary and remains an autonomous region in independent Jamaica (Jamaica National Heritage Trust, 2016). Since their settlement, the Accompong Maroons have been gatekeepers of the environmental movements and anti-exploitation campaigns that safeguard the Cockpit Country. Since the

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mid-2010s, Maroons’ voices have become vociferous in dampening dreams of mining and conquest of the uncharted areas. Owing to the prospect of increased mining, an impending climate crisis and environmental movement protests, Cockpit politics have received increased national and international attention. The current literature on the Cockpit Country is focused on its socio-historical legacies and geological features. However, there remains quietude regarding social movements as gatekeeping mechanisms of environmental justice. Nonetheless, the aggression of environmental activism for protecting the natural resources brings to the fore the need for further exploration of social movements and their role in the ordinary politics that surround the Cockpit Country.

Politics of space and definitions According to Heileman (2005), mining provides a vital and consistent source of foreign exchange for countries. As the government of Jamaica seeks to boost the local economy, there has been growing concern on the ground about plans to expand bauxite mining in the Cockpit Country. These conversations are driven by previous mining successes that have shaped Jamaica’s exportation history. The Cockpit Country ‘supports the largest remaining intact wet limestone forest in Jamaica’ (BirdLife et al., 2010, p. 62). Bauxite is viewed as an attractive, unexploited natural resource with the potential to increase Jamaica’s gross domestic product (GDP) and foreign income. Consequently, the growing interest of mining companies has aroused the attention of local environmentalists who wish to protect the area. Much controversy surrounds the discussion due to successive governments’ failure to properly outline the boundaries of the Cockpit Country, and to implement sustainable conservation plans. Although both the Maroons and the British had referred to the region as the Cockpit Country, this term predates geologists’ typology of cockpit karsts. Importantly, the boundaries of the Cockpit Country remain poorly defined and outlined. Eyre (1995) was the first scholar to advocate for the designation of the region as a world heritage site, in order to safeguard its natural resources.4 Following this proposal, the most significant response by any government of Jamaica was a pledge by former Prime Minister Bruce Golding in 2007. Golding promised the Jamaica Environmental Entrepreneurs’ Advocacy Network that the government of Jamaica would clearly define the boundaries in ‘what has generally become known as the Cockpit Country’ and prevent mining in the area. This promise did not result in any substantive policy or legal framework; rather, the government commissioned a boundary study to clearly define the contours of the contested Cockpits.5 The boundaries proposed from this study were rejected by the Maroons (Jamaica Environmental Entrepreneurs’ Advocacy Network, 2008). Proposals for the boundaries of the Cockpit Country have been dominated by Lyew-Ayee’s (2005) outline, which is informed by geomorphology and excludes the socio-historical legacy of the Maroons. Critics have noted that this delineation is reductive and political as it invalidates the lived realities of human inhabitants of the area. In 2013, the University of the West Indies conducted a follow-up inquiry to define the boundaries using public consultation, the results of which were also rejected (Webber and Noel, 2013). In 2017, the incumbent Prime Minister Andrew Holness, in what has been perceived as a response to public pressure and environmental interests, declared the boundaries for the Cockpit Country.6 Holness signalled that the considerations were consistent with the current approaches to protecting the area. Civil society and ENGOs challenged the framing of the definitions, stating that while it was not current it was nevertheless in keeping with the Golding promise of 2007. Nonetheless, Holness proposed two boundaries for the Cockpit Country. 77

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The first is the ‘geomorphological boundary’ that emerged from Lyew-Ayee (2005), which the Prime Minister and by extension, the Cabinet, accepted in its original state. The second, ‘the Cockpit Country Protected Area (CCPA)’ would be gazetted and closed to any mining and quarrying activity. Civil society, led by the WRC, rejected this designation highlighting the failure of the boundaries to recognize and include Accompong. According to the WRC (2018), Maroon-British social actors referred to the area as the Cockpits for 200 years before Sweeting (1958) coined the term ‘cockpit karst’. On this premise, it is thought that no definition of the boundaries of the area can exist without including the Maroon-British legacy in addition to hydrological, geomorphic and ecological legacies. The WRC and the Maroons suggest that this politicized definition of the Cockpit Country exists to alter the course of history and separate their lands from the rest of the Cockpit Country. Notably, the Cockpit Country is generally recognized as one of the most uninhabitable areas on the island for humans, with Maroons settling in areas of the karst lands with relatively safe access. It is this accessibility to the karst lands, relative to the more treacherous parts of the island, that would make mining activities more feasible in the Maroon-settled areas. Environmentalists and other civil society groups are vehement in their opinion that by excluding Maroon settlements from the CCPA, the government of Jamaica can justify mining activities around the boundaries. This framing of environmental protection is problematic as it allows mining stakeholders to employ revisionist lenses to support capitalistic ventures which unquestionably threaten endemic species. The definition of these boundaries of the Cockpit Country should not exclude endemic culture and social activities that have shaped current understanding and protections. It is self-evident that the government’s use of a reductive definition is a political tool to excuse the expansion of mining into virgin karst lands.

Literature review Jamaica and the mining industry Jamaica, a Caribbean island, with a population of approximately 2.9 million people (World Bank, 2020) is a constitutional monarchy with a Westminster model of parliamentary government. Since independence, its political landscape has been dominated by two major political parties: the centre-right Jamaica Labour Party (JLP) and the centre-left People’s National Party (PNP) (Ferguson et al., 2021). The two-party dominance in Jamaica has nurtured aggressive political tribalism and othering (Gray, 2004). Consequently, victory ‘addiction’ dictates that all policy and national concerns are centred along party lines. The economy and social development are the most contentious areas of bipartisanship. In the Caribbean, mining is primarily concerned with bauxite, limestone, alumina, sand and gravel. Historically, bauxite mining has topped the ores contributing to Jamaica’s GDP and stabilizing its economy. At the same time, limited access to land, stagnation in employment, and International Monetary Fund and World Bank ‘development mandates’ have placed Jamaica in crisis (Powers et al., 2018, p. 77); these realities have been exacerbated by the disproportionate impact of climate change. Jamaican environmental and community organizations continue to experience difficulties with the expansion of mining, citing environmental injustice (Phillips, 1988; Connell, 2020). The demand for work in economically depressed areas notwithstanding, mining severely hinders efforts to save land and communities (Powers et al., 2018). Jamaica’s mining sector was birthed in 1955, at which time the country was the world’s second largest producer of aluminium (Pearson, 1957; Sprague, 2015). Jamaica’s bauxite output declined from 18 per cent in the 1970s to less than 2 per cent of the total global production of 78

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300 million metric tons in 2018 (Jamaica Bauxite Institute, 2021). According to Linton (2019), the mining of minerals accounted for 2.7 per cent of the country’s GDP, or US $1.3 billion in that year. As the government of Jamaica and stakeholders ‘revitalize’ the industry and intensify approaches (Okubo, 2020), environmentalists are warning about the implications of mining activities for climate change. As the impact of climate change alters realities in the Caribbean, calls for sustainable environmental management have increased significantly. Importantly, islands must learn lessons from the self-inflicted fate of the Pacific island of Nauru. Economic success and political greed contributed to the depletion of Nauru’s natural phosphate resources, which Gowdy and McDaniel (1999) had warned about. Globalization and capitalism have increasingly undermined the political sagacity of small island developing states (SIDS).

Social movements Drake (2013, p. 134) defines social movements as ‘the self-organization part of civil society’ formed around particular issues and concerns. These movements ‘have been the vehicle through which political activity has created sweeping changes that have transformed societies around the world’ (Drake, 2013, pp. 134–135). Tarrow (2011, p. 9) notes that social movements are ‘collective challenges, based on common purposes and social solidarities, in sustained interaction with elites, opponents, and authorities’. Social movements are generally geared towards social or political change in social structures (Yadav, 2016; Rao, 2012). Fundamentally, the features highlighted by Tarrow must be recognized as prerequisites for all social movements. Jasper (2007, p. 4451) supports the notion that ‘sustained’ in the context of social movements ‘implies that movements differ from single events such as riots or rallies. Their persistence often allows them to develop formal organizations, but they may also operate through informal social networks’. Additionally, Tilly and Wood (2019) asserts that social movements are ‘a major vehicle for ordinary people’s participation in public politics’ (p. 6). Equally, civil disobedience is vital to the campaigning mechanisms. Moreover, during the 1960/70s, the concept of social movements evolved in liberal democracies. Subsequently, Hallsworth (1994) argues that the progress of traditional movements to ‘new social movements’ captures environmentalism or ecology movements. In the tradition of ‘new social movements’, social actors are concerned with the protection of the social and natural environments from perceived threats. Definitions of environmental movements have generally adhered to the structure of new social movements. According to Rootes and Nulman (2015, p. 730), an environmental movement can be defined as a ‘loose, noninstitutionalized network of informal interactions … individuals and groups who have no organizational affiliation, organizations of varying degrees of formality, and is engaged in collective action motivated by shared identity or concern about environmental issues’. Hallsworth (1994) characterizes social movements in the new tradition by low-level bureaucratic models, full participation in decision-making, and participatory approaches to democracy. Through new social movements, citizens have used their voices and relative social power to inform political processes and legislation. Even when social movements fail to achieve their goals and mandates, the meaningful discussions that surround them provide public attention to flawed social structures. Equally, some social movements have provoked international conversations that have shaped contemporary society. The civil rights movement in the United States (Jasper, 2007) and the anti-apartheid movements in South Africa (Madlingozi, 2007) illustrate the pivotal role of ordinary citizens in public campaigns and collective challenges of political dogma or oppression. Social movements are often the catalyst for social provocation needed to bring international attention to social exclusion and structural violence. Jasper (2007) 79

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highlights that the evolution of such movements has been centred around the question of movements overcoming repression by the state. Political ideologies of the state generally inform the character of social movements. States are sometimes manufacturers of institutional and structural violence with which all social movements must contend (Meyer et al., 2002) Social movements operate within these parameters created by the state and its power. According to Greer (1997, p. 110), ‘the emergence and creation of ideology in social movements is tied to cultural frameworks as well as socioeconomic and political conditions’. The agentic role of social movements in brokering violence and social change is guided by the movement’s ethos (Louis and Montiel, 2018). Aggressive approaches by social movements are generally observed where the stakes are higher for their success, as evidenced by the civil rights, anti-colonialism and LGBT movements. Moreover, social movements serve a functional role in developing self-identity and citizenship for socially excluded groups (Eyben and Ladbury, 2006). The state is built and strengthened by involving social change through the participation of excluded people (Eyben and Ladbury, 2006). Through environmental social movements, civil society and ENGOs have demanded accountability and protection of natural resources. For SIDS, social activism is necessary to magnify islanders’ voices against external threats caused by imperialist and neocolonialism/ capitalism. Doyle (2005) explores the significance of environmental movements in the archipelagic state, the Philippines. Religious and faith-based leaders play a dominant role in environmental justice (Doyle, 2005). The success of Judeo-Christian leaders in the Philippines provides a progressive model for environmentalists in SIDS. The intimacy of small islands provides community and religious leaders with the strong social capital needed to sustain movements and lobby social change. Filipino environmental movements have traditionally addressed mining and environmental mismanagement at all levels, although 20th-century responses charted the course for the significant growth of ENGOs and civil society organizations (CSOs) (Broad, 1994). Notably, environmental social movements have played a ‘prominent role in the rapidly growing resistance to globalization’ (Mittelman, 2000, p. 383). In island states around the globe, environmental movements cannot be reduced solely to environmental justice but must recognize the response and resistance of islanders to neocolonialism and imperialism. The aforesaid is observed in the Canary Islands (Bianchi, 2002), Barbados (Pelling and Uitto, 2001) and the Pacific Islands (Kuletz, 2002). According to Earle, social movements have been particularly successful in Latin America in boosting a sense of citizenship and inclusion. In the case of Brazil, social activists have succeeded in framing ‘basic rights’ as ‘citizenship rights’. Fundamentally, these movements have conflated the rights to services into citizenship rights, to justify the claims of low-income households (Earle, cited in Khan et al., 2015). In general, CSOs play a vital role in politics, ‘defending collective interests and increasing accountability; providing solidarity mechanisms and encouraging participation; influencing decision making; directly engaging in service delivery; and challenging prejudice’ (Khan et al., 2015, p. 59). This arrangement must be grounded in participatory models and approaches whereby the voices of excluded groups and marginalized people are amplified. Equally, civil society, through relative social capital and resources, ‘play an important role in conducting research to raise the profile of excluded groups’ (Khan et al., 2015, p. 59).

Jamaica’s social movements Social movements have played an important role in the evolution and development of Caribbean societies. Girvan (2012) asserts that social movements have challenged neoliberalism 80

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through their protest bilateral trade arrangements with the European Union. Corrales (2017) asserts that LGBT social movements, despite the states’ challenges, have made significant strides for queer rights in the region. The aforesaid is more recently outlined in the number of pride events that have been orchestrated in the Caribbean. According to Dixon (2020), the Latin American and the Caribbean (LAC) region has a long history of black nationalist social movements. The politicization of black bodies and experiences is recognized as contentious in social movements, particularly regarding Quilombos, or Palenques, and Maroon communities in LAC. Dixon (2020, para. 1) asserts that many of these communities still exist in movements geared towards the ‘constant battle to defend their lands and identities as they continue to fight for their rights’. Social movements of racial justice in LAC are recognized as slave rebellions, the Haitian Revolution and the Cuban Partido Independiente de Color (Independent Party of Color): ‘These social movements formed part of the vertebra of Black social movements in the Americas for autonomy and self-determination’ (Dixon, 2020, para. 3). In the context of Jamaica, similar social movements and revolutions have supported pro-black sensitivities; Garveyism (Brown, 2004) and the Rastafari (Dagnini, 2009) movements have shaped national and regional sociopolitical frames. Garveyism emerged from the teachings and philosophies of Marcus Garvey, a Jamaican pan-Africanist and black separationist. Garveyism is recognized as a social movement of black empowerment and pride that challenged white supremacy as a dominant political ideology. Garveyism challenged the state and social structures in North America, Europe, and Africa (Ewing, 2016). The Garvey movement is not simply an ideology, but rather a means of recourse to raw mass politics for ordinary black people (Ewing, 2016). This movement has been fundamental to racial justice in Jamaica. The work of Garvey and the movement itself are the source of and inspiration for other social movements, most notably the Rastafari movement (Phillie, 2002). Rastafari emerged in Jamaica in the 1930s as a response to the oppression and exploitation of black bodies. The movement was characterized as a counter-culture because of its anti-state, imperialist/Western posture; this resulted in state-sanctioned violence against the Rasta community. According to Gray (1991), the state ordered that Rasta settlements be destroyed, and activists placed under police surveillance. By 1963, the presence of the movement was so significant that the government of Jamaica ordered that Rastas be brought in dead or alive, leading to the infamous ‘Coral Gardens Massacre’ (Campbell, 2014). The philosophy and teachings of the movement changed the landscape of self and national identity in Jamaica and beyond. Importantly, music, specifically reggae, has become integral to social movements of race and racial identity. Phillie (2002, para. 20) highlights that ‘reggae music served as a medium through which the views of Rastafari were expressed’. Jamaica has used Rastafari music to caption and campaign for social movements. This approach has been vital to fuelling resistance and nurturing a collective identity. ‘Music has played a major role in the matrix of nationalistic thought. It is ultimately the formation of a strong collective identity that enables social movements and power struggles to transform political and social structures’ (Newey, 2016, p. 61). The Maroon-led social movements in Jamaica are laced with the approaches, perspectives and philosophies of Garveyism and Rastafari. The campaign for environmental justice in the Cockpit Country cannot be reduced to contentions over land but must also recognize the racial and anti-imperial undertones that have framed Maroon movements in the LAC region. In addition to Dixon’s (2020) assertion that current Maroon social movements are aimed at autonomy and identity, this chapter notes Connell’s (2020) use of Maroon resistance in Jamaica as a mechanism to maintain black nationalism. Social movements surrounding the Cockpits must be entrenched in complex frameworks to respond to the socio-historical legacy of the 81

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region. The Cockpit controversy looks at environmentalism as a social movement; however, it challenges the wider sociopolitical dogma of neoliberalism and capitalism that many islands and small states face in the global economy. These discussions are fundamentally driven by pressure to respond to capitalistic interests and economic demands. Moreover, elements of the Cockpit social movements are observed in Rastafari’s aim of shunning Western civilization. Naturally, Maroons, Rastas and other ostracized Afro-Jamaican groups (for example, Kumina, Revival, Obeah) have joined in solidarity to challenge social structures that appeal to imperialism and exclude blackness (Cross, 2016). This solidarity of predominantly Afro-Jamaican groups has informed the configuration of Afro-Jamaican civil society, which has facilitated the emergence of more conceptually and philosophically tailored approaches specific to the concerns of socially excluded people. Dixon (2020, para. 21) highlights that these configurations are important to the plight of black people in LAC, where civil society is centred on ‘issues of racialization, modalities of Black consciousness, the repertoires’ of multiple black identities, and centuries of fight for human rights.

Methodology This qualitative case study involves explorations of social actions or events. The case study design is appropriate because it pulls together varying perceptions and experiences of actors associated with the movement. This study is primarily informed by data retrieved from over 70 newspaper articles selected from the electronic websites and physical copies of two leading newspapers, The Gleaner and the Jamaica Observer, between October 2006 and January 2022, that were evaluated using content analysis. These articles chronicle the role of activists in challenging policy and practice. These two sources have garnered significant sociopolitical capital and present issues that reflect community support. Importantly, the use of these two newspapers is aimed at balancing perceptions of political bias and allegiance. As noted by Johnson-Myers (2019, p. 8) in an analysis of cartoon editorials in these papers, ‘it can be deduced from their coverage of political candidates and issues that The Gleaner leans toward the PNP, while The Jamaica Observer leans toward the JLP’. Similarly, articles from the Accompong News Network (ANN)7 and the Jamaica Information Service (JIS) (government-owned media) were used to provide insights from major players in the political space of the Cockpit Country. Notably, articles from the ANN were used to draw the voice, opinions and actions of Maroon communities, (who are often separationist) into the larger environmental movement. This chapter is guided by the broad codes and themes that emerged from the content analysis. These codes incorporate the following: politics of space and definitions; sovereignty and environmental justice; politics of ordinary people; and class and party politics. According to Granner et al. (2009, p. 656), content analysis of newspapers is ‘a valuable method to assess community opinions, advocacy and change’ as they record significant developments and setbacks in the movements. The study also used video content analysis to examine the events of a September 2019 protest, where the philosophical contention between environmental activists and pro-mining advocates was displayed in the capital, Kingston.

Findings Sovereignty and environmental justice The Maroon communities in the Cockpit Country are environmental justice activists in the fight against exploitation and mining. In 2007, the former chief, Colonel Peddie, had 82

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challenged the government of Jamaica’s issuance of a license to mine areas willed to Accompong in the 1739 treaty. Peddie and current leader Chief Currie stated the willingness of the Maroons to wage ‘war’ to protect the Cockpit Country. The Maroon leaders did not insinuate a physical war but suggested the commitment to do whatever might be necessary, a warning that raised alarm in Jamaica given the legacy of the Maroons in anti-imperialist resistance (Connell, 2020). In support of the Maroon resistance, a Caribbean judge, Anthony Ross,8 vowed to offer legal advice to the Maroon leaders to assist them in their goal to protect the Cockpit Country. Judge Ross contended that legal precedence had been established in the case of challenges over land rights mounted by indigenous Indian communities in Canada (Housen, 2007). In response to this challenge, the government of Jamaica withdrew the licence and noted that future considerations would be grounded in scientific data that benefit all parties. However, the charge to go to war represents the legacy of Maroons as gatekeepers of the Cockpit Country. Accompong Maroons embrace their role of protector because historically the karst lands served as protector and home for them as former nomadic enslaved peoples (Connell 2020). The spiritual and ecological benefits of the Cockpit Country to Maroon communities support a dominant position that there are no gains to be had from any mining activities. Equally, the role of the Maroons as environmental warriors predates the existence of Jamaica; therefore, conversations about access cannot exclude this community. The assertive position adopted by the Accompong Maroons, civil society, the mass media and EGNOs was particularly successful in 2007, as the government of Jamaica agreed to place a moratorium on mining, at least temporarily (Fuentes-George, 2016). As the politics of boundary definition unfolds, tensions between the government of Jamaica and the Maroons have increased. Maroon leaders (particularly Chief Currie) have argued that the government of Jamaica’s desire to prioritize geomorphic definitions and subsequent Maroon exclusion is an approach that violates the 1739 treaty and exploits Maroon lands. According to the ANN (2021, para. 1), the Maroon leader notes: The government of Jamaica has backed off mining on approximately fifteen thousand acres of land surrounding the Cockpit Country, land ceded to the Maroons in a Treaty spanning almost 300 years between the Leeward Maroons and the British Empire. …. Minister of Mining in the Jamaica Government Robert Montague … announced Jamaica’s retreat from the Maroon lands … a well-boosted victory that will no doubt increase the resolve of Maroons to protect their lands known as Cockpit Country. In demonstrating environmental aggression, the Maroon community does not limit its land and power to the areas outlined in the treaty as its members maintain that the Cockpit Country is sovereign Maroon territory, and not solely the 1,220 acres under question. Chief Currie’s dominant social media presence has magnified the Maroons’ oral history that the majority of St Elizabeth and Trelawny was provided for the Maroons in the treaty, albeit that no note was made of this in the official document (Connell, 2020). These renewed territorial claims are unlikely to be approved or ratified, made contemptuous by Currie’s claim of sovereignty from the government of Jamaica. In response to the argument, Prime Minister Holness has dismissed these claims stating that ‘Jamaica is a unitary sovereign state. There is no other sovereign authority in Jamaica other than the Government of Jamaica. I want that to be absolutely clear! None!’ (CVM Television, 2022). To some extent, the Maroons’ arguments regarding sovereignty have further politicized definitions of the Cockpit Country, complicating efforts of a unified position. Although this chapter does not explore the details of the 1739 treaty, it remains contentious in mass media. 83

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Accompong Maroons have had autonomy over their affairs; however, the community is reliant on the government of Jamaica to provide social protection systems and the necessary legal documents (passports, national identification), its members vote in general elections and work in the private and public sectors. The Accompong Maroons have moved to implement their currency, but this has not materialized. The wrenching position between the Maroons and government of Jamaica regarding sovereignty is a manifestation of conflicting philosophical positions on imperialism and mining. Maroon separationism has fostered social and economic systems of self-reliance and independence. On the other hand, since independence the government of Jamaica has aligned its society and economy to replicate Euro-American frameworks and validation. The philosophy of Maroon communities is grounded in pan-Africanist and pro-Africa vantage points, whereas Jamaican government officials have adapted to Western philosophies. To some extent, the conflation of environmental justice and politics has illustrated the inherent flaws of adopting a definition that excludes lived realities given that the anti-mining and sovereignty campaigns of the Maroons are not isolated events (Besson, 2015). According to Fuentes-George (2016), the campaign by the Maroons goes beyond protecting biodiversity, to safeguarding communal identity, history, existence, and significance in the wider global politics. Accompong Maroons have celebrated the independence that they demanded from the British, in contrast to the flag independence of Jamaica, which has retained the British monarch as head of state. The claims of sovereignty and anti-mining also recognize separation from all colonial involvement. The mining pressures facing the government of Jamaica are largely from foreign sources, which goes against the Maroons’ principles against imperialism as symbolized by their flag. Consequently, the spatial features of the battle are interminable ‘transnational racial capitalism’ and industrial modernity (Connell, 2020, p. 236). The sovereignty argument is an incantation against mining because of the environmental politics that have generated controversies in the Cockpit Country. Moreover, Connell (2020) asserts that the approach of the Maroons is a maxim for other Afro-Caribbean indigenous groups in conflict over land and resources.

The politics of ordinary people: the role of social movements The Maroon-led anti-mining movement has been significantly boosted by civil society and the ‘Save Cockpit Country’ environmental social movement. The structure and approach of these movements in Jamaica are well situated in Tarrow’s (2011) prerequisites for social movements. Emerging in October 2006, the ‘Save the Cockpit Country’ campaign is one of the most significant environmental movements in the last two decades in Jamaica.9 Its activities have been sustained over time, with a peak in momentum in 2017, reflected by an increase in its social media presence. In 2017, advocacy was intensified to expiate perceptions that the government of Jamaica would allow mining in the Cockpit Country. Subsequently, environmentalists organized an online petition posted to the website of the Prime Minister’s Office. Social media platforms have been flooded with information on endemic flora and fauna, and water sources to rally national interest for the protection of the Cockpits. In early 2022, ubiquitously, the most visible policy or political action was implemented to protect and define the area. Nonetheless, there remain tensions between notions of mining in the Cockpit Country and environmental advocacy. Since the birthing of the movement 2006, it has been sustained. This feature distinguishes the movement from single event civil unrest. However, the Cockpit Country’s hinterland communities and environmentalist movement was again reignited in 2013, as plans emerged for mining the Trelawny Cockpits. In a 2013 study commissioned by the WRC, Jamaicans from all 14 parishes were not only in solidarity with the ‘Save the Cockpit’ movement but 84

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were also willing to pay for it (Thompson, 2013). This study of a socioeconomically diverse sample of 2,000 Jamaicans endorses the claim that the Cockpits should be protected, and that ordinary citizens are prepared to support this movement financially. According to Edwards (2011, p. 30), the study quantifies that society’s value for preserving Cockpit Country is $2.56 billion per year if you base this on a Special Consumption Tax. This is compared to an estimated annual value of $4.2 billion that is based on respondents trading off between a voluntary fund and their expenses to preserve Cockpit Country. Environmentalists have argued that this non-use value of the Cockpit Country illustrates the concerns of ordinary Jamaicans on the survivability of endemic species and the protection of natural water resources. Such environmental justice suggests that through social movements/ campaigns citizens are informed of environmental management and the risk of dangerous practices. This also reflects the readiness of ordinary Jamaicans to use their personal finances to invest in conservation and protection plans for the Cockpits. This proposal provides insights into possible sustainable government revenue without yielding to external mining pressures. Additionally, Edwards (2011, p. 30) asserts that the non-use value of protecting the Cockpit Country includes values that individuals have for their potential use of the area, values for keeping the area preserved for future generations as well as values associated with their use or indirect uses of the ecosystem services …. for example, water supply, clean air, or fuelwood. The WRC’s ardent rhetoric against mining in the Cockpit Country has been strengthened by the observation that Jamaicans are prepared to forego the potential increase in GDP which derives from this sector. It reflects the transition in attitudes from ‘Save the Cockpit’ to ‘We will pay to save the Cockpit’. This is not simply the voices of ordinary people speaking up against mining activities, but the intention to supplement the national budget through environmental taxes. The report shows that for civil society those economic benefits are of less consequence in comparison to the Cockpit Country’s significance as a geological, socio-historical and climate change mitigation site. The 2018–2019 period of the environmental social movement is acknowledged for having the most social protests and online campaigns. ENGOs embraced the victory of the 2017 designation of the CCPA and have recognized the environmental thrust in this declaration by the Jamaican government. However, as mining conversations are reignited, environmentalists chide the government of Jamaica for failing to gazette the boundary definition and subsequently entrenching these anti-mining protections into legislation. There remains contention between these two positions as some ENGOs and other civil society actors have embraced a definition rejected by the WRC and the Accompong Maroons. Nonetheless, in 2018, the Jamaica Environment Trust (JET), in partnership with Maroon and Cockpit community leaders and civil society, implemented the ‘Advancing the Protection of Jamaica’s Cockpit Country’ project (2018–19) which was geared towards continued advocacy in the CCPA boundary and the creation of buffer zones designed to prohibit mining/quarrying. The project demanded the more active involvement of local communities and civil society in environmental management and conservation planning. Additionally, JET increased social media campaigns of the movement, casting a 10-year-old student as the face/voice of its public service announcements. These videos were significant in delineating the movement’s educational components to provide the citizens of Jamaica and the diaspora with information about the perceived and real threats of the stagnation in protection policy vis-à-vis mining activities. 85

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Despite these efforts, in July 2019, as plans to allow mining outside of the Cockpit Country emerged in the media, stakeholders organized protests and called for the expansion of the protected areas. Members of the Southern Trelawny Environmental Agency, the Countrystyle Community Tourism Network, JET and Trelawny Cockpit residents employed civil disobedience to highlight the slow pace of protection measures and the failure to expand the boundaries as climate variability increased. The diaspora joined in the online campaign which resulted in social protests outside the United Nations (UN) headquarters in New York. According to Bailey (2019), the movement in New York was evidenced by two protests while Prime Minister Andrew Holness gave an address during the 74th session of the UN General Assembly. The second protest reconvened outside the Jamaican consulate in Manhattan, where environmentalists in the diaspora argued that the 2017 actions of the Prime Minister were inadequate. The bellicose protests were framed by placards campaigning for ‘Save Cockpit Country’, and chants for its protection. The ‘Save the Cockpit’ movement has evolved from its grassroots of the hinterland communities to the boardrooms and town halls of Kingston and New York. Furthermore, the hashtag ‘SavetheCockpit’ was created as a tool to track the movement in the digital space and lead information on advocacy and ecological benefits. Kuletz (2002) highlights that community-level activism is important to environmental justice, particularly when complemented by national and international support. The case of the Philippines is an pertinent example for island states and vulnerable people. According to Doyle (2005), Filipino religious leaders through their social capital have led environmental movements, resulting in their longevity and social presence. Interestingly, Maroon leaders in Jamaica fulfil a similar capacity. Maroon leaders often represent independent factions of the general population. Nonetheless, Doyle’s use of the sense of community and collective conscience as a paradigm for the Philippines’ response to external mining threats offers a holistic toolbox for Jamaicans. Moreover, indigenous peoples’ activism for autonomy and environmental justice is not often cited as the catalyst for these movements. Frequently, indigenous people are excluded from policy discussions and conservation plans. This troubling practice is a manifestation of the current capitalist exclusion of socio-historical legacies to justify mining and exploitative activities in undisturbed areas. Perrett (2017) argues that indigenous people are gatekeepers of knowledge and the practice of proper ecological management. Through an analysis of emic perspectives, Ulloa (2017) highlights that indigenous people across Latin America are using civil disobedience, social movements and protests to challenge proposals and policies shaped by social exclusion. Using community-level responses, indigenous people have demanded the right to meaningful participation, recognition and ‘historical reparation of their cultural, environmental, and legal misrecognition of their rights’ (Ulloa, 2017, p. 179). Maroon Cockpit communities have demanded similar liberties in an ethical resolution of conflict. Similarly, indigenous people in Latin America have demanded that governments allow natives to assume responsibility for protecting and nurturing all human and non-human lives on indigenous lands. The Accompong Maroons have employed this environmental justice approach; however, in the context of Jamaica the 1739 treaty is significant to the configurations. Maroon Cockpit communities assert that this responsibility is their pre-existing right, and importantly that this right predates the founding of the Jamaican state and its Constitution.

Class and party politics In 2019, social protests brought the controversy and discussions surrounding the Cockpit Country to the fore with the predominant theme in campaigns and advocacy framing the antimining and pro-conservation debate. Conversely, the September 2019 protests in urban 86

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Kingston illustrated the contention that exists between environmentalists and pro-mining social actors in the debate. However, prior to these tensions that resulted in protests a number of promining activists were identified as government officials. Since 2006, Cockpit Country debates have illuminated different philosophical positioning, interests of national environmentalists and transnational ‘mining’ capitalists. Explorations of lived realities have been primarily concerned with separationist Maroon communities and peoples. The September 2019 clash amplified the voice of Cockpit residents and mining employees who depend on this industry for their livelihoods. Bauxite miners and community members gathered outside the JET headquarters to challenge what they categorized as misinformation and propaganda. Thus, employees at Noranda Bauxite noted that sustainable approaches to mining were utilized by the company in adherence with guidelines and best practices stipulated by the government of Jamaica. Protesters close to the CCPA suggested that actions were geared towards changing the narrative of the ‘Save the Cockpit’ movement. JET diminished the technicalities of the mining licence citing a similar position to the WRC that the surrounding areas of the CCPA must be included in the zone. Nonetheless, the survivability of many rural Jamaican families is dependent on income from mining activities carried out in the vicinity of the Cockpit Country. The premise of pro-mining activists is the economic realities of working poor Jamaicans; consequently, it is important to note that bauxite miners consider themselves pro-environmental justice. This protest illustrated the philosophical differences between the two sides: the argument for sustainable mining approaches versus the rejection of all mining activities in and around the Cockpit Country. Jamaica’s sociopolitical context is vital to the responses and approaches geared to issues at all levels. Victory addiction and political tribalism have nurtured competitive politics where political campaigns extend beyond election periods. In dominant two-party political contexts, the politicization of significant issues is unavoidable. Bipartisan politicization of COVID-19 responses worldwide has demonstrated the consequences on human lives, particularly vulnerable people, when political actors sensationalize critical issues. These observations can establish the heightened risks for vulnerable people as political parties engage in superficial stand-offs in the climate crisis. Politicians and party supporters in Jamaica’s two major political parties have justified actions in the Cockpit debates by political dogma and ideologies. JLP supporters have taken to social media to argue that the current government has been the most active in policy and legislation created to protect the Cockpit Country. Former JLP Senator, Alando Terrelonge, has publicly supported this argument noting that the PNP has used scaremongering and political manipulation to undermine the sustainable approaches to mining near the Cockpit Country. Terrelonge noted that the government of Jamaica has prioritized environmental concerns without sacrificing economic benefits. Conversely, the PNP supporters have noted the JLP’s capitalist ideology is influencing their decision to support economic benefits to the detriment of the environment and local communities. The PNP has remained unwavering in its call for residents to protest against mining companies. Former Leader of the Opposition, Peter Phillips, demanded that the ruling party review the boundaries of the CCPA and engage the experiences and feelings of civil society and residents who feel excluded. The PNP signalled its commitment to leftist ideology through calls for nuanced actions that empower ordinary people. Nonetheless, the significance of environmental justice has been engulfed by party politics in the perpetual campaign for public favour and support. Consequently, the Cockpit controversy is laced with the tribalism of national politics. Social class politics in Jamaica has supported the bourgeoisification of environmental movements. According to Jaffe (2016, p. 108), the politics of ENGOs in Jamaica is rooted in class hierarchy and framed as elite or ‘uptown environmentalism’. Jaffe (2016) contends that the 87

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approach of these organizations is shaped by individualistic priorities associated with social positioning of primarily elite and middle-class membership. It is noteworthy that ENGOs at the centre of the movement are predominately white and Asian Jamaicans or expatriates. In Jamaica, elite environmentalism presents another layer of environmental problems, as it is a performance of environmental justice that often ignores the serious implications of vulnerable people directly affected. In the context of Jamaica (Lundy, 1999; Jaffe, 2016) and Curaçao (Jaffe, 2016) elite environmentalism is a phenomenon of the Caribbean elite. To illustrate the severity of these performances, Jaffe states, ‘on visiting an environmentalist meeting aimed at preventing mining activities in Jamaica’s Cockpit Country, a White Jamaican friend of mine joked that ‘if anyone wanted to get rid of Jamaica’s White population’, they could do so at these environmental meetings (Jaffe, 2016, p. 116). Afro-Jamaican leadership and active participation in ENGO activism are limited, and this is also observed in Curaçao (Jaffe, 2016). The literature suggests that capitalist economies have commodified environmental movements through tourist nature walks, hikes and merchandise. However, experiences of ENGO membership in the Philippines diverts from that of the Caribbean where, according to Doyle (2005, p. 52), ‘environmentalism is not particularly fashionable in the middle class’. For Filipinos, ENGOs and organizations for environmental justice are large movements of those disproportionately affected, poor people, working in conjunction with the political left (Broad and Cavanagh, 1994). Fundamentally, politicization of time-sensitive and critical policy areas will result in greater structural violence and disparity for the socioeconomically vulnerable citizens of the country, and this is the reality that SIDS must address.

Conclusion The Maroon community in the Cockpits has challenged neoliberal conversations around mining in Jamaica. The relationship between this group and the environment can be viewed as being mutually beneficial throughout history. Understanding the persistent role of the Maroons in advancing environmental justice is critical to interrogating the current discussions that have framed this issue. Exploring the ways that the Maroons have policed and protected the Cockpits through ideological warfare and social protests is well documented through their personal accounts and in the media. It is evident that the Maroons remain committed to fighting imperialism with any tool necessary. The threats being posed to the Cockpit Country signify the reconfigurations of capitalism and neocolonialism that has continued to anger the Maroons, as well as other Afro-Jamaican groups. The claims of land and sovereignty by the Maroons expand beyond the parameters of environmental justice. Fundamentally, in this context the argument against mining is equally the quest for autonomy, identity and the rights of citizenship. Moreover, social movements and civil society have supported and amplified the voices of those citizens most affected by the mining activities. Through social protests, advocacy, technical support and research the ‘Save the Cockpits’ movement has received international attention. The use of social and mass media to caption and record the movement has allowed social actors and activists to track the movement and monitor its evolution. Social movements and civil society in general are particularly important in small states with competitive democracies. The obsession with victory and political dominance makes political parties and governments vulnerable to public opinion. Parties generally respond positively to social movement protests in the hope of winning votes and public confidence. The progress made in advancing a boundary definition and protected area hinges on the persistent actions of social movements. 88

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The two dominant political parties in Jamaica have used their individual histories on the issue, ideology and promises to optimize success in general elections. The need for political points has made this climate/land debate a point of rivalry between the two political tribes. The issue has been further politicized as the Maroon community and the government of Jamaica spar over claims of sovereignty. The Cockpit Country controversy and subsequent debates highlight the importance of ordinary people in public politics. Citizens play a significant role in brokering the tenets of good governance. CSOs play a vital role in promoting and preserving the rights of marginalized communities. This reality has been demonstrated in the necessary work to safeguard Maroon heritage and environmental justice. Through social movements and civil society critical discussions, this issue has also received international attention and policy responses. The activism of expatriates and middle- to upper-class Jamaicans has undermined the ethos of social movements and environmentalism as their approach is informed by capitalistic models, which vulnerable communities seek to challenge. Advocacy performativity and politicization will present several systemic obstacles in transition to sustainable economic and environmental models that recognize the severity of the climate crisis and the socio-historical legacy of the Cockpits. Critical consideration must be employed to challenge dominant social structures geared towards replicating politicisation and class biases. Fundamentally, these debates reflect the complex intersection of violence. It is therefore important that citizens’ voices are magnified in these debates to mitigate the endemic exclusion and disparity created by partisan and class politics. As the discussions on land, mining and boundaries in the Cockpits continue, social movements, ENGOs, CSOs and citizens will continue to push for greater involvement and direction. The history, legacy and debates that surround the karst cockpits suggest that the government of Jamaica must find a compromise between environmental protection and economic profits.

Notes 1 Maroons are described as enslaved Africans and people with obvious African ancestry who escaped from their colonial masters to obtain and maintain their independence (see National Library of Jamaica, 2020). 2 See www.cockpitcountry.com/birdsChecklist.html. 3 The Cimarrones were runaway slaves living together as outlaws. 4 This proposal was made directly to former Prime Minister P. J. Patterson of the People’s National Party (for a detailed outline of the proposal see Eyre, 1995, p. 268). 5 The Cockpit Country was called the ‘Cockpits’ by British soldiers in the 17th century owing to its resemblance to a series of cockfighting pits. 6 http://go-jamaica.com/pages/cockpit/files/assets/basic-html/page-8.html. 7 See the link for the ANN website (https://accompong.news/). 8 Ross was the management judge at the Eastern Caribbean Supreme Court in 2007. 9 See http://m.jamaica-gleaner.com/gleaner/20061020/lead/lead3.php.

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Girvan, N. (2012). Social Movements Confront Neoliberalism: Reflections on a Caribbean Experience. Globalizations, 9(6), 753–766. https://doi.org/10.1080/14747731.2012.739350. Gowdy, J. M., and McDaniel, C. N. (1999). The Physical Destruction of Nauru: An Example of Weak Sustainability. Land Economics, 75(2), 333. https://doi.org/10.2307/3147015. Granner, M. L., Sharpe, P. A., Burroughs, E. L., Fields, R., and Hallenbeck, J. (2009). Newspaper Content Analysis in Evaluation of a Community-Based Participatory Project to Increase Physical Activity. Health Education Research, 25(4), 656–667. https://doi.org/10.1093/her/cyp049. Gray, O. (1991). Radicalism and Social Change in Jamaica, 1960–1972. University of Tennessee Press. Gray, O. (2004). Demeaned but Empowered: The Social Power of the Urban Poor in Jamaica. University of West Indies Press. Greer, C. (1997). Ideology as Response: Cultural and Political Process in the Sanctuary Movement. Social Thought and Research, 20(1–2), 108–128. https://doi.org/10.17161/str.1808.5145. Hallsworth, S. (1994). Understanding New Social Movements. Sociology Review, 40(1), 7–10. Heileman, S. (2005). Caribbean Environment Outlook. UNEP, CARICOM and University of the West Indies. Housen, C. (2007, January 13). Carib Judge Willing to Aid Maroons in Cockpit Resistance. The Jamaica Gleaner. https://old.jamaica-gleaner.com/gleaner/20070113/news/news1.html. Jaffe, R. (2016). Concrete Jungles: Urban Pollution and the Politics of Difference in the Caribbean. Oxford University Press. Jamaica Bauxite Institute (2021). Industry: Bauxite & Aluminum. https://jbi.org.jm/industry/. Jamaica Environmental Entrepreneurs’ Advocacy Network (2008). Cockpit Country Stakeholders’ Group (CCSG) Press Release. 7 April. www.jamaicancaves.org/press_release_cockpit_country_080407.htm. Jamaica National Heritage Trust (2016). Accompong. www.jnht.com/site_accompong.php. Jasper, J. M. (2007). Social Movements. In G. Ritzer (Ed.), The Blackwell Encyclopedia of Sociology (pp. 4451–4459). Blackwell Publishing. http://philosociology.com/UPLOADS/_PHILOSOCIOLOGY. ir_Blackwell%20Encyclopedia%20of%20Sociology_George%20Ritzer.pdf. Johnson-Myers, T. (2019). Negative Media Frames and Female Politicians: A Case Study of Jamaica’s First Female Prime Minister, Portia Simpson-Miller. Social Politics: International Studies in Gender, State & Society, 28(1), 193–214. https://doi.org/10.1093/sp/jxz043. Khan, S., Combaz, E., and McAlsan Fraser, E. (2015, August 28). Social Exclusion: Topic Guide. GSDRC, University of Birmingham. https://gsdrc.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/SocialExclusion.pdf. Kuletz, V. (2002). The Movement for Environmental Justice in Pacific Islands. In J. Adamson, M. M. Evans, and R. Stein (Eds), The Environmental Justice Reader: Politics, Poetics, & Pedagogy (pp. 125–142). University of Arizona Press. Linton, L. (2019). Minerals Sector Contributes 2.7 per cent to GDP. Jamaica Information Service, 22 November.https://jis.gov.jm/minerals-sector-contributes-2-7-per-cent-to-gdp/. Louis, W. R., and Montiel, C. J. (2018). Social Movements and Social Transformation: Steps towards Understanding the Challenges and Breakthroughs of Social Change. Peace and Conflict: Journal of Peace Psychology, 24(1), 3–9. https://doi.org/10.1037/pac0000309. Lundy, P. (1999). Fragmented Community Action or New Social Movement? International Sociology, 14 (1), 83–102. https://doi.org/10.1177/0268580999014001005. Lyew-Ayee, P. (2005). Redrawing the Boundaries of the Cockpit Country, Jamaica. Caribbean Geography, 14(2), 102–115. https://monagis.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/redrawing-the-boundaries-of-thecockpit-country-jamaica.pdf. Lyew-Ayee, P. (2010). The Cockpit Country of Jamaica: An Island Within an Island. In P. Migon and C. Burns (Eds), Geomorphological Landscapes of the World (pp. 69–77). Springer Science & Business Media. Madlingozi, T. (2007). Post-apartheid Social Movements and the quest for the Elusive ‘New’ South Africa. Journal of Law and Society, 34(1), 77–98. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-6478.2007.00383.x. Meyer, D. S., Whittier, N., and Robnett, B. (2002). Social Movements: Identity, Culture, and the State. Oxford University Press. Miller, D. J. (2003). Karst Geomorphology of the White Limestone Group. In S. K. Donovan (Ed.), The Mid-Cainozoic White Limestone Group of Jamaica (pp. 189–219). Backhuys Biological Books. Mittelman, J. H. (2000). The Globalization Syndrome: Transformation and Resistance. Princeton University Press. National Library of Jamaica (2020). The Jamaican Maroons. www.nlj.gov.jm/history-notes/The%20Ma roons%20edited%20final.htm. Newey, I. (2016). What Is the Importance of Reggae Music to Jamaican Social Cohesion, Nationalism, and Identity. Journal of Political Science and Sociology, 3, 57–69. www.nihiladdendum.com/wp-content/ uploads/2017/01/NihilAddendum_3teAusgabe.pdf#page=70.

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Jordan K. Williams Okubo, M. (2020). The Revitalization of Jamaica’s Mining Sector. www.japantimes.co.jp/country-report/ 2020/01/09/global-insight/jamaica-report-2020/revitalization-jamaicas-mining-sector/. Pearson, R. (1957). The Jamaica Bauxite Industry. Journal of Geography, 56(8), 377–385. https://doi.org/ 10.1080/00221345708983174. Pelling, M., and Uitto, J. I. (2001). Small Island Developing States: Natural Disaster Vulnerability and Global Change. Environmental Hazards, 3(2), 49–62. https://doi.org/10.3763/ehaz.2001.0306. Perrett, R. W. (2017). Indigenous Rights and Environmental Justice. Indigenous Rights, 487–501. https:// doi.org/10.4324/9781315252391-14. Phillie, J. (2002). ‘I Light and I Salvation’: The Rise and Impact of Rastafarianism in Jamaican Culture and Politics. https://debate.uvm.edu/dreadlibrary/philie02.htm. Phillips, P. (1988). Race, Class, Nationalism: A Perspective on Twentieth-Century Social Movements in Jamaica. Social and Economic Studies, 37(3), 97–124. www.jstor.org/stable/27862949. Powers, M. C., Willett, J., Mathias, J., and Hayward, A. (2018). Green Social Work for Environmental Justice: Implications for International Social Workers. In L. Dominelli, B. Hok-bun, and B. R. Nikku (Eds), The Routledge Handbook of Green Social Work (pp. 74–84). Routledge. Rao, C. S. (2012). Collective Behaviour and Social Movements. In Sociology: Principles of Sociology with an Introduction to Sociological Thought. S. Chand Publishing. Rootes, C., and Nulman, E. (2015). The Impacts of Environmental Movements. In D. D. Porta and M. Diani (Eds), The Oxford Handbook of Social Movements (pp. 729–743). Oxford University Press. https:// doi.org/10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199678402.013.61. Senior, O. (2003). Encyclopedia of Jamaican Heritage. Twin Guinep. Sherlock, P., and Bennett, H. (1998). The Story of the Jamaican people. Ian Randle Publishers. Sivapragasam, M. (2018). After the Treaties: A Social, Economic and Demographic History of Maroon Society in Jamaica, 1739–1842. Doctoral dissertation, University of Southampton. https://eprints.soton.ac.uk/ 423482/1/LIBRARY_COPY_After_The_Treaties_Final.pdf. Sprague, J. (2015). From International to Transnational Mining: The Industry’s Shifting Political Economy and the Caribbean. Caribbean Studies, 43(1), 73–112. www.redalyc.org/pdf/392/39244650002.pdf. Sweeting, M. M. (1958). The Karstlands of Jamaica. The Geographical Journal, 124(2), 184. https://doi.org/ 10.2307/1790245. Sweeting, M. M. (1972). Karst Landforms. Columbia University Press. Tarrow, S. G. (2011). Power in Movement: Social Movements and Contentious Politics. Cambridge University Press. Thompson, K. (2013). ‘We Will Pay to Save COCKPIT Country’. The Jamaica Observer, 11 September. www.jamaicaobserver.com/environment/-We-will-pay-to-save-COCKPIT-Country-. Tilly, C., and Wood, L. J. (2019). Social Movements as Politics. In C. Tilly, L. J. Wood, and E. Castañeda (Eds), Social Movements, 1768–2004 (4th edn, pp. 3–17). Routledge. Ulloa, A. (2017). Perspectives of Environmental Justice from Indigenous Peoples of Latin America: A Relational Indigenous Environmental Justice. Environmental Justice, 10(6), 175–180. https://doi.org/10. 1089/env.2017.0017. Webber, D., and Noel, C. (2013). Public Consultations of Defining the Boundaries of the Cockpit Country. National Environment & Planning Agency. https://websitearchive2020.nepa.gov.jm/new/services_p roducts/publications/Cockpit_Country_Boundary_Consultation_Report_2013.pdf. Windsor Research Centre (WRC) (2014). Cockpit Geomorphology. www.cockpitcountry.com/cockpits.html. Winks, R. W. (1997). The Blacks in Canada: A History (2nd edn). McGill-Queen’s University Press. World Bank (2020). The World Bank in Jamaica. 13 April. www.worldbank.org/en/country/jamaica/over view#1. Yadav, A. K. (2016). Social Movements, Social Problems and Social Change. Academic Voices: A Multidisciplinary Journal, 5, 1–4. https://doi.org/10.3126/av.v5i0.15842.

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6 Deep-sea mining in Pacific small island developing states The role of civil society organizations Viliame Kasanawaqa, Asinate Namuaira and Solo Mara

Introduction The chapter focuses on the role of civil society organizations (CSOs) in Pacific small island developing states (PSIDS) in their advocacy for a global ban on deep-sea mining (DSM). The PSIDS referred to in this chapter are the island states of the Republic of Fiji, the Federated States of Micronesia, Kiribati, Nauru, the Republic of the Marshall Islands, the Republic of Palau, Papua New Guinea (PNG), Samoa, the Solomon Islands, Tonga, Tuvalu and Vanuatu. DSM companies are rapidly expanding their exploration activities for commercial ocean mining, with the Pacific viewed as the frontier. In March 2021, the Pacific Network on Globalization (PANG), the Pacific Conference of Churches (PCC), the Pacific Islands Association of NGOS (PIANGO), the World Wide Fund for Nature Pacific (WWF), and Development Alternatives with Women for a New Era (DAWN) issued a statement calling on Pacific island leaders to join the growing ranks of governments, scientific authorities, CSOs, churches, global leaders, and indigenous groups and communities who are calling for a total ban on DSM within their territorial waters and in areas beyond their national jurisdiction (PANG, 2021). Since the issuing of the Pacific Blue Line Declaration several supporters, including Pacific governments, such as that of Tuvalu and elected people’s representatives, such as members of parliament and the leader of the opposition party in Vanuatu have now joined the movement calling for a global ban on DSM. However, a number of Pacific governments, including those of the Cook Islands and Nauru, have expressed support for exploration activities. Economic strains caused by the COVID-19 pandemic have highlighted the need for PSIDS to diversify their economies. The Nauru government’s decision to activate a clause in a 1994 Agreement on Implementing Part XI of the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) marked the beginning of a process that could lead to widespread seabed mining by 2023 (Blades, 2021). The chapter addresses the question why DSM is a major issue for the Pacific region, and what precisely is the role of CSOs in opposing DSM in the region. The chapter also looks at two other social movements in the Pacific and how collective diplomacy in the region in those

DOI: 10.4324/9781003341536-8

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cases resulted in PSIDS adopting common positions and amplifying their voices in international fora, resulting in their greatest international successes. It also investigates the current schism that exists between the PSIDS on the subject of DSM, as well as how and why the CSO movement is calling for a total ban The research is based on a desk study comprising an examination of peer-reviewed and grey literature supplemented by information retrieved from the internet pertaining to the Pacific Regional Civil Society Group,1 the International Seabed Authority (ISA),2 DSM companies, development agencies and Pacific island governments. The chapter is organized in six sections. The section that follows presents background information to set the context of the research. This is followed by a literature review. The next section explains the methodology used to respond to the research questions set in this introductory section, which is followed by a discussion on the results, derived from the responses to these questions. The concluding chapter draws a number of implications from the results.

Background: deep-sea mining in the Pacific context For many decades, regionalism has been an important development strategy in the Pacific, with the oldest regional organization, the Pacific Community, being established over 70 years ago. The concept of regionalism stems from the belief that by pooling resources at the regional level, Pacific island countries can receive development assistance at a lower cost. This has progressed to a certain point (PIDF, 2015). Previously, members of the Council of Regional Organizations in the Pacific (CROP) organizations in the Pacific sought to develop legal frameworks and policy guidelines to promote DSM of key minerals in the vast exclusive economic zones (EEZs) of Pacific island governments. Regional institutions were already giving the mining sector legitimacy through a project funded by the European Union (EU) in the geoscience division of the Secretariat of the Pacific Community (SPC; formerly known as the South Pacific Applied Geosciences Commission – SOPAC). The CROP debate is focused on how to facilitate seabed mining rather than whether it should be supported. The Oceans Declaration signed by Pacific Islands Forum (PIF) leaders in Palau in 2014 supports the EU-SOPAC DSM project rationale. It has given the industry political legitimacy to plunder the ocean floor of its wealth by cleverly undermining any efforts to regulate an untried and untested industry. The Pacific CSOs have been challenging the policy interpretations of the PIF-mandated EU-SPC DSM project on this issue (Penjueli, 2017). The SPC-EU DSM project developed the Regional Legislative and Regulatory Framework for Deep Sea Mineral Exploration and Exploitation only one year after its inception. The Framework was created without any meaningful input from Pacific island country (PIC) governments or their citizens. Next, the SPC-EU DSM project funded a dedicated legal team to assist PICs in developing national policy and legislation (Penjueli, 2017). The enactment of several new seabed mineral laws in the PICs soon followed including the Fiji International Seabed Mineral Management Decree (2013), the Tonga Seabed Minerals Act (2014), the Tuvalu Seabed Minerals Act (2014) and the Nauru International Seabed Minerals Act (2015). The EU-SPC DSM project ended in 2016. Support for DSM in the Pacific is based on the argument that it will secure long-term economic growth. Debates on the non-sustainability of economic growth based on standard growth principles have resurfaced in various regions following the publication of the Club of Rome Report (Meadows et al., 1972). This appeared after the Brundtland report (World Commission on Environment and Development, 1987), the 1992 UN Conference on Environment and Development also known as the Earth Summit (Schulz and Bailey, 2014), and the most 94

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important international agreements of recent years (the SIDS Accelerated Modalities of Action Pathway, or SAMOA Pathway, the Sendai Framework for Disaster Risk Reduction, the Paris Climate Agreement/COP21 and the Habitat III New Urban Agenda), as well as the UN Sustainable Development Goals – SDGs). The debates have continued and have again gained considerable traction following the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020. A green recovery pathway is an emerging theme in plans to rebuild the economies of PSIDS (Foley et al., 2022) and of the global community post-pandemic. This pathway is centred on the green economy (Asian Development Bank, 2018). However, despite the optimism associated with green recovery, little is known about how it will be realized in different countries, and how politics and power will shape recovery efforts in different economies. An example demonstrated recently in the Pacific in terms of the management of natural resources was the Parties to the Nauru Agreement (PNA)3 demonstrating that PICs are perfectly capable of seizing control and successfully managing their resources (as well as their relations with one another and with outside powers) on their own (Tilot et al., 2021). It demonstrated that donors and aid organizations were not required to direct, mediate or fund them. Furthermore, as the then CEO of the PNA strongly argued, countries from outside the Pacific islands should not play a role in central strategic discussions about the use of the region’s natural resources because their presence is divisive and untrustworthy (Tarte, 2017). The divisive presence is clearly seen in the case of the DSM scenario and very little discussion has been held on what alternatives might exist. According to Gibson-Graham and Roelvink (2011), the task of finding economic alternatives is to explore possibilities in order to facilitate ethical debates on more environmentally conscious and socially responsible economic practices. The future of growth, as well as the methods used to assess progress in the green recovery postpandemic, is a prime example of these ethical debates, and an important focus for future explorations of economic diversity in the Pacific region. The Sixth Assessment Report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) was released in mid-2021 and reinforces the fact that anthropogenic global warming has led to a longterm increase in the average temperature of the Earth’s atmosphere as an effect of human industry and agriculture. Climate change is ubiquitous, rapid and intensifying, and is impacting all the regions of the globe, as well as the ocean waters. Extreme heat, excessive rainfall, dry spells and tropical cyclones are among the weather and climate changes that have become noticeably more common and more severe (IPCC, 2021). Rising sea levels and coastal erosion are likely to usher in a myriad of problems for PSIDS. With land being lost through rising sea levels and its EEZs being placed at risk, maritime boundaries which are critical for national security and ocean resource management could be shifted for national interests leading to disputes (Kumar, 2020). Measures effected since the 1990s to reduce poverty levels have been severely negated. The PICs are in search of a ‘big push’ to reverse this trend and put them on the path to a green recovery. According to the big push theory, anything that encourages demand is capable of pushing individuals out of the poverty trap, such as massive public expenditure programmes, foreign donor assistance, mineral discoveries and increases in the global prices of natural resources (Sachs and Warner, 1999). The discovery of rich metal deposits (polymetallic nodules, rare earths, metal-rich muds, cobalt-rich ferro-manganese crusts and hydrosulphide deposits) on the deep seabed in PSIDS (Hein and Koschinsky, 2014) has sparked business interest from all over the world, as seabed mineral extraction is increasingly regarded as a suitable alternative to land-based mining and may be required to meet the increasing demand for metals in the global shift to renewable energy (Havice and Zalik, 2018). Pollution, plastics, overfishing and climate change are all putting pressure on the world’s ocean ecosystems. The ambitions of seabed mining companies will significantly exacerbate 95

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these environmental stressors. As a result, civil society, non-governmental organizations (NGOs), fisheries, tourism operators, scientists and governmental bodies all over the world are calling for a moratorium on DSM (Tilot et al., 2021).

Literature review Social movements in the Pacific region Historically, social movements supported by CSOs have played an important role in the struggle for the right to self-determination and the pursuit of the region’s own development goals in the Pacific. From the 1970s to the 1990s, there was often political solidarity between Pacific island governments and CSOs, even when external interests were clearly detrimental to the region’s interests (Penjueli, 2015). The PSIDS’ greatest international successes have been achieved through the pursuit of collective diplomacy, in which social movements and states have collaborated to hold foreign governments accountable in order to achieve significant victories. These include UNCLOS, the Convention on the Prevention of Marine Pollution by Dumping of Wastes and Other Matter 1972, commonly called the London Convention, the Nuclear Free and Independent Pacific (NFIP) movement, which is advancing efforts to secure the entire Blue Pacific as a nuclear free zone, a ban on driftnet fishing, and scaling up the Paris Agreement’s goal to limit global warming to well below 2, preferably to 1.5 degrees Celsius. Much of this success would not have occurred if CSOs had not provided support (or even led), provided technical knowledge, outlined moral obligations and leveraged their networks, communication and advocacy skills. Perhaps most importantly, CSOs frequently provided legitimacy to regional institutions in the PSIDS by establishing direct links to social movements and their issues of concern (Penjueli, 2015).

The types and roles of social movements Social movements, of diverse origins, structures and goals, have a long history in human societies. Social movements have been described as collective behaviour which disrupts the norms of society (Blumer, 1958). According to Cohen and Kennedy (2000, p. 287) , they are ‘agencies of social transformation that emerge in response to certain social changes and conditions’, while Castells (1978, p. 93) calls them ‘bodies of social exercises that challenge the institutionally dominant social logic’. The creed of a social movement is often derived from or inspired by earlier ideas and ideals but is organized to fulfil the vision and demands of present times. Many different types of people participate in social movements: those who join out of belief, those that want to take part in a community and begin a new way of doing things, as well as those who participate in order to benefit from such participation, such as pride when such the group’s goals are accomplished (Cohen and Kennedy, 2000). It has been observed by social scientists that social movements and NGOs in the south tend to work more for the attainment of human rights in deprived areas. Northern movements, on the other hand, tend to be more concerned with environmental issues. According to Cohen and Kennedy (2000), there are three features of contemporary social movements:



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They make no attempt to gain political power. As a result, they do not need to organize themselves rigidly in the same way that other formal groups and institutions do. By posing new ways of thinking, liberal groups attempt to convince society that their viewpoint is beneficial. They also want to encourage major corporations to alter their

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plans. Their acts are meant to reveal information that the government or the media are striving to keep hidden. People involved in social movements are usually erudite and knowledgeable about current events in order to effectively criticize the government and propose alternative solutions.

Global interconnections Due to advances in information and communication technologies during the past decade, there is now an interconnected global community. Social movements now have greater opportunities to operate on a global scale. Different movements in different countries can communicate with one another, share information about their work, and the ideas and values that underpin their work can be expressed in more than one country (Van de Donk et al., 2004). This interconnectivity enables social movements to address transboundary issues such as environmental degradation, drug trafficking, human trafficking, biodiversity loss, ocean pollution and climate change. The development of novel aspects of global governance beyond national government responsibility helps to mitigate the decline in nation-state regulatory capability. International organizations, NGOs and the private sector have begun to freely provide know-how and means to plug the gaps in global regulation and solve global public goods problems, either collaboratively or independently of state agencies (Scherer and Palazzo, 2011).

Social movements and politics in the Pacific? Contemporary social movements have strong ties to politics because their goal is to change the status quo; their targets are politicians, government officials and policymakers. CSOs in PSIDS have often launched or led regional dialogues on important issues. For example, the NFIP movement advocated for a nuclear-free zone years before PICs signed the Rarotonga Treaty, which established the South Pacific Nuclear Free Zone. The Malua Conference of Churches and Missions, held in Samoa in 1961, resulted in the formation of the PCC, the region’s largest ecumenical organization, in 1966 (Penjueli, 2015). The Committee Against Tests on Moruroa (ATOM) was founded in 1970 in Suva, Fiji, to protest against nuclear testing in the Pacific. Its members included the Pacific Theological College, the University of the South Pacific, and the Fiji YWCA. In 1975, the PCC was the primary sponsor of ATOM’s first Nuclear Free Pacific conference in Suva. The NFIP movement gained traction after conferences held in Pohnpei in 1978, Hawai’i in 1980 and Vanuatu in 1983 (Firth, 1987, p. 133).

Social movements and climate justice Social movements have been visibly active in matters relating to climate change, globally and in the Pacific region. Climate change in the context of this chapter refers to anthropogenicinduced climate change that has been caused by increased greenhouse gas emissions. From 1970, climate change began to emerge as a public concern within the context of the environment movement. Climate change and rising sea levels started to imperil many small island states, including those located in the Pacific, undermining their sustainable development (UN, 2014). In many small island states climate change vulnerability is heightened due to their relatively small landmass, the concentration of their populations, infrastructure, and economic activities around the coastal regions, their high reliance on marine ecosystems for their food and source of income, and their vulnerability to extreme weather events (Briguglio, 1995). 97

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PSIDS have already started to take steps to integrate the most important international agreements in recent years (the SIDS Accelerated Modalities of Action (SAMOA) Pathway, the Sendai Framework for Disaster Risk Reduction, the SDGs, and the Paris Climate Agreement/ COP21) into their national development plans and legislation, and mapping institutional responsibilities (Pacific Community, 2016). On 5 September 2013, at the Pacific Islands Forum Meeting in the Marshall Islands, leaders of the PIF nations adopted the Majuro Declaration for Climate Leadership (Hauger, 2015). The Declaration emphasizes the Pacific’s political commitment to becoming a Climate Leaders region, as well as its efforts to ignite a ‘new wave of climate leadership’ that will help to accelerate the reduction and phasing down of greenhouse gas emissions worldwide. It is also the agreement of its kind to encourage commitments from governments as well as non-state actors such as cities, businesses and other organizations, and it is intended to supplement and build momentum under the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) at a critical juncture (Hauger, 2015). The regional Pacific meeting in Suva in 2015 brought together Pacific governments, civil society and the private sector to discuss a collaborative approach to addressing climate change. It was clear that the right of civil society and other non-party stakeholders to participate was critical to achieving a stronger and more ambitious outcome. The meeting resulted in the Suva Declaration on Climate Change, a clarion call by PSIDS expressing deep concern about the irreversible loss and damage, human rights violations, suffering, and other negative effects of climate change affecting islands and their peoples, while highlighting actions that countries should take, particularly under the UNFCCC, to mitigate and combat climate change’s negative effects. In particular, the Pacific urged states parties to the UNFCCC to impose moratoria on the use of fossil fuels, particularly coal mining (PIDF, 2015). Meanwhile, the Pacific countries, led by the Marshall Islands (Brun, 2016), formed the High Ambition Coalition in the run-up to the Paris Agreement in 2015, assisting in securing key elements of the agreement, such as the 1.5 degrees Celsius temperature goal, the net-zero emissions pathway by the second half of the 21st century, and a five-year cycle for updating mitigation contributions (Ourbak and Magnan, 2018). The Paris Agreement’s targets effectively rule out new fossil fuel extraction projects. The campaign for No New Fossil Fuels is nothing more than a reaffirmation of the Paris Agreement promises in actionable terms. The PSIDS continue to advocate for the prohibition of new fossil fuels in all jurisdictions, mechanisms, and bodies (Mallam, 2019). Similarly to their earlier successful fight against the nuclear threat, Pacific states have begun to set the guidelines, parameters and precedents for the future of fossil fuels across all relevant policy areas, until it becomes blanketed international law. In the run-up to COP 26 in 2021, the government of Vanuatu, as the Pacific region’s leader on the issue of loss and damage, pushed for an advisory opinion from the International Court of Justice on human rights and the obligations on states to protect people from the effects of climate change.

Methodology In order to address the aims of this study a number of steps were taken. This included an examination of peer-reviewed and grey literature supplemented by information retrieved from the internet pertaining to the Pacific Regional Civil Society Group and the ISA. DSM companies were identified as were the relevant development agencies and Pacific island governments involved in DSM. The results were analysed and areas for potential further study highlighted. A literature search of research articles relating to ‘Deep Sea Mining’, ‘Civil Society Organization’, ‘Small Island States’, ‘Pacific Islands’, and other related search terms was conducted 98

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using Google Scholar. This search revealed a limited but emerging field of scholarly research into DSM in the Pacific, much of which included discussion of the role of civil society in communicating the issues of DSM to vulnerable indigenous communities in PSIDS. The qualitative methods employed in this study included a series of five semi-structured in-depth interviews as well as participant observation at a number of CSO events on DSM. The grey literature consulted in the research proved to be an excellent source of recent information about DSM in the Pacific, and was more up-to-date than that found in the scholarly publications. The research also involved scanning the internet for details about the work of several CSOs which are part of the Pacific Regional Civil Society Group, with several having documented and published their recent work online regarding the movement to ban DSM. In addition, the authors consulted online sources regarding the work of ISA, as it has recently embarked on a communication effort to demystify DSM. Work on the development of the Regional Legislative and Regulatory Framework for Deep Sea Mineral Exploration and Exploitation, the EU-SPC DSM project that ended in 2016, was also consulted, while the SPC, the PIF and Pacific governments were identified as credible sources of information about DSM.

Research results This section seeks to respond to the research questions outlined in the introductory section. DSM has become a major point of contention in the region, given the growing demand for renewable energy and the advances in renewable energy technologies that contribute to lowering carbon emissions. This unprecedented demand has ushered in a boom in DSM, which once was viewed as a fringe high-risk venture that has now become a lucrative opportunity for transnational corporations Thus far, the South Pacific nations that have sponsored exploration initiatives both within their own EEZs and in the Clarion-Clipperton Zone are Nauru, the Cook Islands, Kiribati and Tonga. DSM has been hailed as a lucrative business opportunity, particularly for SIDs whose economies are heavily reliant on tourism. Many national governments are struggling to provide employment as a result of the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic, and have implemented austerity measures to cushion economic shocks. As transnational corporations seek to take advantage of the uncertain economic climate to push their agendas, the pressure to grant DSM licences has increased. CSOs in the Pacific continue to lead the regional debates on longstanding and emerging issues that affect the region, promoting self-determination and decolonization, economic justice, climate justice, and opposing DSM (Penjueli, 2015). The launch of the Pacific Blue Line campaign against DSM in March 2021, was the joint initiative of PANG, PCC, PIANGO, DAWN, WWF and the Tuvalu Climate Action Network. The movement against DSM sees the collective call by Pacific CSOs as follows:




calls for recognition that, as our common heritage, the ocean demands our common responsibility for its protection; calls on all Pacific leaders to join the growing ranks of governments, scientific authorities, CSOs, global leaders, Church leaders and indigenous groups the world over in opposing the rush to mine the ocean floor and, in doing so, destroy our common heritage; and welcomes the stand taken by some Pacific governments for a moratorium on DSM within their exclusive economic zones (EEZs) but strongly urges all of our governments to champion the need to protect the ocean beyond our EEZs.(PANG, 2021) 99

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To better understand the reasons as to why the above-mentioned NGOs are involved in matters relating to DSM, first one has to understand the core values which those respective NGOs are founded upon. In fully comprehending such information, without any sense of bias, one can then look at the premise upon which the respective NGOs have taken a position with regards to DSM. PANG is a platform that emboldens Pacific peoples’ right to self-determination with regard to issues such as economics, politics and social movements. Given the current narrative that DSM will have ‘little to no impact and significant benefits’, the financial difficulties inflicted by climate change and the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic will definitely sway some PSIDS into accepting DSM as a form of financial relief (Wadsworth, 2022). PANG’s involvement in DSM represents the voices or notion of a wide and diverse range of Pacific civil society, who are usually or deliberately left out of discussions and policy development. Given the infant nature of the DSM industry, PANG (2021) aims to ensure that the ‘Pacific Ocean is not handed over or ceded to external interests’. Formed in 1966, the PCC is a member of the World Council of Churches that stands for unity, justice and peace worldwide especially on creation-life, and is the region’s largest ecumenical organization (Penjueli, 2015) The PCC’s ninth general assembly in 2007 brought about six main programmes that the churches are focusing on, one of which is environment and climate change. The churches, through the PCC, are leading an effort to resolve the ‘ecological crisis’ facing Pacific islands especially their indigenous populations. With partners from CSOs and academic institutions such as the University of the South Pacific, it is building the foundations of an Ecological Framework for Development that will guide its engagements with its members and offer governments alternatives on development. The PCC member churches are emphatic in their view that regional governments should take no further action until empirical proof is available regarding the impact of deep-sea mining and exploration. PIANGO firmly believes in a collective partnership of Pacific civil societies (national liaison units) in addressing issues that impact PSIDS. It has, over the years, continually strengthened the regional networking of NGOs that primarily empower communities, address leader deficits and develop next generation leaders. On the matter of DSM, the organization has clearly indicated the need to ban DSM in the Pacific. In a statement, Emaline Siale Ilolahia, executive director of PIANGO, said On the issue of DSM, the Pacific must look inward and rally Pacific Leaders to listen to our people. We do not want our ocean mined. Leaders have a moral obligation to ensure the survival of our children, and the livelihoods of our Pacific people are safeguarded. They must ban DSM in the Pacific. (PANG, 2021) In 2016, the organization embarked on a capacity building project for Pacific CSOs. The programme had two main goals: first, to invest in PIANGO and other Pacific NGO partners to help to increase their capacities and competencies in communicating, interacting and cooperating at the national level for various PSIDS members. Second, to develop a robust pool of Pacific-based local experts to provide ongoing technical capacity building support to Pacific CSOs. Such capacity building projects can create a form of structure and networking throughout the Pacific to enable CSOs to rally together in a bid to ban DSM. WWF-Pacific is working to sustain the natural world for the benefit of people and nature. Since most of the organizations’ efforts are focused on marine life and ecosystems in the Pacific, it is inevitable that the organization will speak up and strongly oppose DSM. Some of the work 100

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it undertakes is the conservation of two flagship marine species – turtles and whales – and sustainable offshore fisheries. A report funded by WWF International that looked into the potential cost of DSM to Fiji is likely to be one of the most extensive pieces of work to address DSM thus far. Very briefly, the desktop study covers the science and technology used in the industry, the economic benefits, potential economic and ecosystem risks and costs of DSM. Although the study focused specifically on Fiji and not the Pacific as a whole, the stance the organization has recently taken was that it was not supporting DSM and for PSIDS to draw the blue line. Unlike the other NGOs, DAWN is a network of feminist scholars, researchers and activists that has the ability to provide an inclusivity approach to the matter of DSM in the Pacific. Most of the work it undertakes aims to provide support on women’s recognition within civil society in various key areas of social, economic and political relations from community level to regional and global level. More recently as the margins of ecological survival are shrinking particularly for impoverished communities, it emphasizes the need to pay greater attention to the health of the planet alongside human rights. The organization has been working on a movement to strengthen policy analysis and advocacy on gender, economic and ecological justice in the Pacific, Africa, Latin America and the Caribbean, and Asia until 2015. Although it does not directly address DSM, the project has brought together diverse people who are engaged in various spheres, especially ecological justice, in settings where people can raise the right questiosn and political challenges in an existing platform. In April 2022, as a result of significant lobbying by the Pacific Regional Civil Society Group, a high-level regional political group on DSM was launched, the Pacific Parliamentarian’s Alliance on Deep Sea Mining (PPADSM), that will advocate for the protection of the Pacific Ocean from exploitation. The launch of the regional group coincided with the seventh Our Ocean Conference, which was held in Palau (Ligaiula, 2022), and signalled a renewed effort towards collective diplomacy on the subject of DSM in the region. On the issue of DSM, the PSIDS do not share a common position. Nauru, Kiribati, Tonga, Tuvalu and the Cook Islands have approved licences for exploration in their waters. In keeping with the longstanding call of civil society to prioritize the health and values of Pacific communities, Fiji, supported by Vanuatu and PNG, proposed a 10-year moratorium on DSM from 2020 to 2030 at the Pacific Islands Forum on 14 August 2019, to allow for prudent research in marine areas under the national jurisdiction of Pacific nations (Doherty, 2019). In April 2022, the government of Tuvalu withdrew its support for deep-sea mining and exploration in the country’s waters. In December 2021, the government had sponsored the mining company Circular Metals Tuvalu in its application to the ISA for an exploration permit (Srinivasan, 2022). Promoters of seabed mining believe that mining seabed minerals will reduce demand for and have a lower social impact than terrestrial mining, will aid in the development of new greener technologies, and will provide economic benefits to those who participate in the mining ventures. Those opposed to seabed mining express concerns about the potential environmental effects of or from the activity, the resulting damage to other uses or users of the ocean, whether developing nations will really benefit from the mining venture, and whether it will, in fact, relieve pressure on terrestrial mining (McVeigh, 2021). In 2022, Maureen Penjueli of PANG stated in a webinar entitled ‘Ecological Racism and Deep-Sea Mining in the Pacific’ that the argument that DSM is ‘green’ is false since the consequences of harming the ocean could be disastrous (Wadsworth, 2022). According to Penjueli, the Pacific is frequently described as a world region that is underexplored and underutilized and moreover is also critical to launching the ‘blue economy’. She went on to say that DSM is 101

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framed as having little to no impact and enormous benefits, but that people are not considering the true costs of the proposed activity. For PNG resource extraction is a major source of GDP growth, and DSM used to be regarded as an attractive prospect. From 2011, grassroots opposition to DSM in PNG grew, with coastal communities even launching legal proceedings against the PNG government in 2017 to gain access to project documents (Doherty, 2019). Ralph Regenvanu, a member of Parliament and current leader of the opposition of Vanuatu who is spearheading the PPADSM, stated that the Pacific remains the most colonized region on the planet, and that in order to survive islands were shackled to the Western model of democratic nation-states. Regenvanu claims that because states are parasitic in nature and cannot survive without taxation or resource extraction, some Pacific leaders are making the decision to go down the DSM path (Wadsworth, 2022).

Conclusion CSOs are frequently viewed by governments as attempting to profit from popular sentiment on development issues that contradict official plans and strategies, such as DSM. In recent years, CSOs have demonstrated their ability to open and lead development debates, and they continue to do so, as evidenced by their recent call for a total ban on DSM. They are also leading discussions on alternatives, including one that can encourage stakeholders to reach a consensus on the call for the ban. However, what has not been extensively discussed is the opportunity cost consideration. The argument to win governments over and keep deep-sea minerals unmined must also include the subject of costs and compensation. Opponents of DSM argue that there are uncounted costs of DSM and also refer to the risks of transboundary harm, which would potentially mean having to pay compensation if sued. Such economic considerations are often absent from marine conservation planning argumentation The Pacific CSOs have employed the art of collective diplomacy to their success in recent efforts to keep with their longstanding call to prioritize the well-being and values of Pacific communities. Pacific CSOs continue to lead the debate on what a green recovery for the Pacific might look like post-pandemic, and whether or not DSM has a role to play in this. Against the backdrop of the launch of the PPADSM at the Our Ocean Conference in Palau, Tuvalu has reversed its position and now supports the call for a total ban on DSM. As CSOs in the region continue to lead discussions about an economically viable conservation approach, the discourse must also address who will be compensated, what the agreed mechanism of compensation might be, while the means of compensation must be formulated and implemented through an international standard of practice. Social movements will continue to be visibly active in matters relating to the ‘blue Pacific’ and from Pacific island civil society’s standpoint, engagement, involvement and inclusion of CSOs in spaces making decisions has been positive and the future looks bright in their efforts of drawing the blue line on the subject of DSM.

Notes 1 The Pacific Blue Line (www.pacificblueline.org). 2 International Seabed Authority (https://isa.org.jm/). 3 The parties to the Nauru Agreement (PNA) comprises a group of eight countries (the Federated States of Micronesia, Kiribati, the Marshall Islands, Nauru, Palau, PNG, the Solomon Islands and Tuvalu) that controls the largest tropical tuna fishery in the world. The Vessel Day Scheme has been described as a management measure that sets a limit on the number of days that purse seine vessels are allowed to fish in the waters of the PNA countries. The days are allocated to each party, who then charge fishing 102

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companies/vessels for each day they fish. Between 2010 and 2015, the income earned by PNA countries from fishing fees increased from US $64 million to $357 million (Tarte, 2017).

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Viliame Kasanawaqa, Asinate Namuaira and Solo Mara Environews, 30 March. https://pasifika.news/2021/03/deep-sea-mining-is-not-needed-not-wantednot-consented/ (accessed 21 January 2022). Penjueli, M. (2017). SDG 14 Ocean Governance for Sustainability. Reshaping, 167. Penjueli, M. (2015). Civil Society and the Political Legitimacy of Regional Institutions: An NGO Perspective. Diplomacy, 65. Sachs, J. D., and Warner, A. M. (1999). The Big Push, Natural Resource Booms and Growth. Journal of Development Economics, 59(1), 43–76. Scherer, A. G., and Palazzo, G. (2011). The New Political Role of Business in a Globalized World: A Review of a New Perspective on CSR and its Implications for the Firm, Governance, and Democracy. Journal of Management Studies, 48(4), 899–931. Schulz, C., and Bailey, I. (2014). The Green Economy and Post Growth Regimes: Opportunities and Challenges for Economic Geography. Geografiska Annaler, 96(3), 277–291. Secretariat of the Pacific Community (SPC) (2016). Framework for Resilient Development in the Pacific: An Integrated Approach to Address Climate Change and Disaster Risk Management. SPC. Srinivasan, P. (2022). Tuvalu Reverses Controversial Decision to Sponsor Seabed Mining. Pacific Beat ABC. www.abc.net.au/radio-australia/programs/pacificbeat/tuvalu-reverses-seabed-mining-sponsorshi p/13840364 (accessed 22 April 2022). Tarte, S. (2017). The Changing Paradigm of Pacific Regional Politics. The Round Table: The Commonwealth Journal of International Affairs, 135–142. Tilot, V., Willaert, K., Guilloux, B., Chen, W., Mulalap, C. Y., Gaulme, F., and Dahl, A. (2021). Traditional Dimensions of Seabed Resource Management in the Context of Deep Sea Mining in the Pacific: Learning from the Socio-ecological Interconnectivity. Frontiers in Marine Science, 8, 247. United Nations (2014). SIDs Accelerated Modalities for Action (SAMOA) Pathway. https://sustainabledeve lopment.un.org/sids/samoareview#outcomes (accessed 22 April 2022). Van de Donk, W., Loader, B. D., Nixon, P. G., and Rucht, D. (2004). Cyberprotest: New Media, Citizens and Social Movements. Routledge. Wadsworth, J. (2022). Ecological Racism and Deep Sea Mining in the Pacific. G20 Interfaith Forum, 22 February. https://blog.g20interfaith.org/2022/02/22/ecological-racism-and-deep-sea-mining-in-the-p acific/ (accessed 1 March 2022). World Commission on Environment and Development (WCED) (1987). Our Common Future. World Commission on Environment and Development.

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7 A post-eruption analysis of the significance and challenges of community-based disaster risk management in Saint Vincent and the Grenadines Allanson Cruickshank, Rose-Ann Smith, Sanya Compton and Aria Laidlow

Introduction On 27 December 2020, the Soufrière volcano in Saint Vincent and the Grenadines (SVG) began erupting effusively (UWI SRC, 2022). The eruption became explosive on the morning of 9 April 2021 with the first of several blasts, the last of which occurred on 22 April (UWI SRC, 2022). This chapter examines the role of community-based organizations (CBOs) in disaster risk management (DRM) in northern SVG. Drennan and Morrissey (2019) posited that CBOs play a critical role in helping communities to be resilient. CBOs can take various forms, such as community sporting associations, community youth associations and community disaster groups. In SVG, numerous community groups and non-governmental organizations (NGOs) exist. The SVG Red Cross Society (SVGRC) is an NGO that became an independent national society in 1984 following its inception in 1949, and is heavily involved in supporting and setting up community disaster response teams (CDRTs) in various communities nationwide. The CDRTs in the communities of Owia, Sandy Bay, Magnum-Overland and the North Leeward group of CDRTs form part of this study. Figure 7.1 shows the area of study, with the location of the communities in which the CDRTs that were interviewed operate. Note that the wind direction caused the communities located south-west of the volcano to be heavily affected by ashfall. Lahars were common in all communities along the river valleys in the very high hazard zone, but were particularly destructive in Sandy Bay. The National Emergency Management Organisation (NEMO) was established in 2006 by parliamentary Act No. 15 (GoSVG, 2006). According to the Act, the mandate of NEMO is ‘to provide for prevention, preparedness, response, mitigation and recovery in relation to hazards,

DOI: 10.4324/9781003341536-9

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Figure 7.1 Map of the area of study Source: created by the authors.

disasters and emergencies’ (GoSVG, 2006, p. 5). The Act further states that NEMO is the regulatory body for emergency operation centres and shelters; the coordinating entity for the activities of persons involved in disaster management; and the agency responsible for designating especially vulnerable areas (GoSVG, 2006). This gives NEMO full oversight of all disaster-related operations within SVG, including the CDRTs. The 2020–21 eruption resulted in damages totalling EC$ 416.07 million and losses amounting to EC$ 218.57 million across all economic sectors (GoSVG, 2021). This represents 18.1 per cent of the country’s gross domestic product in 2020 (GoSVG, 2021). Almost 49 per cent of the damages and losses came from damage to, or destruction of, housing infrastructure due to ashfall and lahars (GoSVG, 2021). The agricultural and forestry sectors were also severely affected, with economic recovery projected to require at least two years (GoSVG, 2021). The eruption offered an opportunity to assess the effectiveness of the collaboration among NEMO, the SVGRC and the CDRTs. This chapter places special attention on the CDRTs in the vicinity of the volcano, in the north-east and north-west of the island of Saint Vincent. For this purpose, the chapter addresses the following three research questions: (1) how do community-based disaster organizations (CBDOs) operate prior to, during and after disaster impacts? (2) what are the challenges faced by and the opportunities available to CBDOs in SVG? and (3) to what extent do the challenges faced by groups affect their sustainability and capacity for community-based disaster risk management (CBDRM)? The chapter comprises a brief review of the literature pertaining to CBDRM, a description of the methodology, which is a thematic analysis of elite interviews using a purposive sample, and a presentation of and discussion on the results that emerge from the interview responses. The chapter concludes by highlighting a number of implications from the results and suggests further research to build on this study. 106

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Literature review CSOs and governance Hinds and Montoute (2019, p. 2) delimited civil society organizations (CSOs) as ‘non-profit organisations that operate to represent various interests held within wider civil society’. Civil societies often comprise community groups such as women, youth and faith-based or religious organizations, and organizations such as professional associations, development NGOs and registered charities (Mulyasari and Shaw, 2012). The diversity of stakeholders involved in determining actions within our society have caused a global shift to the term ‘governance’ (Fanning et al., 2011). It is now widely recognized that global or transnational civil society plays a pivotal role in governance. In the last 30 years, the presence of CSOs in international affairs has become increasingly relevant (Hinds, 2019). They have been involved in decision-making processes, transnational diplomacy and the implementation and monitoring of a number of crucial global issues, such as trade and development, poverty reduction, human rights, peace and national security, and environmental justice (Marchetti, 2010). CSOs have thus been significant international actors as advocates for policy solutions, service providers, knowledge brokers, or simply watchdogs and monitors of state and intergovernmental actions. Due to the high level of importance of CSOs in the policy process, it is necessary that there is an enabling environment which promotes best practices in decision-making and operational procedures (Gemmill and Bamidele-Izu, 2002). As one of several best practices which should be adopted by CSOs, good governance involves providing direction and oversight so that an organization realizes its objectives, monitors and evaluates progress to protect the interest of its beneficiaries, and ensures compliance with good governance principles such as accountability, transparency, equity, etc. (De la Peza, 2009). Models of such an enabling environment are exemplified in various ways such as the best practices related to the participation of civil society in decision-making processes adopted in 2009 by the International Council of Civil Society Organisations as a consultative body to the European Council (Özhabes¸, 2013).

Effective governance in Caribbean CSOs Caribbean CSOs have long existed in numerous forms (Hinds, 2019). In the region, people’s participation in resource use and management has been seen as a viable option for the effective management and use of resources (CANARI, 2005). The nexus between governance and civil society is key to addressing challenges related to sustainable development. Over the past decade, progress has been made in using participatory approaches to project development, problem solving, capacity building, and policy influence and development. Most recently, this has been exemplified by the Escazu Agreement, which was adopted in March 2018 and later entered into force in April 2021. This Agreement focuses on fostering sustainable development through good governance. Using a human-rights based approach, the Agreement facilitates the premise under which CSOs exist, which is to influence and build citizen participation while ensuring meaningful interaction among diverse local communities, creating impactful results and strengthening community resilience (GPPAC, 2021). While there is a framework in place to support CSOs, it has been observed that CSOs in developing countries (much like the Caribbean) often lack efficient management and selfevaluation systems, effective fund-raising approaches, and the overall capacity for strategic

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planning (Bowen, 2013). The limitations of CSOs, especially those with strong community ties, need to be addressed (Bowen, 2013). Assessments of the specific impact of CSOs on civic and social programmes designed for DRM and the implications for local, national and regional DRM policies and approaches can be garnered from examining the role of CSOs during the 2020–21 eruption of the Soufrière volcano. Lessons learned from the community level can serve to improve governance and other aspects related to DRM in the wider Caribbean region.

Community-based disaster risk management A sample of 12 Asian and Latin American countries showed that 99.3 per cent of loss reports from local administrative areas were associated with localized, or community-level, disaster events (approximately 126,000 reports since 1980 in the 12 countries), which were also associated with 51 per cent of housing damage. Such disaster data exemplify that DRM is fundamentally either a local or a community affair (United Nations, 2009). CBDRM aims to progressively activate all levels of society in implementing DRM, starting with the community, then expanding outwards (Maskrey, 2011). This bottom-up, or grassroots, approach is the basis of the CBDRM framework. A key benefit of CBDRM is that it has the capacity to restructure the dynamics between the state and civil society and between local and national scales through the empowerment of communities (Maskrey, 2011). This can assist in diminishing structural vulnerabilities over time (Maskrey, 2011). In recent decades, the approach to disaster risk reduction (DRR) has become increasingly community-based (Quarantelli, 1989; Blaikie et al., 1994; Mileti, 2001; Shaw, 2012; UNDRR, 2015). CBOs enable people to express their actual priorities and needs, which allows for correctly defining problems, and designing and implementing responsive measures (Shaw, 2012). Moreover, the need for CBDRM has been found to be similar in both developed and developing countries (Shaw and Goda, 2004; Ishiwatari, 2012). Additionally, Izumi and Shaw (2012) summarized that the CBDRM approach has been initially implemented in the developing world by NGOs, followed by international organizations such as the International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies (Benson et al., 2001; Maceda et al., 2009). NGOs play a role in bridging gaps between community needs and current policies. Some of the key roles of these groups in CBDRM include, but are not limited to (Izumi and Shaw, 2012, p. 51):





capacity development of local stakeholders (e.g. government, communities, CSOs); establishing a good network and partnership with local stakeholders, resulting in a smooth coordination in disaster risk reduction activities; identifying local needs, and designing and developing projects with new elements such as climate change; and, creating a sense of programme ownership among community members for programme sustainability.

CBDOs, which take the form of CDRTs in SVG, are CSOs. The CDRTs represent an additional sphere of action for CSOs in the country, where community ties and local knowledge combine with scientific knowledge in an effort to manage disaster risk. Mercer et al. (2012) examined community disaster risk reduction in Timor-Leste. They revealed that various faith-based, indigenous, women’s and youth groups are involved in CBDRM. It also showed that, despite some successes, there needs to be greater coordination and linkages in terms of 108

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bottom-up planning and top-down decision-making (Lavell et al., 2011). There is a need for more work focused on assessing and improving CBDRM in small island developing states (SIDS), especially Caribbean SIDS, in order to build community resilience (UWI, 2018).

CSOs in community-based disaster risk management CSOs have played key roles in community-based disaster risk management (CBDRM). In the 1980s, while CBDRM did not feature prominently in the literature, CSOs, especially in developing countries, were already involved in CBDRM (Maskrey, 2011). Since then CBDRM has evolved into a common approach to DRM (Maskrey, 2011). CSOs’ activities have always been primarily focused on communities and local government (Maskrey, 2011). Globally, community-based and local-level approaches will continue to be integral in reducing disaster risk through their engagement with local stakeholders, CSOs and municipal governments (Maskrey, 2011). CSOs play a vital role in ensuring accountability and transparency in CBDRM (Atienza and Quilala, 2021). They also provide a voice for those who do not have access to influential organizations (Atienza and Quilala, 2021). Moreover, CSOs are extremely active in post-disaster recovery and response (Teets, 2009; Mavrodieva et al., 2019). In islands and small states, where governments tend to have far-reaching influence, the success of CSOs in CBDRM can largely be dependent on whether they are facilitated or repressed by the government. Baldacchino (1997, p. 69) expanded on this when he posited that ‘small state government is characteristically weighty and omnipresent and, as a result, omnipotent’. Hirczy (1995), Buker (2005) and Corbett and Veenendaal (2019) share this opinion. This has implications for CBDRM, as it is expected to be a grassroots process, not a top-down one. In the Anglophone Caribbean, work by CSOs in CBDRM has largely been project-based (van Niekerk et al., 2018). This chapter examines the CBDRM framework in the context of a recent volcanic eruption on a Caribbean small island developing state.

Methodology The research was conducted following the April 2021 explosive eruption of the Soufrière volcano, and uses that event as the context of the analysis. The primary method of data collection was via elite interviews. The research questions were utilized as a guide to develop separate interview questions for participants from (a) the CDRTs in the north of the island of Saint Vincent, which is the area of highest volcanic risk, (b) the National Emergency Management Organisation and (c) the SVG Red Cross Society. Interview questions 1 to 3 covered the structure of the organizations, including the demographics of the members. Questions 4 to 8 addressed research question 1, which covered aspects of the organizations’ operations (prior to, during and after the eruption) and training. Questions 9 and 10 addressed research question 2, which covered the challenges and opportunities available to CBDRM groups. Finally, questions 11 and 12 covered research question 3, which examined the extent to which the challenges faced by groups affect their sustainability and capacity for DRM. Due to the specific nature of the event that formed the focus of the study and the exploratory nature of the research, all four of the CDRTs in the north of SVG were interviewed. This also included the North Leeward group of CDRTs in the very high hazard zone on the west coast. The direction of the prevailing winds mean that they received significant levels of ashfall. The CDRTs were chosen to examine existing institutional structures for CBDRM. In light of this, the CDRT data cannot be used to generalize at national level or for islands and small 109

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states. Elite interviews were also conducted with a senior official at NEMO and the SVG Red Cross Society, respectively. Elite interviews were most appropriate for this study since DRM involves specific actors in government and NGOs in the Vincentian context. Overall, six key stakeholder interviews were completed in February 2022, some virtually using the video conferencing Zoom platform and, where feasible, some in person (COVID-19 protocols were adhered to). In each case, in order to reduce researcher bias, the organization selected a participant for the interview. Consent letters were obtained from each interview participant. A simplified qualitative thematic analysis of the interview data was undertaken. The data were assessed and specific themes were identified across all six interviews. Although the interview questions were not identical across the different stakeholder groups, much of the information shared was similar and was therefore arranged by themes across each stakeholder group. Four thematic areas were identified. Three of the four thematic areas identified were found across all interviews for each stakeholder group: organizational functions; capacities (an assessment of strengths, weakness and gaps); disaster readiness and response. The fourth thematic area – organizational features – was identified only for interviews conducted with the four CBOs.

Profile of CBDRM organizations The CBOs in SVG that are directly linked to disasters are CDRTs. These CDRTs vary according to the number of years during which they were active, their membership and the structure of the organization. Table 7.1 summarizes the organizational features of the CDRTs. The number of active years for each group varies. The current membership for all groups is predominantly female, while meeting frequency differs among the groups. Social media communication has been employed more regularly since the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Table 7.1 Summary of the organizational features of the four CBOs representing civil society

Organizational features Organization

Number of years active

Sandy Bay CDRT

1

Owia CDRT Overland-Magum CDRT North Leeward CDRTs (Fitz-Hughes, Chateaubelair, Petit Bordel, Rose Bank, Rose Hall and Westwood)

12 5 No data

Current membership

Number of executive members

Frequency of meetings

m* = 14; f** = 21 m = 5; f = 10 m = ~10 to 15; f = no data m = ~1; f=9 (Chateaubelair only)

16

Quarterly

No data 7

Quarterly Infrequent

None

Infrequent outside of disaster events; frequent meetings during disaster events or the threat of events

Note: *m - male; **f – female. One officer from NEMO and one from the SVGRC were also interviewed.

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Results and discussion Context The CDRTs were chosen to examine existing institutional structures for CBDRM. As community group leaders, the CDRT representatives were able to speak to the multiple experiences of the communities, as they have been in constant contact with community members before, during and after the eruption. The CDRTs also act as liaisons between the community and NEMO, and the community and the SVGRC. Although all the CDRTs in the zones of highest hazard were interviewed, the intention was not to utilize the information to generalize about the entire population in the study area, but to highlight challenges and opportunities in relation to the CBDRM structures in the study area.

Functions of CBDRM organizations This sub-section discusses research question 1, which looked at the operations of CBDRM organizations prior to and after disaster impacts. For the CDRTs, their main interest is disaster management, particularly disaster response. In relation to this, the groups have been involved in research, public awareness and clean-up campaigns. For example, CDRTs are integral to data collection activities such as mapping exercises and the development of evacuation plans. This is quite important, as the information obtained reflects the communities’ experiences and realities as well as their opinions, including those of the most vulnerable (Shaw and Okazi, 2004). Furthermore, such activities help to build the capacities of those involved, as they do not solely provide information, but they are supported by those with technical expertise (Shaw and Okazi, 2004). In order to execute their functions effectively, these groups have been involved in several capacity-building initiatives which have been organized by NEMO and the SVGRC. NEMO is the coordinating agency for DRM in SVG, while the SVGRC is an auxiliary to the government. Together, these organizations offer training to CBOs based on priority areas that they have identified and the level of funding available to them. While these organizations train the groups in a number of community-based programmes, one of the main types of training offered is the Community Emergency Response Team (CERT) programme, which enables people to respond more effectively to crises in their community. While this training is centred mainly around emergency response, it also empowers members to be able to assist with non-emergency projects that focus on the general community safety. According to NEMO, the CERT programme offers training in search and rescue, mass casualty and emergency communication, among other things. Outside of their general functions and focus, two interviewees from CDRTs reported that their organization is also involved in community social events, charity and outreach. These activities help to build community trust and foster community spirit. For instance, the Owia CDRT plays a major role in the annual national community Christmas ‘light up” competition, while the Chateaubelair CDRT in North Leeward provides first aid support at various sporting events in its community. The extent to which CBOs are integrated into the wider community development may encourage sustainability by keeping them continuously active and relevant outside periods of disaster. While most groups interviewed operate individually, the Chateaubelair CDRT functions differently from the others in this study. The group’s president also serves as the leader of the North Leeward group of CDRTs which comprises several communities. This collaborative approach allows for the mobilization and pooling of resources to address the needs of the different communities holistically.

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An assessment of the capacities and challenges faced by CDRTs As is evident in the title, this sub-section addresses the interview questions that pertain to research question 2. The CDRTs believed that their greatest asset is the specific attributes of their group, namely the youthfulness and reliability of their membership. For the Sandy Bay CDRT, having young members resulted in a more enthusiastic and energetic organization, eager to learn, open to training and willing to participate in group and community activities. The Owia, Overland-Magum and Chateaubelair CDRTs also lauded the reliability of their group members in times of disaster emergencies. Another strength of these CDRTs regards the skills and knowledge gained through training (via NEMO and the SVGRC) and the experiences of group members who had been part of previous disaster groups. The internal strength of these organizations is based on collaborative efforts that support the CDRTs. By extension, the local, regional and international networks of both NEMO and the SVGRC helped with leveraging support and accessing funding for continued training. There were some specific challenges faced by the CDRTs. Communication within and across their membership and with external stakeholders is, at times, poor in some of the groups. The concerns expressed were related to the frequency of communication and limited group meetings for some groups. The Overland and North Leeward CDRTs indicated that they do not meet frequently (see Table 7.1 and 7.2). Some groups stated that people are often late or absent from meetings, especially when there is no impending hazardous event. This suggests that for some CDRTs the main focus is to respond to eventualities on a case-by-case basis rather than continuously maintaining the structure and function of the organization. Other issues relating to communication were shared by NEMO and the SVGRC. The specific issues included the dissemination of information and both agencies’ capacity for risk communication. According to the SVGRC, it is expected that group members who participate in training workshops will disseminate this knowledge to their beneficiaries, but this is often not done. This posed an additional challenge for the groups who indicated that there is an issue when new members join their group and recognize the need for refresher courses. It suggests that while the SVGRC may have an expectation that knowledge will be shared, training is perhaps not organized or offered in the form of ‘Train the Trainer’ workshops,1 or this Table 7.2 Meeting frequency of CBOs

CDRT

Response

Overland-Magum

‘Personally, I do not believe that the group is meeting often enough. I believe that some persons came into the group with a view to receiving personal benefits from the Red Cross. Meetings often have very low turnout. Some persons say that the group is not functioning, but they do not attend the scheduled meetings’. ‘In [times of] disaster we may meet every day, or every other day or two days per week. At other times, when there are no disasters, we may not meet for a long time, but we mobilize once there is an event’. ‘One weakness is that members are often late or absent for meetings. Sometimes you have to be behind people to get things done’.

North Leeward

Owia

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intention is not explicitly stated and facilitated. There does not appear to be a formalized process to ensure that groups conduct at least one training workshop with other group members for the purpose of knowledge sharing. Furthermore, the CDRTs’ expectation of refresher courses (which was considered by CDRTs as being a limitation) also indicates that they are not aware that it is expected that they will pass on the knowledge that they obtain. NEMO also recognizes a breakdown in relation to public information and communication. They highlighted that ‘although there is a communication strategy, efforts are being put in place for getting a communication specialist on board. There needs to be a better understanding of what to communicate, how and when’. Given the heavy reliance on these external stakeholders, their limitation may translate to groups who rely on them to strengthen their own capacities, including communication. This may have implications for their capacity to mobilize resources.

CBOs in practice: a look at the 2020–21 volcanic eruption This sub-section focuses on the CBDRM groups’ operation during the effusive phase, then during the explosive phase of the eruption of the Soufrière volcano, in response to research question 1. It explores the state of readiness and response of the CDRTs, specifically the extent to which they were utilized, and their general perception of their roles and activities at different phases of the volcanic eruption. It further highlights the implications of these interactions for future interactions of the CDRT with national stakeholders.

The role of CDRTs during the effusive phase of the eruption During the effusive phase of the Soufrière volcanic eruption, the CDRTs were actively involved in preparedness efforts. Their involvement included participating in planning meetings, relevant ongoing training, and training in warehouse management and logistics (conducted by NEMO). These meetings also resulted in more frequent meetings of the CDRTs, as they were charged with increasing the awareness of their communities through identifying muster points, the nearest shelters and assisting community members in developing family emergency and evacuation plans. This preparation was useful and effective in the evacuation prior to the explosive eruption.

CDRTs’ perception of their role during the explosive phase of the eruption Notably, during the explosive phase of the eruption, interviewees from the CDRTs perceived their roles as having been diminished; they did not feel critical to the process. It was reported that activities relevant to DRM became politicized; despite their training in shelter management, they were not utilized in the shelters, rather they were replaced by an untrained government representative. Consequently, this impacted the general relationship with NEMO and affected the will and general morale of the group with many group members losing interest (see Box 7.1). A previous study found that partisan politics was a factor that resulted in the dissolution of community groups located in the Sandy Bay and Owia communities (Smith, 2016). An ongoing relationship, and continued involvement and collaboration, between stakeholders is required to build community trust and buy-in during disaster activities and to create an environment that nurtures collective discussion, agreement and action among stakeholders (Tearfund, 2006; van Niekerk and Coetzee, 2012). 113

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Box 7.1 Breakdown in the relationship of groups and NEMO following the eruption of the Soufrière volcano Responses regarding the difference in the nature of the collaboration with NEMO and the SVGRC since the eruption. Responses Response 1: ‘I, and others, believe that we are being neglected since we returned to the community. We were promised transportation to evacuate and we were stranded. Persons were looking forward to continued contact since the event. Persons complain that the Red Cross and NEMO do not have any time with them. I have had no contact with NEMO since the eruption’. Response 2: ‘Once the eruption took place, there was a reduction in the collaboration. You were now an evacuee and that is how you were seen. From the Red Cross standpoint, we started to [become more deeply] involved once the relief efforts started’. Response 3: ‘We used to have a good relationship. We don’t have that relationship anymore with NEMO … They didn’t look out for us as we expected them to do. I expected that when we went down to the shelters. I went to the shelters having prepared a list of every family in the community who had evacuated. I thought that they would ask me to work along with them to assist these persons or to help meet their needs. When we went down to the shelters, persons who didn’t do any training, or were not involved, were those who NEMO got to assist. It just became something political and they just pushed us aside. Right now, we do not know how we stand with them. The group members are saying they do not want to work with them [NEMO] again because it is unfair’.

Understanding CDRTs’ issues of sustainability This sub-section focuses on the interview questions pertaining to research question 3, which sought to determine the extent to which the challenges faced by groups affect their sustainability and capacity for disaster risk management. According to Shaw and Okazi (2004, p. 2) ‘the most common elements of community involvement are partnership, participation, empowerment, and ownership by the local people’ (Shaw and Okazi, 2004, p. 2). Yet in SVG the roles of the groups investigated are limited, particularly during the response stages of the disaster (i.e. the 2020–21 eruption of La Soufriere). In some ways, they can be viewed as passive recipients who are not fully empowered to take control of the DRM process. The results revealed a number of sustainability issues that may be influenced by sociopolitical factors including the narrow focus on response, the limited capacity of stakeholders, financial and other resources, and political will (Sibthorpe et al., 2005). Sustainability here is defined as ‘the ability to, or the capacity of, a particular community to maintain CBDM activities over time’ (Shaw and Okazi, 2004, p. 10). Importantly, issues of sustainability will impact the groups’ capacity to effectively manage disaster risk. These issues are discussed next.

An overemphasis on reactive response One of the major challenges to sustainability is a narrow focus on response. If there is no threat of a disaster, it is likely that some community disaster response teams would become dormant. A key factor that enhances sustainability is for CBOs (such as the CDRTs in this preliminary assessment) 114

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to be integrated into wider community development, establish a culture of disaster risk reduction, and the genuine participation of people in capacity-building objectives (Shaw and Okazi, 2004). NEMO emphasized that despite the training sessions and community programmes that have been offered, there is limited participation by groups who only mobilize their members when there is an impending disaster. Moreover, most of the training offered to these specific groups is reactive and there is a general lack of knowledge and understanding of the DRM process, specifically mitigation and prevention, and preparedness. For example, in response to whether their organization focuses mainly on preparing for disasters or responding to them, one CDRT stated, ‘I think it is 80 per cent on preparation and 20 per cent on the aftermath/response. In preparation, we focus on educating persons on finding exit routes, emergency contacts, etc’. This suggests that even in the preparedness phase, the focus is mainly on preparing to respond, rather than on reducing disaster risk.

Limited resources Another major barrier to sustainability is a lack of resources which can be characterized as limited skills and knowledge, limited financial resources, and a lack of technological infrastructure (Mijnarends et al., 2011). Such capacities are significant for effective comprehensive DRM (van Niekerk and Coetzee, 2012). While the CDRT groups have engaged in several training sessions, most were focused on preparing to respond to disasters, not on mitigation and general risk reduction. Even then, according to one group, the response training sessions are not enough to cement the knowledge of the trainees, and the retention strategies need to be improved. Two CDRTs expressed that they require more training in psychosocial aid, first aid, gender needs and disaster evacuation, and that there is a need for regular training; not just as a refresher, but also to increase the capacity of the groups as members come and go. A past study on the CDRTs on the island echoed issues surrounding one-off training, a lack of follow-up, and limited visibility of key stakeholders, unless there is a pending disaster (Smith, 2016). A formalized system for training that includes offering a specific number of training sessions per year for CBOs might be desirable; however, governments and other stakeholders are often limited by their own financial constraints that affect the type and frequency of training. Apart from technical expertise, a lack of technological infrastructure is another constraint that can limit mobilization and sustainability. One interviewee was asked ‘what are your current training needs that you believe will help you to fulfil your mandate more effectively?’ In response they stated that ‘We do not have radios, etc., but we do radio training. We can always improve our technology, depending on what resources we have’. Technology promotes a conducive environment for CBOs to function effectively in their disaster management activities. Organizations lacking technology are limited in the extent to which they can be involved in response-related activities (van Niekerk and Coetzee, 2012). This lack of inclusion could result in dormancy.

Partnering Partnering is key to the success of CBOs. This is exhibited through establishing and facilitating trust, social learning and networking, and linking capital (i.e. relationships between communities and persons in power such as the state or local organizations) (Woolcock, 2002). CBOs can contribute to improved public awareness, knowledge sharing and learning through volunteerism and citizen science. These participatory and engaging actions help to strengthen capacities. Such relationships have proved to be quite crucial in communities involved in disaster management activities (La Trobe and Davis, 2005; Wisner et al., 2011; van Riet and van Niekerk, 2012; 115

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Wehn and Almomani, 2019). One community disaster response team respondent claimed that the strength and the sustainability of their group was heavily dependent on the personal relationship that they have with the Red Cross through one of their coordinators, stating that ‘if it were not for them [the SVGRC], we may not have had a CDRT. Due to this relationship with one of the Red Cross coordinators, persons are more willing to communicate and correspond with her [the Red Cross individual]’. However, this also highlighted another issue, as on occasions when the SVGRC coordinator is not around, some members lose interest in the group. It appears that their interest is only maintained through correspondence with external stakeholders. Another major issue identified is the heavy reliance of CDRTs on NEMO and the SVGRC for skills, technologies, resources and expertise to manage disaster impacts. This extreme reliance creates a power dynamic of dependency and stifles the groups’ financial and administrative autonomy. For this to be addressed, the relationship between groups and government stakeholders must be transparent with clear lines of accountability in order to sustain the partnerships between groups and organizations, thus ensuring the implementation of future DRM activities. Ceptureanu et al. (2018) argued that when target community members are active participants CBDRM is more sustainable. The results have shown how the exclusion of groups following the impact of the eruption of the Soufrière volcano affected groups and their willingness to continue working with NEMO.

Group dynamics, internal challenges, and sustainability The general tendency is for CDRTs to readily mobilize and work together if there is an impending disaster. However, as previously highlighted, there are issues surrounding participation, maintaining group numbers, and meeting attendance outside of these emergency periods which impacts not only the sustainability but also the productivity of these organizations. Captured in this assessment of CBOs is the CDRTs’ inability to be as effective and efficient due to the socioeconomic status of their members. For example, one respondent shared that ‘most of the members do not work and move to find jobs. This affects the group because the numbers are reduced’. The overall capacity of the organization is impacted when members are absent from training sessions and meetings. Increased burden could then fall on the organisations’ leaders. According to one leader, there is a perception that once you are the leader, you should do most of the work. Additionally, there are issues around the frequency of communication and from whom information is received. These factors can demotivate leaders and other group members, impacting the life span of these CBOs.

Conclusion This chapter focused on CBDOs located on the north of the island of Saint Vincent, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines (SVG). The research found that CBDOs in the study area tend to be most active when there is an impending event or immediately post-event. In terms of managing disaster risk in a sustainable manner, these groups face several challenges, including limited resources and DRM expertise within their organizations, a heavy reliance on the support from NEMO and the SVGRC, and high membership turnover.

Implications of this research CBDRM provides a useful analytical scale for disaster risk reduction and DRM in islands and small states. CSOs, in the form of CBDRM organizations, are indispensable to this approach. A network of efficient community-level organizations can be used to buttress national efforts, 116

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especially in islands and small states, which are essentially webs of communities that face similar hazards. In these cases, DRM expertise, community buy-in and financial resources are needed to ensure the sustainability of CSOs that are involved in CBDRM.

Recommendations There should be better opportunities available to CDRTs through training and partnerships with NEMO, the SVGRC and other entities. A formal process should be established to evaluate the contextual appropriateness of knowledge gained through training and to monitor whether that knowledge is being applied. CDRTs should have better access to grant funding to conduct community projects, build capacity and procure equipment and to ‘Train the Trainer’.

Areas for future research While the research highlights some strengths, gaps and even opportunities in relation to CBOs and their role in disaster management, there are still some interesting areas for future research. These include assessing NEMO’s activities nationwide to identify its socioeconomic profile and the factors which influence this; assessing CDRTs nationwide to investigate the factors that impact sustainability and opportunities; examining other hazard events, including climatic hazards to gain a holistic picture of the capacity and functionality of NEMO; and communicating lessons that can be learnt by CBOs in other natural hazard-prone SIDS from the SVG experience.

Note 1 ‘Train the Trainer’ is an instructional model whereby people are trained and at the same time taught how to train others.

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Part II

Social issues

8 Civil society, the state and the LGBTQIA+ movement The case of Trinidad and Tobago and Mauritius Andel Andrew, Lue Anda Francis-Blackman and Nandini Tanya Lallmon

Introduction This chapter provides insights into the relationship between civil society and the state in Trinidad and Tobago and in Mauritius, two small island developing states (SIDS), the first located in the Caribbean Sea and the second in the Indian Ocean. The main argument of this chapter is that political and social constraints can impede the way in which the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer (or questioning), intersex and asexual (LGBTQIA+) civil society is accommodated by the state. Social movements for LGBTQIA+ rights are often associated with mass behaviours such as demonstrations and disruptive activities, including blockades and riots. In the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, activism shifted to the digital space. It is important to note that the sheer scale of discrimination based on sexual orientation, gender identity, expression and sexual characteristics in various forms across both islands is immense (Bhalla, 2019; Isbell and Bhoojedhur, 2018). Even though the issue of inequalities faced by LGBTQIA+ people is not unknown to most local people or practitioners in the social activism and legal fields, there have been no direct attempts to collect data regarding the relationship between the state and the LGBTQIA+ civil society in Trinidad and Tobago and in Mauritius. This chapter seeks to fill this gap by responding to the following questions. How has the LGBTQIA+ movement evolved in Trinidad and Tobago and in Mauritius? What obstacles has the LGBTQIA+ movement encountered in attaining its objectives? In so doing, this chapter examines the relationship between the LGBTQIA+ civil society and the state in the two SIDS, referring to the political and social constraints in this regard. The methodology used to seek answers to these questions consists mainly in content analysis in publications and media reports relating to LGBTQIA+ supplemented with information derived from interviews with civil society organizations (CSOs) and activists in both Trinidad and Tobago and Mauritius. These interviews were conducted via virtual conference calls.1

DOI: 10.4324/9781003341536-11

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This chapter is organized in six sections. The second section presents a literature review related to the theme of the chapter. The third and fourth sections analyse of the role of civil society in matters relating to LGBTQIA+ in Trinidad and Tobago and in Mauritius, respectively. The fifth section compares the situation in the two SIDS. The concluding section summarizes the findings, identifying the major constraints faced by LGBTQIA+ communities in the two countries and commenting on prospects for the future in this regard.

Literature review Social movements, civil society and civic activism The interest in civil society has come from the normative notion of what civil society represents as well as what role civil society assumes as the society advances. The civil society literature tends to conceptualize civil society as ‘horizontal participation in autonomous public spheres’ (della Porta 2014). Civil society is considered the third sector of the economy, separate from the state and the market, alongside the usual divisions of the economy into the private and the public sector (della Porta 2014; Roy, 2008; Uphoff, 1992). It can be defined as ‘the domain of social organisation within which voluntary associative relations are dominant’ (Warren, 1999). The virtues of civil society as the good society seems at odds with the concept of a social movement and as such the next section explores the conceptualization of social movements and civic activism. Why do social movements begin in the first place? What would it take for an individual to leave the comfort of one’s home and engage in violent or non-violent civil conflict? These are questions which have preoccupied much of the social movement literature. While answers to these questions have come from grievance, resource mobilization as well as structural theories, the political opportunity theory or political process theory argues that social movements lifecycles are a result of political struggle and ‘the outcome of changes in political opportunity structure, state strategy, and transnational diffusion’ (Tarrow, 1994). Furthermore, the political opportunity theory contends that social movements are ‘collective challenges, based on common purposes and social solidarities, in sustained interaction with elites, opponents, and authorities’ (Tarrow, 1994). Civic activism, a concept related to social movements, is defined as ‘the social norms, organisations, and practices which facilitate greater citizen involvement in public policies and decisions’ (Indices of Social Development, 2011). Its activities are more related to the dissemination of information and the sharing of resources such as access to civic associations, participation in the media, non-violent demonstration or petition (Indices of Social Development, 2011). With civic activism, CSOs operate within the legal framework of the political system and engage in conventional political activities (Vilardo and Wepprecht, 2016). The literature suggests that what differentiates a social movement from civil activism is contentious collective action which forms ‘the basis of social movements’. Contentious politics is about confrontation with powerful opponents and the impetus for a social movement which occurs when ‘changing political opportunities and constraints create incentives for social actors who lack resources of their own’ (Tarrow, 1994). The political constraints are the factors which impede collective action. Therefore, a social movement implies that not only is there an asymmetrical distribution of power between groups but that the weaker parties do not have other avenues for recourse (Tarrow, 1994).

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Civil society and the political structure While the internal constraints facing CSOs in small states are well known, and include financial limitations and low membership, external constraints on civil society are also of major importance. Ryan and Bissessar (2002) maintain that the type of political structure in place, in particular the Westminster system, imported from the former colonising power, has a direct impact on the representation, inclusion and participation of civil society. With this in mind, Grenade (2013) contends that in the Caribbean, the first-past-the-post system can create obstacles to power-sharing and democratic participation in the decisionmaking process. In addition, the same author contends that civil society is often marginalized or ostracized in the Caribbean. Ragoonath (2009) argues that a major factor affecting the extent of citizen engagement in the Caribbean has been the resistance on the part of the central government to address this issue. Similarly, in Mauritius the government does not accord much importance to ensuring adequate provision of space and funding to CSOs (Ragodoo, 2009).

Literature on sexual orientation Multiple variants of the acronym LGBT have been used to refer to sex, sexual orientation, gender identity and sex characteristics. It originally started as the acronym GLB to denote gays, lesbians and bisexuals (Mardell, 2016). Following the solidarity displayed by lesbians during the Human Immunodeficiency Virus/Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome (HIV/AIDS) pandemic of the 1980s and 1990s, the letter L was placed first as a signal of respect, turning the acronym into LGB. Thereafter, the letters T, Q and I were added to represent transgender people, queer people and intersex people, respectively (Mardell, 2016). The term LGBT is perceived as not fully inclusive of the vast array of communities that it is supposed to refer to. It is generally replaced by variations such as LGBTQ, LGBTQIA or LGBTQI+. The plus symbol serves to denote those who are not represented by the six letters in the acronym or to denote variations on the gender and sexuality spectrum that have not yet been coined with specific words. The common expanded form of the acronym LGBTQI+ is LGBTQQIP2SAA, which stands for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, questioning, queer, intersex, pansexual, two-spirit (2S), androgynous and asexual. While it once embodied solidarity and intersectionality, the term LGBT can now be considered exclusionary as it only highlights certain subgroups within the LGBTQI+ movement (George, 2021). It is worth noting that the semantic changes in the terms ‘lesbian’, ‘gay’, ‘bisexual’, ‘homosexual’ and ‘queer’ have been influenced by the shift in sociocultural norms throughout history. While the term ‘gay’ used to mean ‘happy’, it has evolved to have the semantic meaning ‘homosexual’. Likewise, ‘queer’ was often associated with notions such as ‘odd’ and ‘peculiar’, but is now an umbrella term for people who are neither heterosexual nor cisgender. On the other hand, between the 1900s and the 2000s the terms ‘homosexual’, ‘lesbian’, and ‘bisexual’ experienced a shift from negative to neutral connotation (Shi and Lei, 2020). These changes appear to be synchronous to societal values. Earlier, heterosexuality was a strict norm and deviation from it was perceived in a bad light, resulting in misrepresentation, discrimination, criminalization and negative stereotyping (Connolly, 2018; D’Augelli and Rose, 1990; Della Pelle et al., 2018). With the progressive promulgation of laws to counter these beliefs, the social perception shifted and became reflected in the language (Downes, 1998; Hudson, 1996). There is a rich literature that explores the different aspects of LGBT rights and the movement in general, some of which documents the evolution of the LGBT movement and the evolution of the term LGBT. While the word ‘homosexual’ was originally used to describe 125

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same-sex relationships and same-sex gender identity, the derogatory connotation associated with the word ‘homosexual’ led to its decreased use in the 1950s and the adoption of the word ‘homophile’ (Richards, 2014). The 1970s marked a radical and revolutionary decade for the LGBT movement as it witnessed not only the decriminalizing of homosexuality in the United States but also a number of LGBT riots and protests including the New York Stonewall Riots of the 1970s (SutcliffeBraithwaite, 2018). The 1970s also saw greater use of the term LGBT to identify the LGBT movement and LGBT persons (Richards, 2014). This represented decades of debate among those belonging to the homophile movement and homophile civil society in terms of conceptualizing the LGBT identity and the goals of the LGBT movement. The literature on the LGBT civil society has focused mostly on examining LGBT rights in Commonwealth countries and the impact of anti-homosexual laws. This is not surprising given the commonalities which exists among the 32 small Commonwealth countries, namely colonial history, a legacy of anti-homosexual laws, and predominant social, religious and cultural antihomosexual values. The basis of such studies has been the enduring legacy of colonialism, i.e. anti-homosexual laws and societal attitudes and values towards homosexuality (Petrova, 2013; Gaskins, 2013; Cowell, 2013). From this basis, comparative studies have explored anti-homosexual laws and the impact of such laws including homophobia, violence as well as exclusion from socio-economic opportunities (Gaskins, 2013; Izugbara et al., 2020; DeRoy and Henry, 2018). Others contend that the state constrains LGBT activism leading to the absence of LGBT rights as part of the human rights agenda of many Commonwealth countries (Petrova, 2013). Meanwhile, others contend that there is no consensus on shared values towards homosexuality among Commonwealth countries leading to a divide among them between those in favour of and those opposed to LGBT rights (Cowell, 2013; Lennox and Waites, 2013). The latter has preferred to take a cautious approach via the courts to address legal challenges to anti-homosexual laws (Cowell, 2013). For other non-Commonwealth LGBT studies, there is also the contention that religion continues to play an integral role in the advancement, or otherwise, of LGBT rights (Corrales, 2015). Interestingly, an examination of Latin America and Caribbean countries found that Latin American countries have been more liberal than central and Caribbean countries in creating LGBT rights and legal protection (Cowell, 2013).

LGBTQIA+ activism in Trinidad and Tobago Trinidad and Tobago has not had a long history of contentious politics. The Butler Riots of 1937, the Black Power Movement of 1970 and the Jamaat al Muslimeen coup attempt of 1990 are some cases of such contentious politics. As regards LGBTQIA+, there has not been the use of aggression in voicing its demands or the use of force by the state. Historically, the roots of LGBTQIA+ civic activism in Trinidad and Tobago can be traced back to the HIV/AIDS epidemic in the 1980s. The LGBTQIA+ community was adversely affected by homosexual men who died from the disease or who suffered from HIV/AIDS. This spurred the need to provide financial or emotional support to LGBT persons who were suffering from the disease or had lost fellow friends or loved ones to the disease. In the 1990s, the Lambda group was established and focused on the fight against AIDS as well as the fight for equal rights. The aim during that period was geared mostly towards support to members, and not so much on systemic changes to the laws. During this period the focus was also on the need for social acceptance. Discrimination against the LGBT community 126

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was pervasive in society, and this affected many homosexuals who faced ostracism from their families. Some homosexuals became homeless because of such rejection. The collective identity was developed through this support system. Social solidarity formed among members of Lambda through emotional and physical support as they attended to the medical needs of terminally ill members, attended funerals as well as housed and fed members. This is the repertoire or learned behaviour of the LGBTQIA+ civil society that has continued to the present day.

LGBTQIA+ organizations It was not until 2009/2010 that there was a greater push and creation of several LGBTQIA+ CSOs. One of the main concerns of the LGBTQIA+ civil society today is supporting members. For instance, the Silver Lining Foundation was founded to prevent suicide, discrimination and bullying among LGBTQIA+ youth in Trinidad and Tobago. The Trinidad and Tobago Transgender Coalition was founded to protect and support transgender men and women in Trinidad and Tobago. For these organizations the main activities geared towards achieving their aims are support, education and advocacy. This is the case with other LGBTQIA+ CSOs in Trinidad and Tobago. These organizations have been able to continue to cultivate a collective identity through these activities which help to reinforce their common purpose too. The LGBTQIA+ civil society in Trinidad and Tobago aims to change societal values and the associated societal attitude towards homosexuality. Its messages are centred around ending LGBTQIA+ discrimination, creating an inclusive society, ending gender-based violence, fostering representation as well as creating sex and gender justice and creating a sexual culture of justice.2 Over the past decade the main activities of LGBTQIA+ CSOs have been alliance building through coalitions and partnerships with the state, international governments, local academic institutions and international organizations. The organizations involved are also engaged in advocacy, agenda setting, research, education and capacity building. For instance, the Alliance for Justice and Diversity (2020) outlined a 13-Point Action Plan which includes ‘state capacity and training on human rights; discrimination in and access to employment, healthcare, housing and goods/services; poverty and homelessness; comprehensive sex education; gender based and LGBTI violence and policing; legislative and policy exclusions and blind spots’. Some of the aims of the action plan include ending homophobia and transphobia in Trinidad and Tobago society and holding the state responsible for changing the systemic prejudices towards the LGBTQIA+ civil society. From the interviews with the organizations listed in the introductory section, it became clear that LGBTQIA+ civic activism is complex in its operations because there exist many different factions within the LGBTQIA+ CSOs with different priorities and different approaches to problem solving. While there is consensus on the overarching demands of the LGBTQIA+ issues in Trinidad and Tobago, it cannot be said that there is one voice representing the entire LGBTQIA+ civil society. As such, a number of LGBTQIA+ CSOs believe that their fight or struggle can sometimes be separate from that of their counterparts, as they face greater forms of discrimination, and their issues extend beyond sexual orientation. From the responses to the interviews conducted for the purpose of this study there seems to be a sore point relating to the case of Jason Jones v the Attorney General of Trinidad and Tobago, 2018 (see below) which challenged the state on sections 13 and 16 of the Sexual Offences Act, with some LGBTQIA+ CSOs adamant that LGBTQIA+ civic activism did not have its origins in that legal challenge. Furthermore, there also exists an issue of the claimant Jason Jones residing in the United Kingdom even though he is from Trinidad and Tobago. However, it is 127

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remarkable that even though the court has ruled on the matter, and the state has indicated its intention to appeal against the case, these same organizations are still fighting the same issue. From an outsider’s perspective this is counterproductive and shows why there is not a unified voice in moving LGBTQIA+ civic activism forwards. A major challenge that CSOs face, according to the responses to the interviews, is that of funding, particularly from local sources. Because of this these organizations usually access funding from external parties, including the European Union (EU) via the European Commission. For instance, in 2017, the Institute for Gender and Development Studies at the University of the West Indies and six LGBTQIA+ CSOs were awarded a Human Rights Grant by the EU to carry out a project entitled ‘A sexual culture of justice: strengthening LGBTQI & GBV partnerships, capacity & efficacy to promote & protect rights in Trinidad & Tobago’.3

The legal framework In Trinidad and Tobago the legal framework provides opportunities for groups and individuals including CSOs to engage in public marches and public meetings. Freedom of expression of political views, expression, association and assembly are constitutional rights4 afforded to all citizens of Trinidad and Tobago. Section 107 of the Summary Offences Act5 states that [a] ‘meeting’ means any assembly or gathering of persons called together or held for the purpose of the transaction of matters of public interest or for the discussion of such matters or for the purpose of the expression of views on such matters. Any individual or group desirous of holding such a public march or public meeting needs the permission of the Commissioner of Police. There has been no evidence to date that the state has denied the LGBTQIA+ CSOs permission to engage in such activities. Since 2018, when the first Pride Parade was held in Trinidad and Tobago (Rhode, 2018), the LGBTQIA+ community has held a series of pride parades. Like other CSOs, the LGBTQIA+ CSOs can organize peaceful protests. For Trinidad and Tobago, contentious politics is unlikely as there are avenues through which the LGBTQIA + CSOs can express their grievances, sensitize the public and engage the state. While these political opportunities exist for the LGBTQIA+ in Trinidad and Tobago, it can be argued that they have had limited success in influencing legislative changes regarding sexual orientation rights. In this regard, it is useful to examine the state’s response to the demands to change anti-homosexual laws and how social constraints affect the state’s intent. When Trinidad and Tobago gained its independence in 1962, section 6 of the Constitution of the Republic of Trinidad and Tobago created the savings clause which provided for the continuation of laws that existed when the country was a British colony, including 27 laws that discriminate against homosexuals. Changing these laws is a large part of civil society’s demands. According to Robinson (2009), ‘Trinidad and Tobago has overhauled and revised many laws governing sex crimes but have opted to keep pieces of legislation that signal heterosexuality as the “norm”’. The state is confronted with polarizing views on homosexuality and the homosexual laws. There is the dominant societal attitude towards homosexuality which is homophobic (Chadee et al., 2013). Trinidad and Tobago is a conservative society and one in which religion plays a significant role in influencing a person’s views on homosexuality and where homosexuality is considered ‘taboo’ (Chadee et al., 2013). This condemnation of homosexuality is greatly influenced by various religious organizations, which hold that homosexuality is both a sin and an abomination (Kempadoo, 2009). For instance, the Roman Catholic Archbishop, Jason 128

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Gordon, has stated that the Roman Catholic Church is against homosexuality and sees homosexuality as a moral issue (Shine 2018). According to Jackman (2017), ‘demographics, religion, interpersonal contact and beliefs about the origins of homosexuality [have] all influenced an individual’s views on the usefulness of anti-gay laws in the state’. The landmark 2018 case of Jason Jones v the Attorney General of Trinidad and Tobago is significant in several regards, including the fact that the polarized views of society on homosexuality were well demonstrated in this case. Local religious bodies, in particular the Council of Evangelical Churches and the Sanatan Dharma Maha Sabha, a Hindu religious organization, were interested parties to the case. Even though these religious bodies were clear in their opposition to the abolition of sections 13 and 16 of the Sexual Offences Act, the court repealed section 13 and section 16 of this Act. Faith-based organizations have vehemently spoken out against the ruling and there were reports of violence towards homosexual persons in Trinidad and Tobago shortly after the ruling (Sopelsa, 2018). Another pertinent point is that the complainant in this case, Jason Jones, although a citizen of Trinidad and Tobago, resided in the UK. The legal costs associated with this case were borne by Jason Jones who was able to secure funds from numerous sources to litigate the case. Jones noted that support from the local LGBTQIA+ CSOs was not forthcoming when he first approached them about legally challenging the state. For Jones, a problem with civil society in small states is they rely too heavily on the global North for direction. Jones contends that the incremental approach to advocacy and social change by the LGBTQIA+ civil society in Trinidad and Tobago has led to divisions and improper use of funding. There is a delicate balance that the state must coordinate in appeasing both sides of the LGBTQIA+ debate in Trinidad and Tobago. Regardless of the administration in power, the government has taken a guarded approach to addressing homosexual laws owing to the sensitive nature of the case and concern for the adverse impact that such legislative changes could have on the incumbent government. For instance, the Persad-Bissessar administration pledged that the government would review discriminatory laws against the LGBT community (Jenkin, 2012). However, no changes were made to the existing laws and there was a general hesitancy on the part of the Bissessar administration, which cited a divided society as a major obstacle to reform (Trinidad and Tobago Guardian, 2014). The government’s response has been strategic. Following the ruling in Jason Jones v the Attorney General of Trinidad and Tobago, 2018, the then Attorney General announced that the government would file an appeal before the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council (JCPC). For the government, the judicial arm of the state has been the ideal option for addressing such legislative reform. For the then Attorney General, the adversarial nature of LGBTQIA+ issues in Trinidad and Tobago called for the Court to make a decisive ruling (Tack, 2019). This was a strategic move on the part of the government as an appeal can take a considerable number of years as the appeal must first be heard before the Court of Appeal, and then before the final and highest appellate court for this matter, namely the Privy Council. It is highly likely that the British courts would agree with the lower court’s ruling. A ruling by the JCPC would affect 27 other discriminatory laws not only in Trinidad and Tobago but in all jurisdictions in which the JCPC serves as the highest appellate court. Thus, the legal changes would be attributed to the judicial process and not to the government of Trinidad and Tobago or to the local courts. The state’s response reflects the hesitancy in responding to the policy demands of the LGBTQIA+ CSOs. While the Privy Council’s decision would address 27 discriminatory laws, there are other areas of law, such as equal opportunities, family law, labour law and marital law, in which there is an absence of provisions that would accord rights and protection to the LGBTQIA+ community. The stance taken by the state reflects how social constraints impede 129

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the state’s willingness to address LGBTQIA+ legislative reforms. This is another example of the delicate balance that the state must achieve in appeasing both sides of the LGBTQIA+ divide in Trinidad and Tobago. For Jason Jones, this is a critical area missed by LGBTQIA+ civic activism in Trinidad and Tobago. He argues that the LGBTQIA+ civil society has not been sufficiently focussed on its demands and is to some extent seen as its own enemy. Another aspect of the relationship between the state and the LGBTQIA+ civil society in Trinidad and Tobago relates to the Equal Opportunities Commission (EOC). The EOC was created by the Equal Opportunity Act 2000 and its main function is ‘to work towards the elimination of discrimination’.6 It can be argued that the role of the EOC is complex because even though the Equal Opportunity Act was passed in 2000 there is the absence of any specific recognition of or protection of homosexual rights. This was also highlighted in 2006 in a Court of Appeal judgment in Kenneth Suratt and Others v the Attorney General of Trinidad and Tobago, 7 2006, which ruled that the exclusion of persons based on sexual orientation by the Equal Opportunity Act was unconstitutional (Wahab, 2012). The EOC has relied more on civil society to push for the inclusion of such rights in the legislation than on a more aggressive role with regard to such changes. The EOC’s view is that it is constrained in its ability to make legislative changes and as such it can only play an advisory role in recommending changes. The advocacy function of the EOC seems defunct as it relies more on the LGBTQIA+ to advocate their rights. However, this is somewhat puzzling given that part of the EOC’s mission is that of advocacy. In 2018 the then chairman of the Commission said that ‘the Commission has been advocating for and actively pursuing amendments to the Act and other relevant laws and policy reform, in the areas of sexual harassment, domestic violence, disability and sexual orientation’ (Connelly, 2018).

The LGBTQI+ situation in Mauritius Mauritian LGBTQI+ civil society and the state The first non-governmental organization (NGO) to advocate for LGBTQI+ rights in Mauritius, the Collectif Arc-en-Ciel, was established in 2005. For its first six years of existence, it was the only NGO in the island to specialize in this domain. This monopoly in the new field led to relatively rapid public acclaim and media exposure, establishing the organization as a figure of authority in this area. This further substantiates Baldacchino’s (2013) claim that as soon as a figure acquires a slight lead in a field of expertise in a small state, they may be accorded the status of authority in that sphere. However, in the early and mid-2010s, a couple of other NGOs were set up in the same field by other LGBTQI+ rights activists. While they all maintain cordial relationships with each other, it cannot be denied that the island’s small size forced them to compete with one another for funding,8 popularity and partnerships with larger international bodies. In such situations, networks of friends, allies and acquaintances are quickly set up and tapped into for enhanced access to limited resources, thereby validating Prices’ (1988) statement that, in small states, new circumstances push entities to adopt networking methods to secure the maximum number of benefits and succeed in the face of constraints. As argued by Baldacchino (2013), the organizations employ behaviour avoidance and closure tactics such as formal procedures in order to keep each other at a distance. Information is strategically exchanged after being deliberately filtered so as to maintain one’s positional advantage. In the late 2010s, the founder of one of the NGOs was nominated to a high-level advisory position by the government. While this news was welcomed by the other NGOs as it implied representation of the LGBTQI+ community at national level, it also fuelled a certain degree of 130

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antagonism towards the government’s hand-picked nominee. There were claims that the nominee was on the good side of politicians. There were also apprehensions that the nominee would be under pressure to do the government’s bidding. While LGBTQIA+ people in Mauritius generally present a united front, there have been reports of anti-bisexual attitudes within the community. This has resulted in many bisexual people not actively engaging with other members of the NGOs for fear of rejection. Many prefer to keep their bisexuality hidden as a protective mechanism against monosexism which privileges sexual attraction to only one sex or gender. Despite the general sentiment of support against external members of the community, the relationship between bisexual men and women with the lesbian, gay, transgender and queer individuals on the island remains ambivalent and complex.

Legacy of the colonial past Mauritius might have acquired independence in 1968, but many of its present laws are remnants of its colonial past. While several laws have been updated over the years to meet the requirements of contemporary society, laws pertaining to the rights of LGBTQIA+ people have remained a grey area due to vague provisions in domestic law. This has resulted in a multitude of gaps between legislation and customary practice, to the detriment of LGBTQIA+ people who have limited means of legal recourse to protect and safeguard their rights. In 2004, at a time when it was heresy to be part of the LGBTQI+ community, Nicolas Ritter, a Mauritian citizen and resident, came out publicly as an HIV-positive gay man, shaking the conservative social norms on the island. The following year saw the establishment of the Collectif Arc-en-Ciel. The same year witnessed the first pride march, held in the town of Rose Hill with the support of Amnesty International. The response to the event was violent, with public shaming of the participants, counter-marches to protest against LGBTQI+ rights and death threats to the organizers. However, given that the pride march was held with the authorization of the Commissioner of Police, the police ensured the safety and security of the participants at the pride march. Thereafter, the pride march became a peaceful annual event in the town of Rose Hill, and gradually grew in popularity as acceptance and tolerance of the LGBTQI+ community became more ubiquitous. This prompted the Collectif Arc-en-Ciel to organize the event on a bigger scale in 2018 and to shift the location from the town of Rose Hill to Port Louis, the capital city of Mauritius. However, in the run-up to the 2018 edition, the managing director of the Collectif Arc-en-Ciel received hundreds of death threats. On the day of the pride march, scores of anti-LGBTQIA+ protesters gathered to hold an unauthorized counter-march. The Mauritian police deemed that they would be unable to guarantee the safety of the pride march participants and cancelled the event. The police also arrested some of the anti-LGBTQIA+ protesters and discovered that some of them were clad in regalia related to Islamic State, including a headband displaying the militants’ logo worn by the protest leader. During Mauritius’ third Universal Periodic Review of the human rights records of United Nations (UN) member states, in November 2018, the Collectif Arc-enCiel stated that no legal sanctions had been taken against the anti-pride protestors. In the years that followed, the annual pride march was again held peacefully, but was downscaled in terms of the number of participants and moved back to the town of Rose Hill (UN, 2018).

Legal provisions in Mauritius Chapter 2 of the Constitution of the Republic of Mauritius provides for the protection of the fundamental rights and freedoms of the individual. Within this Chapter, Article 3 provides for 131

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the right of the individual to life, liberty and security of the person and the protection of the law; freedom of conscience, of expression, of assembly and association; and right to privacy and property without discrimination by reason of race, place of origin, political opinions, colour, creed or sex. In the same Chapter, Article 16 provides for protection from discrimination on the basis of race, caste, place of origin, political opinions, colour, creed or sex. In its report published in 2015, the Mauritius National Human Rights Commission explained that the term ‘sex’ can be considered to include sexual orientation. It should be highlighted that there is a gap in terms of the legal provisions pertaining to gender identity, gender expression and sex characteristics. Similarly, a dichotomy persists between Section 250 of the Mauritius Criminal Code Act 1838 which criminalizes the sexual act of sodomy while Article 9 in Chapter 2 of the Constitution provides for the protection for privacy of home and other property. Sections 5, 64 and 114 of the Workers’ Rights Act of 2019 prohibit discrimination in employment and occupation, termination of agreement and harassment at work, respectively, based on sex, sexual orientation and gender. However, there is no provision pertaining to transgender people. The Equal Opportunities Act of 2008 provides for protection against discrimination on the basis of gender and sexual orientation, but it does not cover gender identity. In 2016, the EOC supported the decision of the Civil Status Division to prohibit the civil marriage of two individuals of the same sex, based on the absence of specific provisions regulating same-sex marriage (Namwase and Jjuuko, 2017). Likewise, legal provisions for samesex couples are absent in the Protection from Domestic Violence Act 2016, thus depriving same-sex partners of protection against domestic violence. Moreover, the Civil Service Family Protection Scheme Act 1969 does not entitle the surviving same-sex partner to workers’ benefits in the event of death of the working partner. On 26 September 2014, the UN Human Rights Council (UNHRC) passed a resolution to combat violence and discrimination based on sexual orientation and gender identity. Mauritius did not support, oppose or abstain on the matter. So far, there is a dearth of legal precedent from UN Treaty Bodies pertaining to sexual orientation and gender identity in Mauritius because there have been no complaints in this regard from the country. In 2019, Edward Henry Richard Coombes, a gay Mauritian citizen, lodged a plaint with summons against the state of Mauritius, demanding that Section 250(1) of the Criminal Code that criminalizes sodomy between consenting adults in private be declared unconstitutional. This was followed by a legal plaint filed by Abdool Ridwan Firas Ah Seek, similarly challenging the constitutionality of Section 250(1) of the Criminal Code. The main arguments are that this section is in breach of the other constitutional provisions that guarantee the enjoyment of fundamental rights and freedoms in a democratic society, right to sexual orientation that is intrinsic to right to life, right to personal liberty, right to privacy, right to protection of freedom of expression and protection against discrimination. In an unprecedented turn of events, the case was granted leave to be heard at the Supreme Court. At the time of writing, the proceedings were still under way and the final verdict remains to be pronounced. The LGBTQI+ community welcomed the news as a positive outcome, as newspaper coverage of the case brought visibility to their cause, credibility to their voice and legitimacy to their advocacy. They also remain hopeful about Section 250(1) being struck off from the Constitution, and subsequently paving the way for the passing of the Gender Equality Bill that would help to eliminate much of the discrimination faced by the LGBTQI+ community. However, critics have commented that the Supreme Court may not take the bold step of setting legal precedent in favour of LGBTQI+ rights in the Mauritian society where living outside of the norms of heterosexuality and gender binarism is still taboo. Legal analysts have also 132

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pointed out that Mauritian judges tend to be older in age and hold conservative values about heteronormativity. Given the high degree of familiarity between members of the Mauritian society – a typical trait in SIDS (Baldacchino, 2013) – judges might also be concerned about their personal reputation after pronouncing a verdict that challenges the status quo.

Comparative analysis of Mauritius and Trinidad and Tobago The LGBTQIA+ rights advocacy movements in Mauritius and in Trinidad and Tobago are still in the nascent stages of development, with a lack of tailored resources to support activists and policymakers in their lobbies for legal reforms in favour of LGBTQIA+ rights. Both are Commonwealth countries, whereby the legal frameworks remain remnants of colonization, creating substantial hurdles for civil society movements in bringing about change on matters pertaining to LGBTQIA+ rights. Global-scale advocacy on LGBTQIA+ rights can be ineffective because global bodies often have limited buy-in from SIDS. Given that both countries were previously colonized, international direct advocacy to promote LGBTQIA+ rights is frequently rejected on the grounds of cultural imperialism, thereby compromising efforts of local LGBTQIA+ activists. In both island states, research and knowledge dissemination as well as capacity building of CSOs are mostly underfunded because LGBTQIA+ issues are often controversial not only in foreign aid recipient SIDS but also in some donor countries. The lack of LGBTQIA+ specific indicators and robust disaggregated data hinders the adequate monitoring of the impact of programmes. Consequently, it becomes difficult to assess the extent to which progress is made or what gaps impede progress. While LGBTQIA+ persons form a particular social group within the meaning of the UNHRC resolution on human rights, sexual orientation and gender identity adopted in 2011, there is no such provision under domestic law, although both Mauritius and Trinidad and Tobago supported the resolution. This further raises the question of whether both countries are abiding by the various international law mechanisms that the states are parties to. Within the Mauritian Constitution, Article 3 pertaining to fundamental rights and freedoms of the individual and Article 16 providing for protection from discrimination prohibit discrimination based on race, place of origin, political opinions, colour, creed or sex. The Constitution of Trinidad and Tobago provides for the same in Chapter 1 of its Constitution. The Mauritius National Human Rights Commission stated in its annual report for the year ending 2015 that ‘the term “sex” in the Constitution can be construed to encompass sexual orientation’ (Mauritius National Human Rights Commission, 2015, p. 11). However, there are no specific laws addressing the protections afforded to individuals based on their gender identity, gender expression and sex characteristics, thus exposing transgender and intersex individuals to human rights violations. While Section 250 of the Criminal Code of Mauritius penalizes sodomy, Articles 3, 5 and 9 of the Constitution of Mauritius guarantee the right to a private life and personal liberty. Similarly, Sections 13 and 16 of the Sexual Offences Act in Trinidad and Tobago condemn the private life of LGBTQIA+ people. This has given rise to a dichotomy whereby the Constitution is upheld as the supreme law of both countries in certain cases while, in others, individuals are condemned by the courts. Although Mauritius does not have any specific legislation against hate crime, it has enacted legislation such as the Equal Opportunities Act 2008 that explicitly protects people from discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation. However, in 2016, the EOC condoned the decision of the Civil Status Division to disallow the civil marriage application of two same-sex 133

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adults on the grounds that there is no provision in local laws for civil marriage of two persons of the same sex (Namwase and Jjuuko, 2017). Likewise, the Equal Opportunity Commission of Trinidad and Tobago created under the Equal Opportunity Act 2000 appears to be a toothless watchdog in light of the lack of active recognition or protection LGBTQIA+ rights. The Domestic Violence Act 1999 of Trinidad and Tobago clearly specifies that the definition of ‘cohabitant’ means ‘a person who has lived with or is living with a person of the opposite sex’, thereby depriving same-sex couples of the protection from domestic violence. Likewise, the Protection from Domestic Violence Act 2016 does not include any provision pertaining to same-sex couples, thereby stripping LGBTQIA+ victims of domestic violence from access to justice. Similarly, it remains undetermined whether crimes against LGBTQIA+ people are categorized as crimes committed with aggravating circumstances under Section 282 of the Criminal Code of Mauritius. Mauritius neither supported, opposed nor abstained from the UNHRC resolution adopted in 2014 to combat violence and discrimination based on sexual orientation and gender identity. Since there have been no complaints from inhabitants of either Mauritius or Trinidad and Tobago concerning sexual orientation and gender identity to bodies of the UN, there has been no jurisprudence emanating from the human rights treaty bodies on sexual orientation and gender identity for either country. These legal loopholes have victimized LGBTQIA+ people in various ways, including exposure to perpetrators of human rights abuses and lack of access to justice as a means of protection of their fundamental freedoms. There is a pressing need to examine the consequences of these grey areas on the lives on LGBTQIA+ people in Mauritius and in Trinidad and Tobago so that evidence-based recommendations can be formulated to address the issues. Although the governments of both SIDS have set up their own statistical offices to collect and process data on various sectors such as health, education and population issues, there is a severe lack of data in the legal and social development fields. In many cases, it is impossible for interested members of the general public, such as scholars, NGOs and students, to obtain access to existing data due to bureaucratic red tape. Additionally, owing to the taboo associated with LGBTQIA+ rights, only a handful of reports are available on this topic. Likewise, the public databanks in both island states are rarely updated, thus forcing individuals in search of information to turn to unaccredited online publications and other secondary sources that are sometimes of questionable quality.

Conclusion The introductory section of this chapter posed two questions relating to the evolution of the LGBTQIA+ civil society movement and the obstacles it has encountered in Trinidad and Tobago and in Mauritius. It has been shown that in both island states, the LGBTQIA+ civil society movement is still in the nascent stages of development. The main obstacles that the movement encounters include conservative attitudes in both countries, legal traditions inherited from their former colonizers and funding limitations. These realities are commonly found in SIDS, most of which gained their independence between the 1960s and 1980s. Throughout the discussion, reference was made to the relationship between the state and the LGBTQIA+ civil society, arguing that it is a very complex one. Because of the conservative legal thinking in both countries, LGBTQIA+ civil society in these countries had limited success in their lobbying and challenging existing legislation. Social constraints have inhibited political will for legal reform. It is a delicate balance for the state when it comes to addressing

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the demands of the LGBTQIA+ civil society as there are polarizing societal values towards these issues. Furthermore, it has been observed during the encounters with LGBTQIA+ CSOs carried out for the purpose of this study that in general, in their engagement with the state, there is consensus between these organizations regarding the lack of LGBTQIA+ rights, but less unity with regard to their demands and priorities. With regards to the prospects for the future insofar as LGBTQIA+ civil society is concerned, the three major problems associated with conservative stances by society and by the state and funding limitations are not likely to be surmounted quickly. There is, however, a growing acceptance of LGBTQIA+ rights in both countries, particularly among the younger generation, and this could eventually improve the prospects for change in social stance and political will, possibly even ushering in legal reform.

Notes 1 In the case of Trinidad and Tobago, interviews were conducted with three CSOs (the Trans Coalition of Trinidad and Tobago, the Silver Lining Foundation and Friends for Life), with activists Jason Jones and Marcus Kissoon as well as with officials of the EOC. In the case of Mauritius, current and past members of the Collectif Arc-en-Ciel, the Kolektif Drwa Imin and the Association VISA-G were consulted. Consultations were also held with individual LGBTQI+ rights activists as well as with officials of the EOC. 2 See CAISO (2021). 3 European Union (2017). 4 Constitution of the Republic of Trinidad and Tobago Act 4 of 1976 Chapter 1:01. 5 Summary Offences Act 31 of 1921 Chapter 11:02. 6 Equal Opportunity Act 2000. 7 Civil Appeal No. 64 of 2004. 8 Graham and Graham (2019) found that CSOs in African SIDS tend to rely primarily on external funding, from foreign donors or international NGOs. In Mauritius, the EU provides substantial grants to local LGBTQI+ CSOs via the Delegation of the European Union to the Republic of Mauritius. The US embassy in Mauritius is also one of the major donors to organizations advocating for this cause.

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9 Weaving ‘culture’ and political advocacy in a small island nation Samoa Fa’afafine Association and non-heteronormative Samoans Yoko Kanemasu and Asenati Liki

Introduction The Pacific Island nation of Samoa has often drawn international media attention for persons known as fa’afafine. Fa’afafine (literally meaning ‘in the manner of a woman’) are Samoans assigned male at birth whose gendered behaviours are feminine to varying degrees, often with a sexual/ romantic orientation towards masculine men (Schmidt, 2016). They are a highly visible social group, to the extent that they are widely assumed to constitute the country’s ‘third gender’. Indeed, a longstanding claim circulated in both media and scholarly discourses (e.g. ABC, 2005; Farran, 2010; Mageo, 1992) is that a boy born to a family short of feminine labour may be raised as fa’afafine (although this claim is not supported by more recent research1). Correspondingly, many observers maintain that ‘fa’afafine are widely accommodated, utilised, appreciated, “loved”, and valorised in a way that is not found with similar populations in the West’ (Dolgoy, 2000, p. 134). Despite such beliefs about their cultural legitimacy and social integration, fa’afafine have historically experienced many forms of marginalization and stigmatization, especially (but not exclusively) by normative males (Dolgoy, 2000; Kanemasu and Liki, 2020; Schoeffel, 2014). Samoa is a Christian state (declared so in 2017), where same-sex relations between males remain illegal (although the criminalizing law is not actively enforced) and a powerful discourse of fa’asamoa (the Samoan way of life), along with biblical Scriptures, is frequently mobilized in the denunciation of non-heteronormativity. The country’s 2018 State of Human Rights Report (Samoa Office of the Ombudsman/ National Human Rights Institution, 2018) found that verbal abuse of fa’afafine is in fact so common that it is not regarded as a problem. The report further revealed that young fa’afafine often experience severe violence from their families, which is not reported due to ‘intimidation of the victims, fear of reprisals and being disowned, lack of effective redress, and a belief that no crime has been committed’ (Samoa Office of the Ombudsman/National Human Rights Institution, 2018). In short, there is a ‘paradox of apparent cultural acceptance and very real social marginalisation of fa’afafine’ in Samoa (Schmidt, 2003, p. 418).

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DOI: 10.4324/9781003341536-12

Weaving ‘culture’ and political advocacy in Samoa

The Samoa Fa’afafine Association (SFA), established in 2006, has served as the primary advocacy and lobbying body for fa’afafine and recently also for fa’afatama (Samoans assigned female at birth but who identify as men or act ‘in the manner of a man’). SFA is one of Samoa’s most prominent civil society organizations (CSOs) and the only sexual orientation, gender identity and expression and sex characteristics (SOGIESC) specific organization. This chapter explores the strategies that SFA has employed to negotiate the complex positioning of fa’afafine in local communities and to cultivate their cultural legitimacy therein as well as its increasing engagement with modern CSO activism. The key question guiding our discussion is how does SFA balance the cultural imperatives of fa’afafine’s positioning in Samoan society with maximization of the opportunities and resources of global social movements? Our qualitative research findings illuminate the strategic manner in which SFA has appropriated key elements of both fa’asamoa and modern human rights advocacy under effective shared leadership. Using these findings, we show how a minority social movement in a small island nation successfully navigates normative barriers by employing culturally embedded advocacy approaches. Fa’afafine have attracted substantial research attention. The most relevant to our discussion is Dolgoy’s (2000, 2014) documentation of the early history of the fa’afafine movement, which details fa’afafine’s informal networking and collective activities from the 1960s to the mid1980s, prior to the establishment of SFA. The complexity of the gender embodiment and identification of fa’afafine in New Zealand and Samoa has been closely examined by Schmidt (2003, 2010, 2016). Researchers have also studied the cultural roles, meanings and representations of fa’afafine (Mageo, 1992, 1996; Schoeffel, 2014) and their legal status (Farran, 2010; Farran and Su’a, 2005). In addition, there is a large body of cross-cultural sexuality studies focused on fa’afafine (see, for example, VanderLaan and Vasey, 2011; Vasey and VanderLaan, 2007). Based on data derived from 25 semi-structured interviews with SFA members and others, we aim to contribute to this growing body of literature by outlining SFA’s strategic approach to reconciling and interweaving what appear to be contrasting agentic practices in the spheres of cultural tradition and a modern social movement. In the following sections, we present our research methodology and a brief profile of the country, followed by discussions of the complex social positionings of fa’afafine and fa’afatama, the strategies that SFA has employed to advocate their interests, and its leadership style as a key contributing factor to its success.

Methodology Our discussion relies on primary data collected via 25 semi-structured interviews conducted in August and September 2017 with 16 fa’afafine (aged 30–58) (10 of whom were SFA members), six fa’afatama (aged 24–49) (included in the sample due to SFA’s recent extension of its membership to fa’afatama), one person who identified as lesbian and two government officials in gender-related roles. Seven of the 16 fa’afafine participants were interviewed in the capital of Samoa, Apia, and nine in the island of Savai’i, while all six fa’afatama were interviewed in Apia. All but four participants were in wage employment. The interviews lasted for 40–70 minutes and were conducted primarily in English with the second author intermittently providing Samoan interpreting services. The interview transcripts were put to thematic analysis guided by the research question and new themes emerging from the data (Nowell et al., 2017). To supplement this data set, we also sought up-to-date information from president of SFA in December 2021. Our research process was informed by the principles of Talanoa, a Pacific Island methodology. Talanoa, which revolves around ‘a personal encounter where people story their issues, 139

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their realities and aspirations’, has been developed by Pacific Island researchers as a culturally appropriate methodology and a strategy for decolonizing research in the Pacific (Vaioleti, 2006, p. 21; see also Farrelly and Nabobo-Baba, 2012). It also represents a broader social philosophy that embraces ‘open dialogue where people can speak from their hearts’ (Halapua, cited in Farrelly and Nabobo-Baba, 2012, p. 2), which, in research contexts, calls for emotional sharing and reciprocity between researchers and participants, in contrast to the conventional, objectivist research model. Most of all, we were guided by its premise that research must entail ‘an embodied, holistic, and critically reflexive process whereby researchers endeavour to enhance their empathic understanding of their participants (and, as a consequence of this process, themselves as researchers)’ (Farrelly and Nabobo-Baba, 2012, p. 9). This was important especially because we are outsiders to the fa’afafine community on account of our identification as cisgender, heterosexual women. Furthermore, we do not reside in Samoa; one of us is a Samoan geographer positioned overseas and the other is a Japanese sociologist who has lived in a neighbouring Pacific Island country for two decades. Seeking guidance from members of the fa’afafine community and especially SFA was therefore a constant feature of our research process. We acknowledge that our discussions are based on a small, non-representative sample, drawn with considerable assistance from SFA and through snowball sampling.

Samoa: the country context Samoa (known as Western Samoa until 1997) is located in the south-central Pacific Ocean, and consists of two main islands, Upolu (with the capital, Apia) and Savai’i, and several others. Following German and New Zealand rule, Samoa became the first Pacific Island country to gain independence in 1962. In 2021, over 80 per cent of its population of 201,900 lived in rural areas (ADB, 2021a). The national economy depends largely on agriculture, development aid and private remittances, with 60 per cent of the population informally employed, primarily in subsistence agriculture (ADB, 2021b). Samoa is a parliamentary democracy with a constitutional system incorporating common law and customary laws. Fa’asamoa remains central to the organization of social and political life. A chiefly system, as an integral part of fa’asamoa, coexists with a democratic governance process, whereby only chiefs (matai) can contest parliamentary seats. Village councils consisting of matai are institutionalized by national legislation as a local legislative, executive and judicial organ with the powers of making rules relating to village resources, directing anyone to do work for the village and imposing punishments for misconduct according to village custom. The state relies heavily on the village councils for local governance (Samoa National Human Rights Institution, 2018). Samoa was the first Pacific Island country to ratify the Convention on the Elimination of Discrimination Against Women in 1992 and has undertaken several legislative reforms towards gender equality. More recently, and in relation to non-heteronormative communities, the government has adopted the National Policy on Inclusive Governance 2021–2031, which includes the representation of ‘persons of diverse gender identity and expressions’ in its primary goals (Ministry and Women, Community and Social Development, 2021, p. 12). Nevertheless, as the Samoa National Human Rights Institution (2018) points out: ‘Despite its Constitution declaring the protection of fundamental rights, dialogues and discussions on human rights as a foreign construct remain a challenge’. Rights-based discourses are often regarded as products of Western individualism and met with mixed responses and fear of threat to fa’asamoa. The island nation thus rests on a complex ‘mixture of traditionalist hierarchical principles combined with notions of democracy and individual rights’ (Siikala, 2014, p. 226).

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Fa’afafine and fa’afatama: non-heteronormative Samoans While fa’afafine are largely absent in early ethnographic accounts of Samoa (Mageo, 1992), Dolgoy (2000, p. 131) suggests that they were always present in Samoan society and cites a Samoan scholar’s view that societal negativity towards fa’afafine did not exist prior to European contact and is a ‘Christian legacy’. We follow Besnier (1996) in eschewing romanticized views of Polynesia that assume gender-phobia to be a purely colonial phenomenon. We also note that fa’afafine’s social positioning has been profoundly impacted by colonial and postcolonial conditions. It is, as Schmidt (2003, p. 418) observes, a result of ‘a combination of “traditional” Samoan culture and the impact of globalisation on indigenous constructions, representations and understandings of gender and sexuality’. The popular description of fa’afafine as a ‘third gender’ derives from the fact that their gender embodiment tends to encompass expressions of both femininity and masculinity and performance of both feminine and masculine labour (Dolgoy, 2000, 2014; Schmidt, 2003, 2016). Scholars have, however, pointed out that the concept of third gender ‘ignores the diversity of experience within categories’ (Towle and Morgan, 2002, p. 672). Indeed, our research points to great diversity in gender identifications and expressions among the participants, which may be better described as a ‘continuum’ (Dolgoy, 2000, p. 136). Some participants adopted a wholly masculine appearance (in terms of clothing, hairstyle, personal manner, etc.) at the same time as identifying as women. Others deployed a mix of feminine and masculine expressions and performed both feminine and masculine labour. Yet others dressed and identified exclusively as women, regarding themselves as equivalent to transwomen or culturally unique to Samoa. All but one preferred the personal pronouns ‘she/her’. Our participants stressed that the cultural legitimacy associated with fa’afafine today has not always existed and that they continue to struggle against a biblically based binary gender discourse, which is presented as integral to fa’asamoa. Some participants, especially those supported by a figure of authority in their family, felt accepted at family and community level. However, others experienced varying degrees of marginalization and victimization. For instance: My family, especially my mother, was always against me being a fa’afafine. She took me to a boys’ boarding school because she thought that I had a lot of female friends and taking me to a boys’ school would change me. That didn’t turn out well because I then became a victim of bullying at school. Family and community sanctions tend to be more frequent and severe in village settings. As another participant explained: ‘Some villages, they are strong in their fa’asamoa, and that affects fa’afafine. You know, some want long hair, trim eyebrows, but some villages don’t want that. It’s taboo’. A Savai’i participant had been punished by her village council for having long hair with a fine consisting of a pig (valued as a ceremonial offering), 10 cartons of canned fish and 300 tala.2 Another rural fa’afafine recounted having been severely beaten by her father for wearing feminine clothing. Several participants believed that such severe sanctions are among the reasons why some fa’afafine adopt short hair and masculine clothing. Many knew of fa’afafine fleeing persecution by moving from villages to Apia or leaving the family home to live with other fa’afafine. Much less is known about fa’afatama, who are also called fa’atamaloa. There is a near-total absence of historical or contemporary accounts about them (see Tcherkézoff, 2014, for a notable exception). According to a senior SFA member, fa’afatama and fa’atamaloa became

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recognized as gender categories in Samoa around 2010. Many participants considered the two terms to be interchangeable, whereas two explained that fa’afatama denotes those who identify as young/unmarried men and fa’atamaloa as mature/married men (we follow SFA’s use of the term fa’afatama throughout this chapter). Our fa’afatama participants variously identified themselves as fa’afatama, as fa’atamaloa, as transmen and as lesbians dressed as men. All but one preferred the personal pronouns ‘he/him’. In contrast to the high visibility of fa’afafine, most fa’afatama do not ‘come out’ and are not open about their gender/sexual identities due to the greater levels of stigmatization and marginalization they face. One young fa’afatama shared that he had left his Savai’i home because his family ‘don’t accept me … I’m not free’. Although he was living with his uncle’s family in Apia, he did not tell them about his gender identity or about his romantic relationship with a girl. Another participant agreed that many fa’afatama experience rough treatment from their family, yeah. And that’s when they start moving here and there. You know, they don’t stay in their house. To Apia, on the streets. Some of them are on the streets now. And staying around with gangs, you know. Staying with fa’afafine and stuff like that. Some of the fa’afatama stay with fa’afafine because they know they are free [around fa’afafine]. The routine nature of community sanctions against fa’afatama was keenly felt in one of our interviews. As we talked to our participant outside a grocery shop in Apia, a young male walked past us. With a smirk on his face, he shouted in Samoan, ‘Are these your kind of people?’, leaving the participant looking down in pain. Fa’afatama may personally advise and support each other and even form informal networks, but many are isolated, like the abovementioned participant living with his uncle, who did not know any other fa’afatama in Apia and longed to have someone with whom to share his experiences. Fa’afatama were not represented by any formal organization until SFA extended its membership in 2017.

SFA: inception and profile According to Dolgoy (2000, 2014), fa’afafine began developing networks in the 1960s and early 1970s. Dolgoy documents a group organized around a tailor shop in Apia from the early 1960s to the mid-1980s, whose informal social and sporting activities, fundraising and beauty pageants were aimed at fa’afafine identity/community making. Coordinated by effective leaders and supported by the educated Samoan elite, the group was instrumental in initiating an early identity-based movement. Notably, while the group provided fa’afafine with space for exploring new, cosmopolitan gender expressions and an urban lifestyle, its approach was distinctly ‘not politically agitating or confrontational’ and instead was based on a ‘gentle politics of recognition’ (Dolgoy, 2014, pp. 56, 70). Our findings indicate that the fa’afafine movement has since further evolved, showing significant continuity with the ‘gentle’ approach of the group documented by Dolgoy and even greater resilience in weaving the local and the global, fa’asamoa and non-heteronormative advocacy. The movement has also developed a much more formalized nature. When SFA was established, there were smaller associations or ‘clubs’ such as Seven Stars centred around sports and fundraising, My Girls with a focus on entertainment, and Tooty Fruity known for charity pageants. In contrast to these, SFA took political advocacy as its primary mandate, with the aim of bringing all fa’afafine networks under one umbrella and developing a formal, collective political platform. In a founding member’s words: 142

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I was always passionate about the establishment of fa’afafine as an organization, as a community, rather than as a club or an informal group. Before the establishment of SFA, there were many fa’afafine clubs … But these clubs were made up not necessarily by fa’afafine. It was mostly by businesspeople using fa’afafine pageants as a way to do their fundraising activities and stuff … There was a lot of drive from educated fa’afafine like Roger [the late Roger Stanley, the founding president of SFA] … All of these were fa’afafine [who had] just graduated from university. So we got together and we had something in common – it was all about directing the focus of fa’afafine to the empowerment and enhancement of the fa’afafine community, independently of other interests. We don’t do this for the sake of fundraising to benefit some particular people. Let’s do it for fa’afafine. Let this be a fa’afafine-driven movement. SFA was thus created as a non-profit incorporated society, with one of the founding members, a lawyer, drawing up its constitution. The then Prime Minister Tuila’epa Sa’ilele Malielegaoi was approached and agreed to be its patron. The association has an advisory council of five members and is managed by eight executive committee members. In addition to approximately 70 fee-paying members, there are many informally affiliated members. SFA functions as an umbrella body for smaller fa’afafine groups in villages and town, and while it remains Apiabased (with 90 per cent of its membership in the capital), one of its Savai’i members coordinates the involvement of rural fa’afafine. In the absence of core funding, SFA relies on project-based funding from the government and development agencies, as well as fundraising such as through its immensely popular annual fa’afafine pageant. SFA engages in active advocacy, namely raising public awareness of discrimination, holding dialogues for inclusion with stakeholders such as churches and collaborating with external bodies in events and campaigns. Equally focused on facilitating fa’afafine’s solidarity and mutual support, SFA’s work is wide-ranging, from fundraising for charity and organizing sports days, skills (e.g. flower arranging) workshops and information forums for fa’afafine to partnering with government ministries, development aid agencies and regional organizations in public health, HIV/AIDS prevention and other relevant campaigns. One of its key achievements is its successful lobbying for the 2013 law reform, which repealed former criminal provisions prohibiting ‘female impersonation’ by males. In 2015, the SFA leadership began taking steps towards broadening its membership, and the first fa’afatama member joined the association in 2017. Today, SFA formally acknowledges itself as an organization representing both fa’afafine and fa’afatama interests. In 2021, SFA received the Pioneer Human Rights Defenders and Promoters Award by the National Human Rights Institute.

Working with cultural imperatives As noted above, one of SFA’s most notable continuities with the early movement discussed by Dolgoy is its ‘gentle’ strategy for cultivating fa’afafine’s cultural legitimacy in communities. The SFA leadership and members have negotiated the prevailing gender discourse by working with, rather than against, the powerful institution of fa’asamoa. This non-confrontational, persuasive approach has given them cultural avenues for effecting change within families and communities. Fa’asamoa, which underpins the divisions of power, status, labour and expectations in the extended family and the village, rests on intersubjective relationships and values of fa’aaloalo (respect) and tautua (service), among other things (Huffer and So’o, 2005; Va’a, 2009). Fa’afafine have actively embraced this ethos to foster their standing in the cultural domain. For instance, while fa’afafine are known for feminine expressions, many in fact carefully craft their appearance according to social situations in a show of fa’aaloalo (respect). Some opt to 143

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wear masculine clothing at work/church and formal/ceremonial events, reserving feminine clothing and make-up for personal spaces and within limited social circles. Those living in rural areas may avoid overtly feminine expressions altogether in compliance with village rules. As articulated by a Savai’i participant: ‘We’re so culturally oriented. Everything comes back to culture … In my line of work [teaching], I don’t wear girls’ puletasi [women’s dress consisting of a long skirt and a top] and stuff’. Some may patiently wait until they are outside the scope of cultural expectations – their parents’ passing, for instance: ‘If they were alive, I’d never grow my hair … When they were gone, I realized myself. When I come to Apia, I go out and hang out; I dress up with my heart out’. Similarly, many do not make their intimate relationships public. Just three of our participants lived with their partners, and some had only had shortterm relationships due to family/village disapproval of overt indication of (what may be regarded as) same-sex sexuality. Thus, despite the hyper-visibility that fa’afafine have come to be known for, many manage the projection of their gender and sexuality in accordance with the requirements of fa’asamoa. At the same time, fa’afafine may mobilize cultural resources and protocol to secure community endorsement. Some capitalize on their matai titles to induce mutual respect (fa’aaloalo) in their engagement with normative society. An SFA executive also discussed the case of a rural fa’afafine group who made a ceremonial offering to their village council: Until now, they [the council] have accepted them to establish their own group in the village. The members are allowed to have long hair. They are allowed to wear dresses and stuff … At every special occasion like Mother’s Day, they have to present something for all the mothers. So it’s a key factor [in their acceptance]. The culture of Samoa is always about reciprocity. That is the very fabric of Samoan culture … If you want something, you have to give something. Furthermore, SFA and fa’afafine have sought to gain the buy-in of normative society through tautua (service) to the family, church and community. Within the family, in addition to performing many labour roles including care work, those in paid employment make monetary contributions to the upkeep of the household, which has important persuasive effects. An Apia participant explained this by sharing her advice to younger fa’afafine: ‘You have to look for a job … You work hard, get the money, do the thing [contributions]. That’s when they like you, they love you’. Relatedly, fa’afafine have been documented as being more altruistic towards their nieces and nephews than cisgender Samoans in an effort to gain recognition and to demonstrate value within the family (Semenyna and Vasey, 2018; Vasey and VanderLaan, 2009). Many fa’afafine are also actively involved in their churches (usually other than new evangelical denominations that are especially disapproving of non-heteronormativity), known for their choir singing and creative skills in decorating church premises for special occasions: Fa’afafine contribute to the decorations on Sunday. The pastor never relies on a boy or girl in a group, ’ cause they’re not creative … I’m a fa’afafine, they can see me, what I’m doing, what I can contribute, and that’s when they say I’m a lady. In my village, you hardly hear anyone say to me I’m a male. The boys in the village call me ‘sis’, some boys call me ‘mama’. At the broader community level, SFA’s annual pageant is intended as tautua, as well as an occasion for building fa’afafine’s solidarity and showcasing their femininity, talent for entertainment and humour. The proceeds from the usually sold-out event are donated to charities 144

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such as those supporting cancer patients and disabled and older persons. The event also offers an opportunity for SFA to partner with a range of local and regional businesses, government ministries and churches who serve as sponsors and judges. SFA has thus cultivated alliances with key agents and institutions of normative society, successfully inducing reciprocal respect and support. In 2016, the Prime Minister publicly commended SFA for its work and stated that ‘the so-called third gender should be treated equally’ (RNZ, 2016).

Embracing CSO advocacy SFA has also made many departures from the earlier networks. Most importantly, it has become tangibly aligned with global social movements engaged in human rights advocacy, which offers new discursive and political resources to advance its cause. In a founding member’s words: ‘Human rights is quite helpful. When we talk about human rights, it’s everybody’s rights. I think it’s the best idea. It really helps’. The SFA leadership was keenly aware that the United Nations Millennium (and subsequently Sustainable) Development Goals provided a major policy impetus for the government to make commitments to social inclusion and that framing their advocacy in terms of modern human rights discourses could be a potent strategy in this context. The annual pageant, for instance, is not only an occasion for a public gesture of tautua; the language of human rights figures prominently in event themes such as ending discrimination and gender-based violence. The annual Fa’afafine Week coincides with 16 Days of Activism against Gender-based Violence, World Aids Day and Human Rights Day, with relevant themed events alongside social activities for fa’afafine. SFA has forged affiliations with regional and global LGBTIQ+ movements, such as the Pacific Sexual and Gender Diversity Network, the International Trans Fund and the International Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Trans and Intersex Association. These are marked developments, bearing in mind Dolgoy’s (2000, p. 169) previous observation that fa’afafine ‘resist identifying with overseas gay movements where projections of identity are concerned’. While some participants did consider fa’afafine to be a culturally unique gender category, and human rights discourses are not necessarily or simply imposed on fa’afafine’s understandings of justice, SFA has embraced solidarity with regional and global movements. SFA’s inclusion of fa’afatama since 2017 signifies further expansion of the scope of its advocacy. This was in part an outcome of the pressure from the global LGBTIQ+ movement and associated funding imperatives but also a conscious decision by SFA to embrace the transformative potential of more inclusive advocacy. According to another founding member: The world was getting progressive about inclusion, and the funding and a lot of assistance coming in was linked to that. That’s globalization. It’s progressive, I would say. Not that we are being colonized again. If we find that it’s more progressive for our society, then of course we have to embrace it. SFA has since been slowly increasing fa’afatama membership. The inaugural fa’afatama member serves on the executive committee, and as of December 2021, SFA hosts the Fa’afatama Club of 10–12 members, the first formal network of its kind in Samoa. Most recently, in its 2021 storytelling project on Facebook, fa’afatama members were given the same amount of coverage as fa’afafine, a very public gesture by SFA to present its new-found identity as an inclusive SOGIESC movement. During our fieldwork, three fa’afatama participants were uncertain about joining SFA due to concerns over autonomy: ‘Let the fa’atamaloa build their own group, talk about it … They [fa’afafine] are strong enough, not the same as fa’atamaloa’. There was a 145

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distinct sense of disenfranchisement vis-à-vis fa’afafine: ‘Why do they [Samoans] accept fa’afafine and not us?’ But they were also aware of the enormous resources and experience required for initiating a movement: ‘Without a car, without money, I don’t know how to start a club and all that. But I really wanna do that, like the fa’afafine’. SFA offers its well-established structure, connections and resources to hitherto unorganized fa’afatama, more of whom may seize this opportunity in the coming years. There is further scope for the inclusion of diverse genders and sexualities. An SFA official has been quoted as saying: ‘Although we’re pretty clear that the organization represents and promotes the interests of fa’afafine and fa’afatama firstly, we’ve been looking quite closely … what are we doing for LGBTQUI? What kind of advocacy can we do for those groups?’ (RNZ, 2016). Non-heteronormative Samoans other than fa’afafine (and fa’afatama) are even more severely marginalized, to the extent that many Samoans we met during our fieldwork categorically stated: ‘There are no gays or lesbians in Samoa’. It remains to be seen if SFA further expands its reach to develop an ever more diverse movement paralleling the trends of global LGBTIQ+ advocacy.

Striking a balance under shared leadership What appears to be central to SFA’s success to date is its ability to weave together its agentic strategies in the seemingly divergent realms of fa’asamoa and the rights-based CSO movement. It is important to note that fa’asamoa, like all cultures, is resilient and in constant flux, and is not a static, immutable entity. Nevertheless, popular understandings of human rights in Samoa tend to situate them in a binary opposition to indigenous cultural tradition. SFA must carefully manoeuvre such reified conceptions of tradition and reconcile its strategies in the two spheres in a culturally convincing manner. It has accomplished this with notable success, evidenced by the ‘acceptance’ that fa’afafine have attained in the communities and its prominence as an award-winning CSO. The pageant, which encompasses community service (tautua), public engagement through entertainment and human rights advocacy, is a primary example of its adept practice of blending. At the same time, the SFA leadership and members have taken great care to strike a delicate balance, ensuring that formal political advocacy does not undermine their cultural relevance. This was most evidently witnessed in the 2013 law reform. While they lobbied actively for the repealing of the female impersonation law, SFA members were divided over the decriminalization of homosexuality. Some members objected to pursuing this agenda owing to its culturally sensitive nature, concerned that it would only incite further disapproval. Ultimately, SFA chose not to take a formal position on it. Similarly, SFA has not advocated for same-sex marriage, a goal desired by some members. An executive playfully explained: ‘We’re not promoting it. Because of our culture, church, families and all that … We don’t wanna create a third World War, a civil war! [laughs]’. Fully aware of the centrality of fa’asamoa in the family/ community domain and the legitimacy it could offer fa’afafine, SFA has carefully managed potential conflicts. In this process, SFA has relied on an effective, culturally embedded style of leadership. The early movement studied by Dolgoy was also organized by effective leaders, but by one fa’afafine in particular whose death resulted in a lack of focused leadership. By contrast, SFA was founded on and remains grounded in a kind of shared leadership by multiple individuals equipped with extensive knowledge of both local and global advocacy spheres, which has contributed to its organizational durability and integration of multiple voices within the fa’afafine community. The face of SFA from its inception until 2018 was the founding President So’oalo To’oto’oalii 146

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Roger Stanley, a senior civil servant whose flamboyant feminine style and charisma, combined with her chiefly status, had a powerful public relations effect. SFA was, however, started by about 10 professional fa’afafine – including a lawyer, an accountant, a human rights activist, a teacher and civil servants who brought their specialized skills into the organization. Among the group, Roger was the only one who wore puletasi and overtly feminized her appearance, making her a fitting representative to the public at the time. In a founding member’s words: I feel that a fa’afafine who dresses up should be the leader. Because it suits the expectations of the communities. If I come up, they might think I’m too manly to be a fa’afafine. It might not be very appealing to the community. Yes, it’s very strategic. Importantly, Roger was capable of coordinating the disparate competencies of the executives and key members: ‘Roger is using everybody’s strengths to contribute. For example, I was really a public relations kind of person. I speak openly. I do public speaking and stuff’. SFA’s extensive work was thus held together by various talented individuals: ‘Together we stand. We all support and stand together to make things easier. Roger couldn’t have made SFA possible without our support’. Beyond the executive committee, as noted above, SFA’s official positions on key issues are made by consensus and the preferences of the fa’afafine community rather than by any individual leader. Unbeknown to the members, such collective fostering of the organization prepared them for Roger’s unexpected passing in 2018, undoubtedly the greatest blow to SFA in its history. Despite the immense sense of loss and grief, SFA is overcoming this crisis. The presidency was succeeded by the then Vice-President Alexander Su’a, a founding member and one of Samoa’s first fa’afafine lawyers, under whose auspices SFA has continued its work and managed disruptions caused by the COVID-19 pandemic. Although the pageant had to be cancelled in 2020 and 2021 due to restrictions introduced to curb the pandemic, Fa’afafine Week activities were successfully organized online. There are also signs that SFA is on track for continued development; in 2021, it took another step towards inclusivity by organizing some Fa’afafine Week events in Savai’i for the first time. ‘Shared leadership’ has recently drawn attention in the Western leadership literature, which has for decades been dominated by a hierarchical, leader-centric paradigm (Zhu et al., 2018). In contrast with traditional top-down leadership, shared leadership entails a ‘dynamic, interactive influence process among individuals in groups for which the objective is to lead one another to the achievement of group or organisational goals or both’ (Pearce and Conger, 2003, p. 1). In successful shared leadership, team performance and viability are facilitated by ‘reciprocal influence that further develop and reinforce existing relationships among team members’ (Carson et al., 2007, p. 1221). Scholars have studied this leadership style predominantly in Western organizational/managerial settings (Carson et al., 2007; Kocolowski, 2010), but it is a deeply culturally embedded practice in some non-Western locations. Critical to fa’asamoa is the utmost priority of nurturing and respecting the collective. The Samoan proverb ‘O le tele o sulu e maua ai figota’ (‘With many torches, you will find shellfish’) underscores the paramount importance that Samoans have historically placed on sharing leadership and responsibility in collective interests (Ministry and Women, Community and Social Development, 2021, p. 5). SFA has proved itself to be highly competent in cultivating reciprocal influence and collective endeavour to sustain its organizational capacity for complex advocacy strategies in multiple domains. Given the possibility of further inclusion of fa’afatama, development into an even broader movement, and greater engagement with global LGBTIQ+ agendas such as decriminalization and same-sex marriage in the future, SFA’s capacity for effective shared leadership is likely to be tested, and to gain further significance, in facilitating a dynamic fusing of CSO activism and 147

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cultural politics. If SFA is able to continue to harness its shared leadership skills, it may well further broaden its reach and impact in effecting social change.

Conclusion This chapter has examined the strategies for social change that SFA and its members have employed under Samoa’s specific sociocultural conditions. The case study illustrates how a minority social movement in a small island nation with deep attachments to indigenous tradition can successfully navigate CSO activism by mobilizing cultural resources. Since its inception, SFA has appropriated the discourses and resources of fa’asamoa and rights-based social movements in furthering the interests of the fa’afafine community. While the two domains are conceptualized in contrasting terms in Samoa and demand contrasting strategies, SFA has adeptly integrated them in its extensive activities, the annual pageant being a primary embodiment. The visibility and cultural legitimacy associated with fa’afafine in present-day Samoa should not be taken for granted; they are hard-won victories of SFA and the fa’afafine community through this sustained and strategic endeavour. SFA was recently confronted with an unprecedented crisis. The loss of the prominent founding president was unexpected and devastating, and could have dealt a critical blow to the organization. Yet SFA is presently demonstrating notable resilience. We have suggested that it is attributable to shared leadership anchored in the Samoan cultural ethos of reciprocity and collective responsibility, which the late Roger Stanley and key members had consistently cultivated. The strategic direction SFA has been taking is likely to bring further challenges, as well as opportunities, in the future, as the organization continues its engagement with the global LGBTIQ+ movement and broadens the scope of its advocacy. Its ability to weave together ‘culture’ and political advocacy, grounded in effective shared leadership, is expected to become ever more important in this pursuit.

Notes 1 See Schoeffel (2014) and Tcherkézoff (2014). The participants in our study also rejected this claim. 2 The average weekly household income in Savai’i is approximately 500 tala (Samoa Bureau of Statistics, 2016).

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10 The role of civil society actors in responding to gender-based violence in Seychelles Diana Benoit

Introduction The aim of the chapter is to assess the role of civil society in responding to gender-based violence (GBV) in Seychelles. In addition, the chapter investigates the strategies used by some civil society organizations (CSOs) operating in Seychelles to create awareness about gender-related issues in response to the needs of those affected. Gender-based violence, domestic violence, intimate partner violence and violence against women and girls are terms that are often used interchangeably in studies related to gender inequality and violence. Despite these varied concepts, they all expose perpetual gross violation of human rights within many societies around the world. This chapter uses the term gender-based violence as an umbrella term for the physical, sexual, psychological and socioeconomic harm, threats and coercion directed towards individuals or groups based on their gender (UNHCR, 2021; Inter-Agency Standing Committee, 2015). GBV can be perpetuated in public, but most of the time it takes place in the household between intimate partners. GBV is generally used to highlight the systematic inequalities between gender, the socially constructed characteristics of women and men, in which women and girls are mostly affected. Adopted in 1993, the United Nations (UN) General Assembly Resolution 48/104 containing the Declaration on the Elimination of Violence against Women1 recognizes that violence against women is a manifestation of historically unequal power relations between men and women, which have led to domination over and discrimination against women by men and to the prevention of the full advancement of women and that violence against women is one of the crucial social mechanisms by which women are forced into a subordinate position compared with men. However, this does not mean that men and boys do not experience GBV, rather it emphasizes that women and girls are predominantly affected by gender violence.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003341536-13

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There are various forms of violence including mental abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse, socio-economic abuse, forced prostitution, female genital mutilation and dowry-related murder (Heise et al., 2002, p. 6). Based on a country’s cultural beliefs and social institutions, gender discrimination is often concealed, as a result of which the perpetrators are not held accountable and the intimidated victims, or survivors, are reluctant to speak out and seek support. GBV remains a complex ongoing phenomenon, akin to a shadow pandemic (UN Women, n.d.), and oftentimes it is the everyday life of vulnerable and silenced individuals and groups in several parts of the world. In recent years, there has been a reported increase in GBV around the world directly related to the COVID-19 pandemic. The World Health Organization (WHO) stated that globally, prior to the COVID-19 pandemic, one in three women experienced violence (UN Women, n.d.). The first confirmed case of COVID-19 was reported in December 2019 and WHO declared the situation a public health emergency of international concern in January 2020 and a pandemic in March. In his message to commemorate the 20th anniversary of the UN Trust Fund to End Violence against Women, the UN SecretaryGeneral stated that ‘COVID-19 has led to a shadow pandemic of violence against women and girls everywhere’ (UN, 2021). In a systematic review of 15 studies conducted in low- and middle-income countries, before and during different stages of the COVID-19 pandemic, the findings of 12 of these studies point towards a significant increase in violence against women and children (Bourgault et al., 2021, p. 3). Even in Australia, a high-income country, there has been a rise in GBV cases (Pfitzner et al., 2020, p. 6). In 2020, many countries took drastic measures to curb the spread of the pandemic with restrictions on international travel and internal movements, and the temporary closure of educational institutions and workplaces. This meant that more people were at home for longer periods of times and this has exacerbated existing social problems and introduced new challenges for families and the society in the face of two pandemics, namely the COVID-19 pandemic and the shadow pandemic of violence. This problem is one of the targets of the UN Sustainable Development Goal (SDGs), relating to the achievement of gender equality and empowerment of women and girls to eliminate all forms of violence against all women and girls. SDG 5 is based on the notion that gender equality is not only a fundamental human right, but a necessary foundation for a peaceful, prosperous and sustainable world. With regards to civil society’s role in attaining the SDGs, including the elimination of GBV, the UN Department of Economic and Social Affairs (n.d.) has stated that CSOs play a critical role in the enormous duty of closing the gap to resolve these problems that cannot be accomplished by governments alone. This is especially important in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. In delivering SDG 5, Rosche (2016) argues that ‘[w]omen and women’s organisations are key to leveraging the potential of the SDGs for advancing women’s rights, and SDG 5 in particular’. This chapter is organized in five sections. The section that follows this introduction concentrates on the contextual background of GBV in Seychelles, to demonstrate the prevalence of this social disease, and then goes on to highlight the emergence of the civil society sector and its actors. The third section explains the methodology of the qualitative analysis conducted to attain the objectives of this study. The findings of the study are analysed and discussed in the fourth section, examining the respondents’ role as civil society actors; their programmes and activities to support survivors of GBV and other vulnerable groups; the challenges and limitations they face in achieving their organizational goals; and the CSOs’ future plans to sustain survivor programmes and promote the sustainable development of the civil sector in Seychelles. The fifth section concludes the chapter with implications of the results. 152

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Contextual background GBV in Seychelles The Republic of Seychelles is an archipelago of 115 islands located in the western Indian Ocean just off the eastern coast of Africa with a population of less than 100,000 (World Bank, 2022). Similarly to other small island developing states, Seychelles faces many socio-economic and environmental susceptibilities (World Bank, 2022) mostly brought about by economic and climatic shocks. Even so, in 2015, Seychelles became the second African country to attain high-income status according to the World Bank classification because of its good economic performance (World Bank, 2022). Politically, Seychelles is a democratic country that gained independence in 1976 and held its first multiparty presidential election in 1993 after a new Constitution was adopted. The Constitution of Seychelles recognizes the fundamental rights of every citizen to life, liberty and happiness (Human Rights Law in Africa, 2004, p. 1460). In 2019, the country embarked on a transitional justice process to come to terms with its dark past and to investigate numerous alleged human rights abuses arising from politically motivated incidents that followed the coup d’état of 1977 shortly after the country became independent (Benoit, 2020, 2022). Seychelles has, for years, seen an increase in reported cases of GBV, as evidenced in three recent studies on GBV conducted in 2010, 2016 and 2018. In 2011, Gender Links, a South African CSO, published the Seychelles Gender Protocol Barometer that showed the annual statistics of GBV, more specifically intimate partner violence, in Seychelles. The findings showed that the Family Tribunal recorded a rise in spousal violence between 2006 and 2010, from 164 cases in 2006 to 217 cases in 2010, representing a 39 per cent increase in the four-year period (Morna et al., 2011, p. 84). Data collected from the study also showed that women and girls were more affected by sexual abuse: 100 per cent of the reported adult rape cases in 2010 were women and 100 per cent of the reported child rape cases were girls. As in many societies where GBV exists, many of the victims in Seychelles either did not report the violence or they subsequently withdrew their case. For instance, 15 per cent of the adult rape cases and 10 per cent of the child rape cases reported in 2010 were withdrawn by the complainant (Morna et al., 2011, p. 82). Meanwhile, a report published by the UN Development Programme on the country’s socio-economic response and recovery efforts amid the pandemic also refers to possible underreporting of GBV cases during the COVID-19 lockdown (UNDP, 2020, p. 43). In 2016, Gender Links conducted a national baseline study that highlights how GBV remains one of the most common human rights violations in the Southern African Development Community (SADC)2 region, including Seychelles (2016, p. 16). When the study was conducted, Seychelles was the first county in the SADC region to conduct a study on GBV that looked at violence (physical, sexual, psychological and economical abuse) against both women and men. The findings of the study confirmed the incidence of violence in the community, especially between intimate partners and that gender violence is experienced by both women and men. According to the study, 58 per cent of women and 43 per cent of men have experienced some form of GBV at least once in their lifetime, with 54 per cent of women and 35 per cent of men having experienced intimate partner violence (Gender Links, 2016, p. 7). Furthermore, 31 per cent of women and 40 per cent of men have perpetrated GBV, while 40 per cent of both women and men confirmed that they have perpetrated violence against an intimate partner (Gender Links, 2016, p. 7). Overall, the findings showed that both women and men have experienced and perpetrated violence, but it is women who are disproportionately more affected and impacted by violence.

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In 2018, an expert group in consultation with the Commonwealth Secretariat conducted a study on GBV in Seychelles, the results of which were published the following year. The study used focus group discussions with 12 GBV female survivors to assess the economic cost of violence against women and girls. To complement the 2016 Gender Links study, the expert group consultation explored the number of repeated incidences of GBV. According to the findings, 80 per cent of the study participants experienced GBV ‘more than 4 times during the 12 months-time period’ and only 20 per cent of the study participants sought help following the incidents (Commonwealth Secretariat, 2019, p. 25). Overall, four key facts emerged from these three studies. First, the prevalence of GBV in Seychelles over the past decade remains largely unresolved. Second, the frequent occurrence of GBV between intimate partners implies that children are directly or indirectly impacted by violence. Third, both women and men have experienced some form of GBV, but women and girls are disproportionately negatively affected and impacted by violence. Fourth, underreporting of violence by the survivors or their family is a key factor that encourages perpetrators to continue to inflict harm and suffering since they are seldom held accountable for their actions.

The civil society actors Regardless of the varied understanding and definitions of civil society, it can be argued that it has become universally accepted as a sector ‘in which individuals come together and form groups, pursue common enterprises, share interests, communicate over important and sometimes not so important matters’ (Chambers and Kopstein, 2006, p. 365). Civil society, mainly characterized by the voluntary nature of participation, comprises of legally registered CSOs that are non-profit, voluntary-based and operating autonomously from government. In Seychelles, the civil society sector emerged in the late 20th century with the establishment of the Liaison Unit of Non-Governmental Organisations (LUNGOS) in 1989 as an umbrella organization for CSOs, and thereafter the registration of several locally registered CSOs. In 2008, LUNGOS strengthened its relationship with the Seychelles government through the signing of a memorandum of understanding. This agreement made LUNGOS eligible for an annual budget from the government that supported the daily running of its secretariat. In 2014, LUNGOS was transformed into the Citizen Engagement Platform Seychelles (CEPS) as a national platform for civil society in Seychelles. The new remit of CEPS (n.d.) was to provide common ground for civil society participation in development, enabling overall growth and development of the civil society sector, capacity development, inter-organizational/ sector networking and liaison, partnership facilitation, policy engagement and the delivery of some essential services to the sector. Currently, there are around 200 registered CSOs in Seychelles and the majority of the active organizations are accredited members of CEPS. The CSOs work in a variety of thematic areas such as environment, health, social care, gender, interfaith, peacebuilding, democracy and governance.

Research design and methodology This study employs a qualitative research approach which is widely utilized in the applied fields in social sciences (Marshall and Rossman, 2014, p. 1), including social work and community development. 154

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The purposive sampling technique was used to identify respondents representing CSOs that operate in Seychelles and that were engaged in gender-related programmes and activities for more than five years. Ten CSOs were approached for this purpose, five of which consented to take part in the study. All respondent CSOs were based on Mahé, the largest island in the Seychelles archipelago, and were represented by either current or former chairpersons of the following organizations:






Alliance of Solidarity for the Family (ASFF) Association for the Promotion of Solid Human Family (APSHF) Gender and Media Plus Association of Seychelles (GEM Plus) Stand up, Step up Seychelles (SUSUS) Women in Action and Solidarity (WASO)

All the CSOs that participated in the study, expect for one (GEM Plus), were accredited members of CEPS at the time of data collection. The respondents were provided with details relating to the study, including its specific objectives. They received an information letter and a list of questions to enable them to understand the type of data that was required for the study. Semi-structured interviews were conducted with the respondents, using a mixture of closedended and open-ended questions. The closed-ended questions were intended to collect specific data about the CSOs including the date of registration, their vision and objectives, and their membership composition. The open-ended questions enabled the respondents to share their own experiences as part of the civil society sector and to provide their own perspectives on the subject of gender violence in Seychelles. The questions were about their organization’s programmes and activities to create awareness on GBV; the challenges and limitations they encounter in fulfilling their commitment to eliminate GBV; the forms of support they receive from the government, the private sector and international bodies; the support they provide to survivors of gender violence and their families; rehabilitation programmes and support for the perpetrators; and the future plans of their organization. The procedure had a number of limitations. First, the sample was somewhat small, and no attempt was made to test its representativeness given that there was not enough data on CSOs to conduct reliable tests on this matter. However, the purposive sampling adopted for this study provided very useful information of the role of the civil society sector on matters relating to GBV. Second, the five responding CSOs were all located on Mahé and time constraints prevented the study from reaching CSOs located on other islands in the Seychelles archipelago especially the Praslin and La Digue islands.3 Third, due to COVID-19 restrictions, it was not possible to meet with all the respondents in-person to conduct the interview. As a result, three out of the five interviews had to be conducted virtually. This may have created a degree of bias, as the in-person meetings elicited a more comprehensive response from the interviewees.

Findings and discussion Working in the civil society sector From the responses of the respondents, it emerged that in Seychelles GBV is a common recurring issue which civil society has been discussing for years with other key stakeholders from the public sector, including government departments responsible for family affairs, social welfare, law, safety and security. It also transpired that most of the members of the responding CSOs who are actively involved in the running of the organization and the delivery of the 155

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programmes and activities are women, with men making up a very small proportion of the organization’s members. In addition, the majority of members were in part- or full-time employment, which meant that they have to meet after working hours or at weekends. However, all five respondents stated that their members are passionately dedicated to the cause and this is possibly why these organizations have existed for more than five years. From the responses to the interviews, it also emerged that all the CSOs have plans to grow and recruit more members. The mandate of the five responding CSOs varies, but had many things in common. They all aim to promote ethical values, human rights and awareness of gender-related issues. They aim to strengthen family values, to eliminate of all forms of violence (in particular GBV and bullying), to empower women and girls in reproductive health, and to promote gender equity and equality. The four accredited members of CEPS (ASFF, APSHF, SUSUS and WASO) expressed their satisfaction with the support they receive from the CEPS secretariat, which includes training opportunities to build their capacities; access to office facilities (computers, printers, etc.); assistance with preparing publications or organizing activities; and access to meeting rooms and conference rooms at a reduced fee.

Creating awareness: CSO programmes and activities From the interview responses, it emerged that the five CSOs use a wide range of strategies to promote their respective agendas. The following are some of the activities mentioned by each of the five respondents. ASFF offers a clinical service for sexual and reproductive health accessible to all genders in the country. Its purpose is to promote responsible families through the lens of sexual and reproductive health and rights. The clinic provides family planning and men’s health in addition to gynaecological and urological specialized services. Equally, ASFF reaches out to the larger community through various targeted interventions in workplaces and educational institutions in Mahé, Praslin and La Digue. Through its sessions, the organization also explores GBV, bodily autonomy and integrity, parenting skills, and comprehensive sexuality education. When the professionals at the clinic identify any issues such as sexual or physical violence, a referral is made to the appropriate authorities with the permission of the client. The comprehensive psychosocial service is currently not available due to lack of funding and other resources. Despite these limitations, the ASFF team continues to assist in the best way possible to provide some sort of recourse to clients in need. APSHF seeks, as its main objective, to support families in difficulty through awareness raising, education and counselling. It has seven family support groups in seven parishes, including one in Praslin. The organization works with couples, single parents, teachers and students to attain its objective. It also conducts special sessions with adolescents to educate them about life skills and to prepare them to become responsible adults. These sessions are also carried out during school holidays. To gain visibility and continuously support the families, APSHF hosts special events such as the International Day of Families, Father’s Day and International Women’s Day, as well as conducting special workshops with couples to help them to acquire the necessary skills and knowledge to improve their relationships. APSHF receives positive feedback from single parents, teachers and the adolescents themselves, and there have been great improvements in the behaviours of students. To sustain the growth of the organization, APSHF holds fundraising activities and receives generous donations from various sponsors. GEM Plus currently does not have a large number of active members and since 2021 it has not been able to organize many activities owing to the COVID-19 pandemic. A successful 156

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project that it undertook was to support 60 vulnerable women to develop their own home gardens and to set up a community-based nursery. The project empowered the women to become independent individuals, while at the same time contributing to raising awareness about climate change action. GEM Plus receives the support and collaboration of Gender Link, a CSO based in South Africa to implement many of its projects; and GEM Plus proudly represents Seychelles on the SADC Gender Alliance Network. Through partnerships and networking, the organization receives international exposure, training, capacity building opportunities and funding. Together with the SADC Gender Alliance Network, GEM Plus plans to develop a strategic plan around health and gender issues including sexual and reproductive health, and safe abortion. SUSUS is a youth-led organization that was created as a result of the increasing number of bullying incidents, including cyber-bullying via social media. The organization focuses on the prevention of bullying and the empowerment of young people. Nationally, it is leading the fight against all forms of bullying by advocating against bullying and creating awareness through various programmes and activities. SUSUS has very active members who are continually being trained in order to build their abilities, especially with regards to child protection. SUSUS collaborates with state- and private-owned educational institutions by facilitating mentorship programme with students, and conducting team-building activities with primary and secondary school teachers. In December 2020, SUSUS launched the Express Yourself e-booklet as part of a campaign to raise awareness of bullying. The e-booklet is a compilation of poems and stories that express the views and experiences of different individuals, written in the three national languages (Creole, English and French). WASO’s main objective is the empowerment of women and girls to ensure that they develop their full potential and are able to live harmoniously and enjoy a life free from any form of violence. Its main programme is the Business Incubator to equip women with social and business skills for them to become more independent and even start their own business. Moreover, WASO conducts sensitization sessions, parenting education sessions and skills development classes. Income generated from programmes and activities serve as a source of revenue to support the sustainable growth of the organization. The two main services that the organization offers are counselling for women and girls facing any difficult situation, and the national Domestic Violence Helpline launched in March 2022. There are over 15 trained volunteers who assist WASO with the services it provides for women and girls. Their programmes and activities mostly target the survivors of GBV and there is no specific rehabilitation or support programme for perpetrators of violence. Through couples counselling sessions, any perpetrators who attend can be guided as the sessions promote non-violent social change. As indicated above, in the 2010, 2016 and 2019 studies on GBV in Seychelles, it emerged that women and girls are predominantly affected by GBV. Therefore, most of the programmes and activities that the CSOs implement are directed towards helping women and girls and not necessarily towards rehabilitating the perpetrators of violence. However, since GBV occurs to a large extent among intimate partners, these CSOs are given the opportunity to interact with perpetrators during couples counselling sessions. The study respondents confirmed that only a few perpetrators are willing to participate in counselling sessions and when they do they rarely complete the entire counselling programme. Karakurt et al. (2016, p. 578) conducted a systematic literature review and meta-analysis of the effectiveness of couples therapy for resolving intimate partner violence, and they identified to some extent that this method can have a positive impact in preventing violence recidivism. However, further research needs to be conducted to confirm this finding. They recommended that couples therapy should be considered only after careful assessment of its relevance for the particular couple and assurances 157

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given that there are measures in place to guarantee the safety of both partners (Karakurt et al., 2016, p. 581).

Support for survivors and other vulnerable groups All the respondents indicated that the main priority for the CSOs is to support those affected by gender-related issues including GBV. The respondents preferred to use the term ‘survivors’ rather than ‘victims’ when referring to those negatively affected by GBV because for them the latter infers that the individuals and groups being affected are often helpless. The respondents mentioned various ways in which their respective organizations strive to support survivors and raise awareness for survivors who are seeking help. In 2018, some of the respondents and members of their organizations collaborated actively with CEPS in a national project entitled ‘Protecting Vulnerable Women’ funded by the European Union. Some of the funds received were for the implementation of a crisis shelter to protect vulnerable women and children from GBV, and women using drugs. The shelter provided a safe place for these women where they also receive medical help, counselling and legal support. The three-year project, which ended in 2021, contributed to several other key activities including support for the administrative and legislative framework to protect vulnerable women and the completion of the Domestic Violence Bill that was subsequently passed by the National Assembly in 2020 and became the Domestic Violence Act 2020.4 The Domestic Violence Act makes any form of domestic violence, including GBV, a criminal offence in Seychelles. Moreover, the project provided training and capacity building for different groups such as the police, social workers and university students. According to one respondent, the ‘Protecting Vulnerable Women’ project was able to make significant changes, but it faced many challenges as a new concept that many people did not fully understand and the funding was not sufficiently budgeted to cater for all the logistics including transportation, and provisions to allow children to stay at the shelter. At the time of data collection, the Domestic Violence Act was not yet operational. In his opening address to launch a roundtable discussion on the new Domestic Violence Act in December 2021, the Principal Secretary for the Department of Family Affairs indicated that the implementation of the Domestic Violence Act will require ‘an operative framework which incorporates all partners; namely the police, judiciary, social affairs, health and civil society’ (Ministry of Youth, Sports and Family, 2021).

Challenges faced by CSOs It was evident from the interviewees’ responses that funding is a key challenge for the CSOs to manage and sustain their operations. These organizations apply mostly for international project funding sources, and receive sponsorship and donations from local partners. However, all five respondents mentioned funding shortages, which hinders their growth and constrain them from offering adequate services to anyone who needs support with gender-related issues, which, as indicated above, are on the increase in Seychelles. According to the interviewees’ responses, the COVID-19 pandemic led to additional major obstacles for them in conducting their programmes and activities. For instance, the educational institutions remained closed for a long period of time and, as a result, CSO members were unable to resume their pre-COVID-19 school programmes with teachers and students. Even when the educational institutions reopened, these programmes remained very restricted to prevent the spread of the pandemic. Similarly, outreach programmes with couples and single 158

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parents on other islands apart from Mahé were cancelled owing to the public health restrictions.

Future plans for the CSOs Based on the responses of the study participants, the most important future plans for the CSOs can be summed up thus: 1

2

3

4

An increase in membership could transform civil society from a purely voluntary-based and part-time sector to a more professional set-up with full-time employees. This would enable CSOs to have a much bigger impact in the local community. Further funding sources will enhance the ability of CSOs to expand their services through more programmes and activities. Funding can also help to secure a more permanent physical space for them, enabling them to become more visible and accessible to the public. A closer working relationship with the government will enhance possibilities for CSOs to be consulted and possibly included in the development of government policies and strategies associated with gender issues. This will ensure that both the CSOs and the government make and take better-informed decisions in a participatory process. Training and capacity building of CSO officials and activists is very important to ensure that they stay abreast of latest theoretical understanding and practical applications related to their respective remits, as a way of further developing this sector.

Discussion The responses to the interview questions indicate that the CSOs interviewed were offering a laudable service to society in terms of advocacy and education, providing physical support, including shelter, and offering family and employment advice to GBV survivors. However, these CSOs face major challenges in conducting their work, mostly due to limited funds and a small membership base. These two constraints may be associated with the fact that Seychelles is a very small country with small-sized CSOs, where the overhead costs of running an organization tend to be high per capita. In addition, in a small territory people tend to know one another or indeed are often related to each other, and therefore taking a stand against perpetrators of GBV may involve risks. Another finding that emerged from the interviews is that the CSOs plan to improve their operations in various ways, including enlarging their membership base and seeking better ways of engaging with the government. Whether these plans will materialize is a matter of conjecture, given the small population pool of the country, while the possibility of collaborating with the government depends on political will. However, the responses of the CSOs interviewed indicated that they were optimistic that their role in combating GBV could be enhanced through improved collaboration with the public sector. Something that did not surface from the responses to the interviews is the extent to which the culture of masculinity in Seychelles perpetuates GBV and the manner in which CSOs address this problem. According to Deutschmann and Steinvall (2020, p. 113), ‘[m]any Seychellois working class men, on the other hand, are marginalised, both in the home and on the labour market, leading to various negative consequences such as violence, social isolation, unemployment and drug abuse’. Chiramba (2016), also writing about masculinity in Seychelles, argues that in Seychelles, although GBV victims are mostly women, violence against men is 159

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also common. The findings of the Gender Links national baseline study highlights the most commonly experienced form of violence against men in Seychelles as emotional (29 per cent), physical (12 per cent), economic (9 per cent) and sexual (3 percent) (2016, p. 35).

Conclusion This study explored the occurrence of GBV in Seychelles and the role of the civil society actors in responding to this problem. The data used to investigate these two issues were mostly derived via interviews with leading CSOs in Seychelles. One of the most important services offered by CSOs in Seychelles is to foster a better understanding of the concept of gender violence, and this is likely to lead to a deeper appreciation of the need to build a just society. From the responses to the interviews, it transpired that the CSOs in Seychelles, and not just the five interviewed, are performing very useful work in this regard by engaging in advocacy with GBV survivors and conducting dialogue with both the private and public sectors and with educational institutions. These CSOs provide an important link in solving a grave problem, which causes physical and psychological harm, and which can even lead to death of innocent and vulnerable members of society. In common with many societies worldwide, GBV in Seychelles remains a complex phenomenon that continues to recur, creating what seems to be an endless cycle of human rights abuses in the society. The COVID-19 pandemic has also led to a steep increase in violence against women and girls. With lockdown measures in place, many women remained trapped at home. As already indicated, following the outbreak of the pandemic, violence against women and girls – particularly domestic violence – has intensified. This chapter has shown that civil society’s role in supporting survivors of GBV, and in educating the public at large on the undesirability of such violence, can bear fruit. However, as a voluntary-based sector, the CSOs will be able to achieve this objective more effectively with adequate financial and other forms of support from the public and private sectors as well as international bodies, with whom CSOs can work to reduce and possibly eliminate this social disorder in Seychelles.

Notes 1 See www.ohchr.org/en/instruments-mechanisms/instruments/declaration-elimination-violence-agains t-women. 2 SADC consists of 16 member states of which Seychelles is one. 3 Mahé, Praslin and La Digue are the three main inhabited islands in the Seychelles archipelago and have the largest populations. 4 See https://seylii.org/sc/legislation/act/2020/21.

References Benoit, D. (2020). Addressing Alleged Human Rights Violations: The Truth, Reconciliation and National Unity Process in Seychelles. Seychelles Research Journal, 2(2), 145–153. Benoit, D. (2022). How Is Seychelles Dealing with its Past? Expectations and Realities. Seychelles Research Journal, 1(1), 50–61. Bourgault, S., Peterman, A., and O’Donnell, M. (2021). Violence against Women and Children during COVID-19: One Year On and 100 Papers In: A Fourth Research Round Up. Center for Global Development.

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Chambers, S., and Kopstein, J. (2006). Civil Society and the State. In J. S. Dryzek, B. Honig and A. Phillips (Eds), The Oxford Handbook of Political Theory (pp. 363–381). Oxford University Press. Chiramba, K. (2016). Seychelles: GBV Study Includes Focus on Men. https://genderlinks.org.za/news/sey chelles-gbv-baseline-study-casts-the-spotlight-on-violence-against-men/. Citizen Engagement Platform Seychelles (CEPS) (n.d.) Information on CSOs. www.ceps.sc/informatio n-on-csos/. Commonwealth Secretariat (2019). The Economic Cost of Violence against Women and Girls: A Study of Seychelles. Commonwealth Secretariat. Deutschmann, M., and Steinvall, A. (2020). Gender Stereotypes and the Apology in a Small State: Uncovering Creole Male Stereotypes in the Seychelles Using Digital Matched-Guise Methodology. Small States & Territories, 3(1), 99–116. Gender Links (2016). Gender Based Violence: National Baseline Study in Seychelles. Gender Links. Heise, L., Ellsberg, M., and Gottmoeller, M. (2002). A Global Overview of Gender-Based Violence. International Journal of Gynecology and Obstetrics, 78(suppl. 1), S5–S14. Human Rights Law in Africa (2004). Seychelles. Human Rights Law in Africa Online, 2(1), 1460–1473. http s://doi.org/10.1163/221160604X01476. Inter-Agency Standing Committee (2015). Guidelines for Integrating GBV Interventions in Humanitarian Action. https://interagencystandingcommittee.org/working-group/iasc-guidelines-integrating-gender-b ased-violence-interventions-humanitarian-action-2015. Karakurt, G., Whiting, K., van Esch, C., Bolen, S. D., and Calabrese, J. R. (2016). Couples Therapy for Intimate Partner Violence: A Systematic Review and Meta-Analysis. Journal of Marital and Family Therapy, 42(4), 567–583. https://doi.org/10.1111/jmft.12178. Marshall, C., and Rossman, G. B. (2014). Designing Qualitative Research (5th edn). SAGE. Ministry of Youth, Sports and Family (2021). One More Day of Delayed Action Is a Day Too Late for Some People. www.facebook.com/MinistryofYouthSportsandFamily/posts/3073548599597807. Morna, C. L., Nyakujarah L.J., and Makamure, L. (2011). SADC Gender Protocol 2011 Barometer: Seychelles. Gender Links. Pfitzner, N., Fitz-Gibbon, K., and True, J. (2020). Responding to the ‘Shadow Pandemic’: Practitioner Views on the Nature of and Responses to Violence against Women in Victoria, Australia during the COVID-19 Restrictions. Monash Gender and Family Violence Prevention Centre. Rosche, D. (2016). Agenda 2030 and the Sustainable Development Goals: Gender Equality at Last? An Oxfam Perspective. Gender & Development, 24(1), 111–126. United Nations (UN) (2021). COVID-19 Has Led to ‘Shadow Pandemic’ of Violence against Women, Girls, Says Secretary-General, in Anniversary Message for United Nations Trust Fund. www.un.org/press/en/ 2021/sgsm20989.doc.htm. United Nations Department of Economic and Social Affairs (n.d.). Civil Society Plays Critical Role to Deliver on the SDGs. www.un.org/en/desa/civil-society-plays-critical-role-deliver-sdgs. United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) (2020). An Assessment of the Socio-Economic Impact of COVID-19 in Seychelles. www.undp.org/africa/publications/assessment-socio-economic-impa ct-covid-19-seychelles. United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR). (2021). UNHCR Policy on the Prevention of Risk Mitigation, and Response to Gender-Based Violence. International Journal of Refugee Law, 33(3), 506–527. UN Women (n.d.). The Shadow Pandemic: Violence against Women during COVID-19. www.unwomen. org/en/news/in-focus/in-focus-gender-equality-in-covid-19-response/violence-against-wom en-during-covid-19. World Bank (2022). The World Bank in Seychelles. www.worldbank.org/en/country/seychelles/overview.

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11 The Refugee and Migrant Response Plan in the Caribbean Sub-Region Emerging patterns and lessons for small state civil society in global migration governance Lara-Zuzan Golesorkhi

Introduction Estimates indicate that there are around 223,000 Venezuelan migrants in the Caribbean. Small states, including Trinidad and Tobago, Guyana, Aruba, and Curaçao, are destination countries with some of the largest concentrations of Venezuelan migrants per capita. In 2020, Aruba reported the world’s highest number of Venezuelan migrants per capita at nearly 16 per cent of the population, closely followed by Curaçao with roughly 10 per cent of the population (R4V, 2022a). To address these migratory movements, the Refugee and Migrant Response Plan in the Caribbean Sub-Region (RMRP Caribbean) was established as part of the Refugee and Migrant Response Plan for refugees and migrants from Venezuela (RMRP) to direct emergency assistance and protection and to foster socio-economic and cultural inclusion. The RMRP Caribbean covers the Dominican Republic, Trinidad and Tobago, Guyana, Aruba, and Curaçao. Activities as part of the Response Plan are led by a range of ‘appealing partners’, notably United Nations (UN) agencies, international non-governmental organizations (INGOs), as well as civil society (R4V, 2022b). Yet, along migratory routes and in destination countries in the Caribbean, Venezuelan migrants face a myriad of challenges including pushbacks (i.e. non-admission and deportation), risks of trafficking, smuggling, exploitation and abuse, food and housing insecurity, as well as lack of access to education, employment, and health resources and services (R4V, 2022b). In light of these challenges, the chapter explores the following questions: in what ways do civil society actors in small states engage with global migration governance? How do civil society efforts function within these structures? And what patterns and lessons emerge for the role of small state civil society in global migration governance? This chapter addresses these questions by examining the RMRP Caribbean as a case study. In exploring civil society efforts, defined here as efforts by national non-governmental organizations (NNGOs), local and community-based groups in Trinidad and Tobago, Guyana, Aruba, and Curaçao, the chapter outlines emerging patterns and lessons for civil society in

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small states in global migration governance. The analysis of civil society efforts is situated within conceptual discourse on multi-level governance, regionalization and ‘invented’ and ‘invited’ spaces. The chapter argues that although civil society is a key partner in the RMRP Caribbean by providing essential resources and services to Venezuelan migrants, civil society often remains overlooked in terms of funding and political engagement (policymaking, implementation and evaluation). The chapter begins with an overview of scholarship on civil society and migration governance. Building on this conceptual discourse, reference is made to the RMRP Caribbean identifying the specific needs and challenges of Venezuelan migrants in the Caribbean. The chapter then outlines specific civil society efforts in Trinidad and Tobago, Guyana, Aruba, and Curaçao, and delineates emerging patterns and lessons for the role of civil society in small states in global migration governance with a focus on agency, representation and accountability.

Civil society and migration governance The role of civil society in global migration governance is broadly situated within scholarly inquiry on the role of civil society in global governance more broadly and the role of civil society in migration governance more specifically. With regard to the role of civil society in global migration governance, the concept of multi-level governance provides a framework that can be applied in the context of migration. Multi-level governance describes the ‘increasing prominence of subnational authorities in the decision-making and implementation processes’ in global governance through which a ‘dispersion of authority away from central government upwards to the supranational level, downwards to subnational jurisdictions, and sideways to public-private networks’ takes place (Panizzon and van Riemsdijk, 2018, p. 1226). In this way, power in global governance is reallocated and ‘traditional hierarchies are being reshaped through linkages between stakeholders at various levels’ (Panizzon and van Riemsdijk, 2018, p. 1226). These power-sharing (re-)arrangements are complex and can take various forms as demonstrated in the two types of multi-level governance as described by Hooghe and Marks (2001): type I multi-level governance follows a ‘hierarchical, federalist approach to governance with clear levels of ascending authority’, while type II multi-level governance follows ‘horizontal partnerships, which are thematic and territorially overlapping jurisdictions that are intentionally flexible’ (Thouez, 2018, p. 1243). In applying these conceptualizations of multi-level governance in the context of migration, Scholten and Penninx (2016) identified four modes of ‘multilevelness’. These different modes imply varying levels of engagement by civil society ranging from top-down approaches (centralist mode – limited engagement) to bottom-up approaches (localist mode – significant engagement), cooperation (multi-level mode – moderate engagement), and disengagement (decoupled mode – varied engagement). In studying the role of the UN within these distinct structures of multi-level governance and modes of civil society engagement as it pertains to migration, Thouez (2018, p. 1242) argues that global migration governance ‘will require “coalitions of the willing” between States, intergovernmental organisations, local governments and non-state actors’, thereby reflecting a type II multi-level governance in which the UN acts as a ‘wingman’. These ‘coalitions of the willing’ are premised on the notion that ‘while States ultimately decide [on migration governance], they are nevertheless constrained in their actions, both internally and externally’ (Thouez (2018, p. 1253). Internally and externally, states rely on cooperation with non-state actors (i.e. civil society) to implement global migration governance. The notion of the UN as a wingman

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in global migration governance thus signifies a move away from traditional type I multi-level governance to a role of support to stakeholders, including civil society. This move away from traditional type I multi-level governance in global migration governance is also reflected in processes of regionalization, as seen in the RMRP Caribbean. Lavenex and Piper (2021) discuss these processes with regards to perspectives ‘from above, from below, and from beyond’ in the interplay between regional and global migration governance. For Lavenex and Piper, regions have become ‘laboratories’ for global migration governance as they connect various stakeholders from above (state), from below (civil society), and from beyond (regions). As part of this interplay, civil society plays a key role ‘often the key role’ in the advancement of social change (Lavenex and Piper (2021, p. 10, emphasis in the original). Lavenex and Piper (2021, p. 11) note: Our bottom-up perspective highlights the production of a migrant-centric narrative, based upon notions of justice, fairness and equality, derived from the experience of being a migrant, in contrast to the state-dominated efforts which aim at a unified, ‘managerial’ approach to migration policy through global organisations and regional bodies or processes. Such a bottom-up perspective allows for spaces of contestation in which ‘global migration is subject to politics and its governance a political project’ (Lavenex and Piper (2021). The development of regional civil society networks is a point in case here. Lavenex and Piper establish that the role of these networks is two-fold: (1) to feed regional specificities into the advocacy efforts of the combined global migrant rights movement; and (2) to bring regionspecific issues to the attention of international organizations which then influence regional governing institutions and processes accordingly (see also Rother and Piper, 2015). A further conceptualization of this move away from traditional type I multi-level governance in global migration governance concerns ‘invented’ and ‘invited’ spaces as per Gaventa’s power cube model (2006). In brief, ‘invited spaces can either refer to existing spaces that are opening up for civil society participation or new spaces that are specifically created for such participation’ while invented spaces are ‘characterized by a higher degree of civil society autonomy on issues such as the agenda, mode of operation and participant selection’ (Rother, 2022, p. 5). More concretely, in invited spaces civil society actors are ‘guests rather than hosts’, whereas in invented spaces civil society actors are hosts (Rother, 2022, p. 5). In applying this distinction between invited and invented spaces with regards to civil society organizations (CSOs) and movements in global migration governance, Ålund and Schierup (2018, p. 814) hold that tactics used by civil society in invited spaces, such as ‘outside-inside’ strategies, function as a ‘substitute for the state, which has pulled back from public service delivery, with the consequence of social movements turning into a market of NGOs/ INGOs’. In this way, civil society becomes institutionalized and provides ‘service functions of a retiring state’, notably livelihood provision and essential resources (Ålund and Schierup (2018, p. 814). Relatedly, Wise (2018, p. 737) argues that invited spaces in global migration governance maintain ‘limited possibilities for participation and interaction with governments’ and therefore do not allow for counter-hegemonic movements or resistance from below. This kind of counter-hegemonic participation of civil society ‘is essentially marginal given the increasing penetration of neoliberal institutions in promoting a dominant “Northern” discourse on migration and development, and migration management as a mainstream policy’ (Wise (2018, p. 746). The case study analysis of the RMRP Caribbean is situated within these various conceptualizations of the role of civil society in migration governance as explored in the section that follows. 164

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The RMRP Caribbean and Venezuelan migrants The RMRP Caribbean was established within several broader regional response plans that address migration from Venezuela. For instance, the Regional Inter-Agency Coordination Platform (R4V) is a co-led initiative by the International Organization for Migration (IOM) and the UN High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), and consists of 158 appealing partners including I/NGOs, UN agencies, and other civil society actors. In coordination with national and local authorities, R4V streamlines communication, enhances coordinated operations and facilitates fact-based advocacy such as through the Caribbean Subregional Coordination Platform (R4V, 2022c). Funding for these response actions has been leveraged through the International Donors Conference in Solidarity with Venezuelan Refugees and Migrants in Latin America and the Caribbean (hereafter IDC). The first IDC was held in May 2020 and was organized and convened by the European Union (EU), IOM and UNHCR, as well as the governments of Spain, Canada and Norway. Donors pledged US $2.79 billion to support migrants and host communities across Latin America and the Caribbean (LAC) (UNHCR, 2020). It is within these operational (R4V) and funding (IDC) frameworks that the RMRP for Refugees and Migrants from Venezuela functions. The RMRP was launched in 2019 to strengthen national and regional response actions through financial assistance, information-sharing and technical support for key stakeholders. The plan brings together the 158 appealing partners at regional and national level through the R4V and is complemented by eight National and Sub-Regional Platforms, notably the RMRP Caribbean. Priority response actions of the RMRP vary country-bycountry, but broadly involve the inclusion of Venezuelan migrants in national social protection programmes, access to education, employment and health resources and services, and the prevention of gender-based violence (GBV) and support for GBV survivors (RMRP, 2020). The RMRP Caribbean is situated within the R4V, the IDC and the RMRP and comprises the Dominican Republic as well as small states including Trinidad and Tobago, Guyana, Aruba, and Curaçao – the focus of this chapter. While the noted operational (R4V - Caribbean Subregional Coordination Platform), funding (IDC), and priority response actions (RMRP) of these broader regional response plans are critical to Trinidad and Tobago, Guyana, Aruba, and Curaçao, Venezuelan migrants in these small states face specific and additional challenges in terms of entry (admission), access (resources and services) and exit (deportation and detention). For instance, Trinidad and Tobago, Aruba, and Curaçao have imposed visa restrictions for Venezuelans which have led to an increase in irregular migration and have put migrants at risk of trafficking, smuggling, exploitation and abuse (R4V, 2021a). The most common migratory routes for Venezuelans comprise land (Guyana - river travel), sea (Aruba, Curaçao, Trinidad and Tobago), and air (Aruba and Curaçao). While some of these routes have long been used as means of travelling between countries, sea and river routes have become new, irregular pathways that can result in the drowning of migrants and interceptions by the police and coast guard with subsequent detention and deportation (Hernández Santisteban, 2021). With regard to access to resources and services, there is an ongoing need for direct emergency assistance as it pertains to food, shelter and health. Venezuelan migrants have been provided with food and cash vouchers, rental subsidy and allowance, as well as specialized care as part of the RMRP Caribbean (R4V, 2022a). Primary health care is generally available for Venezuelans with regular migration status in Trinidad and Tobago, Guyana, Aruba, and Curaçao, but it is not readily accessible due to underfunded and overcrowded health systems and facilities (R4V, 2021a). Insofar as access to education and employment is concerned, regularization of status presents a substantial barrier to Venezuelan migrants. Migrant children typically have access to basic

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education in Trinidad and Tobago, Guyana, Aruba, and Curaçao (R4V, 2021e). However, Venezuelan children with an irregular migration status often cannot obtain certain certificates or diplomas which creates challenges for continued studies after high school. Another key challenge in this context concerns language of instruction. In Trinidad and Tobago and Guyana instruction is only in English while in Aruba and Curaçao instruction in Spanish exists, but is often inaccessible and/or unavailable (R4V, 2021e). Similarly, regularization of status is connected to access to the formal labour market, and consequently many Venezuelan migrants work in the informal sector. This reliance on the informal labour market comes with increased risks of labour exploitation and abuse (R4V, 2022b). According to a 2019 survey by IOM, 21 per cent of Venezuelan migrants interviewed in Trinidad and Tobago and Guyana had experienced either forced labour or unpaid work. Additionally, due to financial constraints, Venezuelan migrant women have been faced with intimate partner violence (IPV) and sexual exploitation while shelter and safe spaces for GBV survivors remain limited, especially in Aruba and Curaçao (Hernández Santisteban, 2021, p. 25 ). In terms of detention and deportation, Venezuelan migrants face challenges due to a lack of regular stay pathways. In Trinidad and Tobago, over 80 per cent of detained migrants are from Venezuela, and in Aruba and Curaçao a sponsor (national) is required in order to effect migrants’ release from detention (CMC, 2019a). It is important to note that migration is considered a ‘local competency’ in Aruba and Curaçao as the 1951 Refugee Convention is generally not applicable there (R4V, 2021b). Trinidad and Tobago has ratified the Convention while Guyana has neither ratified nor signed the Convention (UNHCR, 2022). In light of these ongoing challenges, the RMRP Caribbean has recently identified the following priority response actions: (1) preventing, mitigating and responding to protection risks; (2) delivering essential goods and services; and (3) increasing access to education, employment, and health resources and services (R4V, 2022b). A central issue in implementing these priority response actions concerns funding. According to the 2021 Caribbean Mid-Year Report, the RMRP Caribbean had met less than 20 per cent of its funding requirements (R4V, 2021c). At the beginning of 2022, the total funding requirement for RMRP Caribbean priority response actions stood at US $68.4 million, of which 86.3 per cent was to be allocated to eight UN agencies, 10.1 per cent to five INGOs and 3.57 per cent to 14 civil society partners (R4V, 2022b, p. 2). This funding hierarchy was also reflected in an update report published the year previously which showed that civil society received the least funding (R4V, 2021a, p. 1). In addition to these limitations on funding, civil society actors have also been left out of policymaking, implementation and evaluation processes as they pertain to the RMRP Caribbean and migration governance more broadly. This was the case in the ‘Caribbean Migration Consultations’ (CMC), a state-led process initiated by Caribbean countries in 2016 to facilitate a regional dialogue on migration and refugee protection-related matters (CMC, 2022). The CMC held a preparatory meeting in 2019, attended by participants restricted to ‘two officials from each Caribbean State and the constituent parts of European States in the Caribbean’; the meeting was funded by IOM and UNHCR with their representatives facilitating discussions (CMC, 2019b, p. 3). Outside of the CMC, policymaking, implementation and evaluation led mainly by state or inter-governmental organizations (IGOs) can also be identified during the 2019 High-Level Segment on Statelessness and the 2019 Global Refugee Forum (R4V, 2021a). These patterns of oversight regarding funding and political engagement of civil society in the RMRP Caribbean become even more telling when examining specific civil society efforts in Trinidad and Tobago, Guyana, Aruba, and Curaçao as explored in the following section. It should be noted that additional civil society efforts in Aruba and Curaçao are intentionally 166

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included given that these small states have some of the world’s largest concentrations of Venezuelan migrants per capita and have disproportionate numbers of persons in need (both Venezuelan migrants and host communities) compared to actual funding received (R4V, 2022b).

Emerging patterns in small states, civil society and migration governance This section outlines specific civil society efforts in Trinidad and Tobago, Guyana, Aruba, and Curaçao and delineates emerging patterns for the role of civil society in small states in global migration governance with a focus on agency, representation and accountability.

Trinidad and Tobago In 2022, there were about 34,000 Venezuelans in Trinidad and Tobago. Among people in need, both Venezuelan migrants and host communities, the R4V has identified 35,000 persons of whom the RMRP Caribbean targets 24,500 persons through its various activities (R4V, 2022a, see the section on Trinidad and Tobago). There are eight appealing partners in Trinidad and Tobago which implement activities as part of the RMRP Caribbean concerning detention, deportation, protection and education. In the context of the latter, the Espacio de Equidad (Equal Place) initiative and civil society efforts by the TTV Solidarity Network (TTVSOLNET), an NGO based in Port of Spain that aims to be ‘a solidarity partner to the Venezuelan population arriving from 2017 to Trinidad and Tobago’, deserve further attention (UNHCR, 2021a; TTVSOLNET, 2022, see the Mission Section). Equal Place is a joint initiative by the UNHCR, including TTVSOLNET as a partner, that was established in 2019 and provides accredited education for asylum seekers, refugees and other children in need. This education is free of charge, offered in English, and ‘delivers tailormade learning’ as a temporary means to address challenges in accessing education (Equal Place, 2022, see ‘About Us’). Accreditation is facilitated through NotesMaster, certification is managed through the Caribbean Examinations Council, and learning is based on the Trinidad and Tobago curriculum (Equal Place, 2022). In addition to this partnership with the Equal Place initiative, TTVSOLNET has been assisting Venezuelan migrants in receiving accredited education through the Dawere International High School Virtual Baccalaureate since 2018. The programme offers children aged 13 or older, regardless of their geographic location, an accredited high school degree that follows the Venezuelan high school system and makes students eligible for a Bachillerato diploma certified by the Venezuelan Ministry of Education. The programme is taught in Spanish, offers scholarships and provides a flexible schedule for completion (https://dawere.com/). The longevity of TTVSOLNET’s implementation of the programme, namely prior to the establishment of the Equal Place initiative (which is solely temporary) and prior to the establishment of the RMRP Caribbean, demonstrates the importance of civil society efforts in the context of migration in providing sustainable ways to address the specific needs and challenges of Venezuelan migrants (i.e. access to education, accreditation and certification) in small states such as Trinidad and Tobago.

Guyana In 2022, there were 29,000 Venezuelans in Guyana. Among people in need, both Venezuelan migrants and host communities, the R4V has identified 29,500 persons of whom the RMRP Caribbean targets 13,600 persons through its various activities. There are seven appealing 167

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partners in Guyana which implement activities as part of the RMRP Caribbean with a focus on GBV, human trafficking and smuggling (R4V, 2022a, see the section on Guyana). As part of these activities, the UNHCR has partnered with civil society, such as Blossom Inc., based in East Bank Demerara, to support children and GBV survivors from Venezuela (UNHCR, 2021b). Blossom Inc. has been officially registered since 2014 and was founded with the goal of supporting the child protection system in Guyana and supporting children and families affected by trauma. The organization implements several different projects that address these two goals, often in collaboration with IGOs and INGOs (Blossom Inc., 2022, see the section on Community Work). For instance, UNHCR, through Blossom Inc., delivered child protection training to 65 community leaders, health and education professionals, police, as well as other government officials and partners. Additionally, UNHCR through Blossom Inc. supported 21 GBV survivors with trauma-focused therapy (UNHCR, 2021b, p. 2). Furthermore, Blossom Inc. has reached 2,500 migrants via its psychosocial support services and has provided 246 migrants with emergency shelter and accommodation. Other services and resources offered by Blossom Inc. include therapy services (332 migrants), immigration assistance (234 migrants), document translation (106 migrants), outbound referrals (32 migrants), sexual and reproductive health resources (SRH) (23 migrants), school assistance (138 migrants), birth registration (16 migrants), disability assistance (three migrants), and public assistance (six migrants). Additionally, Blossom Inc. has also conducted education awareness sessions for host communities involving a total of 543 community members across Guyana (Blossom Inc., 2022, see the section on ‘Community Work’). The reach and impact of Blossom Inc.’s community activities geared at Venezuelan migrants speaks for itself, especially in comparison to efforts led in collaboration with IGOs vis-à-vis the RMRP Caribbean. Similarly, the resources and services provided through these activities highlight not only the quantitative impact on Venezuelan migrants, but also the qualitative one, namely through the targeted manner in which Blossom Inc. addresses the specific needs and challenges of Venezuelan migrants (i.e. regularization and documentation) in the small state of Guyana.

Aruba In 2022, there were about 19,000 Venezuelans in Aruba. Among people in need, both Venezuelan migrants and host communities, the R4V has identified 21,200 persons of whom the RMRP Caribbean targets 6,700 persons through its various activities. There are four appealing partners in Aruba which implement activities as part of the RMRP Caribbean (R4V, 2022a, see the section on Aruba). These activities, for which the UNHCR has partnered with civil society such as the Fundacion Contra Violencia Relacional (FCVR) and the Aruba Positive Foundation (APF), involve GBV prevention, mitigation and response, as well as providing health resources and services (UNHCR, 2021c). FCVR is an NGO based in Oranjestad and was established in 2012, with a mission to ‘systematically eradicate relational and gender violence on Aruba’ (FCVR, 2022, see the Mission section). In this context, FCVR offers legal rights education and provides GBV survivors support and guidance ‘both in a curative and preventative nature’ (FCVR, 2022). To commemorate the 16 Days of Activism against Gender-Based Violence, the UNHCR – in collaboration with FCVR – organized two film screenings. Outside of these collaborations, FCVR has developed the #OrangeAruba campaign that advocates for long-term strategic planning to prevent GBV, crowdfunds within the global theme of ‘Orange the World: Stop 168

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Violence!’, holds public debates and public education to increase awareness of GBV, and shares survivors and activists’ experiences in fighting GBV (FCVR, 2022). Another key civil society partner in the RMRP Caribbean is the APF. The APF was established in 2020 as a non-profit organization and supports people who have recently been diagnosed with HIV/AIDS or STIs, especially within the LGBTQIA+ community (APF, 2022). To mark World HIV/AIDS Day, UNHCR supported APF with the organization of a workshop to raise awareness about HIV/AIDS among local NGOs and medical professionals, and to celebrate the LGBTIQIA+ community through artistic performances (UNHCR, 2021c). In addition, APF regularly provides information about safe sex, SRH, HIV/AIDS and STIs in Spanish; it also distributes personal hygiene kits. For instance, its information pamphlet on pre-exposure prophylaxis was first published in Spanish (April 2021) and then translated into English as part of a collaboration with IOM (October 2021) (APF, 2022). Both the FCVR and the APF have provided important resources and services to Venezuelan migrants outside of the RMRP Caribbean and thereby have fostered sustainable and targeted efforts that address the specific needs and challenges of Venezuelan migrants (i.e. increased GBV and limited access to health resources and services). These efforts speak to the importance of small state civil society in the context of migration and reflect emerging patterns as has also been demonstrated in Trinidad and Tobago, and Guyana.

Curaçao In 2022, there were about 19,000 Venezuelans in Curaçao. Among people in need, both Venezuelan migrants and host communities, the R4V has identified 19,000 persons of whom the RMRP Caribbean targets 12,000 persons through its various activities. There are 10 appealing partners in Curaçao which implement activities as part of the RMRP Caribbean (R4V, 2022a, see the section on Curaçao). These activities include providing health resources and services and livelihood creation programmes, and are chiefly conducted through UNHCR in partnership with civil society initiatives such as Salú pa Tur and Venezolanos Residentes en Curaçao (VENEX) (UNHCR, 2021c). Salú pa Tur was founded in 2019 by Dr Elisa Jonsen, a Dutch doctor who worked in the gynaecology department at a Curaçao general hospital. In this capacity, Jonsen encountered irregular migrants who did not have medical insurance and thus had to pay for primary care. To fill this gap, Dr Jonsen created Salú pa Tur, the only clinic in Curaçao providing primary health care free of charge to migrants irrespective of status. As of 2021, the clinic had reached 4,000 patients through targeted measures (R4V, 2021d). Between November and December 2021, UNHCR – through Salù pa Tur – provided basic health care, reproductive, prenatal and maternity care, and psychosocial support, as well as HIV/AIDs and diabetes care via 4,735 consultations for irregular migrants. Moreover, the clinic conducted 163 COVID-19 tests, six people received STI and HIV screening tests, and 37 persons received SRH counselling (UNHCR, 2021c, p. 2). Another CSO that has been providing essential resources and services to Venezuelan migrants, both in collaboration with other actors and under its own auspices, is VENEX. This CSO was formed by Venezuelans residing in Curaçao for the purpose of ‘working together for a better Venezuela’ (VENEX, 2022, see the Mission section). VENEX regularly shares information on legal matters pertaining to Venezuelan migrants and offers courses and workshops to Venezuelan migrant youth to help them to learn and connect. In November 2021, VENEX opened its headquarters (‘La Casa del Venezuelan’) in Willemstad as a space where the organization’s efforts come together. In collaboration with UNHCR, VENEX held a bakery and 169

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pastry course for 35 migrants, thereby providing income-generating opportunities. Meanwhile, in collaboration with Amnesty International, VENEX compiled a report on human rights violations experienced by Venezuelan migrants in Curaçao (VENEX, 2022; UNHCR, 2021c, p. 2). Similarly, VENEX extended a request for survey participation by the International Labor Organization (ILO) on the inclusion of Venezuelans in the labour market in Aruba and Curaçao (VENEX, 2022). In conjunction with emerging patterns in the role of civil society in global migration governance in Trinidad and Tobago, Guyana, and Aruba, Salù pa Tur and VENEX demonstrate experience-based measures to address the specific needs and challenges of Venezuelan migrants in Curaçao (i.e. access to health resources and services, and information sharing). VENEX is a pertinent example of migrant-led initiatives which have become increasingly important in facilitating political engagement by and for affected communities, not least in small states.

Lessons for small states, civil society and migration governance Small state civil society efforts, as demonstrated in the various ways through which national NGOs, local and community initiatives have addressed the specific needs and challenges of Venezuelan migrants in Trinidad and Tobago, Guyana, Aruba, and Curaçao, are imperative to global migration governance. Yet, as has also been shown above, these efforts remain overlooked in terms of funding and political engagement (policymaking, implementation and evaluation). This is particularly pressing in small states which often report the largest per capita migrant populations and in which persons in need, both migrants and host communities, exceed funding measures. In analysing the specific civil society efforts within scholarly inquiry on the role of civil society in migration governance, several lessons for civil society in small states can be delineated on questions of agency, representation and accountability: With regards to agency, which is understood as recognized capacities in global migration governance, civil society actors in small states are often regarded as the key players among stakeholders from above (state) and from beyond (regions), but are sidelined in matters of funding and political engagement. As demonstrated by the examples of Blossom Inc. in Guyana and APF in Aruba, civil society efforts have made a sustainable impact on the lives of Venezuelan migrants before and after the introduction of the RMRP Caribbean. Lessons in this regard thus concern an increased recognition of these impactful efforts that exist prior to any establishment of state-led and/or IGO-led response plans rather than solely acknowledging the impact made in collaborations as part of said response plans. Such acknowledgment must come in the form of stand-alone funding. Similarly, in terms of representation, conceptualized as acting on behalf of affected communities in global migration governance, civil society efforts in small states, especially when experience-driven, deserve further attention in scholarly inquiry that goes beyond state-centric and IGO-centric analyses. The efforts of TTVSOLNET in Trinidad and Tobago and Salù pa Tur in Curaçao are a point in case here as they directly address the specific needs and challenges of Venezuelan migrants in a targeted manner, outside of the operational and funding framework of the RMRP Caribbean. Indeed, the Equal Place initiative, as a temporary measure, appears to build on the already existing efforts of TTVSOLNET, as does the collaboration between UNHCR and Salù pa Tur conducted between November and December 2021. Aspects of representation in the sense of acting on behalf of affected communities is thus manifested through civil society efforts rather than the RMRP Caribbean and must be considered as it pertains to funding and political engagement of civil society in global migration governance. 170

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In matters of accountability, defined as placing responsibility on stakeholders in global migration governance, small state civil society efforts, such as FCVR in Aruba and VENEX in Curaçao, highlight the importance of political engagement as it pertains to policymaking, implementation and evaluation. VENEX is particularly notable in this regard as it is a Venezuelan migrant-led organization that has contributed its expertise based on lived-experiences as a means of holding destination countries accountable (i.e. human rights violations experienced by Venezuelan migrants and labour inclusion of Venezuelan migrants). These kind of contributions in political engagement, whether through knowledge production (VENEX) or awareness raising (FCVR’s campaign on the 16 Days of Activism Against Gender-Based Violence), are imperative to accountable global migration governance as civil society often acts as a connecting point between migrant communities and governing bodies.

Conclusion Civil society efforts operate with or without response plans such as the RMRP Caribbean and collaborations with IGOs (i.e. UN agencies). Nearly all the civil society efforts examined in Trinidad and Tobago, Guyana, Aruba, and Curaçao existed prior to the establishment of the RMRP Caribbean and have provided essential resources and services that then were extended through funding as part of the response plan. Civil society efforts have thus become institutionalized, as described by Ålund and Schierup (2018), in that they provide services of a ‘retiring state’. Indeed, the process of extending already existing activities through UN funding problematizes Thouez’s (2018) argument of the UN acting as a ‘wingman’. The significance of funding provided through the UN must not be underestimated as it arguably acts as a Janusfaced endeavour: on the one hand, additional funding means that more resources and services can be provided, while on the other hand these funding streams create power dynamics in which civil society efforts not only become institutionalized as doing the work of the state, but also as doing the work of the UN (i.e. Blossom Inc., APF). Relatedly, the very targeted and impactful ways through which the civil society efforts examined here provide essential resources and services to Venezuelan migrants reflects mechanisms of regionalization as discussed by Lavenex and Piper (2021). The interplay of stakeholders in migration governance including those from above (state), those from below (civil society), and those from beyond (regions) is clearly evidenced in the RMRP Caribbean as civil society efforts ‘feed regional specificities’ and bring region-specific, and in this case small statespecific, issues to the attention of international organizations (i.e. Salù pa Tur, TTVSOLNET). In this way, civil society efforts focus on migrants’ lived experiences in contrast to statedominated managerial approaches (see Rother and Piper, 2015). This focus on migrants’ lived experiences speaks to power dynamics in global migration governance as it pertains to ‘invited’ and ‘invented’ spaces (Rother 2022; Gaventa, 2006). As exemplified in advocacy-oriented efforts, such as those of FCVR in Aruba and VENEX in Curaçao, invented spaces readily address the needs and challenges of migrants, whereas invited spaces (i.e. FCVR and UNHCR movie screenings and the VENEX and ILO survey) place civil society actors at the ‘outside-inside’ nexus whereby civil society actors are ‘guests rather than hosts’ (Rother, 2022). This is critical in regards to the generally limited political engagement of civil society in policymaking, implementation and evaluation in the context of Venezuelan migrants in the Caribbean. Whether it concerns funding or political engagement, the case study analysis of the RMRP Caribbean raises important questions about agency, representation and accountability in global migration governance, especially for small states which often report the largest per capita 171

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migrant populations (i.e. Aruba and Curaçao). Indeed, agency, representation and accountability constitute contested aspects in discourse on the role of civil society in global migration governance as shown in the discussion of multi-level governance, regionalization, and ‘invented’ and ‘invited’ spaces. Through the exploration of specific civil society efforts in Trinidad and Tobago, Guyana, Aruba, and Curaçao, the chapter demonstrates that although civil society is a key partner in the RMRP Caribbean by providing essential resources and services to Venezuelan migrants, civil society efforts often remain overlooked. These emerging patterns and lessons must be considered in other contexts of migration to small islands such as in Malta, Cyprus, Lampedusa and the Canary Islands, for example, as civil society actors in small states not only engage in global migration governance, but also function within regional and national structures on migration. Amid the ongoing humanitarian situation in Venezuela, resulting in the second largest human mobility crisis in the world, surpassed only by the Syrian Arab Republic, what may be conceived of as ‘unexpected’ transit and destination countries that are small states such as Trinidad and Tobago, Guyana, Aruba, and Curaçao, deserve further attention. This attention must come in the form of scholarly inquiry into funding streams of global and regional response plans that govern operational activities of civil society as well as into political engagement of migrant communities and civil society actors in these countries. Some examples that warrant further exploration include the 2021–2024 Regional Migrant Response Plan for the Horn of Africa and Yemen, including the small state of Djibouti, as well as spaces for political engagement such as the International Migration Review Forum (2022) and the upcoming Global Refugee Forum (2023).

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12 Shrinking spaces for migrant-support CSOs in Malta, Cyprus and Slovenia From the refugee crisis to the pandemic Dominik Kalweit and William Grech

Introduction This chapter explores to what extent spaces for civil society organizations (CSOs) engaged in migrant support in Malta, Cyprus and Slovenia have shrunk in recent years. Organizations active in small southern European Union (EU) member states bordering the Mediterranean Sea are increasingly facing operational challenges in offering migrant support. The three countries on which this chapter focuses, namely Malta, Cyprus and Slovenia, are EU member states that acceded to the Union in 2004. They share a similar national political agenda-setting. Since their accession, successive governments have consistently tended to portray the two Mediterranean islands as being under constant pressure, beyond their capacities (Mainwaring, 2014). Slovenia, on the other hand, in line with other Balkan countries (although to a lesser extent), can be considered a transit country. This was certainly its role in 2015 during the sudden increase in arrivals of forced migrants and asylum seekers following the escalation of the two civil wars in the Syrian Arab Republic and Libya (Pastore, 2017). For the purpose of this research, between January and February 2022 semi-structured in-depth interviews1 were held virtually with six representatives of non-governmental organizations (NGOs) working in migrant support, specifically assisting asylum seekers and refugees, including failed asylum seekers.2 A representative from two organizations from each of the three countries under examination (Cyprus, Malta and Slovenia) was interviewed. Each interview lasted approximately one hour and was followed up by email correspondence for clarification purposes. The interviewees were selected on the basis of their experience and expertise in providing assistance to migrants, as well as their advocacy at the national and international level. All interviewees mainly work within their respective national context, network with other migrant support NGOs in their country and collaborate with other European or regional organizations. One of the interviewees did not want to reveal their identity, and therefore their name was replaced by a pseudonym and the name of their organization has not been included. Questions

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related to interviewees’ work and role within their respective organizations; the impact of both the so-called refugee crisis of 2015 and 2016 and the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020 on their work and beneficiaries; the sociopolitical as well as the funding context regarding their work in migration; and their views on shrinking civil society spaces in their respective home countries and in Europe generally. The first section summarizes and highlights the main insights already published in the relevant literature, especially in terms of the narratives set out by national governments as part of building their position within the debate on migration at the European level. It examines four decades of European attempts to develop common approaches and standards for immigration. Finally, it analyses the reaction to the 2015–2016 political crisis on the management of migration flows triggered mainly by the civil wars in Libya and Syria. The next section looks at the characteristics that are specific to CSOs in small states that work with migrants and asylum seekers, as identified by the interviewees, and how they affect their operations. The two crises under focus are then analysed in the fourth section, while the next section asks whether and how the operations of the organizations being interviewed have been impacted by these crises. The last two sections look at the shrinking space of NGOs offering support to migrants and the political and societal discourse about migration.

Background The constraints affecting CSOs in delivering their services to asylum seekers and migrants is one of the indirect consequences ensuing from an extremely complex political dynamic that has been played out at different governance levels – European, multi-regional, national and local – over several decades. The shrinking of civil society space may not necessarily be a direct activity by national governments specifically restricting diverse opinions, the right of association or ways of supporting the most vulnerable within society. There might also be indirect, sometimes undesired or unsought, effects stemming from political decisions taken at higher levels that eventually have inevitable consequences. The absence of intent does not detract from the effect of these consequences. However, it is crucial to also determine causality in such social and political analysis. It is in this vein that this section will attempt to frame succinctly the main elements that have contributed to the current situation and have therefore compounded the effects against which CSOs are now facing a challenging (if not hostile) environment. The migration and asylum crisis that reached its apex during 2015 and 2016 has its roots in a European context that stretches back to the 1980s. The European integration process towards a common migration regulatory framework that resulted in the Schengen and Dublin conventions betrayed a fundamentally defensive approach when it was subjected to uneven and unbalanced distribution of arrivals, transits and asylum applications in 2015 (Pastore, 2017). The fact that the EU does not provide opportunities for migrants to enter the bloc via regular means essentially compounds the challenges and responsibilities faced by peripheral states (Mainwaring, 2012). Moreover, the crisis has exposed the weaknesses of the Schengen Agreement as it reached breaking point owing to the pressure exerted by porous external borders and national knee-jerk reactions to protect internal borders (Mezele et al., 2016). In the European context, the position adopted by Malta and Cyprus is a direct consequence of a number of factors: (i) they are small island states; (ii) they are positioned on a transitory route that has experienced an increase in irregular migration and related asylum applications; and (iii) they are two of the three smallest EU member states and both are located on the very periphery of the EU’s external borders. Similarly, Slovenia’s suspension of the Schengen provisions leading to the sealing of its southern border was a reaction to Germany’s reintroduction 175

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of controls at the border with Austria as well as Greece’s poor border management (Pastore, 2017). Small states are characterized by limited resources and personnel which, in the case of migration, restricts their ability to absorb migrants. It also means that they have very limited material power when negotiating within international or multilateral structures and fora. Malta and Cyprus have underlined their small size in an attempt to convince the EU that they are carrying an exceptionally ‘disproportionate burden’ (Mainwaring, 2014). Some of the literature has shown how this constructed narrative has shaped migration and integration policies at the national as well as the regional level in both countries, at times also as a concerted effort (Mainwaring, 2014). In fact, detention as a deterrent and the championing of so-called burdensharing agreements through the relocation of migrants within Europe and exemption from the Dublin Regulation have all been at the very core of the island states’ request to include a wider definition of solidarity. In practice, solidarity would take the shape of support that would go beyond financial transfers and include the transfer of people within the Union. Crucially, the two island states have both deployed the image of being overwhelmed by irregular migration, repeatedly and consistently painting a crisis of abnormal proportions in order to attract the attention of the EU. This strategy has provided mixed results as some states continue to oppose relocation arguing that it would act as a pull factor for irregular migrants. Furthermore, although the decision to establish the European Asylum Support Office (now known as the European Union Agency for Asylum) in Malta certainly points towards the success of the advocacy efforts by the Maltese government, it also exposes its interest in maintaining the image of being overwhelmed (Mainwaring, 2012). There are a number of other factors that contribute to the lack of options available to migrants, especially asylum seekers, in terms of mobility once they reach these two island states. Both states have implemented a policy of mandatory and preventive detention upon arrival with (frequently poor) reception conditions as a (dubitable) deterrent. This includes ‘first reception at the external border [which] consists of a series of impersonal, bureaucratic, and securitized procedures often framed in a crisis and/or emergency culture’ (DeBono, 2019, p. 341), which, other than through the actions of civil society actors, lacks any notion of solidarity or hospitality. The sustained use of the crisis discourse, perpetuated by a humanitarian approach, combined with the continued focus on the securitization of borders and an emphasis on halting migration flows, certainly detracts from resources and efforts that could be allocated towards and invested in facilitating and supporting the social and economic inclusion of migrants. Moreover, strict control of a border is a costly exercise that, arguably, diverts financial investment from being directed at better reception and eventually also those measures that would facilitate social inclusion for the new arrivals. More pointedly, this type of migration governance is ultimately an exercise in defining who can access the right to movement and settlement (Mainwaring, 2011). In this sense, border control has in some cases been further externalized by the EU by shifting it to countries of transit and origin (Mainwaring, 2012). This is yet another deterrent being deployed at the expense of the people moving across the borders and effectively reduces the rights and opportunities of asylum seekers and migrants crossing borders irregularly (Mainwaring, 2011). Malta and Cyprus were also demanding an ambitious exception to the Long-Term Residents Directive that would facilitate the right to move of beneficiaries of international protection (Mainwaring, 2012). Once again, this seems to indicate a reluctance of these two island states to invest further efforts into integration processes. The rhetorical criminalization of asylum seekers has roots that go back almost two decades prior to mid-2015. The 1997 Amsterdam Treaty started off as an attempt to review the framework of migrant integration through a more positive narrative and to promote a more liberal approach 176

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towards a comprehensive European policy. The necessary political consensus came about at a time when almost all the EU member states had centre-left government majorities during the same period (Pastore, 2017). Other shifts in the rhetoric followed, not only within EU structures but also at the United Nations (UN) and the World Bank. These institutions attempted to reframe migration in a positivistic manner. However, their top-down and technocratic approach failed to prise it away from the securitization perspective or to reshape public opinion (Pastore, 2017). Another damning factor brought forward by a growing body of research is the gap that exists between European policy responses and the evidence emanating from the migration processes on the ground. (BaldwinEdwards et al., 2019). Fast forward to the 2015 watershed, the contrast in mood is most drastic as ‘rightwing populists and nationalists blamed Merkel’s government for allowing European societies to be “over-run” by Muslim refugees from “archaic” societies’ (Rodriguez, 2018, p. 17). Uncontrolled migration was thus summarily linked to ruptured social cohesion (Da-Boi, 2021). Moreover, surges in migration have consistently been framed in terms of natural forces and disasters beyond the control of governments. Such a simple narrative provides fertile soil for reinforcing ‘otherness’ and the criminalization of asylum seekers (Žagar, 2018). Presented with such an overwhelmingly negative picture, it is hardly surprising that public opinion would reject the idea of solidarity put forward by CSOs in support of the integration and inclusion of asylum seekers and migrants.

Characteristics of small state NGOs working in the fields of migration and asylum Perhaps the most obvious characteristic of small EU member state NGOs is their proximity and familiarity to the community within which they are set up and operate, offering pathways for easier networking. However, when working in the challenging fields of migration and asylum, moreover with limited resources, collaboration is not merely considered an opportunity but also a necessity. As Neil Falzon, director of the aditus foundation3 in Malta puts it, Although Malta is, in fact, a tiny [EU] member state, in terms of the migration scenario – the migration concerns, the challenges, the relative numbers, etc. – Malta still faces the same kind of challenges and has the same kind of obligations as the larger member states … We are a handful of NGOs – some of us providing legal, other social, other education services – dealing with this long list of issues, which we have to deal with as broadly as possible. Meaning, whereas in larger member states you have NGOs that can specialize and focus on just one aspect of the asylum or migration regime, we find ourselves having to do everything, covering the A to Z. We are active in rescue at sea, in citizenship, in detention, in the asylum procedure. We have to be active in everything because there simply is nobody else. While the diverse facets of working in the field in a small state offer civil society ‘the bigger picture’ concerning migration and the life of migrants, as Falzon adds, ‘at the same time, it is draining. We do not have the resources and energy to deal with everything all the time’. The lack of resources may be a factor for the reluctance of some organizations to network, after all. Ajarra Killye (pseudonym – hereafter marked with an asterisk) is a manager for a Maltese NGO that provides integration support to migrants, including asylum seekers and refugees, focusing on education and cultural orientation. She believes that collaboration ‘does not happen, in reality … Working with migrants from Africa, I have the feeling that very little is being done’. Annagrace Messa, integration adviser at the Cyprus Refugee Council,4 agrees that capacities are limited. As is the case for CSOs working in migration and asylum in Slovenia and Malta, 177

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‘most NGOs in Cyprus do not receive structural funding, for example in terms of their operational expenses, in comparison to some other Western European countries’. The second interviewee from Cyprus, Etinosa Erevbenagie Johnbull, managing director of Generation for Change Cyprus,5 agrees that ‘this can lead to antagonism, due to, of course, limited opportunities, such as funds for NGOs who desperately rely on those’. Max Zimani, founder and director of Zavod Global6 in Slovenia, highlights another pertinent dichotomous characteristic of small states’ civil society working in migration and asylum: We are bound to be much more of grassroots’ organisations, focusing on … real problems on the ground, but we also really have to collaborate on an international level much more than some larger organizations. That is how we survive. The latter statement refers to NGOs’ need to develop and maintain EU-level networks in order to partner in applications for projects funded by the European Commission (EC), for which small EU member state CSOs largely do not have the financial and administrative capacity to apply as a lead organization. On an EU level, these organizations cannot play the same role as big organizations … The EU has found a way of nicely discriminating against us simply because of the size. Due to financial and human capacity, they exclude you. These factors notwithstanding, all the organizations interviewed rely heavily on funding from Brussels, for which they apply either centrally or through the respective managing authorities at the national level. National funding is either not available, or very limited, or administratively burdensome to manage. Besides funding matters, EU-level connections with other CSOs and networks also strengthen the advocacy capacities of small member state organizations, both nationally and internationally. Urša Regvar, a lawyer at the Pravno-informacijski center nevladnih organizacij (PIC – Legal Centre for the Protection of Human Rights and the Environment)7 confirms that ‘as an NGO in Slovenia, you have to do both. You have to do advocacy and activities on a national level, but also with other countries, and then also at European Union level, because there is no organization that could do just one thing’.

Two major impacts affecting refugees The impact of the ‘refugee crisis’ The so-called refugee crisis of 2015 and 2016 had a series of repercussions on migrants seeking asylum in the EU, including in Malta, Cyprus and Slovenia, as well as on NGOs that support refugees. It triggered responses from governments and the general public that, for the most part, were at best concerned or at worst populist and negative. All the interviewees agree that the events of 2015 and 2016 have led to worsening perceptions of asylum seekers and refugees. As Ajarra Killye* put it, they made people more vocal about migration: ‘even those who you did not expect it from, and it creates a lot of suffering in the lives of people’. She added, ‘people are unleashed’. Referencing Cyprus’s distinct characteristic of being a divided country, Annagrace Messa from the Cyprus Refugee Council believes that Cypriot public opinion links asylum and migration issues to the situation in Türkiye (Turkey), which since 2014 has been host to the world’s largest 178

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refugee population8 and which – in turn – is closely tied to Northern Cyprus. However, she also emphasizes that the crisis mobilized solidarity efforts from the public: ‘we see that there is a good number of citizens who support refugees and who are publicly declaring their support, participating in voluntary activities, providing donations’. On the other hand, Max Zimani from the Slovenian organization Zavod Global noted resistance at the local level: ‘For example, some local authorities declared that they did not want a migrant centre in their own community’. Some of the interviewees highlight the relationality and intersectionality of public opinion, media tonality and political discourse. Urša Regvar from the Legal Centre for the Protection of Human Rights and the Environment in Slovenia noticed a significant change in public and policy response ‘in 2015, not at the start of the so-called refugee crisis, but in the middle of it, when media reports about it turned negative. At first, it was all very positive, “we need to help the people”’. Zimani agrees that ‘generally, migrants are portrayed as dirty, or not clean, or as bringing diseases. And of course, the never-ending story that “if they do settle, they will get your job”’. The increasingly polarized view of migration was reflected in and possibly stimulated by the European political rhetoric of the time. It allowed political decision-makers to garner support for a drastic response, which, according to Neil Falzon from aditus foundation in Malta, ‘was to reinforce borders even more and to be more restrictive in asylum … We have started to see more the use of detention, more restrictions at the border, more difficult asylum procedures, more challenges in integration’. Although Malta was only marginally affected by the increase in the number of asylum seekers in Europe in 2015 and 2016, Falzon adds that ‘the European vibe affected the way the government responded here’. Falzon’s view is somewhat mirrored by Regvar who points out that since 2016, Slovenia’s approach to migration at the EU level has changed and is often being aligned with right-wing political leaders such as Hungary’s Prime Minister Viktor Orbán. ‘One of the biggest changes that happened in 2016 is that Slovenia started with this pushback practice’, explains Regvar, referring to the illegal forceful return of asylum seekers to Croatia by Slovenian border authorities. All the interviewees agree that the situation has not improved since the so-called refugee crisis. Regvar states that ‘after 2016, migration became the focus point of politics, when it came to any kind of election’. The same can be said of Cyprus, where, according to Messa, during national elections many politicians use ‘the migration issue as their selling point, with the usual negative connotations associated with it’. The events of 2015 and 2016 and the resulting political shift to the right and populist approaches towards migration policy had repercussions for CSOs. Zimani notes that, prior to the refugee crisis, ‘as a community, migrants were much better organized’, and that the patterns of work by NGOs seem to have changed from activism to advocacy. Similarly, ‘2015 brought a backlash in Slovenian politics, whereby today we have policies, or rather politics, which are much, much more restrictive towards migration or migrants’. In relation to service provision, according to Messa, ‘there has been an increase in terms of numbers of beneficiaries requiring support, which of course has increased our workload’. Falzon adds that not only has the number of asylum seekers increased, but also ‘[it] has diversified their needs and therefore impacted on the sector’s work’, which, according to him, has also become more challenged by the political sphere. The refugee crisis ‘marked, in a way, the beginning of more tightening on our work from the state’.

The impact of the COVID-19 Pandemic The first confirmed cases of the highly transmissible and pathogenic coronavirus (SARS-CoV-2) were recorded on 10, 12 and 15 March 2020 in Slovenia, Malta and Cyprus, respectively. In addition 179

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to health repercussions, the ongoing pandemic has had, and continues to have, serious financial repercussions, particularly, as Etinosa Erevbenagie-Johnbull from Generation for Change CY in Cyprus, aptly puts it, on people of low socio-economic status, including asylum seekers and refugees: Everybody has been affected economically, financially, by the COVID-19 pandemic. But we recognize that asylum seekers, domestic migrant workers and refugees are disproportionately affected, due to the fact that they are engaged in low-paid jobs and … socalled low-skilled jobs, where employers can actually replace them any time they want, with no security. So, most of them have been fired from their jobs, or they have been forced to work a large amount of hours for low compensation. Asylum seekers in Cyprus, as opposed to those accorded refugee or subsidiary protection status, have restricted access to the labour market, in that they are only permitted to work in certain sectors and only from one month after they have submitted their application for international protection. Those who were engaged in sectors related to tourism and hospitality were most at risk of unemployment, since those sectors had been disproportionately affected by the COVID-19 pandemic. Neil Falzon from aditus foundation adds that several asylum seekers were made redundant, because they were not working legally and their employers were not given the employment assistance offered by the Maltese government, as only legally registered employment was eligible for it. In addition, in May 2021, the Maltese government had announced changes to the policy on access to employment by asylum seekers, which have made it more challenging to access the labour market for those coming from government-declared safe countries, as well as for those whose application for protection has failed. On 11 June, the Malta Refugee Council, spearheaded by aditus foundation, issued its strong objections to the new policy, stating that: It is clear that this decision will deprive hundreds of people, including families, of the income necessary to secure a minimum level of human dignity and self-reliance. Already vulnerable to labour exploitation, including wages far below the minimum wage, asylum seekers and failed asylum seekers will be pushed further into the dark as they will inevitably clutch at any opportunity to secure basics such as shelter, food and water, clothing, services and transport in order to survive. In Slovenia, asylum seekers have free access to the labour market nine months after lodging their application. However, as PIC (2020) notes: In practice, asylum seekers face systematic and practical obstacles when searching for work and employment such as the language barrier, cultural differences, lack of certificates bringing evidence of education, lack of work experience, health problems, discrimination, structural imbalances in the labour market and lack of employers’ trust. Challenges in accessing and retaining stable, fair paid work have been exacerbated during the COVID-19 pandemic, which has resulted in a myriad of other problems for asylum seekers and refugees, and particularly those who are newly arrived. Those who had to apply for or renew their documentation during lockdown found that the authorities’ doors were closed to them. As Falzon notes, ‘they had difficulties renewing documents when government offices had not yet [put in place] systems for renewing documents online. So many people did not know what to do’. 180

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Having lost their source of income, many asylum seekers were at risk of, or indeed experienced, homelessness, which exacerbated associated challenges such as poor mental health, substance addiction and an overall decline in personal wellbeing. In Cyprus, in late 2020, a group of approximately 120 asylum seekers, including children, slept rough for over two weeks outside the Nicosia immigration office, where they were provided with emergency assistance by Generation for Change CY and other similar organizations before the government placed them into the Pournara Emergency Reception Centre in Kokkinotrimithia. ErevbenagieJohnbull describes how the centre ‘has turned from a reception camp to a detention camp’. In fact, the temporary closure of overcrowded open centres for asylum seekers, and inaccessibility to CSOs, was another concern put forward by the interviewees. An increased number of asylum seekers and refugees expressed their wish to some of the interviewees that they wanted to travel to another country, due to the very challenging situations experienced in their current host countries. Of course, border closures due to the pandemic made this largely impossible. As Zimani notes, ‘essentially, some of their worst nightmares are happening in front of their eyes. They are essentially closed here, they can’t even move. And yet, they don’t really feel too welcome’. Ajarra Killye* recalls how African beneficiaries of her organization’s services expressed their concerns about the lack of information and support: You had those who had to apply for the house, to register the rent. You had those who had to apply for the children who go to school. They did not know where to go and what to do. They did not have the vaccine, so they had to wait for everything, for the Maltese, for the Europeans’.

The work of CSOs during the pandemic As in many other sectors, all the interviewed organizations had to adjust their modi operandi. For example, Zimani remarks that ‘Zavod cannot work outside the way it used to. We work with migrants through Zoom, which is inadequate, however’. Virtual service provision proved difficult when needing the assistance of cultural mediators or interpreters. For this reason, some organizations continued their operations mostly in person, except during the first lockdown period in early 2020, which of course bore its risks, as Urša Regvar explained: ‘Most of us had COVID at some point, because you need to carry on, you need to do the counselling, you cannot stop just because it is COVID’. The changed needs of service beneficiaries, which often were not (or only belatedly) addressed by governments, meant that CSOs had to provide emergency assistance. For example, during the early months of the pandemic, aditus foundation’s work shifted from providing legal services to offering material support and linking people with other social services, such as food banks or rental assistance schemes. In 2021, Generation for Change CY prepared and distributed over 800 aid packages to families at risk of destitution in Cyprus, many of whom were asylum seekers and refugees. In collaboration with the UN High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), the UN agency mandated to aid and protect refugees, the interviewed CSOs also disseminated up-todate information about restrictions put in place to curb the spread of the pandemic which they translated into various languages. As Messa points out, ‘we made a huge effort to inform beneficiary communities … because there were fines, if one did not abide by the protocols, which our beneficiaries could not afford in the first place’. In all the countries under study, the interviewed CSOs and their partners collaborated with their respective governments to ensure that asylum seekers and refugees were able to access the 181

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COVID-19 vaccine. This proved to be challenging at the beginning of the roll-out of vaccination programmes. In the case of Malta, for example, people were required to have an identification document number to apply to have a vaccination, which asylum seekers did not have. In the case of Slovenia, Regvar noted that the government used restrictions imposed as a result of the pandemic to clamp down on civil society, by preventing any kind of protest, irrespective of whether they were focusing on COVID-19 measures, government corruption or other issues. Interviewees also remarked on positive outcomes from the pandemic. Ajarra Killye’s* organization had advised asylum seekers who had lost their jobs to take the opportunity to enhance their digital skills. Generation for Change CY, in fact, noted that between 80 per cent and 90 per cent of the 330 beneficiaries of its virtual Greek and English language courses were able to adjust to the new, digital reality. This notwithstanding, Erevbenagie-Johnbull acknowledged associated challenges. For example, internet access and electricity supply in refugee camps was and remains very limited, especially in view of high occupancy, for which language class access was possible only for students who lived in the community. Messa also noted a rise in employment opportunities in food retail, with supermarkets that were in higher demand during the pandemic asking the Cyprus Refugee Council to facilitate access to asylum seekers and refugee workers.

Migrant support NGOs’ operational and financial capacities The gaps in social assistance for asylum seekers and refugees are linked to a number of factors. In the case of Malta, Neil Falzon acknowledges that being a small state equates to ‘the capacity of government [being] small, it is limited, in terms of numbers … there are just a few people’. Interviewees in all three countries agree that the shortfalls of their respective governments are, however, intentional: ‘very intentional legal and policy measures to make life miserable for many people’, Falzon adds. Ajarra Killye* agrees, pointing out that working with African asylum seekers ‘requires that they are culturally aware concerning the people they are working with … This is nowhere in the government’s plans … It is intentional. They just do not want to do it’. The lack of competence, according to Falzon, makes it challenging for expert NGOs to address complex and technical matters related to asylum and migration, an issue which is not necessarily related to capacities, but frequently to cronyism: If you look at the Ministry [for Home Affairs, National Security and Law Enforcement] and all the entities and units within it, and you see how they have been populated by those who are friendly with the government but not necessarily technical experts in the issue, then we are faced with people who have no idea what they have to do in terms of their legal obligations or what is a sound good policy. So we have bad practices because they are built upon very bad policies and laws. As outlined earlier, this has implications for the integration of asylum seekers and other migrants. All governments resort to illegal detention regimes, which in the case of Malta even included detention ‘at sea aboard cruise boats which were rented by the Government of Malta to detain irregular migrants crossing at sea during the beginning of the pandemic’ (Briguglio, 2022, p. 320). Open centres are overcrowded and ill equipped, and access to fair employment is difficult, leading to further social and economic challenges. In the case of Malta and Slovenia, the interviewees also pointed to illegal pushback practices by their governments, to Libya and Croatia, respectively. 182

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These structural problems have strained the capacities of all the interviewed NGOs. Annagrace Messa notes that ‘there needs to be a holistic addressing of the gaps in order to fill them, and, definitely, civil society organizations cannot do that by themselves’. Interviewees had mixed views about the accessibility of funding required to provide their services. According to Messa and Falzon, following the global financial crisis of 2008, funding opportunities in the field of migration have increased in recent years. However, Messa also notes that competition to access such funds has become fiercer, which, in the Cypriot context, she relates to the increasing number of CSOs working in the sector. Funding for most of the interviewed organizations comes primarily from the EC, notably the Asylum, Migration and Integration Fund (AMIF) and Erasmus+ programmes, as well as through implementing partnership agreements with UNHCR. None of the interviewed organizations receive significant, if any, financial support from their respective governments. Messa further points out that the lack of structural funding (as opposed to project funding) makes the situation of NGOs more challenging. In the case of Cyprus, ‘the majority of such funding … goes to charities, such as cancer associations or associations focusing on children with disabilities’. Etinosa Erevbenagie-Johnbull, whose organization was established relatively recently in 2019, currently operates voluntarily and is in the process of accessing funding for the first time, states that most funding goes to larger organizations, which makes it difficult for newer, smaller organizations. Generation for Change CY is seeking funding from the EC, which it deems more sustainable when compared to national funding. However, as was pointed out by Max Zimani earlier, NGOs from small states require international networks and strong partner organizations with the capacity to lead EC project applications, given their own limited financial and administrative capacities. His organization, Zavod Global, based in Ljubljana, focuses on migrant integration through global learning and awareness raising activities. The Slovenian government has recently decided to cease providing funding for global education initiatives, other than providing co-financing for EC-funded projects, which has led to increased challenges for Zimani’s organization. In his view, ‘It is a political decision. … There is a general issue between the Slovenian government and NGOs, especially those working on global education, because these are organizations that are acting as watchdogs, and they are not necessarily producing reports that the government likes. This has been stated several times by politicians who said that we should de-fund these organizations. Urša Regvar is concerned about EC funding that is managed through national authorities, as it is the government’s decision how the priorities of these funding programmes are being shaped. Under the Slovenian government that ran until May 2022, her organization, PIC, had lost access to AMIF funding. This would have forced them to discontinue their representation work, if it was not for an implementing partnership agreement with UNHCR.

The political and societal discourse about migration All interviewees felt that the political, public and, to some extent, media discourse concerning migration has changed for the worse since the so-called refugee crisis, and has had negative repercussions on asylum seekers and refugees as well as on CSOs that support migrants. As Etinosa Erevbenagie-Johnbull puts it, ‘there is a spread of fear of migrants actually decreasing the cultural, economic and, of course, the demographic value and character of Cyprus’. Similar rhetoric, which criminalizes and dehumanizes migrants, has been observed by interviewees in Malta and Slovenia. Neil Falzon notes that: 183

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The impact on migrants is very severe. From the very beginning, they are not acknowledged as people, which not only means that their rights are being violated on a regular basis, but it also means that … they are obviously not involved at any stage of the decisions about their own lives. This is further exacerbated by diasporas being relatively weak, due to the small size of countries and the low number of foreigners, and that the vast majority of third country nationals are first generation immigrants and thus not very vocal. For example, Ajarra Killye* remarks that ‘there is no strong African diaspora in Malta that can speak loudly’, adding that ‘the solution can only come from the people who suffer’. Having no control over political decisions that affect their lives can have a devastating impact on asylum seekers and migrants. ‘In many cases, this leads to mental health problems … [a] high number of people trying to leave the country, because life is just unbearable, homelessness, abuse of alcohol and drugs’, according to Falzon. ErevbenagieJohnbull considers that governments’ tactics concerning integration structures, or rather the lack thereof, ‘would mostly focus on exclusion and division, rather than creating appropriate structures that would actually empower and facilitate the integration of individuals into society’. While migration is a prominent topic that has been featuring in all of the countries’ election campaigns during the past few years, Falzon notes that, recently, it has become a non-issue in the Maltese political discourse, and that it is civil society’s role to keep it on the public agenda. Urša Regvar positively notes that some media outlets are pro-migration, actively seeking to include voices of migrants themselves. In fact, Ajarra Killye’s* organization is one of a few in Malta that supports migrants in putting across their perspective. Aware of many stories of African migrants in Malta, she notices that ‘when they come to Europe, [they] believe that they have reached an “El Dorado” – the land of freedom, of human rights, where they will be supported. … There is anger that they are being cheated, and then frustration that they cannot do anything’.

The shrinking space of migrant support NGOs As was pointed out by the interviewees, increasing challenges faced by asylum seekers and refugees are not being addressed by governments, intentionally or due to a lack of capacity, and NGOs are trying to bridge the gaps. Governments do not provide national funding for these services, other than contributing to the co-financing requirements of projects funded by the EC. Furthermore, NGOs in Cyprus, Malta and Slovenia do not have access to structural funding, for which they need to develop capacities and networks that enable them to apply for international funding, such as from the EC or UN programmes. While Annagrace Messa does not associate funding issues with the political encroachment of civil society space, Urša Regvar is convinced that ‘the lack of funding is shrinking civil society space to the extent that people are not able to continue their activities’. In addition, Ajarra Killye* notes that administrative requirements stipulated by the Maltese government vis-à-vis annual returns are too burdensome for small CSOs, or, as they are legally defined in Malta, voluntary organisations (VOs), which contributes to the governments’ infringement on civil society space in that it limits their capacities to fulfil their raison d’être. Etinosa Erevbenagie-Johnbull, whose organization is the youngest of those interviewed and is in the process of applying for funding for its first large-scale project, is a bit more reserved: ‘I do not know about shrinking, because my experience is limited. However, I would say not expanding, and definitely not encouraging’. 184

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The increased need for the provision of a wide range of services, including emergency assistance programmes delivered during the pandemic, coupled with the capacities required to address the organizations’ financial ‘survival’ through accessing international financing, translates into a high volume of work that leaves little time for civil society to engage in advocacy and fulfil its role as a watchdog over policymaking and implementation. Max Zimani emphasizes the relevance of this function of civil society: By law, the asylum process is supposed to be instituted. But in reality we have a situation where asylum seekers come to Slovenia, but then they send them back to Croatia, which then sends them back to Bosnia and Herzegovina, where they are physically abused. This has been documented, and the NGOs that have reported on it have become very unpopular with the government. This issue becomes more problematic when decision-makers feel that their hard stance against migrants is supported by the public, and that the latter is not in favour of the work of civil society. Falzon notes that ‘the public does not understand the role of civil society, if not to distribute material supplies’, adding that ‘culturally, Maltese people are not appreciative of the idea of having a watchdog’, for which civil society is pressured to constantly prove the need for its own existence. Messa emphasizes how NGOs have become more cautious due to the negative political and public discourse, which ‘has made us much more careful in terms of how we portray our opinions, how we do our interventions and advocacy’. Interviewees also referred to their decreased ability to provide expert advice and constructive criticism to government, which is considered an important role for NGOs in the field of asylum and migration, and for civil society in general. Zimani points out that ‘the general feeling is that the government is not listening to the NGO sector, at least not as much as they used to’. On the same issue, Falzon adds that ‘it is like we do not exist, and it is not just us’, referring to other civil society sectors and what he calls the government’s ‘closed-doorapproach’, which ‘basically shuts us out from any form of dialogue and any possibility from addressing the structural problems, let alone working on solutions’. In his view, this adds to feelings of anxiety and exhaustion which Falzon is not only witnessing in his own organization, but also in other Maltese migrant support NGOs. ‘Being faced by closed doors continuously, terrible stories on a daily basis, the impossibility to bring about effective change takes its toll on us as individuals’. If governments remain silent it does not mean that they do not take note of NGOs’ work, however. ‘Although the government behaves as if we do not exist, internally they behave very much like we exist, in that they evidently do not appreciate our presence’. Falzon continues by making a serious allegation: ‘We suspect that, sometimes, our clients are being maltreated [by the government] because they are our clients. We have no proof of this, but we see a pattern sometimes’. Regvar reports on another form of state action which may be considered as retaliation, or at least intimidation. In both 2019 and 2020, first her organization PIC and then the organization’s director have been under criminal procedures, accused of being migrant smugglers. Both procedures were dismissed. Shrinking spaces are not only felt by NGOs working in the field of migration. Regvar explains that, in Slovenia, ‘a lot of NGOs, especially those working in the field of culture, have lost funding completely’. She goes on by pointing out another aspect that she considers as shrinking civil society space, and which has not been expressed by interviewees in either Cyprus or Malta: In recent years, the Slovenian government has been revoking NGOs’ access 185

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to shared, free-of-charge office spaces which had been made available to CSOs. These spaces allowed grassroots organizations and professionalized NGOs to engage in collaborative work, joint advocacy and activism, while also decreasing their overhead costs significantly. In fact, the Tovarna Rog Squat, which had hosted a number of grassroots organizations in the centre of Ljubljana, had already been demolished by the government. By the time of the interview with Regvar in early February 2022, the Slovenian government had also been planning to evict NGOs from the building in Metelkova City, where Regvar’s organization PIC and other organizations have their offices. The government, according to Regvar, is punishing any form of protest or opposition by civil society ‘with the intention to make the whole population less problematic for the government’. The challenges experienced by civil society have been exacerbated by the toxic political, media and public discourse concerning migration that has worsened with the so-called refugee crisis, which wrongfully criminalizes asylum seekers and accuses migrant support NGOs of ‘aiding and abetting’, impeding their capacities to fulfil their missions, to effectively advocate for their clients’ rights and to prosper as valuable contributors for social justice.

Conclusion The findings have shown that CSOs in small states do seem to share some peculiarities, mostly relating to the context within which they operate (and therefore to the small size of the state and the relative society). Unlike in medium and large states there is a tendency to find only a very few – if any – large organizations. The small size of such organizations limits their financial and administrative capacity, which in turn restricts the funding opportunities available to these small organizations. The interviewees seem to be in agreement that networking at both the national as well as the regional and international level is fundamental in order to improve efficiency in operations and advocacy. However, this means that already limited resources are stretched even more thinly. Such a situation in many ways mirrors the challenges faced by small states as they still have to cover the same sectors of public administration and international relations as do larger ones, even though they tend to have fewer financial and human resources. Although, at face value, the so-called refugee crisis did not bring about a reduction in access to operational funding per se, organizations in the three countries under study have certainly not seen any substantial increase either. The denouncement of the failures in policy and implementation of migration measures by the EU and its member states has been amply assessed. The public and media reaction to the 2015 and 2016 events were, to a certain extent, predictable given the dynamic that had developed in the previous decades. All interviewees have identified a worsening public and political environment in relation to their work with asylum seekers. More importantly, they have also shared a common perception of a retreating social net of protection towards migrants and asylum seekers. Such gaps worsened during the pandemic as governments and public administrations left it to the NGOs to find ways to meet the needs of asylum seekers and migrants hit hard by the inevitable economic downturn and health restrictions. Once again, such decisions by governments have the inevitable consequences on civil society as organizations are not supported in adapting to the new requirements. The picture that emerges highlights the resilience and adaptability of civil society in small states, notwithstanding their small size and limited resources. In relation to whether there is any clear relationship and causality between the after-effects of the European political crisis on migration and the dire environment within which migrant support NGOs operate is not clear-cut. This is mainly due to the fact that the deterioration had been slowly but steadily building up from previous years. From a social justice perspective, the 186

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testimony of the interviewees highlighting the (somewhat intentional) retraction of social welfare provided to vulnerable individuals and groups should be considered as a serious call for reflection as well as a timely occasion for stakeholders to acknowledge the failures identified by professionals working at grassroots level.

Notes 1 The interview questions are presented in the Appendix at the end of this chapter. 2 The selection of the interviewed organizations started off with a mapping of the sector in each country. The identified organizations are some of the key stakeholders and the most active NGOs in their respective countries. In each of the three countries, one of the two organizations is migrant-led, while the other is a leading actor in the field of legal assistance and advocacy. 3 aditus foundation is an NGO that was established in 2011 with a mission to monitor, report and act on access to human rights in Malta (see https://aditus.org.mt). 4 The Cyprus Refugee Council strives to safeguard, support and advocate for the rights of vulnerable groups in Cyprus, promoting their effective integration into the host society (see www.cyrefugee council.org). 5 Generation for Change CY is committed to positive social change through supporting vulnerable and marginalized communities – including but not limited to persons with disabilities, low socio-economic status, refugees, asylum seekers, LGBTQI, and any persons facing discrimination (see https://www. generationforchangecy.org). 6 The Institute for Global Learning and Project Development (Zavod Global) focuses on global learning, with the aim to encourage individuals and communities to engage in addressing the common challenges of humanity (see https://zavodglobal.org). 7 The Pravno-informacijski center nevladnih organizacij (PIC) aims to assist individuals and vulnerable groups in protecting their fundamental rights and to strengthen the influence of NGOs in the field of environmental protection and spatial planning through legal aid, advocacy and legal analysis (see http s://pic.si). 8 https://reliefweb.int/report/turkey/unhcr-turkey-fact-sheet-september-2021-entr#:~:text=Population %3A%20Turkey%20is%20host%20to,asylum%20seekers%20under%20international%20protection.

Appendix Interview questions 1 Please introduce yourself, your organization and your role within it. Why and how was the organization set up? 2 Do you see any particular characteristics for civil society in small states? 3 If working with migrants is not the sole remit of the organization: please go a bit in-depth regarding the work your organization is doing with and for migrants, and specifically asylum seekers, refugees and undocumented migrants. 4 Do you feel your work has changed since the so-called refugee crisis of 2015/2016? 5 If not answered in question 4: has the situation in your country changed vis-à-vis migrants, since the so-called refugee crisis of 2015/2016? 6 In relation to your work with migrants, could you please elaborate on the repercussions of the COVID-19 pandemic? 7 If not answered in question 6: has the situation in your country changed vis-à-vis migrants, since the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic? 8 Over the past few years, and perhaps specifically since 2015, has it become more challenging for your organization to access funding for its work with and for migrants? Have there been any changes or trends which you have observed?

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9 Do you have the operational capacities to respond to social gaps left unattended, intentionally or otherwise, by governments? 10 If not answered in question 9: in your view, does your country’s government provide adequate services to migrants, and if not, is that intentional or not? 11 How would you describe the political discourse concerning migrants and migrant support CSOs in your country? 12 What impact does the political discourse concerning migrants have on migrants? 13 What impact does the political discourse concerning the work of organizations such as yours have on you and your organization? 14 Regarding the key term ‘shrinking civil society space’: what is your view, in general, in your country and concerning your organization?

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13 The role of churches in regional cooperation and governance in the Caribbean Jessica Byron and Annita Montoute

Introduction Regional integration has been used as a strategy to overcome capacity challenges and pursue more effective governance in the Caribbean, which is characterized by many small island states. Despite the vast literature on Caribbean regional integration, the role of churches in advancing regional approaches to development remains underexplored. In addition, churches do not occupy a prominent position as non-governmental organizations (NGOs) in general discourses of civil society and, more specifically, they do not feature as a key civil society actor in regional integration, despite the possibility that churches can promote a common identity in a region and can strengthen regional integration. In the Caribbean, civil society development work was introduced by international missionary societies whose work spanned several jurisdictions. Today, many churches have regional frameworks to which they are tied and/or within which they conduct their work transnationally. The regional (and global) approach to churches is driven by their belief that they are part of a larger community of believers. Notwithstanding their divergent philosophies, they all believe that they have an obligation to think beyond their personal interests and to extend care to all of humanity. Churches fit Edwards’ (2019) definition of civil society as the third sector, in that they are among organizations which occupy the space between the state and the market. Regional integration has been a strategy for many states seeking more effective governance. In the case of small states, this approach has been important because of their size and more limited capacities. Civil society actors can complement and support states’ efforts to overcome their challenges. While there is a large volume of literature on regional cooperation, the focus is mainly on states and top-down notions of this process. Even among studies on non-state actor involvement in regional cooperation, the role of churches features less than is the case with other groups. Moreover, much of the existing research on religion in regional integration/cooperation has focused on the Christian faith in the European Union (EU) and Africa (Radebe, 2008; Chitando, 2004; Nelsen et al., 2001; Nelsen and Guth, 2015; Machaj and Białas-Zielin´ska, 2013; Giordano, 2014; Scherer, 2015; Foret, 2015).

DOI: 10.4324/9781003341536-16

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The role that churches play in advancing regionalism remains underexplored. Churches are often providers of, and channels for the delivery of social services at all levels. The chapter attempts to fill this void by seeking answers to the following questions: has the small size of Caribbean territories been a determining factor in driving the regionalizing tendencies evidenced in many Caribbean church denominations? In what ways do churches contribute to the development of national/regional identity and regional consciousness in Caribbean small states? Anchored in constructivist philosophy which views actors’ behaviours as socially constructed, the chapter stresses the role of churches in nurturing regional identity and consciousness, and by extension, regional integration/cooperation. Using the cases of the Caribbean Conference of Churches (CCC), the Roman Catholic and Protestant churches and data from primary and secondary sources, the chapter examines the contributions of churches in strengthening regional cooperation through their substantive work in the areas of migration, disaster management and humanitarian assistance.

Chapter outline The chapter proceeds as follows. First, a literature review is presented, relating to the definition of civil society, with churches as one of its key components, and the nature of civil society. This section also discusses the literature relating to the constructivist approach used in this chapter. The section that follows explains the methodology used in order to examine the contributions of churches in strengthening regional cooperation. The results of the Caribbean case studies are presented next. The concluding section discusses the implications of the findings.

Literature review Churches as a key component of civil society Civil society is a highly contested concept (Edwards, 2019) and can be understood in three ways: first, as the ‘third sector’ relating to the space between the state and the market; second, as a normative ideal for promoting the good of society rather than self-interest; and third, as the public space for facilitating deliberation, dialogue and the practice of citizenship in pursuit of shared interests (Edwards, 2019). This chapter adopts the third sector approach and considers civil society as consisting of a variety of groups (formally and loosely organized) of a voluntary nature, having the objective of facilitating collective action and advancing the good of society. These groups do not necessarily hold similar political positions (Edwards, 2019). Notwithstanding the highly contested definition and nature of civil society, there is consensus in the literature that churches are an essential component of civil society and that they are capable of engaging, or indeed should engage, in social action for the common good of society in both similar and dissimilar ways as NGOs, social movements and other elements of civil society (Kassimir, 1998; O’Mahony, 2003; Sullivan and Leppert, 2004; Vorster, 2015; Linde and Scaramuzzino, 2018). Vorster (2015) defines civil society as all actors outside the state or the profit-motivated private sector, having the aim of advancing the good of society; these include faith-based groups. O’Mahony (2003) defines civil society as the ‘third sector’ and sees churches as an example of a civil society organization (CSO). Sullivan and Leppert (2004) are of the view that churches play a civilising role in a society while Kassimir (1998) speaks of churches as a generally accepted element of civil society.

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The nature of civil society in the Caribbean The character of civil society in the Caribbean has been shaped by interrelated factors of the region’s history, political culture and the evolving international environment. The work of international non-governmental organizations (INGOs) in the Caribbean in the early 1970s marked the start of Caribbean NGO activity in the development process. These INGOs – primarily the development units of Christian religious organizations – partnered with local organizations in development. They included Christian Aid and the Oxford Committee for Famine Relief (OXFAM), and regional coalitions such as the Christian Action for Development in the Eastern Caribbean (CADEC) and the CCC. Local NGOs – mainly women’s rights and feminist groups, assumed the progressive stance and political nature of their international networks and affiliates (Lewis, 1994). The devastating impact of the economic crisis of the 1970s and early 1980s on socio-economic conditions highlighted the inadequacy of the state and political parties to address development challenges. As a result, in the 1980s and 1990s ‘alternative politico-economic organisations’ moved in to fill the void (Lewis, 1994, p. 129), by engaging in community development and empowerment activities. The crisis of legitimacy of the development discourse of the state establishment and the formal social and political systems drove the popular mobilization, progressive agendas of civil society and their advocacy for broad political and economic change to redress the injustice in Caribbean society (Lewis, 1994). Civil society rejected growth as the sole measure of development and prioritizing efficiency and profit over human welfare (Girvan, 1997). This was in line with global trends. Civil society rose to prominence in the 1980s as a response to totalitarianism through the process of democratization in Eastern Europe and Latin America. In that context, CSOs adopted a progressive stance and were seen to have emancipatory potential (McSweeney, 2014). Due to the introduction of neoliberal globalization in the 1980s generally, CSOs’ role as agents of social and structural change has been increasingly diminished. Neoliberalism brought about the NGOization of CSOs, i.e. the bureaucratization and depoliticization of these groups. This is partly due to their ongoing dependence on international donors which are often uncritical of neoliberalism (Pearce, 2000). NGOization was exacerbated by the increasing disconnection of CSOs from grassroots communities while having increasing links to donors (Banks et al., 2015; see also Chachin and Prakesh, 2014). This has not occurred across the board and some sectors of civil society have maintained their progressive characteristics and grassroots base, such as membership-based organizations (Banks et al., 2015). Despite the above caveat, the point remains that CSOs have increasingly lost their progressive element in various parts of the world (Riddell, 2013). The deteriorating conditions of societies and the expanding scope and complexity of development, coupled with the decreasing capacity of governments to cope with the new circumstances, galvanized many groups into more humanitarian action. As a result, CSOs increasingly turned to services delivery, on a project basis, to fill existing gaps. The above developments have all contributed to the process of NGOization (Banks et al., 2015). The Caribbean has mirrored this global trend. In recent times, work by Girvan (2012), Bishop et al. (2013) and Montoute (2016) suggests that generally CSOs in the Caribbean have failed to effectively challenge, and have instead acquiesced to, the neoliberal framework in the trade policy arena, an area which profoundly impacts socio-economic development outcomes. While a few have a progressive agenda such as some women’s rights and gender equality groups, many CSOs in the Commonwealth Caribbean engage in delivering services independently and/or in partnership with the state. Others monitor, raise awareness, implement policy, and serve as watchdogs but seek to do so within the confines of the existing governance structures. They adopt a largely collaborative rather than a confrontational approach to governance processes.

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These trends can be seen as being partly responsible for facilitating state-CSO partnerships. Efforts at facilitating non-state actor consultation in regional governance processes go back to the founding of the Caribbean Community (CARICOM) in 1973. These have taken the form of institutionalized arrangements, ad hoc consultation mechanisms and activities over time, but this has not resulted in an established and permanent framework for the participation of CSOs in CARICOM’s governance. Moreover, labour and employers’ associations have been privileged over other categories of civil society, particularly churches, in consultation mechanisms and cooperation activities. Additionally, these efforts are fragmented, taking place in disparate parts of CARICOM’s governance structure without a comprehensive and all-encompassing functioning framework for CSO participation (Hinds-Harrison, 2013). The Joint Consultative Group established in 1973, whose membership comprised the Caribbean Association of Industry and Commerce, the Caribbean Congress of Labour and the Caribbean Consumers Committee (defunct by the end of the 1970s) and the Caribbean Policy Development Centre (added in 1996), has not been invited to a Heads of Government meeting since 2004 (Hinds-Harrison, 2013). The Charter of Civil Society for the Caribbean Community adopted in 1997 was to have served as the overarching policy framework for NGOs’ participation alongside three other ‘social partners’ (CARICOM Secretariat, 1997). This framework has not led to the institutionalization of CSO participation in regional governance because the Charter has not been given legal effect within the different member states (Girvan, 2011). The Charter indicates that in principle CSOs are considered legitimate actors in regional governance but this acknowledgement has been largely symbolic. The Liliendaal Statement which came out of the Civil Society Forward Together Conference (2002) was another important initiative towards engaging CSOs in CARICOM governance (CARICOM, 2002). It was to be endorsed by all parliaments in the region. However, the second spurt of CARICOM regionalism in the late 1990s lapsed and the annual consultations gradually subsided, as did the CARICOM Parliamentary Assembly Meetings (Duncan, 1999; Inter-American Development Bank, 2005). A contributing factor may have been the erosion of EU funding from the 1990s. The larger underlying impediment, however, can be attributed to governments’ reservations or lack of commitment to constructing meaningful and holistic democratic structures.

A constructivist approach to cooperation and integration As stated earlier, this chapter adopts a social constructivist approach. Such an approach holds that social interactions are key to the international system (Alder, 2002). Constructivists advance the notion that material objects do not exist outside of the meanings which actors assign to them. Unlike other theories which give centrality to material capabilities, constructivists give greater place to ideational power (Cristol 2019). According to Wendt, not only are the ‘fundamental structures of international politics … social rather than strictly material [instead] … these structures shape actors’ identities and interests, rather than just their behavior’ (Wendt, 1995, p. 72). A constructivist framework is employed to explore the role of people in constructing regional identity. The chapter privileges a bottom-up approach to regional integration rather than a technical top-bottom state-centric approach. Increasingly, regions are seen not merely as geographic conceptualizations or institutional phenomena but fundamentally ‘are socially constructed through human interactions, political discourse and cultural evolutions’ (Fioramonti, 2012, p. 153). We contend that states are not the sole driving force of regional integration and give importance to the social construction of regions through the role of people in region building (Börzel, 2016). 192

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Among the dominant theories of regional integration and cooperation, intergovernmentalism sees states as the main drivers of regional integration and cooperation, while liberal intergovernmentalism, neofunctionalism and multilevel governance take into account other actors and factors. However, both broad approaches focus on formal processes and the outcomes of inter-state bargains in region building (Börzel, 2016; see also on liberal intergovernmentalism and neofunctionalism, Schimmelfennig, 2018 and Söderbaum, 2011). Constructivist approaches on the other hand, emphasize the ideational drivers of regionalism. Collectively shared meaning, structures, norms and values help to forge a regional identity and facilitate mutual trust (Börzel, 2016; Ghica, 2013). Despite doctrinal differences between them, Catholics and Protestants share the core belief that Christians are to follow the example of Jesus Christ and that serving neighbours and the community is a way of serving God (Boisi Center for Religion and American Life, n.d.). Christ’s teachings on humanitarianism and social justice inspired the emergence of Catholic liberation theology in Latin America in the 1960s, which sought to actively interpret the gospel in ministering to the needs of the poor and downtrodden in their context (Rowland, 2007). This discourages passive acceptance and promotes activism (Brown, 2013). Such perspectives have also influenced religious thought and action in the Caribbean.

Methodology The chapter utilizes a qualitative/interpretivist approach in order to examine the contributions of churches in strengthening regional cooperation. It uses a case study research strategy, relating to Christian churches, including the Methodist Church in the Caribbean and Americas (MCCA), the Seventh-day Adventist (SDA) Church in the Caribbean, the Salvation Army, the Roman Catholic Church and the CCC. These churches were selected because their governance structure has a strong regional orientation. Although the above churches are not the only organizations with a regional focus, they have the widest regional reach with clearly defined regional and national structures. Data were mainly collected from secondary sources, websites, reports, other publications and media reports released by these organizations. This was complemented by four elite interviews. Purposive sampling was used; interviewees were selected based on their extensive association with, and in-depth knowledge of, their respective religious denominations or organizations. The interviews were not conducted anonymously but for confidentiality purposes the interviewees’ identities have been omitted. The interviews were semi-structured in nature. Guiding questions were shared with the interviewees before the start of conversations. The questions focused on the history and structure of each organization, its philosophy, mission and regional dimension including geographical organization, its achievements, perceived strengths and challenges, particularly in contributing to Caribbean human development and cultural identity. All interviews engaged with these issues, but a pre-set questionnaire was not used because of the variations among the organizations.

Churches and Caribbean regional integration Christian denominations in the Caribbean Most Christian denominations arrived in the region during European colonialism in the Americas. Christianity has a complex history of oppression and exclusion interwoven with supporting Caribbean emancipatory struggles and people taking responsibility for shaping their 193

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own destinies. Many churches evolved through the legacies of enslavement, indentured labour and colonialism to nurture local leadership and representative governance structures. They supported the emergence of independent states and have contributed towards the political, social and economic development of their societies. The following discussion makes reference to case studies and examples which include the MCCA, the SDA Church in the Caribbean, the the Roman Catholic Church, the Salvation Army and the CCC. Various churches in the Caribbean, representative of either the Roman Catholic or Protestant denominations, portray in their institutional structures governance systems that are organized along both regional and local lines. The Caribbean region comprises several mostly small island states and territories in a sea that is bordered by the coastal regions of Central America and northern South America, as well as the US state of Florida. The geographic characteristics of this greater Caribbean zone have influenced the development of regional church networks. Many denominations are also affiliated with broader international faith-based networks. The Catholic Church is a global entity in its own right, while some Protestant denominations in the Caribbean are affiliated with the World Council of Churches (WCC) and maintain cooperative links with their own denominations in other parts of the world. Several Caribbean churches are members of the CCC, which emerged as a symbol of ecumenism and regional solidarity in the 1970s. The role of churches in the Caribbean in fostering regional cooperation/ integration must be located in its proper historical context. Their mission and mandate reflected their obligation to their faith but, more importantly, their role as development actors was a reflection of the conditions they confronted in the postcolonial era. In the late 1960s, the social ferment taking place in various Caribbean territories, most notably Jamaica and Trinidad and Tobago, sparked a new movement in Christian thought and education, and the establishment of the CADEC. It focused on defining a role for the church in social development, and on sponsoring social development projects.

Caribbean Conference of Churches A large-scale ecumenical consultation with church leaders from the greater Caribbean was convened in 1971. This laid the foundation for the formation of the CCC in 1973 into which CADEC was absorbed as the social action development arm (author interview no. 1, 22 February 2022). In the 1970s and 1980s, the CCC was acknowledged as a leading ecumenical body in the region, with a membership of 33 churches in 34 Caribbean territories.1 Its mandate has been to promote ecumenism, solidarity with the poor and social change that is in keeping with the teachings of Jesus Christ.2 It emphasizes ‘ecclesial engagement with member churches’, supports their initiatives and expertise, and promotes the pooling of resources and the sharing of recognized good practices among their congregations. The CCC has undertaken initiatives aimed at the holistic and sustainable development of Caribbean societies and regional responses to natural and man-made disasters. It has worked with many development partners, including multilateral agencies, states and CSOs. However, international donor funding gradually diminished in the late 1980s. Despite ongoing efforts, such funding has not been replaced by robust regional or other forms of support. This would eventually result in a contraction of the CCC’s visibility and scope, although it maintains its membership and an office in the island of Trinidad.

The Methodist Church of the Caribbean and Americas The MCCA offers a profile of a regionally organized religious community. The calling of the Methodist Church worldwide is ‘to respond to the gospel of God’s love in Christ, and to live 194

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out its discipleship in worship and mission’,3 while the MCCA’s objectives include ‘releasing a new spiritual dynamic in the territories, increasing the witness and service of the church and mobilising its resources to work for development and Christian unity’ (WCC, 2022). While Methodism in the Caribbean dates back to 1760, the MCCA was formally established as an autonomous legal entity with headquarters in Antigua and Barbuda in 1967 (MCCA, 2006). The overall governing body is the Connexional Conference representing all its churches, which is supported by an elected conference president and secretariat based in Antigua. In 2014, the regional congregations amounted to over 32,300 people organized into eight districts, each of which has a number of circuits of churches.4 There are annual district conferences, the locations of which rotate among the constituent territories, and every five years there is a Connexional Conference which consults and takes decisions within governing councils which represent all parts of the MCCA. Another regional dimension is derived from the fact that Methodist ministers, known as presbyters and deacons, are itinerant and are rotated from one territory to another every few years. Congregations therefore are ministered to by presbyters from across the Caribbean. Candidates selected for the ministry undergo training at a regional, ecumenical United Theological College, based in Jamaica and affiliated with the University of the West Indies. Methodist church activities also promote regional awareness and identity in other ways among the membership. Various church groupings engage regularly in regional conferences. These include the Youth Encuentros for young people representing each circuit and district. The Youth Encuentros have been organized once every five years since 1996, in venues across the Caribbean region. There are regional gatherings every three years for the delegates of the MCCA Women’s Associations. There are also annual district conferences which involve delegates from different islands, and there are regional and subregional leadership training seminars (author interview no. 2, June 2016). In the last decade, a major achievement in terms of regional identity-building and cultural expression has been the painstaking compilation and introduction of a new hymnal Voices in Praise (MCCA, 2013, 2017) which features traditional and contemporary hymns and choruses in various languages derived from across the greater Caribbean as well as traditional Christian hymns and psalms.

The Seventh-day Adventist Church The SDA Church in the Caribbean is another example of an extensively regionally structured organization. Church governance is based on elected representation from the local churches and there are five levels of governance, ranging from local to the regional body of churches, to a union conference body, to an administrative Division for specific world divisions, to the General Conference which is the worldwide headquarters of the SDA Church5 (SDA Church Caribbean Union Conference, 2022). SDA missionaries established a presence in the southern Caribbean in the 1880s and in Jamaica in the 1890s, (Modest and Phillips, 2020; Melbourne, 2020) making the transition to indigenous leadership and governance structures in the early 20th century. Currently, the Caribbean Union Conference, based in the island of Trinidad, is one of the region’s administrative headquarters which provides administrative services and resources for Adventist churches stretching from the US Virgin Islands and the British Virgin Islands in the northern Caribbean to Guyana and Suriname in northern South America. This area, comprising 85 churches, is subdivided into 10 jurisdictions which are designated as conferences, missions or regions.6 Their congregational membership is approximately 250,000 worshippers. The other major SDA grouping in the Caribbean is the Jamaica Union which in 2018 consisted of 703 churches with a membership of approximately 311,000 worshippers. 195

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The Jamaica Union Conference was established in 1944 (Melbourne, 2020). There are also SDA Conferences in the Bahamas, Belize, the Cayman Islands and the Turks and Caicos Islands. The philosophy and mission of the SDA faith are based, among other things, on preaching the gospel according to the specificities of their beliefs, sharing resources and caring for other human beings. They promote health and education at all levels and in some territories have focused on developing expertise in disaster preparedness and management, as we discuss in more detail below. In each of the two major Unions (Caribbean and Jamaica), there is an Adventist University with national accreditation which provides undergraduate and graduate programmes in medicine, education, theology and other disciplines to students from the Caribbean and further afield. These universities are avenues not only for developing Adventist leadership but for promoting regional awareness and community among their students and alumni. There are also four SDA hospitals in the two major Unions in the Caribbean.

The Catholic Church The Antilles Episcopal Conference (AEC) is the structure which gives the governance of the Catholic Church its regional dimension. The AEC is an Assembly of Catholic Bishops covering the French, Dutch and Anglophone independent and non-independent jurisdictions, namely 13 independent countries, three departments of France, two parts of the Netherlands and six British colonies. Most are from the insular Caribbean but countries in South and Central America are also represented: Guyana, Suriname and French Guyana in South America and Belize in Central America. Within the AEC, there are nine permanent Commissions, each headed by an Archbishop or Bishop from the AEC (AEC, n.d.). These Commissions fall under the related dicastery of the Vatican. The AEC Commission for Promoting Integral Human Development (Justice and Peace, Migration and Tourism, Health Care) is located within the Vatican Dicastery for Promoting Integral Human Development. It was founded by Pope Francis in 2016 from the union of four Pontifical Councils: Justice and Peace, Cor Unum, Pastoral Care of Migrants and Itinerant People, and Health Care Workers. The concerns of migrants, refugees and victims of human trafficking are specifically addressed in a section of the dicastery.7 The Catholic Commission for Social Justice (CCSJ) is one of 19 departments in the Archdiocese of Port of Spain. Along with its sub-entity, the Archdiocese’s Ministry for Migrants and Refugees (AMMR), the CCSJ is located within the broader umbrella of the Commission of Integral Human Development of the Vatican and the AEC. The philosophy and work of the CCSJ therefore reflect that of the regional and global Catholic community. Together, the CCSJ and the AMMR fulfil the Catholic Church’s mandate to advance human development and social justice at the national, regional, and global level (author interview no. 4, 25 February 2022). The CCSJ is founded on the biblical concept of social justice and Catholic social teaching, informed by the mission of Jesus Christ to usher in a new world order based on truth, love, justice, peace and freedom. The vision of the CCSJ is to have a transformed world based on the above which promotes human rights, duties, and dignity, celebrates diversity, promotes equality and advances the common good, respect for human life and ecological justice. The CCSJ’s mission is to be a voice for eradicating social injustices in Trinidad and Tobago and the world through the teachings of Jesus that will develop social consciousness and empowerment to bring about the Kingdom of God on Earth. This is being done through engaging in social justice education and advocacy, promoting people-centred development, and efforts towards the transformation of inequitable structures and systems. The CCSJ’s core values include acknowledgement of its duties and obligations to the wider community, namely ‘[t]o bring 196

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good news to the poor, liberty to captives, new sight to the blind, and to free the downtrodden’ (Luke 14); respect for human dignity and an appreciation for reflection, research, and action.8

Disaster management/humanitarian assistance The Seventh-day Adventist Church The SDA Church organization includes the Adventist Development and Relief Agency (ADRA) as its humanitarian arm is active in 125 countries. Its activities are aimed at society in general and it addresses social issues including poverty and deprivation, providing welfare solutions as well as training. In Jamaica, ADRA has operated for approximately 40 years and has contributed significantly to natural disaster management and response (JIS 2012). It features as one of two churches formally incorporated into the Jamaica National Disaster Committee which operates under the Jamaican government’s Office of Disaster Preparedness and Emergency Management (ODPEM). Between 2004 and the present day, ADRA has supported the strengthening of health services, local community development, disaster response activities, national disaster response training and community-based resilience activities (Coke, 2007, 2020; JIS, 2006). In 1996, ADRA was given the responsibility by ODPEM to lead the National Zonal Programme which established community focal points to develop local resilience and community sustainability in the event of natural disasters (ODPEM, n.d.).

The Salvation Army The Salvation Army is another church in the Caribbean with a very significant record in providing humanitarian assistance, based on its founder’s motto ‘Heart to God, hand to man’ (author interview no. 3, 5 March 2022). The Salvation Army’s philosophy, doctrines and teaching are similar to those of Methodism, the Christian faith with which its founders were associated until establishing the Salvation Army in London in 1865. Its mission is Christian evangelism and social work, and it works with state authorities as well as NGOs. Evangelism and recruitment take place as much on the street as in church buildings, and the Salvation Army is often identified by its street processions and marching bands. The Salvation Army is represented in 16 Caribbean countries with its regional headquarters located in Kingston, Jamaica.9 It claims to be the only Caribbean church with membership in both the CCC and the Caribbean Evangelical Council. Over 96 per cent of its regional leadership consists of Caribbean people. The international headquarters of the Salvation Army are located in the United Kingdom and there are branches in the United States, Canada, France and elsewhere. The Salvation Army has a quasi-military structure. The church members are the soldiers and the officers are the pastors/leaders. Officers receive two years of in-house training, followed by five years in the field as cadets. Thereafter, there are various levels of promotion, based on years of service. Each Salvation Army territory is allocated a certain degree of responsibility depending on its size and capacity. All other issues must be handled higher up the decision-making chain. The Salvation Army has a broad mandate for humanitarian action, which includes combating human trafficking, sexual exploitation, campaigning for literacy, agricultural development and the financing of educational facilities. It has established numerous basic and primary schools across the region, two secondary schools in Haiti, and schools for the visually impaired in the Bahamas and Jamaica. It runs homeless shelters, homes for senior citizens and residences for young women in 197

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Jamaica, Trinidad and some other territories. It operates a Missing Persons Bureau and its Disaster Unit is represented in all the governmental disaster machinery across the Caribbean.10 Its policy where disasters are concerned is to work with state authorities wherever possible, within the parameters of National Disaster Committees (author interview 3, 5 March 2022). The Salvation Army specializes in post-disaster provision of food and clothing (for example, the provision of school uniforms and back-to-school equipment), housing and other building rehabilitation, providing trauma counselling and psychological support. The Salvation Army may provide longer-term project support in areas such as housing, other social infrastructure. For example, in 2004, following the passage of Hurricane Ivan in Grenada, the Salvation Army repaired 150 houses (author interview no. 3, 5 March 2022). After a catastrophic earthquake struck Haiti in 2010, the Salvation Army’s efforts were conducted from North America and constituted the organization’s largest disaster relief operation since the Indian Ocean tsunami in 2004 (Salvation Army, 2020). The operation included projects planned for the next three to five years, subject to the availability of funds for rebuilding schools, providing primary health care, support for women and youth, community capacity-building. After Hurricane Dorian devastated the Bahamas in 2019, the Salvation Army served as a major partner to the state in its relief efforts (Salvation Army, 2019a, 2019b). The Salvation Army manifests specific organizational strengths in its communication strategies and clear, well-documented reports on its various humanitarian operations. These reports appear to have had very positive results for its reputation, donor support and fund-raising efforts. The policy of the Salvation Army in its usage of funds is to retain 10–15 per cent for administrative costs while the remainder is allocated to project expenditure. The Salvation Army also demonstrates considerable strength in its networking and response capacity locally and regionally. It maintains ongoing contact with the communities that it has helped. The Salvation Army has contributed to the construction of regionalism by facilitating the movement of large numbers of pastors and relief workers from all its member territories who work across the Caribbean ministering to material and spiritual needs. In the process, they may encounter and gradually overcome language barriers and inter-cultural misunderstandings. The latter may include diverse understandings of gender roles and different approaches to culture in worship.

The Methodist Church Where humanitarian action is concerned, each Methodist church has a fund to provide support for individuals in desperate need. This usually encompasses congregation members and the wider Methodist community as well as other groups. In terms of natural disaster preparedness and response, the Methodist Church has tended to adopt a regional approach in providing training for personnel across the Caribbean, as it did in 2016 following the passage of Hurricane Ivan in Grenada, and in terms of providing resources to assist with such emergencies. The churches in each territory do not have formal agreements with government disaster machinery, but there are informal links and they respond to appeals to provide assistance for local or regional emergencies (author interview no. 2, 2016).

Migrants and refugees The CCSJ and the Archdiocese Ministry Migration had been identified as important by the Catholic Church ahead of the establishment of the AMMR (CCSJ, 2004, 2013). The AMMR was officially launched in June 2018 with 198

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the CCSJ serving as the umbrella body. The Living Water Community (LWC) is a member of the AMMR.11 All parishes were mandated to establish a Ministry for Migrants and Refugees. The AMMR collaborated with the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) and the LWC to strengthen the capacity of the Archdiocese in this area, and relevant parish ministries were charged to work collaboratively. The CCSJ created a database to seek UNHCR assistance and hosted programmes in the media to raise awareness on migrants, refugees and human trafficking. The AMMR has worked with state authorities to assist migrants, including providing spaces for education for Venezuelan children on Catholic school premises. They have also sourced funding from resident embassies, international organizations (e.g. UNICEF), philanthropic bodies, among others, for the funding of their programme. With support from the LWC and UNHCR, the AMMR launched a toolkit to support the parishes. Child Friendly Spaces (CFSs) have been formed to provide children with safe environments to participate in organized activities to play, socialize, learn and express themselves. The AMMR embarked on some transnational collaboration with the Venezuelan Catholic community from 22–25 August 2019, when it facilitated a visit from the Bishop of Carúpano in eastern Venezuela who was concerned about the risk of people being trafficked to Trinidad and Tobago, and the associated ills of prostitution and organ harvesting. The visit indicated an interest in building closer regional collaboration to prevent such occurrences (CCSJ, 2019). This presents an example of fostering bottom-up cooperation beyond the CARICOM region to the greater Caribbean. The AMMR’s engagement in regional structures and activities complements regional governance processes and by extension promotes regional consciousness and identity. In January 2020, the AMMR joined the R4V Platform, a Regional Inter-Agency Coordination Platform which supports the protection, assistance and integration of refugees and migrants from Venezuela. The R4V platform is jointly led by the International Organization for Migration and UNHCR. The following month, the AMMR became a member of two R4V-led committees: the Child Protection Working Group – Children on the Move and the CFS Coordination grouping; the AMMR became the focal point to coordinate the training segment of the latter’s work (CCSJ, 2022a).

Conclusion The governance of all the churches under study illustrate a people-centred, bottom-up approach to regional integration/cooperation. In addition to correcting top-down technical approaches in this regard, the work and governance of churches counter criticisms against some NGOs that they are not always representative and have lost their grassroots element. Churches’ regional governance structures comprise building blocks at the national level which means that decisions taken at the regional level represent the views of the membership of their congregation at the lowest level. In that sense, the governance structures adhere to the principle of subsidiarity, such that the national churches give direction to the regional framework and, in turn, the former are charged with its implementation in the local context. All cases considered in this chapter embody the thrust towards the widening of Caribbean integration beyond CARICOM, exemplified by church regional bodies having membership from the Dutch, French and Spanish Caribbean. While the Community of Latin and Caribbean States and the Association of Caribbean States are government-led wider Caribbean integration projects, the churches are bottom-up versions of this approach. Additionally, in the discourse around whether regionalism and globalism are complementary or conflicting, 199

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churches illustrate the former; churches show the need to integrate national, regional and global processes in an age of increasing interdependence and the benefit of pooling resources from all levels. As identity is achieved through persistent cooperation, using the ideals of their faith to inform their work at the regional level, these churches have been able to nurture a sense of Caribbeanness. As people work together towards the common good of the region, they begin to feel a sense of ownership and, over time, identify more closely with this community. The making of a Caribbean identity built on shared norms and values is a powerful glue for sustaining regional integration. This embedding of the ideas of justice, equity, humanitarianism, love and care for the poor and marginalised is especially relevant in the current dispensation of neoliberal versions of regional integration, in which human welfare has been subordinated to business and profit-seeking agendas. Churches have contributed to moving Caribbean regional integration beyond the technical processes of removing barriers to trade and harmonizing policies, to also nurturing a sense of belonging to the region. This is in line with what constructivists refer to as regions being socially constructed. This chapter has shown that churches in the Caribbean contribute to integrating the region. More broadly, they expand and deepen regional integration beyond the assumed norm of state-centricity.

Notes 1 The churches include the Jamaica Baptist Union, the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, the Lutheran Church in Guyana, the Presbyterian Church of Trinidad and Tobago, the Methodist Church in the Caribbean and Americas, the Moravian Church East West Indies Province, the Antilles Episcopal Conference (Roman Catholic), the Salvation Army and the United Church of Jamaica and Grand Cayman. The CCC’s membership and activities span Central America, the northern, eastern and southern Caribbean, Guyana and Suriname. The organization also encompasses the different linguistic areas of the Caribbean, as it contains church communities from the English, Dutch, French and Spanish-speaking parts of the greater Caribbean. See www.ccc-caribe.org/eng/index.htm. 2 www.ccc-caribe.org/eng/index.htm. 3 World Methodist Council (https://worldmethodistcouncil.org). 4 The districts are the Bahamas and Turks and Caicos, Belize and Honduras, Guyana, Haiti, Jamaica, the Leeward Islands, Panama and Costa Rica, and the Southern Caribbean. Circuits are constituted by the churches within one national or subnational territory. 5 The Caribbean Conferences form part of the Inter-American Division (SDA Church Caribbean Union Conference, 2022). 6 The conferences are the North Caribbean (the US Virgin Islands and the British Virgin Islands, Antigua), the East Caribbean (Barbados, Dominica), the South Caribbean (Trinidad and Tobago), Guyana, and Grenada. Saint Lucia, Suriname, the South Leewards (i.e. Saint Kitts and Nevis, and Saint Vincent and the Grenadines) are designated as missions (SDA Church Caribbean Union Conference, 2022). 7 www.humandevelopment.va/en/il-dicastero.html. 8 http://rcsocialjusticett.org/2.0/about/. 9 The countries/territories are Antigua and Barbuda, the Bahamas (Eleuthera and Nassau), Barbados, Belize, Guyana, French Guiana, Haiti, Jamaica, Saint Kitts, Saint Lucia, Saint-Martin, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines, Suriname, Turks and Caicos, Trinidad and Tobago. 10 There are instances where the Salvation Army has agreements with other churches, notably the Methodist Church, and in territories where it may not have a base, its humanitarian activities can be facilitated via the good offices and support provided by the other church (author interview no. 3, 5 March 2022). Operations in Haiti are not necessarily organized in cooperation with state authorities and may be coordinated from the United States, Canada or the UK, working in association with the regional headquarters in Jamaica. 11 http://rcsocialjusticett.org/2.0/ammr/. 200

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14 Information and communication technologies as a catalyst for social activism and ‘bottom-up’ regionalism in the Pacific Jason Titifanue and Romitesh Kant

Introduction From the development of speech to the advent of written language and the printing press, to the current era of audio-visual communication, the ability of both those who govern and those who are ‘governed’ to access and share information has had profound governance ramifications. At no other point in human history has this been more evident than in the present era, with real-time digital communication enabled through information and communication technologies (ICTs). As the latest stage in the evolution of mass communication, ICTs have the vast potential to transform governance and the dialogue between citizens and governments on a scale ranging from local to international. This has resulted in a radical change in how Pacific Islanders learn about and interact with critical issues for the Pacific region. Since the reform and deregulation of telecommunications in the mid-2000s, the Pacific has experienced an ICT revolution (Cave, 2012). This has offered numerous new means for Pacific Islanders to communicate, access information and engage in discourse with other members of society. Within just over a decade, Pacific Islanders have harnessed ICT platforms (particularly social media) for many purposes. Social media has been employed as a tool for political debate, disaster awareness, activism, and even identity formation and rejuvenation (Brimacombe et al., 2018; Brimacombe et al., 2018; Cox et al., 2018, Cox et al., 2019; Titifanue, 2018; Titifanue et al., 2020; Titifanue et al., 2017; Titifanue et al., 2016; Titifanue et al., 2018; Varea et al., 2020). Crucially, this has led to a fundamental reinvigoration and evolution in Pacific regional consciousness, interaction and action. ICTs have torn down communication barriers between citizens of Pacific island countries (PICs) and allowed for more efficient and interactive communication channels between individuals and groups in PIC communities. This chapter explores how this phenomenon has led to a reinvigoration of Pacific regional consciousness. Using the case studies of Pacific climate change activism and issues such as alleged human rights violations in West Papua, the chapter examines how ICTs have reinvigorated bottom-up regionalism in the Pacific.

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The ubiquity of ICT usage: global and regional perspectives Kemp (2022a), in his analysis of global digital trends, highlights several salient points on ICT ubiquity. He notes that more than 67.1 per cent of the world’s population use a mobile telephone, with internet penetration rates growing to 62.5 per cent. Social media use is also increasing, with more than half (58.4 per cent) of the world’s population being social media users. The continuous growth in the portion of the world’s population using ICTs has been an ongoing trend for the past decade. Since 2011, internet speeds have exponentially increased, and internet users have more than doubled (Kemp, 2021). Simultaneously, the number of social media users globally has tripled from just under 1.5 billion (22 per cent of the total global population in 2011) to 4.5 billion (57 per cent of the total global population in 2021) (Kemp, 2021). The past decade also saw a constant evolution in the number and popularity of social media platforms. Kemp (2021) notes that in 2021 there were seven social media platforms with more than ‘one billion monthly active users’, with users aged 16–64 spending on average about 2.5 hours per day on social media platforms. During this period, social media has evolved from a purely social platform to a critical part of how citizens find, access and interact with news and current affairs (Kant et al., 2021; Kemp, 2021). On a global scale, ICTs and social media, in particular, are being harnessed by citizens at all levels of society for numerous purposes. Such platforms have evolved from simply being a means of transmitting information to vital tools to facilitate political discourse. The Pacific region is an intriguing exemplar of this trend. ICTs have grown in popularity and outreach (Finau et al., 2014; Varea et al., 2020). Over the past decade, the number of individuals using mobile telephones, the internet and social media in PICs has increased exponentially (Titifanue et al., 2016). However, even with such exponential growth, ICT penetration levels remain relatively low, with many PICs still recording internet penetration levels below 50 per cent (Kemp, 2022c). The Pacific region also has the lowest global share of internet and social media users (Kemp, 2022b). Despite these challenges, Pacific Islanders have harnessed ICTs and digital technologies as political tools.

Pacific regionalism: state-led versus bottom-up (grassroots) Kacowicz (1999, p. 531) defines regionalism as the proneness of the governments and peoples of two or more states to establish voluntary associations and to pool together resources (material and nonmaterial) in order to create common functional and institutional arrangements. Similarly, Wiwasukh (2008, p. 2) argues that regionalism is typically associated with ‘states linked together by a geographical relationship and by a degree of mutual interdependence’. Kacowicz (1999, p. 531) further describes regionalism as a process occurring in a given geographical region by which different types of actors (states, regional institutions, societal organizations and other nonstate actors) come to share certain fundamental values and norms. These actors also participate in a growing network of economic, cultural, scientific, diplomatic, political, and military interaction. Such definitions and understandings emphasize that regionalism is being facilitated through formal organizations. Such understandings can also relate to Agnew’s (1999, p. 502)

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observation that ‘states are treated as if they are the ontological and moral equivalents to individual persons’. This can be problematic as it can potentially gloss over individuals’ nuanced realities in the various states that comprise a region. Agnew (2001, p. 9) noted that such conventions could ‘reproduce a theoretical framework that cannot deal at all with a world politics in which the international is not eternally supreme’. Neumann (1994, p. 58) puts it more pithily when he remarks that ‘the metaphorical family of the nation-state becomes more real than the family itself’. This epitomizes Hau’ofa’s (1994, pp. 156–157) description in the Pacific context. Views of the Pacific from the level of macroeconomics and macropolitics often differ markedly from those from the level of ordinary people … Only when we focus on what ordinary people are actually doing, rather than on what they should be doing, can we see the broader picture of reality. It also particularly relates to his observation on national governments, regional and international diplomacy being ‘the preserve of politicians, bureaucrats, statutory body officials, diplomats and the military, and representatives of the financial and business communities’ (Hau’ofa, 1994, p. 148). In the context of the Pacific region, this mainly relates to state-level regional organizations such as the Pacific Islands Forum (PIF) Secretariat, the Melanesian Spearhead Group (MSG), and the Polynesian Leaders Group. Söderbaum and Shaw (2003) recognize this gap and advocate for a greater focus on nonstate actors when examining regionalism. They mainly focus on civil society and transnational actors (Fry, 2019) and make the critical observation that ‘[a]n actor is “regional” when he/she takes part – consciously or unconsciously – in activities on a regionally defined arena’ (Söderbaum and Shaw, 2003, p. 221). Other scholars have delved into regional involvement at an even more micro level in the Pacific context. Hau’ofa (1994, p. 148) notes that people tend to make decisions independently at the grassroots level, resulting in ‘surprising and dramatic results that go unnoticed or ignored at the top’. George (2011, p. 3) supports this, noting that such an emphasis (on state-level regionalism) can result in other ‘informal types of Pacific regional integration’ not receiving the same attention and informal means of regional engagement being overlooked. Yet the Pacific has a long and storied history of informal regional spanning connections being formed among Pacific peoples. Slatter and Underhill-Sem (2009, p. 195) comment that regionalism has not ‘been the exclusive preserve of governments or states’. Instead, regional solidarity at a more grassroots/community level has been around for as long as intergovernmental regionalism. Such regionalism has acted to both complement and oppose government agendas. Internally, such grassroots regionalism has challenged regional governments and political elites. Externally, grassroots regionalism can work to complement state-level regional efforts (particularly on issues of common interest). There are times when a bottom-up push from citizens has instigated and complemented regionalism (George, 2011).

Bottom-up regionalism: rallying together to combat climate change Pacific island nations face many socio-economic and environmental challenges (Robie, 2014), with climate change being the most critical challenge. Currently, the Pacific region and its ˇ communities face ‘some of the most severe climate impacts anywhere on earth’ (Cašule and Jiva, 2020, p. 8). These range from rising sea levels to saltwater inundation, coastal erosion and extreme weather (Salem, 2020). This, coupled with fragile economic structures, has made the Pacific islands especially vulnerable to climate change (Hauger, 2015; Titifanue et al., 2017). 206

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Furthermore, despite being some of the lowest carbon emitters globally, PICs are on the frontlines of experiencing its impacts. Thus, human-induced climate change drivers lie beyond the region’s borders and cannot simply be addressed at the local, state or regional level. Instead, international efforts are required to minimize and mitigate carbon-emitting activities. A holistic global effort is thus needed to address the issue of climate change. PICs have therefore been required to participate in lobbying, advocacy and activism at the international governance level. Apart from formal participation and negotiation by states at international events, this also requires the involvement of Pacific citizens from all sectors of society. A significant amount of resources is thus needed to foster the participation of Pacific Islanders. Nongovernmental organizations (NGOs), interest groups and social movements have played a crucial role. Within and outside their countries, they have worked at all levels, from the grassroots to the international level, to facilitate action on climate change. These include educational programmes, mobilizing activism events, assisting climate-impacted communities, and national, regional and international activism, advocacy and lobbying. NGOs, for instance, play a crucial role in diffusing scientific expertise to the general public and focusing media and public attention on issues of concern (Vu et al., 2020). However, such activities can be hindered by fragile economic structures in many PICs. For NGOs, interest groups and social movements in the Pacific region fostering such activities and actions can be resource intensive. Against this backdrop, ICT tools and social media have become viable and vital tools in informing and educating citizens and fostering citizen participation in climate change activism and advocacy. Such digital technologies afford such groups a cost-effective means to facilitate communication (Vu et al., 2020), education and mobilization (Titifanue et al., 2017).

ICTs and regional coordination Coordinating regional action has historically been difficult for the Pacific region due to the isolated nature of the islands and the population thereof being sparsely dispersed over hundreds of islands, islets and atolls. ICTs have afforded a means for Pacific Islanders to overcome this as ICTs can be used to overcome geographic remoteness and ‘connect with health services, transfer money, access learning materials and organise events’ (Cave, 2012). Pacific island actors have quickly harnessed this potential for climate activism. In the buildup to the 2015 United Nations (UN) Climate Change Conference (COP21), Pacific Islanders made strong use of this potential. Professor Elisabeth Holland remarked, ‘Social media is a powerful tool and will help highlight to the world what the Pacific is fighting for in Paris and how that will affect the smallest communities in our large ocean states’ (Pacific Islands Forum, 2015). All around the Pacific, individuals and organizations employ social media. These range from organizations disseminating information to individual activists using social media platforms to amplify and share the climate realities they face. This is particularly important for the region, as mainstream media coverage of climate change has been relatively limited until recently. Shea et al. (2020, p. 95), in a study of representations of the Pacific islands and climate change in the British, US and Australian newspapers, found that over a two-decade period, ‘reporting on Pacific Islands and climate change represented only 0.0084% of total reporting and only 0.67% of climate change-related reporting’. As such, social media has helped Pacific Islanders to overcome such marginalization. 350. org activist Fenton Lutunatabua notes on his activist use of Snapchat: ‘People are way more likely to watch a 10-second snap. And it’s from your point of view, you can show the world what’s really happening’ (Cronin, 2016). Additionally, ICTs and social media were not just used to share stories and information. During COP21, they were employed innovatively for 207

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lobbying purposes. At COP21, some Pacific participants would circulate the Twitter handles of COP participants from other countries and request their networks in the Pacific region to ‘mass tweet [them to] make noise. This way we triple or maximise the noise’ (Titifanue et al., 2017, p. 144).

ICTs and challenging hegemonic belittling narratives Pacific activists have employed social media to oppose dominant portrayals and understandings of the Pacific region. Much reporting on climate change currently frames the Pacific using a narrative of ‘overall vulnerability’ (Shea et al., 2020). The region and its inhabitants are often framed as helpless climate victims needing external intervention and assistance. As succinctly put by Hulme (2016, p. 101), ‘Part of the familiar visual vocabulary of changing climates and rising sea-level is the Pacific Island atoll and the stranded helpless island victim forced to migrate and in need of “saving” by an enlightened world’. Pacific activists and communities have make use of ICTs to oppose such framings and provide alternatives. Robie (2011, p. 43) notes, ‘[t]he Pacific is unwilling to simply be cast aside as stateless “climate refugees” as portrayed by the Western media’. A key example is the slogan ‘We are not drowning, we are fighting’ that was born out of a day of activism in March 2013; the video premiered at 350.org’s international climate activist gathering (350 Pacific, 2013). The event involved activists from 14 Pacific island states and territories Fair (2018, p. 20). The ‘Not Drowning but Fighting’ narrative contrasts with the typical dystopian and belittling climate narratives that frame the Pacific. Since 2013, this slogan has been a rallying call for many Pacific activists. At numerous international meetings, activists around the region have used this slogan to address world leaders. At the opening ceremony of the COP26 World Leader summit, Samoan climate activist Brianna Fruean declared, ‘Pacific youth have rallied behind the cry: we are not drowning, we are fighting’ (Cardwell, 2021). Such messages have been articulated widely using ICT platforms. Pacific activists have made use of social media to inform, educate and mobilize. Social media features have afforded activists a cost-efficient means to organize and mobilize, with climate change-focused social media groups playing critical roles in facilitating regional events. Key examples of this pre-COVID-19 are Facebook event features promoting and sharing climate-related events. In the current era of COVID-19, ICTs and social media have been used by activists to maintain momentum through virtual events. For instance, simply scrolling through the Facebook pages of national and regional movements that carry out work relating to climate change (such as 350 Pacific, DIVA for Equality Fiji, Pacific Islands Climate Action Network, and Generation Equality, Generation Justice) reveals many virtual events that are open to all online participants.

Bottom-up regionalism: rallying to support self-determination in West Papua Pacific regionalism and West Papua’s struggle for self-determination The inhabitants of West Papua are Pacific peoples, artificially separated from affiliated communities in Papua New Guinea (PNG) by the arbitrary carve-up of the large island territory in the 19th century by occupying Dutch and German colonial powers and robbed of their right to independence by a Cold War deal negotiated between the Netherlands, Indonesia and the UN, which handed the former Dutch territory to Indonesia at the latter’s insistence. Until Indonesia took control of West Papua, it was part of the Pacific island regional grouping. 208

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Dutch New Guinea was an early member of the South Pacific Commission, now the Secretariat of the Pacific Community. By the time of the establishment of the PIF in 1971 which brought together the politically independent Pacific island states, West Papua had become integrated as part of Indonesia following a forceful occupation and annexation. The Forum’s members have long pushed for West Papua’s readmission to the Pacific fold (Lawson, 2016). These calls have yielded nothing. However, in the last few years a longstanding argument was made for them to join the regional sub-grouping known as the MSG (Lawson, 2016). The MSG was established in 1988 and earned recognition as an international body in 2007. The group includes Vanuatu, the Solomon Islands, Fiji, PNG and the pro-independence Front de Libération Nationale Kanak et Socialiste (FLNKS – Kanak and Socialist National Liberation Front), a pro-independence movement from New Caledonia. The FLNKS took up the chair of the MSG in 2013. The MSG is the most established and active of the subregional political groupings in the Pacific. Vanuatu’s capital city, Port Vila, serves as the secretariat for the organization, which has grown in political and economic prominence over the past few years (Newton Cain, 2015). The MSG’s creation in the mid-1980s was fuelled in part by a desire to support Kanak efforts to become self-sufficient (Lawson, 2016). Early on, FLNKS was inducted into the collective. A long time has passed since the MSG heard any arguments favouring the inclusion of West Papua, yet this precedent shows that it is possible (Blades, 2014). People in Melanesia (and essentially other PICs) feel a clear sense of injustice concerning West Papua’s claims to self-determination and the Indonesian military record in West Papua. The solidarity movement has risen dramatically in recent decades via greater regional and international awareness of West Papua. Civil society-driven and heavily influenced by social media, it has been an enormous success. The Free West Papua resistance movement has gathered significant global support recently among West Papua’s Melanesian neighbours. West Papua’s social media and citizenmedia content on decolonization (Webb-Gannon and Webb, 2019) have reignited independence politics. PICs, particularly those in the Melanesian region, have expressed deep concern about the brutality and torture inflicted on indigenous Papuans. Many cultural and social ties exist between indigenous Papuans and Melanesian peoples, extending across national boundaries (Webb-Gannon and Elmslie, 2014). There have always been strong ties between Indigenous Melanesian peoples, regardless of their country of origin. Since 1980, when most Pacific countries had gained their independence, political leaders, intellectuals and activists have sought to reclaim their ‘Melanesian-ness’ and decolonize the region. An anti-colonial and pan-ethnic identity based on the ‘Melanesian Way’, wantokism (bonds formed by shared language, tribal, village and community affiliations), and the concept of ‘reclaimed Melanesian-ness’ is commonly used by indigenous intellectuals, leaders and activists (Webb-Gannon and Elmslie, 2014). West Papua’s self-determination is a sensitive issue for governments in Melanesia and the wider Pacific, and they respond in various ways. Vanuatu has a long and well-documented history of supporting West Papua’s self-determination efforts (Blades, 2014). Even before his country obtained independence from British-French colonialism in 1980, Father Walter Lini, the country’s first prime minister, declared that Vanuatu would not be truly free until the entirety of Melanesia had freed itself from colonialism (Cullwick, 2013). Exiled West Papuans, including prominent activists and pro-independence politicians, have long called Vanuatu home. The West Papua National Coalition for Liberation (WPNCL), a significant factor in the internationalization of the West Papua problem, has an unofficial base in Vanuatu (Blades, 2018). Local leaders have stepped up their efforts in the past few years, and this trend is expected to continue. Two of Vanuatu’s most prominent young politicians, Moana Carcasses 209

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Kalosil and Ralph Regenvanu, founded International Parliamentarians for West Papua, a global movement of legislators. Other Vanuatu members of parliament have also joined in the advocacy for West Papua’s self-determination. Vanuatu’s young people share their support for/ interest in this cause. Old-school national politicians in the Vanua’aku Pati, who have a strong affinity with West Papua, have grown even more passionate about the West Papua issue since this development. Vanuatu’s parliament unanimously passed a resolution in July 2010 pledging to take ‘real and effective steps’ to promote freedom for West Papua. These steps included bringing up the issue at the PIF and petitioning the UN General Assembly to ask the International Court of Justice to arbitrate on the legitimacy of West Papua’s incorporation into Indonesia. Ultimately, however, none of this came to pass. For their part, Fiji and PNG supported Vanuatu’s 2011 push for Indonesia and Timor-Leste to be granted observer status. PNG and Fiji both opposed West Papua’s membership during Fiji’s tenure as MSG chair from 2011 to 2013 (Elmslie and Webb-Gannon, 2014; Claxton and Sambhi, 2014), and Fiji developed close diplomatic ties with Indonesia during this time. (Blades, 2020). There has been much international discussion about the West Papua issue in the PIF, the MSG and occasionally at the UN level. Pacific island people regard West Papuans as members of the Pacific community. Information on West Papuans’ grievances has spread across borders thanks to social media, which has made it easier for people from other Pacific island nations to learn about their plight. Civil society networks show these connections. For example, Papua Customary Council (Dewan Adat Papua) is a member of the NGO network and the Pacific Islands Association of Non-Governmental Organizations (PIANGO) and has been able to advocate for indigenous rights in West Papua to an international audience because of this. Global advocacy for West Papuan human rights has been boosted by visits by members of the Pacific Conference of Churches to West Papua.

Social media and the Free West Papua campaign in the Pacific The WPNCL presented its membership application to the MSG leaders at their 2013 summit in Noumea, New Caledonia. The leaders decided to hold further discussions before coming to a decision. Meanwhile, Ratu Inoke Kubuabola, the Fijian Minister of Foreign Affairs, relayed an invitation from Jakarta for an MSG delegation to visit Indonesia and West Papua. Jakarta finally organized a trip six months after the MSG had agreed to accept the invitation. Still, there was no way for delegates to meet with any members of civil society or West Papuan representatives. The government of Vanuatu withdrew from the delegation after claiming that the mission had been ‘hijacked’ by Indonesia (Radio New Zealand, 2014). Ultimately, MSG delegates were escorted through Jayapura by security officials, spending only a few hours meeting with government and police officials. During the visit 47 West Papuan protesters were detained (Blades, 2020). In a final communiqué of the 2014 MSG summit, it was decided that ‘all groups [in West Papua should] … form an inclusive and united umbrella group in consultation with Indonesia to work on submitting a fresh application’ (Maclellan, 2015, p. 276). Since then, there has been a significant increase in diplomatic efforts by West Papua. In just six months, the WPNCL and other pro-independence groups evolved into the United Liberation Movement for West Papua (ULMWP), thanks to Vanuatu’s assistance. More than 55,000 people in West Papua signed a petition calling for the country to be admitted to the MSG (Leadbeater, 2018; Maclellan, 2015). Under the leadership of the Solomon Islands, the ULMWP was granted MSG observer status in 2015. West Papua’s campaign for self-determination and independence has been given new momentum by social media over the past few years, with video recordings of mass arrests and 210

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torture in reaction to peaceful protests creating awareness and sparking concern (Titifanue et al., 2016). As part of this social media approach, a non-violent movement has arisen, and ordinary people’s support for freedom can be witnessed in mass mobilizations, thanks to the independent West Papua Media Alerts agency (Macleod et al., 2016). According to Titifanue et al. (2017), social networking is increasingly being employed as a political tool in the Pacific; social media has been a ‘useful tool’ for facilitating and organizing activities in the Free West Papua Campaign. It claims that ‘social media has become the only option for West Papuans to share their plight with the rest of the world’ (Titifanue et al., 2016, p. 275). Robie (2017, p. 161) remarks that ‘social media have contributed to a dramatic upsurge of global awareness about West Papua’. Other scholars have also noted that social media has contributed to greater awareness and concern in the Pacific (Blades, 2014; Macleod, 2016; Macleod et al., 2016). This social media campaign is part of West Papua’s national consciousness-raising and a rallying point for the international community to speak out against Indonesia. West Papua’s self-determination is very much the result of a specific historical period resulting in the development of a unified political discourse aided by social media, connecting the world’s oppressed peoples to international organizations fighting on their behalf (Blades, 2014, 2020). The international community is increasingly questioning Indonesia’s 1969 annexation of West Papua, which protesters frequently refer to as the ‘Act of No Choice’ (Wenda, 2017a, 2017b). Desmond Tutu, an anti-apartheid activist, called on the UN to re-examine the controversial 1969 referendum in 2004 and said, ‘the people of West Papua have been denied their basic human rights, including their right to self-determination’ (UNPO.org, 2004). Because of Tutu’s actions, UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan was pressured by more than 100 European parliamentarians, US senators and a wide range of NGOs to consider a re-vote (National Security Archive, 2004). Support and awareness for the Free West Papua Campaign, led by West Papuan independence leader Benny Wenda, who is currently living in exile, has grown despite the lack of significant action from the United Nations (FreeWestPapua.org, 2015). As internet use expands globally, West Papuan pro-independence activists have an advantage in spreading information about their cause, particularly alleged human rights violations in Papua. In the past, they mainly relied on offline means of disseminating information and promoting political action like demonstrations and long marches. Still, in recent years, with Facebook, Twitter and YouTube becoming more prolific, they began to make greater use of them. Through social media, West Papuan activists have become international media producers while simultaneously diaspora West Papuan activists such as Benny Wenda have worked to draw attention to the plight of West Papuans and pressure the Indonesian government for an independence referendum. Due to social media pages dedicated to the independence struggle, cameras and phone recordings have played a new role in mediating violent conflict. West Papua’s media restrictions and Indonesia’s ban on any form of self-determination activity may contribute to the rising popularity of social media. While social media information on West Papua issues remains unbalanced in offering a complete picture of the region, it influences populations and government officials. The ‘We Bleed Black, and Red Movement’, the ‘Fiji Solidarity Movement for West Papua’s Freedom’, and ‘Walsolwara Voice for West Papua’ have successfully obtained support from the Pacific region. For example, the Fiji Solidarity Movement attracted roughly 100 people in 2015. Wansolwara in Madang, PNG, also mobilized about 100 people from the Pacific islands to advocate for the West Papua issue (Titifanue et al., 2016). Social media has swayed government officials’ views on the West Papua problem. Former PNG Prime Minister Peter O’Neill has been cited as saying, ‘[p]ictures of cruelty against our people appear regularly on the social media, and yet we pay little heed’. Consequently, as the South Pacific’s regional leader, PNG 211

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must take the lead in raising this issue with Indonesia through mature conversation, according to O’Neill (Garrett, 2015). Despite social media’s concern for West Papua, a sense of kinship owing to shared Melanesian identity has become the primary motivation for supporting West Papua.

Indonesia’s response to the growing regional consciousness of West Papua Foreign media coverage of West Papua, Papuan diplomatic initiatives in international fora and the burgeoning solidarity movement have also heightened Indonesia’s awareness of the situation. The Indonesian government has stepped up its diplomacy across the Pacific to dampen support for West Papua’s independence (Blades 2020). Local protesters rallying behind the West Papua independence movement gathered outside the 2017 PIF venue in Samoa to voice their support. In reaction to the protests, a heated news conference was conducted in Apia by Tantowi Yahya, (the Indonesian ambassador to New Zealand, Tonga and Samoa) and Franz Albert Joku (the Papuan envoy for the Indonesian administration) who argued that the focus should be on the Forum’s agenda rather than on West Papua (Blades, 2018, p. 38). Yahya reportedly stated, ‘No! We just stick to the main agenda … but not the Papuans’. During the press conference, it was also reported that the ambassador and Joku had raised their voices ‘causing Police Officers in the vicinity to approach the area’ (Feagaimaali’i-Luamanu, 2017). The press conference in Apia highlighted Jakarta’s apparent desire to prevent foreign journalists from discussing West Papua. For Jakarta, combating the Liberation Movement’s diplomatic efforts in the Pacific has been a significant priority. A rising number of Pacific countries are benefiting from Indonesia’s aid programmes. Samoa’s government emerged from the Forum summit with an improved relationship with Indonesia, thanks to several new assistance packages (Blades, 2018). An Indonesian delegation led by cabinet minister Wiranto travelled to several Pacific countries in early 2018, including two countries that had recently voiced their concern about West Papua at the UN. The Jakarta delegation’s trip was a success since it resulted in the leaders of Nauru and Tuvalu retracting their earlier concerns about Indonesia’s actions in West Papua and refraining from interfering in Indonesia’s internal affairs (Blades, 2018, p. 39). Indonesia has increased its focus on relations with Pacific island nations as the West Papua issue has gained international attention. This has created opportunities for Fiji. Frank Bainimarama had turned to new allies in Asia after the 2006 military coup and the subsequent sanctions imposed by Australia and New Zealand. To secure Indonesian aid, Fiji’s prime minister used the West Papua issue to promise support for Indonesia’s sovereignty in the territory. In return, Indonesia offered foreign aid and assistance packages, a police academy, and increased security cooperation with Fiji (Parameswaran, 2018). West Papuan human rights, peace and stability are issues that Pacific governments must balance with their ties to Indonesia. Seven Pacific countries highlighted human rights abuses and self-determination aspirations in West Papua at the UN General Assembly in 2016. In retaliation, Indonesia harshly criticized these countries and their records on human rights. (Blades, 2020). However, West Papua’s argument challenging the legitimacy of Indonesia’s sovereignty, and alleged human rights violations by the Indonesian military have fuelled the debate. Pressure on Jakarta has intensified as Pacific countries frequently raise the issue at UN Human Rights Council sessions in Geneva (Mambor, 2019). By siding with Indonesia, Pacific governments risk appearing weak on an issue that resonates with their grassroots support. Gordon Darcy Lilo, the former prime minister of the Solomon Islands, was slammed by the media and civil society after publicly acknowledging Indonesia’s 212

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absolute sovereignty over West Papua (Webb-Gannon and Elmslie, 2014). There was a similar outcry over Jakarta’s hosting of Solomon’s delegation to West Papua without first consulting civil society groups (Radio New Zealand, 2018b). In Vanuatu and Solomon Islands, the politically charged issue has played a role in leadership changes. In 2017, the parliament of Solomon Islands voted to remove Prime Minister Sogavare over concerns about his ‘strong stance on the plight of the people of West Papua’ (John, 2017). Sogavare’s stance on West Papua has significantly cooled since he was re-elected in April 2019. Sato Kilman, the former prime minister of Vanuatu, disrupted the country’s longstanding support for West Papua’s independence aspirations. Kilman’s dismissal as prime minister in 2013 was primarily due to suspicions about his ties to Indonesia (Blades, 2020). Kilman made his first trip to Jakarta as Vanuatu’s minister of foreign affairs shortly before replacing pro-West Papua Joe Natuman as prime minister (Blades, 2020). Before his rule ended, a corruption scandal that implicated half of Kilman’s cabinet and led to the imprisonment of 14 others quickly overshadowed his involvement in Vanuatu’s West Papua policy. Indonesia’s efforts in the Pacific have paid off in the West Papua struggle. As mentioned earlier, seven countries in the Pacific raised the issue at the UN in 2016, but some have since changed their stance. While expressing their support for Indonesian sovereignty over West Papua, the leaders of Nauru and Tuvalu have voiced enthusiasm for Indonesia’s development of West Papua’s so-called backwards regions (East Timor and Indonesia Action Network, 2008; Radio New Zealand, 2018a). An Indonesian minister who has advocated for a ‘soft diplomacy’ strategy in dealing with the West Papuan conflict visited Nauru in 2018, where the statement was issued (Radio New Zealand, 2018a). For some time, the government in Jakarta had floated the idea of Indonesia joining the MSG, citing that Indonesia is home to 11 million more Melanesian people than all the MSG member states combined. Promoting a subnational cultural identity was a novel argument for Indonesia. Even though some Melanesian leaders ignored the claim, Fiji’s government began citing it ‘in proximity to the membership issue’ (Blades, 2014, 2020). After a year-long stalemate over Prime Minister Bainimarama’s appointment as MSG chair, Indonesia’s MSG opportunity arose in 2011 due to the MSG constitution’s democratic and governance provisions. The chairmanship stand-off was resolved when Sato Kilman returned to power in Vanuatu. In 2011, Indonesia was granted observer status in the group with the support of both Bainimarama and Kilman. Controversy erupted in Melanesia after the decision was made. Many viewed Indonesia’s inclusion in the MSG as a betrayal of the Melanesian spirit, as evidenced by discussions on social media. Some of the MSG’s member governments have reiterated that they are displeased about this development (Laungi, 2018).

Bottom-up regionalism: reinvigorated regional consciousness in the face of adversity Bottom-up regionalism is not a new occurrence in the Pacific. There have been points in history where a bottom-up push has led, instigated and complemented action at the regional level. The roots of such activities lie in Pacific resistance to the horror of nuclear testing in the region. The Nuclear Free and Independent Pacific (NFIP) movement was a leading force in this campaign. Founded in 1975, NFIP was born in a period when issues of decolonization and independence had gained momentum in the region. Rather than solely focusing on nuclear testing, NFIP was intersectional in its approach, recognizing that nuclear testing was conducted in territories under colonial occupation. Maclellan (2017, p. 5) observes that the NFIP made 213

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connections with other movements articulating regional concern, stating, ‘NFIP also made the connection to broader Pacific campaigns for indigenous self-determination, decolonisation and political independence’. The Peoples’ Charter for a Nuclear Free and Independent Pacific explicitly recognizes such issues. The intersection of decolonization and nuclear testing issues ignited outrage and indignation in the region that transcended political borders and ethnic and cultural boundaries (Titifanue et al., 2020). As Maclellan (2005, p. 365) pithily puts it, such opposition to nuclear testing arose from ‘a sense of place, the feeling of being people of the Pacific and not just in the Pacific. That sense of belonging – of looking to the skies, seeing the Southern Cross, and feeling at home’. During the same period, one of only two regional universities (in the world) was founded. Founded in 1968, the University of the South Pacific (USP) became a unique bastion of Pacific regionalism. At the university’s Laucala campus, students from the USP’s member countries would gather to learn and, simultaneously, be exposed to other Pacific cultures. Lal (1992, p. 257) noted that ‘students came into contact with new ideologies that provided them with a vision of the world that contrasted sharply with the one they had left behind’. Leckie (2018, p. 75) notes that if one were to make a judgement based on the contents of the USP students’ magazine (UNISPAC), then during its early decades, USP was ‘a hotbed of radicalism’. The late great Epeli Hau’ofa reflecting on the USP’s early years, commented, ‘The university was like a kind of microcosm of the Pacific at large. The debates reflected not only the national issues of various islands but also the larger regional issues of nuclear testing and things like that’ Hau’ofa (1993, p. 81). Over time, such regional passion waned. However, from the late 2000s and early 2010s, there was a resurgence in regional interest in these topics (Titifanue et al., 2020). The Pacific’s ICT revolution and the resultant ease of access to information directly drove this. Through the examples of ICTs and social media facilitating grassroots activism on climate change and West Papua’s self-determination, a regional bottom up-push on these issues can be observed. It is fascinating to note that the focus of these campaigns is similar to the intersectional approach employed by its forbearer (the NFIP). For instance, in the Peoples’ Charter for a Nuclear Free and Independent Pacific, section 2 of the preamble states: ‘We, the people of the Pacific have been victimised too long by foreign powers’, while Part 1 states, ‘convinced that our peoples and our environment have been exploited enough by superpowers” (Nuclear Free and Independent Pacific Movement, 1983). In the case of West Papuan activism, the campaigns have significantly focused on the issue of Pacific peoples being victimized and exploited. Regarding climate change activism, narratives have often centred upon the Pacific region being at the frontline of the impacts of climate change driven by the continuing high carbon emissions of countries in the global North. Additionally, there is a rebuff of victimizing narratives. The slogan ‘We are not drowning, we are fighting’ is an empowering call by the Pacific region to throw off the mantle of victimhood. It is an unequivocal rejection of belittling and dystopian narratives. In both campaigns, opposition to victimization and exploitation feature prominently. A collective sense of unity also transcends national and cultural groupings. It is analogous to Maclellan’s (2005, p. 365) observation of anti-nuclear activism being driven by ‘the feeling of being people of the Pacific and not just in the Pacific’. A common theme in anti-nuclear, Free West Papua and climate activism is a collective sense of outrage that the region and its people are being belittled and exploited.

Bottom-up regionalism: differing typologies There are clear synergies between the bottom-up regionalism demonstrated in the anti-nuclear movement and the Free West Papua and climate change activism. Nevertheless, there are also 214

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crucial differences in the campaign approaches regarding whether they complement or oppose state-level regionalism. In the case of anti-nuclear and climate change activism, actors at the community level, NGOs and civil society organizations typically worked with their national governments and regional institutions to amplify Pacific concerns. However, in the case of the Free West Papua movement, there is often a dissonance between activists and governments. In essence, with the exception of Vanuatu, Pacific island governments have demonstrated differing policies and shifting positions on the issue of self-determination and human rights in West Papua. While Vanuatu has generally been steadfast in its support for West Papua’s self-determination, other Pacific governments have flip-flopped depending on their relations with Indonesia. Thus, while there has been a bottom-up push supporting West Papua’s self-determination and human rights, this is not always mirrored at the national and regional level (Titifanue et al., 2020).

Conclusion This chapter has assessed how ICT platforms and social media have fostered and reinvigorated bottom-up regionalism. It notes that bottom-up regionalism is not new and can be traced back to the Pacific anti-nuclear movement. While this had waned over time, the Pacific’s ICT revolution has enabled more efficient communication for Pacific Islanders. This has had the two-fold effect of Pacific Islanders becoming better informed and more efficiently participating in discussions on issues of regional concern. Regional consciousness and pride have been reinvigorated with a bottom-up surge in community participation and advocacy on critical issues. This regional consciousness is reminiscent of Epeli Hau’ofa’s concept of the Pacific as a ‘sea of islands’, as bottom-up regionalism is rooted in notions of shared identity as part of the same ocean and region. The campaigns this chapter examined have synergy in that they all focus on opposing colonialism and exploitation and advocating for justice, be it social, political or environmental. However, as noted, there is a dissonance in the typologies of the campaigns, as depending on the issue, bottom-up pushes can either work in concert with regional governments or be in opposition. This is something that is worth further research. Future researchers would benefit from examining regional movements focusing on other issues of critical regional concern (such as women’s rights and deep-sea mining).

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Jason Titifanue and Romitesh Kant Shea, M. M., Painter, J., and Osaka, S. (2020). Representations of Pacific Islands and Climate Change in US, UK, and Australian Newspaper Reporting. Climatic Change, 161(1), 89–108. doi:doi:10.1007/ s10584-020-02674-w. Slatter, C., and Underhill-Sem, Y. J. (2009). Reclaiming Pacific Island Regionalism. In B. D’Costa and K. Lee-Koo (Eds), Gender and Global Politics in the Asia-Pacific (pp. 195–210). New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Söderbaum, F., and Shaw, T. M. (2003). Conclusion: What Futures for New Regionalism? In F. Söderbaum and T. M. Shaw (Eds), Theories of New Regionalism: A Palgrave Reader (pp. 211–225). London: Palgrave Macmillan. Titifanue, J. (2018). The Digital Renaissance of Bottom-Up Regionalism in the Pacific. Paper presented at the Australian Association for Pacific Studies Conference, Adelaide. Titifanue, J., Kant, R., and Finau, G. (2020). A Crucible for Bottom-Up Regionalism? The Digital Renaissance: West Papuan Media Suppression and Social Media in the Pacific. Pacific Journalism Review: Te Koakoa, 26(1), 140–147. Titifanue, J., Kant, R., Finau, G., and Tarai, J. (2017). Climate Change Advocacy in the Pacific: The Role of Information and Communication Technologies. Pacific Journalism Review: Te Koakoa, 23(1), 133–149. https://doi.org/10.24135/pjr.v23i1.105. Titifanue, J., Tarai, J., Kant, R., and Finau, G. (2016). From Social Networking to Activism: The Role of Social Media in the Free West Papua Campaign. Pacific Studies, 39(3), 255–281. Titifanue, J., Varea, R. R., Varea, R., Kant, R., and Finau, G. (2018). Digital Diaspora, Reinvigorating Indigenous Identity and Online Activism: Social Media and the Reorientation of Rotuman Identity. Media International Australia, 169(1), 32–42. https://doi.org/10.1177/1329878x18803377. UNPO.org (2004). West Papua: Nobel Prize Desmond Tutu Calls on UN to Act. Unrepresented Nations and Peoples Organization (UNPO), 26 February. www.unpo.org/article/435. Varea, R., Titifanue, J., Varea, R., and Kant, R. (2020). The Political Affordances of the ‘Coconut Wireless’: Rotumans on Social Media in the 2018 Fiji Elections. Pacific Journalism Review: Te Koakoa, 26(2), 221–241. https://doi.org/10.24135/pjr.v26i2.1130. Vu, H. T., Blomberg, M., Seo, H., Liu, Y., Shayesteh, F., and Do, H. V. (2020). Social Media and Environmental Activism: Framing Climate Change on Facebook by Global NGOs. Science Communication, 43(1), 91–115. doi:doi:10.1177/1075547020971644. Webb-Gannon, C., and Elmslie, J. (2014). MSG Headache, West Papuan Heartache? Indonesia’s Melanesian Foray. The Asia-Pacific Journal, 12(47/3). https://apjjf.org/-Camellia-Webb-Gannon–Jim -Elmslie/4225/article.pdf. Webb-Gannon, C., and Webb, M. (2019). ‘More Than a Music, It’s a Movement’: West Papua Decolonization Songs, Social Media, and the Remixing of Resistance. The Contemporary Pacific, 31(2), 309–343. https://doi.org/10.1353/cp.2019.0025. Wiwasukh, M. (2008). Asian Response to Politics of New Regionalism: A Study of Strategic and Economic Dimensions, 1991–2005. PhD dissertation. Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. Wenda, B. (2017a). Massacre of 5 People in 24 hours – Under Indonesia, West Papua Is Becoming Another East Timor. ULMWP. www.ulmwp.org/massacre-5-people-24-hours-indonesia-west-papua -becoming-like-east-timor. Wenda, B. (2017b). West Papua Refuses the Day of Betrayal – 1969 Act of No Choice. Office of Benny Wenda. www.bennywenda.org/2017/west-papua-refuses-day-betrayal-1969-act-no-choice/.

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15 The dilemmas of civil society and social movements in a rapidly growing economy Botswana David Sebudubudu and Patrick Molutsi

Introduction This chapter discusses civil society and social movements in Botswana, a small southern African country, with a population of just over two million but a large landmass of 582,000 sq km. In particular, it seeks to examine why civil society and social movements assume certain characteristics in that country. The history and evolution of civil society and social movements across the world have been intensively discussed, and are quite intriguing in the academic literature. This chapter does not delve into that area as this has been sufficiently addressed in the extant literature. The inception of civil society identifies with the works of Hegel, Gramsci and Karl Marx who perceived civil society as the opposite of the polity or the political society whose main terrain was control of state power. Civil society was viewed as the sphere of citizens and citizens’ self-regulating organizations whose role was to support and protect public interests/rights. However, in the context of modern ‘liberal democracy’ civil society is associated with non-governmental organizations (NGOs) which have to be recognized and regulated by the state. Social movements, on the other hand, ‘emerged in the context of the French revolution, when the potential of mass behaviour became apparent’ and it denoted ‘progress’ (Daniel and Neubert, 2019, p.182). The literature presents various definitions of civil society and social movements, and these seem to vary in terms of the context that a scholar might be dealing with as there was no ‘one size fits all’ definition to cater to each situation. Even so, there are definitions with common attributes that are associated with these two concepts. This chapter does not seek to enter that terrain as the issue of definitions and lack of consensus has been established. Jaysawal (2013, p. 1) suggests that civil society consists of groups and individuals, both formal and informal which act independent of the state and market to promote diverse interests in society. It represents self-generating, self-

DOI: 10.4324/9781003341536-18

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supporting, state-independent organizations that allow citizens to act collectively in the public sphere to express their interests. In short, according to Jaysawal’s definition, the function of civil society is to promote diversity, self-sustaining and autonomous organizations. Meanwhile, Banegas et al. (2010, p. 252) noted that social movements manifest themselves in overt institutional and organizational forms, for example as civil society organisations, church or other religious groups and trade unions, but can also take more amorphous and temporary forms, for example protest movements which coalesce briefly around a particular issue or initiative before dissolving into wider society – and they may of course involve such tendencies. This chapter utilizes these working definitions of the two concepts as they are broad enough to apply to most situations. However, these definitions are easy to conceptualize and apply in the developed world setting, because of the longstanding tradition of democracy whereby civil society receives external funding from various sources outside the state such as the private sector, charitable foundations and humanitarian organizations. But their application was fraught with challenges in the developing countries, especially African countries, owing to the nature of their politics and limited funding opportunities outside the state. It is therefore understandable why the concepts of civil society and social movements assume different forms and characteristics compared to the developed world. The chapter uses a combination of historical perspective and qualitative and quantitative data to trace the evolution of these organizations in Botswana to show the distinctive role of different categories of civil society and social movements such as labour unions, private media, gender and human rights groups, and to portray their declining role in advocacy and as development critics of the wealthy state of Botswana. It also draws on an analysis/study of over 200 civil society and social movement organizations to demonstrate how these organizations have gradually become dependent on the wealthy state for survival. The chapter proposes policy options for the state to support civil society and social movements without compromising their autonomy – hence the dilemma. The chapter is organized in seven sections. The first section introduces the chapter, and is followed by the second section which offers definitions of civil society and social movements. The third section discusses the origins and character of civil society and social movements in Botswana, while the fourth section examines the civil society and social movement landscape in that country. The fifth section considers state-civil society relations, and the sixth section discusses the state of funding of civil society and social movements. The final section concludes the chapter.

The meaning of civil society and social movements Most studies treat civil society and social movements in the context of the global North albeit that their application has been extended to the global South, despite evident deficiencies in doing so (Daniel and Neubert, 2019). Furthermore, these notions are frequently applied homogeneously, yet they are dissimilar (Daniel and Neubert, 2019). Nasibov (2021) affirms that there is ‘conceptual perplexity’ in the application of the two concepts. According to Nasibov (2021, p. 1),

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the reason for the confusion about the relationship between these two concepts lies in their two core attributes: voluntary coming together for a common purpose and the locus of it being beyond the state, market, and family. This seemingly overlap is here referred to as the moment of confusion. It is demonstrated that scholarly efforts to bridge the gap between the two strands of literature – civil society and social movements – have been in vain. They rather exasperated this confusion. This confusion was more pronounced in an authoritarian setting. Nasibov (2021, p. 2) further posits that civil society was based on ‘associative solidarity (action)’ that is considered ‘progressive’ while social movements have their roots in ‘collective solidarity (action)’ which is deemed ‘transgressive’ in complexion. This is a state’s definition of these organizations and scholars appear to have fallen into the trap of categorizing civil society and social movements in this manner. Even so, ‘social movements cannot solely be understood through the lens of contestation and civil society cannot be reduced to collaborative association’ (de Bakker et al., 2013, p. 575). Put differently, it is incorrect and misleading to always associate social movements with violence or protest, and civil society with peaceful co-existence with the state. However, de Bakker et al. (2013, p. 575) caution us that social movements and civil society do ‘not only stand for two distinct bodies of research or societal domains, but also for different approaches for how divergent interests are managed’. This suggests that the context – whether it is democratic or authoritarian – informs the approach and indeed the evolution these organizations assume. There is sufficient literature to support this line of thought. Evidently, the two concepts present an intellectual challenge to those who have studied them, in terms of application and understanding, especially in relation to African settings. Makumbe (1998) notes that social scientists in the global North anticipated civil society in Africa to evolve in the same way that it had in the mature democracies. We contend that this line of thought was overly ambitious because civil society and social movements in Africa have evolved and emerged differently from those of the developed countries. For his part, Makumbe (1998, p. 310) opines that ‘to expect Africa’s civil society to be as vibrant and dynamic as that in some developed countries after so short a period is to be grossly inconsiderate’. This is because the context and conditions under which civil society and social movements operate in the two parts of the world are far apart as they operate in contrasting democratic vs authoritarian situations. In the global North, the environment has facilitated the emergence and development of these organisations, considering the critical role they play in a democracy. Yet in the global South, including in Africa, conditions there are restrictive to these organizations. The ambivalence towards these organizations in the developing world, including those in Botswana, that can be said to be a democracy by African standards, revealed the context under which they operate – an issue that social scientists in the developed world seem initially to have downplayed. Although civil society was confronted with some challenges in Africa, it endured (Makumbe, 1998). Makumbe (1998, pp. 316–317) is categorical on the nature and form of civil society in Africa: African civil society is, however, fairly weak and beset with constraints of a financial, organizational, operational and even environmental nature. Naturally, multi-faceted constraints make it rather difficult for civil society in Africa [to] effectively represent, promote and protect the interests of the people. Some of these constraints have been generated by Africa’s history, while others are the result of the continent’s present social, cultural and political condition. Although resolving these problems is likely to require considerable 221

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time and other essential resources, the task facing Africa’s civil society is by no means insurmountable. Makumbe’s observation reflected the nature of the African environment. Regrettably, these constraints still exist because although most African countries have in theory embraced multiparty democracy, democratic practice across Africa is beset with major challenges – giving rise to all types of regimes across the continent that are in the main undemocratic in character and form. It was therefore not surprising that according to the Economist Intelligence Unit’s Democracy Index for 2019 and 2021, the small island of Mauritius is the only ‘full democracy’ in Africa. We are therefore persuaded by Balogun’s (1997, p. 237) contention that it is not that ‘democracy happens because the leaders want it to, but rather that democracy is not likely to happen spontaneously unless the forces working for it are properly organized’. Leaders on their own are reluctant to advance democracy because it is not in their interest to do so as this has implications on the seat of power. There is a need for civil society and social movements to advocate for the advancement of democracy, and thus offer a critical balance. However, civil society has generally been suppressed in Africa because it presents a threat to the leader’s seat of power. Makumbe (1998) notes that since the onset of colonialism in Africa civil society has never had it easy. According to Makumbe (1998, p. 311) civil society is also confronted with an operational dilemma because most civil society organizations (CSOs) ‘are not capable of sustaining themselves without the support of either the state or foreign international donors’, which goes against the definition of CSOs as self-sustaining and autonomous organizations. This is a major defining characteristic of civil society and social movements in Africa that hinders their development. As a result of this restrictive environment, the role, funding and impact of civil society and social movements in the developing world have been rather limited. Having offered this overview of the two notions, the next section considers the origins and character of civil society and social movements in Botswana, the focus of this chapter.

Origins and character of civil society and social movements in Botswana Civil society and social movements have an interesting origin and character. Remarkably, civil society in Botswana, as in other African countries, did not follow the pattern envisaged by social scientists in the global North. It has emerged differently in terms of character and form. The history of Botswana’s civil society and social movements resembles that of the rest of the Southern African region in two main ways. First, given the oppressive nature of the colonial state and its discriminatory policies between the white and the majority African population, CSOs including the church, labour unions and other traditional semi-organized groups, such as chiefs and farmers’ associations, were forced by the prevailing conditions at the time to associate and/or identify with the liberation movements and anti-colonial political parties advocating for social and political inclusion and independence. For instance, in Angola, Lesotho, Malawi, Mozambique, Namibia, South Africa, Tanzania, Zambia and Zimbabwe, liberation movements solicited support from trade unions, traditional leaders, farmers’ associations, student movements, the church and other civic associations to form a united protest against the racist and discriminatory colonial state. In all these countries, united fronts in support of independence succeeded at different stages in bringing about the change of mind of the colonial state, and ultimately independence. In Botswana too, the first radical nationalist parties anchored their protest around land alienation, while the racial discrimination of the African population solicited civil society support especially from the then nascent labour movement whose members were frontline victims of discriminatory laws (Makgala, 2007; Joint Minds Consult, 2021). The Bechuanaland Peoples 222

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Party and its subsequent breakaway parties, the Botswana Independence Party and the Botswana National Front, made it a deliberate strategy to associate with, and recruit their followers from the labour unions. However, unlike elsewhere in the region where the church and religious associations organized themselves to participate in an internal resistance against anticolonial/anti-racist state policies, the church in Botswana was mobilized differently. It engaged in a silent protest focusing on the provision of non-discriminatory education, water supply and health services (Joint Minds Consult, 2021). Therefore, in contrast to civil society in the developed countries, one of the distinctive features of civil society and social movements in the Southern African region following independence was that the post-colonial state resorted to the strategy of either regulating and restricting the space of CSOs or, as was the case in Angola, Zimbabwe, Mozambique and South Africa, they were affiliated, co-opted or incorporated as organs of the ruling party, thereby forming a broad coalition. Both strategies served to curtail and restrict the spaces of civil society and social movements through the use of legislative hurdles and/or political affiliation and allegiance. Where CSOs were selectively affiliated, co-opted or incorporated as organs of the ruling party, as was the case in Namibia, Mozambique, South Africa and Zimbabwe, it led to divisions within the civil society while at the same time stifled or gave rise to passive trade unions, student movements and women’s groups which became part of the ruling parties. However, some of these affiliations did not last over time. For instance, in Zimbabwe, the labour/trade unions decided to break away from the ruling Zimbabwe African National Union – Patriotic Front (ZANU-PF) and formed its own Movement for Democratic Change political party. The latter has since been engaged in a bitter struggle for state power with its former mentor, ZANU-PF. In the process, the victim of this toxic political and civic environment has been the civil society in Zimbabwe which has become largely paralysed by internal divisions, political affiliation and legislative hurdles. Botswana’s civil society has evolved differently. The new state led by the liberal democratic Botswana Democratic Party, formed as a coalition of traditional chiefs or chief’s relatives, some liberal teachers and clerks in the public sector, journalists and white settler leaders in 1962, opted to de-associate civil society including trade unions from opposition political parties using restrictive legislation. Through the Registrar of Societies and subsequently Trade Unions and Employers’ Association Acts, every CSO and trade union was required to register and annually submit evidence of their continued existence. The registration has become the basis of recognition and participation for CSOs and social movements in Botswana. The second unique feature of the African civil society and social movements is their overdependence on either financial support from foreign donors (and/or state funding. These two sources of funding have in practice prescribed the agenda of civil society and limited its capacity to operate autonomously. In some African states such as Libya, Sudan and several Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) countries the dependent civil society has been pitted against the state by foreign donors. This characterization of civil society as an alternative state was particularly prominent in the late 1980s and 1990s when many of the African states were experimenting with Structural Adjustment Programmes sponsored by the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund. This trajectory has since created a suspicious relationship between the state and civil society and social movements in an already circumscribed democratic environment in many African societies. The presence of external donors/funders has no doubt contributed positively in catalysing sections of civil society through funding in the areas of the environment, gender equality, human rights, children’s rights, freedom of speech, the rights of people with disabilities and indigenous people’s rights. At the same time, foreign donors have through their funding models contributed to strengthening the state’s control of these organizations, as shown in the next section. 223

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An analysis of the origins and character of civil society and social movements in Botswana and in Southern Africa will not be complete without examining the internal dynamics of civil society itself. Besides state and donor control and influences, civil society must be understood within the context of its internal dynamics relating to leadership, accountability, transparency and succession planning. These features explain the widespread fragmentation and conflicts that have characterized civil society in African countries. Key to all these factors has been an undemocratic leadership. The leadership of civil society, including that of the trade unions, has historically been undemocratic. Elected leaders in these organizations have in many ways mirrored the leadership at state level. In other words, they have found ways of delaying and distorting elections and/or using control mechanisms and patronage to manipulate their continued hold on positions of leadership. The leaders gradually became corrupt, unaccountable and lacked transparency because these organizations became instruments of wealth for them; thus before being captured by the state and donors, they were first captured by their leaders. This type of leadership was evident in federations and trade unions at national and regional level. It also became vulnerable to state and donor criticism and often led to breakaway groups that in turn weakened civil society and its credibility before the state, private sector and the external donor organizations. This section has identified three features that have influenced and determined the character and nature of civil society in Botswana. First, the influence of the conditions of the discriminatory and racist colonial state drove civil society to align itself with the forces of anticolonial struggle. This alignment in turn created a complex relationship between the state and civil society in the post-colonial era. Eventually, the state used legislation to restrict the autonomy and freedom of civil society in the country. The second factor that played a definitive role in the character of civil society in Botswana as it did elsewhere in the developing world has been the role of foreign donor organizations. Perhaps specific to Botswana, which is regarded as one of the most democratic developed countries in Africa, the donor community has helped to facilitate a state-friendly civil society which in the process became complacent. The third defining characteristic of Botswana’s civil society is its relatively undemocratic leadership which has subsequently become unaccountable and corrupt. The nature of its leadership has made it easy for the state to personalize its relations with civil society. For instance, a leader of a trade union could be appointed into state commissions without prior consultation with the membership.

Civil society and social movement landscape in Botswana Botswana’s civil society emerged from humble beginnings in the 1950s and 1960s (Makgala, 2007). It was mainly made up of trade unions, civil servants’ associations and humanitarian church-based groups which supported the poor and provided education, health and drinking water services in selected communities. At the time, very few of the nascent civil society groups focused on advocacy for political change. Evidently, the complexity and low level of development of these organizations at the time reflected the country’s state of underdevelopment. In the early years after Botswana had gained its independence, civil society started to grow steadily in number and diversity. Carroll and Carroll (2007, p. 333) noted that it grew ‘extraordinarily rapidly in size and influence’ in the 1990s. Nevertheless, the majority of CSOs were in the social sector where church organizations, women’s groups, humanitarian organizations such as the Red Cross, the Boy Scouts and Girl Guides, the Young Men’s Christian Association (YMCA) and the Young Women’s Christian Association (YWCA) and leading churches such as the London Missionary Society (now the United Congregational Churches of Southern Africa) and the Catholic, Methodist, Seventh-day Adventist and Dutch Reformed churches were focused on providing education, health and other relief services to 224

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the poor and most disadvantaged groups including the indigenous San people in the Kalahari desert. It was during these early years that the new state formulated legislation that required every CSO to register with the Registry of Societies in the Ministry of Home Affairs. The rapid transformation of the country’s economy partly due to the discovery and subsequent exploitation of its rich diamond mines and enhanced international aid in the first three decades of independence stimulated a parallel rapid growth of CSOs in all spheres of the economy and society. The establishment of foreign embassies accompanied by foreign aid and humanitarian organizations heralded a new era for civil society in Botswana (Holm and Molutsi, 1990; Holm et al., 1996; Somolekae, 1998). Indeed, by the end of the 20th century, although CSOs in Botswana remained weak in relation to the state that was growing in wealth and power, they had become a factor and distinct player in national development. During the first three decades following the country’s independence, civil society and social movements were able to diversify into advocacy groups in minority/indigenous people’s rights, refugee rights, children’s rights, human rights and women’s/gender rights, environmental conservation, rights of persons with disabilities and media freedom issues. The density and diversity of civil society and social movements in the country at the time gave rise to the establishment of an umbrella body called the Botswana Council of Non-governmental Organisations (BOCONGO) and subsequently to a more grassroots-based umbrella body – the Botswana Community Based Organisations’ Network (BOCOBONET). According to a 2021 national consultative study by Joint Minds Consult that reviewed Botswana’s 2012 National Policy for NGOs, the number of CSOs in Botswana was approximately 466, as shown in Table 15.1. Of these, 173 were affiliated to BOCONGO, while 293 were associated with BOCOBONET (Joint Minds Consult, 2021). However, a BOCONGO official stated that the umbrella body had more than 300 affiliates since 2020 (interview, 30 March 2022), which suggests that the 2021 national consultative study that reviewed the 2012 National Policy for NGOs could have underestimated the number of its affiliates. Around 200 CSOs took part in this study, and most respondents to the study were those holding senior positions in these organizations. Of these, 73 (37 per cent) and 57 (29 per cent) were affiliated to BOCONGO and BOCOBONET, respectively, while 70 (35 per cent) of those that participated in the national study were not members of either of the two umbrella CSOs (Joint Minds Consult, 2021). The 2021 study notwithstanding, it is contended that the number of CSOs and social movements shown in Table 15.1 above does not appear to reflect the actual number of such organizations in the country. A number of explanations are offered for this. First, not every CSO has registered for membership with either BOCONGO or BOCOBONET, or both. Moreover, there was little incentive to become a member of these umbrella organizations, and there are no legal obligations for a CSO to become a member of an umbrella body. Second, both BOCONGO and BOCOBONET’s records were relatively dated as they were not updated annually. Third, some new CSOs were formed particularly in the growth areas of the Table 15.1 Estimated number of CSOs in Botswana, 2021

Source of data

Total number of CSOs

% Distribution of CSOs

BOCONGO BOCOBONET Total

173 293 466

37.1 62.9 100.0

Source: Joint Minds Consult (2021).

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health, environment and tourism/natural resources sectors (Joint Minds Consult, 2021). In a nutshell, the figures presented in Table 15.1 were indicative rather than definitive regarding the number of CSOs in the country. A count was further complicated by the government’s decision that encouraged CSOs to register with different ministries/departments of their operational interest (Government of Botswana, 2017). This decision has complicated the CSO environment as some have registered with the Ministry of Agricultural Development and Food Security, some with the Ministry of Environment, Tourism and Natural Resources, while others were listed under the Ministries of Basic Education, Health and Wellness, and the Environment, for example. This decision was justified on the basis that it will make it easier for the government to channel support to CSOs through client ministries/departments rather than giving a lump sum of funding to an umbrella body to distribute to its affiliates. Evidently, this decision has certainly weakened the organizational capacity of civil society in terms of coordination and cooperation by umbrella bodies. According to a 2021 national consultative study that reviewed the National Policy for NGOs of 2012, the aggregate of CSOs presented in Table 15.1 suggests that these organizations could be broken down into faithbased CSOs, rights-based and advocacy-driven groups, labour/trade unions, social policy and protection groups, environment, conservation, and community-based natural resources management organizations, gender and development groups, a host of community trusts and burial societies, and sports, art and cultural groups, in terms of data provided by BOCONGO and BOCOBONET (Joint Minds Consult, 2021).

State-civil society relations State-civil society relations in Botswana almost mirror state-society relations. This is because civil society defines every aspect of society outside the state, business, markets and family, as per the definition above. In a democratic state, it is expected that state-civil society relations will be predominantly mutually amicable. Their roles will be complementary and their operational spaces mutually respected. Botswana declared itself a democracy on gaining its political independence in 1966. The tenets of a democratic state being the rule of law, the separation of powers, freedom of speech and association were all entrenched in the Constitution. Even when many countries in the African continent, the Southern Africa Development Community region and many developing countries abandoned liberal democracy immediately after independence, Botswana continued to hold regular and relatively free elections, and allowed CSOs to exist and grow, albeit within the legislative hurdles described above. On the whole, however, state-civil society relations in Botswana show a mixed record of support, facilitation and efforts towards recognition that CSOs have a critical role to play in national development. Historically, CSOs built schools and clinics, and successfully ran these facilities even before the country’s independence. They also ran many rural development projects and programmes, especially in the first decades of independence (Joint Minds Consult, 2021). Furthermore, the state was aware that some CSOs were able to mobilize much needed resources from foreign civil society and humanitarian agencies and that these resources were being used to alleviate poverty and to support those in need living in rural and underprivileged urban locations. Official statements show that the government recognizes that CSOs are necessary players in national development. However, while state-civil society relations in Botswana were, by comparison to neighbouring countries, healthy and accommodative, certain sections of civil society had to cope with a more hostile environment than others. Owing to the control mechanism applied to CSOs in Botswana, and in other countries (Moyo, 2009), state-civil society relations were shaped by the specific factors of history in each country. For 226

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instance, the new state was quick to bring civil society under state control through the introduction of the legislation which required every CSO to register before it could be recognized. Such legislation was usually used to either enable or repress CSOs (Moyo, 2009). In this case, the law defined the parameters of what a CSO could and could not do. This general law was followed by additional legislation targeted at specific segments of CSOs, especially the trade unions and private media, as they were considered a threat to the survival of the state. Such legislations were more restrictive. For instance, trade union legislation spelt out in detail how trade unions could organize, relate externally and how they would not strike without first seeking permission of the employer and the government (Dingake, 2008). For instance, the law clarified the threshold for which employees could be allowed to establish a trade union in a particular industry and the conditions under which they could engage in a strike were all prescribed in the trade unions and employers’ associations and trade dispute legislation (Dingake, 2008). The legislation also prevented public sector employees from forming trade unions until four decades later, in 2009. The private media was another segment of civil society which experienced protracted struggles and legal battles against the state. A number of journalists were expelled from the country, while private newspapers were singled out, isolated and punished through denial of government advertisements, which had been a major source of revenue in a country where the private sector was almost non-existent. The strategy has been sustained by the state and its effect was to promote self-censorship on the part of private newspapers. The state media was not an issue as it was tightly controlled by the government and used as a mechanism for self-preservation by the government. Equally, other CSOs working in the areas of women’s/gender rights and environment/ conservation advocacy which criticized the conservative policies and legislation of the government on these emerging global issues were met with hostility from the state and its organs. A women’s organization called Emang Basadi (Women, stand up for your rights) was ridiculed and ostracized for upholding foreign values that were likely to interfere with and pollute Botswana’s culture and practices. The many professional women who were leading this women’s rights campaign were derogatively referred to as spinsters who could not find husbands. It was in this context that a women married to a US citizen challenged the state after a court ruled that her children had no right to inherit her Botswana citizenship although they did have the right to citizenship of her husband’s country. The high court ruled in her favour as it declared that section of the Constitution to be discriminatory. The court’s decision was regarded as a revolutionary milestone which forced the state to reconsider its laws relating to gender equality. Similarly, environment/conservation advocacy CSOs met hostility from the state for pointing to alienation of the land of indigenous San people in favour of mining projects, tourist initiatives or large cattle ranchers in the Central Kalahari. Once more, after a protracted struggle led by some international NGOs such as Survival International and church groups working among the San people, the state gradually accepted some reforms of its policies relating to environmental conservation and the land rights of indigenous minority citizens (Office of the High Commissioner of Human Rights, 2012).

State of funding of civil society and social movements: options and choices The thesis of this chapter hinges on the dilemmas faced by civil society and social movements in Botswana. What caused these dilemmas? They started with the emergence of a wealthy state that held sway over the economy and civil society, which looked to it for resources. With civil society dependent on the state for funding, it ceased to be an autonomous and independent

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player able to criticize state policies and programmes. This is where the dilemma was and continues to be. But how did this come about and what were the manifestations of this dilemma? Undoubtedly, Botswana’s first decade of independence was transformative. As widely documented in the literature, Botswana was at independence one of the poorest countries in the world. The country was highly dependent on British grants-in-aid to subsidize its budget, and both the departing colonial administration and foreign observers doubted the country’s survival as an independent state. However, between 1966 and 1974, several rich diamond deposits were discovered in Orapa, in the Central district of Botswana. A highly lucrative diamond mining industry was rapidly developed, and by the beginning of the second decade (1975–1984) government revenues which had been highly fragile and meagre had been transformed. This period of unparalleled mineral revenues and their impact on the economy also coincided with high levels of inflows of foreign aid and humanitarian support in consideration of the country’s then geopolitical threat from racist and white supremacy regimes in Angola, Mozambique, Namibia, South Africa and Zimbabwe (Holm and Molutsi, 1990; Holm et al., 1996; Somolekae, 1998). The subsequent transformation of the country’s economic situation was therefore a result of a combination of mineral revenues, foreign and humanitarian aid and ‘soft’ loans from institutions such as the World Bank and other financial institutions in developed countries. In the context of civil society support, the arrival of foreign missions/embassies, including those of the United States, Germany, Japan, India, China, Canada, Finland, Denmark, the Netherlands, Norway and Sweden, brought funding and humanitarian aid directly to CSOs. Consequently, international development agencies such as the US Agency for International Development (USAID), the Norwegian Agency for Development Co-operation (NORAD), the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA), the Swedish International Development Agency (SIDA), and the Danish International Development Agency (DANIDA) established offices and supported different civil society groups working in women’s rights, human rights, environmental conservation and programmes for persons with disabilities and refugees. Aid agencies also funded a number of educational projects, health programmes and water development projects in rural and remote areas. As mentioned above, some independent advocacy civil society groups underwritten by foreign financing such as Emang Basadi, Metlhaetsile, Ditshwanelo (the Botswana Centre for Human Rights), the Botswana Society and the Kalahari Conservation Society emerged during this period. This external funding gave rise to an emergence of a strong and sustained advocacy which helped to effect reforms to government policy and programmes. More recently, donors of foreign aid such as the European Union (EU) have established a local framework used by the EU to facilitate and support the participation of non-state actors in development. Parallel to the increase in foreign funding for civil society was the rapid growth of government revenues, some of which came from the discovery and mining of the second wealthiest diamond mine in Jwaneng in Southern Botswana. Exports of diamonds had a positive effect on government wealth. First, government tax revenues grew rapidly from taxes on mining operations and other related economic activities. Second, export revenues in the form of customs duties collected via the Southern African Customs Union Agreement grew substantially. These sources led to an accumulation of foreign reserves for the government which in turn generated considerable interest. By 1990, Botswana’s cumulated wealth had necessitated a reclassification of the economy by the World Bank to middle-income status. A few years later the Bank ranked Botswana as an upper-middle-income economy. This favourable global recognition of Botswana’s economic transformation, however, had far-reaching negative effects on the population. Nevertheless, the economy grew rapidly from a narrow mining base with fairly low employment creation opportunities. Second, the wealth accumulated to the state and not directly to the population. This 228

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state of affairs led to the emergence of a ‘rich state-poor society’ whereby the poverty and inequality inherited on independence remained entrenched if not extended while the state/ government was accumulating surplus wealth. The attainment of upper-middle-income status led to a rapid withdrawal of both foreign aid agencies and foreign embassies/missions from Botswana. Even then, those organizations that advance issues of interest/new agenda to contemporary Western liberal democracies have continued to attract funding. The withdrawal of foreign aid left CSOs without funding as foreign missions could no longer justify their continued support given that the country was able to fund its own development programme. Essentially, the withdrawal of foreign aid marked the state capture of CSOs and social movements which has now rendered them highly dependent on the state for their survival. This capture was consummated in the early 2000s when the government in collaboration with some of the departing foreign donors resolved to introduce an NGOs policy, with a separate co-ordinating council. Prior to this policy, the civil society sector had grown and formed umbrella bodies to coordinate their activities. BOCONGO and BOCOBONET, discussed earlier, emerged to coordinate NGO activity at national and community level. These developments in civil society notwithstanding, the government went ahead to develop an NGOs Policy which was approved in 2012. The goals thereof are outlined in Table 15.2. Table 15.2 NGOs Policy objectives, challenges, interventions and expected outcomes, 2012

Objectives

Challenges

Interventions and strategies

Expected outcomes

1 Promote partnership and cooperation between stakeholders

Weak coordination, uncoordinated activities, no strategic direction, no involvement of the private sector

Harmonized development efforts between partners and creation of an autonomous NGO sector

2 Strengthen lines of communication

Weak monitoring and evaluation, poor information management and communication

3 Promote mobilization and utilization of resources

Poor financial management, weak technical capacity and systems, inadequate donor funding High staff attrition, inability to attract skilled human resources, poor management, no strategic plan

Establish NGO Council, develop communications strategy, develop capacity building strategy for NGOs, create sustainability Integrate NGOs with national development partners, develop communications strategy, monitoring and evaluation, NGO Council, develop NGO Plan Develop strategies for financial management, sustainability plan, capacity building and endowment fund Develop NGO Council’s strategic plan and capacity building strategy, integrate NGOs with national development partners and monitoring and evaluation framework

4 Promote overall efficiency and effectiveness

Conducive NGO environment, efficient organization, structure for implementation of NGO Policy

Better accountability and easier access to funding

Strategic planning, efficient reporting, risk management, efficient and effective NGO sector

Source: Government of Botswana (2012).

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The 2012 NGOs Policy was designed to give direction on how the CSOs were to be managed and funded. It also established an NGOs Council, separate from the existing civil society umbrella bodies, BOCONGO and BOCOBONET, to coordinate the implementation of the NGOs Policy. The NGO Council made BOCONGO and BOCOBONET its members. Interestingly, the creation of an NGOs Council did not end a government funding subsidy to BOCONGO for its operations. A BOCONGO official estimated that from 1995 the government funding subsidy amounted to 1.2 million pula annually (interview, 30 March 2022). The establishment of the NGOs Council, as a government department in the Ministry of Nationality, Immigration and Gender Affairs, marked the beginning of a protracted battle for the autonomy of CSOs from the government, and this was ongoing at the time of writing. Although CSOs sanctioned the introduction of the NGOs Policy, they were unaware that it was intended to be used as a mechanism of control and influence by the state. For instance, in February 2022 BOCONGO decried the NGOs Council for seeking to coordinate civil society views towards the Constitutional Review Commission, with BOCONGO categorically stating that the NGOs Council was not an umbrella institution for CSOs, and therefore was not entitled to act on behalf of these organizations.

Conclusion This chapter has discussed civil society and social movements in Botswana. It traced the evolution and role of these entities in the specific context of Botswana’s unique political and economic situation. It has shown that this context and history have defined state-civil society relations. In the process, Botswana evolved from a very poor state that was highly dependent on budgetary support from the British government into a wealthy country through the accumulation of diamond mining revenues. This wealthy state used its financial muscle and legislation to gradually and systematically control civil society and community-based social movements, thereby diminishing their autonomy and legitimacy to challenge the state’s unfair policies and development agenda. The chapter has also shown that in developing countries where the private sector and private foundations are almost non-existent and therefore unable to act as alternative funders of civil society and social movements the latter are vulnerable to falling under state control. The effects of state control in small states is that ‘the voices of democracy’ which civil society and social movements in developed countries usually use to press for social justice and equitable development cannot be heard. Evidently, global discourses on sustainable development and the green economy will be difficult to achieve until the private sector, donor agencies and private foundations from developed countries can evolve ways of financing such organizations in the developing world. The chapter proposes policy options for strengthening CSOs and social movements in small states. These could include (a) the establishment by developed countries and partners of a Global Funding Foundation similar to the existing Global Fund for Community Foundations to finance and support civil society and social movements’ projects/programmes in developing countries; (b) a support vehicle by the UN that separates multilateral from non-state actors such as that used by the EU to fund CSOs and social movements; and (c) wealthy states such as Botswana should be encouraged to establish a joint financing mechanism to be operated as a private foundation to finance CSOs and social movements. Both the government and domestic private sector as well as emerging philanthropist organizations could contribute to this foundation in return for a tax rebate. These policy options will reduce some of the pressure that is exerted on CSOs and social movements through the introduction of direct state funding. In terms of further research, there is a need for a comparative study on 230

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how developed countries and partners can sustain their support for social actors in developing countries that have graduated from low income status. Furthermore, there is a need to establish ways in which wealthy states can support civil society and social movements without removing their autonomy.

References Balogun, J. M. (1997). Enduring Clientelism, Governance Reform And Leadership Capacity: A Review of the Democratization Process in Nigeria. Journal of Contemporary African Studies, 15(2), 237–260. Doi: doi:10.1080/02589009708729613. Banegas, R., Pommerolle, M., and Simeant, J. (2010). Editorial: Social Movements in Africa. Review of African Political Economy, 37(125), 251–262. Carroll, T., and Carroll, W. B. (2007). The Rapid Emergence of Civil Society in Botswana. Commonwealth & Comparative Politics, 42(3), 333–355. :doi:10.1080/1466204042000326172. Daniel, A., and Neubert, D. (2019). Civil Society and Social Movements: Conceptual Insights and Challenges in African Contexts. Critical African Studies, 11(2), 176–192. de Bakker, F. G. A., den Hond, F., King, B.. and Weber, K. (2013). Social Movements, Civil Society and Corporations: Taking Stock and Looking Ahead. Organisation Studies, 34(5–6), 573–593. Dingake, K. (2008). Collective Labour Law in Botswana, Gaborone: Bay Publishing. Economist Intelligence Unit (2020). Democracy Index 2021: A Year of Democratic Setbacks and Popular Protest. London: Economist Intelligence Unit. Economist Intelligence Unit (2022). Democracy Index 2021: The China Challenge. London: Economist Intelligence Unit. Government of Botswana (2012). National Non-Governmental Policy. Gaborone: Ministry of Labour and Home Affairs. Government of Botswana (2017). Revision of the National Development Plan 11. Gaborone: Ministry of Finance and Development Planning. Holm, J., and Molutsi, P. (1990). Developing Democracy When Civil Society is Weak: The Case of Botswana . African Affairs, 89(356), 323–340. Holm, J., Molutsi P., and Somolekae, G. (1996). The Development of Civil Society in a Democratic State: The Botswana Model. African Studies Review, 39(2), 4–69. Jaysawal, N. (2013). Civil Society, Democratic Space, and Social Work. SAGE Open, 1–12. Joint Minds Consult (2021) Final Report on the Review of the National Non-Governmental Organisations Policy of 2012. Gaborone: Joint Minds Consult, Education and Training Consultants, April. Makgala, C. J. (Ed.) (2007). History of the Botswana Manual Workers Union: A Story of Courageous Struggle for Democratic and Economic Advancement in Southern Africa. Gaborone: Bay Publishing. Makumbe, J. (1998). Is there Civil Society in Africa? International Affairs, 74(2), 305–317. Moyo, B. (2009). Governing the Public Sphere: Civil Society Space in Africa. Background Paper. www.issuela b.org/resources/14567/14567.pdf. Nasibov, M. (2021) Civil Society and Pro-Democracy Social Movements: Troubled Relations Within Authoritarian Regimes? Hypothesis and Theory, 3, 1–12. Office of the High Commissioner of Human Rights (UNHCR) (2012). Botswana Stakeholder Report Universal Periodic Review by Civil Society Organisations: Ditshwanelo, Botswana Council; of Non-Governmental Organisations; Lesbians, Gays, and Bisexual of Botswana (LEGABIBO) and Rainbow Identity. Geneva: UNHCR. Somolekae, G. (1998). Democracy, Civil Society and Governance in Africa: The Case of Botswana. https://africa nphilanthropy.issuelab.org/resources/19782/19782.pdf (accessed 18 March 2022).

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Part III

Political issues

16 Estonian protest waves Groups involved and motivating issues Katrin Uba

Introduction Estonia is a country with 1.3 million inhabitants lying on the southern coast of the Gulf of Finland. It became an independent state on 24 February 1918, having been occupied by the Soviet Union during World War II. The occupation meant deportations, repressions and pressure on Estonians to abandon their language and culture. Roughly one-third of the country’s population is Russian-speaking, living primarily in the capital and the north-eastern part of the country. Estonia regained its independence in August 1991, after several years of significant mobilization – the protests by the environmental movement, massive gatherings in the form of ‘song festivals’, and the formation of a human chain extending from Tallinn to Lithuania’s capital Vilnius (known as the Baltic Chain) in 1989. While this transition period is often described as a ‘Singing Revolution’, the years following the 1990s are characterized by a quiescence of civil society action (Vihalemm et al., 1997; Ruutsoo, 2002). Due to this image of stability following independence, the riots that erupted when the Estonian government removed a Soviet war monument, called the ‘Bronze Soldier’, in April 2007 shocked many observers. Within a year, the number of protests had almost tripled. Those who had followed the development of contention between some activists from the Russianspeaking minority and the Estonian nationalists were not surprised, as the so-called War of Monuments had a history that began in 2004 (Smith, 2008). Furthermore, as we will show in this chapter, some small riots also took place in connection with the anti-Iraq War protests in 2003. Despite these events, scholars making international comparisons have described the Estonian public as relatively patient, especially in contrast to neighbouring Latvia (Beissinger et al., 2014; Kriesi et al., 2020). Still, earlier studies on Estonian post-communist protests focused on relatively short periods (transition, economic crisis). Therefore, these studies say little about the general trends in political contention in Estonia. The chapter attempts to fill this research gap and provides an analysis of protest events that have been mobilized by different civil society groups in Estonia since 1991. The chapter aims to answer the following research questions: is protest mobilization increasing or decreasing in Estonia? Which groups tend to mobilize these protests, and what were the main issues raised by protesters between 1992 and 2019? To respond to these research

DOI: 10.4324/9781003341536-20

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questions, the chapter uses the Estonian Protest Dataset (EPD), which is based on information published in Estonia’s public news media. The EPD includes data on various protest events ranging from common strategies such as writing letters to the authorities and newspapers to classic contentious actions, such as petitions, rallies, demonstrations, strikes and acts of civil disobedience. The chapter proceeds as follows. A review of previous studies on Estonia’s protest movements is presented in the next section, which also introduces the theoretical framework of the chapter. The section that follows describes the compilation of the EPD and discuss some limitations of protest event data. The fourth section answers the two research questions with reference to the protest event data. The implications of the results and prospects for further research are presented in the concluding paragraph.

Earlier research on civil society and protests in Estonia This section presents a literature review divided into two parts. The first part describes earlier research on Estonian civil society and political activism between 1992 and 2019. It also presents views relating to protest trends. The second part focuses on issues of concern for Estonian politics at the time, and groups likely to mobilize protests in Estonia. The section cannot do justice to the eventful political and economic development in Estonia since the 1990s, so interested readers are encouraged to seek out, for instance, Lauristin and Vihalemm (2009), Pettai (2007) and Taagepera (2018).

Civil society activism in Estonia between 1992 and 2019 The description of post-communist civil society in Estonia, as well as in Central and Eastern European countries in general, often refers to its weakness as there is relatively low membership of civil society organizations (CSOs) (Howard, 2003). Indeed, Estonian non-governmental organizations (NGOs) often adopt the role of welfare service providers and are characterized by the low level of citizens’ activism (Lagerspetz et al., 2002). For example, there were only 324 voluntary organizations per 100,000 citizens in Estonia in 1998, compared to 467 in Hungary, and according to surveys, membership of voluntary organizations fell from 46 per cent in 1993 to 39 per cent in 1996 (Lagerspetz et al., 2002). This was in sharp contrast to 1988–1991, when national movements mobilized about 70 per cent of the Estonian population (Lauristin and Vihalemm, 2009). However, recent studies call for revisions of this argument, using measurements other than surveys of NGO membership (Foa and Ekiert, 2017; Jacobsson and Saxonberg, 2016). It should be noted that different measures of civic activism, especially those based on individuallevel participation in politics, report declining activism in Estonia during the 1990s. For example, Brady and Kaplan (2001) showed with the help of their nationally representative survey that 74 per cent of the surveyed Estonians had signed petitions, and 34 per cent reported participation in demonstrations in the late 1980s. In the early 2000s, the proportion of petitioners was down to 18 per cent, and only 7 per cent reported having participated in demonstrations (Ruutsoo, 2009). Thus, there is clear evidence of declining protest participation compared to the late 1980s and early 1990s. The latest surveys report even lower numbers; according to the European Social Survey of 2018, only 2.5 per cent of respondents in Estonia stated that they had participated in a lawful public demonstration.1 These figures suggest that we should not expect much increase in protest frequency in the country. On the other hand, Estonia experienced a period of significant institutional reform when the authorities introduced and implemented various e-governance and e-participation projects 236

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(Kassen, 2019). Such opportunities helped to lower the costs necessary for civic engagement and might have encouraged political activism after the 2000s. Furthermore, there was a significant flow of foreign aid and ideas on activating civil society to Estonian CSOs prior to the European Union (EU) enlargement in 2004 (Raik, 2003). Such processes are likely to increase protest activism as well. Nevertheless, earlier studies that have compared Estonia to neighbouring Latvia and Lithuania during the period of economic crisis and austerity reforms in 2009–2010 make particular note of the low level of protest activism in Estonia (Kriesi et al., 2020), possibly the result of an underdeveloped civil society and the general patience of the public (Kattel and Raudla, 2013). These earlier studies suggest that we should not expect to find much increase in protest activism in Estonia during the 2000s compared to the early 1990s.

The groups and issues that are likely to mobilize protests in Estonia While there are no prior systematic studies about protest trends in Estonia during the last decades, the following discussion focuses on the research on movements and policy issues dominating recent Estonian history. First, early scholarship on anti-Soviet mobilization emphasizes environmental issues (Auer, 1998) and the restitution of the pre-Second World War Estonia (Johnston and Aarelaid-Tart, 2000; Johnston and Snow, 1998; Pettai, 2004). Although environmental protests primarily concerned pollution and the wastage of natural resources, these were also very much related to issues of nationalism (Auer, 1998). With regard to the nationalist movement, there were two major groups. For example, Johnston and Aarelaid-Tart (2000) show how two specific mobilization frames developed even before the mass mobilization of the 1980s. One was a nationalist frame claiming the radical restoration of Estonian independence and another was a ‘Sovietized Estonianness’ frame that sought to accommodate Estonian identity within the communist system (Johnston and Aarelaid-Tart (2000). While the Citizens’ Committees kept their restoration frame, the more accommodative Popular Front also rallied for the country’s independence from 1988 to 1991 (Lauristin and Vihalemm, 2009). A third group, mobilizing at the time, carried the counter-frame to the Estonian’s nationalist one, as many among the Russian minorities rallied against Estonian moves towards independence (Brady and Kaplan 2001). It is likely that these kinds of mobilization frame – i.e. the nationalist and the Russian minority rights frame – did not disappear from the protest scene after the country regained its independence in August 1991. The economic transition brought forward radical liberal market reforms from 1992 onwards, but these were faced with widespread acceptance by different social groups because of the prevalent Russian threat (Lagerspetz and Vogt, 2004). Therefore, one would not expect to see many economic policy-related protests in the early 1990s. Nevertheless, with the passing years and the economic stabilization of the late 1990s, the incidence of protests increased. A particularly controversial issue was the full restitution of pre-war property rights for all real estate owners as of June 1940 and their descendants (Lauristin and Vihalemm, 2009). Such a process created considerable perceived injustice, which led to protest mobilization (Van Stekelenburg and Klandermans, 2013). Furthermore, the elite-driven economic policies of the 2000s, also motivated by the forthcoming accession to the EU in 2004, generated the mobilization frames of ‘winners’ (educated urban groups) and ‘losers’ (the elderly, disabled people, industrial and agricultural workers, the unemployed) of the transition (Lauristin and Vihalemm, 2009). This division was likely to have increased the protest mobilization around economic issues, even though potential mobilizing groups such as trade unions have very low membership rates in Estonia (Visser, 2015). 237

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The lack of a social dimension of (neo)liberal reforms and the emerging group of ‘losers’ probably explains the development of further cleavages in Estonian society. In particular, Hutter (2014a) has shown that the globalization process in Western Europe led to the development of a particular integration-demarcation cleavage that increased the mobilization of antiimmigration and protests related to cultural liberalism. Considering that the Estonian public also experienced a shift from materialist to post-materialist values during the decades of the democratic transition (Inglehart, 1997), it would not be surprising to find an increasing number of protests related to the environment, as well as to social matters including liberal (LGTB+ rights) versus conservative values. Similarly to many other European countries, some radical right movements in Estonia have mobilised against immigration and liberal values (Castelli Gattinara et al., 2021). Finally, in addition to the mobilization of different social groups, recent research has found a peculiar tendency that characterizes Eastern and Central European protest activism, namely that there is a significant over-representation of protests mobilized or supported by political parties (Borbáth and Hutter, 2020). The trend is explained by the weakness of civil society and the country’s short democratic history (Borbáth and Hutter, 2020). Hence, if Estonian civil society grows stronger, the protests mobilized by political parties should decrease.

Protest event data in Estonia To respond to the research questions of this chapter, we make use of a unique Estonian Protest Dataset (EPD) covering protest events in Estonia since 1992. The data are collected and coded following the tradition of protest event research (Hutter, 2014b). In contrast to more recent studies, which use automated data collection or coding (see, e.g., Kriesi et al. 2020), identifying and coding the protest events for EDP have entirely relied on four native Estonian-speaking coders. Information for constructing the dataset has been systematically gathered from Estonian media, including various newspapers, public service news reporting and the primary newswire in the country – the Baltic News Service (BNS). We used three search engines to look for relevant documents (news stories) that report on protest events: the collection of digitalized Estonian printed newspapers (DIGAR, www.digar.ee), the newswire BNS search function (www.bns.ee), and the homepage of the Estonian public news service (www.err.ee). In all sources, we used a query string with protest-related keywords in Estonian (protest* OR strike* OR picket* OR demonstr* OR riot* OR march*) and specified the period from 1991 to the end of 2019. If the returned document was considered to report on any protest event, it was coded. Protest events were defined as collective actions where three or more individuals make collective claims or express grievances to provoke collective outcomes. It is a standard protest event definition. Claims can be made by a group (e.g. social movement, interest group, CSO, political party) and/or on behalf of a social category (e.g. poor people, students, migrants). The datasets exclude events mobilized on purely individual grievances, hate crimes and public displays of anger that do not have explicit, collective claims (e.g. football riots). Coding followed an elaborate scheme.2 It referred to, among other things, the date and location of the action, the protest repertoire (e.g. strike, demonstration, petition), major claims made by the activists (e.g. against rising unemployment or a particular government policy), the target of protest action (e.g. the Estonian government), the protest organizer (e.g. trade unions, political parties, ad hoc citizens’ groups), and the duration of the protest and the number of participants. Regarding the latter, it is important to recall that the evaluation of the size of demonstrations is always somewhat approximate, as activists tend to over-report and the police to under-report the number of people attending the protest. 238

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The media-based protest event analysis has some limitations. The main problem with using news reports as a source of protest event data is that they may have a ‘reporting bias’ (Weidmann 2016). Violent or more spectacular events, events organized by well-known political groups, or events mobilized in the capital or simultaneously to other important events or policy decisions are perceived as more newsworthy and are reported more often (Earl et al. 2004). While it is likely that protest activists often travel to the capital (Tallinn) to express their concerns to the authorities, journalists are more likely to cover events closer to their offices. On the other hand, the benefit of the small state is the relatively small distance between the centre and periphery; therefore, such bias poses only a minor problem in the case of Estonia. Nonetheless, the over-reporting of large and spectacular events continues and this will be accounted for in interpreting the results. Some scholars have proposed that the tendency of the media to under-report on small events could be compensated by data from police registers (Fillieule 1996). In common with other countries, activists in Estonia have to register their events beforehand. Until the mid-2000s, the permits were given by local authorities. Today, the process is controlled by the police, and all registered protests for recent years are visible on the public website.3 However, demonstrations and public meetings registered by the police do not cover illegal and spontaneous events. These also do not indicate petitions or other forms of actions that do not require pre-registration. We coded about 900 protests from 1992 to 2019. These primarily include demonstrations and picketing (64 per cent), nationwide and local petitions (13 per cent) and strikes (5 per cent). It is hard to compare Estonian protests with other countries as similar protest datasets are not very common. However, the present author had the privilege of collecting data for protests in Sweden using the identical method of the EPD. Thus, accounting for the difference in populations – 1.3 million in Estonia and 10 million in Sweden – it is possible to say that there have been 12 protests per 1,000 persons in Sweden, compared to seven protests per 1,000 persons in Estonia. This difference would seem to confirm the argument that in Estonia there is a relatively low level of protest activism compared to Western Europe. When comparing EPD data with other public datasets focusing on protests during the Great Recession (Beissinger et al., 2014; Kriesi et al., 2020), it appears that datasets based on local language reporting cover more events than otherwise (cf. Castelli Gattinara et al., 2021). For example, Beissinger et al. (2014) report about 12 demonstrations or strikes with at least 100 participants in Estonia from 2007 to 2010, with only one of these raising economic claims. The EPD reports about 23 similar events for this period, including 11 protests regarding economic issues. Thus, it is likely that the dataset used in this study provides a more detailed list of protest events for post-1991 Estonia than other datasets.

Results: protest patterns in Estonia Protest magnitude Figure 16.1 gives an overview of the general protest trend in Estonia from 1992 to the end of 2019, both in terms of the annual number of protests (denoted by the solid line) and the yearly average number of protest activists (denoted by the dashed line). The diagram confirms the picture given by earlier studies, namely that there has been a decline in protest mobilization since the country regained its independence. However, this decline lasted only until the early 2000s, and since then the average protest pattern has remained relatively stable, despite its cyclical character. Furthermore, while the early events were relatively small, there has been an apparent increase in protest size since the 2000s.4 Since 2002, there has been a significant 239

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increase in the number of protests until the ‘Bronze Soldier’ riots of 2007 (a more detailed description is given below). Thereafter, the protests returned to the ‘usual’ level of about 35 protests per year. We will discuss some of the specific protest campaigns below. Thus, we can conclude that the answer to the first research question is that protest mobilization in Estonia has not increased significantly. An economic crisis and political turmoil characterized the early period after Estonia regained its independence. In 1992, parliamentary and presidential elections were held, and the protest issues chiefly concerned the definition of Estonian citizenship, a border agreement with the Russian Federation, and diverse economic problems such as unemployment, property ownership and low pensions. The smaller peak of protest events in 1997 indicates mobilization relating to educational reforms and teachers’ strikes in that year. The highest peak of protest size that occurred in 2000 concerned the significant mobilization against the privatization of the Estonian energy company (see Khakee, 2018). The second active period of political contention in Estonia started in 2004 when the country joined the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) and the EU. In addition to several anti-EU membership protests, the ‘War of Monuments’ (Smith, 2008) began. In particular, local nationalist activists and veterans who had served in the German army during World War II installed a monument commemorating Estonians who had fought in 1940–1945 against Bolshevism and for the restoration of Estonian independence. The government did not consider the monument appropriate and quickly removed it, leading to local riots (Smith, 2008, Brüggemann and Kasekamp, 2008). These events triggered a new wave of mobilization against different Soviet symbols, and the period ended with the first, and so far, the last, violent riots in Estonia in April 2007. These protests were related to the relocation of the war monument, the so-called Bronze Soldier, from the centre of Tallinn to the Estonian Defence Forces cemetery. While most Estonians perceived the memorial as legitimizing Soviet rule and occupation, each year members of the Russian minority gathered at the memorial on 9 May to celebrate Victory Day and to commemorate relatives lost to the Red Army (Lehti et al., 2008). The monument had been the location for various conflicts between the pro-Russian and Estonian nationalist groups for quite some time. The Estonian government wanted to avoid

Figure 16.1 The annual number of protest events and average protest size

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further escalation of the conflict and moved it on the night of 26 April. While initially the ‘Bronze Soldier’ protests were peaceful, the situation escalated to a riot that resulted in the death of one person, with about 100 people injured and significant property damage in the centre of Tallinn. The Russian activists played an crucial role in the escalation of the conflict, and Russia imposed unofficial economic sanctions on Estonia (Brüggemann and Kasekamp, 2008). The turbulence on the streets was combined with a severe cyberattack on Estonian state institutions and the media. It was one of the few times when Estonian protests reached the world media (see, for example, Traynor, 2007). Over the next two years, several members of the Russian group known as the ‘Night Watch’ mobilized smaller demonstrations in memory of the riots, and this also involved some smaller-scale confrontations with counter-activists. Nevertheless, the years after the 2007 riots were relatively quiet, and protests did not even increase in magnitude during the economic crisis (2008–2011). In 2010, two large petitions campaigns took place: one was against Estonia joining the Eurozone and another against monopolistic markets. Together these events increased the average annual size of participants, indicated by the 2010 peak, as shown by the dashed line in Figure 16.1. In terms of protest frequency, the peak that followed in 2012 was primarily related to public sector strikes by teachers (in March) and medical personnel (in October). Both called for increased salaries and were eventually successful. It was also the year of transnational mobilization against the AntiCounterfeiting Trade Agreement. In February 2012, almost 3,000 people gathered on the streets of Tallinn and Tartu (Madisson and Ventsel, 2016). The last peak – in 2017 – reflects the emerging environmental consciousness and the growing opposition to various infrastructure projects, including a large railway project known as Rail Baltica and a proposed pulp mill close to the university city Tartu. Although the government eventually cancelled the pulp mill project, the railway project is still under discussion and remains an issue for continued civil society opposition. Although the media-reported protest events declined in 2019, Estonian police records of all registered demonstrations, picketing and marches indicate a steady increase in such events from 2018 to 2020. Even though restrictions imposed following the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic prohibited large public gatherings from March to May 2020, the police registered 191 events for that year. Thus, while media reporting of protests shows a relatively stable picture, the number of events registered by the police are increasing.

The main protest issues Although earlier research suggests that due to the Russian threat and weak civil society, there was little mobilization against economic reforms of the 1990s, our data do not confirm this tendency. About 43 per cent of the protests that took place from 1992 to 1999 concerned an economic issue and were either focused on problems in the public sector (welfare, economic policies, increasing prices and taxes) or in the private sector (wages, working conditions or loss of jobs). Figure 16.2 shows that the proportion of protests dealing with economic issues has declined since the 2000s, although Estonia’s most prominent strikes occurred after 2000. There were country-wide strikes by teachers (1997, 2012), nurses and doctors (2000, 2012), and those working in the transport sector (2003, 2004, 2009). All these events concerned the issue of low wages and salaries and, to a lesser extent, working conditions. The findings of a relatively large proportion of economic protests in Estonia would seem to contradict earlier studies, which argue that quiescent labour relations in Eastern Europe are the result of a declining trade union membership and governments’ ‘divide and pacify’ policies (Vanhuysse, 2006). While it is clear that protests in the early 1990s were relatively small and 241

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did not threaten the radical liberal reforms, there were various strike threats or labour-related demonstrations or petitions. While compiling the EPD, we found several examples when trade unions threatened to strike during a collective bargaining round but eventually did not strike. Some of these threats were accompanied by demonstrations. For instance, in October 2011, about 2,000 teachers gathered in front of parliament to demand pay rises. Some of the teachers even entered the parliament building, causing confusion among security workers. Similarly, the employees of emergency services who have no legal right to strike have mobilized demonstrations for better salaries and working conditions on several occasions (1994, 2010, 2012, 2018, 2019). Thus, our data suggest that although the general population might be willing to ‘endure short-term pain for long-term gain in the form of independence, freedom and economic prosperity’ (Kattel and Raudla, 2013, p. 430) and opt for quiescence, unions still mobilized significant protests regarding economic issues. The second most prominent protest issue (12 per cent of all protests) concerned the rights of Russian minorities. Estonia has about 300,000 Russian-speaking inhabitants who live in Tallinn or the north-eastern parts of Estonia – the region most severely affected by the post-Soviet economic transition. Furthermore, the Russian-speaking community was affected by the Estonian citizenship and language laws. The first restricted citizenship to individuals who were registered Estonian citizens in June 1940 and their descendants; naturalization required applicants to sit an examination and to have knowledge of the Estonian language (Pettai and Hallik, 2002). Many Russians had moved to Estonia due to the coerced immigration by Soviet authorities after World War II. As Russians had a specific status in the Soviet Union, they did not need to learn the local language. Many Russian-speaking minorities were also antagonistic towards Estonia’s transformation into a liberal market economy and a nation-state (Vihalemm and Kalmus, 2009). The perceived unjust treatment by the authorities led to protest mobilization. Hence, during the 1990s, protests raising the issues of Russian minority rights were combined with the economic claims about unemployment, price rises or low salaries.

Figure 16.2 The main issues raised by protests during the course of three decades Note: * ‘Other’ includes a diverse set of protests, ranging from opposition to various infrastructure projects to those relating to prisoners’ rights.

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Another cause of mobilization among Russian-speaking minorities relates to issues of transitional justice regarding the manner in which the state dealt with the legacy of the Soviet regime, and how public and political authorities constructed historical images and identities – this is known as ‘memory politics’ (Onken, 2007). The Estonians have a different understanding of the events associated with the Soviet occupation and World War II from most Russian speakers in Estonia. These different views explain the previously discussed monument conflicts from 2004 to 2007 but were also reflected in the reactions to adopted citizenship and language laws in the early 1990s, to Estonia’s joining NATO (2004) and to international events such as the Iraq War (2003). In these cases, the protests for Russian minority rights were combined with anti-war and anti-NATO claims. Recently, mobilization regarding Russian minority issues has declined significantly. The decrease in the number of these protests is probably related to the fact that many former activists have grown old. While many young Russian speakers are dissatisfied with their socio-economic conditions and are distrustful of the Estonian authorities (Lauristin, 2012), they have not mobilized many protests since 2007. The third and most important issue raised by protest activists in Estonia relates to the nationalist restoration and anti-Russia frames. About 8.3 per cent of all protests call for the defence of Estonian sovereignty, language and culture and oppose Russian policies towards Estonia or its other neighbours. In the early 1990s, activists claimed that citizenship legislation was not restrictive enough and called for the restoration of Estonia’s borders according to the border agreement between Estonia and Russia in 1920 (the Tartu Peace Treaty). In particular, it was contended that the territory incorporated into Russia during the Soviet occupation should be returned to Estonia (for further details see Mälksoo, 2005). When Estonia started negotiations for joining the EU, the nationalist frames were targeted against this process, considering it a threat to the country’s sovereignty. Anti-EU protests continued after Estonia joined the EU in 2004, opposing the euro or the EU’s immigration policies. As shown in Figure 16.2, these claims were more prevalent in the 1990s and 2000s, and from the late 2000s the protests turned more against Russia’s foreign policy. In particular, Russia’s interventions in Georgia (2008) and Ukraine (2014, 2022) have led to many protests. For example, since October 2014, a small group of activists picketed against Russian intervention in Ukraine every Wednesday in front of the Russian embassy in Tallinn. Only a small proportion of the hundreds of protest events are coded in our dataset because the media does not report systematically such regular events. Although our analysis covers up to 2019, it should be noted that in reaction to Russia’s military invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, a demonstration with about 30,000 participants took place in Tallinn.5 It was the largest demonstration since the late 1980s. Although the Estonian sovereignty and anti-Russia protests declined from 2010 onwards, these have been partially replaced by nationalist anti-immigration and anti-refugee claims (see Figure 16.2). We have ‘lumped’ these together with anti-LGBT+ claims because the same conservative groups (see below) have mobilized these events. The anti-immigration protests emphasized the nationalist sovereignty argument and opposed the UN’s Global Compact for Migration and the EU’s migration policies. Several of the most radical events also carried antiIslam claims and racists messages. With nationalist and anti-Russian mobilization, these kinds of protests have risen, forming 14 per cent of all events from 2010 to 2019. While protests concerning cultural liberalism (women’s rights, human rights, LGBT+ rights) have increased somewhat, there has been a notable spike in environmental protests. Although the anti-Soviet mobilization in the late 1980s carried a clear ecological message, during the early years of democratic transition the environment was left aside. Since the 2000s, however, the various environmental claims and particularly those regarding preserving the forest and 243

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protecting animal rights, formed a noticeable proportion of Estonian protest events. Even though a relatively small group took part in most of these events (e.g. up to 30), the largest petitions against fur farming gathered about 10,000 signatures. As a result of sustained mobilization, in June 2021 parliament adopted a law banning mink farming. The ‘forest war’ (Vihma and Toikka, 2021) has not had similarly positive outcomes for activists. However, it is an ongoing mobilization, and the recent youth climate strikes have led us to expect that environmental mobilization in Estonia will continue rather than decrease.

Parties and other mobilizing groups So far, our data indicate some strengthening of the Estonian civil society over the years – the protest mobilization has not decreased, and one can note some diversification of protest issues (e.g. the increase of environmental protests). Still, as shown in Figure 16.3, since the 2000s, the protest sphere has become increasingly dominated by political parties. While workers and trade unions were one of the largest groups mobilizing strikes and demonstrations during the 1990s, protests mobilized or supported by political parties form the largest share (21 per cent) of the protest events since 2010. According to Borbáth and Hutter (2020), this is a sign of weak CSOs. The two populist parties – the leftist Eesti Keskerakond (EK – Estonian Centre Party) and the far-right Eesti Konservatiivne Rahvaerakond (EKRE – Estonian Conservative People’s Party) – have been behind most party-mobilized protests, amounting to 42 per cent from 1992 to 2019. EK has been increasingly active since the 2000s. It has mainly mobilized protests on

Figure 16.3 The main issues raised by protests over the course of three decades Note: * ‘Other’ includes farmers, cultural workers, prisoners and other smaller groups.

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economic issues, including price rises, pensions and other social benefits, and the rights of ‘forced tenants’.6 EKRE, founded in 2012, has actively mobilized demonstrations and petitions against refugees, immigration and LGTB+ rights. Many of their anti-refugee actions brought together significant masses. In close cooperation with a religious organization seeking to preserve traditional values in Estonia, they aimed to organize a referendum that would recognize marriage only as a union between a man and a woman and include such a provision in the Estonian Constitution. This mobilization did not attain its objective because the coalition government comprising EKRE, EK and the minor Isamaa Erakond (Pro Patria Party) collapsed in January 2021. Although our analysis ends in 2019, it is noteworthy that several EKRE members also mobilized and supported illegal protests against the restrictions introduced to curb the spread of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2021 and 2022.

Conclusion This chapter has sought to provide a systematic picture of protest mobilization in Estonia and to respond to two related research questions about protest trends, dominating issues and groups behind mobilizations. Earlier research into Estonia’s civil society usually concluded that there is little political contention in this country. Following Foa and Ekiert’s (2017) suggestion to look for broader data than surveys and the number of NGOs, we have used a unique protest event dataset. The results of our protest event analysis presented in this chapter are in line with earlier studies in terms of the decreasing protest frequency during the 1990s. However, we have shown that the number of protests in Estonia increased in the mid-2000s and has remained stable since then. The average number of participants even seems to be increasing. The lack of many disruptive events, with the exception of the ‘War of Monuments’ riots of 2007, signifies a relatively peaceful political culture that also characterizes other countries in the region. In response to the second question, relating to the groups that mobilize these protests and the main issues raised by protesters, the analysis showed that the largest proportion of protests related to economic issues in the Estonian protest scene during the 1990s, but that the number of protests regarding the rights of Russian minorities declined from the 2010s onwards, while the number of environmental protests has increased since the 2000s. Even though earlier research has suggested that the Estonian public is relatively patient, the more diversified mobilization – regarding cultural liberal and conservative values and the environment – shows that Estonian civil society has become somewhat similar to that of Western Europe. However, the country is still closer to its Central European neighbours because of the notable role of political parties mobilizing and supporting protest events. These latest trends call for further research. It would also be useful to examine in more detail how the different social movements in Estonia have sustained their mobilization after the challenges brought forward by the health and security crises of the 2020s.

Notes 1 Participation was somewhat higher in neighbouring Latvia (3.5 per cent) and Finland (3.9 per cent), while in Sweden it was 11 per cent. See www.europeansocialsurvey.org. 2 The full codebook with detailed definitions of each variable is available from the author on request. Since multiple coders were involved in the process, we ran tests to check for inter-coder reliability. 3 We downloaded these data for 2018–2020, and also asked the police to provide information about registered protest events for prior years. Contemporary protest information can be found on the webpage of the Estonian police (www.politsei.ee/et/koosolekud?leht=1). 245

Katrin Uba 4 It is also important to note that the trend of protesting shown in prior studies – particularly in Kriesi et al. (2020, p. 96) regarding Estonian protests from 2008 to 2015 – and the one in Figure 16.1 are very similar even though Kriesi et al. (2020) have significantly fewer events in their records. 5 www.err.ee/1608513611/galerii-rahvarohke-meeleavaldus-vabaduse-valjakul-ukraina-toetuseks. 6 ‘Forced tenants’ comprise a relatively large group of people (about 100,000 persons) who live in houses and apartments that were confiscated by the Soviet authorities in the 1940s, and which the Estonian government restored to their pre-Soviet era owners or their descendants in the early 1990s. While these people were tenants even during the Soviet era, they were afraid of losing their homes or face significant price rises (see for further details Pettai, 2007).

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Lagerspetz, M., Rikmann, E., and Ruutsoo, R. (2002). The Structure and Resources of NGOs in Estonia. Voluntas: International Journal of Voluntary and Nonprofit Organisations, 13(1), 73–87. Lauristin, M. (2012). Lõimumisprotsessi tulemuslikkus ja sihtrühmad: Klasteranalüüs (The Results of the Integration Process: A Cluster Analysis). Integratsiooni Monitooring 2011, 194–207. Lauristin, M., and Vihalemm, P. (2009). The Political Agenda during Different Periods of Estonian Transformation: External and Internal Factors. Journal of Baltic Studies, 40(1), 1–28. Lehti, M., Jutila, M., and Jokisipilä, M. (2008). Never-ending Second World War: Public Performances of National Dignity and the Drama of the Bronze Soldier. Journal of Baltic Studies, 39(4), 393–418. Madisson, M. L., and Ventsel, A. (2016). ‘Freedom of Speech’ in the Self-descriptions of the Estonian Extreme Right Groupuscules. National Identities, 18(2), 89–104. Mälksoo, L. (2005). Which Continuity? The Tartu Peace Treaty of the 2nd of February 1920, the Estonian-Russian Border Treaties of 2005 and the Legal Debate about Estonia’s Status in International Law. Archiv des Völkerrechts, 43(4), 513–524. Onken, E. C. (2007). The Baltic States and Moscow’s 9 May Commemoration: Analysing Memory Politics in Europe. Europe-Asia Studies, 59(1), 23–46. Pettai, V. A. (2004). Framing the Past as Future: The Power of Legal Restorationism in Estonia. Columbia University Press. Pettai, V. (2007) The Construction of State Identity and its Legacies: Legal Restorationism in Estonia. Ab Impero, 2, 403–426. Pettai, V., and Hallik, K. (2002) Understanding Process of Ethnic ‘Control’: Segmentation, Dependency and Co-optation in Post-Communist Estonia, Nations and Nationalism, 8(4), 505–529. Raik, K. (2003) Democratic Politics or the Implementation of Inevitabilities? Estonia’s Democracy and Integration into the European Union. Tartu University Press. Ruutsoo, R. (2002). Civil Society and Nation Building in Estonia and the Baltic States: Impact of Traditions on Mobilisation and Transition 1986–2000. Historical and Sociological Study. University of Lappland. Ruutsoo, R. (2009). Kodanikuühiskond ja kodanikultuur (Civil Society and Civic Culture). Acta Politica Estica, 3, 218–242. Taagepera, R. (2018). Estonia: Return to Independence. Routledge. Smith, D. J. (2008). ‘Woe from Stones’: Commemoration, Identity Politics and Estonia’s ‘War of Monuments’. Journal of Baltic Studies, 39(4), 419–430. Traynor, I. (2007) ‘Russia Accused of Unleashing Cyberwar to Disable Estonia’. The Guardian, 17 May. www.theguardian.com/world/2007/may/17/topstories3.russia. Vanhuysse, P. (2006). Divide and Pacify: Strategic Social Policies and Political Protests in Post-communist Democracies. Central European University Press. Van Stekelenburg, J., and Klandermans, B. (2013). The Social Psychology of Protest. Current Sociology, 61 (5–6), 886–905. Vihalemm, T., and Kalmus, V. (2009). Cultural Differentiation of the Russian Minority. Journal of Baltic Studies, 40(1), 95–119. Vihalemm, P., Lauristin, M., and Tallo, I. (1997). Development of Political Culture in Estonia. In M. Lauristin and P. Vihalemm (Eds), Return to the Western World: Cultural and Political Perspectives on the Estonian Post-communist Transition (pp. 197–210). Tartu University Press. Vihma, P., and Toikka, A. (2021). The Limits of Collaborative Governance: The Role of Inter-group Learning and Trust in the Case of the Estonian ‘Forest War’. Environmental Policy and Governance, 31(5), 403–416. Visser, J. (2015). ICTWSS: Data Base on Institutional Characteristics of Trade Unions, Wage Setting, State Intervention and Social Pacts, 1960–2014 (Version 5.0). Amsterdam Institute for Advanced Labour Studies. www.uva-aias.net/nl/data/ictwss. Weidmann, N. B. (2016). A Closer Look at Reporting Bias in Conflict Event Data. American Journal of Political Science, 60(1), 206–218.

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17 The strength of civil society in Slovenia after three decades of post-communist experience Tatjana Rakar and Tomaž Deželan

Introduction Slovenia is a Central European country that was part of the Austro-Hungarian monarchy until the end of the First World War. Thereafter it belonged to various constitutional forms of Yugoslavia until 1991. Its geographical location and historical connections created special conditions for the development of the civil society sector. These conditions were similar to those found in Central European countries up until the Second World War and were particularly shaped after 1945, when a specific form of socialist regime was introduced. Accordingly, the development of civil society organizations (CSOs)1 in Slovenia should be understood within the specificities of the economic and political regime in the former Yugoslavia, and in particular within the structure of the state socialist welfare system (see Sik and Svetlik, 1988; Evers and Wintersberger, 1988; Svetlik, 1988).2 This chapter provides an overview of civil society in Slovenia after three decades of postcommunist experience marked by the introduction of the market capitalist system of production and political pluralism. The three-decade development of civil society in Slovenia is analysed and discussed within the framework of developments in the welfare system and through the lens of relations with the state, thus linking it to civil dialogue. Special attention is paid to the period after Slovenia gained its independence, when the number of CSOs grew considerably. We also pay special attention to the present day, identifying the particular challenges faced by CSOs in the context of dealing with the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020 and the decreasing level of civil dialogue between CSOs and the Slovenian state authorities. For this overview, we use the indicators of the Johns Hopkins Comparative Nonprofit Sector Project (see Salamon et al., 1999) and the Civil Society Index developed by CIVICUS (see Anheier et al., 2001) as the key components of our diachronic comparative framework. The analysis is based on different surveys taken from different periods after Slovenia’s independence. Data were collected through three surveys of a representative sample of CSOs in Slovenia, first in 1996 (Kolaricˇ et al., 2002), then in 2006 (Kolaricˇ et al., 2006) and most recently in 2022 (Deželan and Rakar, 2022). The surveys are based on the methodology used

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DOI: 10.4324/9781003341536-21

Civil society in Slovenia after three decades of post-communist experience

in the Johns Hopkins Comparative Nonprofit Sector project (Salamon et al., 1999, 2004). In addition, we used quantitative and qualitative data collected during the participatory comparative action research project CIVICUS Civil Society Index (see Anheier et al., 2001), which assessed the state of civil society in various countries, including Slovenia, in 2009 (Rakar and Nagode, 2009; Rakar et al., 2011). The chapter is divided into six sections. Following this introductory section we provide a historical background to civil society in Slovenia in order to explain the way in which it has developed, focusing on the main indicators relating to the sector and to the role of CSOs in the framework of the Slovenian welfare system. The characteristics, structure and development of the Slovenian civil society sector are then discussed, based on the survey data described above. The section that follows deals with the Slovenian welfare system and the role of CSOs in this regard, referring to civil dialogue over the last three decades. The chapter concludes by discussing some implications of the findings and suggesting possible areas of further research.

Historical background to the development of civil society in Slovenia Various historical overviews show that Slovenia has a long and extensive tradition of people’s ˇ 2020). Prior interest associations and self-organization (Kolaricˇ et al., 2002; Rakar and Kolaric, to the development of a welfare state, which took place after the ending of the Second World War, CSOs working alongside the informal sector were the main providers of public goods and services. Before the Second World War, there were 8,000 CSOs in Slovenia (figures for 1938 show that there were 6,014 associations and 1,677 cooperatives) (Kolaricˇ et al., 2002; ˇ 2020). Rakar and Kolaric, The development of CSOs in the post-Second World War period can be explained by the specifics of the economic and political regime in the former Yugoslavia, which began to deviate from the Soviet model in the early 1950s (Unkovski-Korica, 2011). The main distinguishing feature of the new regime was the introduction of a self-management system in the economy and the public sphere, which led to an increasingly decentralized public administration, greater independence of enterprises and other organizations from the state, a bigger role for market forces, a better standard of living and more freedom for individuals in terms of their self-organization and contacts with the outside world (see Liebman, 1986; Whitehorn, 1978; Unkovski-Korica, 2011). This period after the Second World War can be divided into four sub-periods as follows ˇ (Crnak Meglicˇ and Rakar, 2009; Rakar et al., 2011). The first sub-period is that of state socialism (which lasted until the early 1970s), when the socialist revolution put an end to the tradition of many CSOs. During the period of state socialism, the public sector took over virtually all the functions of CSOs. The tradition of a strong and developed civil society sector was interrupted and only a small number of CSOs were able to continue their work, on new basis that allowed only one type of CSOs-associations (Kladnik and Lindenberger, 2019; Kladnik, 2020). Characteristic of this period was a much smaller number of CSOs than in the period between the two world wars. In 1965 there were 6,919 associations and in 1975 only 6,761 (see Figure 17.1; Kolaricˇ et al., 2002; Rakar and Kolaric, ˇ 2020). The second sub-period is one of self-managed socialism in the 1970s. During this period, decentralization (or rather the transfer of responsibility for the provision and financing of public goods and services to municipalities) and the weakening of state control over the activities of associations, brought about by the Act on Associations (1974), facilitated the establishment of new organizations. A new space emerged for the creation of CSOs from the bottom up, i.e. on the initiative of citizens and not just on the initiative of the state. As a result, CSOs, especially 249

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the newly established ones, became more autonomous, but communication with the state remained limited. Moreover, the state did not involve them in the production of public goods and services or in the process of asserting interests. The third sub-period is characterized by the emergence of new social movements in the 1980s and the development of CSOs. Various new social movements (peace, ecological, feminist, spiritual, subcultural, etc.) began to spread and create an alternative network for the production of goods and services, in addition to political activism and advocacy. They operated in the form of working groups within different organizations (e.g. the youth branch of the reformed Communist Party of Slovenia). Gradually they started to become independent and as such part of civil society. During this period, civil society was built as an alternative to the official political structure. However, by the end of the 1980s, the autonomous activity of the new social movements was already limited to political activities. In the 1990s, a considerable number of protagonists of the new social movements were integrated into political parties and later into the state establishment (see Repe et al., 2017). Only a small remnant of the new social movements remained within the framework of civil society. They organized themselves into associations and other non-governmental organizations operating in areas such as alternative approaches to social work and psychiatry, providing psychosocial support for needy groups within the population, alternative cultural production, etc. Figures show that the number of associations increased by 64 per cent during the period from 1975 to 1985 (see Figure 17.1; Kolaricˇ et al., 2002; Rakar and Kolaric, ˇ 2020). The period of transition to political pluralism and market capitalist economic production after 1990 is characterized by the process of deregulation that began in the 1970s and was not completed until the mid-1990s. At that time, new laws were passed that regulated the

Figure 17.1 The increase in the number of CSOs in Slovenia between 1965 and 2020* Note: * Data for 1970 and 2000 were not available. Source: 1965–2005: Kolaricˇ et al., 2002; Kolaricˇ et al., 2006; 2010–2020: Centre for Information, Development and Co-operation of Non-governmental Organizations (CNVOS), www. cnvos.si/media/filer_public/1c/58/1c58587f-69e6-4d43-a1c7-a6020b14eceb/stevilo-nvo-2020. pdf.

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basis for the activities of all kinds of CSOs (e.g. foundations, private institutes3). The same laws also abolished the state monopoly over the production of social and other services. The Act on Foundations (1994) facilitated the establishment of foundations, while the Act on Institutes (1991) facilitated the establishment of private institutes and the political changes encouraged the re-establishment of church organizations, which had been operating illegally until then. The number of organizations almost doubled during this period. During the post-independence period in Slovenia, the number of CSOs has steadily increased by about 500 organizations per year, mainly in the form of institutes, while the number of associations has decreased. Between 2015 and 2020, the number of CSOs grew more slowly (see Figure 17.1).

Characteristics and structure of the Slovenian civil society sector CSOs in the former socialist countries had specific characteristics which distinguished them from those in other countries. These differences can be explained in the context of the state socialist welfare system that was established in these societies during the last 50 years of their socialist development. This system determined the character of CSOs, which at that time were not regarded as important providers of services, as these were supplied by the state. Nonetheless, CSOs were important because they helped informal social networks to take care of their members. CSOs mostly existed in the form of associations that included a large proportion of volunteers and very few employees; they were active in all sectors and were most numerous in the areas of sport, leisure and culture (Kolaricˇ et al., 2002; Rakar et al., 2011). Research has shown that the characteristics of the former state socialist welfare system were particularly important for the development of CSOs during the country’s transition to democracy (Kolaricˇ et al., 2002; Kolaricˇ et al., 2006). The information in this sub-section was gleaned from the data sources referred to in the introduction to this chapter.

Primary fields of activity In Slovenia, as in all the other former socialist countries, associations are the most common form of CSO. Other types of organizations such as private institutes, foundations and social enterprises are far less common, although the process of their establishment intensified during the transition period. Thus, in 2020, among all CSOs, 86.6 per cent were associations, 12.5 per cent were private institutes and 0.9 per cent were foundations (CNVOS, 2022; Deželan and Rakar, 2022). The pattern is also evident from way in which the civil society sector is structured according to its primary areas of activity. CSOs are still most active in the areas in which they were active in the past, such as sport, leisure and culture, although things are gradually changing. In 2006, they were particularly prolific in sport and recreation (27.6 per cent), followed by culture (17.7 per cent). There were also many CSOs operating in the area of professional associations (9.8 per cent), local community development and housing (9.1 per cent), fire and rescue services (8.7 per cent), but significantly fewer CSOs working in the area of education (4.5 per cent) (Kolaricˇ et al., 2006). The results of the 2022 survey (Deželan and Rakar, 2022) showed that while arts and culture and sports and recreation are still among the most common primary orientations of CSOs, it is becoming more common for them to provide services that used to be the preserve of the state. Social care is the most common primary orientation of organizations (14.6 per cent). Education (9.5 per cent) and youth (6.3 per cent in the form of informal education) also represent an important part of the sector (see Figure 17.2). 251

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Figure 17.2 CSOs’ primary fields of activity Source: Deželan and Rakar (2022).

CSOs as employers The common characteristics of the post-socialist countries are evident from the comparative data on the development of the civil society sector in these countries, which show that despite its rapid development over the past three decades (see Figure 17.1), the civil society sector still plays a marginal role in the provision of collective goods and services, as measured by its share of employees in the country. In 2020, the share of employees working for CSOs in Slovenia was just 1.08 per cent (10,670 employees out of a total active population of 990,747), but this number has grown steadily since 2009, despite the devastating impact of the global financial and economic crisis that Slovenian organizations mostly felt between 2009 and 2014 (see Figure 17.3). However, comparison with other countries included in the Johns Hopkins Comparative Nonprofit Sector Project shows that the share is still relatively very low. In 2017, the average share of employment in the civil society sector in the 44 countries included in the Johns Hopkins Comparative Non-profit Sector Project was 3.3 per cent and 3.67 per cent for the European Union countries. Slovenia thus has one of the least developed civil society sectors when considering one of the main indicators of the sector’s development (i.e. professionalization measured by the rate of employment in the sector). In the past, the role of the Slovenian civil society sector in the delivery of services was severely underdeveloped, which was particularly evident in the areas of social care, health care and education (Rakar et al., 2011; Rakar and Kolaric, ˇ 2020). The Johns Hopkins Comparative Nonprofit Sector Project found that the civil society sector worldwide primarily performs service activities, while the common feature of the post-socialist as well as the Scandinavian countries are the predominantly expressive activities of the civil society sector (e.g. arts and culture, sport and recreation, policy advocacy, environmental protection) (Salamon et al., 2004). Studies relating to the 1990s and the first decade of the new millennium (Kolaricˇ et al., 2002; Kolaricˇ et al., 2006; Rakar and Nagode, 2009) have shown that despite the rapid growth of the civil society sector, no major changes occurred in the Slovenian civil society sector after the change of the political system, as the vast majority of organizations still performed 252

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Figure 17.3 Share of civil society sector employees in the labour force Source: CNVOS (2022).

expressive activities, predominantly in the field of sport and culture. Although this pattern persists, the results of the 2022 survey (Deželan and Rakar, 2022), indicate that things are starting to change, as elements of professionalization are also visible in the services offered by the civil society sector, measured in terms of the number of paid staff. The survey found that 45.4 per cent of total paid staff in CSOs work in the services sector, with most of them working in education and social care. For volunteers, the situation is similar to that of past decades, with only 26.28 per cent of all volunteers in the civil society sector are engaged in service delivery.

Sources of funding As far as the funding of the Slovenian civil society sector is concerned, gradual changes have taken place during the three decades since the country gained its independence. Initially, at the beginning of sector’s development, membership fees were the main source of income for CSOs. In addition, public funding, chiefly in the form of municipal funding, allowed CSOs to employ staff, especially in social care (e.g. in organizations for the disabled), as well as corporate sponsorship, which ensured the operation of CSOs in the field of sport. The financing structure of the Slovenian civil society sector changed with the increase in public funding, especially that originating from the state budget, and the increase in market income from the provision of goods and services. At the same time, membership fees represented a diminishing proportion of the funding of Slovenian civil society in general, but still represented an important and sometimes the only source of funding for member-serving organizations. The CSO survey conducted by Deželan and Rakar (2022) found that in that year, 46 per cent of public funding was divided between the state budget (21 per cent), funds from public foundations (10 per cent), local budgets (9.7 per cent) and EU funds (4 per cent) (see Figure 17.4). Apart from public funds, the provision of goods and services represents the second largest budget item (34.1 per cent), followed by donations (7.9 per cent) and membership fees (2.5 per cent). 253

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Figure 17.4 Main sources of funding for Slovenian CSOs, 2022 Source: Deželan and Rakar (2022).

Comparison with the EU and globally The Johns Hopkins Comparative Nonprofit Sector exercise shows that measured by the two most important dimensions of sector development (employment and funding), the position of the civil society sector in Slovenia is relatively weak when compared to other countries. As shown above, CSOs in Slovenia employ a comparatively small share of all the country’s labour force and their revenues represented only 1.91 per cent of gross domestic product (GDP) in 2020 (CNVOS, 2022; Salamon et al., 2013; Salamon et al., 2017). Moreover, despite the significant increase in the number of CSOs over the past three decades, the share of CSO revenues in the country’s GDP has remained virtually the same; in 1996, the share was 1.92 per cent (CNVOS, 2022). This makes the Slovenian civil society sector one of the least developed in Europe. According to the latest major Johns Hopkins International Comparative Project, relating to 2013, globally CSOs’ revenues as a share of GDP was on average 4.13 per cent while the EU average was 3.8 per cent (see Salamon et al., 2013).

The Slovenian welfare system and the state of civil dialogue The civil society sector in Slovenia had an important role in the changing post-socialist welfare system, mainly in terms of complementarity (in terms of complementing the services that the public sector does not provide in sufficient quantity or quality) and to a much lesser extent in terms of subsidiarity (in terms of acting as a substitute for the services that should be provided by the public sector). This matter will be discussed in this section.

The development of the Slovenian welfare system In the context of the transition from socialist to post-socialist society, the Slovenian welfare system formally existed in the first half of the 1990s as a dual model composed of elements typical of both the conservative corporate and social democratic welfare systems (Kolaricˇ et al., 2009, 2011; Filipovicˇ Hrast and Rakar, 2017, 2020). Compulsory social insurance schemes became a fully transparent and primary instrument for providing social protection to workers and their family members. At the same time, the strong public/state sector retained the status of 254

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the dominant service provider of all types of services to which all citizens are equally entitled. Gradually, a complementary relationship developed between the public/state and civil society sector, and state support for the informal sector ( i.e. helping people to achieve a good worklife balance) gradually increased. These elements are characteristic of the social democratic welfare system (Kolaricˇ et al., 2011; Bengtsson and Hulgard, 2001). The network of public/state institutions retained a central position in providing various services that were accessible to all citizens on equal terms. Similarly to the social democratic welfare system, a well-developed and comprehensive network of public/state institutions did not leave much room for the development of CSOs as service providers. However, CSOs grew in importance in terms of their complementary relationship to the public sector. They emerged not only in the form of associations, but also in the form of service providers, cooperatives, social enterprises and foundations. They were established by private individuals and legal entities, among which the Roman Catholic Church is particularly noteworthy as the founder of educational institutions, kindergartens, care institutions for the elderly, mothers’ homes, support communities for drug and alcohol addicts, and others. Thus, the civil society sector gradually developed and strengthened its role, mostly under the conditions of special concessionary agreements regulating the supplementation of public/state service provision in all areas where these services were either not provided to a sufficient extent or were of poor quality. The civil society sector did not replace the services that the public sector/governmental organizations were expected to provide, and the well-developed and comprehensive public sector was seen as a positive feature of the Slovenian welfare system, which has many similarities with social democratic welfare system (Schubert et al., 2009). The features described above suggest that Slovenia did not experience the so-called welfare gap during the transition period, as was the case in many other post-socialist countries (Kolaricˇ et al., 2009, 2011; Filipovicˇ Hrast and Rakar, 2017, 2020; Ferge, 2001). Such a dual model of the welfare system was based on the policy agenda of the left-leaning section of the political elite, which – unlike the political elites in most other post-socialist countries – rejected reforms based on the principle of ‘shock therapy’ advocated by the international monetary institutions. These called for immediate privatization of the economy, deregulation of markets, including the labour market, privatization and commercialization of the public/state sector, and cuts in public/state social spending for the provision of social protection and welfare of citizens. In contrast to such policy agenda of transforming the former socialist welfare system into a liberal welfare system, as was the case for example in Hungary (see Ferge and Juhasz, 2004), Slovenia has maintained the dominant provision of services by the public sector, and this is characteristic of the social democratic welfare system in Scandinavian countries.

Civil dialogue Slovenia suffers from underdeveloped and poorly functioning civil dialogue, broadly defined as that between CSOs and the government (at national, regional and local level) in all areas of their cooperation (Rakar and Deželan, 2016). This has an important impact on public policy. The participation of civil society in the policymaking and decision-making process is very important to legitimize government policies, inform the authorities about the needs of society and strengthen the ownership of policies by non-state actors.4 As CSOs can represent citizens’ interests and voices in this process (Osborne et al., 2005), civil dialogue improves the flow of information between the authorities and the public and democratizes public policy. In our analysis of the role of CSOs in the Slovenian welfare system, civil dialogue is measured by the frequency, forms and impact of cooperation between CSOs and the authorities. 255

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Willingness to cooperate We look at the state of civil dialogue from the point of view of willingness to cooperate on the part of the authorities as well as on the part of CSOs, and the extent and impact of existing cooperation. In addition, the general perception of the role of civil society is examined, in terms of individual CSOs as well as the sector in general. When it comes to the call for cooperation, national and local authorities do make efforts to cooperate, but large discrepancies between the different levels of government can be observed. National governments are more reluctant than local governments to seek cooperation with CSOs, but this situation is gradually changing. According to a study carried out by Kolaricˇ et al. (2006), in 2006 about seven out of 10 CSOs had never received an invitation to cooperate with the national authorities, compared with one out of four CSOs with respect to local governments (see Figure 17.5). In 2022, the frequency of invitations for CSOs to cooperate at the local level remained more or less the same, apart from occasional invitations. However, the motivation to cooperate had actually decreased slightly, although the situation did improve at the national level, given that in 2022 the number of CSOs invited to cooperate by the national government, even occasionally, increased by 17 per cent. Moreover, it emerged that (a) the authorities, especially those operating at the national level, do not seem to assign importance to civil dialogue and (b) only a small percentage of organizations systematically receive invitations to collaborate. The situation is similar when CSOs invite local and national authorities to cooperate. In this case too, local authorities are logically a more frequent and arguably better target for cooperation, but the attitude of organizations is visibly changing (Deželan and Rakar, 2022). Recognizing that participation in the policymaking process is crucial to their success and the achievement of desired policy outcomes, CSOs were markedly more proactive in 2022 than they were in 2006, as can be seen from Figure 17.6. In fact, in 2006, 68 per cent of CSOs had never tried to initiate cooperation with the national authorities and 24 per cent had never done

Figure 17.5 Percentage of CSOs invited to cooperate by national and local governments Source: Kolaricˇ et al. (2006), Rakar and Kolaricˇ (2020), Deželan and Rakar (2022).

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Figure 17.6 The extent of CSOs’ willingness to engage with the authorities Source: Kolaricˇ et al. (2006); Deželan and Rakar (2022).

so at the local level. In 2022, only 34 per cent of CSOs of them still reported that they had never approached the national authorities and only 12 per cent that they had never approached the local authorities. This suggests that CSOs are more willing to engage in civil dialogue than authorities are willing to cooperate with CSOs, which is a positive sign, but can also lead to CSOs withdrawing if their calls go unanswered.

Figure 17.7 The overall influence of civil society on policymaking in Slovenia Source: Rakar and Nagode (2009); Deželan and Rakar (2022).

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Perceived impact Even though the situation is changing, the improvement in perceived impact is nowhere near as great as the practise of inviting and initiating collaboration. Figure 17.7 shows that about 67 per cent of all CSOs reported that civil society had very little or no impact on policymaking in 2022, although more organizations reported a high impact in 2022 compared to 2009.

Government policy regarding civil dialogue These findings should be discussed in the context of government policy regarding the development of civil dialogue in Slovenia after it had gained its independence. In 2003, the Slovenian government adopted a ‘Strategy of Cooperation of the Government of the Republic of Slovenia with Non-Governmental Organisations’ (Government of the Republic of Slovenia, 2003) to improve the design of civil dialogue in Slovenia. In this context, a special ‘Agreement on Cooperation between Non-Governmental Organisations and the Government of the Republic of Slovenia’ (Government of the Republic of Slovenia, 2005), prepared by a special negotiating group with representatives of CSOs and the government, was to be signed. However, the negotiations were soon broken off and the agreement was never signed. This was the first attempt after Slovenia’s independence to unite the civil society sector with the aim of influencing government policy. However, in practice the government adopted a tactic to weaken CSOs by introducing a very convoluted negotiation process (Rakar et al., 2011). Currently, the situation in Slovenia with regard to civil dialogue has deteriorated considerably, as recent data on government-civil society relations show. A survey of CSOs conducted in 2022 (Deželan and Rakar, 2022) indicated that 70 per cent of organizations perceive the state of civil dialogue as inadequate or barely adequate and only 8 per cent of organizations describe it as good or excellent. Similarly, 45.1 per cent of all organizations surveyed perceived the government’s attitude towards CSOs as inadequate and a further 27 per cent as barely adequate. On the other hand, only 10.6 per cent of all CSOs perceived it as very good or outstanding. A clear indication of the negative attitude towards civil society are the numerous statements made by high-ranking

Figure 17.8 How would you describe the relationship between the state and civil society in Slovenia? Source: Rakar and Nagode (2009); Deželan and Rakar (2022).

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government representatives from the leading right-wing political party in the past two years (see, for example, Government of the Republic of Slovenia, 2021). It is therefore not surprising that when it comes to state control over CSOs in Slovenia, and the degree of autonomy of an organization in its actions, the results paint a worrying picture. According to a recent study (Deželan and Rakar, 2022), even though the situation has improved since 2009, only about 6 per cent of organizations believe that civil society is fully autonomous. At the same time, more than 71 per cent of organizations believe that the state either controls civil society or has a strong influence on it (see Figure 17.8). The results show that a very large proportion of CSOs perceive the state as having excessive influence over civil society.

Conclusion This chapter has found that over the past three decades, the civil society sector in Slovenia has grown in terms of the number of organizations, but at the same time it has not developed significantly according to the parameters that we use to measure the development of the sector, such as the level of employment in the civil society sector and the share of the sector’s income in the country’s GDP, which have changed only slightly. The analysis of civil dialogue, looking at CSOs’ initiatives to engage with national and local governments and government initiatives to engage with CSOs during the period under study also showed that such initiatives were not very frequent on either part. They were limited to occasional cooperation, with the initiative coming mostly from the CSOs and rarely from the government. Moreover, the occasional initiatives by CSOs tended to be limited to the local level. In line with the results presented, it is understandable that the majority of CSOs, when asked about their perception of civil society’s influence on government decisions, reported very little or no influence. From this we can conclude that Slovenia has a low level of cooperation and communication between CSOs and the government, leading to a low level of civil dialogue. As a result of the negative attitudes toward CSOs between 2020 and 2022 during the COVID-19 pandemic, new initiatives from civil society emerged (formalized and non-formalized) to reinstate the importance of civil dialogue and cooperation between the state and CSOs and the creation of mechanisms supporting mutual interaction. This galvanized some sections of the population that might usually show greater passivity to cast their votes in the latest national election as well as in an earlier referendum on changes to the country’s water management laws, which proved to be a pivotal case. The newly elected central-left government appears to have understood the democratic potential of CSOs, if we go by its renewed narrative on civil society and its contribution to the functioning of the state. This possible change in civil dialogue and the government’s attitude towards the role of CSOs in Slovenia also demands a renewed examination of the capacity of civil society to contribute to the development of a welfare-oriented democratic society.

Notes 1 By CSOs we mean private non-profit organizations defined according to the structural-operational definition of the Johns Hopkins Comparative Nonprofit Sector Project (Salamon et al., 1999, 2004). 2 The concept of the welfare system was introduced to East-West European discussions on social policy in the late 1980s. It is a broader term than the concept of the welfare state. The welfare system is an open and universal concept that encompasses not only the institutions, programmes and measures with which the state provides social protection and welfare to its citizens, but also those that develop and 259

Tatjana Rakar and Tomaž Deželan function according to the logic of the market, as well as those that operate in the sphere of civil society and community (Kolaricˇ et al., 2002). 3 Private institutes are a legal form of CSOs in Slovenia that are set up to perform activities in the fields of education, science, culture, sports, health care, social services, childcare, older people and disability care, social security and other activities if their goal is not to maximize their profits. They are not membership organizations. 4 In this regard, there is an important difference between the Slovenian welfare system and that of the Scandinavian countries. In these countries, CSOs are well integrated into public policymaking and delivery and are thus also recognized as important representatives of civil society interests (Kuhnle and Selle, 1992).

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ˇ ˇ Z., Crnak-Meglic, ˇ A., Rihter, L., Boškic, ˇ R., and Rakar, T. (2006). Raziskava Nevladne organiKolaric, zacije v Sloveniji, Raziskovalni projekt CRP Konkurecˇnost Slovenije 2001–2006 (Celovita analiza pravnega in ekonomskega okvirja za delo nevladnih organizacij). Faculty of Social Sciences, University of Ljubljana. ˇ Z., Kopac, ˇ A., and Rakar, T. (2009). The Slovene Welfare System: Gradual Reform Instead of Kolaric, Shock Treatment. In K. Schubert, S. Hegelich and U. Bazant (Eds), The Handbook of European Welfare Systems (1st edn, pp. 444–461). Routledge. ˇ Z., Kopac, ˇ A., and Rakar, T. (2011). Welfare States in Transition: The Development of the Kolaric, Welfare System in Slovenia. In S. Dehnert, and M. Stambolieva (Eds), Welfare States in Transition: 20 Years after the Yugoslav Welfare Model (pp. 288–309). Friedrich Ebert Foundation. Kuhnle, S., and Selle, P. (1992). Government and Voluntary Organisations: A Relational Perspective. In S. Kuhnle andP. Selle (Eds), Government and Voluntary Organisations: A Relational Perspective (pp. 1–33). Avebury Ashgate Publishing Limited. Liebman, H. M. (1986). Comments on the Effects of Workers’ Self-management on Yugoslav Joint Ventures, Maryland Journal of International Law, 10(1), 89–128. http://digitalcommons.law.umaryland. edu/mjil/vol10/iss1/5. Osborne, S. P., Fabian, G., Jenei, G., and Kuti, E. (2005). Government/non-profit Partnerships, Public Services Delivery and Civil Society in the Transitional Nations of Eastern Europe. Lessons from the Hungarian Experience. International Journal of Public Administration, 28(9–10), 767–786. ˇ Rakar, T., and Deželan, T. (2016). Opolnomocenje civilnodružbenih organizacij v Sloveniji. Teorija in praksa, 53(2), 449–468. ˇ Z. (2020). The Role of Civil Society Organisations in the Slovenian Welfare Rakar, T., and Kolaric, System during the Transition Period after 1990. Südosteuropa: Zeitschrift für Gegenwartsforschung, 68(2), 130–147. Rakar, T., and Nagode, M. (2009). Raziskava indeks civilne družbe: Vmesno porocˇilo. IRSSV. ˇ ˇ Z., Crnak-Meglic ˇ A., and Nagode, M. (2011). Civil Society in Rakar, T., Deželan, T., Vrbica, S., Kolaric, Slovenia. Uradni list Republike Slovenije. Repe, B., Kerec, D., Aljec, K., and Vehar, M. (2017). Slovenija, moja dežela: Družbena revolucija v osemdesetih letih. Cankarjeva založba. Salamon, L. M, Anheier, H. K., List, R., Toepler, S., Sokolowski S. W., et al. (1999). Global Civil Society: Dimensions of the Nonprofit Sector. The Johns Hopkins Comparative Nonprofit Sector Project. The Johns Hopkins Center for Civil Society Studies, Johns Hopkins University. Salamon, L. M., Sokolowski, S. W., et al. (2004). Global Civil Society: Dimensions of the Nonprofit Sector (Vol. 2). The Johns Hopkins Comparative Nonprofit Sector Project. Kumarian Press, Inc. Salamon, L. M., Sokolowski, S. W., Haddock, M. A., and Tice, H. S. (2013). The State of Global Civil Society and Volunteering: Latest Findings from the Implementation of the UN Nonprofit Handbook. Working Paper No. 49. Johns Hopkins Center for Civil Society Studies, The Johns Hopkins University. Salamon, L.M., Sokolowski, S. W., Haddock, M. A., et al. (2017). Explaining Civil Society Development: A Social Origins Approach. Johns Hopkins University Press. Schubert, K., Hegelich, S., and Bazant, U. (Eds) (2009). The Handbook of European Welfare Systems (1st edn). Routledge. Sik, E., and Svetlik, I. (1988). Similarities and Differences. In A. Evers andH. Wintersberger (Eds), Shifts in the Welfare Mix: Their Impact on Work, Social Services and Welfare Policies (pp. 273–280). European Centre for Social Welfare Training and Research. Svetlik, I. (1988). Yugoslavia: Three Ways of Welfare System Restructuring. In A. Evers and H. Wintersberger (Eds), Shifts in the Welfare Mix: Their Impact on Work, Social Services and Welfare Policies (pp. 331–368). European Centre for Social Welfare Training and Research. Unkovski-Korica, V. (2011). Workers’ Self-management in the ‘Yugoslav Road to Socialism’: Market, Mobilisation and Political Conflict 1948–1962. London School of Economics and Political Science. Doctoral thesis. http://etheses.lse.ac.uk/4001/1/Unkovski-Korica__Workers-self-management.pdf. Whitehorn, A. (1978). Yugoslav Workers’ Self-Management: A Blueprint for Industrial Democracy? Canadian Slavonic Papers/Revue canadienne des slavistes, 20(3), 421–428. www.jstor.org/stable/40867347.

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18 The role of civil society in Montenegro’s European Union accession process Igor Lukšic´ and Aleksandar Andrija Pejovic´

Introduction Montenegro is an upper-middle-income country with a total of 620,029 inhabitants (Monstat, 2021).1 It is a parliamentary representative democratic republic with a multi-party system. The Constitution2 defines Montenegro as a civic and democratic state with social justice established by the sovereign rights of its government. Montenegro regained its independence in 20063 following a national referendum. Since then, the country has implemented a dynamic transformation process which resulted in the country becoming a European Union (EU) candidate country in 2010, a member of the World Trade Organization in 2012 and a member of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) member in 2017. This all-encompassing transformation of the country since independence has been strongly driven by the prospect of membership of the EU, which has been set as the priority developmental goal. To that end, significant efforts have been made to meet a number of political and economic criteria, including instigating public administration reform and transforming government into an open and accountable system. Talks with the EU started in June 2012. Civil society in Montenegro was actively involved in the accession process, and in the different working groups on the negotiation chapters, which was recognized and commended by the European Commission (2021, p. 4). The participation of civil society organizations (CSOs) in the working bodies of the state administration and in the implementation of public debate in the preparation of laws and strategies has provided added value in the level of cooperation between the government and the civil society sector.4 The participation of CSOs in the negotiating process must be viewed in the context of the complexity of the EU accession process on the one hand, and the small size of the country on the other. Direct engagement with the civil sector, rather than merely adopting a consultative stance, made the Montenegrin approach innovative and distinctive compared to that of Serbia, Albania and North Macedonia, which are also EU candidate countries. The objective of this chapter is to analyse the model of the direct engagement of CSOs in the EU accession process, which is the approach adopted by Montenegro. The chapter

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responds to the question as to whether integrating CSOs into the accession process increases the capacity of a small public administration to deal with the complex tasks associated with the EU accession process. The methodology used in this research is based on the personal experience and insights of the present authors, one of whom is a former prime minister of Montenegro and the other a minister of European Affairs in the government of Montenegro, and on the outcomes of previous research carried out on the subject.

Montenegro on the path to the EU Montenegro has been on a steady path towards EU membership and a front-runner for EU accession since regaining its independence in 2006. It became an EU candidate country in 2010 and the negotiation process started in June 2012. Since then, the Montenegrin government has opened 33 negotiating chapters and provisionally closed three.5 Accession to the EU remains the key political objective of the Montenegrin government. Public support for EU integration in Montenegro has been steadily rising since 2015. Most Montenegrin citizens are now in favour of accession to the EU, and the EU is correctly perceived as the biggest donor to the country. Approximately 75 per cent of the population believe that Montenegro should join the EU, according to a public survey carried out in 2021 (EEAS, 2021). Montenegro accepted the EU revised enlargement methodology in May 2020. This methodology envisages ‘building on trust, mutual confidence and clear commitments by the EU’ on the one hand, and a ‘stronger focus on fundamental reforms’, including that of public administration, as one of the priorities by the candidate countries (European Commission, 2020). However, the new methodology also prescribes that no chapter can be provisionally closed before interim benchmarks6 for the key rule of law chapters 23 and 24 are met. This means that Montenegro would need to undertake considerable efforts in the future if it wants to fulfil the rule of law requirements in order to progress to the next phase of the integration process. In a way, even the opening of negotiations in 2012 effectively marked acceptance of this new methodology as particular emphasis was put on the key rule of law chapters. The accession process in Montenegro has already lasted longer than that in other cases of EU enlargement, with the exception of Türkiye (Turkey). The Brdo Declaration (European Council, 2021) expressed no clear prospect of a visible entry although there has been no official change in the policy based on the two-decades-old Thessaloniki Summit conclusions (European Commission, 2003).7 The European Commission already places particular emphasis on economic and investment support, which is clearly beneficial to the candidate countries, but only full-fledged membership would provide a strong and effective framework for the sustainable development of both the political and the economic system.

Civil society in Montenegro An energetic civil society makes a necessary and substantial contribution to the protection of fundamental rights and the introduction of the rule of law for good governance. According to Bernhard (1993, p. 307), a vibrant and resilient civil society is a necessary component of any democratic state, and that is particularly true for the new democratic societies that emerged after the fall of the Berlin Wall. Furthermore, a Europeanized8 civil society is a part of polity development in democratic societies and a necessary complement to the EU internal market (Warleigh, 2001, p. 620). This is also very valid for the post-conflict Western Balkan societies, 263

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where wars had major negative effects on many elements associated with democracy, including trust, tolerance, social capital building, a sense of citizenship, and participation and engagement in social matters (Bojicic-Dzelilovic et al., 2013, p. 12), thereby making civil society’s role ever more important for the proper development of a democratic country. In the Western Balkans, CSOs have played a specific beneficial role as they have been heavily involved in the countries’ transformation drive when they emerged from the conflict of the 1990s. As such, civil society represented a core concept for the functioning of democracy and the democratization process (Spurga, 2007, p. 58). These organizations have worked on peace-making initiatives, transitional justice, state building, strengthening anti-corruption initiatives, freedom of expression and an independent media, and the protection and initiation of human rights. The lockdowns and restrictions introduced to curb the spread of the COVID19 pandemic have not prevented CSOs from continuing their work and expanding their regular activities designed to provide support to citizens coping with new challenges posed by the pandemic (Neshikj and Spasovska, 2020, p. 48). After the country gained its independence in 2006, the process of Europeanizing the civil society in Montenegro began. In this process, CSOs played a substantial role in the democratization of the country and became not only monitors and watchdogs but also active participants in the implementation of public policy reforms (Muk et al., 2006, p. 18). In the case of the country’s accession to the EU, the role of some non-governmental organizations (NGOs) mainly comprised in (a) joining the government working bodies involved in accession talks and (b) participating in coalitions to oversee the negotiations. Currently there are numerous CSOs in Montenegro. According to the Ministry of Public Administration, Digital Society and Media (2022a), a total of 6,390 active NGOs were registered in Montenegro in January 2022 operating in various areas of activity. The largest number of registered organizations are active in the field of the arts and culture, the protection of human and minority rights, institutional and non-institutional education, agriculture and rural development, and social and health care. However, a number of NGOs focus on drug abuse and addiction, corruption and organized crime, providing social care for children and youth, and on the European and Euro-Atlantic integration of Montenegro, for example. While a report found that the ‘majority of Montenegrin CSOs are small, poorly resourced, municipally based organisations, dedicated to addressing issues in the immediate local community’ (Centre for Development of Non-governmental Organizations, 2017, p. 14), several welldeveloped, national-level organizations engage in advocacy, research, monitoring and capacity building in the areas of anti-corruption, public administration, human rights and poverty reduction. The most important CSOs are based in the central region of the country and have their headquarters in the capital, Podgorica. The role of CSOs in Montenegro increased in importance when the country commenced accession negotiations with the EU. In December 2010, the European Council granted Montenegro candidate status and identified seven key priorities that would need to be addressed for accession talks to begin (Council of the European Union, 2010). One of the benchmarks was to improve cooperation between the government and the civil sector/NGOs (European Commission, 2010), and this led to the implementation of measures resulting in the direct engagement of the CSOs in the negotiating process. In 2017, of the 1,300 members involved in the negotiating structure that covered the work on the 33 chapters of the EU acquis,9 one-third were representatives of civil society, including academia, professional organizations and NGOs (Ministry of European Affairs, 2017, p. 10). The 2018 Strategy for Improving the Enabling Environment for NGOs (Ministry of Public Administration, 2018) and its accompanying plan, have also brought about an improved 264

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strategic framework for the mutual cooperation of the state and CSOs. More recently, the framework for dialogue and cooperation between public institutions and civil society has been further enlarged by the Council for Cooperation to include public administration bodies and NGOs; its main role is to improve cooperation between CSOs and the national authorities. However, it still lacks visibility and outreach to CSOs operating at the local level in remote areas (European Commission, 2021, p. 14). Funding for NGOs from the Montenegrin government budget has increased in the past few years. The rules for the public funding of CSOs require that a minimum of 0.5 per cent of the state budget should be allocated to civil society. The transparency of state funding has improved following the establishment of an online database of CSO projects that have received state funds since 2009. As a result of the inclusion of CSOs, the non-governmental sector has steadily grown as a key partner of the government of Montenegro, in the process of creating and implementing public policies, including the promotion of the European integration process, informing citizens about the EU and its pre-accession support, and implementing projects and programmes in various areas of public interest. However, despite these improvements, the European Commission’s 2019 report on Montenegro emphasized the need to step up stakeholders’ participation in the implementation of reforms. In fact, there are still many issues that impede the genuine inclusion of the NGO sector in policymaking, as will be shown below.

Participatory model for civil society in the Montenegro EU accession process According to Nielsen et al. (2009, p. 262), the EU sees engagement with CSOs as a vehicle for its soft power-based approach of milieu-shaping through slow institutionalization. A strong civil society is seen as contributing to the deepening of citizens’ understanding of the reforms that a country needs to implement in order to qualify for EU membership. In addition, this ensures that the EU accession process does not remain a mere government exercise, and, in addition, it can stimulate a balanced public debate (DG Enlargement, 2013). In fact, this is of paramount importance if one wants to make well-informed decisions about EU membership at the end of the pre-accession process. The example of Croatia clearly shows how NGOs can be empowered by the EU to provide their inputs, views and assessments on the platform of conditionality of the integration progress of candidate countries (Wunsch, 2016, p. 14). When the negotiation structure was created in early 2012, the government of Montenegro came to a decision that paved the way for CSOs to become an integral part of that structure (Official Gazette of Montenegro, 2012). Working groups were formed to prepare for the negotiations on Montenegro’s accession to the EU following the 33 negotiation chapters. Representatives from NGOs participated actively in these working groups. This process was complemented by two legal acts relating to the manner and procedure of cooperation between state administration bodies and NGOs, in terms of conducting public hearings and drafting laws (Official Gazette of Montenegro, 2018).10 This allowed the setting up of an institutionalized dialogue between the government and CSOs. Thus, the civil society, including NGOs and universities, trade unions and professional associations, were able to take part in each negotiating group. Civil society involvement in the negotiation process did not consist exclusively in NGO participation. As one might expect, representatives from academia participated in the working groups on science and research (chapter 26), and those on education and culture (chapter 25). However, their representation varied across the spectrum, with economics professors engaged 265

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in the economic and financial chapters, and law professors assisting horizontally with helping public administrators to gain a better understanding of the acquis. Moreover, two out of 10 members of the negotiation groups, which acted as the overseers and coordinators of the overall work on negotiations, were university professors. There was a heavy concentration of professional organizations in the chapters that dealt with the economy, dealing with issues such as the movement of goods, intellectual property and company law. Representative organizations for companies and individuals involved in the production of milk, meat or eggs were naturally interested in following the proceedings of the working groups on food safety, veterinary and phytosanitary control, as well as agriculture and fisheries, and therefore participated in the proceedings relating to public administration in preparing and negotiating the relevant chapters. More importantly, social partners, including trade unions and business associations, were also invited to nominate their representatives for the negotiation working groups. While they have been present in negotiation structures on various economic and financial chapters, their greatest impact has been on the chapters relating to freedom of movement for workers, social policy and employment. The non-NGO social partners were therefore able to access information about the EU acquis relevant to their areas of interest, forming part of the structure not only in terms of negotiations with the EU, but also preparing key framework and strategic documents that are instrumental for the progress of Montenegro in the accession process. The most active and vocal participants in the negotiation structure have, however, been the NGOs. NGOs participating in negotiations concerning chapters 23 and 24 relating to the rule of law were cast in the limelight and were given considerable space to present their work and activity during the process. The NGOs were most active in chapter 23, which deals with judiciary reform, anti-corruption activities and fundamental rights.

The role of CSOs in the negotiation process of different countries In the current candidate countries, CSOs were already in operation before negotiations associated with EU accession began, but their role has gained more significance during the recent stages of EU enlargement. A multitude of approaches have been adopted to facilitate cooperation and coordination between governments and CSOs. Table 18.1 shows how three candidate countries, two of which are small states, handled this matter.11 Serbia started accession talks two years after Montenegro in 2014, but it did not follow the Montenegrin example and opted to continue to utilise the National Convention on the EU (NCEU),12 which does not allow CSOs to become directly involved in the accession talks, as has been the case in Montenegro. This is also true of Albania and North Macedonia. Croatia, a recent candidate country that acceded to the EU in 2013, after completing the accession negotiations two years before Montenegro opened them, allowed representatives from academia and professional organizations to take part in the negotiation structure, but not NGOs. Different countries, therefore, applied different approaches with regard to the participation of CSOs in the negotiating process. Some countries opted to pursue a closed government-led process with CSOs acting as a monitoring mechanism and offering their counsel, while others included specific CSOs operating in areas such as academia or business. The Montenegrin approach, however, is more comprehensive, as it opened up the whole structure for the direct participation of the talents and resources of CSOs. Table 18.2 relates to the participatory schemes in the accession negotiations of five former candidate countries, of which four are small states, and which acceded to the EU in 2004. 266

The role of civil society in Montenegro’s EU accession process Table 18.1 Participatory model of CSOs in candidate countries

Candidate country

Participatory model of CSOs

Serbia

In Serbia there are three separate mechanisms for civil society involvement: (1) sectoral CSOs; (2) prEUgovor, which brings together seven Serbian CSOs with expertise in various policies under chapters 23 and 24 of the EU accession negotiations; and (3) the NCEU. The NCEU is the most important participation mechanism and is adopted in all the chapters of the acquis in the accession talks. It has a special relationship with the state, formalized through an agreement. With more than 300 organizations and 700 members, it offers a platform for consultations between the Serbian government and civil society, makes recommendations about Serbian negotiation positions based on an open and transparent dialogue, monitors the implementation of the negotiation chapters’ conditions and benchmarks, and informs the public about the dynamics of the accession process (NCEU, 2022). However, unlike CSOS in Montenegro, Serbian CSOs cannot become directly and permanently involved in the negotiation structure, thus keeping the main focus of work within public administration and leaving the dialogue to CSO networks and outside financing. In 2019, Albania established a Partnership Platform for European Integration (Prime Minister of Albania, 2019). It is aimed at informing, consulting, communicating and involving civil society, stakeholders, academia and local government in the EU accession negotiation process. It assists with the drafting of negotiating positions, programming and monitoring of EU assistance, and the drafting of the National Plan for European Integration and other EU plans. It has two levels of representation: (1) the Steering Board, which runs the Partnership Platform for European Integration; and (2) 33 discussion and consultation roundtables established to deal with the relevant chapters of the EU acquis. Albania has also its own NCEU based on the Slovak model. It focuses on the operation and sustainability of the platform for an institutionalized public debate on European integration issues through four working groups (SPFA, 2022). The Albanian approach does not allow CSOs to become directly and permanently involved in the negotiation structure as indeed they are in Montenegro, but it does offer a special platform for dialogue. The main body that brings together representatives from the chambers of commerce, labour unions and faith-based organizations is the National European Integration Council (NEIC) (Assembly of the Republic of North Macedonia, 2007). The NEIC is a consultative body and its decisions are non-binding, but it can give opinions on the negotiating positions defined by the government. However, the NEIC recognizes only one CSO representative as part of its current composition. The NCEU, according to its format, is a democratic forum for open and transparent dialogue on issues related based on the Slovak and regional experience (NKEUMK, 2022). The government also informs CSOs about debates, discussions and consultations, as well as the technical screening process. Parliament invites CSOs operating in areas of importance to the EU integration process to participate in committee hearings and plenary sessions, while the Delegation of the EU to Montenegro consults NGOs when preparing its main accession documents (Open Society Foundations, 2021, p. 24). Therefore, similarly to Montenegro, it is possible for CSOs in North Macedonia to become directly involved in the negotiation structure. It remains to be seen how the situation will evolve given the increased involvement of NGOs once accession talks begin.

Albania

North Macedonia

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Igor Lukšic´ and Aleksandar Andrija Pejovic´ Table 18.2 Participatory model of CSOs in former candidate countries

EU member state

Participatory model of CSOs

Slovakia

Slovakia’s response in 2001 to a wider and deeper debate on the future of the Union during the last year of its accession to the EU was the creation of the National Convention that should provide a suitable forum for Slovak citizens interested in discussing the challenging questions regarding Slovakia’s future in the EU. It was made up of representatives from the main political parties, academic circles, churches, interest groups, trade unions, municipalities and regions as well as NGOs (Europese Conventie, 2002, p. 2) It provided a framework for discussion and meetings on key issues pertaining to the integration of the country into Europe. Malta has a long tradition of consultation with CSOs. The government welcomes the input of citizens on the implementation of projects, the enactment of laws and the formulation of new policies (Chabanet and Trechsel, 2011, p. 137). The Malta-EU Steering and Action Committee enabled members of the civil society take part in formulating national positions and to join consultations as negotiations progressed. The influence of the EU has affected the NGO sector indirectly as a whole, particularly through Malta’s participation in the EU Structural Funds that are designed to support economic development and reduce inequality between and within countries, and the active involvement of Maltese NGOs in the implementation of the National Action Plan against Poverty and Social Exclusion as a result of EU’s emphasis on promoting social dialogue (GHK, 2008, p. 24). Over the past few years, the EU has undoubtedly proved to be the single most important driving force behind Cyprus’s sociopolitical, economic and institutional modernization. Undoubtedly, the proliferation of CSOs over the past 15–20 years can be attributed to EU accession negotiations that began in the early 1990s. Civil society in Cyprus can be described as weak in terms of structure and moderate in terms of impact. There is a wide sentiment of distrust towards these types of CSOs in Cyprus, which reflects the traditionally overwhelming influence of political parties, and the minimal coverage received in the local media (Vasilara and Piaton, 2007, p. 108). The EU has been seen as a catalyst for change and modernization, but also as a motivating and unifying force towards a more peaceful coexistence among the different communities inhabiting the island. The country’s accession to the EU in 2004 enabled the CSOs to participate in a number of EU projects and in European networks, and a number of advocacy organizations were established. Peacebuilding and bi-communal organizations were mobilized for peace and reconciliation. This led to the emergence of two different trends in civil society: the development of ‘traditional’ social welfare organizations, and the relatively ‘new’ trend for lobbying and advocacy (CIVICUS, 2011, p. 27). Estonia has a history of frequent consultations with CSOs with both the government and NGOs showing commitment to common causes. In general, the CSOs continue to grow stronger and more active, and both local and national governments recognize the benefits of cooperating with NGOs and have a better understanding of their role in the democratic process (Stewart, 2006, p. 25). This held particularly true during Estonia’s accession to the EU when ad hoc consultations were organized. The Joint Consultative Committee was established in 2002. Its scope of work was to assist the accession process, but also to prepare NGOs to enter the EU. The Union has also had an impact on CSO development through its advocacy of particular types of funding and grant monies. In turn, the aim of Estonian civil society has been to create channels of participation from the inside, and not to influence the existing channels of participation from the outside as the country started from a complete lack of democratic institutions (Lagerspetz et al., 2004, p. 44).

Malta

Cyprus

Estonia

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EU member state

Participatory model of CSOs

Slovenia

In Slovenia, the creation of CSOs started in late 1980s and accelerated throughout the democratic reforms of the 1990s. The government of Slovenia initiated consultations with CSOs in 2002 with the aim of establishing institutional relations and legal and financial frameworks for the NGO sector. This led to the establishment of a commission that brought together representatives from the government and civil groups and an agreement was reached between them (the model was later replicated in Montenegro). Today, the Slovenian CSOs are relevant and influential actors in EU policymaking through contacts with national officials and via membership of EU-level umbrella CSOs (Novak and Lajh, 2018, p. 107).

The advantages of CSO participation in the negotiation process In Montenegro, the decision to open up government structures to NGOs gave the country the opportunity to utilize the available capacities and expertise of these organizations in attaining the common goal of joining the EU. This method also promoted transparency on the part of the government which showed itself willing to work closely with non-governmental actors. Although such direct cooperation was met with scepticism in some quarters, including a number of NGOs, it was accepted by most of the NGOs, and this was highly appreciated by the European Commission (2012, p. 49). The NGOs, for their part, have been able to use the knowledge and various sources of information about all the chapters of the EU acquis, which they would not have been able to do had they stayed out of the negotiating structure. Although there has been criticism by some NGOs about the need to sign confidentiality agreements and that the rules of procedure of working groups prevent them from criticizing the work of these negotiating bodies, there was a ‘gentleman’s agreement’ that NGOs could comment publicly on their own work and views within the working groups. In addition, all the views that they express during the meetings of the working groups would be noted in the minutes. This form of collaboration allowed the NGOs taking part in the working bodies to monitor the implementation of reforms, which in turn allowed them to involve themselves more deeply in the process. The most important results achieved by civil society representatives were in the field of the rule of law, which has improved markedly in many aspects, including transparency. This arrangement also provided an opportunity for other actors to comment on the measures and content of chapter 23, by, for example, NGO pressure on the authorities to organize public consultations (Marovic´ et al., 2019, p. 16). Parallel to the inclusion of NGOs in the accession talks structures, a coalition of NGOs was formed in 2012. It comprised 16 organizations that were not part of the official negotiating group on chapter 23 (Institut Alternativa, 2012). The objective of this coalition was to monitor the course of negotiations relating to chapter 23, with the aim of increasing transparency. A major advantage of this inclusiveness strengthened the integration process by cultivating a sense of ownership among the NGOs and other CSO members involved in the process. The National Convention on the European Integration of Montenegro (NCEI, 2015)13 presented additional opportunities to promote cooperation between the civil and state sectors. The project was implemented by the European Movement in Montenegro with the financial support of the EU and Slovak Aid. It functioned through seven groups working in areas such as the judiciary and fundamental rights, justice, freedom and security, agriculture, food safety,

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veterinary and phytosanitary, fisheries, environmental protection, competition and consumer and health protection. However, there are a number of possible weaknesses in schemes involving direct statutory CSO participation. One downside is that the distinction between the government and CSO activity becomes blurred. Another problem is that the NGOs and other CSOs may not continue to be perceived as autonomous and independent of the government. Moreover, if there is a political confrontation between the government and the NGOs it could endanger the whole integration process. There is also the possibility that the NGOs may be motivated to prolong the negotiations in order to reap some benefits for themselves, including funding. It is the view of the authors of this chapter that the benefits of inclusiveness far outweigh the potential downsides. The risk of the threats materializing can be mitigated by developing trust during the integration process, and this can be fostered as a result of transparency. The Montenegro model had been functioning for 10 years at the time of writing and in practical terms it has had good results in terms of opening up negotiations on all the chapters, mostly due to the above-mentioned benefits of inclusiveness, transparency, increased visibility of the process, and feeling of quality contribution and ownership by the non-government actors. This approach has also helped to speed up the pace of the negotiations.

Conclusion The experience of the accession process in Montenegro has led to improvements in governance and has helped to ameliorate the quality of communication between state bodies, civil society, the business community and ordinary citizens, strengthened the institutional framework, and promoted the adoption of good practices and procedures in public service. The Montenegrin approach, the benefits thereof which are outlined in this chapter, focuses on the full inclusion of the whole of civil society, including NGOs, academia and business associations, in the negotiation structure. It can, therefore, possibly serve as a model for other current candidate countries in their accession negotiations. The CSOs clearly have a very relevant role to play in the negotiation process, and it is up to the wisdom of political leaders to provide the scope for the effective participation of non-government actors, possibly learning from the experience of Montenegro. This approach can also be adopted by the European Commission to assess whether it can be implemented throughout the ongoing and future accession process by candidate countries, especially small states, during which the pooling of know-how and expertise is often necessary.

Notes 1 Montenegro is considered a small state by the International Monetary Fund (https://ieo.imf.org/ ~/media/7AC76DCE2C6F4AF1A5BAFFEA3DB51936.ashx) and the World Bank (www.worldbank. org/en/country/smallstates/overview#1), which define a small state as having a population of up to 1.5 million. 2 Ratified and adopted by the Constitutional Parliament of Montenegro on 19 October 2007 and officially proclaimed as the Constitution of Montenegro on 22 October 2007. 3 The country was an internationally recognized state from 1878 to 1918. From 1918 onwards, Montenegro was part of various unions and federations of Yugoslavia. In an independence referendum held on 21 May 2006, the vote on independence was approved by 55.5 per cent of voters, narrowly passing the 55 per cent threshold. 4 The change of government following elections held in August 2020 achieved a new political dynamic. Following months-long rallies led by the Serbian Orthodox Church in Montenegro, 270

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5 6 7

8 9 10 11 12

13

combined with the impact of the COVID-19 pandemic and the perception of top-down corruption led to the emergence of a new governing coalition consisting of heterogeneous political factions, with many prominent figures in CSOs being appointed to positions in the new government. In total there are 35 chapters of EU law that need to be negotiated, two of which are normally very technical ones. The negotiation process embraces 33 chapters. A set of 83 strict criteria need to be met in this regard. The European Council at the Thessaloniki summit gave ‘unequivocal support for the European perspective’, while stressing that ‘the speed of progress depends on the countries of the region’. The importance of the Thessaloniki Summit’s conclusions is reflected in the fact that the EU formally opened the door to the Western Balkans for the first time. The concept of Europeanization and the role of CSOs is discussed in various publications, including Börzel and Risse (2000), Pridham (2005), Featherstone and Radaelli (2003), Grabbe (2006), Vachudova (2005), Maloney and Van Deth (2008) and Fishman (2017). The acquis communautaire, often called the EU acquis, refers to the accumulated legislation, legal acts and court decisions that comprise the body of EU law. These decrees were replaced in 2018 by a single decree on the election of representatives of NGOs to the working bodies of state administration bodies and the conduct of public hearings in the preparation of laws and strategies (Official Gazette of Montenegro, 2018), The Republic of North Macedonia and the Republic of Albania opened their accession talks in July 2022. The NCEU is based on the Slovak model which has been in operation since 2001. Adapted to the circumstances of integration of the Western Balkan candidate countries for EU membership, the NCEU has gathered civil society and government representatives in order to follow the commitments of a candidate country on the Stabilisation and Association Agreement and accession talks. The European Movement in Montenegro is an NGO which deals with projects and activities in the field of European integration in Montenegro. It has the following objectives; improving understanding and cooperation between people, communities and countries; encouraging comprehensive and free communication in the fields of culture, information and economics; disseminating ideas about European integration in Montenegro; influencing the public of Montenegro to direct its engagement towards democratic action, achieving the equality of people and their communities; as well as respecting and improving the standards adopted by EU member countries.

References Assembly of the Republic of North Macedonia (2007). Decision on the Establishment of the National Council for European Integration. Official Gazette of the Republic of Macedonia 140/LXIII. Bernhard, M. (1993). Civil Society and Democratic Transition in East Central Europe. Political Science Quarterly, 108(2). Bojicic-Dzelilovic, V., Ker-Lindsay, J., and Kostovicova, D. (Eds) (2013). Civil Society and Transitions in the Western Balkans. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Börzel, T., and Risse, T. (2000). When Europe Hits Home: Europeanization and Domestic Change. European Integration Online Papers, 4(15). Centre for Development of Non-governmental Organizations (2017). Montenegro: Country Paper. Podgorica: Centre for Development of Non-governmental Organizations. Chabanet, D., and Trechsel, A. H. (2011). EU Member States’ Consultation with Civil Society on European Policy Matters. Florence: European University Institute. CIVICUS (2011). Civil Society Index Report for Cyprus. An Assessment of Civil Society in Cyprus: A Map for the Future. Nicosia: CIVICUS. Council of the European Union (2010). Council Conclusions on Enlargement/Stabilisation and Association Process. 3060th General Affairs Council Meeting, Brussels, 14 December. www.consilium.europa.eu/ uedocs/cms_data/docs/pressdata/EN/genaff/118487.pdf. DG Enlargement (2013) Guidelines for EU Support to Civil Society in Enlargement Countries 2014-2020. http s://neighbourhood-enlargement.ec.europa.eu/system/files/2018-12/doc_guidelines_cs_support.pdf. EEAS (2021) Support to Montenegro’s EU Membership Greatly Increased. https://eeas.europa.eu/headquarters/ headquarters-homepage/91477/support-montenegros-eu-membership-greatly-increased_en. European Commission (2003). Thessaloniki Summit: A Milestone in the European Union’s Relations with the Western Balkans. https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/IP_03_860. 271

Igor Lukšic´ and Aleksandar Andrija Pejovic´ European Commission (2010). Communication from the Commission to the European Parliament and the Council: Commission Opinion on Montenegro’s Application for Membership of the European Union. https:// eur-lex.europa.eu/LexUriServ/LexUriServ.do?uri=SEC:2010:1334:FIN:EN:PDF. European Commission (2012). Montenegro 2012 Report, Accompanying the Communication from the Commission to the European Parliament, the Council, the European Economic and Social Committee and the Committee of the Regions 2012 Communication on EU Enlargement Policy. European Commission (2019). Montenegro Report. https://ec.europa.eu/neighbourhood-enlargement/ sites/near/files/20190529-montenegro-report.pdf. European Commission (2020). Commission Presents First Reflections on Building a Strong Social Europe for Just Transitions. https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/IP_20_18. European Commission (2021). Montenegro 2021 Report, Accompanying the Communication from the Commission to the European Parliament, the Council, the European Economic and Social Committee and the Committee of the Regions 2021 Communication on EU Enlargement Policy. https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/ EN/TXT/?uri=CELEX%3A52021SC0293%2801%29&qid=1644234623160. European Council (2021). Brdo Declaration. www.consilium.europa.eu/en/press/press-releases/2021/10/ 06/brdo-declaration-6-october-2021/. Europese Conventie (2002). Nationaal debat over de toekomst van Europa: Slowakije (National Debate on the Future of Europe from 2002: Slovakia), CONV 109/02. Featherstone, K., and Radaelli, C. (Eds) (2003) The Politics of Europeanization. New York: Oxford University Press. Fishman, R. M. (2017). How Civil Society Matters in Democratization: Setting the Boundaries of PostTransition Political Inclusion. Comparative Politics, 49(3). Open Society Foundations (2021). Macedonia: Guide on Institutional Mechanisms for Civil Society Participation in Policy-making Related to EU Integrations. https://dijalogkoneu.mk/en/wp-content/uploads/sites/3/ 2021/10/Guide-on-Institutional-Mechanisms-for-Civil-Society-Participation-in-Policy-Making-Relat ed-to-EU-Integrations.pdf. GHK (2008). Study of Volunteering in the European Union: Country Report Malta. https://ec.europa.eu/citi zenship/pdf/doc1018_en.pdf. Grabbe, H. (2006). The EU’s Transformative Power: Europeanization through Conditionality in Central and Eastern Europe. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Institut Alternativa (2012). NGOs Will Monitor the Implementation of Reforms in the Areas Relating to the Negotiation of Chapter 23. https://institut-alternativa.org/nevladine-organizacije-ce-pratiti-sprovodjen je-reformi-u-oblastima-koje-cine-pregovaracko-poglavlje-23/. Lagerspetz, M., Aire, T., Rein, R., and Erle, R. (Eds) (2004). Non-Profit Sector and the Consolidation of Democracy: Studies on the Development of Civil Society in Estonia. Tallinn: Avatud Eesti Fond. Maloney, W. A., and Van Deth, J. W. (2008). Civil Society and Governance in Europe: From National to International Linkages. Bodmin:MPG Books. Marovic´, J., Stefanovski, I., and Ivanovik, I. (2019). Comparative Study of Civil Society of the Western Balkans: Monitoring Accession Negotiations and EU Integration from Initial Initiatives to Built Dialogue. Podgorica: Balkan Trust for Democracy. Ministry of European Affairs of Montenegro (2017). Negotiating Team. www.eu.me/en/biblioteka/# 1838-1841-brochures-and-publications-1608626604. Ministry of Public Administration (2018). Strategija unapređenja podsticajnog okruženja za djelovanje nevladinih organizacija 2018–2020. Podgorica: Government of Montenegro. www.gov.me/dokumenta/ c1f02df7-5ad0-4975-ade0-4cc97a90d9d0. Ministry of Public Administration, Digital Society and Media (2022a). Register of Active NGOs (in Serbian). www.gov.me/dokumenta/313be898-f395-4156-8528-5b900b382909. Ministry of Public Administration, Digital Society and Media (2022b). Report on the Implementation of Public Tenders and Approved Projects in Accordance with the Law on Non-Governmental Organizations in 2020. Podgorica: Ministry of Public Administration, Digital Society and Media. Monstat (2021) Montenegro in Figures. www.monstat.org/uploads/files/publikacije/Monstat%20-%20CG% 20u%20Brojkama%20MNE_WEB.pdf. Muk, S., Uljarevic´, D., and Brajovic´, S. (2006). Weak Tradition, Uncertain Future: Civic Society Index Report for Montenegro. Podgorica: CRNVO. National Convention on the European Integration of Montenegro (2015). NCEI 2013–2014, Podgorica. https://www.emim.org/index.php/en/publications-and-analysis/208-report-on-the-project-implemen tation-for-the-period-march-2015-march-2015-activities-recommendations-expert-articles.

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National Convention on the European Union in Serbia (NCEU) (2022). https://eukonvent.org/o-nama/ o-konventu/. Neshikj, I., and Spasovska, B. (2020). Filling Democracy’s Gaps in the Western Balkans. In Richard Youngs (Ed.), Global Civil Society in the Shadow of Coronavirus. Washington, DC: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace. Nielsen, K. L., Berg, E., and Roll, G. (2009). Undiscovered Avenues? Estonian CSOs as Agents of Europeanisation. Trames: Journal of the Humanities and Social Sciences. NKEU-MK (2022). The National Convention on the European Union in the Republic of North Macedonia. http://nkeu.mk/. Novak, M., and Lajh, D. (2018). The Participation of Slovenian CSOs in EU Policymaking: Explaining their Different Routes. Journal of Contemporary European Research, 14(2). Official Gazette of Montenegro (2012). Decision on the Establishment of a Structure for Negotiations on the Accession of Montenegro to the European Union. No. 9/12. Official Gazette of Montenegro (2018). Decree on the Election of Representatives of Non-governmental Organisations to the Working Bodies of State Administration Bodies and the Conduct of Public Hearings in the Preparation of Laws and Strategies. No. 041/18. Pridham, G. (2005). Designing Democracy: EU Enlargement and Regime Change in Post-Communist Europe. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Prime Minister of Albania (2019). Prime Minister Order nr.113, dated 30.08.2019 on Forms of Participation to, Functioning and Institutional Structure of the Partnership Platform for European Integration. http://integrim i-ne-be.punetejashtme.gov.al/en/anetaresimi-ne-be/ligje-dhe-institucione/. Slovak Foreign Policy Association (SPFA) (2022). National Convention on the EU in Albania. www.sfpa.sk/ en/project/national-convention-on-the-eu-in-albania/. Spurga, S. (2007). Europeanization of Civil Society in the Baltic States: Promotion or Constraint of Democratization? Viešoji politika IR administravimas, 22. Stewart, S. (2006). EU Support for Civil Society in the Baltic States. Papers Promoting Democratic Values in the Enlarging Europe: The Changing Role of the Baltic States from Importers to Exporters. Tartu: EuroCollege, University of Tartu. Vachudova, M. A. (2005). Europe Undivided: Democracy, Leverage, and Integration after Communism. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Vasilara, M., and Piaton, G. (2007). The Role of Civil Society in Cyprus. The Cyprus Review, 19(2). Warleigh, A. (2001). ‘Europeanizing’ Civil Society: NGOs as Agents of Political Socialization. Journal of Common Market Studies, 39(4). Wunsch, N. (2016). Coming Full Circle? Differential Empowerment in Croatia’s EU Accession Process. Journal of European Public Policy, 23.

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19 The democratic potential of politically and socially oriented CSOs The case of North Macedonia Milka Ivanovska Hadjievska

Introduction Countries in the Western Balkans have experienced a process of gradual maturation of the interest group system with the growth of new civil society organizations (CSOs) and their umbrella associations across policy areas (Fink-Hafner and Thomas, 2019; Wunsch, 2015; TACSO, 2016). This is largely related to the European Union (EU) accession process which made it easier for CSOs to influence national-level decision-making (Cekik, 2021; Fagan and ˇ 2021) and strengthened the organizational capacities of CSOs through Wunsch, 2019; Vidacak, extensive funding and capacity building support (e.g. training, mentorship) (Ostojic and Fagan, 2014; Wunsch, 2018). Beyond their narrow ‘watchdog’ function, CSOs in the Western Balkans engage in various activities relating to capacity building, interest representation and service provision (Fink-Hafner and Thomas, 2019). Even though the strength of the organizational capacity of Western Balkan CSOs is lower and qualitatively different from that of CSOs in advanced democracies, it is far from weak. In fact, the double weakness thesis of post-communist civil societies (Howard, 2003) – i.e. weak organizations and the weak capacity of institutions – has been largely put under question by the recent ‘boom’ in comparative studies of civil society in the post-communist world (see Rozbicka et al., 2021; Dobbins and Riedel, 2021; Novak and Komar, 2020; Cekik, 2021). The few studies of CSOs in the Western Balkans have dealt mostly with their strategies and institutional access (e.g. Hristova and Cekik, 2015; Cekik, 2021), while research on CSOs’ capacity to involve citizens and act as transmission belts between the citizens and the state is lacking (but see Novak and Komar, 2020). The purpose of this chapter is to investigate (a) the extent to which North Macedonian CSOs involve members in organizational activities (membership involvement) and internal decision-making processes (membership influence), and (b) the engagement of these CSOs in different types of political activities, which serve as a link between the citizens and the

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government. The CSOs covered in this chapter exclude trade unions, business associations and other groups representing narrow sectional interests. The chapter compares politically oriented CSOs with socially oriented ones in North Macedonia, to test whether these two different types of CSOs are associated with different types of democratic effects. Socially oriented CSOs engage in the provision of social services, as well as charitable and recreational activities that are linked to developmental effects on individuals, as such CSOs are being better at allowing members (citizens) to develop important political and social skills (Uhlin, 2009; Dekker, 2014). Specifically, socially oriented CSOs are expected to generate individual (developmental) democratic effects by enabling citizens to develop a sense of efficacy, capacity for critical judgement and civic virtues (Warren, 2001, p. 71). Politically oriented CSOs (also known as citizen or public interest groups1), whose core mission is advocacy and lobbying on policy issues (e.g. human rights, democracy, gender rights) have been, on the other hand, linked to institutional effects on democracy. That is, such CSOs aggregate and represent interests before the state, hold the state accountable, mobilize resistance and organize alternative governance venues (Warren, 2001, p. 61). In what follows, the chapter presents the context of Macedonian civil society and the conceptual and theoretical framework underpinning the study. The methodology section and the results of the analysis are presented next. The chapter concludes with a discussion of the findings, deriving some implications and suggesting avenues for future research.

The CSO situation in North Macedonia North Macedonia is a small country with about 1.8 million inhabitants, according to the most recent census conducted in 2021.2 The country became a candidate for EU accession in 2005, and support for the development of a vibrant civil society has been one of the key priorities of EU integration. Hence, North Macedonia is a case in which the EU is the most influential actor shaping the civil society environment (Meyer et al., 2020). More than three decades after independence from socialist Yugoslavia, civil society in North Macedonia is grappling with organizational and financial sustainability, and distrust on the part of the broader public (Ordanoski, 2017). While the legal framework in which CSOs operate has been in line with international standards, over the past few decades governments have launched smear campaigns against CSOs undermining public trust in these organizations (Gjuzelov and Ivanovska Hadjievska, 2019). Moreover, in practice there are persistent barriers to the transparent and inclusive participation of CSOs in processes of policy formulation and implementation at the national and local level. Moreover, the ability of CSOs to connect citizens with the state is affected by the organizational capacity of groups, that is, the (often) limited financial and human resources. Civil society in North Macedonia is divided between the majority of small community CSOs with low organizational capacity, operating outside of the capital and a smaller group of national, professionalized CSOs based in the capital with highly developed organizational capacities (Ivanovska Hadjievska, 2020, p. 13). Similarly to other countries in the Western Balkans, CSOs in North Macedonia are relatively young (founded in the 1990s), highly dependent on foreign funding and have weak ‘voluntary roots’, namely a small membership and volunteer base (Kacarska and Atanasova, 2009; Cekik and Hristova, 2019). The majority of CSOs in the country are registered as associations, a legal form suitable for non-profit membership organizations. In 2018, there were about 4,810 active CSOs3 (Bosilkova-Antovska et al., 2021, p. 31), of which 2,755 CSOs reported financial activity in their annual accounts.4 There are 69 CSO networks, that is associations of CSOs working on similar 275

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issues, and their growth is related to increased foreign funding for the formation and capacity building of CSOs’ networks (Ostojic and Fagan, 2014; TACSO, 2016). The governing arrangement of CSOs often includes a dual structure comprising an annual general meeting of members and a governing board carrying out non-executive functions (e.g. strategic planning, financial oversight and others). In practice, there is often a blurred division between executive and governance functions in many CSOs, particularly those with budgets below €100,000 (Ivanovska Hadjievska, 2020). This means that in the case of these CSOs the same people are often engaged in governance and executive functions, which may undermine CSOs’ intraorganizational accountability. Some 1,645 people were employed by CSOs in 2018 (Bosilkova-Antovska et al., 2021, p. 31). Hence, even though the number of active CSOs is considerable for a small country, the proportion of CSOs having the necessary financial and human resources to support their activities is small. Most financial inflows for CSOs come from project funding by foreign donors, while state funding represents a small portion of the annual budgets of these organizations (Ognenovska, 2020; Ostojic and Fagan, 2014). Philanthropy from individual or corporate donors is negligible and remains undeveloped (Ordanoski, 2017). Foreign donors mainly provide financial support in the following areas: EU integration; democracy promotion; public administration and good governance reforms; human rights; and media freedoms (Ostojic and Fagan, 2014). This means that politically oriented CSOs can benefit more than socially oriented CSOs from the available funding. However, some donors such as the Swiss Agency for Development and Cooperation through their programme Civica Mobilitas have targeted specifically socially oriented (grassroots) CSOs with the aim of strengthening CSO-constituency relations.5 The dependence on foreign funding tends to generate some distrust in CSOs and a sense of detachment between them and the citizens, which in turn is manifested in modest membership numbers, as well as low rates of formal volunteering and donations. A recent report shows that the majority of surveyed citizens view CSOs as serving foreign countries’ interests and the foundations that fund them, and perceive CSOs as not being sufficiently independent from political parties (Cekov, 2018, p. 10). This might be related to the fact that foreign-funded CSOs invest more in accountability towards donors, on whom they depend for their survival, than towards the general public (Ivanovska Hadjievska, 2020). In terms of policy access, since 2017, the North Macedonian government has been more open to CSOs’ inputs, and there has been a significant uptick in CSOs’ involvement in policymaking through electronic consultations, working groups and other consultative meetings (Ognenovska, 2020; Bosilkova-Antovska et al., 2021). While CSOs are particularly active in accessing the executive level of government (Cekik, 2021), these organizations struggle to access timely information on meetings and are often bypassed in decision-making processes on politically contested issues, such as anti-corruption (Ognenovska, 2020). Importantly, the legal environment for exercising the freedom of expression and freedom of assembly has improved and the majority of CSOs can freely exercise these civic liberties, which is crucial to their ability to link citizens with the state through outsider political strategies (e.g. protests and public campaigns).

Conceptual and theoretical framework Individual and institutional democratic benefits of CSOs Organized groups in civil society6 have long been considered as a key agent of democratization and development, as they facilitate citizen participation and connect citizens with the state (Banks et al., 2015; Diamond, 1994; Uhlin, 2009). To achieve this, CSOs themselves need to 276

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possess democratic credentials, that is, the ability to connect with and involve constituencies and articulate constituencies’ interests in the policymaking process (Uhlin, 2009; Albareda, 2018). CSOs have been associated with helping participating individuals to cultivate important social and political skills, thereby generating developmental individual effects (Warren, 2001; Dekker, 2014; Freise and Hallmann, 2014). In order to be able to foster democracy, CSOs involve their members and constituencies in their internal activities and decisions. Bolleyer and Correa Vila (2020) distinguished between two types of members’ activism within organizations: membership involvement and membership influence. Membership involvement encompasses the forms of membership participation in organizational activities such as fundraising, logistics, political activities (i.e. signing petitions, attending protest activities, contacting members of parliament) and other activities which are key for ensuring organizational maintenance. Membership influence encompasses members’ participation in decision-making through voting and resolution in key areas such as annual budget allocation, the election of executive board members, changes in statutes and programmatic activities (Stavenes and Ivanovska Hadjievska, 2021). This is an important aspect of intra-organizational democracy which ‘allows members to hold organizational leaders to account’ (Bolleyer and Correa Vila, 2020, p. 2; Binderkrantz, 2009). Importantly, both kinds of members’ activism require organizational resources, as members have to be managed, meetings need to be organized and some resources diverted from other activities. The institutional effects of CSOs on democracy are related to their ability to articulate citizens’ interests in political institutions or the public sphere, and thereby to influence the policymaking agenda (Uhlin, 2009; Warren, 2001). Organizations can engage in outside (public advocacy) lobbying, which involves activities of mobilizing support though the media and addressing the wider public. Such activities aim to exert indirect pressure on policymakers’ decisions (De Bruycker and Beyers, 2019). An inside strategy of influence (lobbying) involves advocacy activities directed towards policymakers (Weiler and Brändli, 2015; De Bruycker and Beyers, 2019). Such activities are less publicly visible and rely on information exchange between CSOs and officials (De Bruycker and Beyers, 2019). Public interest groups are more likely to be associated with outside lobbying than inside lobbying (Dür and Mateo, 2016; Binderkrantz, 2008).

Politically vs socially oriented CSOs The literature on politically oriented CSOs has raised the concern that such groups may trade representation, namely membership influence, for their ability to effectively influence political decision-making (Jordan and Maloney, 2007; Binderkrantz, 2009; Albareda, 2020; Stavenes and Ivanovska Hadjievska, 2021). Hence, in order to signal legitimacy, these groups tend to rely on a solidarity style of advocacy, that is the display of support by the public is considered sufficient, and do not require members’ inclusion in internal decision-making, as this could divert important organizational resources away from the primary purpose – political influence (Halpin, 2006). The same logic would apply to members’ involvement in the organizational activities of politically oriented CSOs. On the other hand, socially oriented CSOs, though not entirely apolitical, allow members to exercise more voice and develop important social skills through participation in organizational activities (Uhlin, 2009). Socially oriented groups are normally founded to serve concrete citizens’ needs and often operate more closely to them at the local and regional level. To successfully perform their activities, they must earn the trust of the communities they operate in. Hence, they invest their effort and scarce resources to enable both membership influence and involvement. 277

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The literature would seem to suggest that politically oriented groups tend to prioritize political activities (including outside and inside lobbying) over membership influence and involvement, while socially oriented CSOs are likely to prioritize members’ activism (Uhlin, 2009; Rozbicka et al., 2021). It should be kept in mind that in the context of post-communist countries, groups working on political issues often enjoy relatively low trust by citizens while at the same time having to invest considerable effort and resources to gain access to decisionmaking venues. Based on the interest group and civil society literature, and the specific conditions for CSOs in a small state like North Macedonia (e.g. the funding priorities of donors), politically oriented groups are more likely to contribute to institutional democracy, while socially oriented CSOs are more likely to contribute to the development of citizens’ democratic skills and virtues.

Methodology This section explains the approach adopted to attain this chapter’s objective of comparing politically oriented with socially oriented CSOs in North Macedonia in terms of their democratic effects. For this purpose, the study draws on primary data on CSOs’ operations through a survey with a number of representatives of CSOs as respondents. The survey was conducted in 2019 and the questionnaire was sent in Macedonian via the LimeSurvey tool. The questionnaire consisted of 34 questions in total, but the responses referred to in this chapter are based on 12 substantive questions on organizational characteristics and concepts of interest for this study. The list of CSO respondents was sourced from the public register of non-profit entities. The online survey was sent to 2,426 CSOs, and 234 organizations agreed to take part. Of these 119 identified themselves as politically oriented CSOs and the remaining 115 as socially oriented CSOs. The number of respondents for the survey was considerably higher compared to that of similar surveys administered in North Macedonia (e.g. Ognenovska and Trajkovska, 2017). To distinguish empirically between politically oriented and socially oriented groups, the respondent CSOs were asked to state their primary mission so as to allow them to self-identify their core objective. Another question captured membership influence, by enquiring about the way in which the respondents involve members of their organizations in decision-making processes. Respondents were allowed to choose from a number of options relating to the issue area and method of organizational decision-making (see Figure 19.3 and Figure 19.4). Information about membership involvement was sought through the following question: ‘Is the contribution by members of your organization important in carrying out the following activities?’ A list of six organizational activities (see Figure 19.5), derived from concepts in the literature, was given to the respondents who were asked to rate their importance on a five-point Likert scale ranging from 1 (not important at all) to 5 (very important). Another question dealt with the different kinds of political activities that CSOs engage in, capturing both inside and outside lobbying strategies. Again, the respondents were provided with a number of possible responses derived from the literature (see Figure 19.6).

Findings: the democratic potential of politically and socially oriented CSOs Membership and staff According to the survey responses, the average membership size of each organization was 263 persons, but most CSOs had a modest membership of less than 100 members. Specifically, only 278

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17 per cent of the CSOs had 101–500 members, confirming the previous comment that the membership base of CSOs in North Macedonia is limited. The majority of these organizations had a staff of between one and five employees, although a large proportion of the respondent CSOs (44 per cent) did not have any paid full-time staff. In addition, the majority of CSOs were founded in the 2000s, after North Macedonia had gained its independence in 1991. Thus, the average age of the CSOs in the sample is just over 17.3 years.

Sources of funding The main source of CSO funding came from foreign donations and more than half of all the CSOs were dependent on such funding. Politically oriented CSOs had a better human resource availability (paid staff and volunteer base) and a bigger budget (the majority had an annual budget of between €20,001 and €500,000), compared to those enjoyed by socially oriented CSOs (see Figure 19.1).

Geographical area of operation With regard to the geographical areas in which the respondent CSOs operated, it emerged that politically oriented CSOs mostly function at the national level, while socially oriented CSOs mostly operated at the regional and local level (see Figure 19.2). Table 19.1 Core organizational resources and age of each type of CSO (averages)

Full-time staff Volunteers Membership Age of the organization

Politically oriented CSOs

Socially oriented CSOs

Total sample

4.1 37.7 376.6 17.5

2.6 22.2 159.5 16.9

3.4 30.0 263.2 17.3

Figure 19.1 Respondent CSOs (%) classified by annual budget size

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Figure 19.2 Distribution of different types of CSOs per primary area of geographical operation (%)

Members’ influence The findings, against expectations, show that members of politically oriented CSOs are to a greater extent than those of socially oriented CSOs involved in making final (authoritative) decisions through voting or consensus in key decision-making areas including changes of statute, change of governing structure and election of members of the governing body. In both types of CSOs, members do not have the final say when it comes to the preparation of annual programmes and budgets, as the governing body (the board) and the staff are responsible for these areas. A slightly larger share of socially oriented CSOs involve their members in decisionmaking relating to the annual programme and budget of the organization (see Figure 19.3). Regarding the ways in which members participate in decision-making, all politically oriented CSOs allow their members to influence the organization in some way or another, with the most common format being the exercise of voting rights at annual general meetings or meetings of the governing body (the board) followed by consultative face-to-face meetings, and online consultations. There is a similar pattern when it comes to forms of membership influence in socially oriented CSOs, but this is to a lower extent. A small proportion of socially oriented CSOs do not involve their members in decision-making at all (see Figure 19.4). Only CSOs with a formal membership responded to this particular question; hence, the total number of respondents was 180. Surprisingly, there is a marked difference between the two types of CSOs in the use of consultative face-to-face meetings as a means for members to exert their influence, suggesting that members of socially oriented CSOs meet less frequently. Although this finding was unexpected, it can be explained by the lower financial and human resources available to socially oriented CSOs in North Macedonia, since providing opportunities for members’ influence requires some organizational capacity and financial expense. Despite the cost-effective nature of digital modes of consultation, these are used to a lesser extent than in-person consultations by both types of CSOs, even though CSOs in North Macedonia are increasingly communicating via social media (Jakoski and Ristovski, 2017). 280

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Figure 19.3 The share of CSOs in which members make authoritative decisions in key areas of governance (%)

Figure 19.4 Ways in which members participate in decision-making across CSO types (%)

Importance assigned to members’ involvement in CSO activities Both politically and socially oriented CSOs deem members important or very important for carrying out organizational activities, and there is not much difference in this regard between the two types of CSOs (see Figure 19.5). This suggests that members are used as a source of voluntary support for CSOs, serving as human resource reinforcements in the absence or very limited number of paid staff. 281

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Figure 19.5 Importance assigned to the participation by members in CSOs’ activities (averages on a Likert scale ranging from 1 to 5, where 5 shows the highest importance)

One area to which CSOs assign the least importance in terms of members’ participation relates to the collection of donations from the public. This is consistent with the underdeveloped fundraising practices of CSOs and limited scale of private philanthropy in the country. In summary, the findings do not corroborate the often-held view that politically oriented CSOs in North Macedonia are more detached from their social basis, when compared to socially oriented ones, since in the former CSOs members appear to have greater influence in key decision-making areas, and roughly the same level of involvement in advocacy, information provision and other activities as socially oriented CSOs.

Political activities Figure 19.6 distinguishes between the outside and inside lobbying strategies used by CSOs, a distinction derived from the literature. As might be expected, politically oriented CSOs contribute to a greater extent to institutional democratic effects than socially oriented CSOs. A greater share of politically oriented CSOs engage in outside and inside lobbying, and the difference is noticeable across all forms of political activities. The area in which both types of CSOs are least engaged is the organization of public gatherings, a form of political engagement which is more adversarial in nature, and is therefore often regarded by CSOs as a last resort for exercising influence (De Bruycker and Beyers, 2019). The most common form of political engagement for both types of CSOs is inside lobbying through participation in consultations and working group meetings on policy issues. 282

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Figure 19.6 The share of CSOs engaged in outsider and insider strategies of influence (%)

Hence, while CSOs use a combination of strategies to exercise influence, they clearly find insider strategies more useful.

Limitations The results presented above have a number of limitations, with the principal one being that we are not sure whether the sample of respondents is really representative of all CSOs in North Macedonia, despite the large number of respondents. It was not possible to test for representativeness as there was insufficient relevant information about the characteristics of the entire CSO population in North Macedonia. Another weakness is that the results only offer insights on the basic characteristics of the social and political interest groups and their democratic effects. A deeper analysis could identify further similarities and differences in these organizations’ ability to foster democratic practices among their members and society as a whole. Also, although this chapter discussed the types of broad political activities that CSOs engage in, the data did not capture the frequency of access to political institutions, and the (perceived or actual) influence on policymaking. Further research on these issues would make a useful contribution to the literature on CSOs in North Macedonia.

Conclusion and implications This chapter has investigated a number of characteristics peculiar to CSOs in North Macedonia, in line with the research objectives outlined in the introduction to this chapter, via a survey of 234 representatives from CSOs. 283

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A surprising result of this analysis is that in practice politically oriented CSOs defy existing criticisms that they are detached from the citizens (Kacarska and Atanasova, 2009). This is because such CSOs were found to engage their members to a greater extent than socially oriented ones. This suggests that politically oriented CSOs are more likely to act as transmission belts between the citizens and the government, and to cultivate important social and political skills to articulate citizens’ interests. On the other hand, socially oriented CSOs, while providing opportunities for members’ involvement, are found to be less likely to contribute to institutional and individual democratic effects in practice. This finding would seem to question the belief that locally and regionally based grassroots CSOs, which are closer to the communities they serve, are better ‘schools of democracy’ than politically oriented CSOs. The main reason for this is probably that socially oriented CSOs have lower financial and human resource capacities than politically oriented CSOs. Thus, the long-term investment of the EU and foreign donors in politically oriented CSOs in North Macedonia seems to be paying off. However, we should keep in mind that these CSOs constitute only a section of the overall organizational population, many of which are smaller, resource poor and socially oriented. Furthermore, both socially and politically oriented CSOs have small memberships which may be due to the size of the country, but also to the lack of a historical legacy of voluntary action through CSOs, and this is typical of postcommunist societies (Rozbicka et al., 2021). Even though small memberships might foster more efficient decision-making processes, the fact that CSOs involve only a small section of the population limits the social capital and skills that citizens develop through civil society engagement. Added to this is that the dependence on foreign funders may dent public trust in politically oriented CSOs despite their potential to contribute to building democracy in North Macedonia. The findings have practical implications for stakeholders interested in developing the democratic potential of CSOs. To enhance this potential, it is essential to increase the membership of CSOs, as the membership base not only improves financial sustainability through membership fees but also improves the chance that the democratic aims and activities of the organizations are shared and experienced by a wider proportion of the population. As indicated above, politically oriented CSOs tend to attract more external (foreign) funds than socially oriented CSOs. However, this may limit trust in these types of CSOs, and therefore information campaigns to improve confidence in these organizations would be useful. In addition, there is the need for an increase in further capacity building support (e.g. funding, training) for the socially oriented CSOs, to enable them to strengthen their organizational capacities. As a small state, with a short history of state independence, North Macedonia needs to strengthen its democratic credentials, and CSOs have a major role to play in this regard. The responses to the survey indicate that these organizations perform various functions which enable them to link the citizens and the state, a basic requisite for democracy, thereby fostering citizens’ participation in various aspects of decision-making. Although this chapter has provided some new insights, many gaps remain in understanding the roles of CSOs in North Macedonia. Further research in needed to explain how exposure to regulatory and funding constraints affect the internal democracy of CSOs and their ability to foster democracy in society at large. Another area which merits further research relates to the relationship between the CSOs in small states and their foreign funders, where foreign influence may, or may not, be exerted in the interests of the funders more so than in the interests of the country’s population.

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Notes 1 Public interest groups are defined as non-profit, self-governing, private, voluntary organizations which aim to influence decision-making in order to pursue certain collective goods (i.e. clean environment, social justice, gender equality) (Weiler and Brändli, 2015, p. 748). 2 https://popis2021.stat.gov.mk/%D0%9E%D0%BF%D1%84%D0%B0%D1%82/ (accessed 31 March 2022). 3 The register includes 10,171 non-profit entities, but it is estimated that more than half of these are dormant entities. 4 www.crm.com.mk/mk/otvoreni-podatotsi/statistichki-bilten?t=1&v=0&y=2020,2019,2018&ortg=14 (accessed 31 March 2022). 5 https://civicamobilitas.mk/en/civica-mobilitas/. 6 Organized civil society is defined as the space between the state and the market, populated by organizations which are formal, non-profit, voluntary and non-governmental (Bolleyer and Correa Vila, 2020).

Acknowledgements I am grateful to the Macedonian Center for International Cooperation based in Skopje for the survey data and to Aleksandra Savevska for responding to my follow-up questions.

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20 How civil society organizations brought change to the Maltese government between 2019 and 2020 Mario Thomas Vassallo, Jean Claude Cachia and André P. DeBattista

Introduction Civil society organizations (CSOs) are becoming more diverse in scope, reach and engagement. Some develop a working relationship with governments and engage in public-social partnerships. Others are considered to be transformationalists, and are likely to adopt an antagonist attitude towards governing elites. This chapter deals with an example of the latter type of CSOs, assessing its effectiveness in promoting good governance. Research is contextualized within the intensive saga of events that developed in Malta from late 2019 to early 2020, mainly calling for the resignation of top government officials after a series of alleged political/ business collusions that ultimately led to the assassination of Daphne Caruana Galizia (1964– 2017), a journalist and blogger. The case of Malta is particularly interesting because, traditionally, CSOs were relatively weak and marginalized in this small state, with the three main pillars of Maltese public life being the two leading political parties, the media and private enterprise. All three were affected by the events which took place in the years between 2017 and 2020. This observation is developed throughout this chapter. CSOs from the left and the right of the political spectrum came together under one banner to protest against institutional corruption, money laundering and the delays in bringing the assassins of Daphne Caruana Galizia to justice. Weeks of demonstrations, marches, sit-ins and civil disobedience morphed into a national political crisis that had widespread ramifications at the European level as it raised concerns about the ability of the European Union (EU) to deal with rule of law issues confronted by its member states (Politico, 2018). This chapter argues that, through the strategies and coordinated actions adopted by CSOs in Malta during the period from October 2019 to March 2020, they managed to bring about some political change and establish CSOs as pillars of the Maltese public sphere. This chapter ponders upon future civic engagement trajectories in this highly polarized political landscape, similar to that prevalent in other small jurisdictions. The inquiry is structured in three main parts. First, it contemplates the concept of interest representation and the role of CSOs in civic engagement and mass mobilization. Then, the

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study contextualizes the ensuing discussion within the parameters of small island states and, in particular, exposes the political landscape of Malta as the smallest EU member state. Finally, the study focuses on the changes brought about by civil society in Malta between 2019 and 2020 that eventually led to a series of resignations among the top tier of national governance.

Literature review This brief literature review covers four main themes including the main strands of literature concerning interest groups, and the trust/scepticism dynamic that they face during their campaigns, the political landscapes in a micro-polity, with a specific section on the Maltese political landscape and, finally, the challenge of bridging economic prosperity and good governance.

Interest groups: trust and scepticism in civil society campaigns Interest representation comprises a wide and diversified range of rational entities, united by a shared belief system, with the ability to act on behalf of their members and which, therefore, have some influence either on public opinion or on the government to attain their prescribed goals (Scruton, 2007, p. 338; Huggins and Turner, 1997). All forms of public activism are commonly referred to as the ‘third sector’ of the economy (Chapman 2006; Evers and Laville 2004; Anheier and Seibel, 1990). However, more recently, international organizations such as the United Nations, the World Bank and the European Commission, seem to prefer the allembracing term ‘civil society’ (Xuereb, 2009; Axford et al., 1997). Although the literature does sometimes differentiate between interest groups and civil society where the former are associated with self-centred inside lobbying and the latter as being more transparent in defending the common good (Beyers et al. 2008: 1110), empirical research on their action strategies and target institutions suggests that they can have similar objectives. Ultimately, they all seek to represent the interests of specific sections of society and ‘their action strategies and degree of organisation must be placed on a continuum from loose to very organised, and from informal to formal consultation to protest movements’ (Saurugger, 2013, p. 336). Campaigns are fought over a bewildering range of issues, from abolishing inhumane practices to ending the trade in ivory and animal furs, from women’s rights to resistance to building a bypass around a rural town (Downing, 2002, p. 8). Much of the organized interaction between state institutions and the numerous interests in society occurs through CSOs, the study of which is thus of significant importance in understanding the relationship between state and society (Vassallo, 2015; Smismans, 2006). Almost all organized interests contribute in different and sometimes conflicting ways to enlarging social participation and mass mobilization. Groups have often been credited with the ability to counteract the anonymity and indifference of mass society and, as a consequence, provide individual citizens with the necessary scope and tools to transform passive and representative democracies, or even ‘totalitarian and authoritarian dictatorships’, to ‘truly engaging and participatory democratic societies’ (Werner and Wilson, 2008, p. 363). Numerous scholars have attempted to classify interest groups into a coherent typology. Wyn Grant (2000) divides groups into insider and outsider groups, depending on their relationship with the central government. Insider groups are seen as having political legitimacy with the government of the day, and consequently they are valued for their policy credibility. They can take advantage of regular access to senior echelons of government and the civil service. Insider groups typically operate within the existing ‘rules of the game’. Meanwhile, outsider groups – sometimes called transformationalists – are largely excluded from political consultation and 289

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contact. They may lack resources and political clout, implying that they must work outside the governmental decision-making process. Some groups are ideologically opposed to political systems, notably anti-conformists and radical minorities and, thus, are termed antagonists. They choose to exert pressure by circumventing existing political institutions which they regard as lacking legitimacy and credibility. Such groups prefer to retain their independence from any state interference and choose to lobby outside the perimeters of government. According to Van Schendelen (2005, p. 44), coercive action is their first weapon of choice to exert pressure on political authorities and influence public perception.

The political landscape of a micro-polity CSOs provide a link between state actors and the rest of society (Bache and George, 2006). Their meaningful input into the decision-making process is seen as a sign of a functioning democracy (Karr, 2006; Smismans, 2006). This is more so in contemporary times, characterized by the erosion of public trust in traditional politics made evident by popular uprisings, poor electoral turnouts, low party memberships and dwindling interest in traditional political affairs (Farrell et al., 2013, pp. 100–101). Although elected government officials may feel ‘first among equals’ due to their democratic mandate through the ballot box and formal accountability through the institutions, they increasingly need to work with and through other representative groups (Chapman and Lowndes, 2009). Similarly, although enjoying an elevated position of control within a highly centralized governance structure, small states’ political elites are aware of the escalating importance of CSOs in managing public affairs within a more globalized context (Vassallo, 2015). Decoding the performance of civil society entails a configuration of the political terrain in which it is functioning. By understanding the political climate, scholars can figure out the diverse nature of actors and their webs of interconnectedness. The governance of small island polities tends to present a unique scenario. Their experiences are composed of distinctive elements and other features common to many states, large and small, developed and developing (Warrington, 1997). This blend of shared and distinctive factors merits examination and perhaps holds some lessons that could be applied elsewhere, bearing in mind that the process to achieving good governance is never linear and always complex. In a nutshell, small polities can be as complex as very large ones; small size does not automatically imply simplicity and uniformity.

Malta’s political landscape The analysis of Malta’s political terrain reveals a hybridized model of governance based on idiosyncratic features and differing degrees of polarization and pragmatism. Central government still hold extensive powers as the concept of regional and local governance is much less defined and active than in large states (Warrington, 1993). Warrington (1993, p. 167) concludes that small states seem to ‘remain complacent about big government’. Moreover, ‘a grid of strong and close personal connections resembling parish divisions’ (Friggieri, 2009; Koster, 1988) – and personalism – ‘a pattern of relations in which people are valued for who they are and whom they know’ (Laffan and O’Mahoney, 2008, p. 137; Chubb, 1992, p. 13) – suggest the existence of parochialism and clientelism in Maltese politics. Boissevain (2016, p. 104) suggests a replication of Catholic intercessory prayer in the political field: ‘It is believed, especially by the less influential … that in order to accomplish anything you have to have a protector. That is, you need a patron, someone who can intercede on your 290

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behalf with important decision-makers’. The combined characteristic of smallness, periphery and insularity makes for a particularly intense social relationships (Corbett and Veenendaal, 2018). Small states are more prone to elitist power structures for various reasons, including the relatively small number of organized groups who can act as veto players, the proximity of politicians among business lobbies and community leaders, and the reliance on inherited modes of governance originating from colonial times (Vassallo, 2015). Viewed from this perspective, Maltese social activism is fragmented and competitive. Civil society is characterized by a cacophony of voices which have gained more momentum since the country’s accession to the EU in 2004. Smaller, self-governing territories tend to have a ubiquitous government which ‘seeks on one hand to duplicate the range of services offered in the larger states, and on the other is subject to fewer constraints from countervailing sectors, pressure groups, or non-governmental institutional activity’ (Sutton, 1987, p. 15). The pervasiveness of government, thus, raises questions about issues of administrative and judicial impartiality. There is a sense of ‘exaggerated personalism’ whereby individual roles take on greater significance and, therefore, such roles are subject to greater internal and external pressures: politicians exercise greater influence over administrators … senior administrative and political office holders have more direct contact with the man in the street … top political leaders are more likely to communicate directly with one another and directly to oversee the actions of their lieutenants; there is less functional specialisation among politicians and both they and senior administrators are likely to accumulate roles. (Sutton, 1987, p. 15) Such characteristics are also present in the Maltese polity and have been consolidated and entrenched by the two main political parties, the Partit Nazzjonalista (PN – Nationalist Party) and the Partit Laburista (PL – Labour Party). The PN and the PL have evolved into ‘catch-all’ parties with a strong media apparatus, ‘acting like total institutions’ (Baldacchino, 2002). The former adheres to traditional European Christian democratic ideals, while the latter has followed the tendency of other European socialist parties to shift more towards the centre of the political spectrum and now labels itself as a new political movement for progressives and liberals. Domestic politics remain rife with divisive discourse. This state of affairs is deemed to be ‘the purest two-party system in the developed world’ (Cini 2002), rendering Malta a country ‘floating between two mutually exclusive concepts’ (Friggieri, 2008, p. 57). With one of the highest voter turnout rates in the world, typically exceeding 90 per cent, Malta’s population is habitually highly politically aware, participating enthusiastically in debates, elections and political manifestations (Corporate Village Malta, 2010, p. 61). Other factors also influence voters’ choices. Meltzer and Richard (1981) outline how voters usually base their decisions on economic factors or ideological premises. The first approach envisages that voters cast their ballots according to their standards of economic wellbeing, that is, their employability, earnings and exposure to risks, including layoffs. Given that it is difficult for the average person to assess the sustainability and strength of the national economy, voting decisions are based on the financial status of the household (Arel-Blundock, Blais and Dassonneville, 2019). The situation becomes more critical in Malta, where the main political parties have their own radio and television stations, as well as other social media platforms. As a result, the public is constantly presented with politically biased information and a revisionist account of events (Cachia and DeBattista, 2018). This theory of voting behaviour shows how positive 291

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economic interventions, such as economic incentives and the reduction of taxes, will always encourage voters to favour the incumbent party (Margalit, 2019). As outlined by Meltzer and Richard (1981), the other option contemplates that voters base their decisions on ideological dispositions. Added to this there is the issue of inherited sectarian attitudes. In this case, party identification and polarization shape voting by mindsets inherited from generation to generation (Friggieri, 2014). While Malta’s political parties have shifted towards the centre of the ideological spectrum, identification and partisanship are still prevalent, even when the main political parties have embraced pragmatism in their attempt to win over independent voters. In addition, small island polities are also characterized by pervading familism. State institutions are suffused with family loyalties or personal connections. This makes ‘personal involvement in public affairs inevitable and nepotism unavoidable’. What is equally dangerous is that citizens in such states ‘accept kinship relations as the warp and woof of public affairs and family favouritisms as a fact of life’, thus distorting the idea of good governance (Lowenthal, 1987, pp. 40–41). These themes are at the heart of the topic under consideration, particularly since the entrenched corruption and denial of justice were fundamentally affected by issues of kinship and intense partisanship.

The conundrum between economic prosperity and good governance The shift in values, oscillating between economic and ideological priorities, profoundly impacts the voting behaviour of the Maltese electorate, and this was certainly the case under the premiership of Joseph Muscat (2013–2020). Muscat is considered one of the most popular yet polarizing figures in Malta’s political history. He took the helm of the PL after the party’s narrow defeat in the 2008 national election. A former member of the European Parliament, Muscat pledged to create a political movement that would bring together people from different ideologies and backgrounds, and who would work together for the interest of the country (DeBattista, cited in Sammut Sassi, 2021). He received a strong political mandate to implement the PL manifesto, winning by a vast majority in the 2013 and 2017 national elections, with 54.83 per cent of the vote in 2013 and 55.04 per cent of the vote in 2017. The gaps between the main political parties were some of the largest in Malta’s political history. With such strong mandates, Prime Minister Muscat had the political legitimacy to enact the reforms that he had promised in his manifesto (Malta Electoral Commission, 2022). As prime minister, he pushed various reforms, including widening civil liberties. He introduced civil unions and later same-sex marriage and eventually legalized adoption for same-sex couples (Debono, 2018). With bread-and-butter issues still dominating Malta’s political scene when he took power in 2013, Muscat introduced an array of economic benefits that included free childcare for parents who were either studying or working. This served to encourage more women to join the workforce. Other benefits included reducing property tax for first-time buyers and the reduction of energy tariffs. These benefits were led to a decrease in the unemployment rate in Malta (Balzan, 2019). As a result of the booming construction industry and the introduction of the controversial International Investment Programme (dubbed the ‘cash for passport’ scheme), Malta had one of the fastest-growing economies in the EU prior to the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020. This period of rapid, unprecedented economic growth generated jobs and permitted the government to engage in largesse (Pace, 2017). This enabled the Maltese premier to retain his popularity even during the political crisis that led to his resignation. 292

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Despite several markers of socioeconomic success, public perception of Malta’s political elites has been marred by allegations of corruption. Consequently, during the Muscat administration Malta was awarded its worst ever rating on the International Corruption Perceptions Index. Reports told of money laundering cases, tax evasion via offshore havens (including those connected with the Panama Papers scandal), nepotism and various instances of bribery and fraud. The assassination of Daphne Caruana Galizia served as a critical juncture to unite disparate groups in the fight for justice, accountability and the rule of law, thus shifting the focus from economic wellbeing to ideological aspirations rooted in good governance. Dujardin succinctly sums this up thus: ‘Daphne Caruana Galizia’s last day became the first day for many people and many families of a long campaign to seek truth and justice for her’ (cited in Delia, 2021, p. 37).

Daphne Caruana Galizia’s assassination and the role of civil society One of the earliest and most staunch critics of Joseph Muscat was the journalist and blogger Daphne Caruana Galizia. She was Malta’s leading investigative journalist who began her career in journalism in 1987. In her teens and early twenties, she was a persistent critic of the government of the day for its perceived authoritarian and anti-democratic bent. Until her assassination on 16 October 2017 she wrote a bi-weekly column in the Malta Independent. However, her most significant journalistic contribution was her blog which she set up in 2008 to bypass editorial scrutiny. The blog soon became Malta’s most popular website combining first-rate investigative journalism with her political commentary that often pushed the boundaries. In 2017, Politico identified her as one of 28 people most likely to influence the world. She was described as a ‘one-woman WikiLeaks’ (see Borg, 2017). Daphne Caruana Galizia was a polarizing figure, and she consistently became the main opposition force to the PL government. However, she was not discouraged by the various attacks and threats against her and continued to unveil allegations of corrupt practices, dubious deals and illegitimate links between politics and big business until her life was brought to an abrupt and tragic end by a car bomb. Her assassination empowered civil society to seek justice and tarnished the Maltese government’s international reputation at the European and international level. CSOs sought justice in various ways and often challenged the PL administration through various avenues, including the Maltese courts, EU institutions and the Council of Europe. Caruana Galizia’s blog outlined the various corruption allegations which involved Muscat and two of his closest associates – his Chief of Staff and childhood friend Keith Schembri and the Minister for Energy Konrad Mizzi, who was also responsible for some of the largest and most significant infrastructural projects Malta had seen until then. Her accusations concerning the Panama Papers scandal1 led Muscat to call an early election in the middle of the rotating EU presidency hosted by Malta in 2017. Daphne Caruana Galizia argued that the early election was used to legitimize Muscat’s ‘crooked’ policies and diffuse the allegations of corruption against him and his close associates (Cachia and DeBattista, 2018; DeBattista in Sammut Sassi, 2021). The early 2017 election, amid a political crisis, provided the Maltese voters with two choices: either they could vote for the PN’s manifesto based on a good governance agenda or they could retain the economicdriven promises promulgated by the PL. The voters ultimately choose the latter. In 2017, Muscat won another landslide victory despite the corruption allegations being levelled against his administration (Pace, 2017). This highlights how the country’s economic performance was, by far, the most crucial incentive for the people to vote for the incumbent. The PL’s victory served to isolate the voices that were critical of Joseph Muscat yet further. The euphoria of 293

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another landslide victory possibly emboldened the assassins of Daphne Caruana Galizia, who was killed just four months after the election. The assassination of Daphne Caruana Galizia shocked the Maltese institutions. Moreover, it led to the emergence of several CSOs which pushed for the resignation of Muscat and other close political associates – including his chief of staff and the energy minister – due to their alleged involvement in dubious public deals. The non-governmental organizations (NGOs) Repubblika and Occupy Justice Malta were created around the same time that the murder of the journalist took place, and they collaborated closely with the blogger and former PN politician Manuel Delia. Delia debates various domestic political issues in his blog and exposes corruption allegations against the government and its officials (Delia, 2021). Repubblika was set up in 2018 with a view to defend democracy and the rule of law while encouraging institutional reforms (Malta Independent, 2018). Occupy Justice Malta (2021) is an activist group led by women seeking to make justice prevail in the country. In addition, Moviment Graffitti joined these movements. This movement is a left-leaning group set up in 1994 to oppose the exploitation of people and to safeguard the environment (Moviment Graffitti, 2022). Moviment Graffitti had already established itself as the leading pressure group against over-development and made successful use of the courts to revoke various permits issued by Malta’s planning authority. Thus, a coalition of transformationalist CSOs encompassing different aspects of the political-ideological spectrum was formed to trigger dissent, resistance and confrontation against the skewed moral compass of the Muscat administration. Two symbols emerged – the bay leaf plant and the raised pen. The former was used by Occupy Justice activists as ‘a symbol of strength and courage, after Daphne Caruana Galizia’s sons – Matthew, Andrew and Paul – sent the activists bay leaves from their mother’s garden by way of gratitude, when they were camping in Castille square’ (Muscat, 2017). The raised pen recognized that Daphne Caruana Galizia was murdered for writing about and investigating corruption. Moreover, it symbolized a dogged determination not to give in to intimidation. These CSOs managed to mobilize the masses and organize frequent street protests calling for the resignation of Prime Minister Muscat and all the politicians and technocrats implicated in various corrupt practices. Table 20.1 shows the timeline of events that unfolded between November 2019 and early 2020. Organizers contested claims that the protests were violent, while an official spokesperson for the government declared that some protesters did ‘resort to violence, abuse and incitement’ (Farrugia, 2019). Nevertheless, sporadic protests and regular remembrance vigils continued to be organized even after Muscat’s resignation in order to keep institutional corruption and the assassination of the journalist high on the domestic and European agendas. One of the first clashes between the Muscat administration and CSOs concerned the use of the Great Siege monument2 in Valletta as a makeshift memorial for Daphne Caruana Galizia. The use of this monument, a highly symbolic monument inaugurated in 1927 when Malta was still a British colony, was significant not only because of Daphne’s fight for the truth despite being continuously besieged by staunch government supporters but also because the monument is situated in the heart of the capital city in front of the Maltese law courts, and half-way between the Presidential Palace and the House of Representatives. Its use as a makeshift monument was also rather haphazard; it began after a group of school children marched in Valletta and placed flowers before the monument. It soon served as a rallying place for those who sought justice for the assassinated journalist. Posters, candles and flowers in remembrance of Daphne Caruana Galizia were placed before the monument – and removed by the government soon afterwards. This was done repeatedly. The activists referred the case to the courts to 294

How civil society organizations brought change to the Maltese government Table 20.1 Mass mobilization by CSOs (2019–2020)

Date

Civil society groups

21 November 2019 22 November 2019 24 November 2019 26 November 2019 27 November 2019 29 November 2019 30 November 2019 1 December 2019 1 December 2019 2 December 2019 3 December 2019 8 December 2019 9 December 2019 13 December 2019 18 December 2019 5 January 2020 13 January 2020

Repubblika, Occupy Justice Castille Square* Repubblika, Occupy Justice Castille Square Repubblika, Occupy Justice Parliament Repubblika, Occupy Justice Parliament, Castille Square Repubblika, Occupy Justice Valletta and Floriana Repubblika, Occupy Justice Valletta Moviment Graffitti Castille Square Repubblika, Occupy Justice Parliament Prime Minister Mucat announces that he is stepping down Repubblika, Occupy Justice Parliament Repubblika, Occupy Justice Castille Square Repubblika, Occupy Justice Castille Square Moviment Graffitti Castille Square Repubblika, Occupy Justice Valletta European Parliament calls for the resignation of Muscat Repubblika, Occupy Justice Valletta Muscat resigns as prime minister and member of parliament

Venue

Note: * Castille Square is the location of the prime minister’s office in the Auberge de Castille.

safeguard their right to pay tribute to the murdered journalist. The court battle between civil society activists and the state was eventually settled in 2020 when the Maltese courts declared that they were being denied their fundamental freedom of expression when the government repeatedly ordered the clearance of the makeshift memorial. An official of the NGO Repubblika commented on the significance of this memorial: It is firstly a protest about fundamentals that are so crucial to civic and public society – justice, democracy, rule of law – and thus they deserve to be expressed openly in an agora: in the principal public square of the administrative capital of Malta. (Crespo, 2018) The fight for justice also revolved around the public inquiry into the assassination of Daphne Caruana Galizia. For justice to occur, various CSOs, together with the Daphne Caruana Galizia Foundation,3 called for a public enquiry into her assassination. This was vehemently opposed by the Muscat administration, which argued that investigations conducted by the Maltese police force, Interpol and the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) were already being conducted. Dissatisfied by the government’s rationale, CSOs turned to the Council of Europe to exert more pressure on the Maltese authorities. As a result, the Parliamentary Assembly for the Council of Europe passed a resolution on 26 June 2019 compelling Malta to open a public inquiry within three months and to fulfil its obligations under Article 2 of the European Convention of Human Rights (Daphne Caruana Galizia Foundation, 2022). The PL’s delegation had defended the position of Malta within the Council of Europe and had attempted to make more than 50 amendments to the final report (Bonini et al., 2019). 295

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The public inquiry concluded that the Maltese state had failed to recognize that Daphne Caruana Galizia’s life was at risk and to take reasonable steps to avoid such risks. Instead, the 437-page report argued that the state created ‘an atmosphere of impunity, generated by the highest echelons’ and accused the government of an ‘unwarranted closeness’ with big business. The report’s conclusions vindicated several demands put forward by CSOs. The arrest of business tycoon Yorgen Fenech on 20 November 2019 proved to be another critical juncture in the call for the resignation of Prime Minister Muscat. Fenech was arrested on the premise that he was the mastermind behind the assassination of the journalist and, at the same time, he was alleged to have woven an intricate web of connections with politicians who supported his dubious deals involving public funds. The arrest of Yorgen Fenech led CSOs to organize a series of national protests in front of the main seats of power, including the prime minister’s office, Parliament and the police headquarters. These protests included CSOs of all ideological hues. In addition, the independent media joined such groups in calling for the resignation and investigation of Prime Minister Muscat, his Chief of Staff Keith Schembri and Minister of Energy Konrad Mizzi, together with other close associates. Protests were held on a quasi-daily basis, and the opposition announced that it would no longer recognize the legitimacy of the prime minister. As a result, political instability was rife, and government politicians were pelted with rotten eggs and fake money notes by angry activists. As political pressure mounted and the position of some ministers became untenable, on 1 December 2019, the prime minister announced his intention to resign once a new PL leader had been selected (Grech, 2019). Muscat remained defiant during his final days as prime minister, declaring: I am not perfect. And I have my own shortcomings … I assure you I gave everything in return for the trust you gave me … I had my defects and for them, I apologise personally, even when these shortcomings were because of someone else. (Cited in Grech, 2019) The announcement did not stop the protests since Muscat did not resign immediately. The European Parliament also decided to discuss the matter. On 18 December 2019, it called for Muscat to resign immediately to safeguard the integrity of Daphne Caruana Galizia’s murder investigation (Rankin, 2019). Muscat relinquished his post in January 2020 after Robert Abela was elected leader of the PL. At the time of writing, despite being questioned by the police over other alleged corrupt deals, Muscat remained popular among his supporters, with 61 per cent of PL voters declaring that they would still vote for him if he were to re-contest the next national election (Meilak, 2021).

Analysing the aftermath The events under examination in this chapter provide an interesting case study of a small island polity with a strong two-party system and a weak civil society that was shaken to the core by the assassination of a journalist. This assassination and the ensuing inquiries proved to be critical junctures in the ascent of CSOs, although it remains a moot point whether such groups can keep up their momentum. Sant Cassia (2017, pp. 151–152) looks at some characteristics of small-scale societies and transposes this analysis to elucidate some meaning following the assassination of Daphne Caruana Galizia. First, he contends that such societies ‘have an inbuilt conservative tendency, based 296

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upon a conscious culture of isolation and localised exceptionalism’. In particular, ‘Commitment to smaller groups (such as family and political party) is historically greater and far more visceral than to civil society, and (in Malta’s case), is partly due to Catholicism and neo-colonialism that persist in local culture’. He also puts forward interesting observations on the nature of economic activity in a small island state where ‘economies tend to take advantage of gaps and disjunctures in the international flow and regulation of legal and illicit capital to create particular economic niches for themselves’ rendering themselves ‘vulnerable to semi-legal, and outright illegal flows of global capital’. Although this would generally be a matter of concern to any government, this may not be the case in a small state where there is a dependence on such activities ‘to generate external income thus alleviating the tax burden and distributing largesse and patronage’. This leads to a situation whereby the tightly-knit and ‘intricated’ administrative and political elite may be more easily and effectively compromised, and public opinion may not have the autonomy, political sophistication, and effectiveness found in larger more diversified polities to express disquiet about the social effects and implications of national economic policy. In essence, this was the climate which made the assassination of Daphne Caruana Galizia possible or, as Sant Cassia (2017) cogently argues, ‘an assassination foretold’. Some of these points are corroborated by Veenendaal (2020). He argues that patron-client relationships ‘undermine the quality of political representation’ without, however, compromising regime stability or the ‘continuing participation of citizens in political affairs’. Nonetheless, the small state dynamic implies that politicians ‘have a much greater influence on the private lives of citizens’ and, therefore, ‘political affiliations strongly determine social interactions in the private sphere’. The political economy of the small state becomes crucial: Being the largest employer, the state is regarded as the greatest prize to be won, and because politics and the state are omnipresent in society, it matters a great deal to individual voters which parties and politicians are in power. (Veenendaal, 2020) The assassination of Daphne Caruana Galizia led to a brief moment of collective introspection where some deep-seated cultural attitudes were questioned anew. In this regard, CSOs filled a vacuum not previously occupied by the main pillars of Maltese society – the leading political parties, the media and business enterprise. In doing so, they also briefly changed the social dynamic. Table 20.2 outlines such changes and posits how they may play out in the long term. In a small island state where party politics forms the crux of the nation’s strategic decisions and the state’s institutional design, the advent of political stakeholders that function beyond the parameters of political parties took the Maltese elites by surprise. Critics of the PL claim that this saga of events that led to the fall of a powerful prime minister and the rise of civil society changed Malta’s history forever: ‘That was the first time we were able to look at a politician in the face and tell him “you are corrupt and you shouldn’t be standing by this”. It was outrage that they held in for two whole years’, recalled one of the activists (The Shift News, 2020). The Times of Malta asserts that ‘Networks of civil society groups act as a counter-weight to vested interests and promote institutional accountability. They help to influence the social contracts between government and citizen that are needed for a healthy society’ (Xuereb, 2020). Other opinion-makers expressed contrasting views. They accuse Repubblika, Occupy Justice and Manuel Delia’s blog as being run by disgruntled nationalists who could not flourish 297

Mario Thomas Vassallo, Jean Claude Cachia and André P. DeBattista Table 20.2 Effect of actions by CSOs

Short-term effect

Long-term effect

Leading political parties

Greater awareness of the limitations of partisan politics and the effects of unfettered partisanship on the apparatus of the state. Two party leaders – critical of Daphne Caruana Galizia in the run-up to her assassination – changed over a period of 12 months. Loyalty to party structures among the grassroots remains strong. Support for third parties remains insignificant.

The media

The bias of party media becomes more evident The risks faced by journalists become more apparent. Shady and corrupt business deals come to the fore, thus confirming the suspicions of many.

Greater awareness of the need for the party apparatus to be separate from the state apparatus. Institutional reforms were enacted to this effect. Whether such reforms were merely cosmetic remains to be seen. Loyalty to party structures among the grassroots remains strong; no significant changes in the political make-up. Issues of clientelism and standards in public life gain traction and may improve support for third parties In the long term, attitudes towards the media and business enterprise are unlikely to change.

Business enterprise

Table 20.3 Levels of trust and scepticism

Trust Political parties

The media

Business enterprise

Scepticism

Moderately low Moderately high Political parties are aware that, although important in a democracy, civil society groups are competing for influence in the same public arena. As a result, some political parties may jump onto the bandwagon of CSOs if the cause they are championing favours them. High Low CSOs have become important driving forces of political reform and the acquisition of rights which the media have long been campaigning for. Difficult to detect Traditionally opportunistic, business enterprises, especially the large ones, may have wished the prime minister to resign due to economic uncertainty and instability. However, the same businesses were known to engage in clientelistic behaviour with possible knowledge of Muscat.

within the structures of the PN and, therefore, formed their platforms to counterbalance their weakened party in its cause against institutional corruption (see the blog by Simon Mercieca4). On the other hand, critics of social movements, particularly those who favoured the party in government, maintained that Prime Minister Muscat resigned of his own accord and not because of mass mobilization, demonstrations and public outcry calling for his ouster. These two opposing views mirror the contrasting views of many commentators in the field of politics and civic activism. 298

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These issues are related to trust and scepticism which feature heavily in the debate under investigation. Table 20.3 attempts to map out how individual groups reacted to CSOs in terms of trust and scepticism The events which unfolded in Malta in late 2019 and early 2020 reveal an evolving situation that cannot exclude CSOs as actors of influence. They have, effectively, proved to be capable of mobilizing other social actors in bringing results – possibly lasting ones – in this case the unseating of a prime minister, something which was previously almost the sole prerogative of opposition parties. This can, in some ways, be interpreted as the gradual Europeanization of the Maltese public sphere whereby CSOs in this small island polity are beginning to realize that they can also be change-makers.

Notes 1 The Panama Papers scandal involved the leak of 11.5 million documents from the Panamanian law firm Mossack Fonseca. The revelations included stories of the setting up of offshore companies in Panama for unknown purposes – though widely purported to involve money laundering of the proceeds of corruption. Those implicated in Malta included the former Chief of Staff Keith Schembri and former Minister of Energy Konrad Mizzi. Prime Minister Joseph Muscat and his wife were also mentioned, although they strongly denied any allegations brought against them. 2 Inaugurated on the 8 May 1927, this monument marks the end of the supposed Great Siege of 1565 when the Order of St John defeated the invading Ottoman army. Designed by Anthony Sciortino and located opposite the law courts, the three figures represent the values of faith, fortitutde and courage. 3 The Daphne Caruana Galizia Foundation was founded with the aim of ensuring ‘justice for her assassination and to continue her fight for press freedom and liberal democracy and against populism, corruption and impunity in Malta and internationally’ (see https://www.daphne.foundation/en/). 4 This blog is run by historian and academic Dr Simon Mercieca and proposes to offer ‘other viewpoints on current affairs’ (see https://simonmercieca.com/).

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Olson, M. (1982). The Rise and Decline of Nations. Yale University Press. Pace, R. (2017). Winning against the Trend: Labour’s Victory in the 2017 Maltese Parliamentary Election. South European Society and Politics, 22(4), 509–529. Politico (2018). Big Trouble in Little Malta. Politico. www.politico.eu/article/big-trouble-in-little-malta/. Rankin, J. (2019). EU Parliament Calls on Malta PM to Resign Now over Caruana Galizia. The Guardian. www.theguardian.com/world/2019/dec/18/eu-parliament-calls-on-malta-pm-joseph-musca t-to-resign-over-daphne-caruana-galizias-case. Sammut Sassi, M. A. (2021). Flying at the Fall of Dusk. Malta: BDL Books. Sant Cassia, P. (2017). Sixteen Unfortunate Structural ‘Lessons’ from ‘An Assassination Foretold’. In J. A. Debono and C. Muscat (Eds), Invicta: The Life and Work of Daphne Caruana Galizia. Oxford: Pertinent Press. Saurugger, S. (2013). The Europeanization of Interest Groups and Social Movements. In S. Bulmer and C. Lequesne (Eds), The Member States of the European Union (2nd edn). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Scruton, R. (2007). The Palgrave Macmillan Dictionary of Political Thought. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Smismans, S. (Ed.) (2006). Civil Society and Legitimate European Governance. Cheltenham: Edward Elgar. Sutton, P. (1987). Political Aspects. In C. Clarke and T. Payne (Eds), Politics, Security and Development in Small States. London: Allen & Unwin. The Shift News (2020). The Rise of Maltese Society … and the Fall of Muscat. www.theshiftnews.com/ 2020/02/29/the-rise-of-maltese-society-and-the-fall-of-joseph-muscat/. Van Schendelen, R. (2005). Macchiavelli in Brussels: The Art of Lobbying the EU. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press. Vassallo, M. T. (2015). The Europeanization of Interest Groups in Malta and Ireland: A Small State Perspective. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Veenendaal, W. (2020). When Things Get Personal: How Informal and Personalized Politics Produce Regime Stability in Small States. Government and Opposition, 55(3), 341–393. Warrington, E. (1993). Three Years Later: The Record of Implementation. In E. P. Delia and E. L. Zammit (Eds), Economics and Social Studies (Vol. 6). Malta: University of Malta. Warrington, E. (1997). Administering Lilliput: The Higher Civil Service of Malta, Barbados and Fiji. Doctoral dissertation. Oxford: University of Oxford. Werner, T., and Wilson, G. K. (2008). Interest Groups. In D. Caramani (Ed.), Comparative Politics. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Wilson, G. K. (1990). Interest Groups. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Xuereb, P. G. (Ed.) (2009). Malta in the European Union: Five Years on and Looking to the Future. Malta: EDRC and the University of Malta. Xuereb, M. (2020). The Power of Civil Society to Sow Seeds of Change. Times of Malta. https://tim esofmalta.com/articles/view/the-power-of-civil-society-to-sow-seeds-of-change.833476.

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21 Explosion of anger on the streets of Mauritius The overhauling of a political system? Sheila Bunwaree

Introduction This chapter examines the potential that the street protests of 2020/2021, particularly the historic protest of 29 August 2020, hold for the overhauling of an archaic political system, which, since independence, has thrived on dynastic, male-dominated, ethnic and, increasingly, money politics. The first-past-the-post system with its attached ‘best loser’ system, viewed by some as a safeguard for minority representation but decried by others as an institutionalized form of racism, is also seen as aberrant. The frequent skewed election results – a reflection of the ‘winner takes it all’ syndrome – hollows out democracy. Poor governance, with several alleged cases of corruption particularly during the COVID-19 pandemic and the passing of rigid quarantine laws that impacted on human rights, contributed to a cumulation of frustration and anger in the community. The oil spill that occurred in July 2020 after the MV Wakashio, a Japanese-owned, Panamaflagged bulk carrier, ran aground on a coral reef about one mile offshore, was the worst ecological disaster that the small island state has known, and was one of the main triggers of the protest march held on 29 August on the streets of the capital, Port Louis. This was preceded by another manifestation on 11 July, organized mainly by an assembly of forces from trade unions and nongovernmental organizations (NGOs), followed by another important manifestation on 12 September in the small town of Mahébourg, on the south-eastern coast, the very spot where thousands of Mauritians, irrespective of creed, socio-economic background, age, ethnic group and gender, had gathered to make artisanal booms to save their ocean, coast and tourism livelihoods from the oil spill. Joint forces of the opposition parties, with the help of extra-parliamentary groups, also took to the streets of Port Louis in February 2021. People’s angst and anger seemed to outweigh all the positive action taken by the government such as the wage assistance scheme and the distribution of free food packs to the poor and the vulnerable following the imposition of a lockdown to curb the spread of the COVID-19 pandemic. Earlier measures such as a rise in old-age pensions and the introduction of a minimum wage paled into insignificance in the face of a rapidly depreciating rupee and the erosion in citizens’ purchasing power. The latter exacerbated tensions in the country. More recent eruptions of violence in April 2022 testify to this.

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As part of the methodology for this chapter, the author carried out 10 semi-structured interviews with a range of key stakeholders. As a participant observer at the protest marches, the author engaged with some of the protestors and thus obtained some supplementary data. Secondary data from newspapers, reports and journal articles, offering different perspectives on the potential of social movements to challenge the perversion of democratic norms and principles, were also useful. A limitation to this study, however, is that the respondents constitute a convenience sample, thus excluding stakeholders with different profiles and perspectives, and possibly influencing the results. The first part of the chapter starts with a brief literature review, distinguishing between civil society and social movements in a multi-ethnic African small island developing state such as Mauritius, and discusses the relevance and potential of such movements in small democracies. It also builds on the introduction in setting the scene to explain why Mauritians want an overhauling of the political system. The second part discusses the four main protests alluded to earlier, with special attention paid to the larger historic one of 29 August, described by some as a ‘citizens’ awakening’. The chapter draws on the primary data to explain whether the emerging social movements can actually contribute to overhauling the political system. The third part of the chapter draws more specifically on the secondary data to explain the major constraints for transforming the system. The chapter concludes by commenting on the most recent eruptions of violence, as well as making some recommendations for redress.

Literature review and setting the scene With a population of approximately 1.2 million, economic and environmental vulnerability, isolation and a high degree of dependence on the outside world, Mauritius falls into the category of small states. Contrary to some other small states, Mauritius does not have an indigenous population, and therefore has no major claim on land rights/entitlements, which some argue is a factor contributing to the island’s peace and social cohesion (Carroll and Carroll, 2000; Bunwaree, 2002). The land question has, however, become more central in recent years with families, dispossessed of their land during colonial times, deponing in front of the Truth and Justice Commission set up by an Act of Parliament in 2009 (Truth and Justice Commission Report, 2011). Nothing much has happened since. Searching for justice, Clency Harmon, one of the ‘victims’ of land dispossession, even went on a hunger strike, but without any significant result (Bunwaree, 2019). The peopling of Mauritius constitutes a ‘deterritorialization’ of people from across the globe, to borrow a term from Arjun Appadurai (1990). Africans were first brought as slaves by the French colonizers to work on the sugar plantations, followed by indentured labourers from India by the British colonizers. Subsequently, people arrived as traders and merchants from China. This mix constitutes the contemporary melting pot of Mauritius. But has Mauritius, often projected as a beacon of democracy, succeeded in developing a strong Mauritian identity and a sense of belonging to the nation; or do ethnic divides and identities persist? Is it true to think that a ‘polis had to be small to be free of tyranny’ as Dahl and Tufte (cited in Srebnik, 2004, p. 329), put it? The Commonwealth Advisory Group (1997, pp. 19, 114), commenting on a study carried out in some 45 countries, noted that ‘[s]mall states are more likely to be democratic than large states, irrespective of levels of economic development and they exhibit an enviable record of political stability’. ‘Consociational means’ is seen as a mechanism for stability in culturally heterogeneous places (Lijphart, 1999). This has contributed to stability in Mauritius, albeit ‘a la mauricienne’ 303

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(Bowman, 1991). Recent experience, however, paints a rather different picture. Is the resurgence of social movements a symptom of a growing malaise and instability? Is the malaise which is more pronounced among the Creole community (Boswell, 2005) a reflection of the discriminations that the Creoles are subjected to (Affirmative Action Group, 2018)?

Civil society and social movements in Mauritius Civil society and social movements, sometimes used interchangeably, are concepts which originate from the global North, i.e. the rich, powerful regions such as North America, Europe and Australia. Analysing the African scene, Daniel and Neubert (2019, p. 2) note that ‘[t]he debate on social movements and civil society in Africa faces two challenges, first the limitations of these concepts in understanding social phenomena in Africa and second the unreflecting and interchangeable use of these concepts’. While Mauritius is part of Africa and faces certain aspects of these challenges, its history, people, small size and the way its democracy has played out since the country gained its independence in 1968, has made the appreciation of these concepts quite different to the rest of the continent. It is important to remember that the latter does not constitute a homogenous, monolithic block, thus making contexts very significant in interpreting the role of civil society and social movements. Hierarchies in knowledge production and relevance of concepts have been largely questioned by African scholars (e.g. Ndlovu-Gatsheni, 2018), who insists on the pertinence of decolonizing the debate and bringing indigenous knowledge systems to the fore. Yet there have been few shifts, if any at all, in this direction in the small island of Mauritius where scholarship remains heavily dominated by the North. Hence one may ask whether Mauritius has shown any inclination towards new epistemologies, or indeed has attempted to interpret and develop theories derived from examples in the global South (Connell, 2007), or has it simply leaned on Western thought, which has ‘posited itself as the wellspring of universal learning’ (Comaroff and Comaroff, 2012, p. 113)? Interpretations of civil society and social movements by respondents to this study do not seem to be concerned about the nuances highlighted by the above-mentioned scholars. Rather, they reflect a Western influence. Michael Edwards (2005) notes that there are three interlinked concepts that describe civil society. The first goes way back to de Tocqueville (1948) and evolved with the ideas of scholars such as Putnam (2000) who emphasizes self-organization and associational life. The second notion revolves around Antonio Gramsci’s (1971) ideas with an emphasis on a platform to fight for more democracy, respect of rights, greater inclusion and equity. The third is in line with Habermas’s notion of the public space. Daniel and Neubert (2019) in fact make the point as to how the second notion brings us close to a Habermasian perspective. They note: ‘This understanding paved the way for the concept of civil society as a public space’. Edwards (2005) refers to civil society as the ‘good society’ with a strong predisposition to engage in civic life and to support democratic principles. What is generally referred to as civil society in small pluriethnic Mauritius draws largely on the above. Civil society organizations include a broad range of NGOs, faith-based organisations, non-state actors such as trade unions, and other forms of associational life. They usually provide social services and/or work on issues such as the environment, human rights, consumer protection, disability rights, among others. Several sociocultural organizations, predominantly religious and ethnic in nature, are also registered as NGOs. These are often viewed as perpetrators of ethnic politics, engaged in promoting clientelistic and patronage networks, thus eroding the good functioning of democracy. 304

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Can such NGOs help to shape and redefine the democratic agenda when the state starts sliding down the authoritarian route? Can they join forces and become part of what is generally described as social movements in Mauritius? Local activist Ashok Subron notes: Mauritians have the capacity to resist, to say ‘no’ to different forms of exploitation and oppression … The history of Mauritius, since its very beginnings, is one built on dissent, resistance and mobilization. The latter often takes the form of a social movement with different types of actors at different times in our history. Subron’s views resonate with those of the historian Sada Reddi (2020, p. 3), who also explains how ‘protests and protest marches have been an integral part of our country’s march to democracy’. To a large extent, it can be argued that the scholarly debate on social movements started with Gustave Le Bon and Karl Marx during the 19th century. Marx relied on the divisions and structural tensions between the propertied and non-propertied classes to explain the exploitation of the working class and why it was important for the working class to rise and engage in a revolution to put an end to their oppressions. Gustave Le Bon’s theory of mass psychology explains the emergence of movements as resulting from social decay. He also emphasizes the emotional aspects of crowd behaviour and sees special characteristics of crowds such as ‘impulsiveness, irritability, incapacity to reason, the absence of judgement and of the critical spirit’ as impacting on the movement (Le Bon, 1985, p. 12). Jack Bizlall (2021), political analyst and observer of Mauritian society, aligns himself with Le Bon, noting that there was a lot of emotion in the crowds that took to the streets in August 2020 and worries that they may not be sufficiently focused and critical in their approach to bring about change and transformation. In other words, movements can sometimes lack power, making Tarrow’s (2011) notion of ‘Power in Movement’ relevant. It encourages one to ask whether Bizlall (2021) is right, or do these growing movements actually have some kind of potential for transformation? In his work, Power in Movement, Tarrow (2011, p. 24) notes that during political moments in which the status quo is weak, movements of all stripes can leverage their resources to exploit existing political divisions. Conversely during periods where the ruling political class is strong and unified, movement agitation is likely to be ignored or repressed. Is the regime currently holding the reins of power in Mauritius strong? Is it concerned about the popular agitation and the various mobilizations? Judging from the absence of any specific response to address the demands of the protesters as well as the regime’s persistent arrogance, it seems to ignore the movements’ agitation. Commenting on the response of the regime to the protests, Nishan Degnarain (2020) notes, ‘Rather than addressing the issues raised by the protestors in Mauritius, the response by the Jugnauth government has been an unprecedented clamp down on human and civil rights, that has turned a political crisis into a full blown crisis’. Instead of showing empathy and a predisposition to some kind of social dialogue in line with Katzenstein’s (2003) ‘ideology of social partnership’, the Mauritian authorities seem more intent on repression and instilling fear in the population. The social dialogue that Mauritius used to be reputed for is rapidly fading, exacerbating tensions and leading to several manifestations in the country. The response by the police during the most recent manifestations against the hike in the price of food and household gas has been subject to several criticisms (de l’Estrac, 2022). 305

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Why does the system need overhauling? A debt-to-GDP (gross domestic product) ratio exceeding 100 per cent jeopardizing future generations, the many scandals and corruption cases, ongoing economic mismanagement, and the reasons evoked earlier, push people to question the legitimacy of the government. People are exasperated. Trust is broken between the rulers and the ruled (Bunwaree, 2020). This is a government which won only 37 per cent of the vote at the last general election and is struggling to make itself legitimate in the eyes of the people. Protesters rallying in historically large numbers cried out loud ‘B*Li Deor’ (translated as ‘kick him out’) when referring to the prime minister. The erosion of people’s fundamental human rights associated with the passing of the COVID-19 Act and the Quarantine Act in 2020 (Budoo, 2020; Narsinghen, 2020), escalating money politics (Kasenally and Ramtohul, 2020), lack of accountability and transparency (Murday et al, 2021; Bunwaree, 2022), the incompetence of the government and its negligent attitude to the global commons, leading to ecocides such as the Wakashio oil spill, the deepening culture of opacity, and the murder of former MSM agent Soopramanien Kistnen that was described as suicide in the first instance, were some of the major grievances. A report by the V-Dem Institute (2021) describes Mauritius as being in the top 10 autocratizing countries, while a study by Afrobarometer (2020) found that Mauritians were increasingly dissatisfied with the level of democracy in the country. According to the study, 45 per cent of Mauritians said they were ‘not very satisfied’ or ‘not at all satisfied’ with the state of democracy, compared to 27 per cent in 2012. Meanwhile, the Financial Times aptly summarized the situation in a special report on Mauritius entitled ‘Much cherished democracy comes under strain’.

Four protest marches and the most recent eruptions of violence Although the historical beginnings of Mauritius are replete with protests, the latter were almost unknown to Mauritians during the past few decades. Aditya Narayan (2020) argues that Mauritius lost its tradition of working-class and union mobilization, with the last big meeting before the recent protests taking place in 1979, when the sugar industry workers’ union went on strike. This is perhaps because the past few decades had brought relative prosperity for all in small Mauritius, with little necessity for contestation. The economic decline of the past few years, coupled with the persistent concentration of economic power in the hands of a few, as well as the regression of democracy are, however, causing the younger generation to question the system. People even refer to the end of a political cycle, to a ‘citizens’ awakening’. Others, however, are more sceptical, suggesting that this awakening may only be temporary, without any lasting effect.

Protest march of 11 July 2020 The Manifeste des Revendications d’un Peuple en Mouvement published by the Centre for Alternative Research and Studies (CARES) notes that the Kolektif Konversation Solider bringing together a range of representatives of diverse movements, organizations and trade unions such as the All Employees Federation, the General Workers Federation, the Centre for Alternative Research and Studies, Rezistans ek Alternativ, JNP Lindistri Sikriyer, and Fridays for Future, organized the big protest march of 11 July 2020 that denounced two repressive laws: the COVID-19 Act and the Quarantine Act. Protesters carried banners and placards defending their rights as workers, human beings and ordinary citizens. Their priorities and concerns were

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to do with the economic precariousness of the nation, growing unemployment, inflationary pressures, rampant corruption and the absence of meritocracy. In an interview with Ashok Subron, one of the main organizers of the 11 July march, he noted: The COVID-19 Act and the Quarantine Act, as well as the budget for 2020 passed during the sanitary curfew, imposed severe restrictions on the people of Mauritius, eroding a number of workers’ rights as well as some other fundamental rights … Democracy in Mauritius is rapidly dwindling; some kind of dictatorship is being installed. Narendranuth Gopee went a step further, arguing that the street protests were a signal to the government that it must step down. According to Gopee, ‘[d]emocracy is dying … the country needs to breathe’. This resonates with Sada Reddi’s comments (see above), but with the one difference that Reddi (2020, p. 5) talks about the government having a choice: ‘The remarkable achievement of the protesters is a powerful signal to the government … it may choose to respond positively or ignore them’. The government’s choice so far seems tilted towards ignoring the protesters.

The protest march of 29 August 2020 In an interview with France 24, former security expert Bruneau Laurette, who has been described as ‘the voice of the anger of the people’, confirmed that the Wakashio oil spill/ ecological disaster was the main trigger for the protest march held on 29 August 2020, of which he was the principal organizer. Thousands of Mauritians wearing black T-shirts bearing the inscription ‘I love my country, but I am ashamed of my government’ walked peacefully on the streets, flying the national flag. They also carried banners showing diverse slogans and grievances. The latter included the incompetence of the authorities, nepotism, abuse of power, corruption, fledgling institutions, absence of meritocracy, and mismanagement of the economy. The biggest grievance of all was the damage done to the ocean by the oil spill, and the associated loss of biodiversity and livelihoods. Images of dead dolphins washed ashore as well as the polluted beaches, rivers and mangrove swamps made headlines in the international media. Bruneau Laurette also highlighted the emotional bond that Mauritians have with the sea. It shapes the islanders’ identity and is part of their commons and heritage. Damage done to this precious resource creates a deep wound and becomes a scar, which is difficult to heal. The ecological disaster was also attributed to the negligence and slow response of the government. Only on 7 August, more than two weeks after the MV Wakashio was wrecked on the coral reefs of Pointe d’Esny, did the government declare the incident an environmental emergency. Several criticisms were made about the poor implementation of the various maritime legislations that exist. In fact, it was Mauritian civil society, with people from different ethnic profiles, age and gender which gathered as volunteers. Using their indigenous knowledge, they fabricated artisanal booms to prevent the oil from spreading. The solidarity and strong sense of Mauritianism that emerged was impressive. Did this strong sense of solidarity and Mauritianism extend itself to the protest march of 29 August and the subsequent one held on 12 September? Respondents interviewed for the study thought so. But is it capable of bringing the government down? The latter question saw a rather mixed response. Commenting on the trust broken between the people and the government, Laurette believes that this will make the government ‘more unpopular and bring about its downfall’. Laurette sees the movement as an expression of the ‘voice and agency’ of the citizens. 307

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Academic and political observer, Jocelyn Chan Low (2021, p. 9), also speaks of the ‘big citizen’s awakening’. Commenting on Bruneau Laurette himself, he notes that the latter is perceived as the providential man who can assist in removing the mainstream traditional parties, which are seen as the major culprits of the decline in Mauritian democracy and development. Vinaye Ancharaz, a Mauritian economist and consultant, observed, ‘Mauritians are fed up, there is too much incompetence around, the country is sinking, there will be no future for upcoming generations’.1 He also finds it inadmissible and unethical that the government has plundered the central bank reserves, exclaiming: ‘how could they? This is violating all the principles of monetary policy and the independence of the central bank … there is no accountability and transparency … this makes us even more angry – people are saying enough is enough’. Gabriella Batour, a young political scientist, echoes the above: Every single day that goes by, our democracy is drifting further into an autocracy – the PM functions like a monarch, too much power is concentrated in his hands, the earlier this regime is ousted, the better. We need to construct something solid, where women’s voices are heard and can bring their contribution.2 While some respondents saw the protests as an expression of discontent and an avenue for change, others expressed reserve. Sunil Dowarkasing, a former member of Parliament and former strategist at Greenpeace, argued that the protests were not ‘a totally spontaneous, independent’ move on the part of the citizenry: ‘The private sector has been very calculating in its move in supporting the protest as a lever and a means to negotiate with the government to obtain maximum bailout funds in the context of recovery from the pandemic’. His views resonate with those of a longstanding politician who preferred to remain anonymous: The compact between the private sector and the political regime permits the perpetuation of the status quo and without a legal framework for the financing of the political parties, protests or no protests, there will be no change … moreover, such protests will die out very soon, they cannot be sustained in a small place such as Mauritius where everyone knows everyone and people are competing for scarce resources and want to be in the good books of those holding power … and we should not forget that there were very few representatives from the Hindu belt in these protests. Ethnic politics is still alive in Mauritius. His comments echo those of Martin Minogue (1987, p. 133) who argues: ‘Mauritian politics are above all ethnic politics’. The situation has not changed much since the 1980s. In its report to the United Nations’ Committee for the Elimination of Racial Discrimination, the Affirmative Action Group (2018) notes that ‘hierarchical structures along ethnic and caste lines lingers in Mauritius, despite anti prejudice laws’. A female scholar who also preferred to remain anonymous explained that she chose not to participate in the protest march since anyone who goes overtly against the government is bound to suffer from reprisals … everyone is more or less known to each other in a small place such as ours, especially when one occupies a position of significance, be it in academia, the public sector or 308

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politics … I do not want any trouble for me or my family … Moreover, these protests will not lead anywhere. Thinking further as to why these protest marches will go nowhere, Ananda Rajoo, a former mayor and political communications expert, notes that when protests are not focused, not issue based, they do not get very far … there is some kind of a dilution effect … Being a small state, interactions between people from across parties, family and friends overlap and can constitute obstacles for changing a system. More importantly, Rajoo speaks of a ‘dilution effect’ that is largely attributable to the ‘lack of protestors’ focus’ and an ‘absence of rage’. Rajoo also suggests that there is no consistency in the interests that the protestors purport to represent, a point made by other commentators.

The protest march of 12 September 2020 The protest march of 12 September 2020 took place in the small town of Mahébourg. Organized by Konversation Solider and Lasamble Solider of Mahébourg itself, the protest acted as a follow-up to the previous ones, thereby showing continued mobilization. It was also said to be ‘a call for a new Mauritius, a new vision’. In short, it was reinforcing the demands made in the earlier manifestations. The protesters in Mahébourg wanted a complete overhaul of the system with specific emphasis on environmental protection and democratic politics. They regarded the Wakashio oil spill as a kind of ‘criminal negligence’. The threat to their security, and the inaction of the authorities, was hugely decried. The protesters made a broad range of demands, such as making public the reports and studies carried out on the toxicity of the lagoon, the establishment of cooperatives for an alternative tourism model, the introduction of new methods of fishing, and the development of renewable energy to ensure ecological protection (CARES, 2021). The demands centred around a new development model with emphasis on participatory democracy.

The protest march of 13 February 2021 After seeing the numerous protests during 2020 and the growing frustration of the population, as well as the way in which parliament functioned, with several unjustified expulsions of parliamentarians by the Speaker (a political nominee), the opposition political parties also called for street protests to be held on 13 February 2021. Citizens, inclusive of partisans from the opposition political parties, heeded the latter’s call to join the protest march and to challenge those holding the reins of power. One protestor I interviewed said: ‘I am here because I want to see a change. If I stay at home, there will be no change’. A number of responses echoed this sentiment, implying that there was an increased consciousness among the citizens that they have to engage in order to gain greater accountability and transparency. A country report published by the BTI in 2022 commenting on these protests noted that ‘[g]ood governance is at the heart of the protest movements. Participation in the February 13 public demonstration in the streets of Port Louis clamoured for the resignation of the PM and his government, some using very disparaging slogans’. The government’s incompetence, the culture of opacity, the lack of transparency and accountability, the decline of democracy, and the wastage of public funds were all denounced. 309

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On the other hand, some of the protestors were swift to criticize the mainstream opposition parties, who were also the main organizers of this particular march. They argued that the mainstream opposition parties appear to be part of a ‘mafioso democracy’. One protestor said: we are in dire straits, not only because of the current regime but also because of all these mainstream opposition parties. Why did they not legislate for a Financing of the Political Parties Act when they were in power, and for electoral reform? They are all the same: we want to get rid of these mainstream parties. The above resonates with what some protestors told Africanews (2021). The mainstream opposition parties are seen as being responsible for the reproduction of the same political elite and what some called a ‘rotten system’. The Kolektif Konversation Solider which organized the protest marches of 11 July and 12 September 2020, did not agree to participate officially as an organization. Among the arguments advanced was the fact that the mainstream parties represent just a possible change of people, that is an alternate government, but not true alternative politics.

Challenges to overhauling the system Protests such as the ‘Arab Spring’ are often seen as harbingers of change, with promises of an alternative vision of society, but at times they are viewed sceptically. The academic Nandini Bhautoo belongs to the sceptic camp. She notes: Protesters have no power to budge regimes. If protests were effective we would see changes happening for the better in Hong Kong, France and the US … We are in a society where deep malaise has existed for a long time, where little has been done to alleviate the condition of the working class and the lower middle class … There is a lot to be done and the anger of civil society should be redirected in more concrete actions.3 This scepticism is reinforced by Aditya Narayan (2020) who sees Mauritian civil society as too fractured and therefore killing the potential for change mobilization. Furthermore, new movements have to confront traditional political parties which have forged some degree of consensus among themselves in terms of ideology, with all of them embracing the same neoliberal model, thereby causing further inequality and poverty. According to Corbett and Veenendaal (2019, p. 7), the absence of ideological differences should theoretically breed consensus but in fact small state politics is often characterised by extreme polarisation. Political competition between personalities is often fiercely antagonistic precisely because they have few ideological differences, and therefore politicians have to focus on personal disagreements to differentiate themselves. In combination with the limited role of parties, this also potentially creates political instability, as political alliances are regularly broken … Pluralism is uncomfortable and dissent is often stifled while dependent constituents can be easily bought off. While the analysis of Corbett and Veenendaal (2019) is relevant to small multi-ethnic Mauritius, the past few years, particularly with the multiplicity of crises, namely the COVID-19 crisis, the climate change crisis, the food crisis and the economic crisis, that has resulted in the intensification of the people’s angst and anger – are somehow pushing politicians, particularly 310

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those from the opposition parties, to rethink the system. Some of them have aligned themselves to the need for a rupture and an alternative vision. Encouraged by the younger generations, they also understand the urgency of revamping and overhauling the entire system. To what extent would this be actually possible? A persistently weak and fractured civil society, the perpetuation of both money politics and ethnic politics, and the skewed electoral system, remain major obstacles. Influential members of civil society often get co-opted by the state and therefore weaken the possibility of NGOs morphing into social movements to challenge the status quo. Ethnic politics facilitated particularly by certain sociocultural groups create important divides particularly at election time. A democracy that lacks a plurality of voices makes it easier to go down the authoritarian route. Sada Reddi (2020), however, believes that ‘a sustained sensitisation by the collectif could certainly usher in a new political culture and bring hope to the country’. Ashok Subron also shows an optimistic streak. He notes that those thinking that this movement is temporary and ephemeral are wrong. Mauritian citizenry is on the move … the system needs revamping … more manifestations are inevitable … oppressive neoliberal systems with a political arrangement like ours has shown their limits. Subsequent demonstrations took place in mid-April 2022 in protest against increases in the price of food, household gas and petrol in certain parts of the island state and resulted in outbreaks of violence, leading the police to open fire and use tear gas to disperse the crowds. Several analysts and commentators believe that, unless the government acts rapidly to alleviate the suffering of the people, the situation might degenerate, thus threatening peace and stability. Whether protests can be a lynchpin for transformation is a question that demands further study. Some Mauritians can see the need for change but hesitate to participate in protests or demonstrations because fear has been instilled in them. They know that the small size of the country will make it easy for the authorities to identify them, thus incurring the risk of reprisals. The country badly needs new political blood and ethical governance. There is an urgent need for greater political literacy and socialization to empower citizens to engage more deeply in political life and thereby assist in bringing about the required changes.

Notes 1 Interviewed on 18 November 2021. 2 Interviewed on 18 November 2021. 3 Interview in Mauritius Times on 2 July 2020.

References Affirmative Action Group (2018). Report Submitted to the United Nations Committee for the Elimination of Racial Discrimination. Rose Hill: Affirmative Action Group. Africanews (2021). Mauritians Call on the Government to Resign in Mass Protest. Africanews, 3 February. www.africanews.com/2021/02/13/mauritians-call-on-the-government-to-resign-in-mass-protest/. Afrobarometer (2020). Afrobarometer Round 8 Survey in Mauritius in 2020. https://afrobarometer.org/p ublications/summary-results-afrobarometer-round-8-survey-mauritius-2020. Appadurai, A. (1990). Disjuncture and Difference in the Global Cultural Economy: Theory, Culture & Society. London: SAGE, pp. 208–295. Bizlall. J. (2021). Activism: You Have to Say it and Say It Again. Mauritius Times, 23 March. 311

Sheila Bunwaree Boswell, R. (2005). Unravelling the Malaise Creole: Hybridity and Marginalization in Mauritius. Global Studies in Culture and Power, 12(2). Bowman, L. W. (1991). Mauritius: Democracy and Development in the Indian Ocean. Boulder, CO. Westview Press. BTI Report (2022). Mauritius Country Report, pp. 1–41. http://www.bti-project.org. Budoo, A. (2020) Rescuing Human Rights in Mauritius during the COVID-19 Tsunami. Verfassungs blog. https://verfassungsblog.de/rescuing-human-rights-in-mauritius-during-the-covid-19-tsunami/. Bunwaree, S. (2002). Economics, Conflicts and Interculturality in a small Island State: The Case of Mauritius. Bordeaux: Polis. Bunwaree, S. (2019). Land Justice in an Unjust Society: Clency Harmon’s Hunger Strike. Le Mauricien, 9 April. www.lemauricien.com/le-mauricien/land-justice-in-an-unjust-society-clency-harmons-hungerstrike/271798/. Bunwaree, S. (2020). Covid-19: Recalibrating Perspectives for our Common Humanity. The Mauritius Times, 29 March. Bunwaree, S. (2022). SDGs and Sustainability in Mauritius, COVID-19: Opportunity or Constraint?Vacoas: Edition le Printemps. CARES (2021). Manifeste des Revendications d’un Peuple en Mouvement. Moka: Centre for Alternative Research and Studies. Carroll, T., and Carroll, B. W. (2000). Accommodating Ethnic Diversity in a Modernized Democratic State: Theory and Practice in the Case of Mauritius. Ethnic and Racial Studies, 23(1). Chan Low, J. (2020). Interview. The Mauritius Times, 28 August. Chan Low, J. (2021). Mourning a Historical Trauma Starts with Discussing the Subject Openly and Addressing the Contemporary Problems It Might Have Led To. L’Express, 22 April. Comaroff, J., and Comaroff, J. L. (2012). Theory from the South: Or, How Euro-America Is Evolving Towards Africa. Anthropological Forum, 22(2), 113–131. Commonwealth Advisory Group (1997). A Future for Small States: Overcoming Vulnerability. London: Commonwealth Secretariat, pp. 19–114. Connell, R. (2007). Southern Theory. Cambridge: Polity. Corbett, J., and Veenendaal, W. (2019). Why Are Small States Beautiful? Political Insights, 10(1), 1–8. Dahl, R. A., and Tufte, E. R. (1973). Size and Democracy. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Daniel, A., and Neubert, D. (2019). Civil Society and Civil Movements: Conceptual Insights and Challenges in African Contexts. Critical African Studies, 11 (2), 1–18. De l’Estrac, J. (2022). We Must Introduce a Cost of Living Allowance. DefiMedia, 24 April. De Tocqueville, A. (1948). Democracy in America. New York: Knopf. Degnarain, N. (2020). Protest Continues in Mauritius Five Month After Oil Spill. Forbes, 30 December. www.forbes.com/sites/nishandegnarain/2021/12/30/protests-continue-in-mauritius-five-months-after -oil-spill/?sh=4b88cbff42b9. Degnarain, N. (2021). Satellites Make New Discovery About Mauritius Oil Spill Ship Wakashio. Forbes, 22 January. www.forbes.com/sites/nishandegnarain/2021/01/22/satellites-make-new-discovery-a bout-mauritius-oil-spill-ship-wakashio/?sh=36e38d4be163. Edwards, M. (2005). Civil Society. Encyclopedia of Informal Education. http://infed.org/mobi/civil-society/. Edwards, M. (2009). Civil Society (2nd edn). Cambridge: Polity Press. Pilling, D. (2022). Mauritians’ Cherished Democracy Comes Under Strain. Financial Times, 31 March. Gramsci, A. (1971). Selections from the Prison Notebooks of Antonio Gramsci. New York: International Publishers. Habermas, J. (1991). The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere: An Inquiry into a Category of Bourgeois Society. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Kasenally, R., and Ramtohul, R. (2020). The Cost of Parliamentary Politics in Mauritius. Westminister Foundation. https://westminsterfoundation.org.uk/. Katzenstein, P. J. (2003). Small States and Small States Revised. New Political Economy, 8(1). Le Bon, G. (1895). The Crowd: A Study of the Popular Mind. International Relations and Security Networks. Zurich:ETH. Lijphart, A. (1999). Patterns of Democracy: Government Forms and Performance in Thirty-Six Countries (2nd edn). New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Minogue, M. (1987). Politics, Security and Development in Small States. London: Allen and Unwin. Murday, L., Reddi, S. J., and Sookrajowa, S. S. (2021). Challenges of Governance During COVID-19 Pandemic: The Case Study of Mauritius. Politikon, 48(2), 226–241.

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Narayan, A. (2020). The Politics of Truth is Essential All Along the Line. Mauritius Times, 25 August. Ndlovu-Gatsheni, S. (2018). Epistemic Freedom in Africa: Deprovincialization and Decolonization. London: Routledge. Putnam, R. D. (2000). Bowling Alone. The Collapse and Revival of the American Community. New York: Simon & Schuster. Reddi, S. (2020) Protest: A New Beginning. Mauritius Times, 14 July. Simmons, A. D. (1982). Modern Mauritius: The Politics of Decolonization. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Srebrnik, P. (2004). Small Island Nation and Democratic Values. Charlottetown:University of Prince Edward Island, pp. 329–340. Tarrow. S. (2011). Power in Movement: Social Movements and Contentious Politics (3rd edn). New York: Cambridge University Press. Truth and Justice Commission (2011). Volume 1: Report of the Truth and Justice Commission. Port Louis: Truth and Justice Commission. V-Dem Institute (2021). Autocratization Turns Viral: Democracy Report 2021. Gothenburg: University of Gothenburg.

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22 Significant regional social movements in Oceania Vijay Naidu and Claire Slatter

Introduction Oceania is a vast region covering 33 million sq km of ocean. The confetti-like scatterings of land in the largest body of water on the planet, the Pacific Ocean, constituting what Hau’ofa (1993, p. 8) described as ‘a sea of islands’, have been settled from 4,000 years ago.1 The populations of the 14 independent states and eight ‘territories’ that constitute this region are primarily indigenous peoples who share a common heritage and early migratory and settlement history through skilful ocean voyaging using traditional navigational knowledge. As a consequence of colonial occupation and settlement as well as colonially organized forced labour schemes, Oceania’s population today is ethnically diverse. Most Pacific island countries (PICs) today are on an urbanizing trend and are on the front line of climate change impacts, especially sea level rise and severe climatic events. For atoll states, climate change poses an existential threat and Pacific small island developing states (PSIDS)2 have been leaders in the global effort to reduce carbon emissions, slow global warming and save the planet. This chapter focuses on three notable regional social movements spawned by civil society organizations in Oceania to illustrate, first, the significant roles that have been (and continue to be) played by civil society initiated social movements to influence governance in Oceanic states; second, the events that have formed part of their action repertoire; and third, the shared values and ideology underlying these movements’ struggles. The chapter is based on the authors’ knowledge gleaned from their respective involvement over many years with civil society organizations (CSOs) and social movements in the region, and select referencing of relevant academic papers. Former and current officials of the CSOs were consulted to verify activities and dates of events. We begin by highlighting the specific characteristics of CSOs and social movements in Oceania, and the rationale behind the formation of regional networks and movements. The chapter then focuses, in turn, on the Nuclear Free and Independent Pacific (NFIP) movement which began in 1975, the Pacific movement against violence against women that built on the formation of national women’s crisis centres beginning in Fiji in 1984, and the movement against deep-sea mining (DSM) which began with strong opposition to DSM by citizen groups in Papua New Guinea (PNG) in 2011. Besides their genesis, accounts of each movement’s

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objectives, strategies, networking and outreach activities, challenges and achievements are provided. The conclusion of the chapter highlights significant aspects of these movements and the lessons learnt from their struggles.

Characteristics of civil society and social movements in Pacific island countries Civil society, or non-governmental organizations (NGOs) in the generally conservative, small states of Oceania, have historically been apolitical, service-providing charities, sometimes formed by religious organizations and dating back to colonial times. Advocacy NGOs which emerged prominently in the region from the 1990s represented a new breed of mostly politically progressive citizen groups focused on addressing issues of public concern including violence against women and women’s rights or human rights more generally; political, constitutional, governance and rule of law concerns; and broader development, environment and social justice issues. Some of these advocacy NGOs3 use the opportunities afforded by the United Nations (UN) Human Rights Council’s Treaty Bodies to submit shadow reports during their states’ review to highlight non-compliance with international human rights conventions they have ratified. Advocacy NGOs broke away from the mould of compliant, stateapproved, and often government-funded, charities to seek policy changes and/or law reform and became ‘watchdogs’ on governments, demanding public accountability. Better resourced advocacy groups have tended to be well organized, have research and communications capacity, use public media effectively in their advocacy efforts and hold public meetings to mobilize support. Their open criticism of government is often met with distrust or, worse, disparagement, including being labelled ‘political’ or foreign-influenced and funded, or questioned about their representation and legitimacy (Slatter, 2006; George, 2012). Advocacy organizations have a high profile in the region today. They are generally legally registered, professionalized organizations under strong leadership, and many of them enjoy the support of established donors which recognize the work they do as entirely legitimate. However, because all NGOs or citizen groups are registered under outdated colonial laws which define them as charities with specified objectives that exclude advocacy, they are at risk of being de-registered. The de-registration of the Citizens Constitutional Forum (CCF) of Fiji in June 2001 for breaching the Charitable Trusts Act through its ‘political’ challenge in the high court of the legality of the post-coup interim government of Laisenia Qarase ‘served as a stern lesson to NGOs not to take their watchdog role too far’ (Slatter, 2006, p. 34). Yet, as George (2012, p. 155) records, de-registration did not prevent CCF from continuing to criticize the interim government, nor did it dissuade donors from continuing to support it. Following CCF’s deregistration, the Pacific Concerns Resource Centre (PCRC) commissioned the Institute for Justice and Applied Legal Studies at the University of the South Pacific (USP) to undertake a review of legislative and regulatory frameworks under which CSOs register in the region (Slatter, 2006). Reforming the outdated laws under which CSOs in countries of the region register to qualify for receiving grants has been advocated for many years. Thus far, however, the colonial laws remain in place.4 The strongest social movements in Oceania have been regional. This may be explained by the interconnected history, distinct identity and shared values of Oceanic people, and their common interest in safeguarding their way of life which is dependent on the land and the sea. Such ideas and values are often invoked by activists who work on regional issues. It also is explainable by the small size of PICs – organizing regionally has much more of an impact. According to Slatter and Underhill Sem (2009, p. 195), one of the hallmarks of 315

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intergovernmental regionalism has been ‘its effectiveness in politically organizing Pacific Island states to collectively resist powerful outside interests that pose threats to Pacific Island interests.’5 Regional solidarity among peoples’ movements, they say, ‘has as long a history in the Pacific as intergovernmental regionalism’. The movements referred to include movements for political independence or sovereignty, workers’ movements, women’s rights movements, environmental movements including the movement against nuclear testing, nuclear bases, and the transhipment and/or dumping of nuclear waste. Climate change and sea-level rise impacts have seen the emergence of a number of new region-wide movements such as the Pacific Climate Warriors and the Pacific Island Climate Action Network. In Fiji there has also been a forceful indigenous rights movement, and a sustained democracy movement that has organized to oppose military coups. Social movements in the region have ‘not only exerted pressure on independent Pacific island governments to support their various struggles in defence of Pacific interests, they have also often challenged governments and political elites ‘arrogating to themselves the exclusive right to speak for the region’ (Slatter and Underhill Sem, 2009, p. 195). At the same time, there has often been convergence in the political solidarity among PICs and that among people in social movements, ‘especially in matters involving external political interests detrimental to Pacific Island ones’ (Slatter and Underhill Sem, 2009, p. 195). All three social movements discussed in this chapter are regional movements, initiated by citizens of Oceanic states. Although they have distinct specific objectives there are strong resonances, not least in the similarity of each being focused on a specific goal of ending injustice or a serious threat to the common interests, rights and wellbeing of present and future generations of Oceanic people, and also in their often-overlapping support bases. In all three regional social movements we discuss, Fiji-based activists with international connections have played pivotal roles in organizing and strategizing, if not leading, the movements. All three movements have used regional conferencing as an organizing tool, and have targeted both regional institutions and events, as well as international spaces in their advocacy efforts. The iconic NFIP movement, about which much has been written (Fry, 1985; Naidu, 1988; Hamel-Green, 2015; Weir, 2018), had its roots in both widespread resistance across the region to French nuclear weapons testing at Moruroa and Fangataufa atolls in French Polynesia and US nuclear tests in the US Trust Territory of the Pacific Islands (specifically the Marshall Islands) on the one hand; and in anti-colonial movements in Oceania and their equivalents in settler states on the other. Although the NFIP movement ceased to exist after the dis-establishment in 2011 of its secretariat, the PCRC, the movement is presently in the process of being revived, with a strong focus on both nuclear justice and political independence for the remaining colonies in Oceania. The second movement, the regional Pacific Women’s Network Against Violence Against Women (PWNAVAW), has its origins in longstanding efforts by dedicated women’s groups in countries of the region to end violence against women. It is informed by both feminist ideas about gender equality and women’s rights, and a critique of colonialism and missionization for introducing gender discriminatory laws and ideologies. The third is a civil society initiated regional social movement against DSM that has been triggered by growing alarm over the serious risks to the livelihoods, health and wellbeing and way of life of the people of Oceania posed by plans to mine the deep seabed in an area of the Pacific Ocean under the jurisdiction of the International Seabed Authority (ISA). The movement is critical of the conflicting mandates of ISA as the regulatory body over seabed activities in international waters, and alarmed by the involvement of a handful of Oceanic member states of ISA which are sponsoring mining companies in the expectation of amassing great wealth from this experimental mining industry. 316

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The Nuclear Free and Independent Pacific Movement The NFIP movement emerged from a regional conference held at the USP’s Laucala Campus in Fiji in 1975. Organized by the ATOM (Against Testing on Moruroa) Committee, the conference brought together diverse organizations and groups from within and outside of Oceania, including peace and disarmament groups from New Zealand, Australia and Japan, anti-nuclear and political independence movement activists from New Hebrides (now Vanuatu), French Polynesia, New Caledonia and the US Trust Territories of the Northern Pacific (subsequently the Republics of Palau and the Marshall Islands, the Federated States of Micronesia and the Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands), and indigenous sovereignty and land rights movement activists from New Zealand, Australia and Hawaii, as well as church leaders and leaders of trade unions. The ATOM Committee was formed in Suva, Fiji, a few years after France began atmospheric tests on Moruroa, by women of the YWCA, USP biologists Graham Baines and Suliana Siwatibau and a few other USP academics and staff, including USP chaplain Rev. Akuila Yabaki, Fiji-based Americans, Betty and Walter Johnson, national and regional church leaders, trade unionists, and several students at the USP (Naidu, 1988, 1991). The initial focus of the conference was ending French nuclear testing. France had carried out 17 nuclear tests in Algeria, before losing a war of independence by Algerians in 1962. Relocating the nuclear testing programme to its South Pacific colony of French Polynesia, France began atmospheric testing of nuclear weapons at Moruroa atoll in 1966 and carried out 41 such tests until 1974. In 1973, Australia and New Zealand instituted proceedings against France at the International Court of Justice (ICJ) to end its nuclear weapons testing in the South Pacific region. The ICJ case was supported by Fiji. Following announcements by France that it would no longer conduct atmospheric nuclear weapons after the completion of its 1974 series, the ICJ found in December 1974 that it was ‘not called upon to give any decision’ on the case since ‘the objective of Australia and New Zealand had been achieved’.6 French nuclear tests did not end in 1974, however, as France switched to testing nuclear weapons underground at Fangataufa atoll (Siwatibau and Williams, 1982). The underground testing programme continued until 1996, in the face of growing opposition in the region. Altogether, 193 nuclear tests were conducted over a 30-year period, exposing ‘local people, site workers and French soldiers to high levels of radiation’.7 After hearing the testimonies of participants from both French Polynesia and the US Trust Territory in the Pacific Islands, where the US military had been testing nuclear weapons at Bikini and Enewetak atolls, what became clear to participants at the 1975 conference in Suva was the realization that only by ending colonialism in Oceania could nuclear testing be ended. Hence the formation of a movement for both a nuclear free and independent Pacific. Subsequent NFIP conferences were held in Ponape in 1978, in Hawaii in 1980, in Vanuatu in 1983, in Suva in 1986, in Manila in 1987, in Auckland in 1990, in Suva in 1996, in Tahiti in 1999, and in Tonga in 2003. The communiqués from each of the conferences strongly affirmed the solidarity among Pacific people, their stewardship of terrestrial and marine resources, support for the rights and sovereignty of indigenous people, and renewed the movement’s commitment to working for the freedom and political independence of all Pacific countries extending from the Moluccas in the west to Rapanui (Easter Island) in the east. The conference in Vanuatu discussed and adopted the People’s Charter for a Nuclear Free and Independent Pacific, a seminal covenant of the movement. The conference in Tonga declared a Decade for the Protection of the Ocean and pledged a commitment to lobby Pacific nations and the UN to recognize the Decade of the Oceans.

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Following the 1975 conference, as opposition to the French nuclear tests and nuclear colonialism grew, there were two strands to the NFIP movement: opposition to the tests advocated by peace organizations based in Australia, Canada, New Zealand and the United States on the one hand, and advocates for ending colonialism represented by indigenous rights and sovereignty groups. There was cooperation and collaboration but also disagreement and tension between them. The representatives of first nation sovereignty movements in Hawaii and New Zealand were especially forceful advocates against colonialism and the inequality and injustice experienced by indigenous peoples in their countries. They were supported by first nation representatives of Australia, Hawaii/United States and Canada. Following the conference, a follow-up committee based in Suva produced a newsletter entitled Povai; a more regular news bulletin was subsequently produced in Sydney by volunteer Ellen Whelan. A secretariat for the movement, the PCRC, was formally established in Honolulu in 1980. The PCRC was relocated to Auckland in 1986, and then to Suva in 1993. The PCRC attained consultative status with the UN Economic and Social Council from 1998 and with the Pacific Islands Forum from 2008. Besides advocacy and networking, the PCRC acted as a clearing house for information received from NFIP affiliates. It popularized the slogan: ‘If it is safe, dump it in Tokyo, test it in Paris, and store it in Washington, but keep our Pacific nuclear free’. The PCRC published the monthly Pacific News Bulletin, issued statements on decolonization and the nuclear tests, and commemorated NFIP Day (or Bikini Day) on 1 March each year to mark the US testing of the deadly hydrogen bomb at Bikini atoll on that day in 1954.8 NFIP activists continued to organize protests against the French nuclear tests in PICs and Pacific Rim countries as France ignored the pleas to end the tests (Drozdiak, 1995). Increasingly, protesters sailed into the vicinity of the test sites to reinforce their opposition. In response, ‘France reacted strongly, sending commandos to board and seize protest ships’.9 In 1973, two New Zealand naval vessels joined the flotilla of boats that sailed to Moruroa.10 In 1985, as Greenpeace’s flagship protest vessel, the Rainbow Warrior, which had helped to evacuate Marshall Islanders from Rongelap atoll to Mejato earlier that year, prepared to lead a flotilla of yachts to Moruroa in early July, French secret service agents bombed the boat in Auckland, killing Greenpeace photographer Fernando Pereira (Robie, 2016). This atrocious act of French state terrorism perpetrated inside a peaceful country, and causing the death of an anti-nuclear activist, caused outrage in New Zealand and throughout the activist world, reinforcing the determination to keep protesting to end the tests. In August 1985, member states of the apex regional political organization, the South Pacific Forum (now the Pacific Islands Forum), adopted the South Pacific Nuclear Free Zone Treaty (commonly known as the Rarotonga Treaty) in the Cook Islands. This treaty reflected in some ways the wishes of NFIP activists. It sought to ‘outlaw testing, stationing, storage, acquisition, and deployment of nuclear weapons in the South Pacific’ (Fry, 1985). However, it did not prohibit the movement of nuclear-armed ships and aircrafts in the region. It was left to the countries themselves to decide whether or not they would allow visits by such vessels and aircraft. New Zealand had banned nuclear-armed ships from visiting its ports.11 France disregarded the Rarotonga Treaty and continued to conduct underground nuclear tests; more than 150 tests were carried out until a moratorium was declared. In 1995, the moratorium was lifted by president Jacques Chirac so France could try out a new warhead for submarines, a decision that was deplored by Australia, New Zealand, Japan, other Pacific countries and many of France’s European allies. In French Polynesia, the decision angered many 318

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Tahitians, and riots in the capital, Papeete, caused millions of dollars’ worth of damage and saw the airport terminal burned down. Mr Chirac ended nuclear testing in the Pacific in 1996.12 The termination of nuclear weapons testing in French Polynesia was celebrated by the NFIP movement; however, the struggle to uphold the nuclear-free stance of Palau, one of the former US Micronesian Trust Territory countries, was defeated following pressure from the United States which insisted on numerous plebiscites on its nuclear-free Constitution. In 1979, Palau had adopted the world’s first nuclear-free Constitution. This offended the United States which saw its strategic interests as more important than the wishes of 92 per cent of Palauans who voted for their Constitution. Between 1980 and 1987, the United States applied all sorts of pressure on the Palauans, including eight plebiscites and withholding aid and the validation of the ‘compact of free association’. Palau also experienced unprecedented divisions, threats of violence and violence between those who wanted to change the nuclear-free Constitution and those who did not. In June 1985, the island state’s first elected President, Haruo Remelik, was assassinated (Smith, 1997).13 The division within the NFIP movement came to a head at the NFIP conference in Manila in 1987, following the first military coup in Fiji when PCRC staff invited indigenous Fijian coup supporters to give ‘their side of the story’, much to the chagrin of the Fiji Anti-Nuclear Group which opposed the coup – some of its members had been hounded, detained and tortured by the military. A number of indigenous rights and sovereignty activists were persuaded by the argument that the coup sought to protect and promote indigenous Fijian rights, land and sovereignty. However, other indigenous groups, including Kanak representatives, and peace activists condemned the military overthrow of Fiji’s democratically elected government. Until 2011, albeit hobbled by limited funding, the PCRC continued to function as the NFIP secretariat reporting on decolonization-related activism and the long-term intergenerational effects of nuclear radiation that site workers, soldiers and communities were exposed to as a result of American tests in the Marshall Islands and French tests in French Polynesia. The British tests on Christmas Island had exposed Kiribati people and military personnel, including Fijian soldiers, who were added to the list of people who suffered from various cancers such as thyroid cancer and leukaemia (McLellan, 2017). Decolonization for New Caledonia and French Polynesia, as well as freedom for West Papua following Indonesia’s military occupation and control of the former Dutch territory, remained concerns for the NFIP movement. However, funding for the PCRC which was nearly always limited for the agenda of the NFIP movement became even more difficult to raise as donor priorities changed. With the closure of the centre in 2011, Pacific-wide networking and information sharing ceased and the drive to end colonialism and regional advocacy for nuclear justice in French Polynesia and the Marshall Islands petered out. At the country level, however, campaigns for social and environmental justice continued.14 The struggle for self-determination and independence in New Caledonia and French Polynesia as well as in West Papua continued within these colonial territories. Periodic condemnation of atrocities including gross human rights violations and killings occurred Pacific-wide, but the broader movement itself had waned. Since 2020, there has been a Pacific-wide interest in reaching out to activists at the local level in New Caledonia, French Polynesia and West Papua. This was stimulated by the final referendum on political status in New Caledonia, the re-inscription of French Polynesia (in 2013) on the UN Decolonization Committee list, and the publication of the book, Toxique: The Aftermath of French Nuclear Testing in the South Pacific (Philippe and Statius, 2021). Based on 319

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a meticulous reading of declassified French government documents and data on the nuclear testing programme, the book assembled evidence to show that 110,000 people had been exposed to radioactive fallout from a single nuclear test conducted in 1974. France’s continued denial that its nuclear tests were harmful, together with its insistence on holding the final referendum on the political future of New Caledonia in December 2021 amid an escalation in the number of confirmed cases of COVID-19 and fatalities resulting from the virus among New Caledonians, and heightened awareness across the region of incidents of human rights violations and killings in West Papua, have renewed regional support for decolonization struggles in all three territories. Activism in the Marshall Islands for nuclear justice for the serious long-term harm to people and their environment caused by nuclear radiation is ongoing. Earlier campaigns led by Darlene Keju Johnson, herself a victim of nuclear radiation in the 1980s, and others were taken up from 2013 by Kathy Jetnil Kijiner, a poet, scholar and activist. Her youth organization, JoJikum, commemorates 1 March each year which is the anniversary of the 1954 US testing of ‘Bravo’, a 15-megaton bomb, 1,000 times more powerful than the devastating Hiroshima bomb, at Bikini atoll. Since 2017, following Kijiner, Marshall Islands students at USP formed MISA4thePacific (Marshall Islands Students Association for the Pacific), and have engaged in educating other students and staff about the intergenerational effects of nuclear radiation on the Marshallese. 1 March is commemorated on USP’s Laucala Campus as ‘Nuclear Victims Remembrance Day’ with speeches about the tests and their long-term effects as well as a peaceful march with banners and placards. MISA4thePacific has also raised awareness about the Runit Dome in the Marshall Islands where thousands of tons of radioactive soil and debris were bulldozed into a bomb crater and covered with a concrete dome. Owing to rising sea levels, radioactive materials are being leached out into the ocean through cracks in the dome. As a result of renewed awareness and activism, a cohort of younger activists has also become engrossed in issues of social and environmental justice in PICs. ‘Youngsolwara’, spawned by the Pacific Network on Globalisation (PANG), is one such group, which is mobilizing across Oceania. Key to this revival has been the roles played by the Pacific Council of Churches (PCC) which has played its part in the NFIP and decolonization movements, and the PANG which has assumed leadership in engaging and mentoring a new generation of regional activists as well as providing institutional and networking support. In addition, and of significance, are the possibilities of holding virtual consultations, meetings and webinars via internet-based communications platforms such as Zoom. To conclude, activists and groups that emerged to oppose nuclear testing and colonialism in the Pacific region from 1975 formed a dynamic and effective regional political movement for a nuclear-free and independent Pacific that remained active for 36 years. This was no mean feat for a region of widely dispersed small island states. The ability of its secretariat to convene nine regional conferences, produce a regular newsletter sharing updates on national struggles as well as more substantive reports, make submissions to the UN and retain donor support for more than three decades is remarkable. Donor support was important especially for the conferences, and the maintenance of the NFIP secretariat, namely the PCRC. Among the achievements that can be claimed by the NFIP movement apart from the networking and relationship building over the vast Pacific Ocean and overcoming the challenges of communication between Anglophone and Francophone activists, were first, bringing an end to nuclear weapons testing in the Pacific; second, inspiring the South Pacific Nuclear Free Zone Treaty; and third, successfully campaigning for the re-inscription of New Caledonia and French Polynesia on the UN Decolonization Committee list. For the rejuvenating NFIP 320

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movement, the internet offers new possibilities for virtually re-building and maintaining a regional movement of activists for political independence and nuclear justice.

The Movement Against Violence Against Women The Pacific Women’s Network Against Violence Against Women (PWNAVAW) was established in 1992, following the first Pacific Regional Workshop on Violence Against Women. Its origins lie in the persistence of a culture of male violence against women across Oceania despite significant changes in law and policy achieved through the advocacy efforts of dedicated national women’s organizations, and particularly women’s crisis centres, in several countries. With the exception of a few matriarchal cultures, male dominance is prevalent throughout Oceania and the threat and/or use of violence is a common means of maintaining this gender order. Missionization and colonialism had normalized gender inequality and made women economically dependent on men by promoting the nuclear family and relegating domestic duties and care responsibilities to women while drawing men into paid wage labour. This was compounded by unequal rights in colonial laws and the exclusion of women from decision making in the public domain. In the post-colonial period, and especially after International Women’s Year in 1975, the first UN conference and parallel NGO forum on women held in Mexico that year, which several Pacific states and women’s NGOs attended, and the first Pacific women’s conference organized by Fiji feminists held later the same year (see Griffen, 1976), understanding of the unequal status of women and ideas about challenging this began to percolate in the region. Following a rape case in Suva in 1984, concerned women in Fiji began a female victims’ counselling service in Suva, the Fiji Women’s Crisis Centre (FWCC). Two years later, in 1986, the Fiji Women’s Rights Movement (FWRM) was established. Growing awareness about human rights, women’s rights and gender equality accompanied the development of the movement against violence against women in Fiji and other Pacific countries. In the late 1980s and subsequent years women’s rights groups and shelters for female victims of gender-based violence began to be established in a number of countries. Information regarding gender-based violence has increased over the past three decades both through awareness raising by women’s organizations and in-country and region-wide studies. Safe houses, counselling services, community awareness and education programmes, advocacy against ‘blaming the victim’ in sexual abuse and rape cases by members of the judiciary, collaboration with FWRM on law reforms, public media education, training of male advocates based on the Warwick principles15 as well as training of police officers on violence against women and children have all become core activities of FWCC. Marches and protests with posters and banners on occasions such as ‘Reclaim the Night’ for safer streets for women and children as well as citizens generally, and a range of intense campaigning linked to ‘16 Days of Activism against Gender-Based Violence’ became regular annual events. FWCC established local branches in Ba, Labasa and Nadi outside Fiji’s capital, Suva, where its headquarters are located. Regular visits are made to other smaller municipalities and rural areas by activists informing communities of the harm caused by domestic violence and, more generally, violence against women and children, as well as the support services available to victims of such violence. Shocking statistics of the widespread nature of violence against women and children have been compiled and shared so that law enforcement agencies and policymakers as well as activists can understand the gravity of this social issue, and also take action to prevent it. FWCC noted that in Fiji, between 2014 and February 2022, 40 women had died as a result of 321

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domestic violence (Kumar, 2022). Besides widespread intimate partner violence in PNG (15,444 cases in 2020), men have viciously attacked and killed women accused of sorcery (McLellan, 2021). In Fiji, 64 per cent of women who have had intimate relationships have experienced physical and sexual violence; 61 per cent were physically attacked and 34 per cent sexually abused (FWCC, 2013). It is estimated that globally about one in three (30%) of women are subjected to gender-based violence. However, in the Pacific, national research carried out in Kiribati, Solomon Islands, Vanuatu as well as Fiji shows that the prevalence of intimate partner physical and/or sexual violence is more than 60 per cent. In the Marshall Islands the prevalence is 51 per cent and in Palau it is 25 per cent.16 Shamima Ali, the co-ordinator of FWCC, and a former human rights commissioner in Fiji,17 travelled extensively in the region including to Pohnpei, part of the Federated States of Micronesia in the northern Pacific. She mobilized women to establish women’s crisis centres in the region. Such centres led by indigenous women emerged first in Vanuatu in 1999, coordinated by Merilyn Tahi, and later in some parts of PNG, and Solomon Islands. In Tonga, the WCCC was established in 2010. Linking these centres is the PWNAVAW, chaired by FWCC. PWNAVAW was established in 1992 following the first Pacific Regional Workshop on Violence Against Women. The network produces a newsletter, Beneath Paradise which shares information about events, initiatives and the achievements of the women’s groups working towards the elimination of gender-based violence. The annual ‘16 Days of Activism against Violence against Women’ in Fiji led by FWCC include public education campaigns regarding gender violence, media statements advocating an end to violence against women and children, the sharing of research data on intimate partner violence and, as noted above, marches in urban centres protesting against gender-based violence, and calling for respect for women’s rights. A range of similar activities are organized by the movement against violence against women in other countries of the region. The WCCC led by Ofa Guttenbeil Likiliki in Tonga was at the vanguard of lobbying efforts for the adoption of the Family Protection Law in 2013. Tuvalu has adopted legislation on family protection. The Samoan National Human Rights Institution conducted a public inquiry into domestic violence in 2017, and the PNG parliament set up a committee of inquiry into domestic violence; it made 71 recommendations to stop gender violence (McLellan, 2021). Kiribati also adopted a Children, Young People and Family Welfare Act in 2013. By 2021, 13 PICs were reported to have put in place family protection laws to protect survivors of domestic violence.18 The adoption of laws to protect women and children against violence have spread across national jurisdictions as a consequence of the advocacy of the Pacific-wide movement against violence against women and children. There has been significant support for national and regional activities of the movement by donors especially Australia and New Zealand, as well as technical support by UN agencies such as UN Women and UNICEF, and the Regional Rights Resource Team at the Secretariat of the Pacific Community (SPC). With the exception of Tonga, all PSIDS have adopted the UN Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW) and women’s rights advocates, including those in the movement against violence against women, were instrumental in persuading Pacific governments to do so. With the adoption of family protection and gender equality legislations, the framework has been established to advocate even more strongly on women’s rights and ending violence against women and children. However, challenges remain. These include cultural norms linked to patriarchal ideas whereby the family is seen as sacrosanct and should not be undermined by family members. This pretext effectively condones intimate partner abuse and violence. It is also seen as unbecoming for a wife to lodge complaints against 322

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her husband. And often women think more about the consequences for their children than about themselves. Women’s dependence on men, their reluctance to lodge complaints against perpetrators of physical and sexual violence, and not unusually the refusal of police to investigate and lay charges against perpetrators are among the remaining challenges faced by the movement to end violence against women. In Fiji, where the police force has accepted a ‘no drop policy’ against intimate partner violence, it is still the case that individual police officers may take it upon themselves to advise a victim of violence to reconcile with the perpetrator, and not to take the matter any further. This has been even more apparent when the perpetrator is a policeman. Other challenges include the lack of resources to accommodate victims of gender-based violence in safe houses, the absence of qualified counsellors and sufficient capacity in record keeping, financial management and information technology know-how. The existence of PWNAVAW provides support for its members and these capacity challenges are being addressed with support from donors. Since the early 1980s, the upsurge in civil society concerns and advocacy and actions about violence against women and children have resulted in significant policy and legal changes in a number of PICs. The roles of FWCC and PWNAVAW in generating awareness, protests, research and data gathering, disseminating information, and lobbying government officials have been crucial to progress the objective of ending gender-based violence. Strong leadership and deep commitment for women’s rights, the regional outreach, and the support of governments and donor partners have been significant. There is still much to do as violence against women and children persists in nearly all PSIDS in the context of rapid social and economic changes and persistent male dominant cultural norms.

The regional campaign against deep-sea mining Resistance to DSM in Oceania began in PNG in direct response to the PNG government’s controversial issuing of a license in 2011 to a Canadian-registered venture capital start-up company, Nautilus Minerals Inc., to experimentally mine mineral deposits at hydrothermal vents on the seafloor, 1,600 m below the surface of the Bismarck Sea. The mining license was issued without either sufficient understanding or assessment of its likely environmental impacts or consultation with communities in the region of the Bismarck Sea, and before national legislation to regulate seabed mining within PNG’s Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ) had even been developed. This was of particular concern given PNG’s already massive dependence on extractive industries and the country’s woeful experience of their devastating social and environmental impacts. The Nautilus project – named Solwara 1 – triggered strong public protests and the first national campaign in the region against seabed mining, as well as a court challenge in 2017. Although the project foundered before actual mining began, with Nautilus controversially filing for bankruptcy in November 2019, but not before insider investors with the company had taken their money out, the PNG government was left with a debt of US $125 million to a national bank from which it had borrowed to meet its 15 per cent equity share in the project. Regional activists outside of PNG first learned about community opposition to the Nautilus project and to DSM through stories from 2010, posted by Papua New Guinea Mine Watch, a blog site which first began tracking developments in relation to the controversial Ramu Nickel mine and extended to covering all PNG mining operations.19 A petition against DSM was initiated by ACTNOW!, a community advocacy organization which uses internet social networking tools and campaign videos as well as engaging with communities to highlight critical 323

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issues that affect them, thereby ‘encouraging the masses to Speak Out and Provoke Change.20 ACTNOW!’s petition against DSM was taken up by PANG, which regularly displayed a banner with ACTNOW!’s campaign wording: ‘Stop Ocean Crime’ – Say No to Experimental Seabed Mining in the Pacific – Sign the petition, with ACTNOW!’s web address21 at national, regional and international gatherings of CSOs and social movements, including at the Women’s March during the Rio+20 UN Conference on Environment and Development in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, in 2012. From 2011, PANG with the support of other organizations based in Fiji including the PCC and Fiji-based members of the global South feminist network, Development Alternatives with Women for a New Era (DAWN), began working in solidarity with the Madang-based Bismarck Ramu Group (BRG) and ACTNOW! to oppose DSM. Led by PANG, whose work up until then had been primarily focused on critiquing and challenging the World Trade Organization’s global regime of free trade and trade liberalization reforms in the region, the group began to engage in lobbying efforts with Pacific leaders, targeting the Pacific Island Forum meeting in the Cook Islands in an attempt to halt an EU-funded DSM project with the South Pacific Commission (now the Pacific Community). The project, which was to involve the development of national regulatory legislation on seabed mining, was seen as readying Pacific island member states of ISA to participate in sponsoring mining companies to obtain exploration tenements in the Clarion-Clipperton Zone (CCZ), an area of the Pacific Ocean under the ISA’s jurisdiction, with a view to benefiting from the mining of seabed minerals there. The SPC-EU project went ahead, and national laws were drafted and adopted in most PICs. When the SPC developed a regional legal and regulatory framework for DSM under the same project and spruiked it as global model, PANG commissioned a legal assessment by Blue Ocean Law (BOL), the Guam-based environmental law firm specializing in oceans law. The assessment, carried out by Julian Aguon and Julie Hunter of BOL, resulted in a damning critique of the SPC’s regional regulatory framework for ignoring the Precautionary Principle and the Principle of Free, Prior and Informed Consent. The legal assessment was released on 17 March 2016,22 launched in Suva at a press conference, and widely publicized. In June, BOL and PANG published a substantive critical analysis of DSM entitled Resource Roulette: How Deep Sea Mining and Inadequate Regulatory Frameworks Imperil the Pacific and its Peoples, based on a mapping of the legislative status of DSM in 11 PICs and in-depth case studies from four months of field work in Tonga, PNG and Fiji. It focused on ‘governmental capacity to effectively monitor DSM and manage resource revenue, as well as concerns about corruption, negative impacts, and lack of consultation with local communities’ (Blue Ocean Law and PANG, 2016, p. i).23 Campaigning against DSM in the region was strengthened following a regional event in Madang, PNG, in 2014, which brought together 200 activists (farmers, forestry workers, landowners, tribal chiefs), artists, academics, social workers and theologians from across Oceania in what was called the ‘Madang Wansolwara Dance 2014’. According to the late scholar activist Teresia Teaiwa, the Wansolwara (‘one ocean, one people’) event was conceived as a ‘dance’ rather than a conference as it sought to put ‘artistic and creative practice’ – visual art, poetry, music and dance – at the centre of activism against the forces of colonialism, militarism, extractivism and consumerism. The Madang event was organized by the PCC, PANG, the Social Empowerment Education Program and the BRG which is based in Madang. Teaiwa, who attended the Madang Dance, described it as aiming ‘to re-ignite a movement of solidarity across the Pacific’.24 The Madang event also rekindled regional support for national self-determination struggles, especially in West Papua where, thanks to social media, videos of the Indonesian military’s horrendous human rights violations were now circulating online, but also in the French 324

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territories of New Caledonia and French Polynesia. It also focused on economic self-determination, and critiqued extractivism for its devastating environmental and social impacts and associated governance issues.25 DSM as the newest, experimental and therefore high-risk extractive industry was seen as posing the greatest threat to the health and wellbeing, livelihoods and way of life of people in all countries of the region. It was especially worrying that mining companies had been successfully targeting PICs from 2011 onwards with tempting proposals to engage with them in seabed mineral exploration in the CCZ as sponsoring states. Meanwhile, within PNG, a strong movement of coastal communities in the Bismarck Sea area had also emerged in 2016. Led by New Irelander, Jonathan Mesulam, who had been actively engaged in opposing the Nautilus project and seabed mining since the project was first proposed in 2009, the Alliance of Solwara Warriors (ASW) grew to represent ‘thousands of people across the Bismarck and Solomon Seas’ who organized to oppose the Nautilus project ‘to protect our cultures, lives and livelihoods for us and future generations’ (ASW, 2020). In concert with other concerned organizations, in December 2017, the ASW launched a landmark legal case against the PNG government ‘in a bid to obtain key documents relating to the licensing and the environmental, health and economic impacts of the Solwara 1 deep sea mining project’ (ASW, 2020). ASW had been asking for full disclosure from the government on the project for four years, and declared that it was prepared to bring a case against the state in order to prevent the project from going ahead. Together with churches in PNG and other organizations including the Centre for Environmental Law and Community Rights, the ASW continues to campaign against DSM in PNG as there remains the major risk that licenses held by Nautilus could be acquired by another mining company and that the Solwara 1 project might resume.26 The ASW and other concerned groups have been pressuring the PNG government to cancel all seabed mining licenses.27 By 2016, concern among CSOs in the Pacific over the threat of DSM commencing in the Pacific Ocean was mounting with the knowledge that four PICs (Nauru, Tonga, Kiribati and the Cook Islands) were holding tenements in the CCZ for the exploration of polymetallic nodules, two of them as state sponsors of another Canadian-registered company, DeepGreen Metals Inc. DeepGreen’s founders and CEO, and several other key staff in the company, were discovered to have formerly been key figures in the now discredited Nautilus Minerals. Both sponsorships were made through locally registered entities which were later revealed to be wholly owned subsidiaries of DeepGreen. DeepGreen’s acquisition of Tonga Offshore Mining Ltd, a similarly locally registered entity in Tonga that had been established earlier by Nautilus Minerals,28 meant that the company now had three tenements in the CCZ, courtesy of PICs. The Civil Society Forum of Tonga which had been campaigning for years against proposed plans for DSM within its EEZ expanded its campaign efforts to include tracking and confronting both DeepGreen and the ISA in addition to its own government, while continuing to educate and muster support in communities across all the islands in Tonga for a ban on DSM. Concerned about the Cook Islands’ plans to open up its EEZ to exploration for DSM despite the establishment in 2017, to international acclaim, of the Marae Moana, a multiple-use marine park extending over its entire EEZ, an area covering 1.9 million sq km, PANG commissioned a review of the Cook Islands’ Marae Moana legislation and its regulatory legislation on DSM, the Cook Islands Seabed Mining Act 2019, and shared the reviews with the Cook Islands Ministry of Environment, and Council of Ariki. In 2021, following a call for exploration applications, publication of the three that had been received, and a call for public submissions on them, the government of the Cook Islands awarded contracts to three companies to explore the seabed within its EEZ. Details of the contracts, and whether they include a commitment to award a mining permit following exploration, have not yet been made public.29 A strong national campaign in 325

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the Cook Islands led by the Te Ipukarea Society (TIS), a proactive environmental NGO formed to ‘look after our heritage’, attempted to counter the government’s hard sell of DSM to Cook Islanders (‘it will make us all rich’) by sailing a vaka (a traditional sailing vessel) to different islands in the group to raise concerns about the dangers of DSM. TIS made a submission on the applications submitted by the exploration companies, and continues to advocate to, and plays a watchdog role on, the government and the Cook Islands Seabed Minerals Authority. Following the imposition of restrictions intended to curb the spread of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, PANG began to organize webinars on DSM, in order to bring together activists from the different national campaigns to share their stories and experiences and to provide updates on recent developments. In 2021, the Pacific Blue Line (PBL) against DSM was launched at the Civil Society Forum in Nadi, Fiji, with PBL partners, Fiji-based CSOs and former Secretary-General and Pacific Oceans Commissioner Dame Meg Taylor present, and a host of regional endorsers of the campaign, including the former Prime Minister of Tuvalu, Enele Sopoanga, attending virtually and addressing the gathering. Conceived as a Pacific-led global campaign to ban DSM, the PBL is co-sponsored by the PCC, the Pacific Islands Association of Non-governmental Organizations and DAWN. The PBL campaign joins other global campaigns led by international conservation and environment groups which have been campaigning for a moratorium on DSM, with the distinction that the PBL campaigns for a total ban on DSM. The PBL has collected signatures and received organizational endorsements of its statement. Physically attending and speaking at international meetings including, importantly, COP 26 in 2021 and the seventh Our Ocean Conference in Palau in 2022, as well as holding virtual events at other relevant meetings have become a critical part of the PBL campaign, especially as DSM had not featured in either climate or ocean conferences before due to strong resistance from organizers to it being included in their agendas. This has also been the case with the intergovernmental conference on an internationally binding treaty for the conservation and sustainable use of marine biological biodiversity in areas beyond national jurisdiction, which has restricted its remit by accepting existing jurisdictional arrangements in relation to ocean governance, despite mounting criticism and concerns about ISA’s role and conflicting mandates as promoter/licenser/beneficiary (and miner through ‘the Enterprise’, ISA’s own mining entity) on the one hand, and as regulator of DSM with responsibility to protect marine life and eco-systems in the ‘area’ under its jurisdiction from harm.30 On 30 June 2021, Nauru, as a member state of ISA, triggered an obscure ‘two-year rule’ under the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea to jump-start mining in the CCZ, by formally submitting to a plan of work from Nauru Ocean Resources Inc (NORI) to commence mining of polymetallic nodules. Under the two-year rule, ISA will apparently be required to issue a mining license to NORI even if the mining regulations, which have been under negotiation for several years, have not yet been finalized. This action by Nauru on behalf of NORI, a wholly owned subsidiary of DeepGreen – now known as the Metals Company, following its merger in 2021 with the Sustainable Opportunities Acquisition Corporation – has escalated the urgency of mobilizing global action to stop DSM commencing. In this UN Decade for Ocean Science, as increasing evidence comes to light from marine scientists of the rich biodiversity in deep-sea and seabed habitats, the fragility of species and eco-systems in this area of the planet that we still know too little about,31 and the critical role played by ocean systems such as seeps and vents on the seafloor in sequestering carbon and methane, campaigns to stop DSM have become especially urgent. The arguments by mining companies like DeepGreen/the Metals Company that the metals in polymetallic nodules on the deep seabed are necessary for a global transition from fossil fuels and will therefore save the planet ignore new technologies in battery recycling which may 326

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make sourcing new metals from the seafloor unnecessary, as well as ill-conceived and dangerous. Their claims that DSM is less environmentally damaging than land-based mining, with no social impacts, and that the deep seabed is a dark and lifeless place, have been strongly refuted by marine scientists, of whom more than 600 have called for a moratorium. For Oceanic people in particular, whose livelihoods and way of life depend on the ocean, the considerable risks of DSM destroying marine life through noise pollution and the dispersal of toxic sediment plumes which will not be able to be contained to limited areas of the ocean, as well as escalating the climate crisis by causing the release of stored carbon and methane, pose a danger equal to that of nuclear bomb testing in the past. The regional social movement against DSM is gathering momentum. Two recent positive achievements directly relating to the goal of influencing governments which the PBL has facilitated are the formation of the Pacific Parliamentarians Alliance on DSM (PPADSM) which was launched with 16 members at the seventh Our Ocean Conference in Palau in April 2022,32 and the announcement by the Tuvalu Minister of Foreign Affairs that his government was withdrawing an earlier application to ISA as state sponsor of an obscure new company, Circular Metals Tuvalu. Circular Metals Corporation, the shadowy parent company of Circular Metals Tuvalu, was subsequently outed by DSM-Pacific campaigners as a new start-up fronted by none other than former Nautilus CEO and DeepGreen founder, David Heydon, thereby highlighting the small number of interlinked individuals behind companies leading the charge for DSM in the CCZ with ambitions of enriching themselves from ‘the common heritage of mankind’, seemingly without ISA scrutiny and due diligence picking this up. Speedy work by the Tuvalu Climate Action Network, which is part of the PBL collective, in demanding information from the government, mobilizing public opinion through community meetings, collecting signatures on objections to the sponsorship, and using public media to raise alarm, achieved success. To conclude, the role being played by civil society groups and activists across Oceania who are united in the movement to stop DSM commencing is critical. Unlike the struggle against nuclear weapons testing in the region in past decades, where states and citizens of the region were united in their opposition to what was being perpetrated by foreign powers, DSM is an issue on which PICs are clearly divided as several small states are in favour of DSM. This is thus a fight that had to be taken up by civil society, by a peoples’ movement. And the struggle has to be waged on several fronts: with the states that have DSM ambitions: with ISA as an UN governing body on its conflict of interest and dereliction of duty of care; and with the profitseeking mining companies. In such a context, a range of resources, skills and activities are required including tracking developments, research and analysis, sharing information, quiet diplomacy, public education, media liaison, linking with allies, using strategic spaces and social media platforms, and most of all building and sustaining partnerships with citizens groups, churches, community leaders and local communities within the region. Organizations engaged in the movement against DSM in the region have been doing all of the above. Encouraging and assisting the formation of the PPADSM and engaging the support of the newly formed Pacific Elders Voices group of senior public figures are strategically significant advances by the PBL campaign. Tuvalu’s retreat from participating in this perilous pursuit is a major victory for the movement. For the activists in the movement against DSM, this is a heart and soul struggle to save their ocean, their peoples’ livelihoods and their way of life.33

Conclusion All three civil society-led social movements covered in this chapter arose out of strong concerns relating to political, environmental and gender justice. The NFIP movement 327

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sought an end to both French nuclear testing in French Polynesia and to colonialism. It also advocated for what is now termed ‘nuclear justice’ for the victims of nuclear radiation as a result of nuclear weapons tests conducted in the Marshall Islands while they were being administered under Trusteeship by the United States at Morurua and Fangataufa atolls in France’s colony of French Polynesia, and in Christmas Island in Kiribati by the colonial power, Britain. It set up the PCRC which engaged in convening regular regional conferences and implementing conference decisions, lobbying and making submissions to Pacific governments and regional and international bodies including the UN, regional networking and information sharing, and developing a People’s Charter for a Nuclear Free and Independent Pacific. After working actively for 36 years, helping to bring an end to French nuclear tests, and to see Pacific governments adopt a regional treaty, the South Pacific Nuclear Free Zone Treaty, the movement petered out. Its recent revival by a younger generation of activists is now under way. The campaign against violence against women has spread throughout the Pacific region through the sustained efforts of the PWNAVAW, initiated by the FWCC. The action repertoire of this movement includes conferencing, internet communication, a newsletter, and like the NFIP, strong public advocacy including protests. Working in tandem with women’s rights movements across the region it has successfully advocated for legal and policy changes to advance gender equality and an end to gender-based violence. The movement against DSM is the most recent of the civil society-led movements, which in a very short time has been able to establish a region-wide network. The availability of the internet and scope for holding Zoom meetings have facilitated the building of links and relationships virtually among activists across the region. Prominent among its achievements are the PBL campaign for a ban on DSM, aiding the creation of a Pacific Parliamentarians Alliance on DSM, and supporting Tuvalu activists in successfully lobbying their government to rescind its decision to sponsor a newly registered mining company headed by the founder of two other companies with tenements in the CCZ attained through PSIDS sponsors. The three civil society-led social movements have been successful as a result of their regional character, networking and relationship building across the region’s vast ocean spaces, their common quest for justice – whether social, political, environmental or gender justice – the capabilities and deep concern of the activists, and their ability to garner the support of communities, governments and donors in their respective missions. As observed in the introduction to this chapter the three civil society-led movements are very different in relation to the issue that is central to their respective missions. Two were triggered by the intrusion of foreign interests in nuclear weapons testing in Pacific colonies, and in DSM, and the third by gender-based violence within PSIDS societies themselves. Among the lessons learnt from these social movements of small island states are that regional outreach and activism provide a larger constituency for policy and legal action to achieve social justice. Advocacy through meetings, protests and gaining media attention have drawn community support from a wider range of people within a country and also regionally. Today, regional outreach and networking across the wide expanse of the Pacific Ocean is facilitated through the availability of modern information and communications technology, particularly the internet and social media, and the advent of virtual meeting platforms such as Zoom. The strategies adopted by the three social movements show that relative isolation, insularity and even language barriers can be effectively countered.

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Notes 1 Australia and Papua New Guinea (PNG) were first peopled well over 70,000 years ago; the Lapita people migrated from the islands of PNG in the north-west Pacific south and south-east wards to Solomon Islands, Vanuatu, New Caledonia, Fiji, Samoa, Tonga, Niue, the Cook Islands and Rapanui (Easter Islands), and finally to Aotearoa/New Zealand. These ancestors of modern-day Pacific islanders spoke in the proto-Austronesian languages and were highly skilled oceanic navigators. They established a variety of social systems ranging from egalitarian, acephalous social orders to hierarchical chiefly systems (Kealy et al. (2018); Shaw et al. (2022). 2 PICs and PSIDS are used interchangeably. 3 In this chapter, advocacy NGOs are perceived as the vanguards of social movements. 4 See Klingelhofer and Robinson (2004) for a summary of the laws under which CSOs register in selected states of Oceania. 5 The premier organization of the PICs, the Pacific Island Forum was consciously originally formed in 1971 as an organization of independent PICs to address issues of mutual concern and interest, including colonialism and French nuclear testing, without the constraining presence and influence of colonial powers (Fry, 2019). 6 Nuclear Tests (New Zealand v. France), International Court of Justice; see www.icj-cij.org/en/case/59. 7 www.theguardian.com/world/2021/mar/09/france-has-underestimated-impact-of-nuclear-tests-in-fr ench-polynesia-research-finds. 8 www.scoop.co.nz/stories/WO0603/S00045/nuclear-free-independent-pacific-day-bikini-day.htm. 9 www.rnz.co.nz/international/pacific-news/307804/the-battle-continues,-50-years-after-first-test-atmururoa. 10 https://navymuseum.co.nz/explore/by-themes/1970-today/french-nuclear-testing-at-mururoa/. 11 The short-lived Fiji Labour Party and National Federation Party government also banned nucleararmed warships from Fiji ports before it was overthrown in the first military coup d’état of May 1987. 12 www.rnz.co.nz/international/pacific-news/307804/the-battle-continues,-50-years-after-first-test-atmururoa. 13 See also http://saiic.nativeweb.org/ayn/document/2518. 14 See, for instance, the report of the UN Special Rapporteur on human rights and environmentally sound management of hazardous waste in the Marshall Islands, www.ohchr.org/sites/default/files/ Documents/HRBodies/HRCouncil/RegularSession/Session21/A-HRC-21-48-Add1_en.pdf. 15 The Warwick principles recommend actions that are based on accountability, taking a human rights approach, doing no harm, adopting an evidence-based approach and evidence gathering, being inclusive and intersectional, being gender transformative, and being informed by context. 16 https://pacificwomen.org/our-work/focus-areas/ending-violence-against-women/. 17 In 2009, Shamima Ali was bestowed with the Human Rights Defender Award by Amnesty International Aotearoa New Zealand. 18 https://dpa.bellschool.anu.edu.au/news-events/events/8216/symposium-family-protection-orders-pa cific-region. 19 ‘Deep-sea mining could destroy the cradle of life on earth’, 16 November 2010, https://ramumine. wordpress.com/2010/11/16/deep-sea-mining-could-destroy-the-cradle-of-life-on-earth/. 20 https://actnowpng.org/about/what-we-do. 21 www.actnowpng.org. 22 An Assessment of the SPC Regional Legislative and Regulatory Framework (RLRF) for Deep Sea Minerals Exploration and Exploitation, http://nabf219anw2q7dgn1rt14bu4.wpengine.netdna-cdn.com/files/ 2016/06/BOL-PANG-REPORT.pdf 23 The report can be found at www.savethehighseas.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/05/Blue-oceans-la w-Resource_Roulette.pdf. 24 ‘One ocean, one people’. Interview with Teresia Teaiwa on self-determination struggles in the Pacific, 29 October 2014, https://fightback.org.nz/2014/10/29/one-ocean-one-people-interview-withteresia-teaiwa-on-self-determination-struggles-in-the-pacific/. 25 The ‘Madang Dance’ also saw the creation, under the auspices of PANG, of ‘YoungSolwara’ (YS), a group of young activists and creative artists who use their talents to support self-determination struggles in Oceania, including the campaign to stop DSM. PANG continues to nurture YS, which operates out of the PANG office. YS convenes its own regional meetings and plans its own work programme and YS activists have held exhibitions of their work, as well as live poetry and dance performances.

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Vijay Naidu and Claire Slatter 26 Nautilus Minerals Inc. was reported in 2016 to be sitting on ‘approximately 423,000 km2 of exploration tenements (either under application or awarded) in Fiji, New Zealand, PNG, the Solomon Islands, Tonga and Vanuatu, as well as in the Clarion Clipperton Fracture Zone, a region of the Pacific Ocean’s deep seabed beyond national jurisdictions, via its subsidiary Tonga Offshore Mining Limited’ (World Bank, 2016). 27 In November 2019, Andy Whitmore of the Deep Sea Mining Campaign reported that the liquidation of Nautilus Minerals ‘was enacted to give birth to a new, smaller Nautilus’ controlled by the company’s two main shareholders, MB Holding and Metalloinvest. According to Mesulam, an article in the PNG Business News suggested that the ‘new’ Nautilus ‘had applied to the PNG Mineral Resources Authority to vary the existing mining lease’, www.minesandcommunities.org/article.php?a=14179. 28 Almost immediately after Nautilus Minerals filed for bankruptcy, DeepGreen moved to acquire its Tongan-registered subsidiary, Tonga Offshore Mining Ltd. 29 One of the companies awarded an exploration contract is linked to Odyssey, the mining giant which is currently suing the Mexican government for allegedly reneging on an agreement to mine following exploration. 30 For the strongest published critique of ISA, see Todd Woody and Evan Halper (2022) ‘A Gold Rush in the Deep Sea Raises Questions about the Authority Charged with Protecting it’, Los Angeles Times, 19 April 2022, www.latimes.com/politics/story/2022-04-19/gold-rush-in-the-deep-sea-raises-ques tions-about-international-seabed-authority. 31 See Hunter et al. (2018) for an excellent assembling of the available knowledge from scientific research on deep-sea ecosystems and the likely impact of DSM and a summary of what was known in 2018 about life in the deep ocean and seabed. 32 See https://pacific.scoop.co.nz/2022/04/ppadsm-calls-for-more-commitments-to-safeguarding-ourocean-from-deep-sea-mining/. 33 See the Pacific Elders’ statement at https://pasifika.news/2022/04/pacific-elders-voice-statement-o n-oceans/.

References Ali, S. (2006). Violence Against the Girl Child in the Pacific Islands Region, United Nations Division for the Advancement of Women (DAW) in collaboration with UNICEF Expert Group Meeting on the Elimination of all Forms of Discrimination and Violence against the Girl Child, UNICEF Innocenti Research Centre, Florence, 25–28 September. www.un.org/womenwatch/daw/egm/elim-disc-viol-girlchild/Exp ertPapers/EP.14%20%20Ali.pdf. Alliance of Solwara Warriors (ASW) (2020). PNG’s Approach to Deep Sea Mining Is ‘Chaotic and Uncoordinated’, All Licences Must Be Cancelled’. www.deepseaminingoutofourdepth.org/allia nce-of-solwara-warriors/. Blue Ocean Law and Pacific Network on Globalisation (PANG) (2016). Resource Roulette: How Deep Sea Mining and Inadequate Regulatory Frameworks Imperil the Pacific and its Peoples. www.savethehighseas.org/ wp-content/uploads/2018/05/Blue-oceans-law-Resource_Roulette.pdf. Drozdiak, W. (1995). France Defends Test Plans as Nuclear Protests Build. The Washington Post, 4 September. www.washingtonpost.com/archive/politics/1995/09/04/france-defends-test-plans-as-nuclea r-protests-build/bff719bd-e80f-4ebd-804b-964d6d5f4621/. Fiji Women’s Crisis Centre (FWCC) (2013). Somebody’s Life, Everybody’s Business. https://pacificwomen. org/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/FWCC-National-Research-on-Womens-Health-Fiji.pdf. Fry, G. (1985). Toward a South Pacific Nuclear-Free Zone. Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, 41(6), 16–20. doi:doi:10.1080/00963402.1985.11455976. Fry, G. (2019). Framing the Islands: Power and Diplomatic Agency in Pacific Regionalism. Pacific Series. Australian National University Press. https://pressfiles.anu.edu.au/downloads/press/n6014/pdf/book.pdf. George, N. (2012). Situating Women: Gender Politics and Circumstance in Fiji. ANU e-Press. https://p ress-files.anu.edu.au/downloads/press/p154311/pdf/book.pdf. George, N. (2017). ‘Men Have No Idea What We Go Through’: Ending Violence against Women in the Pacific Islands. www.opendemocracy.net/en/5050/violence-against-women-pacific-islands/. Griffen, V. (1976). Women Speak Out! A Report of the Pacific Women’s Conference. Suva, October 27– 2 November. https://nzetc.victoria.ac.nz/tm/scholarly/tei-GriWom1.html. Hamel-Green, M. (2015). ‘Antinuclear Campaigning and the South Pacific Nuclear-Free Zone (Rarotonga) Treaty, 1960–85’, Proceedings of the 14th Biennial Labour History Conference, ed. P. Deery and J. Kimber. 330

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Melbourne: Australian Society for the Study of Labour History. https://labourhistorymelbourne.org/a ntinuclear-campaigning-and-the-south-pacific/. Hau’ofa, E. (1993). Our Sea of Islands. In E. Waddell, V. Naidu and E. Hau’ofa (Eds), A New Oceania: Rediscovering our Sea of Islands. Suva: University of the South Pacific. Hunter, J., Singh, P., and Aguon, J. (2018). Broadening Common Heritage: Addressing Gaps in the Deep Sea Mining Regulatory Regime. Harvard Environmental Law Review. Kealy, S., Louys, J., and O’Connor, S. (2018). Least-Cost Pathway Models Indicate Northern Human Dispersal from Sunda to Sahul. Journal of Human Evolution, 125, December, 59–70. Klingelhofer, S., and Robinson, D. (2004). The Rule of Law, Custom, and Civil Society in the South Pacific: An Overview. Washington, DC: International Centre for Not-for-Profit Law. Kumar, R. (2022). FWCC: Stop Being Bystanders, The Fiji Times, 14 February. McLellan, J. (2021). Women in Papua New Guinea Are Suffering an Epidemic of Violence: The Government Must Act. The Guardian, 1 October. www.theguardian.com/world/commentisfree/2021/oct/ 01/women-in-papua-new-guinea-are-suffering-an-epidemic-of-violence-the-government-must-act. McLellan, N. (2017). Grappling with the Bomb Britain’s Pacific H-bomb Tests. Canberra: ANU Press. Naidu, V. (1988) The Fiji Anti-Nuclear Group: Problems and Prospects. In R. Walker and W. Sutherland (Eds), Peace, Security and the Nuclear Issue. London: Zed Books. Naidu, V. (1991). Nuclear Strategy and Non-Nuclearization in the South Pacific. In Y. Satow (Ed.), Prospects for Demilitarization and Autonomy in the South Pacific (pp. 5–24). Hiroshima: Institute for Peace Science, Hiroshima University. Pacific Elders’ Voice (2022). Statement on Oceans. Pasifika Environews, 8 April.https://pasifika.news/2022/ 04/pacific-elders-voice-statement-on-oceans/. Philippe, S., and Statius, T. (2021). Toxique: The Aftermath of French Nuclear Testing in the South Pacific. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. Robie, D. (2016) Eyes of Fire: The Last Voyage of the Rainbow Warrior (5th edn). Auckland: Little Island Press. Shaw, B., Hawkins, S., Becerra-Valdivia, L. et al. (2022). Frontier Lapita Interaction with Resident Papuan Populations Set the Stage for Initial Peopling of the Pacific. Nat Ecol Evol 6, 802–812. https:// doi.org/10.1038/s41559-022-01735-w. Singh, S. (2021). FWCC Calling on Every Fijian to Stop Being a Bystander Following Death of Cunningham Woman. Fijivillage. www.fijivillage.com/news/FWCC-calling-on-every-Fijian-to-stop -being-a-bystander-following-death-of-Cunningham-woman-4frx58/. Siwatibau, S. and Williams, D. (1982). A Call to a New Exodus: An Anti-Nuclear Primer for Pacific People. Suva: Pacific Council of Churches, p. 96. Slatter, C. (2006). Treading Water in Rapids? Non-Governmental Organisations and Resistance to Neo-Liberalism in Pacific Island States. In S. Firth (Ed.), Globalisation and Governance in the Pacific Islands. Canberra: ANU e-Press, Australian National University, pp. 23–42. Slatter, C. (2020). Intersecting Interests in Deep-Sea Mining: Pacific SIDS, Venture Capital Companies and Institutional Actors. DAWN Informs, July, 27–34. https://dawnnet.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/ 07/DAWN-Informs-on-Blue-Economy_2020.pdf. Slatter, C., and Underhill Sem, Y. (2009). Reclaiming Pacific Island Regionalism: Does Neoliberalism Have to Reign? In B. D’Costa, and K. Lee-Koo (Eds), Gender and Global Politics in the Asia-Pacific (pp. 195–210). New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Smith, R. H. (1997). The Nuclear Free and Independent Pacific Movement after Muroroa. New York: I. B. Tauris (distributed by St. Martin’s Press Scholarly and Reference Division, New York.) www.proquest. com/docview/217705830. Weir, C. (2018). The Opening of the Coconut Curtain: Pacific Influence on the World Council of Churches through the Campaign for a Nuclear-Free Pacific, 1961 to 200., The Journal of Pacific History. https://doi.org/10.1080/00223344.2018.1512370. Woody, T., and Halper, E. (2022). A Gold Rush in the Deep Sea Raises Questions about the Authority Charged with Protecting it. Los Angeles Times, 19 April.www.latimes.com/politics/story/2022-04-19/ gold-rush-in-the-deep-sea-raises-questions-about-international-seabed-authority. World Bank (2016). Precautionary Management of Deep Sea Mining Potential in Pacific Island Countries . Pacific Possible. www.sprep.org/attachments/VirLib/Regional/pacific-possible-deep-sea-mining.pdf.

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23 Nostalgia for the future Student activism of the Caribbean Left Amílcar Peter Sanatan

Introduction This chapter explores the historical background, politics and organization of student activism on the Caribbean Left, with specific reference to the Socialist Student Conference (SSC) in Trinidad and Tobago. Student governance institutions ‘provide a framework for student social ˇ ˇ 2014, p. 396). While and political activities within the academic community’ (Klemencic, student governments are often investigated as the primary political institution of student organizing in higher education, student clubs and political action groups highlight the internal democracy and political contestations within the student population. Student activism occurs both within and outside formal institutions of student governance. In this chapter, it is argued that contemporary student activism on the Caribbean Left makes strategic use of symbols and narratives of prior movements to advance contemporary social critique and action in areas that received little attention in the past. The SSC, established in 2015, draws on activist histories and 20th-century student activism to establish some of its political claims in the present day. The SSC is a vibrant university-based student action group that has an activist presence at the University of the West Indies (UWI) and has developed networks with the wider youth and student movement; however, the organization has been unable to mainstream its politics at the UWI St. Augustine campus or at the national level. Although global developments such as the campaigns of Bernie Sanders in the United States, Jeremy Corbyn in the United Kingdom and anti-capitalist Left movements in Latin America have illustrated the contemporary appeal of alternative politics, ideological mobilizations have not been embraced at the popular level in the Anglophone Caribbean. This chapter assesses some contemporary socialist organizing in the Caribbean from an activist standpoint as compared to abstracted and conceptual discourses about the Caribbean Left. In terms of organization, the chapter first discusses student activism in a global context, and proceeds to describe the role of university students of the Caribbean Left from the late 1960s to the 1970s. The chapter subsequently illustrates the aims and organizational structure of the SSC as an example of contemporary student activism of the Caribbean Left. The final section draws some lessons from past student activism of the Caribbean Left. Accordingly, in this chapter, the historical conditions of Leftist activism in the Caribbean is understood through a review of the

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scholarly literature on Caribbean social history and social change, followed by an analysis of the SSC, based on interviews with activists and a thematic review of the archives of the organization. Ideological pluralism, social media engagement, the archiving of Caribbean socialisms and challenging the masculinist structure of the organization are discussed as practices of new politics and forms of social organizing in the region.

Student activism in a global context Although student movements did not begin in the 1960s (Altbach, 1989), the student protests in France 1968 marked a watershed moment in crystallizing this phenomenon. In the United States, student activism and social consciousness were fixed on university campuses by the 1950s. The impact of the civil rights, Black Power, women’s and environmental movements shaped the complexion and political character of the student movement globally (Burns and Ellsworth, 2009, pp. 11–12). In the United States, Students for a Democratic Society was an exemplary organization of the New Left and the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee performed a critical role in the civil rights and Black Power movements. Movements in the global North were relevant to movements in the global South. The influence of these movements was multidirectional and far-reaching. In Africa, student movements in the late 1960s were instrumental in the struggle for independence and democracy. Joining more radical expressions of the Pan-Africanist movements, students increasingly identified with Marxism-Leninism and Maoism and established more politically oriented and activist organizations such as the University Students African Revolutionary Front in the then University College of Dar es Salaam in 1967 (Onada, 2016, p. 65). Onada notes that in the newly politically independent states of the Third World, universities were positioned as institutions of development for economic and political progress. Thus, the ‘special relationship’ of the university leadership and faculty with the existing political elites, evidenced by the establishment of heads of states as chancellors, was always at risk when students mobilized and challenged the political establishment (Onada, 2016, p. 66).

Student activism of the Caribbean Left Socialist and Leftist politics have many lineages in the English-speaking Caribbean. One of these strains can be traced to the returning students from Europe who subscribed to the ideologies and organizing approaches of the Fabian Society, the London School of Economics and British Labour Party politics. These included several ‘founding fathers’ of Caribbean independence and architects of post-independence Caribbean societies – Dr Eric Williams, Forbes Burnham, Norman Manley, John Compton and Errol Barrow – who were trained as university students in the UK. Lewis (2010, p. 76), commenting on this pattern of Europeaneducated Caribbean political leaders, said, Its final product was returning from London or Paris with the fine panache of professional training abroad, replete with a set of acquired manners: speech, dress, deportment, classical allusions which would open doors for him in the closed colonial society. At its best, it produced a José Ceslo Barbosa in Puerto Rico, an Aimé Césaire in Martinique, an Eric Williams in Trinidad. A generation of postcolonial Leftists emerged from the intellectual middle class in the Caribbean in the mid-20th century. A significant section of this class of people attended the UWI 333

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(then known as the University College of the West Indies). Their work represented ‘the quest for a more independent ideological orientation’ (Mars, 1998, p. 49) and focused on the impact of colonialism on culture, blending Marxist analyses with Caribbean-based cultural practices, Third Worldism and race-class analyses. Revolutionary movements at the national, regional and international level shaped the philosophies and political actions of these groups (Charles and Jameson-Charles, 2014, p. 33). The UWI was one of the centres of radical intellectual ferment in the English-speaking Caribbean. Student and progressive faculty-led publications were critical of the intellectual development of the Caribbean Left during the 1960s and 1970s. The New World Group was a pioneering group of regional scholars that helped to develop a historical and political economic analysis of Caribbean underdevelopment. The newsletter, Moko, which appeared in the island of Trinidad in 1969, grew out of the publications Scope and Abeng in Jamaica and drew on the burgeoning Caribbean student radicalism of the time. Mars (1998, p. 50) notes, ‘[t]he specific campus-based activity which more than any other directly influenced the emergence of these two radical periodicals was what has now come to be known as the Rodney Affair of 1968’. Similarly, the Ratoon group of academics was established in 1969 at the University of Guyana. Ratoon comprised a radical, multi-racial group of students and academics who sought to challenge the political hegemony of the People’s National Congress and People’s Progressive Party in Guyana (Westmaas, 2009, p. 112). In Eastern Caribbean countries, beyond the main campuses of the university, ‘forums’ of civil servants were set up to discuss social change and entrance to political leadership (Sunshine, 1985, p. 53). The desires of Leftist students for scholarship and knowledge were fed in part by Leftist, especially Marxist-oriented, faculty in the UWI. The current Prime Minister of Saint Vincent and the Grenadines, Ralph Gonsalves, notes the significance of his encounters with Trevor Munroe and Ken Post and their impact on the teaching of Marxist political economy in 1969 (Gonsalves 2010). Left-leaning intellectuals and students at the university, unemployed youth and new political organizations challenged the state and postcolonial order during the 1960s and 1970s. The ‘coming of age’ moment for Caribbean youth and students was defined by the 1960s and 1970s which would produce a period of political ferment through student activism at the UWI. This period is referenced specifically as it was marked by sustained political legitimacy. It was also the high point of Caribbean student political activism. Although the activities of students did not disrupt the legitimacy of state power and political rule in the region, it did elicit state responses to the activities and mobilizations of the youth and students. The political events that took place in Jamaica and Trinidad and Tobago were definitive historical events of students challenging university authority and the political status quo. Both territories responded with the severest repression against left-wing intellectual and activist forces. The expulsion of Pan-Africanist Marxist historian Walter Rodney from Jamaica by the Hugh Shearer government in 1968 initiated a series of student and youth protest responses among the student communities in Jamaica, Barbados, Trinidad and Tobago, Guyana and the West Indies. In Jamaica, the response of the state to student activism at the Mona campus of the UWI was repressive. The campus was militarily occupied for two weeks and teaching was suspended. Moreover, after Rodney had been deported, the Ministry of Home Affairs began to prepare deportation orders for non-national student leaders and other ‘trouble-makers’ based at the UWI. The following year, at the Sir George Williams University in Montreal, Canada, students protested against racism in their education experience and destroyed a computer laboratory. In support of the arrested students at the UWI in Trinidad and Tobago, students barred the Governor-General from participating in a university ceremony causing the humiliation of then Prime Minister, Dr Eric Williams. This turning point led to the formation of the 334

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National Joint Action Committee by the Guild President, Geddes Granger, later known as Makandal Daaga, who forged an alliance with the Oilfield Workers Trades Union and the Transport and Industrial Workers Union that brought about the 1970 Black Power Revolution. On both occasions, the political mobilization of the student bodies in Jamaica and Trinidad and Tobago converged with the wider unrest of unemployed and dejected urban youth. From 1968–1969, at the height of student political activism, Leftist student activists formed a minority group of the student population at the UWI. Pantin and Peters (2013, p. 21) made the point that ‘[r]adicalism was confined to a few and, indeed, there were students who opposed the activities of the Guild Council before and after the Rodney incident. Nevertheless, the unfolding drama of the radicals speaks to a dimension of the student body eager for change’. Furthermore, Rohlehr (1995, p. 382) observes that the university administration adopted a position of ‘benign neutrality’ from 1968–1970. This meant that the university administration did not set out to constrain and suppress students and faculty at the time (Pantin and Peters 2013, p. 23). Leftist students and faculty, after 1969, were confronted with the challenge of managing their level of involvement in the national politics of the day. This dilemma was manifested in the New World Group in Trinidad and Tobago in 1970 among which there was a division of opinion. Members were divided along sides that were either interested in direct political action or committed knowledge creation and intellectualism. Rohlehr observes: The Rodney incident posed the issue of how was the academic, particularly if he was a student of West Indian History, Economics, Sociology or Politics, to translate analysis into action, and thus justify analysis and rescue intellectual activity from the absurdity and paralysis which have often permeated it. (1995, pp. 387) Student political activism in the Caribbean reached a climax with the Rodney Riots in Jamaica, regional student responses to the Sir George Williams Affair in Montreal and radicalization of Black Power consciousness in Trinidad and Tobago between 1968 and 1970. The increasing demands for democratic change in Western liberal democracies, decolonial struggle and the Paris student protests offered a climate for the circulation of radical political discourses. Caribbean students responded to particular economic and social pressures in their societies, but their actions should be contextualized in a wider global condition of social change. These historical moments constitute today’s political mythology, not of the Leftist students but of the general student body of the UWI on all its campuses. Students from this cohort would later form the Left-wing leadership in the region from socialist and social democratic strands by the turn of the 1980s. Small Leftist groups with networks in national political committees and trade unions continued to agitate for alternatives to development. The public discourse and attitude to radical politics changed. This attitude is echoed by Trevor Munroe, secretary-general of the Workers Party of Jamaica, who described the political mood in 1977 thus: In Cuba, a communist party holds state power; in Guyana, the ruling party declares its adherence to socialism and its openness to Marxism-Leninism; the opposition party is recognized by the world community movement as a ‘fraternal party’ in Jamaica, for the first time in twenty-five years, ideological debate on ‘socialism’, ‘capitalism’, and ‘imperialism’ is an important factor in national politics. General elections in the current period in a number of territories, for example in Trinidad and Grenada, bring to the fore questions of Socialism and Communism in political propaganda and agitation. Marxist-Leninist 335

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ideology is gaining influence among sections of the intelligentsia and communist political groups, and trends are taking shape in Jamaica, Barbados, St. Vincent, Grenada and Trinidad. (Cited in Maingot, 2015, p. 183) While a number of Leftist faculty members in universities and the political arena may have posed public regard and respect, the political student activism of the time was on its way out.

Wither the Caribbean Left? Post-Grenada revolution In the introductory chapter of New Caribbean Thought: A Reader (2001), Meeks traces the ‘collapse of a paradigm’ of radical and Marxist Caribbean thought and praxis after the 1970s and after the implosion of the Grenada Revolution. In the post-independence period, the Caribbean dream of radical alternatives to development was crushed by both internal and external forces (and their intersections) that ultimately undermined socialist examples in the region, namely Guyana, Jamaica and Grenada. State-sponsored violence and authoritarianism and/or aggressive US direct intervention stripped the Left of its the power and legitimacy. Meeks argues: Long before the symbolic collapse of the Berlin Wall, the invasion of Panama to purportedly capture its President Noriega, and the Iraqi conflict, the collapse of the Grenada Revolution and the US invasion signalled not only the end of a particular variety of Caribbean Marxism but the demise of an entire notion of sovereignty and nonalignment. (2001, p. ix) He goes further to state: Many previously idealistic and committed young men and women withdrew from politics. Some, without resources, education or family to support them, sunk deep into poverty; others went insane. Some, starting with a firmer social foundation, reincarnated themselves as businessmen and entrepreneurs and, with the tools of organisation forged in a decade of political activity, performed extremely well. Others sought to disavow Marxism and parallel streams of revolutionary thought, seeking solace and refuge in that old, unfailing place of solace and refuge – religion. Others – quintessential political animals – shifted remarkably smoothly from radical to traditional politics, their gaze firmly affixed on the ultimate prize of the political kingdom. (2001, pp. ix–x) The post-mortem of the Grenada Revolution in the region has produced a discourse of ‘trauma’ in the scholarship (see Meeks, 2001; Reddock, 1982; Lamming, cited in Buhle, 1987). This occurrence is a result of the direct forces of external pressure on the region’s movements that sought alternative development routes as well as the internal conflicts that damaged Leftist organizations. The assassination of Left-wing political figures such as Maurice Bishop of Grenada, shortcomings of central planning in socialist-oriented models and the debt crisis of the late 1980s traumatized a generation of Caribbean people. Analyses of the Left in the Caribbean have become almost entirely historical and retrospective, and rarely interrogate contemporary Caribbean social, economic, political and cultural situations from a Leftist critique. Leftist scholarship has significantly gone out of favour in the Caribbean academy. Public education on the Left is limited and sporadic and appears to be taken up more consistently by scholars who 336

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reside outside of the Caribbean region. Fundamentally, most Leftist scholarship is not translated into concrete social organizing in the Anglophone Caribbean. While Left-wing political action is minimal and outside of the mainstream, the scholarship and conferences on the period have presented a new generation with the strength, successes, faults and lessons of the past. As a collective, the SSC did not start from ‘zero’ because of the highly reflective work that has already been done.

From empowerment through student activism to the enhancement of student life By the late 1990s, with the dissolution of the Left on the Caribbean political landscape, student activism on the Left equally withered at the UWI. Student clubs and associations are central to campus student life and politics, yet they are sporadic and not sustainably funded and administered. Generally, clubs at universities are divided into categories of academic, cultural, faith/ religious, general interest, political party wing, volunteer and welfare. On all three main campuses of the UWI, the vice-president of the Guild of Students is responsible for the oversight of student clubs, societies and associations; however, there is no explicit categorization of clubs in the Guild’s constitution or operating guidelines. At the UWI, Trinidad and Tobago, student organizations can be divided into faculty-based (e.g. Engineering Society, Psychology Students Association, etc.), Religious (e.g. Hindu Society of UWI, Catholic Students Movement), Social Advocacy (e.g. U.WE SPEAK, Transparency Youth Arm, etc). These categories were developed by the author. The Guild of Students does not have the varying student clubs and associations ordered by categories. Notably, a club or association can develop a more political character depending on the imperatives of the leadership of the point in time.

Challenges of sustainability Sustainability is the greatest challenge to the existence and continuity of clubs. For this reason, the literature on student political activism in the Caribbean highlights the political event and the leaders involved and not the organizations from which they emerge. Student organizations and movements are sporadic and highlight the unlikelihood and failure of a ‘permanent revolution’ on university campuses. Altbach (1989) argues that this may be due to both psychological and structural factors. Depending on the course load and the frequency of examinations, this determines the extent to which students can participate in extra-campus political life. Akins Vidale, former trade unionist and lecturer in Trinidad and Tobago is of the view that the UWI’s switch from the former year-long academic system to the US-based course credit and semester system was a deliberate attempt by the university administration to suppress student activism (author’s personal communication with Akins Vidale, 31 May 2017). Whether or not this was the intention of the university administration, student organizations face considerable difficulties in developing sustainable structures for organizing, transferring institutional memory, and recruiting new participants and leaders within one to two years. University graduates tend to occupy high status and legitimacy in political systems in both the global North and the global South. In the Caribbean, universities play a key role in shaping public opinion. Student leaders and their activism generates status because they help to shape national debates and conversation on development issues. Furthermore, to a large extent, postsecondary school education, especially academic achievement at the UWI in the Anglophone Caribbean, symbolizes the acquisition of the formerly scarce colonial resource, namely higher education and upward social mobility. 337

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The ‘massification’ of higher education in Trinidad and Tobago In 2004, the People’s National Movement administration introduced the Government Assistance for Tuition Expenses programme in order to expand access to higher education towards the national development of ‘First World status’ as outlined in the Vision 2020 plan. The number of students at the UWI St. Augustine campus has increased considerably since 2001. In the 2001/2002 academic year, 7,641 students were enrolled, but by 2013/2014, the campus student enrolment had reached a record high with 19,225 students. In 2019/2020, 16,126 students were enrolled at the university. The ‘massification’ (Luescher, 2016) and expansion of higher education for a privileged few has increased the number of lower-middle-class and working-class students in the university system. It is important to note that state-funded higher education development and democratization of access produce increased demands for accountability at the public-national level and internally in universities. Discourses of efficiencies and the ‘entrepreneurial university’ surface more sharply within this context. This trend in the Caribbean nuances scholarly discourse on the retreat of the state in higher education delivery that is constitutive of neoliberal governance. Caribbean states ensure multiple entanglements which include high public investment in the education sector and the application of neoliberal rationalities. As such, the pursuit of higher education is individualistic, although the resource is a public good. Student politics have been shaped by and respond to these forces; these processes inform the priorities of student government, the political approaches and ambitions of student clubs and, more importantly, the national political context. In this framework, education is ‘primarily valuable to human capital development, where human capital is what the individual, the business world, and the state seek to enhance in order to maximise competitiveness’ (Brown, 2015, p. 176). In Africa, data suggest that through the student wings of political parties, politicians influence the elections of student leaders and promote partisanship among the student body (Aggrey-Darkoh et al., 2016, p. 230). Interestingly, at the UWI, university student guild constitutions generally discourage explicit partisan political membership. It is not surprising, however, that with the growing number of students and the transformation of the campus population, ‘permanent students’ arise. This term refers to students who extend their time at universities, particularly in student leadership to profile themselves for participation in formal party politics: Mugume (2015) has shown the huge pressure on student leaders who aspire to become politicians to profile themselves and be credentialed as student leaders to qualify as political leaders. Student politics may thus become ‘captive’ to multi-party competition on, extreme partisanship and problematic clientelist relations. (Luescher, 2016, p. 35) On the contrary, at the UWI, student leaders are prohibited from formally becoming executive members of a political organization. However, their affiliations are informally understood, they caucus with party officials on public affairs, and see the student guild as a stepping-stone for later political ascendance. This form of political posturing has damaged student representation and consequently defined the nature of oppositional politics in relation to the governing party of the day as well as the political affiliations of the student leader. There is much focus in the literature on student political activism and the overarching influence of partisan national politics and its impact on the ‘balkanization of the student body’ (Onada, 2016, p. 81), but less attention is paid to careerism in non-partisan forms. Today, clubs

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largely reject public activism in the interest of narrowly focusing on career advancement within their particular industry. The increase in club participation and extra-curricular activities creates distinctions within the job market and make graduates more competitive in their applications internationally. University orientation programmes and open days encourage students to take up an activity in the interest of outperforming other candidates in a job interview in the future. The ‘CV building’ ethic of students and the semester system have pushed many to take up more project-based, instrumentalist, status-seeking extra-curricular activities rather than to pursue activist and progressive political and ideological endeavours.

A new Caribbean left: the case of the UWI Socialist Student Conference Against the background of relatively short-lived Left-wing student political activism at the UWI and the careerist ethic of student activists today, a nostalgia for political leadership outside of partisan politics and longer-term organizing and movement building has emerged. What does a vision of socialist and Left action look like without the preoccupation of using it to advance a political career? What role can students play in building a progressive socialist agenda and movement in the Caribbean? Using the work of the UWI SSC these questions are answered below. The SSC is a youth-led, socialist feminist education and political activist group based at the UWI St. Augustine campus. The group was established in 2015 after an open call to students to form such an association. Since then the group has emerged as the most prominent political activist student organization in Trinidad and Tobago and mounts frequent consciousness raising campaigns among university students (within and beyond the UWI community) and on social media. The SSC governance structure consists of a chairperson, a secretary, a treasurer, a public relations officer, a communications and publications officer and several committee chairpersons. The group’s name is an expression of its political values and organizing principles. The use of the word ‘conference’, rather than ‘association’ or ‘organization’ refers to the committee structure of the group and asserts its commitment to democratic principles and dialogue by the act of conferring within the executive and membership. The name is also reminiscent of previous social movements, for example, the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee and the Southern Christian Leadership Conference in the United States or the Marxist-inspired Committee of Women for Progress in Jamaica. Four key issues can be drawn from the above to offer insights to the new features of the Caribbean Left and strategies for building a socialist and student political movement: ideological pluralism; social media engagement; the archiving of Caribbean socialisms; and ‘one manism’.

Ideological pluralism The term ideological pluralism emerged in the Caribbean Left circles, with a special resonance in the Caribbean Community (CARICOM) countries, when socialists wanted to create diplomatic space for countries that did not toe the line on the United States. This became necessary as a result of competition between the two superpowers over the Third World. Unfortunately, this principle was not much subscribed to by the Left due to dogma and an inclination to write off critiques, especially that of Marxism-Leninism as bourgeois. The framework of ideological pluralism recognizes the spectrum of political perspectives and the commitment to dialogue. This concept was adopted by Leftist youth organizations in an attempt to prevent the ideological fighting sometimes associated with such groups (Lamb, 339

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2002, p. 256). For the SSC, the major ideological preoccupations of the members of the executive were Pan-Africanism through the lens of Rastafari, socialism in the context of public services and basic needs, cultural nationalists, anti-capitalism feminism, anti-homophobia politics and eco-feminism. The group encouraged unity of action and did not discourage multiplicity of political perspectives.

Social media engagement Online engagement and popular publications have enabled a new generation to access scholarship in easily readable formats that may be in libraries. Without engaging in a debate on the limitations of the form, creative commons and open access material have increasingly emerged as an agenda item for progressive students seeking to decolonize education, as seen in South Africa. The group also has a presence on social media platforms such as Instagram, Twitter and Facebook. An example of the potential of social media for organizing youth-led Caribbean political discussion was the Facebook live broadcast of the Second Annual Maurice Bishop Lecture, hosted by the SSC. While the event physically registered 24 attendees in the seminar room, the Facebook live broadcast gained 1,200 views, 24 shares and encouraged live feedback questions from online commentators to which panellists responded.

The archiving of Caribbean socialisms ‘Nostalgia for the future’ refers to the engagement with socialist and Leftist history for the explicit purpose of understanding the present day. The SSC hosts two annual Maurice Bishop lectures that address contemporary questions on the state of education in the Caribbean. The Maurice Bishop lecture series is an event held by the SSC in joint collaboration with the Grenada Students Association of Trinidad and Tobago. The first annual lecture was held on 13 March 2016 and featured a presentation by His Excellency Patrick Antoine, Grenada’s ambassador to CARICOM. He shared his experiences as a youth in Grenada at the time of the revolution and its impact on Caribbean integration. At the second annual lecture, the SSC invited Merle Hodge, author, socialist feminist activist and former UWI lecturer, to discuss her involvement in the Centre for Popular Education in the Grenada Revolution and her thoughts on the challenges of the education system in Trinidad and Tobago. The views purported at these events sometimes were in conflict with those of the ‘older heads’ (i.e. the previous generation of Leftists) who use such fora to assert their perspectives. The SSC encourages this engagement to develop knowledge exchange and intergenerational dialogue with the Left of yesterday, the ones of today and tomorrow.

‘One manism’ What does leadership on the Left look like if grounded in Caribbean feminist politics? ‘One manism’, a structure of personality-based, charismatic, and often male-driven leaders, has developed a masculinist character in the Caribbean political culture, including on the Left. Masculinism can be defined as an ‘ideology that justifies male domination’ (Ikeda, 2007, p. 112). The SSC is defined as a conference because it places less emphasis on central authority and more on promoting the conferring of multiple perspectives and interests in socialist movement building. Additionally, the group embraces feminism as a central principle of the organization. This is illustrated in the debates within the group on whether or not they are ‘feminist socialist’ or ‘socialist feminist’ in an attempt to determine the extent to which they are 340

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invested in challenging male dominance and patriarchal power. Raegan Gibbings, the founding chairperson of the SSC says: As a young socialist woman leader, I have been inspired by women leaders in history who have long contributed to radical politics and who were crucial pillars in creating revolutionary moments. Women such as Amy Garvey, Jacqueline Creft and Elma Francois have mapped revolutionary courses for young women like myself; they connected their visions for social justice with the empowerment of women and challenging the status quo. Their struggles, though very different from mine, speak to the unrecognized labour of women activists on the Left. They participated in the male-dominated realm of public politics fearlessly. This is a reminder of my responsibility to challenge patriarchy head on. Selfdevelopment and care are important to my sense of leadership, patience too. We need to value this in our movement building. (Author’s personal communication with Raegan Gibbings, 31 May 2017) These comments express a commitment by Gibbings to challenge a common shortcoming of Left-wing movements of the previous generation. The exclusion of women’s issues and masculinist resistances to their leadership on the Left has received attention in recent Caribbean scholarship (Bolles, 2011; Boyce Davies, 2008; Peake, 2011; Phillip, 2000). She puts forward a socialist feminist perspective on movement building that reclaims women leaders in Caribbean historiography and emulation, values the labour of women in revolutionary social movements and highlights the significance of the personal and care for oneself as a political practice.

Conclusion In conclusion, the history of Leftist student organizing and the continuity of the political symbolism of the 1968–1971 student movements at the UWI today provides references for Leftist political change to a new generation of student activists. The example of the UWI SSC illustrates the attempts of an organization to challenge the dominant discourses about students and perform a ‘new’ idea of what a ‘student’ is and ‘student life’. It speaks to the transformative potential of activism in the Caribbean academy. Through mentorship by faculty and an intellectual-activist coordination by graduate students, the SSC can cultivate a relevant, student-led and politically empowered voice for the students at the university, and at the national and regional level. However, leadership planning and sustainability need to be integrated into student organizations for their efforts to continue. The Caribbean Left has long emphasized political mobilizations and the acquisition of state power. Leftist politics in Caribbean political culture have been short-lived. Against neoliberal governance, there is a void in Leftist alternatives on social and economic development. Progressive civil society can play a crucial role in driving public debate and policy decisionmaking. Community-based Leftist activism can achieve gains at the local level to enhance their legitimacy at the national and regional level. For example, the feminist consciousness raising campaigns on gender-based violence on campus led to solidarity actions with the Caribbean feminist movement, such as Life in Leggings in Barbados and local marches in Trinidad and Tobago. Finally, although the membership of the SSC is small, their politics shows the potential for student empowerment in political leadership. The emphasis on the intersectionality of issues, particularly on gender justice, represents the current political demands of students in the global movement for social justice. Small island states should embrace these movements to enhance 341

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the internal democracy of the society and contribute to the global dialogue on development alternatives from their standpoint. To effectively respond to neoliberalism’s modes of governance and rationalities, a (re)politicized force for progressive and radical social change is required in civil society at all levels, including among students at universities.

References Aggrey-Darkoh, E. V. and Gyampo. R. (2016). Politicisation of the National Union of Ghana Students and its Effects on Student Representation. In T. M. Luescher, M. Klemencic and J.O. Jowi (Eds), Student Politics in Africa: Representation and Activism (pp. 224–243). Cape Town: African Minds. Altbach, P. (1989). Perspectives on Student Political Activism. Comparative Education, 25(1), 97–110. Bolles, L. (2011). Trade Unionism: A Woman’s Perspective. In V. A. Shepherd (Ed.), Engendering Caribbean History: Cross-Cultural Perspectives (pp. 627–641). Kingston: Ian Randle Publishers. Boyce Davies, C. (2008). Left of Karl Marx: The Political Life of Black Communist Claudia Jones. Durham, NC and London: Duke University Press. Brown, W. (2015). Undoing the Demos: Neoliberalism’s Stealth Revolution. Zone Books. Buhle, P. (1992). C.L.R. James: West Indian. George Lamming Interviewed by Paul Buhle. In P. Henry and P. Buhle (Eds), CLR James’s Caribbean (p. 33). Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Burns, M., and Ellsworth, F. L. (2009). Student Activism in American Higher Education. Washington, DC: American College Personnel Association. Charles, H., and Jameson-Charles, M. (2014). Youth Development Policy and Practice in the Commonwealth Caribbean: A Historical Evolution. Social and Economic Studies, 63(3/4), 23–58. Gonsalves, R. (2010). The Making of ‘The Comrade’: The Political Journey of Ralph Gonsalves. St Vincent: SFI Books. Griffith, I. L. (2015). The Quest for Security in the Caribbean: Problems and Promises in Subordinate States. London: Routledge. Hall, S. (1996). The Problem of Ideology: Marxism without Guarantees. In D. Morley and K. H. Chen (Eds), Stuart Hall: Critical Dialogues in Cultural Studies (pp. 25–46). London: Routledge. Ikeda, S. (2007). Masculinity and Masculinism under Globalization: Reflections on the Canadian Case. In M. Griffin Cohen and J. Brodie (Eds), Remapping Gender in the New Global Order (pp. 111–130). London: Routledge. ˇ ˇ M. (2014). Student Power in a Global Perspective and Contemporary Trends in Student Klemencic, Organising. Studies in Higher Education, 39(3), 396–411. Lamb, M. (2002). Young Conservatives, Young Socialists and the Great Youth Abstention: Youth Participation and Non-Participation in Political Parties. PhD thesis. University of Birmingham. Lewis, G. (2010). On Race, Class and Ideology in the Caribbean. Kingston: Ian Randle Publishers. Luescher, T. M. (2016). Student Representation in a Context of Democratization and Massification in Africa: Analytical Approaches, Theoretical Perspectives and #RhodesMustFall. In T. M. Luescher, M. Klemencic and J. O. Jowi (Eds), Student Politics in Africa: Representation and Activism (27–60). Cape Town: African Minds. Maingot, A. P. (2015). Race, Ideology and the Decline of Caribbean Marxism. Miami: University of Florida Press. Mars, P. (1998). Ideology and Change: The Transformation of the Caribbean Left. Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press. Meeks, B. (2001). Introduction: On the Bump of a Revival. In B. Meeks and F. Lindahl (Eds), New Caribbean Thought: A Reader (pp. viii–xx). Kingston: University of the West Indies Press. Onada, I. (2016). The Evolving Nature of Student Participation in University Governance in Africa: An Overview of Policies, Trends and Emerging Issues. In T. M. Luescher, M. Klemencic and J. O. Jowi (Eds), Student Politics in Africa: Representation and Activism (pp. 61–84). Cape Town: African Minds. Pantin, S., and Peters, D. (2013). The Guild of Students at the University of the West Indies, St. Augustine, 1962–2012. Kingston: University of the West Indies Press. Peake, L. (2011). The Development and Role of Women’s Political Organisations in Guyana. In V. A. Shepherd (Ed.), Engendering Caribbean History: Cross-Cultural Perspectives (pp. 642–662). Kingston: Ian Randle Publishers. Phillip, N. (2000). Caterpillar Dead, Butterfly Born: Women in the Grenada Revolution, 1979–1983. Paper presented at Staff/Graduate Student Seminar, 19 May. University of the West Indies, St. Augustine Campus, Kingston. 342

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Reddock, R. (1982). Popular Movement to ‘Mass Organization’: The Case of the National Women’s Organization of Grenada (NWO) 1979–1983. Paper presented at the ISS/FLACSO Seminar on the Objectives and Margins of State Intervention, Quito, 5–12 September. Rohlehr, G. (1995). The Dilemma of the West Indian Academic in 1970. In R. Selwyn and Stewart, T. (Eds), The Black Power Revolution 1970: A Retrospective. Kingston: University of the West Indies, Institute of Social and Economic Research. Sunshine, C. A. (1985). The Caribbean: Survival, Struggle and Sovereignty. Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. Westmaas, N. (2009). 1968 and the Social and Political Foundations and Impact of New Politics in Guyana, Caribbean Studies, 37(2), 105–132.

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24 Unfrozen conflicts Social movements and civil society in Cyprus Michalis Moutselos

Introduction The objective of this chapter is to trace the development of civil society and social movements in Cyprus and to identify key actors and periods over the last 50 years. It serves as a review of primary and secondary sources on the topic that is lacking in the extant literature on Cypriot politics and society. The chapter also provides tentative answers to a number of research questions: do Cypriot civil society actors and social movements reproduce the most salient cleavages of the island’s politics, namely the predominantly materialist left-right cleavage and the positioning on the Cyprus problem? Are civil society organizations (CSOs) and activists instead exploring new arenas of activity/contentious action, for instance with regard to postmaterialist issues, such as environmentalism, women’s rights and the rights of migrants? The chapter also highlights a number of issues, frames and repertoires that are more prevalent in Cypriot collective action compared to other countries, for instance the (understandable) fascination with borders/space and memory. A note on the scope and limitations of this chapter is needed. I focus here on civil society and social movements in the Greek Cypriot government-controlled Republic of Cyprus and limit the time frame to the period after 1974. Since that year the northern part of the island has been occupied by the Turkish army and has been ruled as a self-proclaimed state recognized only by Türkiye (formerly Turkey). The island and its capital, Nicosia, are thus divided along an internal border and United Nations-controlled buffer zone called the ‘Green Line’. This frozen and intractable conflict has had repercussions, as we shall see, on opportunities for collective mobilization, the unfrozen conflicts, so to speak, in the Republic of Cyprus (for a discussion of civil society and social movements in the North, see CIVICUS, 2005, 2011). For the sake of brevity, whenever I use the terms ‘Cyprus’ or ‘Cypriot’ in this chapter, I refer to the Republic of Cyprus and to Greek Cypriots, unless otherwise noted. The chapter begins with a summary of arguments that ask why civil society and collective mobilization are underdeveloped in Cyprus and attempts a moderate critique of these arguments based on the standard social movement literature and empirical evidence. It then provides a historical overview of civil society initiatives since 1974. The main springboards of mobilization, anti-government protest and the Cyprus problem are covered, in addition to

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more recent movements on post-materialist issues that challenge the established dividing lines of Cypriot society. The chapter ends with a discussion of the effects of the country’s small size on civil society and social movements, applying the broader themes covered in this volume.

The conventional wisdom: atrophy of collective action and its causes Cypriot academic and popular discourse often highlights the ‘atrophy’ of civil society (Mavratsas, 2003) and a related absence of a culture of contention and confrontation. Activists of varying political stripes are quick to bemoan the lack of combativeness in the country’s contentious politics, especially when compared to the mass-scale and tumultuous mobilization in Greece, a country with which Cyprus shares strong cultural and political ties. An analysis of earlier rounds of the European Social Survey confirmed political apathy and ‘couch activism’ to be prevalent among the general population (Katsourides, 2013). In a similar vein, Triga and Papa (2015) suggest that whenever mobilization does occur, it crystallizes around ‘banal’ collective grievances, usually in opposition to the government or loosely defined international enemies, but without ideological coherence. At the same time, the republic features, by the standards of other wealthy, post-industrial European economies, rather strong unions, such as the left-wing Pancyprian Federation of Labour (PEO) and the right-wing Cyprus Workers Confederation (SEK) (affiliated with the two main political parties, Anorthotiko Komma Ergazomenou Laou (AKEL – Progressive Party of the Working People) and Dimokratikos Synagermos (DISY – Democratic Rally). Along with a cornucopia of non-governmental organizations (NGOs) they paint a more nuanced picture of Cypriot civil society; it is perhaps more accurate to conclude that Cyprus has not produced sustained, large-scale movements on post-materialist issues (the environment, women’s rights, anti-racism, LGBTQI+ rights, etc.), often described as ‘New Social Movements’ (Offe, 1985). The scale of protest is smaller, networks are more informal and less professionalized, repertoires are not necessarily as coherent and modular as in other European countries and radical tactics are rare. The absence of large-scale mobilization in the country’s recent past makes it difficult for contemporary movements to make references to earlier victories. If there was ever a cycle of grassroots organization in Cyprus, it was the anti-colonial, pro-independence movement against British rule in the 1950s, and not a local version of the swinging 1960s. In fact, between 1955 and 1974, the island was in an intermittent state of turmoil and violent conflicts. Nevertheless, the sections that follow demonstrate that, in the last 25 years, Cypriot civil society and activism have exhibited increasing dynamism and sophistication. It might thus be time to challenge the view of a weak civil society and an underdeveloped field of social movements. From an institutional perspective, Cyprus has a relatively open political opportunity structure (McAdam et al., 1996) for access of non-party actors to pressure, deliberation and participation in decision-making. The republic is a free electoral democracy, according to independent observers such as the Freedom House and the V-Dem Institute. Since 2004, it has been a member of the European Union (EU), one that has consistently – if with varying zeal – implemented the European acquis while its citizens have access to EU resources and networks. Domestically, the proportional electoral system for parliamentary elections allows multi-party representation and fosters consensual politics. In addition, the presence of key independent policy actors, such as the auditor general and the ombudsman, and high-profile local politicians, such as the mayor of Nicosia, also provide CSOs and social movements with multiple entry points. 345

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What then may dampen efforts for grassroots mobilization and lead to an impression of atrophy? In many ways, institutional openness is compromised by the concentrated powers of the presidency, which is by far the most important political prize (Ker-Lindsay, 2006). Furthermore, consensual politics – when taken to the extreme in a small country like Cyprus – stifle meaningful accountability, because everyone interacts and is entangled with everyone in a web of real or imagined favours, a system which Faustmann (2009) calls the ‘Cyprus consensus’. In another piece Faustmann (2010) argues that patronage and clientelism (rusfeti) permeate large sections of the public sector and semi-governmental organizations. The small size of the electorate facilitates, in this view, an all-encompassing (and costly) colonization of civil society, in which political parties play an especially important role. Cypriot political parties across the republic’s party system have nurtured ancillary structures (youth groups, unions, women’s groups, sports clubs) and acted as powerful linkages between civil society and the administrative/parliamentary institutions. Aside from the institutional impediments, it is perhaps the Cypriot discursive opportunity structure (Koopmans and Statham, 1999) that acts as the biggest constraint on an independent civil society and contentious politics. Ethno-national unity (among Greek Cypriots) has been discursively hegemonic post-1974, while divisive, contentious politics are suspicious diversions in a polity in a permanent, if latent, state of emergency. The ethno-nationalist discourse, often supported by the influential Greek Orthodox Church of Cyprus, has been more conducive to some forms of contentious collective action than others – it is, for instance, compatible with commemoration and mobilization against the Turkish occupation, but hostile to mobilization for bicommunal (Greek Cypriot and Turkish Cypriot) rapprochement and sceptical about postmaterialist issues. Indeed, it often appears that the latter are associated with political and social forces that advocate Cypriotism, an ideology promoting an autonomous pan-Cypriot identity and political independence from Greece (and Türkiye) (Mavratsas, 1997). In a nutshell, activists often feel obliged by the aforementioned discursive environment to position themselves vis-àvis the Cyprus problem or they are, sometimes unwittingly, framed in terms of the Cyprus problem. This leads to interesting and creative frame extensions/frame bridging (Benford and Snow, 2000), but seriously subordinates other issues to the ethno-national question.1

Signs of vigour The development of Cypriot civil society, the web of associations that develops independently from the state and the market, is difficult to trace historically, owing to a lack of systematic data. Cypriot society after 1974 certainly experienced urbanization on a grand scale, which was both chosen, for economic reasons, and forced, as part of internal displacement. Traditional village communities shrank in size at a fast pace and only sporadic festivities organized by descendants of village residents (for instance, on major religious holidays) offer glimpses of their former importance. One legacy of that pre-urban period is the Cypriot cooperative movement (synergatismos). Cyprus developed a robust system of cooperatives during the 20th century to protect the agricultural population against usury. Cooperatives were encouraged by the British authorities and contributed to the modernization of agricultural practices. Housing cooperatives and credit unions also provided assistance to Cypriot refugees in the aftermath of the 1974 partition of the island (Georgis, 2015). Following accession to the EU in 2004 and, in particular, the 2013 financial crisis, cooperatives were forced to consolidate and eventually sell their assets. At the time of writing, numerous trade and labour unions were in negotiations to revive a financial cooperative (Phileleftheros, 2022). 346

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Perhaps the most remarkable mobilization of post-independence Cypriot civil society took place during the difficult months and years that followed the 1974 events and division of the island. Individual volunteers (doctors, teachers, dieticians), unions and charitable foundations assisted in the Herculean task of accommodating the 200,000 displaced Cypriots that was coordinated by state- and UN-led agencies. Another durable legacy of that period is the proliferation of refugee associations with a very visible presence especially (but not exclusively) in refugee settlements of Cypriot cities and even among the Cypriot diaspora. These associations (prosfigika somatia) have become veritable ‘institutions of memory’ (Bryant, 2012, p. 344) of the occupied towns and villages in the northern part of the country. They organize a host of political, cultural and sports-related activities and help to retain a sense of continuity among refugee families. The rich social capital of refugee associations, borne out of tragedy, has been too potent for political parties to ignore. Much like the associations of the relatives of the missing (see below), refugee associations have often been entangled with political patronage networks. To go back to the present day and from a comparative perspective, the ‘atrophy’ thesis is only partly confirmed by the available data. Standard international surveys (Eurobarometer, the European Social Survey and the World Values Survey) record relatively low levels of interpersonal trust among Cypriot citizens compared to the EU/European average.2 The European Social Survey also reveals average levels of participation in public demonstrations and work for an organization or association, with Cyprus typically faring better than Eastern European and Southern European countries in these standard social capital indicators, but lagging behind Northern and Western Europe.3 A 2010 survey of the European Commission found that a comparatively limited share of adult Cypriots (10–19 per cent) carried out voluntary activities, but also noted two important and established associations that fund and organize volunteering, the Pancyprian Volunteerism Coordinative Council and the Cyprus Youth Organization (GHK 2010). Of course, the small size of the island and the relative absence of tax-related and other financial incentives to formally recognize CSOs may mean that existing networks of mutual assistance and pressure have operated informally and are not ‘typical’ as discussed in established bibliography on civil society. This tendency towards informality might be waning. A 2005 CIVICUS report found that CSOs in Cyprus suffered from limitations in funding (at that time coming mostly from parties and the state) which compromised their independence, organizational development and overall societal impact (CIVICUS, 2005). However, in the following decade legal provisions for CSOs and especially NGOs became the object of protracted deliberations, which led to a modernization of the legal framework in 2017, stipulated stricter conditions for internal accounting and decision-making, and opened up alternative – European and corporate – sources of funding. The 2011 CIVICUS report also found that membership of trade unions and professional associations is high, because in many cases membership for employees is compulsory. Some examples include the public sector, the construction industry, the banking sector and the professional associations of accountants, doctors, lawyers and engineers (CIVICUS, 2011). Sports clubs and associations play a particularly important (and sometimes politically outsized) role in Cypriot civil society and enjoy the largest membership along with health-related associations. The central role of trade/labour unions in Cypriot economy and society is hard to overstate, even if it seems to be declining. When the country joined the EU in 2004 more than 70 per cent of employees were covered by collective bargaining, according to some estimates. This figure has recently declined to around 50 per cent (European Trade Union Institute, 2021), but it remains relatively high. Collective bargaining was codified in 1977 through the Industrial Relations Code and it reflects an entrenched tripartite framework for resolutions of labour 347

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disputes. Representatives of the main trade unions (PEO, SEK and the Pancyprian Public Employees Trade Union) exert a highly visible influence on negotiations with employers and the government; strong ties with political parties often soften their demands and lead to compromises. The financial crisis of 2012 led to ‘disorganized decentralization’, and decreases in union density and coverage of collective bargaining (Ioannou and Sonan, 2019). Immigrants and young workers are more likely to find themselves excluded from union representation. Overall, the impression of an anaemic civil society in Cyprus owes much to a high degree of politicization and informality, but it is perhaps exaggerated. Professionalization has taken place at a fast pace in recent years through the operation of a number of NGOs. Indeed, along with the oversized influence of political parties, an incipient NGOization of civil society could challenge the grassroots pedigree and erode the legitimacy of CSOs. To capture a fuller picture of Cypriot civil society, additional original research is needed on church-affiliated organizations, consumer protection groups, associations stemming from the Cypriot ethnic communities (Maronites, Armenians, Lebanese and Russians) and leisure/lifestyle clubs catering to the increasingly sophisticated needs of the middle class.

The main springboards of protest in Cyprus Until 2004 and the failed attempt to end the Cyprus conflict, activism in the republic was mostly concerned with this thorny issue. Shortly after 1974, a number of well-organized and often quite spectacular mobilizations protested against the division of the island and used the spatial divide as a backdrop to their repertoires. One of them was Women Return, the antioccupation women’s movement; on three occasions hundreds of Cypriot women marched into occupied territories (1975, 1987, 1989) before they were stopped by peacekeeping and occupying troops (Demetriou and Hadjipavlou, 2018). Another notable anti-occupation mobilization was organized by the Cyprus Motorcycle Federation: in 1996, thousands of motorcyclists began their ride in Berlin, crossed the continent and headed towards the occupied area near Famagusta. The protest ended tragically with the murder of two Cypriots as they attempted to break into the zone controlled by the Turkish army. The events have been commemorated ever since and the motorcyclists have enjoyed more symbolic and political capital in Cypriot society than elsewhere. Anti-occupation marches have also been consistently organized by high school and university students in Cyprus proper (notably in 1990, in the aftermath of the arrest of a high school student by the Turkish army), Greece and the United Kingdom. The slogan ‘Δεν Ξεχν ’ (‘I do not forget’) has served as a widely used prognostic and motivational frame for the anti-occupation movements (Papadakis, 1993). Perhaps the most notable example of mobilization as commemoration of suffering and victimhood was carried out by the families of the missing after the 1974 war. Dressed in black and carrying photos of their missing children, Cypriot mothers gathered at checkpoints near the buffer zone for several years after 1974 demanding information from the Turkish occupying forces. Their protest reflected similar ones in other parts of the world, such as Las Madres de la Plaza de Mayo in Argentina (Kovras, 2017); the subsequent organization of parents and relatives achieved major political influence domestically and among the Cypriot diaspora, and marked the transformation of the movement into a powerful interest group. In the early 2000s and on the occasion of the 2004 referendum to unify the island some members of the families broadened their mobilization efforts to include relatives of the missing from the Turkish Cypriot side (Kovras, 2017, pp. 162–164). The bicommunal movement for peace, reconciliation and the eventual reunification of the island has sought to provide grassroots alternatives to the failed high-level negotiations in what 348

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has been called ‘Track II diplomacy’. Politically, it has often been seen as the counterpoint to aforementioned anti-occupation protests, in the sense that, while it also seeks reunification, it aims to achieve this by jointly promoting empathy, compromise and especially cooperation aiming towards (ultimately) lifting the divide. It is perhaps the best-known Cypriot movement internationally due the promise it has held as a mechanism of conflict resolution. Until the mid-1980s, the internal border was tightly guarded and heavily militarized and very few contacts existed between the island’s two main communities. Bicommunal initiatives emerged in the late 1980s and early 1990s, but were small in scale and were often castigated as foreignfunded meddlers by political parties and mainstream media (Hadjipavlou, 2004; Vogel, 2015). The formation of a bicommunal civil society and the emergence of vocal bicommunal protest groups culminated in the period before 2004, when a UN reunification proposal known as the Annan Plan provided a major opening in the political opportunity structure. Around the same time the establishment of several crossings on the Green Line and (relative) freedom of movement intensified contacts and facilitated more frequent and efficient inter-communal organization, which persisted even after the general secretary’s plan to reunite the island was rejected by the majority of Cypriots. Meetings, workshops, performances and a host of other bicommunal initiatives took place (Papadakis, 2006, pp. 172–175), coupled with programmes that involved small- and medium- sized enterprises. Many initiatives were funded or organized by the UN Development Programme, the European Commission and the US Agency for International Development (Jarraud at el., 2013), a dependence which has sometimes caused ambivalence among the general population. It has also undermined, it could be argued, the mission of the bicommunal movement to increase grassroots participation and act as a paradigmatic social force for conflict resolution and rapprochement. One recent initiative, ‘Unite Cyprus Now’ (UCN) mobilized activists from both communities in 2017, as another round of high-level talks was taking place in Crans-Montana, Switzerland. UCN organized protests around the Ledras Street/Lokmaci crossing point and sought to undermine the master ‘I do not forget’ frame with the counter-frame ‘I remember. I forgive. I move on’. The movement also took on a distinctive digital identity with the hashtag #unitecyprusnow inspiring various memes and counter-memes (Themistocleous, 2021). UCN has been perhaps the most noteworthy recent attempt to sustain and even instil innovations into the bicommunal movement south of the Green Line, but the recent COVID-19 pandemicrelated restrictions and the post-Crans-Montana stalemate in official negotiations have taken the wind out of the movement’s sails. Aside from mobilizing around the Cyprus problem, Cypriots have also, especially recently, developed a predilection for direct ad hoc protests against government policies, when these are perceived as hurting special economic or local interests or targeting specific groups. At the time of writing, and in what is a fairly typical occurrence, livestock farmers were protesting against inflation in front of the President’s Palace in the capital; one day, they set hay on fire and a number of arrests followed. During the period of COVID-19 restrictions large groups of protesters often gathered at the same spot to protest against the government’s measures. More generally, such protests take place in front of the relevant government body/ministry and not in an iconic square or other urban space. They are sometimes (but not often) transformed from particularistic to generalized anti-government demonstrations. Perhaps the most acute anti-government flare-ups took place after the explosion at the Mari Naval Base in 2011. The destruction was caused by the self-detonation of ammunition and other military explosives and resulted in 13 deaths, 62 injuries and the destruction of the largest power facility on the island. The accident was immediately perceived as gross negligence by the political and military authorities and large-scale demonstrations in the capital ensued. During 349

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one demonstration riotous groups broke off from the main body of protesters and headed towards the President’s Palace where they were apprehended in a violent confrontation with the police. The events were pivotal not only because of their scale, but also because they formed a very potent anti-government, negative coalition that turned against the first (and so far only) Cypriot communist President, Dimitris Christofias of AKEL (Charalambous and Ioannou, 2015). The acute economic crisis of 2012–2013 could have provided a major turning point for Cypriot social movements. During the broader eurozone crisis the Cypriot financial system came close to collapsing. An increase in contentious acts against the government’s planned austerity measures and the EU-imposed bail-in of depositors had the potential of triggering organized reactions, similar to the Spanish Indignados or Greek Aganaktismenoi (‘the Enraged’). For example, the Kinima Enantia stis Ekpiiseis (Movement Against Evictions) attracted broad support domestically and internationally from similar movements across Europe. However, as Charalambous and Ioannou (2017) demonstrate, protests were relatively muted in numbers and intensity compared to those in other Southern European countries. They attribute this to the persistence of consensus for non-radical solutions among all Cypriot parties, unions and civil society actors combined with ‘inclusive clientelism’ (Charalambous and Ioannou, 2017, p. 107) that nipped radicalization in the bud. One could argue that the closest equivalent of Indignados/Aganaktismenoi in Cyprus were indeed the aforementioned Mari protests and that Cyprus did not participate in the mobilizational cycle that gripped Southern Europe against austerity (see also Vogiatzoglou, 2017). Still, the clientelist characteristics of the political system and collusion among all major political parties have not gone entirely unchallenged from below. In October 2020, an Al Jazeera investigative documentary revealed that a network of politicians, lawyers, real estate developers and other fixers had conspired to sell the country’s golden passport programme to would-be investors, with minimal due diligence and using high-level political connections and bribery. The ensuing uproar and spontaneous protests outside the Parliament provided glimpses of a broad anti-corruption coalition of civil society actors and led to a small number of high-profile resignations. The October 2020 protests also paved the way to arguably the largest march in Nicosia in decades. Organized by the umbrella organization Os Dhame (‘That’s Enough’), and further fuelled by the imposition of measures to curb the spread of COVID-19 and heavy-handed police tactics, the movement drew for a short period the support of large segments of Cypriot society (Evangelou, 2021). The dynamism of the movement eventually dissipated, after it sustained attacks from mainstream parties owing to its associations with the extra-parliamentary left and failure to overcome internal disagreements. At the same time, the scale of the protests, the interest they incited among Cypriot youth, the more programmatic nature of their cahier des doleances compared to previous anti-government protests, the ‘Democracy 2.0’ flavour of the coalition, and the innovative use of social media could prove significant for the future of collective mobilization in Cyprus (see also the assessment by Charalambous, 2022).

The slow but visible ascendance of post-materialist issues Os Dhame emphasized its opposition to government corruption and linked it to the Cyprus problem (‘Corruption is Partition’ ran one of its popular slogans). But it also acted as an umbrella movement for a host of activist groups concerned with post-materialist issues. The salience of such issues in Cypriot society has increased considerably in recent decades, along with the visibility and organizational sophistication of activists, even as they face the scepticism 350

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of the main left-wing party AKEL, which prefers centrally organized, class-based action. The extra-parliamentary left often acts as an environment of fermentation and coalescence of such movements,4 while liberal professionals spearhead more professionalized associations. When it comes to the development of a sustained, philosophically and ideologically coherent environmental/ecology movement the picture is still mixed. For instance, Cypriot youth were somewhat slow to join the global Fridays for Future movement that saw high schoolers across the world march for climate change (but see the account of the fledgling Youth for Climate Cyprus in Theodorou et al., 2021). The most successful grassroots initiative is the movement that opposes the touristic exploitation of the Akamas forest and wildlife region at the northwest extremity of the island. The ‘Save Akamas’ 2015 campaign utilized a variety of repertoires (the usual protests in front of the President’s Palace and the Parliament, but also petitions, concerts and digital campaigns), achieving rare large-scale publicity and ultimately succeeding in postponing development plans (Papaioannou, 2022). To be sure, numerous and sustained protest actions opposing infrastructural or industrial projects often take place in front of involved ministries, such as the protests against the relocation of an asphalt plant to Mitsero village, or the reopening of a mine in Mathiatis. Some of these protests resemble Not In My Back Yard (NIMBY) actions rather than movements, while others employ more general frames and mobilize broader alliances. The general point made by Kousis et al. (2008) for Southern Europe may apply to the Cypriot case as well, namely that environmental protest is frequent, but is local/regional in nature, more reactive than proactive and based on community groups rather than professional organizations. The movement for LGBQTI+ rights in Cyprus has also grown and achieved notable successes in recent years. Members of the gay community began to organize in the early 1980s through the efforts of trailblazing activist Alecos Modinos who also resorted to the European Court of Human Rights (Kamenou et al., 2019). The 1993 ruling against the government (Modinos v. Cyprus) led to the decriminalization of same-sex sexual contact in the South and served as a template for the strategic use of international norms, laws, resources and allies on the part of Cypriot activists. The efforts led, in 2010, to the first registered group, LGBTIAccept Cyprus (Accept) and to the first Cyprus Pride in 2014 (Kamenou et al., 2019; Kamenou, 2020), despite rigorous opposition from the Orthodox Church. A similar gradual maturation and expansion can be observed in the development of women’s and feminist movements. The conventional view, as expressed by Hadjipavlou (2010), holds that the predominance of the national question in the Cypriot public sphere has reproduced patriarchal leitmotivs and stifled autonomous mobilization for women’s emancipation. Interestingly, some of the most important incidents of women’s protest have been inextricably linked with the Cyprus problem. We have already mentioned the actions of the anti-occupation movement Women Return, which had a more ethnonational (Cypriot) character. On the other hand, the feminist group Hands Across the Divide that was founded in 2002 connected feminist principles and conflict resolution in Cyprus and staged several protests in cooperation with other bicommunal movements (Hadjipavlou, 2010; Kamenou, 2020). More recently, several independent women’s groups or organizations defending women’s rights have attempted a decoupling of feminist initiatives from the national question. A number of professionalized NGOs, such as the Mediterranean Institute for Gender Studies, the Cyprus Family Planning Association and the Association for the Prevention and Handling of Violence in the Family consistently organize and publicize their advocacy for gender equality and women’s rights. More radical feminist groups, such as Kores Xapolites (Barefooted Women) have organized protests and performances at landmark urban spaces in Nicosia such as Eleftheria Square and Faneromeni Square.5 Aside from using innovative and sometimes disruptive 351

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repertoires and the reinterpreting public spaces, these groups have also engaged in more explicitly transnational activism for instance in the context of global ‘reclaim the night’ or ‘you are the rapist’ campaigns. In the latter case, a feminist group staged a performance outside the Archbishop’s Palace and the Ministry of Justice on the occasion of International Women’s Day. The latest addition to Cypriot new social movements is activism defending immigrant rights. Cyprus is no stranger to human mobility: the Cypriot diaspora is very large and reflects the island’s history as a point of emigration. In the island itself hundreds of thousands share the experience of internal displacement. In recent decades, successive years of economic growth, a relaxation of immigration policy in the 1990s, EU accession and the conflict-induced crises in the Middle East and North Africa region have transformed Cyprus into a country of immigration. Some immigrant groups, for instance domestic helpers, manual workers, asylum seekers and the undocumented live in a precarious position with minimal rights and facing increasing opposition from far-right groups (Trimikliniotis and Demetriou, 2017). In response, advocacy groups against racism and for immigrant rights have increased in size and visibility. Perhaps the most influential has been the Movement for Equality, Support, Anti-racism (KISA), which has developed a multi-pronged strategy typical of recently minted activist networks. KISA has mobilized grassroots initiatives to provide services to immigrants, asylum seekers and refugees in need; it has tapped into discursive, legal and financial resources from Europe; and it has used highly mediatized and sometimes confrontational tactics to raise awareness about the problem (Nicolaou and Papadakis, 2020). Another association that has done much to publicize the plight of migrants is the Cyprus STOP Trafficking group; aside from their advocacy work they have actively assisted sexual and forced labour trafficking victims during the processing of their demands by the Cypriot state (Cyprus Mail, 2017). At the same time, mobilization against immigration has appeared, driven by far-right activists affiliated with the political party Ethniko Laiko Metopo (ELAM – National People’s Front) and NIMBY-like protests, such as the one that took place in Aglandjia, a suburb of Nicosia, in 2020 to protest against the opening of a centre for vulnerable migrants. Overall, activist groups, CSOs and, more broadly, social movements that seek justice for issues other than the Cyprus conflict or materialist concerns have proliferated in the aftermath of EU accession and the Annan Plan referendums. Their advocacy and agenda setting offer opportunities for reshaping the political system and superseding existing cleavages. However, they are prone to internal divisions and tactical mistakes that make them easy targets for powerful established actors (parties, unions, existing CSOs). Their long-term influence on the island’s politics remain to be seen.

Implications of the Cypriot case for small states The small size of the country has a number of repercussions for Cypriot civil society and social movements. First, global elements of protest are often suffused with local ones: the diffusion of frames, slogans and repertoires from abroad into Cyprus often occurs as part and parcel of public moral outrage towards local events that expose severe negligence by the public authorities. As already noted, the demonstrations following the Mari explosion allowed protesters to use, rhetorically, the term ‘Aganaktismenoi’ (‘the Enraged’) that was common in Southern Europe at the time; in another case, in 2019, intense public interest in the murders of female foreigners and their children committed by a Cypriot serial killer fuelled demands for women’s and immigrant rights. Relatedly, mobilization in the republic often takes place at the tail end of a transnational protest cycle. The advent of transnational movements and campaigns, especially on post352

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materialist issues, is predicated upon diffusion from larger countries, for instance from Greece or the UK. This was, for instance, the case with the #MeToo movement, whereby the revelations of sexual harassment by Greek Olympic medallist Sofia Bekatorou sparked similar accusations by Cypriot athlete Andri Eleftheriou before the movement assumed a self-sustaining dynamic. Third, legal and financial support on the part of the EU for what is, after all, an EU member state (albeit a small one) means that a lot of associations and social movements in Cyprus are tempted to turn themselves into NGOs and invest in EU resource mobilization rather than grassroots organization. In this regard, foreign embassies have proved to be important allies – for instance, the German embassy in Nicosia has co-organized queer festivals with the LGBTQI+ community. This may also explain why civil society and social movements are heavily concentrated in the capital, Nicosia, while the rural regions of the country exhibit lower levels of (formal) civic engagement. The high degree of concentration also helps to explain why a lot of CSOs in Cyprus belong to or are supported by federations, umbrella groups and other support networks (CIVICUS, 2011). Interestingly, the use of common spaces by different civil society actors, such as the Home for Cooperation (a community centre located inside the Green Line which regularly hosts civil society initiatives), often fuels the popular perception that ‘everyone knows everyone’ in the activist milieu. Leaving the spatial connotations of anti-occupation/bicommunal protests aside, the appropriation of public spaces (roads, parks, squares) by non-party actors for protesting is less pronounced in Cyprus than in other countries. There exist as we have seen, some notable recent exceptions, such as the campaigns mounted by Os Dhame and Save Akamas. It is also true that radical tactics and disruptive protests do not usually shake up the republic’s consensual politics. For example, following the 2012–2013 financial crisis, the risk of severing trade and financial ties with European partners was deemed as being too high. The sense that the country cannot break from international obligations radically and on its own eased the acceptance of austerity measures by unions and activists with ties to major political parties in 2013. Inevitably, the small size of the country affects the form of protests. As many examples in this chapter highlight, repertoires of movements and citizen initiatives often mean protesting in front of the responsible ministry, sometimes literally handing a petition to the minister or directly expressing grievances by talking to them. Formal institutional access is also more direct, with members/representatives of movements being invited to parliamentary committees and acting as witnesses or experts on related issues. A noteworthy feature of protest in Cyprus (one that is indirectly related to the country’s small size) is the use of the Cypriot dialect in many, particularly left-wing, demonstrations. The linguistic choice of a non-formalized idiom, rather than the more formal-sounding mainland Greek that is the language of education and administration, renders slogans more familiar to the activists, emphasizes the local or working-class character of the protests and has anti-colonial and anti-nationalist (Cypriot-centric) undertones. For these reasons, the name Os Dhame, an expression drawn from the Cypriot dialect, was in itself a statement and protest tactic. The colloquial spelling used by the protesters drew criticism among centre-right politicians who highlighted the correct spelling from ancient Greek. They thus challenged the novelty of the movement and refocused attention to older debates about Cypriot national identity.

Conclusion Civil society and social movements in the Republic of Cyprus have experienced growth, differentiation and dynamism in recent years. They are still hampered by their small scale, the 353

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oversized influence of party politics and the all-encompassing Cyprus problem, but they have also benefited from increasing resources, international allies and a relatively open political opportunity structure. As several examples in this chapter demonstrate, informal groups and formal associations have mobilized since 1974 to place old and new issues into public discourse and reinterpret the traditional political cleavages (left/right, position on the Cyprus issue). In doing so they have fused local and transnational frames and repertoires in interesting ways that merit further research. Scholarship that compares and contrasts Cypriot protests to similar ones in other countries (Kovras, 2017; Charalambous and Ioannou, 2017; Vogiatzoglou, 2017) offers a good template how to remain sensitive to the Cypriot context while avoiding insularity. In lieu of a longer conclusion, it is important to note that Cyprus has not had a large student body until relatively recently – high-school graduates typically conducted their studies in Greece or the UK. The situation changed dramatically during the last two decades with the establishment of several public and private universities. This may yet prove the most important recent structural change: hundreds of biographically available young people provide Cypriot civil society and social movements with an important reservoir for mobilization. Relatedly, an increasing number of students major in the arts, humanities and the social sciences – this marks a gradual shift in preferences away from professional degrees (law, business, accounting) with more immediate financial awards and once regarded as the obvious choices for Cypriot youth in the uncertain post-1974 environment. Such structural and demographic shifts and the generally open institutional opportunity structure are likely to counteract recent attempts to close CSOs (Demetriou, and Trimikliniotis, 2021) through a strict implementation of the 2017 law on associations.

Notes 1 The 2011 movement Occupy Buffer Zone in Nicosia, inspired by the global Occupy Movement but situated in the specific Cypriot context, is a good example of how global and local frames are combined in creative ways by local activists (see Ilican, 2013). 2 See, for instance, Standard Eurobarometer, Wave EB93.1; Cyprus had the second lowest average interpersonal trust among all countries included in the 2018 European Social Survey. 3 Calculations by the author using data from the 2018 round of the European Social Survey. 4 For a meticulous indexing of groups from this particular milieu, see the Cyprus movement archive at https://movementsarchive.org/doku.php?id=el:start. 5 For the broader importance of the Faneromeni Square among radical, anti-authoritarian movements see Christou (2021).

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Index

Page numbers in italics refer to figures. Page numbers in bold refer to tables. Page numbers followed by ‘n’ refer to notes. 350 Pacific 208 Aarelaid-Tart, A. 237 ABC 138 Abdelhafez, D. 50 accession process, EU see Montenegro Accompong Maroons 74, 76, 83–86 Accompong News Network (ANN) 82, 83 accountability 50, 107; emerging patterns for civil society in small states 167–170; lessons for civil society in small states 170–171 activism: campaigns 6, 214; civic 124, 126–130, 236, 298; see also campaigns; student activism of Caribbean Left ACTNOW!’s campaign 324 Act on Associations (Slovenia, 1974) 249 Act on Foundations (Slovenia, 1994) 251 Act on Institutes (Slovenia, 1991) 251 administrative capacity 178 Adventist Development and Relief Agency (ADRA) 197 adversary 37; environmental civil society organizations 29; LGBTQIA+ issues 129; relationship, ECSOs and government (Cabo Verde) 36–39 advocacy: ENGOs, in Belize 49, 57; environmental, in Cockpit Country 84, 89; LGBTQIA+ rights 133; NGOs, in Oceania 315; political, in Samoa 145–146 Affirmative Action Group 304, 308 African Development Bank 29 Africanews 310 Afrobarometer 306 agency: emerging patterns for civil society in small states 167–170; lessons for civil society in small states 170–171 Aggrey-Darkoh, E. V. 338 Agnew, J. 205–206 Agricultural Cooperative Development International (ACDI-VOCA) 32

Aguon, J. 330n31 Ahmed, S. 27 AIMO (High Intensity of Manpower) programme 30 Aire, T. 268 Akamas, exploitation of 351 Alam, S. 27 Albania, participatory model of CSOs in 266, 267 Albareda, A. 277 Alder, E. 192 Alexeyeff, K. 142 Ali, A. 322 Alipour, H. 17 Ali, S. 322, 329n17 Alizada, N. 63, 70 Aljec, K. 250 Alliance for Justice and Diversity 127 Alliance of Small Islands States (AOSIS) 49 Alliance of Solidarity for the Family (ASFF) 155–156 Alliance of Solwara Warriors (ASW) 325 alliance partners 32, 32 Almada-Villela, P. C. 47 Almeida, P. 28 Almerigi, S. 107 Almomani, A. 116 Altbach, P. 333, 337 Ålund, A. 164, 171 Amigos da Natureza 30 Amsterdam Treaty (1997) 176 Ancharaz, V. 308 Andrew, A. 123–135 anger, explosion in Mauritius see Mauritius Anheier, H. K. 248, 249, 289 Annan Plan 349, 352 Anorthotiko Komma Ergazomenou Laou (AKEL) (Cyprus) 345 Anti-Counterfeiting Trade Agreement 241 Antilles Episcopal Conference (AEC) 196 357

Index anti-mining movement, in Jamaica 84 Apostolopoulou, E. 66, 68, 70 Appadurai, A. 303 Arab Spring 310 Archdiocese’s Ministry for Migrants and Refugees (AMMR) 198–199 Arefipour, T. 17 Arel-Bundock, V. 291 Armitage, D. 56 Arsono, A. Y. 109 Aruba: civil society and migration governance in 168–171; Venezuelan migrants in 168–169 Aruba Positive Foundation (APF) 168, 169, 170 Arya, D. 62, 64 Asian Development Bank (ADB) 95, 140 Aslipour, H. 50 Assembly of the Republic of Macedonia 271n11 Assembly of the Republic of North Macedonia 267 Association for the Defence of the Environment (ADAD) 30 Association for the Prevention and Handling of Violence in the Family 351 Association for the Promotion of Solid Human Family (APSHF) 155–156 asylum: in European Union 178; migration and 177–178; seekers 5, 167, 174–186; see also migrant support NGOs; Refugee and Migrant Response Plan in the Caribbean Sub-Region Atanasova, G. 275, 284 Atienza, M. E. L. 109 ATOM (Against Testing on Moruroa) Committee 317 Attorney General 129 Auer, M. R. 237 Avellino, M. 63 awareness: of discrimination 143; about HIV/AIDS 169; about human rights, women’s rights and gender equality 321; lack of 56; Methodist church activities for 195–196; migrants, refugees and human trafficking 199; about Runit Dome 320; see also gender-based violence (GBV); West Papua Axford, B. 289 Bache, I. 290 Bailey, H. G. 86 Bailey, I. 94 Bakare, S. 126 Baker, B. 29 Baldacchino, G. 15, 63, 64, 109, 130, 133, 291 Baldwin-Edwards, M. 177 Balogun, J. M. 222 Baltic News Service (BNS) 238 Balzan, S. 292 Bambrick, H. 50 Bamidele-Izu, A. 107

358

Banegas, R. 220 Banks, N. 48, 191, 276 Barbados 80, 334, 341 Barbrook-Johnson, P. 17, 20 Baron, R. M. 349 Barrow, E. 333 Barrow, M. 128 Bartels, L. 235, 239 Bath University 77 Batour, G. 308 Bavinck, M. 56 Bazant, U. 255 Beaumont, N. 50, 53 Becerra-Valdivia, L. 329n1 Bechuanaland Peoples Party (Botswana) 222–223 Beck, U. 27 Beeson, M. 193 Behrens III, W. W. 94 Beichelt, T. 124 Beissinger, M. R. 235, 239 Belize: environmental governance in 47–48; environmental governance networks in 48–49; environmental non-governmental organizations in 51–58 Belize Audubon Society 48 Belize Network of NGOs (BNN) 48, 49 Benford, R. D. 28, 346 Bengtsson, S. 255 Bennett, H. 76 Benoit, D. 151–160 Benson, C. 108 Berg, E. 265 Berglund, S 237 Bermeo, N. 235, 239 Bernauer, T. 49, 50 Bernhard, M. 263 Berseth, V. 65 Besnier, N. 141, 142 Besson, J. 84 Betzold, C. 49 Beyers, J. 277, 282, 289 Bhalla, N. 123 Bhautoo, N. 310 Bhoojedhur, S. 123 Białas-Zielin´ska, K. 189 Bianchi, R. V. 80 bicommunal cooperation, in Cyprus 348–349 Bierschenk, T. 36 Bigby, B. C. 15, 16, 20 big push theory 95 Binderkrantz, A. 277 bird hunting and trapping 66, 71 BirdLife International 76, 77 Birdlife Malta 71 Bishop, M. L. 191 Bissessar, A. M. 125 Bizlall. J. 305

Index

Black, C. V. 78 Black Power movements 126, 333 Blades, J. 93, 209, 210, 211, 212, 213 Blaikie, P. 108 Blais, A. 291 Blitz, B. K. 177 Blomberg, M. 207 Blossom Inc. 168, 170, 171 Blue Ocean Law and Pacific Network on Globalisation (PANG) 93, 99, 100 Blue Pacific Line see Pacific Blue Line (PBL) Blumer, H. 96 Blum, S. 254, 255 Bogason, P. 50 Böhmelt, T. 49, 50 Boisi Center for Religion and American Public Life 193 Boissevain, J. 63, 290 Bojicic-Dzelilovic, V. 264 Bolen, S. D. 157–158 Bolles, L. 341 Bolleyer, N. 277 Boluk, K. 16 Bonello, S. 63 Bonini, C. 295 Borbáth, E. 238, 244 Borgatti, S. P. 50 Borg, J. 293 Borg, M. C. 64 Borrevik, C. 49 Börzel, T. A. 192, 193, 271n8 Bosak, K. 16 Bosilkova-Antovska, A. 275, 276 ˇ R. 248, 250, 251, 252, 256 Boškic, Boswell, R. 304 Botswana 219–220; Democratic Party 223; discriminatory and racist colonial state in 222–223; estimated number of 225; foreign donor organizations in 223; Independence Party 223; landscape in 224–226; meaning of 220–222; National Front 223; origins and character of 222–224; state-civil society relations 226–227; state of funding 227–230; unaccountable and corrupt leadership in 224; unique features of 223 Botswana Community Based Organisations’ Network (BOCOBONET) 225, 229–230 Botswana Council of Non-governmental Organisations (BOCONGO) 225, 229–230 bottom-up regionalism: climate change 206–208; differing typologies 214–215; state-led vs. 205–206; West Papua, supporting self-determination in 210–213 Bourgault, S. 152 Bowen, G. A. 18, 21, 22, 108 Bowman, B. 62, 64 Bowman, L. W. 304

Boyce Davies, C. 341 Boy Scouts and Girl Guides 224 Brady, H. E. 236, 237 Brajovic´, S. 264 Brändli, M. 277 Brdo Declaration 263 Brechin, S. R. 48, 53 Briguglio, L. 1–10, 15, 60, 63, 97 Briguglio, M. 1–10, 49, 50, 62–71, 182 Brimacombe, T. 204 British Labour Party 333 Broad, R. 80, 88 Brodie, J. 340 Bronze Soldier, Soviet war monument 235, 240–241 Browning, G. K. 289 Brown, L. 81 Brown, M. 63, 64 Brown, R. M. 193 Brown, W. 338 Brown-Williams, T. 13–23 Brüggemann, K. 240, 241 Brun, A. 98 Bryan, P. 78 Bryant, R. 347 BTI Report 309 Budoo, A. 306 Buhle, P. 336 Buisseret, D. J. 78 Buker, P. 109 Bullici, O. 351 Bulmer, S. 289 Bunwaree, S. 1–10, 302–311 Burnham, F. 333 Burns, M. 333 Burns, P. 17, 20 Burroughs, E. L. 82 Byron, J. 189–200 Cabo Verde see environmental civil society organizations (ECSOs), in Cabo Verde Cachia, J. C. 288–299 Cadman, R. 49, 53 CAISO 135n2 Calabrese, J. R. 157–158 campaigns 3; #OrangeAruba 168; ACTNOW!’s 324; against deep-sea mining 323–327; against DSM 324, 326; elections 184; for environmental justice 41, 81; Free West Papua 209, 210–212, 214–215; on gender-based violence 341; for No New Fossil Fuels 98; Pacific Blue Line 99; Save the Cockpit Country 84, 86–88; social media and 75, 210–212; trust and scepticism in 289–290; violence against women 328; women’s rights 227 Campbell, H. G. 81, 108

359

Index Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA) 228 CANARI 107 Cannon, T. 108 Caramani, D. 289 Cardwell, H. 208 CARES 309 Caribbean: Archdiocese’s Ministry for Migrants and Refugees 198–199; Catholic Church 196–197; Catholic Commission for Social Justice 198–199; Christian denominations in 193–194; Methodist Church of the Caribbean and Americas 194–195, 198; nature of civil society in 191–192; Salvation Army 197–198; Seventh-day Adventist Church 195–196, 197; social constructivist approach 192–193; socialisms 340; see also student activism of Caribbean Left Caribbean Community (CARICOM) 192 Caribbean Conference of Churches (CCC) 191, 194 Caribbean Migration Consultations (CMC) 166 Caribbean Natural Resources Institute 76 CARICOM see Caribbean Community (CARICOM) Carlisle, K. 56 Carlson, L. 51, 53, 248, 249 Carnicelli, S. 16 Carreta Carreta 33 Carroll, B. W. 224, 303 Carroll, T. 224, 303 Carr, R. 128 Carson, J. B. 147 Carson, R. 27 Carter, N. 27, 33, 36, 62, 64, 71 Caruana Galizia, Daphne 288, 293–299 Cassar, X. 67 Castelli G. P. 238, 239 Castells, M. 64, 96 ˇ Cašule, N. 206 Catholic Church 194, 196–197 Catholic Commission for Social Justice (CCSJ) 196, 198–199 Cavanagh, J. 88 Cave, D. 204, 207 Cekik, A. 274, 275, 276 Cekov, A. 276 Centre for Alternative Research and Studies (CARES) 306 Centre for Development of Non-governmental Organizations 264 Centre for Information, Development and Co-operation of Non-Governmental Organizations (CNVOS) 251, 254 Ceptureanu, E. G. 116 Ceptureanu, S. I. 116 Cerratti, F. 125

360

Chabanet, D. 268 Chachin, D. 191 Chadee, D. 128 Challinor, E. 30, 31, 32 Chambers, S. 154 Chan Low, J. 308 Chapman, R. 289, 290 Charalambous, G. 350, 354 Charitable Trusts Act 315 Charles, H. 334 Charlie, C. 50 Charter of Civil Society for the Caribbean Community 192 Chateaubelair Community Emergency Response Team 111–112 Chen, W. 95, 96 Chevalier, A. 26 Children, Young People and Family Welfare Act (2013) 322 Chiramba, K. 159 Chitando, E. 189 Choong, W. 48 Chowdhury, T. 27 Christian Action for Development in the Eastern Caribbean (CADEC) 191 Christian Aid 191 Christofias, D. 350 Christou, G. 351, 354 Chubb, B. 290 Chung, H. 254, 255 churches 189–190; Archdiocese’s Ministry for Migrants and Refugees 198–199; Caribbean Conference of Churches 194; Catholic Church 196–197; Catholic Commission for Social Justice 198–199; Christian denominations in Caribbean 193–194; civil society and 190; Methodist Church of the Caribbean and Americas 194–195, 198; Salvation Army 197–198; Seventh-day Adventist Church 195–196, 197; social constructivist approach 192–193 Cicolini, G. 125 cimarrones 76 Cini, M. 291 Cipollone, F. 125 Circular Metals Corporation 327 Citizen Engagement Platform Seychelles (CEPS) 154–156, 158 Citizens Constitutional Forum (CCF), of Fiji 315 Cittàslow philosophy 16 civic activism 298; defined 124; LGBTQIA+ 126–130; measures of 236 Civica Mobilitas programme 276 CIVICUS 248–249, 268, 344, 347, 353 civil dialogue, in Slovenia: CSOs willingness to cooperate in 256–257; defined 255; government policy regarding 258–259

Index

civil rights movement 79, 80, 333 civil society autonomy 164 Civil Society Forward Together Conference 192 Clarke, C. 292 classism 86–88 Claxton, K. 210 climate change 49, 95–96, 214–215, 314; anthropogenic-induced 97; bottom-up regionalism and 206–208; focused social media 208; human-induced 207; mainstream media coverage of 207; mining activities for 79; protest on 68, 71 climate justice, in Pacific small island developing states 97–98 climate refugees 208 Coate, B. 48 Cockpit Country (Jamaica): class and party politics in 86–88; history of 75–77; land, space, social movements and identity in 74–89; and mining industry 78–79; politics of ordinary people of 84–86; politics of space and definitions 77–78; social movements in 80–82; sovereignty and environmental justice of 82–84 Cockpit Country Protected Area (CCPA) 78, 85–87 cockpit karsts, defined 75, 78 coercive action 290 Coetzee, C. 113, 115 Cohen, R. 96 cohesion 53, 177, 303 Coke, N. 197 Cole, R. 63, 70 collaborative networks 53, 56 collapse theory 75 Collectif Arc-en-Ciel, establishment of 130–131 collective action in Cyprus, atrophy of 345–346 collective bargaining, in Cyprus 347–348 colonialism/colonisation 126, 315; in Africa civil society 222; anti-colonialism movements 80; in Botswana 222–223, 228; British 76; British-French 209; in Caribbean left 333–334; European 193–194; LGBTQI+ community 131; neocolonialism 80, 297; in Oceania 316–321, 324, 328; in Samoa 141 Comaroff, J. 304 Combaz, E. 80 ‘coming of age’ moment, for Caribbean youth and students 334 Committee Against Tests on Moruroa (ATOM) 97 Commonwealth Advisory Group 303 Commonwealth countries 126, 133 Commonwealth Secretariat 154 communities: and advocacy 57; -centred tourism framework 20; fa’afafine 140, 142, 143, 144, 146–147, 148; grassroots 55, 191, 206; -level

activism 86; LGBTQIA+ 126–132, 169, 353; local 2, 14, 16, 20, 23, 34, 35, 54, 87, 139, 159, 251; networks 48; resilience 107, 109; sanctions 141, 142; service 143, 144, 145, 146 community-based disaster risk management (CBDRM) 108, 109; CSOs in 109; functions of organizations 111; profile of organizations 110 community-based organizations (CBOs): meeting frequency of 112; organizational features 110; partnering and 115–116; in practice 113; role 105 community disaster response teams (CDRTs) 105, 108; assessment of capacities and challenges 112–113; during effusive phase of eruption 113; group dynamics, internal challenges, and sustainability 116; issues of sustainability 114–116; limited resources 115; partnering and 115–116; perception of role during explosive phase of eruption 113–116; reactive response, overemphasis on 114–115 Community Emergency Response Team (CERT) programme 4 complementary relationship, ECSOs and government (Cabo Verde) 36–39 Compton, J. 333 Compton, S. 105–117 COM Secretariat 192 Conference of the MCCA 195 Conger, J. A. 147 Connell, J. 18, 21, 22 Connell, R. 78, 81, 83, 84, 304 Connelly, C. 130 Connolly, M. 125 Conservation International-Center for Applied Biodiversity Science 77 conservation, protection and sustainable development framing 33–34, 33 constitution: of Botswana 226, 227; of Cabo Verde 30; of Estonia 245; of Jamaica 86; of Montenegro 262; of Oceania 319; of Republic of Mauritius 131–133; of Republic of Trinidad and Tobago 128; of Seychelles 153 construction: development as 63; indigenous 141; industry 292, 347; national 29; reality 28; of regionalism 192, 198 consultation 57, 154, 169, 324; with communities 323; digital modes of 280; ecumenical 194; electronic 276; with Indonesia 210; non-state actor 192; online 280; political 289–290; public 77, 269; superficial 18, 21 consultative face-to-face meetings 280 contentious politics 1, 28, 37, 124, 126, 128, 345–346 contestation 164, 221, 306, 332

361

Index Convention on the Elimination of Discrimination Against Women (1992) 140 Cook Islands Seabed Mining Act (2019) 325 cooperation between NGOs 21, 32, 189–200, 256–257 cooperative movement, Cypriot 346 Cooper, R. 50 Coral Gardens Massacre 81 Corbett, J. 63, 109, 291, 310 Corporate Village Malta 291 Corrales, J. 81, 126 Correa, P. 277 corruption 182, 213; in Botswana 224; in Cyprus 350; in Maltese 292–294, 296–298; in Mauritius 306, 307; in Montenegro 264, 266; in North Macedonia 276; in Oceania 324; protest against institutional 288 couch activism 345 Council of Europe 293, 295 Council of Evangelical Churches 129 Council of Regional Organizations in the Pacific (CROP) 94 Council of the European Union 264 counselling 156–158, 169, 181, 198, 321 Countrystyle Community Tourism Network 86 COVID-19 Act 306–307 COVID-19 pandemic: affecting refugees 179–181; gender-based violence and 152, 153; sustainable tourism development in Tobago, impact of 15–16; work of CSOs during 181–182; see also environmental protest, in Malta Cowell, F. 126 Cox, J. 204, 205 Crawley, H. 177 Creole community 304 Crespo, A. D. 295 Criminal Code of Mauritius 133, 134 criminal negligence 309 Cris¸an, E. 49 Cristol, J. 192 ˇ ˇ A. 248, 249, 250, 251, 252, 256 Crnak-Meglic, Croatia 266 Cronin, M. 207 Cross, J. 82 Crown Land Ordinance (CLO) (Belize) 47 Cruickshank, A. 46–58, 105–117 Crutchfield, L. R. 39, 41 Cruz, D. C. V. 29, 31, 35 Cuba 335–336 Cuban Partido Independiente de Color (Independent Party of Color) 81 Cullwick, J. 209 culture in Samoa 138–139; fa’afafine 143–145; fa’asamoa 143–144 Curaçao: civil society and migration governance in 169–171; Venezuelan migrants in 169–170

362

‘CV building’ ethic of students 339 CVM Television 83 Cyprus 344–345; atrophy of collective action and causes 345–346; economic crisis of 2012–2013 350; implications of case 352–353; migrant support in 174–187; participatory model of CSOs in 268; post-materialist issues, ascendance of 350–352; protest in 348–350; signs of vigour 346–348 Cyprus Family Planning Association 351 Cyprus Mail 352 Cyprus Motorcycle Federation 348 Cyprus Refugee Council 177–178, 182, 187n4 Cyprus STOP Trafficking group 352 Cyprus Workers Confederation (SEK) 345, 348 Cyprus Youth Organization 347 Da-Boi, R. 177 Dagnini, J. K. 81 Dahl, A. 95, 96 Dahl, R. A. 303 Dalton, R. J. 28 Daniel, A. 219, 220, 304 Danish International Development Agency (DANIDA) 228 Dan, M. 49 Daphne Caruana Galizia Foundation 295, 299n3 Daramita, R. I. F. 109 Dassonneville, R. 291 D’Augelli, A. R. 125 Davidson, D. J. 49 Davies, J. S. 50, 53 Davis, I. 108, 115 Dawere International High School Virtual Baccalaureate 167 Day, M. 75 D’Costa, B. 206, 315, 316 de Águeda Corneloup, I. 49 de Bakker, F. G. A. 221 debates 33, 305, 335; Cabo Verde 37, 39; Cockpit Country 86–89; CROP 94; LGBTQIA+ 129; on migration at European level 175; national 337; on non-sustainability of economic growth 94–95, 99; public 262, 265, 341; in social media 204 DeBattista, A. P. 288–299 DeBono, D. 176 Debono, J. 63, 292 de Bruin, M. 128 De Bruycker, I. 277, 282 Declaration on the Elimination of Violence against Women 151 DeepGreen Metals Inc. 325–328 deep-sea mining (DSM) 94–96; Pacific Blue Line (PBL) against 326; regional campaign against 316, 323–327; see also Pacific small island developing states (PSIDS)

Index

Deery, P. 316 Degnarain, N. 305 De Gruyter 249 Dehnert, S. 254, 255 Dekker, P. 275, 277 Delaite, B. 26 De La Peza, L. 107 De L’Estrac, J. 305 Delia, M. 293, 294, 295, 297 Della Pelle, C. 125 Della Porta, D. 124 Demetriou, C. 352, 354 Demetriou, O. 348 democracy: advancement of 222, 274; and civil society 264; enhancement 7; and individual rights 140; intra-organizational 277; liberal 63, 79, 219; mafioso 310; promoting 6, 50, 276; schools of 284; voices of 230 democratic potential of politically and socially oriented CSOs 278–283 demonstrations 64, 123, 236, 238–239, 298; generalized anti-government 349; labour-related 242; mobilized 124; public 347; registered 241; strikes and 244 de Moor, J. 63 den Hond, F. 221 DeRoy, P. 126 De Tocqueville, A. 304 Deutschmann, M. 159 Development Alternatives with Women for a New Era (DAWN) 93, 101, 324 ‘development as construction’ paradigm (Malta) 63 Deželan, T. 248–259 Diamond, L. 276 Diani, M. 28, 67 Dicastery for Promoting Integral Human Development 196 Di Giovanni, P. 125 digital activism 64 Dimokratikos Synagermos (DISY, Cyprus) 345 Dingake, K. 227 Din l-Art Ħelwa (National Trust of Malta) 71 disaster management/humanitarian assistance: Methodist Church 198; Salvation Army 197–198; Seventh-day Adventist Church 197 disaster risk reduction (DRR) 108 discrimination 123, 125; gender 152; against LGBT community 126–127; LGBTQIA+ 127; protection from 132–134; public awareness of 143; racial 222; against women 151 discursive opportunity structure (Cyprus) 346 diversity 225; biodiversity 14, 34, 47, 48, 75, 84, 97, 326; cultural 14, 75; economic 95; of environmental movement 64; in gender

identifications and expressions 141; promoting 220; of stakeholders 107 Divjak, T. 275, 276 Dixon, K. 81, 82 Dobbins, M. 274 Dodds, R. 15 Doering, A. 15, 16, 20 Doherty, B. 30, 31, 101, 102 Do, H. V. 207 Dolgoy, R. 138, 139, 141, 142, 143, 145, 146 Domestic Violence Act (1999, 2016, 2020) 132, 134, 158 Donati, P. R. 28 dos Reis Freitas, A. 108 Dowarkasing, S. 308 Downes, W. 125 Downing, D. 289 Doyle, T. 30, 31, 80, 86, 88 Drake, M. 79 Dredge, D. 17, 50, 53 Drennan, L. 105 Drozdiak, W. 318 Dublin Regulation 176 Duncan, N. 192 Dür, A. 277 Durrell Wildlife Conservation Trust 77 Duyvendak, J. W. 28 Eagly, A. H. 349 Earl, J. 239 Earth Summit (1992) 30, 94–95 East Timor and Indonesia Action Network 213 economic crisis: in Caribbean 191; in Cyprus 350; in Estonia 237, 240–241; in Mauritius 310; in Slovenia 252 economic models 74 economic success, and CSO financing 6 Economist Intelligence Unit 63 Edwards, M. 189, 190, 191, 276, 304 Edwards, P. E. 85 EEAS 263 Eising, R. 289 Ekiert, G. 236, 245 Ekman, J 237 elections 18, 28, 31, 84, 89; campaigns 184; delaying and distorting 224; of executive board members 277; free 226; general 84, 89, 306, 335; national 179, 292–293, 296; parliamentary 240, 345; presidential 153, 240; of student leaders 338 Ellsberg, M. 152 Ellsworth, F. L. 333 Elmslie, J. 209, 210, 213 Emang Basadi 227, 228 employers, Slovenian civil society sector as 252–253, 253

363

Index employment 159, 162, 180, 266; access to 165–166; discrimination in 132; legally registered 180; opportunities in food retail 182; part- or full-time 156; share of 252; wage 139, 144 empowerment of women 152, 157, 341 engagement: AMMR’s 199; civic 237, 288; civil society 284; direct 262–263; ecclesial 194; political 163–172, 282; public 146; regional 206; social media 340 environment: awareness 49; conservation of 29, 227, 245, 326; deleterious effects of synthetic pesticides on 27; injustice frame 37; issue 304, 315; Malta’s 63, 71; and policies 30; and protecting resources 30, 79; and tourism 56, 226 environmental civil society organizations (ECSOs), in Cabo Verde 26–27; access to political authorities 30; alliance partnership 32; civil society and environmentalism 27–28; emergence and engagement with state 29–36; engagement outcomes 39–41; extent of cooperation with central government 38; framing 33–35; and government 36–39, 37; method and data collection for 28–29; on PANA II 40; political opportunity structures 29–32; resource mobilization 35–36; on specific environmental policies, programmes or legislation 40; strategies and activities 37, 38 environmental governance: in Belize 47–56; ENGOs ways to succeeded in influencing 53–55; networks in 48–49; partnerships influenced 55–56; Saint Vincent and the Grenadines 107–108; Tobago tourism policy and 16–17; see also network governance environmental hazards 3–4 environmental injustice framing 34–35, 34 environmentalism 71, 79; civil society and 27–28; elite 88; ethos of 89; in EU 64; left-wing 64; uptown 87 environmental issues: in Belize 46–58; in Cabo Verde 26–41; in Jamaica’s Cockpit Country 74–89; in Malta 62–71; in Pacific small island developing states 93–102; in Tobago 13–23 environmental justice, in Jamaica 82–84 environmental movement 79, 80 environmental non-governmental organizations (ENGOs): in Belize 47–56; challenges of 56; in Cockpit Country (Jamaica) 74–75, 80, 87–88; collaboration with decision-makers 54; consumer behaviour, influencing 54; educational activities 54; improving effectiveness 56–57; in local, national and international networks 55–56; in Malta 62, 64; mode of operation 53; modes of publicity 54; need for capacity building 54; objectives of 52–53; partnership between 54; partnerships

364

influenced environmental governance 55–56; practical stewardship activities 54; presence of NGOs, enhancing 54; support for NGOs 54; types of 52; ways to succeeded in influencing environmental governance 53–55 Environmental Partnership Conference 15, 19 Environmental Partnership Declaration (2019) 13, 14–15 environmental policy: Cabo Verde 26–30, 37, 39; Malta 64 environmental protest, in Malta 62–64; issues characterizing 70; issues relating to physical 65–66; organizational networks in 67–69; organizations involved in 66–67, 66; specific issues leading to 65 Environmental Research Institute of Charlotteville (ERIC) 14, 19–20 equality: fairness and 164; gender 140, 151–152, 156, 191, 223, 227, 316, 321–322; promoting 196 Equal Opportunities Act (2000, 2008) 130, 132–134 Equal Opportunities Commission (EOC) 130, 134 Equal Place initiative 167 Eraydin, A. 56 Erkus¸-Özturk, H. 56 Erle, R. 268 Escazu Agreement 107 Estonian Centre Party 244–245 Estonian Conservative Party 244–245 Estonian Protest Dataset (EPD) 236, 238 Estonian protest waves 235–236; anti-immigration and anti-refugee claims in 242; anti-Russia protests in 243; anti-Soviet mobilization in 243–244; civil society activism between 1992 and 2019 236–237; cultural liberalism protest in 243–244; economic protests in 241–242; environmental protests in 243–244; groups and issues to mobilize protests in 237–238; participatory model of CSOs in 268; parties and mobilizing groups in 244–245; protest event data in 238–239; protest issues in 241–244; protest magnitude 239–245 Ethemer, E. 351 Ethniko Laiko Metopo (ELAM) 352 eureka moment 15 European Asylum Support Office, in Malta 176 European Commission 262, 263, 264, 265, 269, 349 European Council 263 European Movement, in Montenegro 269 European Social Survey 236, 345, 347 European Trade Union Institute 347 European Union (EU) 135n3, 240; accession process 265–266, 267–269; acquis 264, 266,

Index

267, 269, 271n9; Agency for Asylum 176; candidate country 262, 263; membership 263, 265; Slovenian civil society sector vs. 254; see also Montenegro Europese Conventie 268 Evangelou, M. 350 Evans, C. 95 Evers, A. 248, 289 Ewing, A. 81 exaggerated personalism 291 explosion: of anger 302–311; explosive phase of eruption 113 Extinction Rebellion Malta 66–68, 69 Eyben, R. 80 Eyre, L. 77 fa’aaloalo 143–144 fa’afafine 138–139, 145–146; cultural legitimacy 143–145; leadership 146–147; networks 142; social positionings of 141–142; as ‘third gender’ 141 Fa’afafine Week 145 fa’afatama 139; SFA’s inclusion of 145–147; social positionings of 141–142 fa’asamoa 138–148 Fabian, G. 255 Fabian Society 333 Fagan, A. 274, 276 Fair, H. 208 faith-based CSOs 5 Falzon, M. A. 64 Falzon, N. 177, 179–185 Family Protection Law (2013) 322 Fanning, L. 107 farmers 30, 244, 349; associations 222; Maltese 67, 69, 69, 71 Farran, S. 138, 139 Farrell, D. M. 290 Farrelly, T. 140 Farrugia, C. 294 Farrugia, M. 290 Faustmann, H. 346 Feagaimaali’i-Luamanu, J. 212 Featherstone, K. 271n8 Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), Maltese 295 feminist/feminism 101, 191, 316, 324; in Caribbean Left 339–341; in Cyprus 351–352; Fiji 321 Fenech, Y. 296 Ferge, Z. 255 Ferguson, J. A. 78 Fields, R. 82 Fiji 209–210 Fiji International Seabed Mineral Management Decree (2013) 94 Fiji Labour Party 329n11

Fiji Solidarity Movement for West Papua’s Freedom 211 Fiji Women’s Crisis Centre (FWCC) 321, 323 Fiji Women’s Rights Movement (FWRM) 321 Filipovicˇ Hrast, M. 254, 255 Filippou, G. 349 Fillieule, O. 239 financial: capacities 178, 182–183; constraints 4, 115, 166; crisis 183, 346, 348, 353; resources 9, 35, 48, 52, 58, 114, 115, 117, 186, 275–276, 280, 284, 352; support 6, 9, 28, 29, 32, 35, 126, 160, 183, 223, 269, 276, 353 Financial Times 306 Finau, G. 204, 205, 206, 207, 208, 211, 214, 215 Fink-Hafner, D. 274 Finnetty, S. 18, 19, 20, 23, 47 Fioramonti, L. 192 Firth, S. 97 Fishman, R. M. 271n8 Fitz-Gibbon, K. 152 Fleurant, C. 75 Flimkien għall-Ambjent Aħjar (FAA) 66, 68, 68 Foa, R. S. 236, 245 Foley, A. M. 95 Font, X. 17, 20 Food and Agriculture Organization of the UN (FAO) 32 forced tenants, rights of 245, 246n6 foreign donors 95; in Botswana 223–224, 227–230; in Mauritius 135n8; in North Macedonia 275–276, 284 Forest Ordinance (FO, Belize) 47 Forestry Department 75 Foret, F. 189 frame extension/frame bridging 346 framing 28; conservation, protection and sustainable development 33–34, 33; environmental injustice 34–35, 34 Francis-Blackman, L. A. 123–135 Francisco, A. 33 Fraser, C. R. 189 Freedom House 63, 345 Free West Papua Campaign 209, 210–212, 214–215 FreeWestPapua.org 211 Freise, M. 277 French Polynesia 316–320 Frickel, S. 49 Fridays for Future movement (Malta) 68 Friends of the Earth 27 Friggieri, O. 290, 291, 292 Froio, C. 238, 239 Front de Libération Nationale Kanak et Socialiste (FLNKS) movement 209 Front Ħarsien ODZ 68 Front Kontra l-Golf Kors (Malta) 63, 68 Fruean, B. 208

365

Index Fry, G. 206, 316, 318, 329n5 Fuentes-George, K. 83, 84 Fundacion Contra Violencia Relacional (FCVR) 168–169, 171 funding: Botswana’s civil society and social movements 223, 227–230; ENGOs, negotiations on 55; by foreign donors 276; for NGOs from Montenegrin government budget 265; for North Macedonian CSOs, sources of 276, 279, 279; for Pacific Concerns Resource Centre 319; of Slovenian civil society sector, sources of 253, 254; transferred to local associations 36 Gaillard, J. C. 108, 109, 115 Galea, P. 64 Gamson, W. A. 28 Ganz, M. 28 Garrett, J. 212 Garveyism 81 Garvey, M. 81 Gaskins, J. 126 Gastaldi, L. 63, 70 Gaulme, F. 95, 96 Gaventa, J. 164, 171 Gavrielides, C. 351 Gemmill, B. 107 Genade, K. 109 Gender and Media Plus Association of Seychelles (GEM Plus) 155, 156–157 gender-based violence (GBV) 151–152; challenges faced by CSOs 158–159; civil society actors and 154–156; contextual background of 153–154; CSO programmes and activities 156–158; future plans for CSOs 159; support for survivors and other vulnerable groups 158 gender issues 4, 123–135, 157 Gender Links 153–154, 157 Generation for Change CY 178, 182, 183, 187n5 Gentius, J. 128 George, M. A. 125 George, N. 206, 315 George, S. 290 Georgis, G. 346 Gerbaudo, P. 64 Ghaus-Pasha, A. 17 Ghica, L. A. 193 GHK 268, 347 Gibbings, R. 341 Gibson-Graham, J. K. 95 Giordano, F. M. 189 Girvan, N. 80, 191, 192 Giugni, M. 28, 31, 62, 66, 71 Gjuzelov, B. 275 Glasgow, N. J. 114

366

Global Environmental Facility Small Grants Programme (GEF SGP) 35 globalisation 74, 79, 141, 145; neoliberal 191; in Western Europe 238 Goda, K. 108 Gold-Bouchot, G. 47 Golding, B. 77 Golesorkhi, L.-Z. 162–172 Gonsalves, R. 334 good governance, economic prosperity and 292–293 Gopee, N. 307 Goransson, O. 49 Gordon, J. 128–129 Gottmoeller, M. 152 Government Assistance for Tuition Expenses programme 338 government-civil society relations 258 Government of Belize 48 Government of Botswana 226, 229 Government of Saint Vincent and the Grenadines (GoSVG) 105–106 Government of the Republic of Slovenia 258, 259 Gowdy, J. M. 79 GPPAC 107 Grabbe, H. 271n8 Graci, S. 15 Graham, S. 135n8 Graham, V. 135n8 Grahn, S. 63, 70 Gramsci, A. 219, 304 Granger, G. 335 Granner, M. L. 82 Grant, W. 289 Grassi, M. 62, 66, 71 Grasso, M. T. 31 grassroots regionalism 205–206 Gray, O. 78, 81 Great Siege monument in Valletta 294 Grech, H. 296 Grech, W. 174–187 greed, political 79 Greek Cypriot 344, 346 Greek Orthodox Church of Cyprus 346 Green Belt Movement (Kenya) 27 Green Line 344 green recovery 95, 102 Greer, C. 80 Grenada 198, 335, 336–337, 340 Grenada Students Association of Trinidad and Tobago 340 Grenade, W. 125 Griffen, V. 321 Griffin Cohen, M. 340 group interests see interest groups Gruby, R. L. 56

Index

Guilloux, B. 95, 96 Guth, J. L. 189 Gutierrez-Corley, R. 46–58 Guyana: civil society and migration governance in 167–168, 170; Venezuelan migrants in 167–168 Gyampo. R. 338 Habermas, J. 304 Haddock, M. A. 254 Hadjievska, M. I. 274–284 Hadjipavlou, M. 348, 349, 351 Hahn-Fuhr, I. 124 Haitian Revolution 81 Hajer, M. 33 Hall, C. M. 16 Hallenbeck, J. 82 Hallik, K. 242 Hallmann, T. 277 Hallsworth, S. 79 Halper, E. 330n30 Halpin, D. 277 Hamel-Green, M. 316 Hamilton, V. L. 349 Hampton, M. P. 15 Handmer, J. 48 Hands Across the Divide 351 Hansmann, H. B. 27 Harmon, C. 303 Harper, C. 28 Hauger, J. S. 98, 206 Hau’ofa, E. 206, 214, 215, 314 Hausermann, S. 235, 237, 238, 239 Havice, E. 95 Hawkins, S. 329n1 Hayward, A. 78 Healey, P. 18 health 101, 127, 143, 152, 224–226; care 165, 169, 198, 264; mental 181, 184; programmes 228; promoting 196; resources and services 162, 165–166, 168–170, 197; restrictions 186; sexual and reproductive 156–159; threat to 325 heavy-handed approach 21 Hegelich, S. 255 Heileman, S. 77 Hein, J. R. 95 Heinrich, V. H. 248, 249 Heise, L. 152 Hellmeier, S. 63, 70 Henry, N. B. 126 Henry, P. 336 Hernàndez Santisteban, A. 165, 166 Heron, T. 191 Hesterly, W. S. 50 Higgins-Desbiolles, F. 15, 16, 20 Hinds-Harrison, K. 192

Hinds, K. 13, 17, 18, 21, 22, 107 Hirczy, W. 109 Hodge, M. 340 Holm, J. 225, 228 Holness, A. 77, 83, 86 homosexuality 126–129, 146 Hooghe, L. 163 Hornidge, A. K. 56 Horwich, R. 47, 48 Hossain Bhuiyan, J. 27 Housen, C. 83 Howard, M. M. 236, 274 Hristova, L. 274, 275 Hudson, R. A. 125 Huffer, E. 143 Huggins, R. 289 Hulgard, L. 255 Hulme, D. 48, 191, 276 Hulme, M. 208 human rights 82, 101, 131, 223, 225, 228; abuses 134, 160; advocacy 145–146; based approach 107; in Commonwealth countries 126; COVID-19 pandemic and 302–306; in deprived areas 96; international 315; promoting 196; protection and initiation of 264; UNHRC resolution on 133; violations 98, 133, 153, 204, 320, 324; West Papuan 210, 212–215 Human Rights Law, in Africa 153 Hummel, M. N. 19, 20–21 Hunter, J. 330n31 Hutter, S. 65, 238, 244 ICTWSS 237 ideological pluralism 339–340 Ikeda, S. 340 Ilican, M. E. 354n1 Ilolahia, E. S. 100 Improved Forest and Protected Area Management Project (Tobago) 14 inclusion/inclusiveness 145–146; benefits of 270; citizenship and 80; involvement and 22, 102; lack of 115; participation and 15, 18, 125; recognition and 13; social 145, 176, 222 Indices of Social Development 124 indigenous community 48, 99 indigenous lands 86 indigenous rights 210, 316, 318, 319 individual democratic effects 284 Indonesia, and West Papua 212–213 information and communication technologies (ICTs) 204; bottom-up regionalism 205–215; and challenging hegemonic belittling narratives 208; and CSOs 5–6; and regional coordination 207–208; state-led regionalism 205–206; ubiquity of usage 205; see also West Papua

367

Index information-sharing ENGOs, Belize 49 Inglehart, R. 238 injustice 316; in Caribbean society 191; environmental 31, 33–35, 39, 78; inequality and 318; West Papua’s claims and 209 insider interest groups 289 Institut Alternativa 269 Institute for Global Learning and Project Development (Zavod Global) 178, 179, 183, 187n6 Institute for Justice and Applied Legal Studies 315 institutional democratic effects 284 Inter-Agency Standing Committee 151 Inter-American Development Bank 192 interest groups 289–290 Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) 95 International Council of Civil Society Organisations 107 International Court of Justice (ICJ) 317 International Donors Conference (IDC) 165 International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies 108 International Investment Programme (Maltese) 292 international non-governmental organizations (INGOs) in Caribbean 191 International Organization for Migration (IOM) 165 International Seabed Authority (ISA) 94, 316, 327 International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) 27, 76 Interpol, Maltese 295 interview: Belize 48, 51, 53, 56, 58; Cabo Verde 26, 29, 31–32, 36–37, 42; Caribbean 193–198; deep-sea mining 99; Mauritius 303, 307, 309; migrant-support CSOs 174–175, 178–179, 181–187; Saint Vincent and the Grenadines 106, 109–115; Samoa 139, 142; Seychelles 155–160; student activism of Caribbean Left 333; Tobago 19, 21, 22; Trinidad and Tobago and Mauritius 123, 127–128 intimate partner violence (IPV) 151, 153, 157, 166, 322, 323 Ioannou, G. 348, 350, 354 IOM see International Organization for Migration (IOM) IPCC see Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) Isamaa Erakond (Pro Patria Party) 245 Isbell, T. 123 Ishiwatari, M. 108 Ivanovik, I. 269 Ivanovska Hadjievska, M. 274–284, 277

368

Izugbara, C. 126 Izumi, T. 108 Jackman, M. 129 Jacobsson, K. 236 Jae Moon, M. 50 Jaffe, R. 87–88 Jakoski, S. 280 Jamaica: map of 76; and mining industry 78–79; see also Cockpit Country (Jamaica) Jamaica Bauxite Institute 79 Jamaica Environmental Entrepreneurs’ Advocacy Network 77 Jamaica Environment Trust (JET) 85, 86, 87 Jamaica Information Service (JIS) 82, 197 Jamaica Labour Party (JLP) 78 Jamaica National Heritage Trust 76 Jamaican Maroons 74–78 Jameson-Charles, M. 334 Jankauskaitė, V. 274, 278, 284 Jarraud, N. 349 Jasper, J. M. 79–80 Jaysawal, N. 219–220 Jenei, G. 255 Jenkin, M. 129 Jenkins, J. M. 16 Jeyacheya, J. 15 Jimenez, M. 351 JIS see Jamaica Information Service (JIS) Jiva, G. 206 Jjuuko, A. 126, 132, 134 John, A. 213 Johnbull, E. E. 178, 180–184 Johns Hopkins Comparative Nonprofit Sector Project 248–249, 252–254, 259n1 Johnson, D. K. 320 Johnson-Myers, T. 82 Johnson, R. E. 147 Johnston, H. 64, 237 Joint Consultative Group 192 Joint Minds Consult 222, 223, 225, 226 Jokisipilä, M. 240 Joku, F. A. 212 Jones, C. 50 Jones, J. 127–130 Jordan, G. 277 Jordan, L. A. 14, 15 Joseph, C. 128 Jowi, J. O. 338 Judicial Committee of the Privy Council (JCPC) 129 Juhasz, G. 255 justice 16, 200, 294; climate 97–98; denial of 292; ecological 101, 196; environmental 30, 35, 41, 75, 77, 80, 82–88; fight for 293, 295; lack of access to 134; mobility 15; nuclear 316, 319–321, 328; racial 81; sex and gender 127;

Index

social 15, 62, 70, 186, 193, 196, 230; spatial 70; transitional 153, 243, 264 Jutila, M. 240 Kacarska, S. 275, 284 Kacowicz, A. M. 205 Kalmus, V. 242 Kalweit, D. 174–187 Kamenou, N. 351 Kamin´ski, P. 274, 278, 284 Kanemasu, Y. 138–148 Kant, R. 204–215 Kaplan, C. S. 236, 237 Karakurt, G. 157–158 Karr, K. 290 karst land 78, 83 Kasanawaqa, V. 93–103 Kasekamp, A. 240, 241 Kasenally, R. 306 Kassen, M. 237 Kassimir, R. 190 Katsourides, Y. 345 Kattel, R. 237, 242 Katzenstein, P. J. 305 Kealy, S. 329n1 Kelman, I. 50, 115 Kempadoo, K. 128 Kemp, S. 205 Kenis, P. 50, 51, 52, 55 Kennedy, P. 96 Kerec, D. 250 Ker-Lindsay, J. 264, 346 Khakee, A. 240 Khanmohammadi, H. 50 Khan, S. 80 Khan, Z. 49 Kijiner, K. J. 320 Killye, A. 177, 178, 181–184 Kimber, J. 316 Kim, P. 50 King, B. 50, 221 King, S. 47, 48, 55, 58 KISA (Movement for Equality, Support, Anti-racism) 352 Kistnen, S. 306 Kitschelt, H. P. 28 Kjerfve, B. 47 Kladnik, A. 249 Klandermans, B. 237 ˇ ˇ M. 332, 338 Klemencic, Klijn, E. H. 50, 52, 56 Klingelhofer, S. 329n4 Kocolowski, M. D. 147 ˇ Z. 248, 249, 250, 251, 252, 254, 255, Kolaric, 256 Kolektif Konversation Solider 306, 310 Kolvani, P. 63, 70

Komar, O. 274 Konversation Solider 309 Koopmans, R. 28, 346 ˇ A. 254, 255 Kopac, Koppenjan, J. 50, 52, 56 Kopstein, J. 154 Kores Xapolites (Barefooted Women) 351 Korrenti di Ativista movement (August 2015) 34 Koschinsky, A. 95 Koster, A. 290 Kostovicova, D. 264 Koubi, V. 49, 50 Kousis, M. 351 Kovras, I. 348, 354 Kramer, N. 249 Kriesi, H. 28, 66, 235, 237, 238, 239 Krolikowski, C. 16 Kruger, C. G. 249 Kruger, L. 109 Kuhlmann, K. 254, 255 Kuhnle, S. 260n4 Kuletz, V. 80, 86 Kumar, L. 95 Kumar, R. 322 Kuti, E. 255 Labour Party 63, 291 Labrunie, I. 29, 31, 35 Lachapelle, E. 65 Lachapelle, J. 63, 70 Ladbury, S. 80 Laffan, B. 290 Lagerspetz, M. 236, 237, 268 Laginha movement (2018) 35 Laidlow, A. 105–117 Lajh, D. 269 Lal, B. V. 214 Lallmon, N. T. 123–135 Lamb, M. 339–340 Lasamble Solider of Mahébourg 309 Lasch, K. E. 28 La Soufrière volcano 105, 114 Latin American and the Caribbean (LAC) region 81 La Trobe, S. 115 Laungi, A. J. 213 Laurette, B. 307–308 Lauristin, M. 235, 236, 237, 243 Lavell, A. 109 Lavenex, S. 164, 171 Laville, J. L. 289 Lawson, S. 209 Leadbeater, M. 210 Le Berre, I. 108 Le Bon, G. 305 Leckie, J. 214 Lee-Koo, K. 206, 315, 316

369

Index Lee, T. J. 16 Leeward Maroons 76 Leftist activism in Caribbean see student activism of Caribbean Left left-wing political action 337; assassination of 336; leadership 335; movements 341; student political activism 339; see also student activism of Caribbean Left legal framework 128–130, 275, 308, 347 legal reform 134–135 Lehti, M. 240 Lei, L. 125 Le Masson, V. 108 Lennox, C. 126 Leppert, S. 190 Lequesne, C. 289 Leruth, B. 254, 255 Le Tissier, M. 56 Lewis-Cameron, A. 13–23 Lewis, D. E. 191 Lewis, G. 333 LGBQTI+, movement for rights in Cyprus 351 LGBTI Accept Cyprus (Accept) 351 LGBT movement/rights 125–126 LGBTQI+, queer festivals with 125, 130–133, 353 LGBTQIA+ CSOs 123–124; civil society and political structure 125; comparative analysis 133–134; sexual orientation, literature on 125–126; social movements, civil society and civic activism 124; in Trinidad and Tobago 126–130 Liaison Unit of Non-Governmental Organisations (LUNGOS) 154 Liao, Z. 147 Liebman, H. M. 249 Ligaiula, P. 101 Lijphart, A. 303 Liki, A. 138–148 Lilo, G. D. 212–213 Lindahl, F. 336 Lindberg, S. I. 63, 70 Lindenberger, T. 249 Linde, S. 190 Lindskog, P. A. 26 Linton, L. 79 Lisowski, M. 49 List, R. 248, 249, 259 Liu, Y. 207 Loader, B. D. 97 lobbying 55, 64, 143, 207; fa’afafine and 139; Family Protection Law and 322; government officials 323; inside/outside 277–278, 282, 289; by Pacific Regional Civil Society Group 101; on policy issues 275 Lofland, J. 64 Logan, S. 205

370

London Convention 96 London Missionary Society 224 London School of Economics 333 Lopes, J. 27 Lopes, J. M. G. 26–43 Lopes, J. V. 26 Lopes, M. 26 Lorenzini, J. 235, 237, 238, 239 Louise, C. 349 Louis, W. R. 80 Lourdes, M. 47 Louys, J. 329n1 Lowenthal, D. 292 Lowndes, V. 290 Luchian, C. E. 116 Luchian, I. 116 Luescher, T. M. 338 Lührmann, A. 63, 70 Lukšic´, I. 262–270 Lundy, P. 88 Lusimbo, R. 126 Lutunatabua, F. 207 Lyew-Ayee, P. 75, 77, 78 MaB project 19–23; challenges in 20–22; internal deficiencies of 22 MacDonald, B. H. 49, 53 Maceda, E. 108 Machaj, L. 189 Maclellan, N. 210, 213–214 Macleod, J. 211 Madang Wansolwara Dance 2014 324, 329n25 Madisson, M. L. 241 Madlingozi, T. 79 Madon, S. 51 Maerz, S. 63, 70 mafioso democracy 310 Mageo, J. M. 138, 139, 141 Magnan, A. K. 98 Mahé 155, 156, 158–159 Mahon, R. 107 Maingot, A. P. 335–336 Mainwaring, C. 174, 175, 176 Majuro Declaration for Climate Leadership 98 Makamure, L. 153 Makgala, C. J. 222, 224 Makumbe, J. 221–222 Malielegaoi, T. S. 143 Mälksoo, L. 243 Mallam, P. 98 Maloney, W. A. 271n8, 277, 289 Malta 62; Electoral Commission 292; environmental issues in 63–64; migrant support in 174–187; participatory model of CSOs in 268; politics and protest in 63; protests in 64; Refugee Council 180; see also environmental protest, in Malta

Index

Maltese CSOs 288–289; business enterprise in 297, 298; economic prosperity and good governance 292–293; effect of actions by 298; interest groups, and trust/scepticism dynamic 289–290; leading political parties in 297, 298; mass mobilization by 295; media in 297, 298; political landscape of 290–292; role of, Galizia’s assassination and 293–299; trust and scepticism, levels of 298 Maltese farmers (Malta) 67, 69, 69 Malua Conference of Churches and Missions (Samoa, 1961) 97 Mambor, V. 212 Man and the Biosphere (MaB) designation 13, 14–15, 19–23 Manifeste des Revendications d’un Peuple en Mouvement (CARES) 306 Manley, N. 333 Maoism 333 Mara, S. 93–103 Marchetti, R. 107 Mardell, A. 125 Margalit, Y. 292 Mari Naval Base Accident (2011) 349 Marks, G. 163 maroons: -British relations 76; communities in Jamaica 74–78; movement 81; see also Cockpit Country (Jamaica) Marovic´, J. 269 Marrone, J. A. 147 Marshall, C. 154 Mars, P. 334 Martel-Morin, M. 65 Martin, A. 239 Marxism-Leninism 333 Marxist-inspired Committee of Women for Progress (Jamaica) 339 Marx, K. 305 masculinist: character in Caribbean political culture 340; resistances to women’s leadership 341; structure of organization 333 Masella, C. 51 Maskrey, A. 108, 109 mass mobilization by CSOs 295 Mateo, G. 277 Mathias, J. 78 Mauritius 302–303; challenges to overhauling the system 310–311; civil society and social movements in 304–305; LGBTQIA+ activism in 130–133; overhauling of system 306; protest marches 306–310 Mauritius Criminal Code Act (1838) 132 Mauritius National Human Rights Commission 132, 133 Mavratsas, C. 345, 346 Mavrodieva, A. V. 109 McAdam, D. 28, 345

McAlsan Fraser, E. 80 MCCA see Methodist Church of the Caribbean and Americas (MCCA) McCarthy, J. D. 28, 35, 239 McConney, P. 49, 107 McCool, S. F. 16 McDaniel, C. N. 79 McGregor, I. 49 McLellan, J. 322 McLellan, N. 319 McSweeney, J. 191 McVeigh, K. 101 Meadows, D. H. 94 Mediterranean Institute for Gender Studies 351 Meeks, B. 336 Meerman, J. 47 Meilak, N. 296 Melbourne, B. 195, 196 Meltzer, A. H. 291, 292 membership influence, in North Macedonian CSOs 277, 280, 281 membership involvement, in North Macedonian CSOs 277, 281–282, 282 memory politics 243 Menzies, G. 41n2 Mercer, C. 18, 21 Mercer, J. 108 meritocracy 307 Mertan, B. 351 Messa, A. 177–179, 181–185 Mesulam, J. 325 Methodist Church of the Caribbean and Americas (MCCA) 193–195, 198 #MeToo movement 353 Meyer, D. S. 28, 80 Meyer, M. 275, 276 Mezele, N. 175 Micallef, A. 64 migrants and refugees 5, 165–167; Archdiocese’s Ministry for Migrants and Refugees 198–199; Catholic Commission for Social Justice 198–199; immigrant rights, in Cyprus 352; see also migration governance; Refugee and Migrant Response Plan in the Caribbean Sub-Region (RMRP Caribbean) migrant support NGOs 174–177; characteristics of 177–178; COVID-19 Pandemic, impact of 179–181; in Malta, Cyprus and Slovenia 174–187; operational and financial capacities 182–183; political and societal discourse about 183–184; refugee crisis, impact of 178–179; shrinking space of 184–186; working during pandemic 181–182 migration governance: Aruba 168–169; Curaçao 169–170; emerging patterns 167–170; Guyana 167–168; multi-level governance 163–164;

371

Index role of civil society in 163–171; Trinidad and Tobago 167 Mijnarends, D. 115 Mileti, D. S. 108 Miller, D. J. 75 Millner, R. 275, 276 mining: deep-sea, in Pacific small island developing states 93–102; in Jamaica 78–79 Ministry of Agricultural Development and Food Security 226 Ministry of Environment, Tourism and Natural Resources 226 Ministry of European Affairs of Montenegro 264 Ministry of Forestry, Fisheries and Sustainable Development (Belize) 48 Ministry of Public Administration, Digital Society and Media (Montenegro) 264 Ministry of Women, Community and Social Development (Samoa) 140, 147 Ministry of Youth, Sports and Family (Seychelles) 158 Minkoff, D. C. 28 Minogue, M. 308 MISA4thePacific 320 Mitchell, B. A. 48 Mittelman, J. H. 80 Mizzi, K. 296 Moder, C. 275 Modest, N. 195 Modinos, A. 351 Mohanty, M. 50 Moiwend, R. 211 Mol, A. P. 49 Molin, M. D. 51 Molutsi, P. 219–231 Moncada, S. 46–58, 95 Monjane, P. 33 Monstat 262 Monteiro, A. M. 30 Montenegro 262–263; CSO participation in negotiation process 269–270; European Union accession process 265–266, 267–269; funding for NGOs from 265; participatory model for 265–266, 267–269; on path to EU 263; role of civil society in 263–265 Montiel, C. J. 80 Montoute, A. 107, 189–200 Morgan, L. M. 141 Morna, C. L. 153 Morrissey, L. 105 Moses-Wothke, J. 14, 15 Moules, N. J. 139 Moutselos, M. 344–353 Movement for Democratic Change political party 223 Movement for Equality, Support, Anti-racism (KISA) 352

372

Movement for the Survival of Ogoni People (Nigeria) 27 Moviment Graffitti 66–69, 67, 71, 294 Movimento 350 Cabo Verde 35 Movimento Para a Democracia (Cabo Verde) 31 Moyo, B. 226, 227 MSG group 209 Mucavele, A. 33 Muk, S. 264 Mulalap, C. Y. 95, 96 Mulé, N. J. 126 Mulyasari, F. 107 Munene, J. W. 17, 20 Munson, Z. 28 Murday, L. 306 Muscat, C. 294 Muscat, J. 292–298 Musso, J. A. 50 Mycoo, M. 95 Myers, M. 108 Nabobo-Baba, U. 140 Nagode, M. 249 Naidoo, K. 248, 249 Naidu, V. 314–328 Nair, N. 128 Namuaira, A. 93–103 Namwase, S. 132, 134 Narayan, A. 306, 310 narratives, ICTs and 208 Narsinghen, R. 306 Nasibov, M. 220, 221 National Biodiversity Strategy and Action Plan 48 National Climate Change Office. 47 National Convention on the European Integration of Montenegro (NCEI) 269 National Convention on the European Union in Serbia (NCEU) 266, 267, 271n12 National Directorate of Environment 29 National Emergency Management Organisation (NEMO) 105–106, 111–116 National Federation Party 329n11 Nationalist Party 63, 291 national NGOs 170 National Policy for NGOs (2012) (Botswana) 226, 230 National Policy on Inclusive Governance 2021–2031 140 National Protected Areas System Act 48, 55 National Reconstruction programme 29–30 National Security Archive 211 NATO see North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) Nature Conservancy (TNC) 55 Nature Trust 71 Nauru Agreement (PNA) 95, 102n3

Index

Nauru government’s decision 93 Nauru International Seabed Minerals Act (2015) 94 Nautilus Minerals 323, 325, 330n26 Ndlovu-Gatsheni, S. 304 Neef, A. 204 negotiation process, participation of CSOs in 265–266; advantages of 269–270; Albania 266, 267; Croatia 266; Cyprus 268; Estonia 268; Malta 268; North Macedonia 266, 267; Serbia 266, 267; Slovakia 268; Slovenia 269 Nelsen, B. F. 189 Nelson, R. H. 27 Nemakonde, L. 109 neoliberalism 18, 80–82, 191 Neshikj, I. 264 network governance: Belize 50–51; defined 50; modes of 50–51; Tobago 17 networking 71, 115, 318; ENGOs 58; informal 139; initiatives 57; of NGOs 100; between NGOs 53; and partnerships 53, 157; regional 328; and relationship building 320, 323; social 211; strategy 67 Neubert, D. 219, 220, 304 Neumann, I. B. 206 Neumayr, M. 275 New Caledonia 317–320 Newey, I. 81 New Left and the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee 333 ‘New Left’ Movement 31 New Social Movements (Cyprus) 345 Newton Cain, T. 209 New York Botanical Garden 76 Nicolaou, A. 352 Nicol, N. 126 Nicosia 181, 344, 345, 350–353 Nielsen, K. L. 265 Night Watch Russian group 241 Nixon, P. G. 97 Njagi, J. 126 NKEU-MK 267 Noel, C. 77 No New Fossil Fuels, campaign for 98 non-heteronormative Samoans 141–142, 146 Norris, J. M. 139 North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) 240 North Leeward CDRTs 110, 112, 112 North Macedonian CSOs 274–276; democratic benefits of 276–277; membership and staff 278–283; participatory model of 266, 267; politically oriented 275, 277–278; socially oriented 275, 277–278 Norwegian Agency for Development Co-operation (NORAD) 228

‘Not Drowning but Fighting’ narrative contrasts 208 Not In My Back Yard (NIMBY) actions 351 Novak, M. 269, 274, 278, 284 Nowell, L. S. 139 nuclear colonialism 214, 316–320 Nuclear Free and Independent Pacific (NFIP) movement 96, 213, 316, 317–321 nuclear test 213–214, 316–320 Nulman, E. 68, 69, 79 Nunn, P. 95 Nyakujarah, L. J. 153 Obi, C. I. 26, 27 Occupy Buffer Zone movement (2011) 354n1 Occupy Justice, Malta 294, 297 ocean floor 94, 99 Oceania 314–315; civil society and social movements in 315–316; Nuclear Free and Independent Pacific movement 317–321; Pacific Women’s Network Against Violence Against Women 321–323; regional campaign against deep-sea mining 323–327 Oceans Declaration (2014) 94 O’Connor, S. 329n1 O’Donnell, M. 152 Offe, C. 345 Office of Disaster Preparedness and Emergency Management (ODPEM) (Jamaica) 197 Office of the High Commissioner of Human Rights (Botswana) 227 Official Gazette of Montenegro 265, 271n10 Ognenovska, S. 276, 278 Okazi, K. 111, 114, 115 Okubo, M. 79 Ollitrault, S. 71 O’Mahoney, J. 190, 290 O’Malley, E. 290 Onada, I. 333, 338 ‘one manism’ 340–341 one-woman WikiLeaks 293 Onken, E. C. 243 online consultations 280 Open Society Foundations 267 operational capacity 182–183 Opp, K. D. 64 opportunity cost 102 #OrangeAruba campaign 168 Ordanoski, S. 275, 276 organisational capacity 9, 226; for complex advocacy strategies 147; for effective strategic planning 18; of Western Balkan CSOs 274, 275 Organización del Sector Pesquero y Acuícola del Istmo Centroamericano (OSPESCA) 55, 59n15 organized civil society, defined 285n6

373

Index Osaka, S. 207, 208 Osborne, S. P. 255 Os Dhame 350, 353 Ostojic, M. 274, 276 Ourbak, T. 98 outsider interest groups 289–290 Overland-Magum CDRTs 110, 112, 112 overtourism, in Malta 63 Owia CDRTs 110, 112, 112 Oxford Committee for Famine Relief (OXFAM) 191 Özhabes¸, H. 107 Pace, R. 292, 293 Pacific Blue Line (PBL) 326 Pacific Blue Line Declaration 93, 99 Pacific Climate Warriors movement 316 Pacific Concerns Resource Centre (PCRC) 315, 319 Pacific Conference of Churches (PCC) 93, 100, 320 Pacific Island Climate Action Network 316 Pacific island countries (PICs) 204, 314, 315–316; see also individual countries Pacific Island Forum 324, 329n5 Pacific Islands Association of Non-Governmental Organizations (PIANGO) 93, 100, 210 Pacific Islands Forum (PIF) 207 Pacific Network on Globalisation (PANG) 93, 100, 320 Pacific Parliamentarian’ Alliance on Deep Sea Mining (PPADSM) 101, 327, 328 Pacific Regional Civil Society Group 94 Pacific small island developing states (PSIDS) 93–94; climate justice, social movements and 97–98; Development Alternatives with Women for a New Era (DAWN) 93, 101; literature search of research 98–99; Pacific Blue Line Declaration 93, 99; Pacific Conference of Churches (PCC) 93, 100; Pacific Islands Association of NGOS (PIANGO) 93, 100; Pacific Network on Globalization (PANG) 93, 100; politics, social movements and 97; social movements in 96–98; Tuvalu Climate Action Network 99; World Wide Fund for Nature Pacific (WWF) 93, 100–101 Pacific Women’s Network Against Violence Against Women (PWNAVAW) 316, 321–323 Painter, J. 207, 208 Palazzo, G. 97 Pan-Africanist movements 333 Panama Papers scandal 293, 299n1 Pancyprian Federation of Labour (PEO) 345, 348 Pancyprian Public Employees Trade Union 348 Pancyprian Volunteerism Coordinative Council 347

374

Panizzon, M. 163 Pantin, S. 335 Papadakis, Y. 348, 349, 352 Papaioannou, T. 351 Papa, V. 345 Papua Customary Council 210 Papua New Guinea (PNG) 208–210 Parameswaran, P. 212 Paris Agreement (2015) 98 parliament 242; of Cyprus 350, 351; European 292, 296; at Greenpeace 308; in Maltese 296; members of 93; of Solomon Islands 213; Vanuatu members of 210 Partelow, S. 56 Partido Africano da Independência de Cabo Verde 26, 31 partnership 114, 167, 292, 338; agreements 55, 183; alliance 32; community-based organizations and 115–116; between ENGOs 54; environmental 19; Jamaica Environment Trust 85; of Pacific civil societies 100; social 305 party politics, in jamaica 86–88 Pastore, F. 174, 175, 176, 177 Paul, J. 16, 20 Pauly, D. 47 Payne, A. 191 Payne, T. 292 peace 100, 107, 196, 212; bicommunal movement for 348–349; -making initiatives 264; organizations 318; and social cohesion 303; threatening 311; treaty 76 Peake, L. 341 Pearce, C. L. 147 Pearce, J. 191 Pearlman, M. 50 Pearson, R. 78 Pejovic´, A. A. 262–270 Pelling, M. 80 Penjueli, M. 94, 96, 97, 99, 100, 101–102 Penninx, R. 163 People’s National Movement administration 338 People’s National Party (PNP) 78 Pereira, F. 318 Perrett, R. W. 86 personalism, exaggerated 290, 291 Peterman, A. 152 Peters, C. 128 Peters, D. 335 Petrova, D. 126 Pettai, V. 236, 237, 242, 246n6 Pfitzner, N. 152 Pham, D. 115 Phileleftheros 346 Philippe, S. 319 Phillie, J. 81 Phillip, N. 341

Index

Phillips, G. 195 Phillips, P. 78, 87 Piaton, G. 268 Pickard, S. 62, 64 Pilbrow, J. 211 Pillai, S. 63, 70 Piper, N. 164, 171 Pirro, A. L. 238, 239 Pittman, J. B. 56 Plano de Acção Nacional Para o Ambiente (PANA II) 39 Plataforma das ONG de Cabo Verde 29, 30, 31, 35 PLATONG 29 PNG resource extraction 102 polarisation 63, 290, 292, 310 policy and advocacy ENGOs, Belize 49 political access, openness of 29–31 political alignments, stability of 31–32 political constraints 124 political engagement 163, 166, 170–172, 282 politically oriented CSOs in North Macedonian 275, 277–278; geographical area of operation 279, 280; members’ influence on 280, 281; members’ involvement in activities 281–282, 282; number of limitations 283; political activities 282–283, 283; sources of funding 276, 279, 279 political opportunity structures (POS) 28; alliance partners 32, 32; openness of formal political access 29–31; political alignments, stability of 31–32 political opportunity theory 124 political process theory 124 political structure 125, 250 Politico 288, 293 Pomeroy, R. 49 Pommerolle, M. 220 Porta, D. D. 351 post-communism 248–259 post-communist activism 6–7 post-communist civil societies 236, 274 post-communist transition 6–7, 9 Potter, D. M. 27 power: -based approach of milieu-shaping 265; cube model 164; dynamics 171; and legitimacy 336; Power in Movement 305; sharing (re-)arrangements 163 Powers, M. C. 78 Prakesh, A. 191 Prasad, A. 205 Pratt, L. 47 Pravno-informacijski center nevladnih organizacij (PIC) 178, 187n7 Precautionary Principle 324 Price, N. 130 Pridham, G. 271n8

Prime Minister of Albania 267 Privy Council 129 professionalization 71, 186, 253, 275, 315, 348 progressive policy 191, 339 protected areas: benefits of 56; establishment of 47–48; expansion of 86; generate public support for 57; management 52–53 ‘Protecting Vulnerable Women’ project 158 protest, event analysis 65, 239, 245; see also environmental protest, in Malta; Estonian protest waves; specific protests Provan, K. G. 50, 51, 52, 55 public interest group 275, 277, 285n1 public space 190, 304, 352–353 Putnam, R. D. 304 Quarantelli, E. L. 108 Quarantine Act 306–307 Quilala, D. 109 racism 101, 302, 334, 345; advocacy groups against 352; ecological 101 Radaelli, C. 271n8 Radebe, Z. 189 Radio New Zealand 210, 213 Ragodoo, N. J. 125 Ragoonath, B. 125 Raik, K. 237 Rail Baltica project 241 Rajoo, A. 309 Rakar, T. 248–259 Ramtohul, R. 306 Randers, J. 94 Rankin, J. 296 Rao, C. S. 79 rapidly growing economy 219–231 rare earth minerals 95 Rarotonga Treaty see South Pacific Nuclear Free Zone Treaty Rastafari movement 81–82 Raudla, R. 237, 242 reality construction process 28 Recchia, S. 28 reclaimed Melanesian-ness, concept of 209 Red Cross 224 Reddi, S. J. 305, 306, 307, 311 Reddock, R. 336 Refugee and Migrant Response Plan in the Caribbean Sub-Region (RMRP Caribbean) 162–163; Aruba 168–169; Curaçao 169–170; Guyana 167–168; Trinidad and Tobago 167; and Venezuelan migrants 165–167 refugees: climate 208; crisis, impact of 178–179; in Cyprus 346–347; impacts affecting 178–182; Muslim 177; see also migrants and refugees; migrant support NGOs Regenvanu, R. 102

375

Index regional integration 189; see also Caribbean; churches Regional Inter-Agency Coordination Platform (R4V) 162, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169, 199 regionalism: defined 205–206; grassroots 205–206; intergovernmental 316; state-led 205–206; see also bottom-up regionalism Regional Legislative and Regulatory Framework for Deep Sea Mineral Exploration and Exploitation 94 Regional Rights Resource Team 322 Regvar, U. 178, 179, 181–186 Rein, R. 268 renewable energy 99, 309 Repe, B. 250 repertoire 82, 344–354; action 62–64, 66, 314, 328; of contention 71; of LGBTQIA+ civil society 127; protest 71, 238; social 63 representation: emerging patterns for civil society in small states 167–170; lessons for civil society in small states 170–171 Repubblika, Malta 294, 295, 297 Republic of Botswana see Botswana Republic of Cyprus see Cyprus resetting tourism 20 Resilience of the Forestry Sector in Cabo Verde (REFLOR-CV) 32 resource mobilization 28, 35–36 Response Plan for Refugees and Migrants from Venezuela (RMRP) 165 restoration of Estonian independence 237 rhetorical criminalisation 176–177 Rhode, J. 128 Richard Coombes, E. H. 132 Richard, S. F. 291, 292 Richards, J. 126 Riddell, R. C. 191 Riedel, R. 274 rights 131–132, 223, 225, 304; citizenship 80, 88; of forced tenants 245, 246n6; and freedoms 131–133; immigrant 352; indigenous 210, 316, 318, 319; LGBT 125–126; LGBTQIA+ 4, 123, 130–135, 351; of local residents 34–35; of migrants 9, 164, 176; of Russian minorities 237, 240–243, 245; to self-determination 96, 100, 211; women’s 152, 191, 227, 289, 315, 321–323, 351; see also human rights Rihter, L. 248, 250, 251, 252, 256 Rikmann, E. 236 Rio de Janeiro Earth Summit (1992) 30, 94–95 risks and wealth 27 Risse, T. 271n8 Ristovski, B. 280 Ritter, N. 131 Rivera, L. 47

376

RMRP Caribbean see Refugee and Migrant Response Plan in the Caribbean Sub-Region (RMRP Caribbean) RNZ 145, 146 Robie, D. 206, 208, 211, 318 Robinson, D. 329n4 Robinson, T. 128 Robnett, B. 80 Rodney Affair (1968) 334–335 Rodney, W. 334 Rodriguez, E. G. 177 Roelvink, G. 95 Rohlehr, G. 335 Rohrschneider, R. 28 Roll, G. 265 Romagosa, F. 15, 16 Roman Catholic Church 129, 255 Rootes, C. 66, 79 Rosamond, B. 289 Rosche, D. 152 Rose, M. L. 125 Ross, A. 83 Rossman, G. B. 154 Rother, S. 164, 171 Rowland, C. 193 Roy, I. 124 Rozbicka, P. 274, 278, 284 Rucht, D. 97 Russia 237, 240–245 Russian minorities 237, 240–243, 245 Ruutsoo, R. 235, 236 Ryan, S. 125 Sachs, J. D. 95 SADC Gender Alliance Network 157 Sadiki, L. 62 Sahay, S. 51 Saint Vincent and the Grenadines (SVG) 105–106; CBDRM organizations, profile of 110; community-based disaster risk management 108–109; CSOs and governance in 107; CSOs in community-based disaster risk management 109; effective governance in Caribbean CSOs 107–108; map of 106 Salamon, L. M. 29, 249, 252, 254, 259 Salas, O. 48, 53 Saleh, L. 62 Salem, S. 206 Sale, P. F. 47 Salú pa Tur 169, 170 Salvation Army 193, 194, 197–198, 200n10 Sambhi, N. 210 Sammut, C. V. 64 Sammut Sassi, M. A. 292, 293 Samoa 138; country context of 140; fa’afafine and fa’afatama 141–142; non-heteronormative Samoans 141–142

Index

Samoa Bureau of Statistics 148n2 Samoa Fa’afafine Association (SFA) 139; CSO advocacy, embracing 145–146; cultural imperatives, working with 143–144; inception and profile of 142–143; leadership and members 146–148 Samoa National Human Rights Institution 140, 322 Samoa Office of the Ombudsman/National Human Rights Institution 138 Sanatan, A. P. 332–342 Sanatan Dharma Maha Sabha 129 Sanches, E. 27 Sandström, A. 51, 53 Sandy Bay CDRT 110 Sankar, V. S. 128 Sansone, K. 71 Sant Cassia, P. 296–297 Santos, J. 31 Sardan, J. P. O. 36 Sasse, G. 235, 239 Satow, Y. 317 Saunders, C. 71 Saunders, W. 109 Saurugger, S. 289 ‘Save Akamas’ 2015 campaign 351, 353 ‘Save Cockpit Country’ movement 84, 86–88 Saxonberg, S. 236 Scaramuzzino, R. 190 Schembri, K. 296 Schengen Agreement 175 Scherer, A. G. 97 Scherer, M. 189 Schierup, C.-U. 164, 171 Schimmelfennig, F. 124, 193 Schlüter, A. 56 Schmidt, J. 138, 139, 141 Schoeffel, P. 138, 139 Scholte, J. A. 17, 18, 20 Scholten, P. 163 Schubert, K. 254, 255 Schulz, C. 94 Scruton, R. 289 SDA Church Caribbean Union Conference 195 Sealy, W. U. 49 Sebany, M. 126 Sebudubudu, D. 219–231 Secretariat of the Pacific Community (SPC) 94, 209, 322 Seibel, W. 289 self-determination, West Papua’s struggle for 208–210 Selle, P. 260n4 Selwyn, R. 335 Semenyna, S. W. 144 Seng, O. C. 18 Senior, O. 76

Seo, H. 207 Serbia, participatory model of CSOs in 266, 267 Serbin, A. 192 Seuane, S. 33 Seventh-day Adventist (SDA) Church 195–196, 197 sexism, monosexism 131 sexual abuse 152, 153, 321 Sexual Offences Act in Trinidad and Tobago 127, 129, 133 sexual orientation, literature on 125–126 Seychelles GBV see gender-based violence (GBV) Shahid, A. 49 shared leadership, of Samoa Fa’afafine Association 146–148 Sharma, G. D. 16, 20 Sharpe, P. A. 82 Shaw, B. 329n1 Shaw, R. 107, 108, 109, 111, 114, 115 Shaw, T. M. 206 Shayesteh, F. 207 Shea, M. M. 207, 208 Sheller, M. 15 Shepherd, V. A. 341 Sherlock, P. 76 Shift News, The 297 Shine, R. 129 Shi, Y. 125 shock therapy principle 255 shrinking space, of migrant support NGOs 184–186 Sibthorpe, B. M. 114 Sidor, M. 50 Siikala, J. 140 Sik, E. 248 Silva, B. L. 26 Silver Lining Foundation 127 Simeant, J. 220 Singapore, tourism in 18 Singh, P. 330n31 Singing Revolution 235 Sivapragasam, M. 76 Siwatibau, S. 317 Skocpol, T. 28 Skoric, M. M. 49 Slatter, C. 1–10, 206, 314–328 Slovak Foreign Policy Association (SPFA) 267 Slovakia, participatory model of CSOs in 268 Slovenian civil society sector 248–249; characteristics and structure of 251–254; civil dialogue 255; as employers 252–253, 253; EU and globally vs. 254; government policy regarding civil dialogue 258–259; government’s attitude towards 258; historical background to development of 249–251; migrant support in 174–187; participatory

377

Index model of CSOs in 269; perceived impact, improvement in 258; primary fields of activity 251, 252; Slovenian welfare system, development of 254–255; sources of funding 253, 254; willingness to cooperate 256–257, 256–257 Small Island Developing States (SIDS) see specific states Smismans, S. 289, 290 Smith, D. J. 235, 240 Smith, R.-A. 105–117 Smith, R. H. 113, 115, 319 Snow, D. A. 28, 66, 237, 346 Snowden, M. 28 social constraints 123, 128–130 social constructivist approach 192 socialisms 249, 333, 335, 340 Socialist Student Conference (SSC) 332, 339–341 socially oriented CSOs, in North Macedonian 275, 277–278; geographical area of operation 279, 280; members’ influence on 280, 281; members’ involvement in activities 281–282, 282; number of limitations 283; political activities 282–283, 283; sources of funding 276, 279, 279 social media activism 205, 207–208; campaign in Pacific 210–212; engagement 340 social movement organizations (SMOs), in Malta 63 social partnership, ideology of 305 social repertoire 63 Söderbaum, F. 193, 206 Sojo, C. 192 Sokolowski, S. W. 248, 249, 252, 254, 259 solidarity 80, 307, 324; associative 221; collective 221; crisis mobilized 179; definition of 176–177; fa’afafine’s 143, 144; by lesbians 125; movement 209, 212; political 96, 316; of predominantly Afro-Jamaican groups 82; regional 194, 206, 316; with ‘Save the Cockpit’ movement 84–85; social 68, 127; style of advocacy 277 Solomon Islands 209, 213 Somolekae, G. 225, 228 Sonan, S. 348 Song, A. M. 56 So’o, A. 143 Sookrajowa, S. S. 306 Soomai, S. S. 49, 53 Sopelsa, B. 129 Sørensen, E. 50, 52, 55, 58 Soule, S. A. 66, 239 Sousa, L. P. 56 Sousa, N. 29, 31, 35 Southern African Development Community (SADC) 153

378

Southern Christian Leadership Conference (United States) 339 Southern Trelawny Environmental Agency 86 South Pacific Applied Geosciences Commission (SOPAC) 94 South Pacific Nuclear Free Zone Treaty 97, 318 sovereignty movements 82–84 ‘Sovietized Estonianness’ frame 237 Soviet war monument, Bronze Soldier 235, 240–241 Spaak, J. D. 41 space, politics of (Jamaica) 77–78 Spasovska, B. 264, 275, 276 Spazji Miftuħa (Open Spaces) 67–68 SPC-EU project 324 Sprague, J. 78 Spurga, S. 264 Spyrou, S. 351 Srebnik, P. 303 Srinivasan, P. 101 stakeholders 19–20, 55, 79, 110–116; diversity of 107; in global migration governance 163–164, 170, 171; in Maltese 294; in Mauritius 303; mining 78; in Montenegro’s EU accession process 265; in North Macedonia 284; organized protests 86; other non-party 98; in Seychelles GBV 155; tourism 14–17 Stambolieva, M. 254, 255 Stand up, Step up Seychelles (SUSUS) 155–156, 157 Stanley, R. 147 Stasiak, E. 108 state-civil society relations in Botswana 226–227 state-led regionalism 205–206 Statham, P. 346 Statius, T. 319 Stavenes, T. 277 Stearns, L. B. 28 Stefanovski, I. 269 Steinvall, A. 159 Stewart, S. 268 Stewart, T. 335 Strategy for Improving the Enabling Environment (2018) 264–265 strike: in Botswana 227; climate 68; in Estonia 236, 239, 241–244; hunger 64, 303; in Mauritius 306; public sector 241; in Samoa 146; teachers’ 240; in Tobago 13 Stritar, A. 175 Structural Adjustment Programmes 223 Stubbs, R. 193 student activism of Caribbean Left 332–336; Caribbean socialisms, archiving of 340; to enhancement of student life 337; ideological pluralism 339–340; ‘one manism’ 340–341; post-grenada revolution 336–337; social media engagement 340; sustainability, challenges of

Index

337; Trinidad and Tobago, ‘massification’ of higher education in 338–339; UWI Socialist Student Conference 339–341 Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee 339 Students for a Democratic Society (United States) 333 Su’a, A. 139 Subron, A. 305, 307, 311 Suiter, J. 290 Sullivan, F. 190 Sultana, R. G. 63 Summary Offences Act 128 Sunshine, C. A. 334 supplementary relationship, ECSOs and government (Cabo Verde) 36–39 support, for survivors and vulnerable groups 158; see also migrant support NGOs survey/survey methodology: Belize 51, 52, 57; Cabo Verde 26, 29, 31–32, 36; Cyprus 345, 347; Estonia 236, 245; by International Labor Organization 170; by IOM 166; Malta 63, 71; Montenegro 263; North Macedonia 278; Slovenia 248–249, 251, 253, 258 survivor of violence 158 sustainability: CDRTs’ issues of 114; challenges of 337; defined 114; lack of resources and 115; reactive response, overemphasis on 114–115 sustainable tourism development, Tobago: civil society organization in 17–23; and COVID-19 impact of 15–16; MaB project 19–23; non-governmental organizations, role in 18–19; tourism policy and governance of 16–17 Sutcliffe-Braithwaite, F. 129 Sutherland, W. 316, 317 Sutton, P. 291 Suva Declaration on Climate Change 98 Svetlik, I. 248 SVG Red Cross Society (SVGRC) 105, 111–116 Swaans, K. 115 Swedish International Development Agency (SIDA) 228 Sweeney, J. 295 Sweeting, M. M. 75, 78 Swiss Agency for Development and Cooperation 276 synergy 215 Taagepera, R. 236 Tack, C. C. 129 TACSO 274, 276 Talanoa, principles of 139 Tallo, I. 235 Tandrayen-Ragoobur, V. 95 Tarai, J. 204, 205, 206, 207, 208, 211 Tarrow, S. G. 28, 37, 79, 84, 124, 305

Tarte, S. 95 Tartu Peace Treaty 243 tautua (service) 143, 144, 145, 146 Tavares, E. N. 29, 31, 35 Tava, V. I. 27 Taylor, D. E. 28, 33, 34 Taylor-Gooby, P. 254, 255 Tcherkézoff, S. 141 Teaiwa, T. 324 Tearfund 113 Techera, E. J. 27 Teets, J. C. 109 Teixeira, E. K. 51 Terrelonge, A. 87 Tesluk, P. E. 147 Themistocleous, C. 349 Theodorou, E. 351 theory of mass psychology 305 Thessaloniki Summit 263, 271n7 ‘third sector’ of economy 289 Thomas, A. 16, 20 Thomas, C. S. 274 Thompson, K. 85 Thouez, C. 163, 171 Thurnberg, G. 68 Tice, H. S. 254 Tilly, C. 28, 79 Tilot, V. 95, 96 Tindall, D. B. 65 Titifanue, J. 204–215, 205, 206, 207, 208, 211, 214 Tobago 13–14; civil society organization in sustainable tourism development 17–23; location of 14; MaB project 19–23; Man and the Biosphere (MaB) designation of 14–15; sustainable tourism development and COVID-19 impact 15–16; tourism policy and governance of 16–17 Tobago House of Assembly (THA) 14 Tobago Main Ridge Forest Reserve 14 Tobago Tourism Agency Limited (TTAL) 14 Toepler, S. 248, 249, 259 Toikka, A. 244 Tomic, A. 175 Tonga Seabed Minerals Act (2014) 94 top-down approach 21 Topliyski, A. 29, 31, 35 Torfing, J. 50, 52, 55, 58 tourism: in Malta 63; resetting 20; in Singapore 18; see also sustainable tourism development, Tobago Tovarna Rog Squat 186 Towle, E. B. 141 trade union 347–348 Trajkovska, S. 278 transformation 28; lynchpin protests for 311; potential for 305

379

Index transnational racial capitalism 84 Traxler, N. 275, 276 Traynor, I. 241 Trechsel, A. H. 268 Trelawny Cockpit 86 Treré, E. 64 Triga, V. 345 Trimikliniotis, N. 352, 354 Trinidad and Tobago: civil society and migration governance in 167, 170; LGBTQIA+ activism in 126–130; ‘massification’ of higher education in 338–339; Venezuelan migrants in 167 Trinidad and Tobago Guardian 129 Trinidad and Tobago Transgender Coalition 127 True, J. 152 trust/scepticism: dynamic 289–290; levels of 298 Truth and Justice Commission 303 TTV Solidarity Network (TTVSOLNET) 167, 170 Tucker, G. E. 75 Tufte, E. R. 303 Turkish Cypriot 346, 348 Turner, J. 289 Tutu, D. 211 Tuvalu Climate Action Network 99 Tuvalu Seabed Minerals Act (2014) 94 Twigg, J. 108 two party system 291, 296 Uba, K. 235–245 Uhlin, A. 275, 276, 277, 278 Uitto, J. I. 80 Uljarevic´, D. 264 Ulloa, A. 86 Underhill Sem, Y. 206, 315, 316 Unite Cyprus Now (UCN) 349 United Liberation Movement for West Papua (ULMWP) 210 United Nations (UN) 108, 131, 152, 177; in civil society and migration governance 163–164; Climate Change Conference 207–208; Conference on Environment and Development 30, 94–95; Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW) 322; Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) 93; Department of Economic and Social Affairs (UNDESA) 152; Development Programme (UNDP) 35, 153, 349; Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) 13, 14; Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) 32; Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) 98; High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) 151, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169, 170, 181, 199; Human Rights Council (UNHRC) 132, 315; Office for Disaster Risk Reduction (UNDRR) 108; Sustainable

380

Development Goal (SDGs) 152; UNICEF 322; UN Women 152, 322 University College of the West Indies (UWI) 333–334 University of the South Pacific (USP) 214 University of the West Indies (UWI) 109, 332, 339–341 University of the West Indies Seismic Research Centre (UWI SRC) 105 University Students African Revolutionary Front 333 Unkovski-Korica, V. 249 UNPO.org 211 Uphoff, N. 124 Ursel, S. 126 US Agency for International Development (USAID) 32, 228, 349 Ushie, B. 126 Va’a, U. L. 143 Vachudova, M. A. 271n8 Va˘idianu, N. 56 Vaioleti, T. M. 140 Van Assche, K. 56 van Brakel, W. H. 115 Van de Donk, W. 97 VanderLaan, D. P. 139, 144 Van Deth, J. W. 271n8 Vandor, P. 275, 276 van Esch, C. 157–158 Vanhuysse, P. 241 van Niekerk, D. 109, 113, 115 van Riemsdijk, M. 163 van Riet, G. 115 Van Schendelen, R. 290 Van Stekelenburg, J. 237 Vanuatu 209–210, 213 Varea, R. 204, 205 Vasey, P. L. 139, 144 Vasilara, M. 268 Vassallo, M. T. 288–299 V-Dem Institute 306, 345 Veenendaal, W. 63, 109, 291, 297, 310 Vehar, M. 250 Venezolanos Residentes en Curaçao (VENEX) 169–170, 171 Venezuelan migrants 162–163; in Aruba 168–169; in Curaçao 169–170; in Guyana 167–168; RMRP Caribbean and 165–167; in Trinidad and Tobago 167 Ventsel, A. 241 Vergopoulos, H. 18 Verschoore, J. R. 51 Versteeg, W. 33 victim of violence 134, 158–159, 321–323 ˇ Vidacak, I. 274 Vierros, M. 49

Index

Vihalemm, P. 235, 236, 237 Vihalemm, T. 242 Vihma, P. 244 Vilardo, P. 124 Viles, H. A. 75 violence against women 151–152, 328; see also gender-based violence (GBV); women Visanich, V. 64 Visser, J. 237 Vogel, B. 349 Vogiatzoglou, M. 350, 354 Vogt, H. 237 Vojnovic, ˇ M. 248, 249, 250, 251, 252 volcanic eruption 113; CDRTs during effusive phase of 113; CDRTs during explosive phase of 113–114; of Soufrière volcano 114 volunteering 276, 347 Vorster, J. M. 190 voters 291–293, 296–297 Vrbica, S. 249 Vu, H. T. 207 vulnerability: climate change 97; economic and environmental 303; overall, narrative of 208 vulnerable groups, support for 158 Waddell, E. 314 Wadsworth, J. 100, 101, 102 Wahab, A. 126, 130 Wahlström, M. 63 Waites, M. 126 Wakashio oil spill 306, 307, 309 Walker, P. 48 Walker, R. 316, 317 Walker, T. B. 16 Walker, Z. 48 Walsolwara Voice for West Papua 211 Warleigh, A. 263 Warner, A. M. 95 War of Monuments, in Estonia 235, 240 Warren, M. E. 124, 275, 277 Warrington, E. 290 Warwick principles 321, 329n15 Waugh, P. 126 WCED see World Commission on Environment and Development (WCED) Webber, D. 77 Webb-Gannon, C. 209, 210, 213 Webb, M. 209 Weber, K. 221 We Bleed Black, and Red Movement 211 Wegner, D. 51 Wehn, U. 116 Weidmann, N. B. 239 Weiler, F. 277 Weir, C. 316 Weisbrod, B. A. 27 Wekesah, F. 126

welfare system (Slovenian) 254–255, 259n2 Wells, R. W. 114 Wenda, B. 211 Wendt, A. 192 Wepprecht, M. 124 Werner, T. 289 Western Balkans 264, 274–275 Western Samoa see Samoa Westmaas, N. 334 West Papua: Indonesia’s response to the growing regional consciousness of 212–213; self-determination, struggle for 208–210; social media and campaign 210–212 West Papua National Coalition for Liberation (WPNCL) 209, 210 White, D. E. 139 Whitehorn, A. 249 Whiting, K. 157–158 Whittier, N. 80 Wijesinghe, G. 16 Willaert, K. 95, 96 Willett, J. 78 Williams, D. 317 Williams, E. 333, 334 Williams, J. K. 74–89 Wilson, G. K. 289 Windsor Research Centre (WRC) 75; ardent rhetoric against mining in Cockpit Country 85; Jamaica’s cockpit karsts and 75, 78 Windward Maroons 76 Winks, R. W. 76 Wintersberger, H. 248 Wise, R. D. 164 Wisner, B. 108, 109, 115 Wiwasukh, M. 205 Wolf, C. J. 27 women: discrimination against 151; empowerment of 152, 157, 341; rights 152, 191, 227, 289, 315, 321–323, 351; violence against 151–152, 328; see also feminist/feminism; gender-based violence (GBV) Women and Children Crisis (WCCC) 322 Women in Action and Solidarity (WASO) 155–156, 157 Women Return (Cyprus) 348, 351 Wood, L. J. 79 Woody, T. 330n30 Woolcock, M. 115 Workers’ Rights Act (2019) 132 World Bank 78, 153, 177, 330n26 World Commission on Environment and Development (WCED) 94 World Council of Churches (WCC) 100, 194, 195 World Methodist Council 200n3 World Travel & Tourism Council 14

381

Index World Wide Fund for Nature Pacific (WWF) 93, 100–101 World Wild Fund for Nature and Greenpeace 27 Worschech, S. 124 Wothke, A. 14, 15 Wright, P. 115 Wuest, B. 235, 237, 238, 239 Wu, J. S. 17, 20 Wunsch, N. 265, 274 XR Malta see Extinction Rebellion Malta Xuereb, M. 297 Xuereb, P. G. 289 Yadav, A. K. 79 Yahya, T. 212 Yam, K. C. 147 Yawen, L. 109 Yerbury, H. 49 Young, C. 47, 48

382

Young Men’s Christian Association (YMCA) 224 Youngsolwara (YS) 320, 329n25 Young Women’s Christian Association (YWCA) 224 youth: Caribbean 334; community-based disaster risk management 105–112; Cypriot 350–351, 354; in Grenada 340; Leftist organizations 339; LGBTQIA+ 127; Stand up, Step up Seychelles 157; urban 335; Venezuelan migrant 169 Žagar, I. Z. 177 Zald, M. N. 28, 35 Zalik, A. 95 Zavod Global 178, 179, 183, 187n6 Zhang, N. 49 Zhu, J. 147 Zimani, M. 178, 179, 181, 183, 185 Zimbabwe African National Union – Patriotic Front (ZANU-PF) 223