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Improving Local Governance With Citizen Engagement
Improving Local Governance With Citizen Engagement
Improving Local Governance With Citizen Engagement
Viktor Bensus
To cite this article: Viktor Bensus (2021) Improving local governance with citizen engagement?,
City, 25:1-2, 88-107, DOI: 10.1080/13604813.2021.1885913
Article views: 89
R
ecent studies have focused on participatory innovations—implemented
over the past three decades in cities around the world—as a means to
improve local governance and encourage citizen involvement in public
decision making. These innovations include mechanisms such as Participatory
Budgeting, town hall meetings, and hearings with authorities. They are the result
of a “generalized consensus” about the need to include citizen participation
mechanisms to enhance governance and the quality of democracy (Baiocchi
and Ganuza 2017). These innovations respond to citizenry’s demands for
transparency and inclusion in local decision-making processes, and to the new
communication channels that social media and information and communication
technologies have opened. Furthermore, participatory innovations are the result
of local governments’ need to address the challenges from decentralization
processes, associated with revenue allocation and investment attraction. When
implemented and institutionalized, these participatory innovations help to
socialize citizens into how to participate and help define what content falls
under the scope of participation.
This paper focuses on a subgroup of these innovations that I call quotidian
participatory mechanisms (QPMs), which are implemented and used for local
governance. These mechanisms are quotidian in their frequency, as well as in the
form they deal with public issues. I focus on QPMs for two main reasons. First,
since they are based on the personalized treatment of citizens’ demands and
complaints, local governments present them as models of direct democracy—
something that remains to be tested. Second, because the actions and dynamics
of everyday life play an essential role in shaping political dispositions and
actions, routine problem-solving reflects the rhythms of local life (Auyero and
Benzecry 2017).
Participatory innovations do not develop in a vacuum. They are related to
broader political and economic processes (Guarneros-Meza 2009). For instance,
neoliberal reforms from the 1990s made the attraction of real estate investments
and local taxpayers crucial for local governments’ funding (Barr and Dietz
2006). Moreover, decentralization and municipal reforms introduced local
participation as a feature of neoliberal governance in the 2000s (Remy 2011;
Calderón 2012). Therefore, the recent expansion of neoliberal governmentality
at the national and local scales is vital to understand participatory innovations
in Peru.
However, the political-economic context offers only a partial explanation
since participation design and its implementation shape both the citizen-
government relationship and the content of the demands presented. As research
in the Global South argues, some innovations have engaged middle classes in
local governance (Ellis 2012), providing them with more influence compared to
that of the urban poor (Ghertner 2011; Caldeira and Holston 2015). Nevertheless,
middle-classes’ engagement in governance is highly variable (Lemanski and
Tawa Lama-Rewal 2013). It may include these residents’ demands for rights
based on being taxpayers—what I refer to as a “customer-citizen logic.” At the
same time, the relationship between residents and local governments can favor
patronage politics.
Inspired by those debates, this paper discusses how the main participatory
mechanisms implemented by local governments in recent years—QPMs—shape 89
City 25–1–2
Local participation is usually presented as the sine qua non of urban governance,
understood as “the configuration of interactions between public and private
actors with a view of achieving collective (not private) goals in a particular
[urban] territory” (Melo and Baiocchi 2006, 591). Processes such as state
reforms, group and individual social action, and—particularly significant for
this research—urbanization patterns continuously reshape this relationship
(Guarneros-Meza and Geddes 2010).
However, not every type of civic engagement in governance and planning is
inclusive of citizens’ ideas. For instance, Arnstein’s (1969) “ladder of participation”
identifies some types of involvement that do not constitute participation, others
that are tokenistic (e.g. informing, consultation, and placation), and those that
empower citizens by including them in decision-making processes. What
differentiates tokenistic and the citizen-empowerment types of engagement is
that the latter format fosters the political dimension of participation, for which
citizen deliberation is a crucial element (Fung and Wright 2001). Therefore, the
legitimacy of participatory mechanisms lies in the quality of the deliberation
such mechanisms promote (or not) (Mansbridge et al. 2012).
Participatory innovations implemented in Latin America during the last
decades have caught the attention of several scholars in both the Global North
and South because of their democratizing effects on inclusion and accountability
(Fung 2011; Peruzzotti 2012). Conversely, others have also stressed their
demobilizing effects (Greaves 2005; Koppelman 2017) and the ways they help
incorporate neoliberal ethics into the urban poor’s citizenship claims (Pérez
2017). This research study focuses on a usually-overlooked type of participatory
90 innovation—quotidian participatory mechanisms.
Bensus: Improving local governance with citizen engagement?
QPMs are quotidian (i.e. mundane) in two senses. First, they work on a daily
or weekly basis, as opposed to other participatory innovations that are more
sporadic (e.g. participatory budgeting and town halls). Secondly, they address
routine urban problems (e.g. public safety and street cleaning) and they treat
as quotidian issues such as the effects of real estate dynamics. Despite their
differences, QPMs share three main characteristics: the search for efficient
solutions to quotidian problems, the use of information and communication
technologies, and the individualized treatment of common urban issues.
The rise of QPMs is particular in the context of how an entrepreneurial
type of urban management has been developed in Peru since the neoliberal
reforms of the early 1990s (Harvey 1989). The authoritarian government of
Alberto Fujimori (1990–2000) led the economic restructuring, among which
tax reforms were crucial for local governments. The taxation of local residents
and businesses, therefore, became one direct source of revenue for local
governments. This shift, however, has generated inequality across districts,
benefiting urban districts with a large concentration of taxable high-income
populations and businesses, and left the poorer districts more dependent on the
national government’s funding allocation (Barr and Dietz 2006).
In Peru, the local scale of government is the district, not the city. Each district—
there are fifty in Lima—has a local government, elected by popular vote since
1980. In 2003, the government of Alejandro Toledo implemented the Organic
Law of Municipalities, Law N° 27972. This law distributed various functions
to the local district-level government, including planning, street cleaning and
maintenance, audit functions, and citizen organization for participation.
The local governments’ generation of revenues took a different dynamic
during the real estate boom that started in 2006.4 In this context, district
municipalities started focusing on attracting real estate investment to increase
tax revenues. Together with state subsidies, different Peruvian governments
made construction permits flexible and reduced the time it took to get permits
as a means to incentivize economic growth. These policies, designed by the
national government, created new challenges for local governments on how
to deal with the rapidly shifting urban landscape and the increasing conflicts
between the demands of developers and residents.
Existing participatory mechanisms were not suited to deal with these new
challenges. For instance, the revocation of public authorities and referendums
requires gathering signatures from at least 25% of local voters (Remy 2011;
Calderón 2012). Another example is Participatory Budgeting, which became
a top-down national policy in 2003. This design affected both the citizenry’s
and the local authorities’ commitment to the process and excluded the
administrative reforms and communication channels present in more successful
models (Baiocchi 2005; Melgar 2014; Baiocchi and Ganuza 2014). Successive
governments further reformed Participatory Budgeting by increasing the
technical difficulties for project proposals and reducing participation to voting.
These reforms limited Participatory Budgeting’s efficacy as a space for citizen
proposal and deliberation (Remy 2011), while reinforcing the logic of non-
organized citizens as governance participants (Ganuza, Nez, and Morales 2014).
As Caldeira and Holston (2015) have argued, active citizen participation
is crucial for both neoliberalism and democracy. Participatory mechanisms 91
City 25–1–2
where individual citizens are the main subjects fit better the logic of neoliberal
governmentality because neoliberalism—as a mode of governmentality—“relies
on market knowledge and calculations for a politics of subjection and subject-
making” (Ong 2006, 13). Within this logic, individual active participation
becomes responsible for covering those services from which the state has
retreated (Rose 1999; Miraftab 2004a; Ong 2006).5
Critical perspectives on the implementation of participation in urban
governance have denounced them as a passive revolution strategy (Nash 2013;
Davies 2014). Top-down reforms give local governments discretion over what
demands are incorporated (Gray 2010), and who and what is included under the
scope of participation (Greaves 2005; Harwood 2007). Others have criticized
that traditional governance literature incorrectly assumes that more civic
participation leads to a decrease in state power (Blakeley 2010). Scholars have
also shown that participatory innovations help to engage middle-class citizens in
logics of urban governance (Ellis 2012) while opening space for them to impose
their values on other residents (Williams et al. 2018). In short, participatory
innovations increase the highly educated and time-flexible middle-class
residents’ influence on local government at the expense of the working class
and the urban poor (Ghertner 2011, 2012; Caldeira and Holston 2015).
However, these critical approaches tend to neglect the state’s coercive actions
(Davies 2014) as well as parallel democratization processes (Baiocchi and Ganuza
2017). They also fail to explain why and how some individuals and groups are
not entirely docile, dominated, or shaped by power (Pereyra 2011). This paper
contributes to these ongoing debates by analyzing the urban governance model
in which QPMs are incorporated. Furthermore, the paper analyzes how the
relationship between residents and local government is shaped by fostering
either a customer-citizenship logic or a patronage logic. I understand the
patronage logic as a result of routine face-to-face interactions between brokers
and clients who exchange access to services for (potential) political support
(Auyero and Benzecry 2017). In contrast, middle-class customer-citizens “claim
respectability [and access to services] based on taxpaying and ‘good’ citizenship”
(Lemanski and Tawa Lama-Rewal 2013, 98). To paraphrase Mills (1959), the
risk with these logics, I argue, is that public issues are addressed as personal
problems.
Miraflores and San Miguel are two middle-class districts located in the coastal
part of the high-rent central area of Lima (see Figure 1). They host some of the
larger employment, leisure, and educational metropolitan nodes (Chion 2002;
Gonzales and Del Pozo 2012; Vega Centeno et al. 2019). They differ, however,
in their social composition. While the local imaginary associates Miraflores’
residents with posh people or pitucos, San Miguel is more diverse with
wealthy neighborhoods facing the ocean, middle-class apartment projects, and
autoconstructed areas.
The concentration of nodes and their location within the metropolis made
92 them two of the most attractive districts for the construction of new apartments
Bensus: Improving local governance with citizen engagement?
Figure 1: Locations of Miraflores and San Miguel within the Metropolitan Area of Lima. For the most part,
the central area has been formally urbanized as opposed to the autoconstructed barriadas in the peripheries
(Source: Author’s illustration).
(see Figure 2). Figure 2 provides the average number of new apartments built
by district between 2006 and 2016. Over this decade, construction in these two
districts was above the metropolitan average. Out of the more than 200,000
new apartments built in Lima during that period, Miraflores accounted for
9.3%, and San Miguel accounted for 9.1% of the total number. As a result of the
densities associated with the new developments, conflicts between residents,
developers, business owners, and municipalities arose. It is in this context that
some local governments implemented QPMs in order to ease and make more
efficient urban management, planning, and governance.
Figure 2: Annual numbers of new apartments built by district, 2006–2016 (Source: Cámara Peruana de la
Construcción (2006–2016)).
who approach them. Second, they inform residents of events organized by the
municipality (e.g. inaugurations and workshops). Finally, they apply surveys to
gather residents’ approval or disapproval of zoning changes and infrastructure
interventions.
and business owners to know their opinions about specific proposals. Moreover,
the community leaders I interviewed did not know about the planning process.
Like many other cities around the world (see Ellis 2012), Miraflores
implemented a series of policies to address new challenges, which focused on
the exclusiveness of living in the district. A high-ranking official explained how
Miraflores addresses the challenges that came along with the real estate boom:
“There are more buildings now […] For each building, we have to pick up more
trash, sweep the streets more often, have more safety because more people
are circulating in the streets. Thus, the municipality has to adapt its quality to
what the residents want.” Other policies focused on regulating construction
by creating requirements that ultimately made housing more expensive. For
instance, a new ordinance sets limits to the minimum square footage for
apartments and requires the construction of at least one in-building parking
spot for each apartment. In short, the municipality’s goal was to give an efficient
solution to residents’ demands while keeping attracting new developments and
taxpayers.7
In the face of the new challenges posed by construction and residents’
demands, mid and long-term plans became less relevant. The officials interviewed
mentioned that ordinances and annual operational guidelines were the most
important tools they use for their work. Nevertheless, participation has been
virtually absent during the elaboration of new ordinances. As the quote from
the high-ranking official suggests, everyday problems and demands are the
municipality’s priority now. Thus, as opposed to what Remy (2005) found, civic
engagement is exclusive and has been reduced to non-binding participation
for the elaboration of long-term plans, but it has become more critical for the
resolution of quotidian problems. It is in this context that the hearings have
become the main channel for participation, although they are disconnected
from planning.
The waiting experience for the different stages of the hearing is a second
salient dimension of the customer-citizenship logic. Recent research on the
waiting of the urban poor in Latin American countries has highlighted the long
periods they usually face to receive services (Auyero 2011; Koppelman 2018).
Conversely, municipal officials from the NPD make an effort to keep the middle-
class residents’ waiting periods short.
The waiting time increases with the passing of the hours. Since the number
of officials is limited, and there are some highly demanded departments, some
residents have to wait between 30 and 45 min, which contrasts with the days
or years that the urban poor wait for services in Auyero’s and Koppelman’s
accounts. During my observations of the hearings, I witnessed a few cases in
which visitors complained vehemently about waiting for 40 min. In all these
cases, officials apologized and tried to calm down the person complaining. In a
few cases, the visitors even succeeded in getting faster assistance.
Other factors that affect the waiting time include a visitor’s familiarity
towards the municipal official who calls the list, or if the official knows the
resident’s case. In both cases, the official might use their discretion to skip turns.
As one official describes it, “There are some [residents] that always come, we
know them already. Others come and ask for the department. Some other times,
they come and describe the case to us, and we identify to what area [the cases]
correspond.” The officials decide, depending on the visitors’ description and
their local knowledge (Durose 2009), what departments should send officials to
help the visitors with their demands.8
As Lipsky ([1980] 2010) suggests, services organized on a first-come, first-
served logic—such as hearings—force clients to wait in a seemingly fair fashion.
This apparent fairness hides that waiting lists increase officials’ discretion on
calling people out of turn (Lipsky [1980] 2010). Furthermore, in contrast to
the urban poor, middle-class residents do not risk their access to services by
confronting officials and demanding faster assistance. The residents’ relationship
with the local government as customers, consequently, also informs how people
present demands.
Table 1: Overall distribution of the topics discussed at public hearings from 2011 to 2016.
The first step is gathering information. […] After we [the municipality] see what we
want to do, just then, we are going to start interviewing the residents. […] Because
if we don’t have a clear idea of what we kind of want, we won’t be able to tell the
resident [the vision for the district].
For example, for a zoning change, you are required to consult the residents. And they
[the promoters] are like “little ants” that are working on the street to see … how the
district is developing and what are the [residents’] needs, so we can generate policies
related to the residents’ comfort.
The previous two sections highlighted, by juxtaposition, how QPMs shape the
relationships between residents and their local governments differently. The
weekly hearings and the promoter’s daily rounds share, however, some features
worth exploring. They are examples of invited spaces9 (Miraftab 2004b) that
create individualized channels for participation. Consequently, they both
exclude spaces for deliberation and encounter that would foster the framing of
common issues and communal expectations about their districts’ future. That is,
they have a depoliticizing effect.
The main characteristic of the resident-municipality relationship is that it
excludes the political dimension of participation through different means.
This exclusion has happened, initially, through the shift from mid- and long-
term planning towards a new type of participation—namely, individualized,
with short waiting periods, and promoting new types of citizenship. First, in
Miraflores and San Miguel, the residents are told that they will not have to wait
for long periods; efficiency is the motto of QPMs. When middle-class residents
feel they have been waiting for too long, they can complain vehemently or call
and text municipal officials, without risking their access to services. 101
City 25–1–2
Second, these two QPMs facilitate the state’s role in mediating conflicts—
particularly avoiding them by excluding third parties. Even when the individual
presenting demands is a community representative, they usually present them
as private concerns, rather than as part of a coordinated civic action (Lichterman
and Eliasoph 2014). Through the atomization of participation, QPMs socialize
residents to participate as private individuals. Thus, the access to services is
mediated by residents being taxpayers or by the relationship of patronage they
have with the municipality.
The analysis of QPMs also challenges some common assumptions about
neoliberal governmentality and middle-classes’ participation. First, demands do
not always align with non-coercive neoliberal governmentality (Davies 2014).
In the hearings, a large percentage of demands related to the audit and safety
roles of the local government (see Table 1). In other words, they demand that the
state deploys its coercive functions to reproduce ideals of tranquility and order
in public spaces. Furthermore, some of the residents’ complaints are in tension
with the local government’s developmental goals. For instance, Table 1 shows
that, although decreasing over the years, hearings related to conflicts caused
by new constructions were the fifth more frequent topic in Miraflores. In an
example from San Miguel, a resident stated that “The cliff area is full of 20-story
buildings […] becom[ing] exclusive. People farther inland can’t see the ocean
anymore.” In sum, QPMs hardly help to reproduce the self-regulatory logic of
neoliberal governmentality (see Rose 1999; Ong 2006).
Regarding middle-class participation, scholars have argued that their demands
are informed by class aspirations and ideas of tranquility, order, and cleanliness
(Ghertner 2011; Ellis 2012). However, municipalities do not use the information
that QPMs produce for planning. Here the quotidian dimension of participation
and demand satisfaction becomes more relevant for the reproduction of middle-
class values and ideals of commodified urban development. Regarding this issue,
further research should analyze which factions of the middle class hegemonize
their interests (Fernandes and Heller 2006; Lemanski and Tawa Lama-Rewal
2013).10 The fact QPMs exclude spaces for deliberation and discussion about a
shared vision for the district makes explanations about middle-class hegemony
even more complex.
Finally, the direct and individualized relationship residents have with local
officials makes communal engagement seem unnecessary. As an official from
Miraflores describes it:
The distance between citizens and authorities has shortened, but the distance
between residents has increased. People don’t know who lives next to them anymore.
That’s why […] the atomization of [participation] has entailed the atomization of
collective rights performance.
Some residents echo this perspective. For instance, a community leader from
Miraflores told me about a woman who contacted her with concerns about
recent crimes that happened in their neighborhood. The community leader
interpreted this action as passive and inefficient. Therefore, in this and similar
situations, the community leader explained, she encourages her neighbors to
102 present their cases directly to the municipality.
Bensus: Improving local governance with citizen engagement?
As the two cases discussed here show, local governments have implemented
a series of policy changes that reproduce some neoliberal logics. In a context
where attracting investment and taxpayers are the main municipal goals, QPMs
create efficiency for governance and shape the relationship between local
governments and residents. However, they have a different effect than cases in
which neoliberal governmentality fosters an individual’s moral engagement to a
community through participation (Rose 1999; Pérez 2017). The routine one-on-
one relationships that QPMs prioritize converges with the types of citizenships
they foment—associating service access to tax-paying or potential political
support. As a consequence, both residents and officials use them to treat urban
public issues as private problems. Without spaces for or intention to generate
communal civic engagement, participation is depoliticized.
Conclusions
QPMs socialize residents into how to engage in governance, which can make
collective action and deliberation seem inefficient. The expansion of models
such as the weekly hearings to other lower-income districts of Lima (Cohaila
2016) and their promotion as an exemplary managerial practice call for further
research and critique.
Although the limitations for fostering political civic engagement are inherent
in the design of QPMs, they still present some opportunities. Groups and
individuals could take advantage of the existing active participation to channel
proposals critical of neoliberal governance and development, as in the examples
of civic governmentality discussed by Roy (2009). Furthermore, residents should
demand the systematization and socialization of the information gathered
through QPMs. This action would require the creation and reactivation of
deliberative spaces of participation for both governance and planning. In other
words, it is necessary to re-politicize everyday life through quotidian and
sporadic actions that help transform and subvert the current urbanization model.
107