ONE FOOT IN EACH BOAT: THE MACRO POLITICS AND MICRO SOCIOLOGY OF NGOs IN BANGLADESH

submitted by Joseph Devine for the degree of Ph.D. of the University of Bath 1999

COPYRIGHT

Attention is drawn to the fact that copyright of this thesis rests with its author. This copy of the thesis has been supplied on condition that anyone who consults it is understood to recognise that its copyright rests with its author and that no quotation from the thesis and no information derived from it may be published without the prior written consent of the author. This thesis may be made available for consultation within the University Library and may be photocopied or lent to other libraries for the purposes of consultation.

to elisabeth and James devine for the gift of life,

and to the xaverians, John fagan and yuri nakamura for asking and teaching me to live that life fully, and to live so that others may live their lives fully.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to record my gratitude John Fagan who first encouraged me to reflect more on the mechanisms underpinning the production and reproduction of poverty in Bangladesh. He continues to advise me on all that is important in my life

At Bath, I am indebted to Professor Geof Wood who supervised my work. Geof has a very acute and subtle understanding of life in Bangladesh and this has informed the essence of what is presented here. I have benefited from informed discussions especially with Dr. Allister McGregor, but also Benedict D'Rozario, lqbal Khan, Peter Davies and Mahbub Karim. In Bangladesh, Kayesh (I adopt the fictional names used in the thesis) and those at Shammo made my fieldwork stimulating and enjoyable. Kayesh is a very close friend. I have taken much from the villagers of Jaybash where I stayed in Bangladesh, and left so very little. Other friends who helped me there include Carol Chamberlain, Amira Evers, Gina Belsey, Golam Mustafa and family, Jeffrey Pereira, Fazle Hasan Abed, Syed Hashemi, Minar Monsoon, Qazi Faruque, Shamsul Huda, Kushi Kabir, Kama! Siddiqui, Ahmed Kamal and the late Richard Moorehead.

The friendship, concern and encouragement of Beppe Mauri, Sandro dell'Orto, Vincente Roca, Tanja Hague, Nicoletta del Franco, Denise Conway, Carol Chamberlain (again), Kayesh (again) and all those at `Nether St.' have been invaluable. Thanks to them and others not mentioned here, I was never alone in my work and that made a big difference.

I have shamelessly exploited the generosity of Sergo Targa and Yuri Nakamura. Both patiently read the whole thesis and helped substantially improve its content and presentation. Sergio has just completed his MPhil in History. Although he was studying polities that existed hundreds of years ago, we found that our respective researches had much in common. Our discussions strongly influenced the evolution of my thinking and his counsel forced me to reflect more deeply and write more responsibly. Yuri is a social scientist, a development researcher, a gentle observer of human life and a valued person in my life. She was already present on my right side before I stared the thesis and her encouragement, intellect and support have always been there for me in both the high and low moments. Thank you.

The thesis would not have been possible without the support and assistance of the Xaverians. My debt to them is immense and our lives, thankfully, intertwined. They arranged funding for the research project through the Longoni Foundation.

The final word goes to my family. My mum and dad have only and always wanted the best for me. I am blessed with and through their generous and unwavering love. Luckily, I have brothers and sisters to share that love: Ann Marie, Kevin, Jacqueline, Stephen and Martin. They, together with their respective families, occupy a very special place in my heart.

ABSTRACT

This thesis uses the experience of a particular Non Governmental Organisation (NGO) to explore the wider relationship between development interventions and social change in contemporary Bangladesh. Although NGOs are globally recognised as important development actors, their role becomes more incisive in cases where, as in Bangladesh, the struggle against poverty and uncertainty takes place in a context of pervasive scarcity and unpredictability.

In seeking to understand the role of NGOs in Bangladesh, the thesis rejects a narrow 'project centred' focus for a wider 'process orientated' one. The central tenet of this process orientated focus states that in order to understand the real significance of NGOs in Bangladesh, it is important to identify and interpret the multiple relationships they are engaged in and committed to. One of the important justifications for studying these relationships is that they offer insights into the negotiations and interactions between different key actors which in effect determine how power, the sine qua non for any discussion or praxis of social change, is configured and exercised in Bangladesh.

There are two main parts to the thesis and each consists of four chapters. The first part, theoretical in style, explores various aspects related to the research question. These include a literature review of NG0s, a historical analysis of the growth of the NGO community in Bangladesh and an account of its current status, an anthropological appreciation of the significance of poverty driven development initiatives, and a discussion on the methodological and epistemological foundations of my research process. The second part adopts a more traditional ethnographic genre. Here an attempt is made to trace and link the various alliances, networks and rivalries which both enable and constrain the NGO being studied to act in and influence three distinct but related domains: the local context, the policy arena and the national electoral process.

Both the introduction and conclusion of the thesis reflect on the broader link between the immediate research focus (developmental NG0s) and the dynamics of change in contemporary Bangladesh. The thesis will argue that the growth of organisations like NGOs in societies such as Bangladesh creates an institutional form which is basically hybrid in nature. Not surprisingly, neither the development community nor its multiple models and discourses can predict or adequately accommodate this structure of hybridity. Becoming more aware of this hybridity is however important in that it offers a key to both improved development practice and a more realistic understanding of how social change and transformation can best be stimulated.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Dedication Acknowledgements Abstract Illustrations

2 3

4 10

Introduction

11

Chapter One The Global Significance of NGOs

1. Introduction 2. The Notion of Paradigm 3. Understanding NGOs 3.1 Understanding through Definitions and Taxonomies 3.2 Understanding NGOs as Sectors 4. NGOs and Paradigm Anomalies 4.1 Modemisation Theory 4.2 Dependency Theory 4.3 Synthesis and Discussion 5. Paradigm Legitimised: The Global Acceptance of NGOs 5.1 NGOs and their Beneficiaries 5.2 NGO Organisation 6. The Resolution and Progress of the Paradigm 6.1 Scaling-Up 6.1.1 NGO Scale 6.1.2 NGO Focus 6.1.3 NGO Relations ad Infra 6.1.4 NGO Relations ad Extra 6.2 NG05: Strategic Institutions or Neo-liberal Apologists? 7. Conclusion 18

19 21 24 24 28 29 29 30 31 33 34 36 37 38 39 40 42 43 45 46

Chapter Two The National Significance of NG0s: the Case of Bangladesh

1 Introduction 2. State and Rural Development 3. The Emergence of NGOs 3.1 Development and Aid 3.2 Governance and Repression 3.3 The Nature of the State 4. NGOs in Bangladesh Today 4.1 NGO Numbers 4.2 NGO Coverage 4.3 NGO Constituencies 4.4. NGO Finances 5. NGO-State Relations 5.1 The 1990 Crises 5.2 The 1992 Crises 5.3 The 1996 Crises 6. The NGO Community 6.1 The Notion of Community 6.2. NGOs as Community 7. NG0s: Here to Stay? 7.1 The Franchise Model 7.2 The Financial Model 7.3 The Political Model 8. Conclusion

48

49 51 55 55 57 59 62 62 63 64 64 65 66 67 68 69 71 72 74 75 76 77 78

Chapter Three The Local Significance of NG0s: Making Relationships Work

1. Introduction

80

81 83 87 87 90 90 93 95 97

2. Resources, Capital and Survival 3. Social Models of Exchange

3.1 The Models of Exchange

3.2 The System of Exchange 3.2.1 Patronage 3.2.2 Factionalism 4. Organising the Poor

5. NGOs and Patronage: A Troubled Relationship

6. Is Bigger Better? 7. Conclusion

100 104

Chapter Four Confessions: Epistemology and Methodology

1. Introduction 2. Negotiating 'Process' 3. Negotiating 'Politics' 4. Negotiating 'Case Studies' 4.1 The Problem of the Research Site 4.2 The Problem of the Researcher 5. Negotiating 'Questions' 6. Negotiating 'Reflexivity', 'Positionality' and 'Hermeneutics' 7. Conclusion: Fusing Horizons 106

107 110 113 116 116 120 123 128 130

Chapter Five Shammo: An Introduction

1. Introduction 2. Shammo: The Setting 3. The Establishment of Shammo 4. The Building of a Public Profile 4.1 Shammo 1983-1985: Strength in Unity 4.2 Shammo 1985-1990: Conflict and Persecution 5. Using the Public Profile: Shammo Today 5.1 Expansion and Capacity Building 5.2 External Links and Networks 6. Conclusion 133

134 136 137 141 142 145 149 150 155 157

Chapter Six Shammo: Knitting New Forms of Patronage

1. Introduction 2. Reintroducing Patronage and Factions 3. Mapping Local Histories 4. Patrons and Clients Dividing the Rural Spoils

159

160 161 162 166

5. Shammo: The Emergence of a New Patron 5.1 Recruiting Clients

170 170 170 173 175 175 180 180 185 187 191

5.1.1 Recruitment through Mobilisation 5.1.2 Recruiting Core Clients 5.2 Consolidating Leadership 5.2.1 The Case of the Rival Leader 6. Shammo: Reworking Patronage 6.1 Networks, Patrons and Brokers 6.2 The NGO Community 6.3 Linking the Local Context 7. Conclusion

Chapter Seven Shammo and the Policy Process

I. Introduction 193

194 195 198 201 205 211 214 215 217 219 220 222

2. Understanding Policy Contexts and Networks 3. The Policy Process in Bangladesh 4. Joining the Game to Capture Resources 4.1 The Policy Community 4.2 Creating New Policy Communities 5. Distributing Resources to Stay in the Game 5.1 Core Members: the Case of Mahfuz

5.2 Followers and New Recruits: the Case of Mushtaque 5.3 Excluded: the Case of Roton 5.4 Crafting Entitlements: the Case of Kayesh 6. Conclusion

Chapter Eight Shammo and the Electoral Process

1. Introduction 1.1 The `NGO-Political Process' Nexus: an Unusual Conundrum 1.2 The `NGO-Political Process' Nexus in Bangladesh Embeddedness 2. The NGO Community and the 1996 Parliamentary Elections 3. The `NGO-Political Process' Nexus in Bangladesh: Factions 4. Shammo and the Political Process: an Unhappy Divorce 5. Shammo and Politics: Better Luck Second Time Round 224

225 225 226 229 235 237 239 8

6. Clientelism, Alliances and Trust 7. The `NGO-Political Process' Nexus in Bangladesh: Evolving 8. Conclusion

246 250 252

Conclusion
1. Introduction 2. Understanding Society and Change 3. Understanding Agency 4. Understanding Power 5. Understanding New Discourses and Practices

254

255 257 260 263 265

Appendices, Glossary, Acronyms and Bibliography

268

Appendix One: Focus Group Interview Themes Appendix Two: An Inquiry into NGO Electoral Strategies Essential Glossary Acronyms Bibliography

269 272 287 290 292

ILLUSTRATIONS

Figure 1 Table 1 Table 2 Diagram 1 Map 1 Organisation Chart 1 Organisation Chart 2 Diagram 2

An Attribute-Based NGO Typology A Sectoral Approach to NGOs Growth of Foreign Funded NGOs in Bangladesh Research Questions Research Area Shammo's Executive Committee Shammo's Management and Staff Structure Map of Local Power Structure with Names of Villages and Major Jotedars Map of Local Power Structure with Names of Villages and Major Jotedars Patron-Brokerage Organisational Clientelistic Brokerage The Rhodes-Marsh Typology of Policy Networks Land Reform Institutional Framework Parliamentary Election Results of 1991 and 12 June 1996 1991 Parliamentary Elections for Shammo's Working Area 12 June 1996 Parliamentary Elections for Shammo's Working Area

26 28 63 124 135 153 154

165

Diagram 3

169 181 184 196 203

Diagram 4 Diagram 5 Table 3 Diagram 6 Table 4

235

Table 5

243

Table 6

243

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INTRODUCTION

This thesis deals with two important development issues which the context of Bangladesh unites in a way which is perhaps unique. The first issue explores the dynamics of social transformation in Bangladesh. The second issue relates to the role of development Non Governmental Organisations (NG0s) in the same country and specifically, to the claim that these organisations are capable of promoting the kind of social change that benefits the poor. There are two reasons which make Bangladesh an important case study for investigating both these issues simultaneously. First of all, the NGO community in Bangladesh is one of the most sophisticated and largest in the world and has attained a level of social, political and economic prominence which probably no other NGO community enjoys. This prominence enables NGOs to legitimately address a vast number of development issues and concerns. Secondly, the NGO community in Bangladesh has evolved in such a way that it now dominates, to all intents and purposes, the development discourse of the country. In terms of organising, servicing and mobilising the poor in Bangladesh, NGOs are undoubtedly the most important institutional actors around.

There is already an important research value in any thesis which investigates the rise to prominence of NGOs in Bangladesh since there is as yet no detailed and historically based study exploring why and how these organisations have emerged and evolved in the way that they have. To the extent therefore that this thesis informs on the historical trajectory of a particular NGO, it addresses an understudied aspect of our knowledge of NG0s. However the value of the thesis is not exhausted in the particular account it offers of NG05, since one of its fundamental aims is to offer insights into a 'bigger story' about social change and transformation. Implicit in the attempt to bring these two issues together is an understanding that to explore the dynamics of social change, it is important and useful to look carefully at the institutions associated with promoting that change. For some time now, it is the NGO community which in Bangladesh has been most identified with the role of catalysing social change and transformation.

The attempt to embed my exploration of the NGO phenomenon into this wider perspective influences the way I analytically approach NGOs themselves. I do not pretend that the approach I adopt is better (or worse) than other approaches. What I hope however is that the approach leads to a vantage point which offers an interesting view of the NGO phenomenon which other approaches or vantage points do not capture. In order to develop the distinction I am inferring, I would like to argue that the approach elaborated in this thesis is essentially 'process-centred' and this contrasts with what I will refer to as a 'project-centred' research approach.

The NGO literature is generally dominated by project-centred research and this tends to follow a fairly predictable and standardised route. The first characteristic of this kind of research is that its analytical focus concentrates either on a single NGO or on a particular project of an NGO, without paying sufficient attention to the contexts in which NGOs operate. Secondly, this line of

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research takes particular models and applies them to the chosen research area with the aim of discerning whether or not, and to what degree, the research area reflects what is prescribed in the models. Although I will have the opportunity to deal more specifically with both these issues in the actual thesis, here I simply wish to point out that the importance given to prescription and the tendency to overlook NGO contexts has meant that the ensuing literature tends to be highly positivist and ends up treating NGOs as if they were isolated or socially detached institutions.

This thesis instead attempts to move in a different direction. First of all, I am less concerned with what NGOs should be like (normative analysis) and far more interested in what they are actually like (phenomenological analysis). Secondly, the focus of my research is not confined to a particular NGO or its constituent projects, but concentrates on the numerous and overlapping relationships to which an NGO is both committed and responds. My research lens therefore tries to move continuously back and forth from the NGO itself to the multiple contexts in which lt operates. The fact that contexts and relationships are prioritised in this thesis reflects an underlying assumption about NGOs in Bangladesh. According to this assumption, what is of primary importance about NGOs in Bangladesh is that they have successfully established themselves in society through processes of coalition building, networks and alliances. In terms of significance, this first characteristic takes precedence over more 'established' and 'acknowledged' NGO qualities such as their ability to deliver services, devise projects, oversee development interventions and so on. While there is already a voluminous literature dealing with the latter qualities and characteristics, there is a sizeable lacuna, which this thesis addresses, with respect to the former ones.

The major focus of the study therefore traces and explores the growth of a particular NGO as it interacts with different social arenas where other actors and institutions exist. Conceptually, the interactive domain is important in that, following on from what has been said, it introduces us to the world of alliances, coalitions and networks which have a direct bearing on how power is configured and exercised in societies like Bangladesh. These relations and interactions are never static and established, but are continually negotiated over time as the actors involved respond to and pursue different intentions and motives. To this extent, the research is essentially a 'process-centred' one, interested in how NGOs interact with different actors to build and maintain strategic advantage over time. Before however proceeding to explain the actual outline of the thesis, it is necessary to first make more explicit certain other assumptions I adopt in my research focus.

As the subtitle of the thesis indicates, the analysis I offer explores both the micro and macro worlds inhabited by NG0s. This interest is driven on the one hand by an attempt to offer as comprehensive a perspective as possible on how NGOs operate in Bangladesh. However there is also a second dimension to my interest in both micro and macro perspectives which I consider just as important as the academic drive for comprehensiveness. In this second

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dimension, the argument is that to understand institutions like NGOs in Bangladesh, it is necessary to incorporate both micro and macro aspects simply because the two are mutually present realities which impinge on each other continuously. To ignore either of these realities would lead to a severely impoverished understanding of social life in Bangladesh. This point was made very dear to me during one of the first interviews I had with the Executive Director of the NGO I was focusing my research on. I had asked him to explain the history and outcome of a particular conflict involving some of the NGO members and the local elite. He began his response with the phrase 'go/per bhitore aro onek golpo thake' (literally, inside every story lie many other stories) and continued to situate the particular incident I had originally asked about in a series of wider contexts which were revealed slowly as I continued to press for further details and explanations. It eventually turned out that the particular incident I was exploring and which had occurred locally was but a small part of a longer chain of events that could be traced back to apparently 'distant' and 'absent' contexts and actors. I was often reminded of the phrase golper bhitore aro onek golpo thake' and I soon began to realise that the 'main story' could never really be properly explained or understood unless the 'many other stories' were listened to and interpreted. Different strategies, events, statements actors and positions are rarely self contained social phenomena and their explanation, at least in the context of Bangladesh, entails being able to link the 'particular' to the 'wider' and vice versa, the micro to the macro and vice versa.

In deciding to look for and scrutinise the 'many other stories behind the story', I was obliged in my research to combine a more traditional ethnographic approach with an archival one. On the one hand therefore, most of the information offered in the thesis comes from unwritten sources which I gathered through observation, verbal and non-verbal communications, formal and informal interviews and sometimes, simply being in the right place at the right time. In this sense, my research fulfils some of the tasks associated with traditional ethnography. In order to pursue the many other stories however, I had also to physically move and carry out research in multiple sites. Of particular importance here were the contacts made in Dhaka, the capital city, with key actors concerned with my research topic. Besides these key contacts, there was also important archived material in Dhaka which shed light on many of the incidents or events I was exploring locally. Movements between the village where I was residing and Dhaka increased as my research advanced simply because many of the answers to the questions I was raising at the local level could only be found in places like Dhaka. This underlines once again the statement made earlier about the necessity of incorporating both 'micro' and 'macro' aspects into NGO research.

Although most of the thesis recounts the experience of a particular NGO, it is worth reiterating the point that one of my main research objectives is to contribute to a more general understanding of the dynamics of social change in Bangladesh. In this sense, the NGO is a phenomenon (worthy of research in itself) through which I examine another phenomenon; i.e.

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social change and transformation. For this reason, my research can be considered nomothetic in that it seeks ultimately to explore, in a systematic and non judgmental way, social patterns and processes which have an application and generalisation beyond the immediate focus of the study, in this case, NGOs themselves. Through my selected case study material therefore, I try not only to provide descriptive detail highlighting the role of the particular NGO in promoting change, but also to identify processes and patterns which may be of relevance to other notions, strategies, programmes and agents of change and transformation.

The thesis can be divided into two main parts with four chapters each, a conclusion and this introduction. The division of the main body of the text into two main parts serves to present a by now familiar thesis structure. Hence, the first main part offers general literature reviews and conceptual analyses of various parts of my research work, while the second main part contains more detailed description of the fieldwork material gathered in Bangladesh. However I do not wish to make too much of this division because, as I will explain further in chapter four, both the 'theoretical' and the 'fieldwork' dimensions have continually interacted with each other throughout my research process. For this reason, in the first part (theoretical in nature), I immediately introduce two different types of 'fieldwork' material. The first type appears in the opening pages of chapters one to four and consists of cases which I observed while in Bangladesh. These have all been adapted from entries in my diaries and serve first of all, to give the reader a 'snapshot' of the research context I encountered and secondly, to show that the analytical framework developed in the respective chapters is anchored somehow in the very reality I was observing. The second type of case material used in the first part is more reflective and hypothetical in nature and is used when necessary to buttress the analytical framework and interpret the various debates which emerge in the respective chapters. This material is based primarily on numerous interviews and discussions carried out while in Bangladesh.

In chapter one, I attempt to chart in an interpretative way the ascendancy of NGOs globally. To facilitate this task, I make use of Thomas Kuhn's concept of paradigm to show how NGOs have moved from a peripheral to a central position within the development community, winning along the way the support of donors, practttioners and academics alike. To investigate the global rise to prominence of NG0s, I try to situate the 'NG paradigm' in a wider discussion of development theory and praxis. The chapter concludes by exploring the challenges that emerge for NGOs as a result of having assumed a leading role as development actors today. This particular part of the thesis tries to incorporate the ever increasing and sometimes quite eclectic specialist literature on NG05.

The second chapter transfers this global NGO discourse to the particular development context of Bangladesh. I identify and elaborate three historical reasons that help explain why NGOs emerged as they did in Bangladesh, and complement this historical analysis with a general overview looking at inter alia the size, extension, resources and legal status of NGOs in

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Bangladesh today. In this chapter I begin to explore the significance of the relationships in which NGOs are engaged both externally (especially vis a vis the state) and internally (i.e. among themselves). At this point in the thesis, I adopt and explain the notion of `NGO community'.

While the stress of the previous chapters lies on the global and national importance of NG0s, in chapter three I try to investigate the significance of NGOs for the poor in Bangladesh. This chapter relies heavily on South Asian anthropological literature and tries to make the simple argument that NGOs are new and important social resources used by the poor in their struggle to survive and construct livelihood strategies. There have been and still exist other forms of social resources which the poor can access and the chapter tries to situate NGOs in this wider context. Particular attention therefore is given to looking at the quality of the `poorNG0' relationship and comparing it with the quality of the relationships through which the poor traditionally secure their wellbeing.

The final chapter of this first main part details how my research process evolved and progressed. The headings of each of the sections of the chapter begin with the word 'negotiating', and this reveals how the whole research experience was underpinned by a hermeneutic stance privileging process-orientated investigation. The chapter prepares the reader for the second main part of the thesis by explaining how particular intuitions, perspectives, ideas, questions and case study material were selected, elaborated and interpreted. In reading an earlier draft of this chapter, one colleague commented that the act of writing ultimately betrays genuine process-centred research. Since I consider this both a valid and irresolvable statement, I end the chapter reiterating the point that my research claims only to offer a particular vantage point from which to view a rather complex phenomenon. Just as a vantage point does not usually capture the whole of a particular phenomenon, so this thesis does not pretend to cover in an exhaustive manner all the possible aspects of the topic being studied. The reality being researched is therefore always more complex than our interpretation of it and in this sense, there may be as much, if not more, `reality' in the space between the lines of a thesis than there is contained in the actual written words themselves.

The second part of the thesis presents some of the findings from the fieldwork I carried out in Bangladesh. Even here however, I make an effort to narrate my story in a way which incorporates and re-engages with some of the analytical and theoretical work elaborated in the earlier chapters. The rationale for this way of proceeding is relatively simple. If, as I believe the case to be, new or reconstructed theories can help us see facts or phenomena in new or different ways, the opposite must also be true. In other words, new facts (brought to light through fieldwork) can always inform or help construct better theories and analyses. Narration and theory therefore are continually present to each other in the thesis, making the overall analysis an ongoing one.

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Chapter five introduces the particular NGO which is to become the main focus of the second part of the thesis. The chapter is structured in a straightforward manner and aims to give a brief history of the NGO and identify its links with other key actors such as the donor community, politicians, bureaucrats and of course the wider NGO community itself.

Although chapters six to eight can in theory be read separately, there is a logical and necessary link between them which is explained in more detail in chapter four. Briefly stated, since the thesis is concerned with exploring the extent to which and how a particular NGO captures authority and power in order to then exert greater influence over and in its surrounding environment, I choose to analyse how the NGO operates in three social arenas which represent different gradations of power. Hence, the focus of chapter six is on local power configurations, chapter seven on policy spheres and chapter eight on electoral arenas. Conceptually these arenas are situated concentrically around the NGO reflecting their relative proximity to the same NGO. This framework was devised to try and gauge in which socio-political areas and with what intensity the NGO in question could exercise power and leverage. The basic questions raised in all three chapters are very similar and need not be introduced separately here. All three chapters therefore prioritise the significance of relationships, networks and alliances in determining not only the fortunes and performance of the NGO in each of the three arenas, but also the eventual configuration of power in the same arenas. This focus on relationships is what ultimately makes the three arenas inseparable for, as will be shown, the ability of NGOs to exert influence or power at the local level is enhanced and conditioned by their aptitude, deftness and performance at the national or macro level. The reverse also holds true in that a position of strength earned at the local level has a bearing on the significance an NGO can command at the macro level. The main point here is that the separation of the three arenas is a false construct to facilitate analysis. In reality, the level of interpenetration is exceptionally high.

The concluding chapter once again widens the analytical focus and concentrates not on the NGO phenomenon per se, but on more general themes and concerns into which the experience offers insights. The conclusion therefore deviates slightly from standard practice in that it does not summarise in a sequential way the main points of each chapter, but seeks to highlight both the implications and applications my findings may have for broader theory, research and epistemology. Some may object that concluding in this way constitutes a case of 'ducking the real or bigger questions' and that the thesis should end by offering a set of relevant NGO policy statements. In response to this however, I would argue that the task of devising effective development programmes can only be seen as credible if (and it is a big if) attention is given to understanding the evolving complexity of the 'real world' where the drama of poverty unfolds every day. This thesis attempts to shed more light on this evolving complexity.

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CHAPTER ONE

THE GLOBAL SIGNIFICANCE OF NGOs

1. INTRODUCTION

Diary - January 1, 1996

'Don't Be thte" had-Been-warned-By afi-iend -anxious that I not miss amass gathering of the poor,'eood-mater-ialfor your thesis." The next morning, the _first ethy of the year, I was not late, But I quickly Began to suspect that I hadcome to the -wrorwpthce for ad-I couCd-see were scatteree 4- small- roups o g _f_poor pee*, all-wrappear-with shawfi and -h-zufartogether toprotect themselves from the cold- They tothime they naeftravelkad-the wnok nOh- tfi-om the south' Sangthcksh- to take_part in thee meeting and-that they Bethngearto the grassroots thvel T'rinamullanasangathan: This was a recentl_kformear organisation of_poorpegpk who were all-mernh-ers ofdrent9vOs. I askedthem su.spicthusly if they e-v2ectearanyone the to arrive. They smithd -at me _politely. "Of course... toethy -wilide our At some_,voint, the atmosphere changeardi-astical& as aiffirent groups o _f_poor pesrk Began to congregate, all-of-them chanting, sirgireg, 4thncing and-smiang. _Although it all-resemikara street carnivat- the sthgans written on the Banners carrieargy the_peork were more serious. They cal&d_for an end-topoverty, e-99thitation andpatriarchaidiscrimiruztion, andewuzruthd- airer wages, land f reform, more education arafBetter healthfacitities....the tirt was endkss. The intrusion of these _peg* had-Brought the centre ofDkak a to a hall-, the usual noise of- the traffic repthceargy the chants of_poor men, women an d -childr-en. It wouthrremain that way the whoth Tfw Poverty Convention1the official-name given to the gathering) was a meeting for 9/50 activists anarmemgers. Estbnates of the number ofpeopth from foo,000 to 200,000. Either way, it represented-orze who atterukarrangedofthe gOgest mays gatherings in Bangtheksh:c recent history. Most of-the natfrmalpolz'ticalpartze s had-sent- top ranking representatives and -many of . the countryfr civil-society kaethrs were afio_present given such ill-ustrious
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company, _I was su7,riseartofind-tnat tile meeting waspresiekd-over ny .,elnaid" Mekiar..011a4 the convenor of the Irinamulianasangatnan and -a_poor resieknt gra nearly city slim. Eke Convention euthpteara mankesto arzaroutfiizeara ten yearprogramme in -wnicn `illi:poor women anarmenfrom vilTezges anacurnan slums -wid-unite to overcomepoverty, all:forms grinfitstke, thofeyer0h-ts andenvironmentai ckgraethtion"(7-rinamulig.96.. 1, translation mine) It all-souizetharnice, infact too nice and-soon. I began to suspect that tile -wnok event wasjust a symnolic; stagearceremony. Diarthepoor attending the convention real& eilleve tnat tney couthrcnange things in ten years? Em_,z9typromIres? Empty nopes? 17k Poverty Convention was apowerfid -sociarand- oliticalmoment: But p would its 45. m.ft ance go anyfrrtner than thefirst ofianuary?

In what is arguably the most cited taxonomy of Non Government Organisations (NG05), David Korten distinguishes first, second, third and fourth generational NGOs (Korten 1987, Korten 1990). Fourth generational NGOs represent a mature institutional form and their goal is to facilitate a global people's development movement, "driven not by budgets or organisational structures, but rather by ideas, by a vision of a better world" (Korten 1990: 124). The fact that NGOs are now considered proactive agents capable of effectuating a movement of global proportions far exceeds the expectations of those who initially perceived them as responses or reactions to persistent anomalies of failed local development attempts (Drabek 1987). The global movement NGOs are asked to catalyse is characterised as being inter aliaalletnaive (Friedman 1992), empowering (Korten 1990), participatory (Chambers 1994), people-centred (UNDP 1993) and democratic (Clark 1991).

According to many observers, the Poverty Convention mentioned earlier is an early sign of how the 'global revolution' will look.' Initially planned as a meeting to celebrate the 1995 Social Development Summit of Copenhagen, it turned out to be one of the most significant national events in the history of NGO-led mobilisations in Bangladesh. The sense of optimism and hope evident throughout the meeting seemed to defy the continuous negative images normally

1 In fact, a leading national daily newspaper commented that those who attended the meeting were a "pioneer generation ready to show the way out of the mire their unorganised brethren are stuck in" (Daily Star January 3, 1996, emphasis added).

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associated with Bangladesh, a country once described as a place where "only disaster and destruction happen overnight" (PMV 1979: 11).

Although the experience of NGOs in Bangladesh reflects a unique combination of institutional complexity and sophistication, it is not a self-contained and isolated experience. Instead, it is part of a wider network which according to one report, consists of over 3,000 development Northern NGOs active in the South linking up with anything between 30,000 to 50,000 Southern NGOs or grassroots groups which are in contact with an infinite number of people's organisations operating locally (UNDP 1993). 2 If we thus accept that NGOs are part of a global network, then events like the Poverty Convention raise important questions. What if all the poor people could really unite globally like those in Bangladesh did with the Poverty Convention? Would they be able to forward an agenda which might force some effective change? In short, does the Poverty Convention not offer a glimpse of the global associational revolution predicted by some, a revolution "that may prove as significant to the later twentieth century as the rise of the nation-state was to the later nineteenth" (Salamon 1994: 109)?

According to Korten (1990), effective development must be global in nature, i.e. capable of transcending yet making an impact on both local and national boundaries. This introductory chapter looks at different aspects of the global significance of NGOs in an attempt to gauge whether or not they are in a position to promote the type of change Korten and others predict.

2. THE NOTION OF PARADIGM

Here I intend using the notion of 'paradigmatic movements' to explore the proposition that NGOs are globally significant institutions. The rise to ascendancy of NGOs does not occur ex nihilo, but reflects a constellation of shifting contexts in which different actors and forces are present. Thus, the notion of paradigms is not introduced to produce an ambitious, all embracing theory of NG0s, but simply a coherent synthesis in which the importance of shifting contexts is acknowledged and prioritised. The introduction of the notion of paradigms to the philosophy of social sciences can be traced almost singularly to the work of Thomas Kuhn. 3 Here I limit myself to summarising those parts of his work which are most relevant to the discussion of this chapter.

2 There is no reason to accept these figures at their face value since they involve complex definitional and empirical questions. 3 For useful and critical discussions of Khun's theory see Barnes (1982), Bernstein (1985: 84-114), Jacobs and Mooney (1997).

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Kuhn's central concept is that of paradigm, a slippery concept 4 which he defined in two ways:

[on] the one hand it stands for the entire constellation of beliefs, values and techniques, and so on shared by the members of a given community. On the other, it denotes one sort of element in that constellation, the concrete puzzlesolutions which, employed as models or examples, can replace explicit rules as a basis for the solution of the remaining puzzles for normal science. (1970: 175) For our purposes two aspects of this definition need to be highlighted. First of all, the notion of paradigm implies that knowledge is ultimately tied to particular groups or communities.5 Secondly, paradigms signal the emergence of new theoretical models or frameworks with presumably greater explanatory power than previous ones. For Kuhn, science consists not of a gradual, unilinear amassment of knowledge, but of a revolutionary process in which old paradigms are replaced by new ones. It is revolutionary because the old and new paradigms are essentially incommensurable and the 'communities' committed to particular paradigms are far apart in their respective positions. The decision to embrace a new paradigm therefore entails and requires a complete and radical break with previous paradigm commitments. For this reason, Kuhn describes the experience of changing paradigms not as a logic or rational choice, but as a moment of 'conversion'. 6 Those who adopt new paradigms eventually end up assuming and identifying with, although not always consciously, the techniques, methodologies, values and beliefs of the same paradigm. As this process of accommodation and acceptance advances, what began as a 'revolution' becomes and is gradually presented as a `tradition' which has evolved naturally and linearly from previous traditions.

There are parallels between this brief summary of Kuhn's theory and the rise to ascendancy of NG05. While thirty years ago, NGOs were relatively unknown development actors, today their role in development thinking and praxis is globally acknowledged with some even promoting them as the bearers of an 'alternative' development theory and practice (Korten 1990, Fowler 1997). Translated into Kuhn's terms, NGOs can be seen as having attained paradigmatic status as an alternative development approach and this has come to replace, with the endorsement and support of a relevant community, previous approaches and models of development.

Recently Pieterse (1996) however has argued that the application of the notion of paradigms is inappropriate for analysing alternative development frameworks. His argument consists of two

4 In fact, Kuhn himself was forced to re-elaborate his definition of the concept after being criticised for originally using it in at least 22 different ways (Kuhn 1970: 175). 5 Jacobs and Mooney (1997) however criticise the use of community in Kuhn's work claiming it can not be assessed empirically. 6 Khun often describes the experience of moving from one paradigm to another in religious like terms. In his postscript he writes: "theory must be chosen for reasons that are ultimately personal and subjective, some sort of mystical apperception is responsible for the decision actually reached" (1970: 199, emphasis added).

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separate points. The first point is based on two assumptions: a) paradigms strictly speaking are relevant only in as much as they offer explanatory and metatheoretical frameworks; b) development is concerned primarily with policy and less with explanatory frameworks. The second aspect of this first point is clearly reductionist and confusing for development at its most fundamental level is about understanding social change. To strip the term therefore of any explanatory significance is to render it vacuous. The argument that the status of paradigm is applicable only in the case of extending explanatory or metatheoretical frameworks is admittedly more complex and abstract. However, I reiterate the point made earlier that in introducing the notion of paradigm, I am not looking for an abstract, theoretical framework of NG0s,7 but a simple 'reference framework' or 'working hypothesis' to help me trace the shifting contexts which allow particular models, values and praxes to develop and emerge.

Pieterse's second criticism states that the use of paradigms is reminiscent of other 'grand theory' approaches in social sciences which have been widely criticised for their blatant disregard of diversity and plurality, as well as for their commitment to notions of all encompassing and total objectivity. This argument is not however convincing given that one of the tenets of paradigm thinking is that what is often portrayed as an all encompassing and 'natural' truth is really only the end result of competing and dissenting articulations and voices (Kuhn 1970: 90). It might be useful therefore to distinguish between paradigms as an end result of a dialectic movement of competing articulations (diversity to convergence) on the one hand, and paradigms as a starting point where the movement of an articulation, assented by the relevant community, is unidirectional and top-down. In the first sense, paradigms require, rather than negate, diversity and competition. Indirectly, Pieterse acknowledges this himself when he states that:

[one] impression is that the claims to paradigm shifts primarily serve a political purpose. What is at issue is a claim for political unity and convergence: by emphasizing the intellectual convergence of diverse elements, the chances for political cohesion of diverse constituencies may be enhanced. (Pieterse 1996: 16, emphasis in original) While this dynamic leads Pieterse to reject the application of paradigm thinking, it seems to me that it constitutes an important argument for its acceptance. The global significance of NGOs lies partly in the fact that they have secured a significant degree of support from quite diverse constituencies and traditions. To help introduce this sense of convergent support and identify the diversity of elements and traditions underlying the rise to ascendancy of NG0s, I would therefore argue that the notion of paradigm is a useful and valuable organising framework.

7 Sklair (1988) explores the more abstract side of the theoretical debate on the notion of paradigms. Unlike Pieterse, he believes that alternative frameworks are gaining paradigmatic status within development studies and indeed they may offer a way out of the impasse development theory finds itself in.

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3. UNDERSTANDING NGOs

Whenever I discussed my research topic with others, I was often confronted with either or both of these comments: 'it all depends on what you mean by an NGO', and "it all depends on which kind of NGO you look at'. The problem of defining and classifying NGOs is a notoriously vexed and gelatinous one and resolving it has developed into an art form in its own right. The problem is not only an academic one, for in Bangladesh NGO activists are eager to classify the NGO world in such a way that increases the value of their respective organisations and/or discredits the value of other organisations. Statements therefore that "NGO W' only does credit", "NGO 'X' only deliver services", "NGO is only interested in welfare", and "NGO 7' does not do any real development work" are common in NGO discussions and serve to stir up certain divisions and cement other alliances.

3.1 Understanding through Definitions and Taxonomies.

Modem social sciences tend to privilege definitions which capture and safeguard diversity and plurality (1-lulme 1994) and consequently the attempt to categorise and define NGOs has produced an endless list of NGO acronyms, pseudonyms, tables and charts. Thus for example, some authors employ evolutionary typologies to define NG0s, 8 others prefer to classify them according to their organisational structure and operation, 9 or their geographical convergence,10 while still others attempt ambitiously to amalgamate different criteria into one classificatory framework. 11 Despite these efforts, there is still no consensus on how best to characterise or define NG0s. While stricter definitions risk ignoring or excluding certain organisational forms, looser definitions risk becoming so eclectic that they lose any real significance. Given this, there is at least an initial case to support the view that the very term `NG0' is "inadequate for it does not define the phenomenon empirically" (Landim 1987: 30). The question of NGO definitions is not however merely a lexicographical problem for the variety of definitions reflects fundamental disagreements of what an NGO is or should be. There are a number of difficulties related to the task of specifying

8 The most famous of these is Korten's four generations of NGOs (Korten 1987, 1990). Clark (1991) and Avina (1993) also adopt evolutionary models. 9 Hence for Smillie (1995: 33-34) to qualify as an NGO, organisations should make a reasonable showing in the following categories: formal, private, non-profit distributing, self-governing and voluntary. 10 Bratton (1989: 571) for example distinguishes between NGOs based at the community, national and international levels. Rather than a definition, Friedmann (1992: 146) offers an all-embracing, inclusive typology using numerous distinctions. In a similar way, Hulme (1994: 258-59) constructs a classificatory continuum which reflects different NGO roles, geographical focus and activities.
11

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exactly what we mean by the term `NIGO' and some of these have already been acknowledged in the literature.

The first problem is that the very notion of `NG0' derives from western socio-political philosophy and praxis. As a concept, it attempts to deal broadly with the relationships between individuals, communities, civil society and the state. Theoretically, 12 this particular usage is normally traced back either through Gramsci to a Hegelian understanding of state and civil society relations, or alternatively to Tocquievillean notions of associational life. 13 The universal application of some of the terms and distinctions of these traditions is very problematic. For example, in Bangladesh I found that the line separating 'governmental' from 'non-governmental' domains to be a very thin and porous one, and this restricted the usefulness and applicability of the theoretical distinction. As will be explained in more detail in chapter three, the structures and relationships which regulate govemmental, social and family domains especially but not exclusively at the local level, interpenetrate and overlap.

A second source of difficulty in defining NGOs lies in the negative emphasis of the very term 'NG0'. In the earliest definitional account I could find, NGOs are described as non-governmental, non-profit making, non-uninational, non-sovereign and non-ecclesiastical (Lador-Lederer 1963: 60). This definitional pattern persists today in that the emphasis of the `NG0' concept is still on informing us what NGOs are not about. Paradoxically this reinforces the status the NGO concept has as a residual category which can literally come to mean all things to all people. Although there have been attempts to abandon the `NG0' nomenclature and adopt terms which explain what NGOs are as opposed to what they are not, they have had limited, if any, success. There are two main reasons which explain why the `NG0' term has survived despite the many grievances registered against it. First of all, it is a very convenient and simple shorthand which in development terms, is universally acknowledged. Secondly, there is a clear ideological bias in representing things 'as what they are nof. According to one commentator, the image created through the negative category "plays an important functional role in freeing NGOs from established political hierarchies" (Brown 1990: 5). I would extend this further and argue that it ultimately endorses the commonly held, but mistaken view that NGOs are insulated from their socio-political contexts and histories. This point is developed further throughout the thesis.

The relation between NGOs and western socio-political philosophy is not confined to the conceptual level since it seems that the NGO phenomenon historically emerged from Europe. From 1693 to 1874, there were a reported 33 NGOs in Europe but by the end of the nineteenth century this number had grown to 130, reflecting the introduction of a legalised pluralistic social formation following the French Revolution. What distinguished these organisations is that besides the Church, they were the first to acquire a legal and political international character. In other words, their authority was not drawn from the state (Lador-Lederer 1963: 61-62, White 1951). Though the writings of Gramsci and Tocquieville differ, they both focus on the significance of political associations in social formations. Their relevance in NGO theorising today has increased with the emergence of the 'civil society' concept in development theory.
13

12

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A third dimension of the NGO definitional problem is revealed in the variety of synonymous terms used to describe NG0s. Vakil (1997) offers a standard selection of synonyms which includes CBOs (community based organisations), GONGOs (governmental non government organisations), GSOs (grassroots support organisations) and POs (people's organisations) (Vakil 1997: 2060). This list is by no means exhaustive. In fact recently one list even included an organisational type called 'PHANGOs', defined as "NGOs existing only in the mind of the speaker" (Fowler 1997: 32)! This in my mind is symptomatic of a pursuit for definitional precision which has become a self-defeating end in itself, marginal to the task of making theoretical and empirical sense of the phenomenon being studied. Vakil (1997) makes this general point in her analysis of NGO classificatory frameworks. She argues that one of the most important weaknesses of classificatory frameworks is that they are all built primarily on organisational types and suggests that frameworks constructed on organisational attributes as opposed to types are more appropriate to the task of understanding NG0s. Below I reproduce in graphic form the classificatory framework she proposes.

Figure 1: An Attribute-Based NGO Typology

Organizational attributes
I 1

Essentialist Descriptors I

Contingent Descriptors
I

Orientation 1. welfare 2. development orientated 3. advocacy L4. development education

I

1 Levels of operation } 1. community

b

Contingent 1n Sectoral focus

I

I I Evaluative attributes II

2. national I 3. regional

L1. control over

resources
L

L 4. international

2. organizational accountability L3 efficiency I-- 4. transparency

5. networking 1--- 6. research

Designed from Vakil (1997)

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While I fully concur with Vakil's overall diagnosis, 14 it seems to me that her solution does not really go far enough in that it is still confined within the general parameters of organisational theories. In this thesis, I will be trying to follow a more ethnographic approach to understanding the NGO phenomenon. Rather than centering my analysis on abstract NGO characteristics, I will be building on earlier attempts (Devine 1996a) to focus more on how NGOs operate and evolve in response to their changing contexts. An ethnographic approach therefore seeks to move less deductively (from 'definitions' to 'reality) and more inductively (from 'reality' to 'definitions).16

This section has not resolved the problem of NGO definitions, instead I have used the discussion on definitions to begin to situate my own approach to understanding the NGO phenomenon. My concern therefore lies not so much on furthering our understanding of the NGO nomenclature, but on making an argument for a more inductive analysis of the actual phenomenon. In the thesis, I will continue using the term `NG0' because a) it is a useful shorthand endorsed by the literature and b) in Bangladesh, it is the term used by development activists. Here I offer a coherent summary of the main features of NGOs found in both sources. NGOs therefore refer to institutions that are:16

a) non-state associations;17 b) committed to the design, study and implementation of development projects or more general public interest objectives;18 c) not for profit;19 d) client or professional based membership;29 e) legally registered, when circumstances permit it.

Modern NGOs have a relatively short existence and there is no established NGO conceptual elaboration. This theoretical vacuum has been filled mostly by organisational theories, based loosely on Weber's work on the growth of associations from social processes of differentiation. 15 The 'definition-to-reality' and 'reality-to-definition' directions outlined here are theoretical instances of a structure-agency problem which will be elaborated in chapter four. In short, the position taken in the thesis prioritises the dialogical nature of social reality. Hence the question of NGO identities and definitions is empirical or context specific and not a theoretically fixed one.
16

14

The main literature sources used here are Clarke (1995) and Eldridge (1997).

17 With this I intend a lack of direct and formal affiliation with other state and political institutions. 18 My reference here to public objectives enables me to include institutions which might not be directly engaged in development programmes but which are designed to benefit the poor and disadvantaged. 19 Not for profit differs from non-profit in that it permits the generation and distribution of profits (Vakil 1 997: 2059). Normally, NGOs have professional staff. These may or may not be members of the organisation.

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3.2. Understanding NGOs as Sectors

Organisational theories have influenced NGO research and thinking in another important way by portraying them as organisations which belong to a specific human domain which has been described as the third (Hu[me 1994), voluntary (Korten 1990), private (Uphoff 1995), non-profit (Holloway 1998) or independent (Fowler 1997) sector. These are not mutually exclusive labels, but reflect different stresses in understanding the sector. 21 In broad terms, these approaches share an understanding that the state, market and civil society are separate social spheres, and that each has distinct primary agents, i.e. government, business and voluntary sector respectively. As table 1 indicates, these sectors differ from each other in almost every aspect:

Table 1: A Sectoral Approach to NGOs

Sector Comparisons Characteristic Government Relationship to those served based on: Duration: Approach to external environment: Resources from: Feedback on performance: mutual obligation permanent control and authority citizens (in)direct politics Sector Business financial transaction momentary conditioning/isolation customers direct from market indicators Voluntary personal commitment temporary negotiation integration donors 'constructed' from multiple users
(Fowler 1997: 27)

Whether or not these categories are consistent and the boundaries they imply universally applicable is, as I have mentioned, highly debatable. However what is clearly evident in this approach is a commitment to politically locate NGOs in a specific relationship to both states and markets. The thrust of the approach is neo-liberal, ideological and normative. It relies on a methodology which highlights simultaneously the sins of both state institutions (co-optation, control and authority) and the market (profit making, commercial and isolating), and extols the higher virtues of NGO voluntarism (empowerment, personal commitment, trust and solidarity). In

21 For example 'non-profit' infers an economic appreciation, 'private' a political one, 'voluntary' a sociobehavioural one and so on.

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In order to understand how this image has evolved, it is important to go back and situate the emergence of NGOs in the history of development thinking.

4. NGOs AND PARADIGM ANOMALIES

"Discovery" wrote Kuhn, "commences with the awareness of anomaly, i.e., with the recognition that nature has somehow violated the paradigm-induced expectations that govern normal science" (Kuhn 1970: 52-53). Although historically, NGOs have existed for some time, 22 their 'discovery' in the sense implied by Kuhn is more recent and can be traced back to the perceived deficiencies and failures of modem development theory and praxis. This leads us into a short but necessary discussion of how the evolving development discourse contributes to the emergence and maturation of the NGO phenomenon. In this section, I will build my discussion around an appreciation of the two schools of thought which dominated early development theory, i.e. modernisation and dependency theories. Even if however the NGO paradigm has its roots in these theories, it only really flourishes with more recent epistemological shifts privileging notions such as that of agency and power. This latter aspect is dealt with in chapter four, while here I focus exclusively on modernisation and dependency theories.23

4.1 Modernisation Theory

Modernisation theory emerged in an era of enthusiasm and optimism fuelled by the economic recovery of the USA, Japan and other European countries after the Second World War. Drawing on evolutionary theories and with an intemperate belief in the principle of diffusion,24 experts predicted that poorer countries could follow the path to prosperity already marked by the West. In 1960, the economist W.W. Rostow published a thesis entitled The Stages of Economic Growth: A Non-Communist Manifesto which turned out to be a ground breaking piece of modemisation research. In it Rostow argued that all societies pass through five stages of economic growth and as they do, they move from being `traditional societies' to 'modern ones'.

22

Lador-Lederer (1963) states that the oldest 'modern' NGO started in 1855.

Here I only offer a selective account of both theories. For fuller discussions see Harrison (1988), Hunt (1989), Peet (1991) and Escobar (1995). Diffusionism and evolutionism differ in that the former focuses on transmissions via social interaction while the latter focuses on transmissions via history or time.
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The latter are characterised by high consumption patterns. The dualism implicit in the mode125 meant that the 'modem' was imbued with a series of positive attributes (productive, technological, industrial and so on), while the 'traditional' retained negative ones (limited economic development, lack of technology, inaccessibility of modem science and so on). More significantly, traditional attributes were perceived as obstacles which prevented societies from economically 'taking off. Development (often equated with industrialisation) entailed therefore the removal of these obstacles and the diffusion of modern attributes, characteristics and institutions.

This summary however only represents what Bernstein calls the "primarily negative emphasis" (Bernstein 1971: 144) of modernisation theory. It fails to grasp the more proactive strategies devised by modernisation theorists seeking to create "the cultural environment necessary for development" (idem: 144). In 1974, Alex lnkeles and David Smith 26 published the results of one of the most adventurous and ambitious modernisation projects ever undertaken. The aim of the research was to develop a profile of what it means to be 'modern'. They interviewed 6,000 men from 6 developing countries on a number of topics ranging from family and kinship matters to technological knowledge and competency. They concluded that all 'modem men' should possess the following 7 qualities: openness to new experiences, independence from traditional forms of authority, belief in the efficacy of science and medicine, ambition, punctuality and organisation, civil and political awareness, informed and in touch with the outside world (Inkeles 1969: 210). This methodology, stressing the behavioural aspects of 'being modern', was taken to its reductionist extremes with McClelland's controversial work on a personality trait he identified as the 'need for achievement'. His argument was that the push for economic development was directly and proportionately related to the development of this behavioural trait in human beings (Harrison 1988: 19).

4.2 Dependency Theory

Dependency analysis 27 arose as a neo-Marxist critique of modemisation theories. Its proponents begin their analysis primarily at the global level and stress the importance of the

25 See Oman and Wignaraja (1991: 37-57) for a discussion of dual economy models. 26 The full study is presented in lnkeles and Smith (1974) and a summary in Inkeles (1969). 27 There are many strands to dependency theory. For a comprehensive yet critical account of these see Brewer (1990).

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relations between different countries. 28 The nature of the connection is one of dependence, defined as a "conditioning situation in which the economies of one group of countries are conditioned by the development and expansion of others" (dos Santos in Brewer 1990: 171). Frank (1967) picks up and develops this theme. He argues that the world capitalist system comprises of a series of metropolis and peripheries forming a chain which links the lowest local level to the highest global one. The chain facilitates the expropriation of economic surplus from the satellites and its appropriation by the metropolis. Progress in this system is a dialectical historical process (contrasting with modemisation theory's linear outlook) in which development and underdevelopment are necessary opposites of the same coin (Frank 1967), with one condition defining the other.

Since the capitalist system functions by virtue of maintaining the unequal exchange relations between centre and periphery, the strategy normally advocated by dependency theorists to combat underdevelopment seeks to replace, or advises periphery countries to delink from the same system. Like their modemisation counterparts, dependency theorists also developed a method of positively inducing development values and traits. In this regard, the most influential thinker was the Brazilian educationalist Paolo Freire. His work focuses on the importance of exposing the poor to a critical pedagogy committed to political emancipation (Freire 1972). His philosophy centres on the importance of literacy which he considers "a set of practices that functions either to empower or disempower people" (Freire and Macedo 1987: viii). In order to be empowering, literacy must facilitate: a) a process of conscientisation whereby learners assume a more critical and hence political understanding of the system that surrounds them, and b) an awareness of their own capacity to transform society through praxis. 29 Obstacles to development therefore are not `traditional' predispositions internal to the poor as modemisation theorists hold, but structural forces emanating from the 'outside' which oppress and control the poor.

4.3 Synthesis and Discussion

Despite the fact that both these theoretical schools are normally presented as antithetical or mutually incompatible (Foster-Carter 1976), they in fact share a number of common characteristics which help explain the nature of the subsequent search for development

The terminology used to describe the relation between countries varies considerably. The most commonly used categories are: 'centre-periphery', 'core-periphery', and 'metropolis-satellite'. Wallerstein adds a third rank ('semi periphery') to the two advocated by earlier dependency anatysts, thus increasing the sophistication and theoretical usefulness of the dependency approach (Wallerstein 1974). 29 In a disempowering literacy on the other hand, the learner is passively exposed to knowledge forms which are externally produced and imposed.

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alternatives - a search which would help bring NGOs to the forefront. 3 For our purposes, it suffices to focus on the way both schools, albeit in very different ways, sought to redress deficiencies they perceived in the development role of both states and markets.

Both theories were critical of the role of the state. Dependency theorists rejected the notion of a neutral mediating state, arguing instead that it was a passive instrument in the hands of the dominant classes mostly located at the 'centre'. Modernisation theorists meanwhile were no less scathing in their attack on the state whose role they perceived as negatively interfering with the mechanism of the market (Sanyal 1997). Both theoretical schools were therefore looking for non-state agents who could help improve the development fortunes of the poor. However since it was generally held that the vast majority of the poor themselves were "incapable of initiatives in making improvements [...and that consequently ...] everything must be done for them" (Uphoff and Esman 1974: 28-29), the type of agents required had not only to be 'non-state', but also 'non-poor'. This sanctioned the search for external experts. The 'discovery' of NGOs is related in part to the fact that they were institutions which could facilitate external intervention in the development process without having to rely excessively on the state.

The second area which concerns both modernisation and dependency theories relates to the role of the economy. In a generic sense, both perspectives sought to redress the imbalances which resulted from capital accumulation and to highlight the exclusion or exploitation of the weakest by the same economic system. While modernisation advocates believed that market imbalances could be redressed if value transfers from above (or outside) were increased, neoMarxists argued that the problem lay in the excessive transfer of value from below. Questions are raised therefore not as to whether a market based strategy is desirable or not, but as to how best to redress its imbalances. 31 Self-sustaining and entrepreneurial organisations were seen as viable alternatives to facilitate the inclusion of the poor in the market process. Ideally these organisations would be local and therefore in a better strategic position to provide necessary inputs, ranging from subsidised loans to technical and managerial assistance, to the poor. In short, the form of organisation required was the very one NGOs specialised in.

Not only therefore did modemisation and dependency theories sustain a general search for development alternatives, but they also set out guidelines about what type of alternative was being sought. The need to rework existing relationships with prevalent political (state) and

30 Note that the 'NGO alternative' was not created ex nihilo in this process, it was merely brought to the forefront. This position is consistent with Kuhn's argument that new paradigms are not 'invented', but 'discovered'. 31

For example, Poulton, an NGO activist who acknowledges his neo-Marxist roots, stated that the voluntary sector was not against growth per se, but against the type of growth which systematically ignored the plight of rural communities (Poulton 1988: 19).

32

economic (market) processes was seen as crucial to the development fortunes of the poor. This reworking was "to be achieved by reducing economic and political linkages with dominant institutions and simultaneously enhancing self-sustaining capabilities of bottom-up efforts" (Sanyal 1997: 28). The bottom-up' development rationale became the cornerstone of alternative development thinking and was enshrined in the influential 1975 Dag Hammarskjold Report which was presented to the seventh special session of the United Nations General Assembly. The report outlined how development had generally failed the poor and called on the international community to guarantee the necessary conditions for an alternative development.32 However NGOs do not figure in the report at all, a surprise given that they were already present in many countries. This is an indication that at this particular time, the NGO phenomenon had not secured the full support of the wider international development community. Evidence on the activities of NGOs was still therefore being amassed, analysed and organised. This is consistent with Kuhn's argument that a new paradigm can only triumph if its initial supporters can provide sufficient data to increase the credibility of the paradigm and provoke in its favour "an increasing shift in the distribution of professional allegiances" (Kuhn 1970: 158).

5. PARADIGM LEGITIMISED: THE GLOBAL ACCEPTANCE OF NGOs

According to John Clark, the 1980s were a catalytic period in NGO history (Clark 1991: 36). The fact that NGOs became the focus of attention for different research projects such as the special issue of World Development in 1987, the World Bank's 1988 discussion paper and numerous other publications to endorse Clark's view. As the NGO documentation and evidence increased, so too did their level of support and appreciation. One of the key arguments that contributed to the promotion and subsequent global acceptance of NGOs was the notion that they possessed some form of 'comparative advantage'. According to one of the first theorists to deal systematically with the notion, comparative advantage indicates a situation in which:

an organisation has traits or features which make it more suitable for achieving a particular purpose than an organisation which has the same purpose but does not possess these traits or features. (Fowler 1988: 5) As indicated above, the perceived advantage of NGOs is primarily in comparison with both

32 The report argues that alternative development must satisfy basic needs, promote self-reliance, respect the environment and transform unjust structures (Dag Hammarskjold 1975).
33 The list here is extensive. The most important general writings on NGOs from this time are: OECD (1987), Poulton and Harris (eds.) (1988) and Holloway (1989).

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states and markets. Building on the seminal work of Tendler (1982), Fowler enumerates 12 attributes which together constitute the NGO comparative advantage. He then groups them into two general categories: those dealing with the relations between NGOs and their intended beneficiaries and those dealing with NGO organisation. To further explore the notion of comparative advantage, I will use these two more general groupings.

5.1 NGOs and their Beneficiaries

Fowler contrasts the relationship between government and non-government agencies with their respective beneficiaries. While on the one hand, the government-beneficiary relationship is guided by the imperatives of domination and control,

NGOs on the other hand have no formal authority over the populace and can only invite voluntary involvement in their activities... [they] have the potential to adopt an unequivocal, unambivalent position of support, mutual trust and equality of interest with the intended beneficiaries; dominance and control need not lurk in their shadow. (Fowler 1988: 10) The emphasis on the quality of the relationship between NGOs and poor people has reinforced the claim that NGOs promote 'people-centred', 'bottom-up' or 'participatory' development models. Although these models derive from different intellectual trajectories, they are all committed to a development approach which is concerned with and builds upon the experience of poor people themselves. Two examples of this form of theorising help capture its basic assumptions.

Midgley (1986) offers a concise historical and conceptual overview of 'people-centred' development. One of the key propositions of this approach is that "ordinary people have been exploited by politicians and bureaucrats and that they have been excluded not only from political affairs but from the development process itself (Midgley 1986: 16). On the basis of this, the author argues that the approach has strong historical and conceptual affinities with populist ideas (idem: 15-16). Proponents of people-centred development seek to reverse the exclusionary and discriminate tendencies of top-down, paternalistic development models in the economic as well as socio-political spheres. People-centred strategies therefore stress that the fruits of development must be shared equitably and that poor people can contribute to the

34 NGOs are thus better equipped to a) reach the poor, b) promote participatory development, c) match development processes and outcomes, d) facilitate people centred development, e) be flexible, f) strengthen local institutions, g) be cost effective, h) experiment with new ideas, i) adopt patient and strategic perspectives, j) undertake people centred research, k) foster learning processes, and i) better understand rural reality (Fowler 1988: 8-9). Years earlier, Tendler (1982) had identified the first seven of these attributes and baptised them the %IGO articles of faith'.

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development process itself. In this way, it is argued that both the immediate and long term goals of the poor can be adequately addressed.

Robert Chambers further develops many of these ideas in his work on participatory research methodologies. a normative approach, Chambers argues that the poor are the primary agents of development and that it is we (the outsiders) who participate in their ( the poor) development project, and not vice versa (Chambers 1994: 2). Since this 'role reversal' is perceived as an important step towards sustainable and alternative development, Chambers contends that it is ultimately the behaviour and attitudes of outsiders, not those of the poor, that need most to be changed. In this way, he attempts to turn the 'culture of poverty' thesis on its own head.36

While these approaches gravitate around the notion that those immediately concerned with development should also determine the forms, processes, priorities and means of development, a fundamental question remains unanswered. As Chambers himself writes:

But who should act? The poorer rural people, it is said, must help themselves; but this, trapped as they are, they often cannot do. The initiative, in enabling them to help themselves, lies with outsiders which have more power and resources and most of whom are neither rural nor poor. (Chambers 1983: 2-3) People-centred, bottom-up development seems therefore to be caught up in a predicament since the presence of outside animators or change agents is almost written into its very prescriptions and definitions. NGOs offered an institutional way of dealing with this predicament. First of all, their locus operandi was, at least in the earlier days, normally local in nature and any incursion into supra local areas was justified to facilitate their operations 'in the field'. Secondly, NGOs were also deemed to have a strong moral commitment to a core set of 'pro-poor or 'people-friendly' values (Korten 1990, Friedman 1992). NGOs therefore offer a combination of both these aspects in a coherent fashion. It is indicative that in explaining their own endorsement of NG0s, the World Bank chose to highlight the fact that they "grow out of local communities [and] are committed to having an impact on their constituents' lives" (Cemea 1988: 9), and embody the principle of 'putting people first' (idem: 8). In theory then, Chamber's predicament is no longer such a predicament.

Although Chambers himself is mostly associated with participatory rural appraisals he acknowledges the existence of other similar approaches. In fact, in one publication he lists 29 different participatory approaches which have all been elaborated (Chambers 1994: 8). 36 The 'culture of poverty' thesis was elaborated by Oscar Lewis (1970). His argument was that poverty has its own cultural attributes (apathy, fatalism, indifference, delinquency and so on) which the poor inherit and transmit. Since people are conditioned by their culture, Lewis claimed that the poor are therefore condemned to remain poor since the culture of poverty reproduces itself continuously.

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5.2 NGO Organisation

Fowler's second point is an extension of his first one. This time however he contrasts the modus operandi of community and bureaucratic organisations and argues that while the latter operate in uniform, standardised and rigid ways, the former are guided by a more adaptable and flexible ethos. This is such a recurrent theme in the literature that at least one author has argued that the "greatest advantages that NGOs have over other development agencies [...] are their flexibility, speed of operation, and ability to respond quickly to changing circumstances" (Vivian 1994: 190, original emphasis).

David Korten's thinking has been extremely influential in developing the idea that NGOs are flexible organisations capable of responding effectively to their environments. 37 At the heart of his framework lie individuals who are personally committed to establishing a more just and equal society (Korten 1987: 155). NGOs become the organisational embodiment of this committed individual altruism. With increased donor finances and greater exposure to professional standards and practices, these NGOs become increasingly diverse and specialised. Korten then outlines an organisational trajectory consisting of distinct stages or generations which an NGO may pass through. the first generation, NGOs respond primarily to situations of relief and welfare. Although this form of development assistance is often described as not engaging with the real causes of poverty (Elliot 1987), fact that NGOs can respond effectively to fluctuating situations of crises is nevertheless a pertinent sign of their ability to be flexible and innovative. The focus of second generation strategies is community development. Projects in this stage are devised to facilitate the growth of different self-reliant, small-scale and local initiatives. Third generation strategies meanwhile entail a longer development commitment, a wider scale of operation and a more sustained global effort. In this third strategy, development interventions seek to address the institutional and policy constraints on self-reliant and sustainable development. Finally, Korten (1990) refers to a fourth strategy49 which however he does not elaborate on. He seems to imply that in order to avoid repeating third generation strategies ad infinitum, a social global movement driven by some form of social

37

See also Avina (1993), Smillie (1995) and de Senillosa (1998).

38 Korten admits that different 'generations' can co-exist and that the presence of one generation does not imply that previous ones are removed or rendered obsolete (Korten 1987: 156, note 6). Conventionally welfare and relief were considered measured responses to transitory and largely natural phenomenon. Today however the context of welfare and relief is a complex, persistent and highly politicised phenomenon requiring sophisticated intervention and analysis. Smilhe argues that Korten's fourth strategy is more a mode of organisation than a strategy (Smillie 1995: 31).
ao- 39

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energy (1990: 113-128) is required in which alliances and coalitions interact and support each other.41

Although Korten's model is mostly used in the context of the 'NG definitional problem', it seems to me that his work is relevant in another sense. If we take the generational categories to refer not to NGO types, but to different socio-economic conditions or 'poverty contexts' (i.e. first, second, and so forth), then greater stress can be placed on the capacity of NGOs to adapt and respond to different 'poverty contexts'. The literature offers a wealth of evidence supporting this kind of proposition. Thus we have detailed studies of NGOs active in: providing services such as credit Mood and Sharif eds. 1997), education (Desai and Howes 1995), health (Dawson 1992) and housing (Mitlin and Satterthwaite 1992); improving the sustainability of agricultural development (WeIlard and Copestake 1993, Farrington and Lewis 1993, Bebbington and Thiele 1993); responding to crises situations such as famines, refugees and war (Duffield 1993); promoting social mobilisation and collective action (Kramsjo and Wood 1992); advocating for more effective policy (van Rooy 1997) and so on.

The above list is by no means exhaustive. Yet it was precisely through the gradual accumulation of evidence showing the flexibility, creativity and effectiveness of NGOs in diverse contexts, that their ascendancy in development policy and praxis became globally endorsed. Historically, the 1980s proved to be a critical time for this work of accumulating and elaborating evidence in favour of NG0s.

6. THE RESOLUTION AND PROGRESS OF THE PARADIGM

The nature of paradigms is such that even after they have been legitimised, they are still subjected to constant refinements and re-elaborations. As the knowledge and articulation of a paradigm is extended, it is often assigned new roles which again contribute to and encourage further and newer elaborations of the same paradigm (Kuhn 1970). NGOs were especially exposed to this dialectic with the emergence of what has come to be called the 'new policy agenda' (Robinson 1994). This new agenda emerged in the late 1980s to reflect the global quest for democracy (ushered in by the end of the Cold War and the demise of communist regimes in the East) and to redress the negative effects, evident especially in Africa, of structural adjustment development programmes (Moore 1993). Given that the agenda was committed to a neo-liberal economic programme privileging the market provision of social

De Senillosa (1998) recently postulated a fifth generational strategy which focuses on the quality of the relationship between Southern and Northern NGOs in the emerging global organisation of solidarity. In this strategy, Northern NGOs are asked to become 'transmission belts for the concerns and struggles of their partners in the South.

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services, and a liberal democratic political programme promoting civil society, good governance and so on (Robinson 1997), the 'new policy agenda' was not really such a new one at all. The agenda was novel in that it selected and promoted specific institutional arrangements to implement development programmes. As part of the agenda's 'positive aid ,42 measures NGOs moved from being alternative development channels to being preferred ones (Edwards and Hu[me 1995), and in this way, their comparative advantage was recast as a constructed one.43

In the final section of this chapter, I will try to look at how the more central position adopted by NGOs in the development discourse has affected who they are and how they operate. To use the language of paradigms, I intend exploring the dialectical process through which the NGO paradigm is resolved and advanced. From the literature, I have chosen a number of themes which reflect recent shifts in the NGO debate. These mostly concern or can be traced back to the question of NGO 'scaling-up'.

6.1 Scaling-Up

The basic concern fuelling the 'scaling-up' debate is how to build on NGO expertise and experience to make a more effective and sustainable difference (Edwards and HuIme 1992, Clark 1991). The literature presents a number of definitions of scaling-up and these are not always compatible with each other. For example, Clark identifies three scaling-up strategies: project replication, building grassroots movements and influencing policy reform (Clark 1991: 84). While the first two are expansionist in character, the third assumes that NGOs adopt new roles. In this third strategy, Clark further argues that NGOs move from being doers to influencers, an idea which resembles the third generation NGOs of Korten. Edwards and Hulme (1992) modify Clark's terminology but do not change the overall framework. Thus NGOs can adopt additive, multiplicative and diffusive strategies. The latter two are similar in that they seek greater impact but do not imply organisational growth. What distinguishes diffusive from multiplicative strategies is that the latter presumes a level of concerted organisation while the former is much more informally established. Additive strategies meanwhile entail an increase in

42 It is argued that 'positive aid measures' is a qualitatively different approach from the 'political conditionality' discourse (Robinson 1994: 71) in that it concerns itself with "accountability, openness, transparency in decision-making, and in some cases, the rules governing political competition and representation" (ODI 1992: 2).
The advantage is constructed because it is protected by official aid and policy discourses. Paradigms persist because they enjoy the support of the community of academics, practitioners and activists (Kuhn 1970).
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the size or reach of a programme or organisation (Edwards and HuIme 1992: 15).

Although the issues related to scaling-up strategies are many and complex, they all indicate, in one form or another, change for NG0s. In what immediately follows, I identify and examine four pertinent questions related to the NGO scaling-up debate: scale, focus or level of operation, relations ad intra and relations ad extra.

6.1.1 NGO Scale

Surprisingly, the issue of scale is not explicitly addressed in the literature. Instead, it is presumed that in order to increase effectiveness, NGOs must grow as organisations either by increasing the number of their members or expanding their working area. In assessing the relationship between increased scale and effectiveness, three main opinions are discussed in the literature.

The first position, and by far the most commonly adhered to, argues simply that 'bigger is better' (Howes and Satter 1992). While acknowledging that risks exist, the proponents of the strategy claim that the relationship between scale and effectiveness is directly proportionate. In opposition to this, a second position views with some suspicion the emphasis placed on quantitative scaling-up strategies. Constantino-David (1992) and Roche (1992) for example argue that promoting decentralised networks is preferable to creating bigger single organisations because "beyond a certain size it becomes impossible to avoid setting up a bureaucratic/hierarchical structure that is less flexible, creative and participatory than smaller organisations" (Constantino-David 1992: 139). this case, effectiveness is inversely proportionate to scale, and 'bigger' becomes 'worse'.

The second position appeals to common sense in that it is difficult to see how bigger organisations which claim to logistically support thousands of employees, deal with millions of beneficiaries and offer a variety of complex services can be anything but formal, hierarchical, professional and even bureaucratic. However this is by no means an open and shut case. Examples of smaller organisations operating in an equally rigid, bureaucratic and hierarchical fashion (Carroll 1992) indicate that other factors besides scale may influence the way an organisation functions. If there is a problem with scale, it would appear that it cannot be resolved at the purely theoretical level. For this reason, a third position can be found in the

" Relating the scaling-up of organisational forms to a process of bureaucratisation is an old theme in social sciences and finds in Michels' (1959) infamous 'iron law of oligarchy' its most pessimistic expression. The iron law states that as organisations grow and become more complex, responsibility for the making and execution of policy is taken from members and entrusted to permanent bureaucracies. With time, the latter strengthen their position and begin to displace members' goals with their own. 39

literature which pays less attention to the theoretical debate in favour or against scaling-up, and accepts that the scaling-up of NGOs is both inevitable and exigent. Given that NGOs are important development agents for the poor, those adhering to this third position insist that there is "a moral case for the aggressive pursuit of growth" (Hodson 1992: 128, emphasis added) and that failure to modemise may even destroy NGOs completely (Lehmann 1990: 203-204).

As I mentioned above, the view that increased scale induces effectiveness enjoys significant support, including that of the donor community. This has practical implications for NGO landscapes in different countries. First of all, there are signs that a process of polarisation is gradually setting in among NGOs in some countries. A few select 'NG monarchs' which control massive annual financial turnovers, employ professionally trained staff and utilise state of the art technology, sit side by side with a great number of inadequately staffed, under funded or even financially starved, smaller NG0s. This, as I will show in the next chapter, is certainly the case of NGOs in Bangladesh. Secondly, and partly as a consequence of the process of polarisation, there is evidence suggesting that in order to grow as organisations, NGOs end up competing aggressively with each other. In one study of NGOs in Zimbabwe, it was observed for example that "conflict over ownership of groups was a frequently cited source of stress among different NG0s, as well as between NGOs and government agencies" (Vivian and Maseko 1994: 11, original emphasis).

6.1.2 NGO Focus

A second source of debate relates to the question of the focus or appropriate level of NGO interventions. The debate is introduced by a proposition which states that for NGOs to address the deeper, structural problems of poverty they must move beyond the micro-confines of their operations to engage in wider policy environments (Garilao 1987). There is already evidence that this movement is well under way. Thus NGOs have assumed active roles in: promoting democratic movements in Bangladesh (Devine 1996b), the Philippines (Clarke 1993), Chile (Hojman 1993), Sri Lanka (Fernando and Heston 1997); reforming local government administration in Bangladesh (ADAB 1997) and the Philippines (Brillantes 1994); advocating on nationally significant issues such as child rights (Williams 1992), budget allocations (IDPAA 1997), environmental policies (Thomas 1995), and so on. At the same time, NGOs have contributed to global policy debates with well-publicised representations at the 1993 Conference on Human Rights (Vienna), the 1994 Conference on Population and Development (Cairo), the 1995 Social Development Conference (Copenhagen), the 1995 Conference on Women (Beijing), and the 1992 and 1997 Conferences on Environment (Rio and Kyoto respectively). The emergence of NGOs as key national and international actors is interpreted by some as a sign of an impending transformation in world politics (Korten 1990, Salamon

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1994), of which the Poverty Convention in Bangladesh with which I opened this chapter is but a small example.

Some of the implications of this form of scaling-up have been acknowledged in the literature. Clark (1991) for example admits that a corollary of NGOs breaking out of the insularity of their micro domain is that they will have to engage in strategies of compromise and bargaining with the different organisations and actors they encounter (Clark 1991). From here, two interrelated problems arise. First, as NGOs interact with and attempt to influence more actors, the possibility that they in turn are swayed by the same actors increases. This dynamic has already been identified as a major factor in the 'reshaping of the third sector' (HuIme 1994) and a potential threat to the grassroots, radical, or 'bottom-up' focus of NG0s. No matter how problematic the proposition that NGOs carry out participatory and bottom-up strategies may be, 45 their engagement in wider environments raises legitimate concerns about the hazards and risks of being co-opted. While for some the co-optation of NGOs enables the safe screening of radically orientated initiatives (Petras 1997), for others it ultimately reveals the institutionalisation of a development industry which seeks to dominate and control Third World peoples.46 The institutionalization [takes] place at all levels, from the international organizations and national planning agencies in the Third World to local development agencies, and non-governmental organizations. Starting in the mid1940s with the creation of the great international organizations, this process has not ceased to spread, resulting in the consolidation of an effective network of power. It is through the action of this network that people and communities are bound to specific cycles of cultural and economic production and through which certain behaviours and rationalities are promoted. (Escobar 1995: 46) These 'post development' arguments however require more detailed analysis for it is not always the case that operating at higher levels necessarily leads to co-optation. Carroll (1992) for example discovered that intermediary NGOs were less likely to fall victim to corruption, political cronyism and co-optation than smaller grassroots based organisations. This observation offers an important challenge to those who dogmatically oppose the movement of NGOs towards wider and higher socio-political arenas.

In fact, "it is difficult for NGOs to be participatory in a meaningful sense because NGO activities are almost exclusively based on projects which, by their nature, can be participatory only in a limited way" (Vivian and Maseko 1994: 9, original emphasis). 46 There is a vast literature here which I can not deal with separately. 'Post development scholars', building on the influential work of Edward Said (1978), criticise what they refer to as developmentalism. They are concerned that the development discourse can actually create, order and sustain particular representations of the Third World, a process they believe strengthens the position of the development industry more than it does the poor themselves (Escobar 1988, 1995, Dubois 1991, Ferguson 1990, Esteva 1992). Generally, these authors are suspicious of NGOs since they consider them part of the development system (Escobar 1995: 46), and pin hopes instead on new social movements which can promote not just an 'alternative development', but an 'alternative to development'.

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6.1.3 NGO Relations ad infra

The presence of NGOs networking and co-ordinating at different local, regional, national and international levels is a third common theme of the scaling-up literature. Although some of these network organisations have existed for some time, 47 the recent increase in both the numbers and range of activities covered by networks is remarkable (Stremlau 1987). There are two prominent types of networks: co-ordinating bodies (often referred to as umbrella associations) and issue-based alliances. These networks can be either formal or informal, permanent or temporary.

Although there are examples of international co-ordinating bodies such as the Association of Peasants in Central America (ASOCORE) and the Asian Non-Governmental Organizations Coalition for Agrarian Reform and Rural Development (ANGOC), it is really at the national level where these particular institutional forms flourish. Thus, the Caucus of Development NGO Networks (CODE-NGO) in the Philippines brings together over 1,500 NGOs (ConstantinoDavid 1992), the Association of Development Agencies in Bangladesh (ADAB) has over 800 member organisations (ADAB 1997), the Sri Lankan National NGO Council has 112 members, and until 1987 there were as many as 15 formal national networks in Africa (Fisher 1993: 140). alliances on the other hand are often less permanent than co-ordinating bodies and so it is difficult to accurately determine their proliferation. In most countries however, like-minded NGOs tend to work together, temporarily or otherwise, on issues as diverse as environment, forestry, gender, credit, urban settlements, land reform and so on.49

In general, the idea of NGO networks is considered a desirable scaling-up strategy. As mentioned earlier, some authors argue that these networks are a more sustainable and effective alternative to the creation of bigger single NGOs since they are less inclined to succumb to bureaucratic imperatives (Carroll 1992, Constantino-David 1992). Others have adopted a more pragmatic stance to networks arguing that they facilitate the sharing of experiences, knowledge and information among NGOs and that this increases effectiveness in advocacy campaigns (Hall 1992) and service provision (Fisher 1993). In some cases, networks are also suitable for more subtle and sensitive tasks such as when they are asked to defend or represent the general interests of NGO members in national political contexts (Hashemi 1995).

For example, the Association of Development Agencies in Bangladesh (ADAB) and the Association of Voluntary Associations for Rural Development (AVARD) in India were both established in the 1970s. 48 National networks are less frequent in Latin America due to the sheer number of NGOs involved and the geographical areas covered (Stremlau 1987). 48 See Covey (1995) and Fisher (1993: 57-70) and ADAB (1997) for concrete examples.

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Finally, there is a growing awareness of the important role networks play in both attracting resources and co-ordinating NGO funding arrangements (Stremlau 1987).

However the discussion of networks is generally nave in that the pragmatic justification is all too quickly and uncritically upheld. The literature fails to move beyond the rather obvious statement that unity in numbers enhances impact. Since impact is deemed the greater good, the risk is that the underlying dynamic of how that good is pursued may be easily freed from serious scrutiny. This is perhaps a lacuna which needs addressing for as networks become a more permanent feature of the contemporary NGO scene, it is important to remember that not all NGOs necessarily share the same interest in networks. Thus for example, while smaller NGOs may find networks useful to secure their survival financially or politically, larger NGOs may find in networks the opportunity to increase their own political and financial leverage. If the scaling-up context encourages the establishment of 'NG monarchs', networks might facilitate their consolidation. The first dimension of the lacuna which needs therefore to be analysed is the possibility that networks ultimately promote bigger NGOs and give them leverage over smaller ones. A second related dimension concerns the question of non-membership. What happens for example to NGOs who decide not to participate in national based representative networks? How do NGO networks relate to other like-minded groups that are not NGOs but may share many similar concerns? Finally, the third question which needs to be examined is whether or not networks are as flexible, egalitarian and solidaristic as some would contend (Constantino-David 1992) for as Covey (1995) points out, alliances of all types can incorporate the very structural inequities they themselves set out to change. Networking and collaboration therefore have their own institutional sophistication which may reinforce the tendency towards bureaucratic, centralised and hierarchical structures and patterns.

6.1.4 NGO Relations ad Extra

If the literature is moot about the implications of scaling-up for NGO relations ad intra, the same cannot be said of their relations ad extra. As indicated earlier, one of the key characteristics of scaling-up is the movement from micro to macro contexts, requiring NGOs to negotiate and bargain with new agents.

Alan Fowler has highlighted the importance of funding arrangements for NGO growth, arguing that their organisational structures "seem to have emerged from their [funding] history rather than being appropriately designed for the purpose of micro-development" (Fowler 1988: 13). The changing modes and styles of development funding have also greatly influenced the nature of scaling-up strategies. This is seen today for example in the fact that in funding and contracting arrangements, NGOs now find that they are 'development partners' to a host of

43

other agencies, including governments and business entrepreneurs. As these partnerships become more frequent, NGOs also find themselves exposed to the modus and locus operandi of their respective partners. 50 Thus, for example, Farrington and Bebbington (1993) state that NGOs work "in a manner which is more akin to the state than to any organisation of the rural poor' (Farrington and Bebbington 1993: 177). In another study, Stirrat and Henkel (1997) note how NGOs have assumed "forms of organisational culture that approximate those of the commercial market-orientated world" (Stirrat and Henkel 1997: 70). Ironically, one of the reasons NGOs were endorsed globally was, as I stated earlier, that they were conceived as alternatives to both state and market based interventions. As Brett (1993) argues however, when the issues of scale and continuity lead to the formalisation of structures, apparent differences between voluntary and other types of agency become much less obvious (Brett 1993: 283) - a reminder that partnerships ultimately entail some form of denial of individual identity (Stirrat and Henkel 1997).

There is an obvious appeal to partnerships for organisations like NG05. Bringing together different, but complementary resources and skills increases the chances of achieving objectives in a more efficient way and, in some cases, with less transactional costs. Hall's (1992) study of the ltaparica hydropower scheme in Brazil is a good example of this. The study looks at how a partnership involving community organisations, different NGO regional and international networks, the Catholic Church and the World Bank managed to overturn a particular plan which had been devised by the regional power board but which threatened the local people's security and welfare. Hall attributes the success of the mobilisation to the coordinated use of complementary expertise and skills. Partnerships, networks and linkages therefore facilitate a particular and new form of political action based on multi-layered and multi-dimensional styles of intervention and advocacy (Lehmann 1990). What remains unexplored in these experiences is the relative weight of the partners. What kind of real manoeuvring room do NGOs acquire in these partnerships? Are they just very junior partners in a structured relationship which paradoxically serves to reaffirm the strength of the strongest?

One of the dangers NGOs face working in partnerships is, as I have mentioned, that they may have to surrender all or part of their supposedly distinctive way of operating and being. Put simply, the need to be organisationally efficient and accountable may strain the relationship

so Partnerships between NGOs and governments are not a new phenomenon. In the book edited by Edwards and Hulme (1992), the chapters by Bebbington and Farrington, Klinmahorm and Ireland, Mackie, Jones and Williams all present case studies of NGO-state partnerships. For relevant theoretical discussions on this issue see World Bank (1996) and Heyzer, Riker and Quizon (eds.) (1995). The relationship between NGOs and business on the other hand has received far less attention so far. In discussions on NGO sustainability, there is some recognition that NGOs have undertaken commercial enterprises and in the process, some of their activities have attained new significance. For example although credit delivery is traditionally portrayed as a service rendered to the poor by NG0s, it is now recognised as a source to sustain NGOs themselves. Rutherford (1995) and Bebbington (1997) give cases of NGOs in Bangladesh and Ecuador respectively which cover all or most of their operating costs with income generated from different financial services.

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NGOs are supposed to have with their members. Some authors have argued that if the exigencies of partner-focused accountability override the exigencies of member-focused accountabilities, NGOs risk losing their souls and becoming insignificant (Fowler 1997). From this perspective, NGO autonomy safeguards genuine accountability and effectiveness. Sanyal (1997) on the other hand warns against the dangers of the 'autonomy fetish' which many NGO observers and activists hang on to. To insist on NGO autonomy is disingenuous since networks and alliances are a precondition for building and implementing effective pro-poor strategies. From this perspective, linkages safeguard genuine NGO accountability and effectiveness.

6.2 NG0s: Strategic Institutions or Neo-liberal Apologists?

In 1987, Sheldon Annis warned that the strength of NGOs might also be their Achilles heel since the lines distinguishing 'small scale' from 'insignificant', 'politically independent' from powerless' or 'disconnected', `low cost' from 'underfinanced' or 'poor quality', 'innovative' from 'temporary' or 'unsuitable', are very thin ones. In one sense, 'scaling-up' is an attempt to resolve the ambiguity identified by Annis. However, as the last discussion of the previous section shows, the process of scaling-up raises a series of questions about the very raison d'etre of NGOs (however well or ill defined that may be). It is not therefore simply a debate about how NGOs operate, but about what NGOs are today and what they are to be in the future. In this regard, the literature offers three incisive prognoses.51

Carroll (1992) presents what I would term the optimist perspective. He argues against the claim that NGOs 'lose their soul' in the process of scaling-up. Indeed, NGOs continually operate in an environment of ambiguity and tension and they can react to this by building strategies based on trade-offs, compromise or synergism. He advocates that NGOs move towards a co-operative and synergic strategy in which different organisations mutually reinforce each other with their respective skills, knowledge and expertise. Strategies based on trade-offs or compromise are not therefore inevitable (Carroll 1992: 144). This synergetic model comes close to Garilao's idea that NGOs become `strategic institutions', i.e. permanent structures in society specialising in social development (Garilao 1987: 116).

A second scenario is presented in the work of Edwards and Hulme (1992, 1994, 1995, and Hulme and Edwards 1997a, 1997b). What distinguishes these authors from the ones mentioned above is that they introduce an important cautionary note to the analysis and explicitly acknowledge the pressures and constraints of scaling-up. Thus, although they are generally favourable to scaling-up experiments, they notice "a gradual hardening of the arteries of the

51

I do not pretend that the three opinions I present exhaust the many prognoses found in the literature.

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NGO world as organisations become more bureaucratic and less prone to take risks or bear the costs of listening to those who they seek to assist" (Hulme and Edwards 1997b: 278). Their caution however is not translated into scepticism or cynicism, and there is no suggestion that NGOs inevitably lose their principles by scaling-up. In fact, they propose that more time be given to identifying and expanding the manoeuvring room the scaling-up process offers NG0s.

Finally, the literature also contains a more pessimistic viewpoint. According to the proponents of this viewpoint, NGOs have moved so close to the dominant development framework that they reflect the inherent bias of the same. To imagine that development organisations like NGOs can co-operate with other institutions such as donor and governmental communities without compromising their own principles, is to partake in an exercise of "self deception" (Arellano Lopez and Petras 1994: 560). At best therefore, NGOs provide the development industry with a human or "community face" (Petras 1997: 12); at worst, they depoliticise and deradicalise the demands of the poor by reducing development interventions to technical prescriptions (Ferguson 1990). The NGO commitment to development alternatives is therefore rhetorical and cosmetic, their contribution to the perpetuation of elitism and inequality, real and incisive (Petras 1997).

7. CONCLUSION

This chapter has traced and explored the rise to global significance of NG05. When in 1975, the development community made a concerted and deliberate effort to search for development alternatives, NGOs were not even mentioned. Twenty years later, NGOs find themselves firmly rooted at the centre of development thinking, action and research. To help understand this phenomenal change, I made use of Thomas Kuhn's concept of paradigm and argued that the NGO rise to prominence has occurred because they have satisfied three criteria which are summarised below.

First of all, the NGO model has been shown to offer better solutions or directions to the problems posed by development policy and practice than their potential rivals. In concrete, it is argued that NGOs have a 'comparative advantage' particularly over state and market led models of development and this enables them to reach the poor in a more effective and efficient way.

Secondly, since in selecting paradigms 'there is no standard higher than the assent of the relevant community" (Kuhn 1970: 94), NGOs have had to actively construct, attract and hold on to as wide a support base as possible. In this case, the relevant community refers primarily to

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donors, practitioners, academics and the general public 52 whose conversion to the new paradigm has entailed a gradual increase in financial support, theoretical development and practical application for the NGO model.

Thirdly, one of the effects of a new paradigm is that it eventually "implies a new and more rigid definition of the field" itself (Kuhn 1970: 19). In this context, NGOs are no longer an appendage to development, but have become a sort of tradition in their own right - a fact testified by the growing number of university courses, journals and research agendas which are specifically NGO focused. As an important part of the evolving development tradition, NGOs now find themselves in a position to 'redefine the field', i.e. influence development agenda setting.

The chapter however does not merely describe the rise to ascendance of NG05, but critically explores the dangers and challenges that the same ascendancy implies. Thus, towards the end of the chapter I try to engage, both systematically and reflectively, with discussions evolving from the NGO scaling-up literature.

The focus of chapter two is on the NGO community in Bangladesh. This is one of the largest and most organised NGO communities in the world and the development role it plays is of paramount importance. In short, the NGO community in Bangladesh is like a microcosm where many of the issues discussed at the theoretical level in this chapter can be observed at close hand.

52 While discussions on the financial support for NGOs tend to highlight their increasing share of official sources, it is important to recognise the importance of private sources. Early evidence from an OECD study into NGOs shows that for European NG0s, 57% of their income is derived from non official sources, of which 41% is private donations (OECD 1998). Despite living in an era of supposed aid fatigue, general public support for NGO led development assistance remains high.

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CHAPTER TWO

THE NATIONAL SIGNIFICANCE OF NG0s: THE CASE OF BANGLADESH

1. INTRODUCTION

Diary - June 8, 1996

...We were fedup and tiredwith, aCCthepoCitical -probnis. It wasn't safe to go out of the village. There were no fiats (village markets) for weeks andwhen the traile rs did come, they chargedus more money... This was a comment macth by afemaI argo member when. I asked her how she had been affected by the political crisis which hadset in after the national parCiamentary ections of 15 February 1996. The ections had been apoCiticaC disaster in that alrthe major oppositicmparties, about 85% of the e le ctorate and the community of international observers, boycottedthem. Despite warnings that this wougf happen, the ruling Bangladesh Maticmalist Party
(13.TEP) had

e n;%ci,cd to go ahead-with the el ctions as planned "With no

opposition, their ectoraCvictary was secure. Immediately after the elections however, the opposition parties began a non-cooperation movement against the RAPP de manding the cancellation of the ections. The movement lasted 2.1 days and as the opening quote indicates, it had an impact on the daily lives of the entire population. Of course our .TiG0 leaders and grassroots organisations had to get involved because it is we the poor who were suffering most. That is why we ccicd to build the human chain: to say how fedup we were with the politicians. My husbanilnw.tle sure that all our ban' (househoki) members came today to take part in, the human chain-. isiGOs and their members were ag o invoCvedin the non-cooperation. movement and one of the events they organisedwas a human chain ofprotest which took place an 23 March 1996. The chain consisted ofpoorpeop joining ham& together and lining up along the major roazds of the country. There were reports of chains being formed in Nymensingh, Barisa yaridpur, Pabna and along the 60-80 kilometre road that joins Aricha andthe capital - city Dhaka.
49

In tota around 5o0,0o0 poor men and women covered over 1,000 kilometres of road I asked the same NCO member as above why the chain was important and she replied y ...I hadnever been to anything like this in my Cife.1.1suall- we don't 0s, but on the clay of the chain, aCC the organise things -with other 3Vpoorpeopth in Banglacthsh came out andwere united When we work together, it is possibth to change things, but not if we work alone. I was barn in lvianikganj an.dwas married here. Dhaka has always seemed so far away. .74y husband and children have been there, but not me. On the clay of the chain however, Dhaka seemed so much closer. Caulli you ever imagine someone like me speaking to Xhathda Zia? Never, it is not possibth. But the day of the chain was different because we were united 'That day Xha.thda. fell-in Dhaka an,dI pushed her myself- all-the way from 3vIanikganj...

The first time I heard about Bangladesh I was still in primary school. Bangladesh had been chosen as our class project and so different sponsored events were organised to raise money for this distant country which was having such a difficult time in the early 19705. I can't remember ever being told anything else except that our efforts would help the poor people in Bangladesh.

Almost 30 years later, the need for 'our help' persists and Bangladesh has in the meantime acquired a reputation as a "test case for development" (Faaland and Parkinson 1976: 193), an "international basket case" (in Hartmann and Boyce 1983: 22), an "international laboratory for poverty studies" (Wood 1992), the "aid capital of the world" (Feldman 1997): Poverty-driven development interventions are by now a defining feature of Bangladesh.

Change has undoubtedly occurred. In a recent publication, the World Bank (1995) acknowledges the advances made in certain poverty indicators such as lowered population growth rates, increased rice and agricultural output, stabilised macro economy and industrial investment, higher success rates in the provision of education and health services and so on. Despite these changes however, the same report begins its analysis by stating that Bangladesh finds itself "at a crossroads in its quest for economic and social development" (World Bank 1995: xvii, emphasis added). The future of the country is therefore still finely balanced between what has already been achieved and what has still to be done. In both cases, the stick used to measure both success and failure is a development one. South Asia is home to two-fifths of the

1 The leader of the BNP. 50

income poor of the developing world and almost half of those in human poverty (UNDP 1997).2 Bangladesh's position as the poorest of these South Asian countries and the only one where the absolute number of poor has grown every year since its Independence in 1971 (World Bank 1995), ensures that poverty and development discourses will continue to be defining features of the country for some time to come.

Not all is doom and gloom for there are also numerous positive images associated with Bangladesh. The incident of the human chain that introduced this chapter is an example which highlights in very positive terms the capacity of the poor to successfully deal with very adverse situations. It is also significant for it identifies the important role of NGOs in mobilising the poor. In the quest for change in Bangladesh, these NGOs have gradually but steadily assumed a pivotal and catalytic role. If then poverty and development are the two main acts in the Bangladesh drama, NGOs have landed the starring role in both.

In this chapter, I will explore how and why the NGO community managed to land this starring role in Bangladesh. I begin by looking at the case of an important organisational attempt which previously held the institutional space NGOs now occupy. I will then proceed to historically examine why NGOs emerged and why they emerged in the way they did in Bangladesh. Following this, I attempt to give an overview of the 'modem' NGO phenomenon before engaging with the notion of 'NG community'. Finally, a brief discussion on NGO sustainability is used to help analyse the different NGO models which the experience of Bangladesh offers. This chapter therefore relates to the previous one in that here I am looking at a micro case study of how NGOs rise to and maintain a position of prominence and authority.

2. STATE AND RURAL DEVELOPMENT

When Bangladesh achieved Independence in 1971, there were few NGOs in the country. To face the challenges of eliminating poverty, a government-sponsored development model known as the Integrated Rural Development Programme (IRDP) was extended throughout the country. This model was one of the first serious attempts at grassroots development and some believed that it was a real third way of development (Abdullah et a! 1976), capable of promoting simultaneously growth and equity. Historically, the IRDP emerges from an experience started in 1959 by the governmental Academy for Rural Development (now known as the Bangladesh Academy for Rural Development - BARD) in Comilla. At the heart of the Comilla experiment

2 Income poverty is measured using headcount indexes while the human poverty measures degrees of deprivation in terms of health, housing, knowledge, participation, personal security, environment and life expectancy (UNDP 1997).

51

lay the innovative idea of the to-operative model' which also became the distinctive component of the IRDP.

The basic assumption of the Comilla model was that successful rural development depended on the synchronisation of administrative, infrastructural and technology based farming reforms (Like Minded Group 1990). It consisted of four basic components: a) a two-tier system of village-based farming co-operatives (Krisi Samabaya Samity-KSS) federated into Maria Central Co-operative Associations (TCCA) who provided services, training and supervised credit to the KSS, 3 b) a "Thane Training and Development Centre which disseminated information and promoted different skills, c) an irrigation programme, and d) a Rural Works Programme (RWP). The Comilla model was devised specifically as an alternative to other government supported development initiatives which promoted "elite farmer strategies" (Abdullah et a! 1976: 221). Initially at least, it seems that the programme successfully managed to help farmers increase agricultural production, 4 promote the use of new technologies and irrigation methods, and expand rural savings (Abdullah et al 1976).5

As the programme however showed signs of success, richer farmers began to take more interest in it and sought ways of dominating it. They would try to infiltrate the programme's village managing committees and then manipulate the process of service distribution. Thus, they would gain access to disproportionate amounts of agricultural inputs and secure inordinate shares of loans with very relaxed repayment conditions (Abdullah et a! 1976). Their position in the rural power structure enabled them to manipulate co-operatives and committees with relative ease (Blair 1978). In chapter three I intend looking in detail at how and why rural power structures reinforce the privileges of the richer and influential members of communities.

As elites infiltrated Comilla co-operatives, the distribution of development inputs and assets began to reflect and strengthen existing structures and patterns of power. In the end therefore, the co-operatives helped accelerate and intensify the process of economic polarisation between rich and poor (van Schendel 1981) and between different regions throughout the country (Jones 1982). 6 That the project would have eventually reflected rather than challenged dominant patterns of power and distribution came as no surprise even to the model's charismatic

3 A thane is a sub-district administrative area which is similar to the notion of a county. One of the project's specific aims was to offer farmers equal access to the infamous Green Revolution package. When new paddy varieties such as the IR-8 were introduced through Comilla, yields increased nationally by 50%, and in Kotwali where the Comilla project supplied extra inputs and offered advice and support, yields increased by around 250% (Blair 1978). 5 These are only the major benefits attributed to the Comilla programme. Choldin (1972) for example states that the programme also produced changes in the political organisation of the villages, rural communication systems, local level administration and farmers' attitudes. 6 For fuller reviews of the Comilla experiment see Hossain and Jones (1983), Blair (1978), Abdullah et a/ (1976), Jones (1982) and van Schendel (1981).
4

52

founder, Dr. Akhtar Hameed Khan. In one comment on the project he admitted that:

Neither were we surprised when the bigger capitalists - the large proprietors, moneylenders and traders - tried to capture this potentially dangerous movement. Initially we worked quietly round them, suggesting not that they should be excluded from the new co-operatives, but that they should not be allowed to dominate, as they had dominated the old co-operatives. It was no easy job [...]. The rural elite, hand in glove with the urban elite, wielded great economic and political power. It was going to use that power to defend its privileged position. (quoted in Abdullah et al 1976: 230) The first Government of Bangladesh made the IRDP the centrepiece of its rural development strategy. Although the main objective of the IRDP was to improve agricultural production through a technology led strategy, the First Five-Year Plan (1973-1978) also acknowledged the adverse effects the rural power structure had on the weaker and poorest members of society. This situation could only be changed, according to the Plan, "by helping the depressed classes to organise themselves, adopt innovations collectively, and become a dominant productive force." (Planning Commission 1973: 157, quoted in Khan 1989: 27). Officially therefore the IRDP co-operatives were charged with the dual task of increasing production and decreasing social inequalities. The fact that the original Comilla model had already failed to reconcile these two imperatives was either overlooked or simply ignored.

The extent and scope of the government's commitment to the IRDP is revealed in the way it expanded the programme. Comparing data from 1972 and 1980, we see that in a short period, the IRDP increased its geographical coverage from 267 to 475 thanas, its membership from 136,000 to 1.3 million individuals, the number of its co-operatives from 6,000 to 40,000 and the amount of savings from 11.6 million taka to 92.5 million (Hossain and Jones 1983). However the supervision of this expansion was poor and in many cases, rich farmers were setting up cooperatives for the sole purpose of acquiring important subsidised inputs. Jansen (1987: 253 ff.) offers an example which illustrates how the process operated. He reports the case of an influential person who took it on himself to apply on behalf of the village co-operative for a tubewell from the local administration. He did this without the approval or knowledge of the other co-operative members. Since he had good contacts with the local administration, he convinced them to approve his application for the tubewell which was however registered in the name of the co-operative. Not surprisingly, he (rather than the co-operative) decided where the tubewell was to be positioned and how it was to be used. In this way, he managed to further secure his own power base in the village since access to and use of the tubewell became an important bargaining tool which influenced the outcomes of important issues such as land disputes, sharecropping negotiations, employment contracts and so on.

Jansen's case study is a good example of how development inputs are accessed and distributed in ways which advantage the more powerful members of society. The fact that valuable development resources could be easily procured through co-operatives goes some

53

way to explaining the high levels of non-membership participation in the same co-operatives. Indeed in one study it was found that as many as 50% of the 'co-operatives' receiving subsidised inputs did not actually exist (Like Minded Group 1990). Rather than redress social inequalities, the IRDP was actually entrenching existing inequalities within communities and between different regions (Wood 1994).

Not only was the IRDP the government's development showcase, but it was also endorsed by some of the key donor agencies. Some of the bigger donors for example selected specific areas to conduct intensive IRDP development experiments. The first of these experiments, euphemistically baptised 'rent a thana' by Wood (1994), began in July of 1976 and the second in March of 1984. While the support of major donors ensured that both funds and expertise were available for these projects, the underlying policy logic, rationale and priority remained substantially unchanged. Wood (1994: 419-421) analysed 10 case studies of the second of these intensive IRDP experiments and offered a number of telling, but not surprising conclusions. First of all, while the co-operatives were convenient, they amounted to little more than hollow structures which were easily manipulated by social, political and administrative elites. Secondly, the thrust of the policy being followed was technical in character and there was no real attempt to engage with the agrarian structure which expressed itself in class and gender relations. Finally, since the co-operatives operated as channels for input and resource distribution, they enabled the elite to invest in and strengthen their own clientelistic networks. His review closes with a conclusion which echoes many of the criticisms levelled previously at the Comilla initiative:

[the] rural poor are not only unable to benefit, they are witnessing a realignment of class forces - involving the strengthening of alliances between rich farmers, petty landlords, local contractors and elements of the bureaucracy which is further removing them from any access to state/foreign aid disbursements. (Wood 1994: 143) The Comilla-IRDP initiatives were partly designed to redress social inequalities and discriminations. However the career path of these development initiatives veered off in a very different direction and rather than redress prevailing power configurations, they ended up reinforcing them. In short, the Comilla-IRDP history is one of progressive accommodation and convergence with the status quo. The failure of IRDP to be effective at this level encouraged the search for altemative ways of implementing poverty-driven development initiatives. Through this search, greater attention was gradually given to the work of NG0s.

54

3. THE EMERGENCE OF NGOs

NGOs existed in Bangladesh before the country's Independence. Already in the late 18th century, orphanages, hospitals and education centres had been set up by religious societies and groups (Huda and Hussain 1987). The first national welfare organisation (Kumudini Welfare Trust) came into being in 1944, a year which saw other organised forms of voluntary action being established in response to the 1943 Bengal famine in which 3 million people lost their lives (Hasan et al 1992). By the late 1960s a few of the larger international NGOs such as Caritas and CARE had already regional offices in East Pakistan. Having said that however, there is no doubt that the growth of the NGO phenomenon gathered significant momentum after Independence was declared in 1971. There are three main reasons, all related to the early years of independent Bangladesh, which help explain why the NGO phenomenon quickly became a significant part of the country's socio-political landscape: a) the importance of development and aid, b) the problem of governance and repression and c) the nature of the state.

3.1. Development and Aid

The availability of substantial amounts of aid was an important factor behind the proliferation of NGOs in Bangladesh. Prior to its Independence, Bangladesh had been dominated by the metropolitan elites of West Pakistan who engaged tirelessly in "an exercise of primitive capital accumulation" (Wood 1994: 117). West Pakistan therefore controlled inter alia the domestic and external resources, the export and import terms of trade, the industrial and rural development strategies of what was then East Pakistan. With Independence, Bangladesh inherited a crippled macro economy with a "large external resource gap" (Sobhan 1982: 1), as well as a number of debts which had been contracted prior to 1971. 7 The micro-political economy was also severely affected in that the process of exploitation induced a situation of widespread "food crisis, vulnerability to disasters, landlessness and mass under-employment" (Wood 1994: 117). The first Government of Bangladesh was therefore presented with the task of rebuilding the macro-political economy, as well as addressing the more immediate needs of its population. To compound matters, these tasks had to be carried out while the country was looking to implement a national war rehabilitation programme. Taken together, these reasons help explain why foreign aid quickly became an integral part of the country's development

7 For example, it inherited a debt liability on development projects of around $500 million (Billetoft and Malmdorf 1992: 12). Initial refusal to accept this debt liability put the Government on a collision course with the World Bank and other donors which was not resolved until 1974 (Riaz 1994: 157-158).

55

process and why many of the first NGOs in Bangladesh such as BRAC, Gonoshasthaya Kendra and Caritas became involved in relief and rehabilitation work.8

Although it is difficult to calculate the exact amount of aid received by Bangladesh, there is no doubt that after Independence there was a rapid increase of aid assistance. 9 According to Sobhan (1982), from December 1971 to June 1972, a total of $ 612 million was committed to Bangladesh. In 1972/73 that sum rose to $ 886 million. The significance of these figures is that in 1969/70, considered "the peak of aid disbursement in the region since 1947" (Sobhan 1982: 7), only $ 320 million had been disbursed. Why were donors so willing to commit such an amount of money? Although the question cannot be fully addressed here, there are two reasons that should be mentioned. On the one hand, during the early 1970s global development thinking itself was undergoing significant reform. The famous 1973 Nairobi speech of the World Bank's President, Robert MacNamara, typified this reform. He argued in favour of a 'redistribution with growth' development strategy, stating that greater stress had to be placed on devising projects for the 40% of the world's poor unable "to contribute significantly to economic growth, nor share equitably in economic progress" (in Oman and Wignaraja 1991: 102-103). That Asia accounted for two thirds of this 40% made it a prime target for donor aid. Secondly, since the emerging development strategy was primarily rural orientated, the fact that Bangladesh was a predominantly rural society with very fertile land, made it an ideal case (Faaland and Parkinson 1976) for testing whether investment in the rural sector could really stimulate significant economic growth.

The presence of aid facilitated both the quantitative and qualitative development of NGOs in Bangladesh. On the one hand, donors were looking for ways of implementing their new development approach and reaching the 40% living in absolute poverty. Since many NGOs (or nascent NG05) had already been working in relief and rehabilitation with the poorest or in very remote rural areas, they were ideally positioned to spearhead the new development strategy. In the early 1970s therefore, there is a marked increase in the number of registered NGOs in Bangladesh. This increase in the number of NGOs was accompanied by a diversification of development interventions. The fact that the new development strategy was an integrated development approach aimed at satisfying basic needs meant that NGOs had to become specialists in providing or securing different services such as education, health, agriculture and credit. For this reason, during this time there is also a marked increase in the type of work NGOs are involved in.

For a journalistic and lively account of these early development initiatives see Timm (1994).

9 Official grants and credits given to Bangladesh at this time were possibly the highest ever received by an underdeveloped country during such a short period (Maniruzzaman 1975: 894).

56

3.2 Governance and Repression

A second factor contributing to the pattern of NGO proliferation in Bangladesh refers generally to the political context and specifically to the crisis of governance which hit the country immediately after its Independence. The struggle for Independence had coalesced around a political project of Bengali nationalism which brought together in an unprecedented way a number of political groups, parties and organisations representing both elitist and 'peasant-rural centred' traditions (Alavi 1973). With Independence the raison d'etre of the alliance disappeared and so the first Government, led by Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, had to be effective politically or socially to maintain its legitimacy. Unfortunately it failed on both accounts.

Politically, the unity of Mujib's own party (the Awami League) was threatened by internal splinter groups concerned with the party's lack of commitment to the principle of socialism (Maniruzzaman 1975). 10 This radical section began to rally round a call for a 'second revolution' 11 and this eventually led to a formal split within the party which was followed by numerous smaller realignments. 12 This political rupture, which also occurred within both the military and bureaucracy (Riaz 1994), was accompanied by a growing discontentment with Awami League's social performance. Despite the fact that the country was in a state of both macro and micro economic vulnerability, the incumbent Government lent itself to all kinds of nepotistic, mercenary and abusive practices. The party's workers not only captured monopolistic control over industry, foreign trade and the distribution of land and property left by fleeing non-Bengalis, but they also engaged in the lucrative business of smuggling jute and food grains to India. 13 In the words of one prominent scholar, the new socialist order of the incumbent government enabled 'Pakistan's 22 rich families to become Bangladesh's 2200' (Maniruzzaman 1975: 906). For those outside of the '2200 club', life was becoming increasingly more precarious with the price of consumer goods increasing by about 300% between 1970 and 1973 (Ahmed 1986) and the devastating floods and famine of 1974 bringing death, chaos and destitution.14

The first constitution was based on four principles: nationalism, socialism, democracy and secularism. 11 The first revolution led to the Independence of Bangladesh. 12 There are many political parties in Bangladesh and their histories involve multiple and sometimes overlapping factions, splinters, alliances and realignments. For an overview of the history of the main political parties see Maniruzzaman (1975). 13 For further details of these and other corrupt practices see Riaz (1994: 164-217). 14 While officially 26,000 people died as a result of famine, other estimates put the number as high as 1.5 million.

10

57

Since the Government could not control via persuasion the increasing demands for a 'second revolution', 15 it eventually resorted to a strategy of coercion and repression. Thus, a government-sponsored security force, called Rakkhi Bahini, was established to root out 'anti state elements'. This led to an open and brutal war between the Rakkhi Bahini and armed wings of opposition parties. 16 To strengthen their position in this war the Government issued various ordinances. For example with the Special Powers Act of 1974, it empowered itself to inter alia arrest anyone suspected of state terrorism and suspend temporarily any form of associational activity (Maniruzzaman 1975). The march towards political authoritarianism reached a decisive moment in 1975 when Mujib had the Constitution amended to allow a presidential form of government and to legalise one party rule. Defiantly, he baptised his own reforms 'the second revolution', thus hijacking the opposition's slogan and banning their existence at the same time.

Many of today's NGO leaders acknowledge that they were involved in the influential student movement which supported the struggle for Independence and was active in the post Independence programme of rehabilitation. 17 These students combined in their political project a strong sense of nationalism and Marxist ideas about change and revolution (Lifschultz 1979). Like many others, they too were frustrated by the fact that they could not carry out their radical agenda for change under the government of Mujib. Thus, they too were eager to find alternative political space to work in. At this juncture, the NGO movement presented itself as an attractive option for those involved in this ongoing political search (Glaser et al 1992). First of all, the NGO discourse, focusing as it did on the plight of the poorest and imbued with notions of conscientisation and self-reliance, pursued the type of change which many radical activists were seeking to introduce through their respective political channels. Secondly, the NGO space was, from a political perspective, a relatively safe one. While the direct involvement of donors and foreign experts guaranteed a minimum level of security and protection, the ability of NGOs to portray themselves as non-political and hence, nonthreatening actors was equally important. A third reason why the NGO alternative was an attractive option was that it offered unified organisational strength. Although the underground political organisations were numerically strong, their propensity to continual fragmentation and realignment meant that they were often incapable of sustaining the necessary organisational unity to translate ideas into effective praxis. Finally, as I have already mentioned, the donor community was prepared to finance and invest in NG0s. Unlike political organisations therefore, NGOs had funds to organise their work.
15 The first major public challenges occurred in 1972 when the Jatiyo Samajtantrik Dal (JSD) split from the Awami League, and in 1974 when 6 opposition parties formed a United Front against the Government. Both movements denounced the excessive levels of state corruption and cronyism.

16 It is claimed that in its first two years, the Rakkhi Bahini were responsible for the death of 60,000 and the arrest of 80,000 political activists (Maniruzzaman 1975). See Riaz (1994) for details of the escalating violence occurring throughout the country at this time. 17 See Hossain (1979) for an analysis of the political significance of student movements in Bangladesh.

58

From its Independence until the introduction of parliamentary democracy in 1991, the political leadership of Bangladesh has been determined predominantly by coups and counter coups. Both the regimes of Ziaur Rahman (1975-1981) and General Ershad (1982-1990) were for example installed through military coups and both leaders therefore were faced with the same problem of trying to find ways to legitimise their authority. To do this, they used the country's electoral process, military, constitution, press and mass media as they saw fit and like Mujib before them, they either banned or confined to political insignificance all forms of oppositional political parties, particularly those of the Left. Meanwhile, NGOs were being allowed a significant amount of freedom and space to carry out their operations, for both leaders deemed development an important legitimising, but politically non-threatening, force. The increasing social prominence of NGOs therefore contrasted with the declining social influence especially of the left-winged organisations. This has not been forgotten by politicians from the Left who today still take advantage of whatever occasion to settle their historical and contemporary grievances with NG05.

3.3. The Nature of the State

The third factor that influenced the proliferation and growth of NGOs was the nature of the state. In the context of Bangladesh, the notion of the 'weak state' has been used to explain a number of different social processes including: general state formation (Hossain 1979, Crow 1990, van Schendel 1995, Jahangir 1997), the political ascendancy of the military (Ali 1994) and recently, the rise to prominence of NGOs (Devine 1996a, White 1996, Lewis 1997). To refer to the problem of the weak state to explain particular social and political formations is therefore a popular method, which however has a much longer history in south Asian studies:18 This reading nevertheless needs to be scrutinised more carefully for the notion of a weak state normally infers a formal judgement about how states should be. In many ways, the state in Bangladesh is extremely strong and powerful, and in other ways it is admittedly ineffective and indifferent. In other words to make any sense at all, the notion of a weak state has to be disaggregated into different rankings of performance and presence. As it stands therefore, the proposition that a weak state enables NGOs to proliferate is confusing and misleading. It is more accurate to link NGO ascendancy to the fact that they perform certain functions and engage in areas where the state performs weakly.19

18 The notion of the weak state can be traced back to the beginning of Indian historiography and more specifically to the orientalist-nationalist debate therein (Targa 1999). 19 I am indebted to Geof Wood for helping me focus my original application of 'weak states' (Devine 1996a) on what the state in Bangladesh is, as opposed to what it should be.

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In what follows, I will try and explain why historically NGOs grew by performing specific development functions which the state either ignored or overlooked. Here I only show how NGOs have come to occupy these positions or carry out these functions, and how that process has been legitimised. In chapter three, I offer a more dynamic analysis of the importance of these positions and functions in determining actual configurations of power.

Under British and Pakistani rules, the national centres of authority of Bangladesh were always remote and distant. 2 State penetration therefore relied on the presence of elites who mobilised and controlled the life of local communities in exchange for access to benefits and advantages bestowed by the ruling patrons of the centre. The partitions from both India and West Pakistan provoked an exodus of these elites or middlemen from Bangladesh, creating in the process a 21 The nascent power structure was therefore a destabilised and volatile one power vacuum. which had in some way to be reconstructed. The degree of social fragmentation was felt both at the level of the state where those in authority had to mediate between structurally competing, but not necessarily contradictory class interests, well as at the village level. Hartmann and Boyce (1983) for example noticed the fragile unity of the village where they were carrying out research. They argued that the village's instability "arises from the social landscape it shares with most of Bangladesh's villages. The dispersion of houses, dictated by the ecology of the delta, itself militates against tight social integration [...]. Today, divisions between rich and poor, young and old, and Hindu and Muslim cut through every village, and competition for scarce resources, above all for land, constantly pits villager against villager" (Hartmann and Boyce 1983: 71).

As I stated earlier, the state's response to this destabilised and fragmented social structure was not so much weak as it was selective. Mujib, Zia and Ershad all pursued very similar tactics: they personalised the political system in order to amass greater power and used populist strategies to win over the support of others. A number of strategies were used. First of all, they manipulated the whole political system not only, as we have seen, by eliminating opposition, but also by establishing political institutions at the local level such as Zia's Gram Sarkars (Village Councils) and Ershad's Upazila Parishads (District Unions) which were normally controlled by local, faithful followers. Secondly, they made increasing use of kin and loyal friends to build their political regimes by offering them high-level, non-merit appointments

20 In British India, Calcutta was the administrative centre while after 1947, Lahore became the centre of authority for the whole of Pakistan. It was the social fabric of Bangladesh which was most adversely affected by the exoduses of traders, professionals and administrators in both 1947 and 1971 (Hossain 1979). The core of Alavi's (1973) influential thesis argued that the post-colonial state in Bangladesh (bureaucratic-military-oligarchy) functioned as a mediator between the interests of three competing propertied classes (indigenous bourgeoisie, metropolitan neo-colonialists bourgeoisie and the landed class). It was a fluid and unstable political organisation in which the state, not subordinate to any one particular class, acquired what Alavi refers to as a relatively autonomous role.
22 21

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(Mannan 1992, Ali 1994). Finally, they used different ideologies such as nationalism, selfreliance and Islam to legitimise their political agendas. With these strategies, these leaders became masters in the 'politics of survival' (van Schendel 1995) and accumulated in their own hands a significant amount of power. In this sense, the state was extremely strong and powerful.

However, power concentration and powerlessness can co-exist. Kohli (1994) explains this by distinguishing between centralising and developmental power. While the former involves decision making control, the latter highlights the ability to implement decisions. Using this distinction, it could be argued that rulers in Bangladesh managed to secure centralising control, but failed to acquire developmental control. NGOs flourished then because they could fill the vacuum created by the state's poor performance in implementing decisions that would satisfy the needs of the majority of its citizens.

In assuming different roles and responsibilities in development activities, NGOs were therefore not only helping relief and rehabilitation efforts, they were also filling important structuralinstitutional vacuums. Development programmes have always been one of the most important mechanisms for extending political power and forging links between state and society (Hossain 1979, Jahangir 1997). Having been given space to design and implement development programmes, NGOs were in a position to amass a different kind of power as long as they did not threaten (or appear to threaten) the 'centralising power' sought after by political leaders. This goes some way to explaining why president Ershad, the most populist and personalist leader of Bangladesh and probably the leader who amassed most 'centralising power', surrendered a significant amount of political space and 'development power' to NG05. This point will be illustrated in chapter seven.

In the context of scarce resources and extreme vulnerability, the services NGOs provided were as much 'institutional life rafts' to the poor as they were to the state, and poor people were quick to respond to the presence of NGOs by joining their samities23 and organisations. Historically, poor people in Bangladesh have responded favourably to groups and agents who address their local contexts and needs. This was the case for example with some of the early, more 'successful' radical parties and groups in rural Bangladesh (Wood 1994), and is an important key to understanding the degree and nature of NGO acceptance at the local level. Not only were most NGOs physically located in rural contexts, they also directed their research agendas and built their early philosophies and praxis around localist ideologies which

23 Samity is the name commonly used to refer to NGO member groups.

61

emphasised the problematic nature of surviving in village structures and contexts. 24 In short, NGOs were talking the language of the poor and fighting from the comer of the poor. In response, the poor became members of the NGOs and in so doing, they legitimised the NGO position in society.

4. NGOs IN BANGLADESH TODAY

While the factors mentioned above help reflect on the origins of the NGO phenomenon in Bangladesh, they do not help us appreciate the commonly held view that the NGO phenomenon in Bangladesh is unique in terms of size, sophistication and institutional experience (Lewis 1994). In order to do this, I intend complementing the historical analysis with an overview of the NGO phenomenon as it presents itself today in terms of numbers, coverage, constituencies and financial leverage.

4.1 NGO Numbers

Estimating the exact number of NGOs operating in Bangladesh is problematic since there is no single record of registered NG05. Since 1961, more that 19,000 NGOs have registered with the Department of Social Welfare (DSVV) (World Bank 1996), 25 of which 1,157 have been registered with the NGO Affairs Bureau (see Table 2). The difference between these two agencies is that while all NGOs in Bangladesh register with the DSW, only those receiving foreign funds are legally required to register with the NGO Bureau. The table reproduced below presents the data compiled at the NGO Bureau from its inception in 1990 to May of 1997.

24 From very early village ethnographies, we see that samities or NGOs were making their presence felt in very local issues such as village shalishes (arbitration structures) and land struggles (Jahangir 1979, Wood 1994). From the late 1970s, NGOs were also contributing to the academic tradition of identifying and understanding different power structures of the rural context (see for example BRAC 1979, 1983, 1984). 25 These records are rarely renewed and so it is likely that there are many registered groups that no longer exist.

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Table 2: Growth of Foreign Funded NGOs in Bangladesh

Year

Number of NGOs Local Foreign

Total

Cumulative Total

Until 1990 1990-1991 1991-1992 1992-1993 1993-1994 1994-1995 1995-1996 1996-

293 102 129 77 106 108 92 105

89 10 12 14 9 5 3 3

382 112 141 91 115 113 95 108

382 494 635 726 841 954 1049 115726

source: compiled from NGO Affairs Bureau database up to May 1997

It is not the number of NGOs which makes Bangladesh a unique case, but their concentration. With an estimated 20,000 NGOs (Clarke 1993), the Philippines for example has more NGOs than Bangladesh. Given however that Bangladesh is only half the size of the Philippines, its 19,000 NGOs make it a country with an extremely high concentration of NG0s.

4.2 NGO Coverage

With such a high level of NGO concentration, one would expect an extensive national coverage. In fact, it is claimed that there is some form of NGO presence in approximately 78% of the existing villages in Bangladesh (World Bank 1996), a fact which ratifies the claim made earlier that NGOs have penetrated society in a unique way. As we will have occasion to see later in the thesis, NGOs are still aggressively pursuing strategies to expand their operations even more. What the figures on coverage fail to reveal however is the uneven distribution of NGO presences. From 1990 to 1995, 60% of the newly registered NGOs were in the Division of Dhaka 27 where approximately 31% of the country's total population reside (World Bank 1996). There is concern that the emergence of 'NG capitals' like Tangail and Manikganj means that

26 The registration of 35 of these NGOs has been cancelled during the same period. 27 Bangladesh has 6 divisions: Dhaka, Chittagong, Rajshahi, Khulna, Barisal and Syhlet.

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other areas are being abandoned, overlooked or not properly attended to. In this case, there is a strong possibility that certain regional disparities may intensify.

4.3 NGO Constituencies

While NGOs grow numerically and extend their coverage, the size of their constituencies also increases. Again it is impossible to calculate here with any certainty. It is safe to surmise that the number of NGO members has by now surpassed the 2 million mark calculated by Sen in 1988 (quoted in White 1991) given that PROSHIKA alone claims to reach 4 million individuals and BRAC 1.42 million households (Lewis 1997). In fact recently, one author speculated that the number of people benefiting28 from NGO activities was approximately 24 million (Shailo 1994), which constitutes around 20% of the total population. If true, it is a significant figure for although the Philippines boasts the greatest number of NGOs in the developing world on a per capita basis (Clarke 1993), NGOs there reach only 10% of the total population (Clarke 1995). However as in the question of NGO coverage, the fact that the number of NGO members continues to increase in Bangladesh has to be critically assessed. In his discussion on NG0s, Kamal (1996) refers to a process of 'inappropriate targeting' whereby the moderately poor and vulnerable non-poor are specifically recruited to NGO groups while the vulnerable poor are less so. The significance of this is brought home by the World Bank's (1996) finding that as much as 20% of the total rural population in Bangladesh fall into the category of non-targeted, vulnerable poor.

4.4 NGO Finances

One of the most heated and sensitive aspects of the NGO debate in Bangladesh concerns the question of their finances and resources. This is not helped by the fact that available data on 'NG financial resources' is usually partial, incomparable and inconsistent. Despite this, it is clear that the actual amount of resources NGOs command continues to increase. While in 1989, it was estimated that NGOs were bringing into the country $ 85-100 million annually (White 1991), today the annual budgets of some single NGOs alone reach that figure. 29 This is consistent with, although not completely explained by, another commonly held view that the percentage of official aid channelled through NGOs has steadily increased. While in 1972/73, it

28

From the text it appears that the term 'benefiting' implies NGO membership.

BRAC's yearly budget is reported at $ 86 million by Chowdhury and Alam (1996). During my fieldwork, I heard of NGOs submitting proposals with an annual budget of over $ 100 million.

29

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was calculated that NGOs received approximately 1% of foreign aid, White (1991) estimated that in 1988 NGOs were receiving around 6% of the Official Development Assistance (ODA) received by the Government. More recently, the 1992 Asian Development Bank report stated that about $ 250 million was channelled annually through NG0s, representing between 10 and 12% of the official development budget (Asian Development Bank 1992: 15). The figures may not permit precise comparisons, but they substantiate the claim that NGOs have access to increased resources. To further qualify this general claim, it is worth keeping in mind two important trends. The first concerns the distribution of resources among NGOs and highlights the fact that in Bangladesh, between 8 and 30 NGOs absorb up to 80% of available resources.3 Secondly, an increase in financial resources does not necessarily entail that NGOs have become more dependent on foreign sources. Locally generated finances are an important source of funds and the increasing focus on credit provision has changed the way NGOs fund their activities. For example, at least one major NGO in Bangladesh claims to cover all its operating expenses with profits gained from its successful credit programme (Rutherford 1995), while others have already set deadlines from when they will no longer need donor funds.

5. NGO-STATE RELATIONS

Given, as I have argued above, that NGOs have taken over the development role once occupied by state sponsored institutions, it is not difficult to perceive why the question of government - non government (GO-NGO) relations is important. Not only are both sides locked in a straggle over roles and resources, but they also insist on defining themselves in opposition to each other. This insistence, as White correctly notes, has produced a "sterile opposition of totemic motifs, overloaded with moral, social and political meanings whose non-interrogation blocks mature understanding" (White 1996: 2).

The GO-NGO relation is inherently complex and ambiguous. Sanyal (1991) captures this complexity by arguing that although both sets of organisations tend to highlight their differences, they actually nurture a remarkably high level of co-operation and operate in very similar ways. He qualifies their relation as one of 'antagonistic co-operation' and contends that this form of relation allows both sets of actors to pursue their respective institutional interests. Importantly, and contrary to neo-Marxist understandings of inter and intra institutional behaviour, Sanyal argues that these interests are neither fixed nor immutable, but evolving and negotiable. While therefore it is true that GOs and NGOs in Bangladesh have differing pictures of each other (Lewis 1993), they can only do so because they are continually looking at and 3 The higher estimate is taken from Asian Development Bank (1992), while the lower estimate is quoted in World Bank (1996). These two estimates are not necessarily contradictory for it is likely that of the 30 privileged NGOs there are 8 'extra privileged' ones.

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and actions are often motivated more by institutional interests than ideological commitments.

5.2 The 1992 Crisis

In the post Ershad period, a number of opportunities opened up offering NGOs the chance to re-establish their beleaguered credibility. First of all, many leading NGOs became members of the Bangladesh Mukto Nirbachan AndoIon (BAMNA), an organisation of progressive groups convened to monitor the parliamentary elections of 1991. Just prior to this, ADAB had published a document outlining the NGO position on development and democracy (ADAB 1991). This is an important document in that it is the first explicit public statement of NGOs on political matters and in effect formalised their entry and aggregation to a more progressive 'movement for democracy'. Secondly, just two weeks after the 1991 parliamentary elections, much of the South East of the country was devastated by a cyclone. new Prime Minster, Khaleda Zia, sought the advice and co-operation of NGOs whose role after the 1988 floods had been widely appreciated. In 1991 therefore, NGOs and government officials worked closely together managing different relief co-ordinating centres (ADAB 1992). A third event which influenced GO-NGO relations in the early 1990s was the decision to give full and sole responsibility for approving NGO registrations and project proposals to the NGO Bureau. This represented a vast improvement on previous practice and meant that in comparison with many other countries, NGOs in Bangladesh enjoyed a relatively liberal policy environment (Riker 1995).

It is surprising that one of the most openly confrontational episodes of GO-NGO relations occurred at a time when the environment seemed generally relaxed and collaborative. The '1992 crisis' was essentially a politically motivated one (Hashemi 1995, Holloway 1998). A report written in July of 1992 by the NGO Bureau and submitted to the Prime Minister accused NGOs of a number of subversive activities such as meddling in political activities, acting in collusion with donors, proselytising, abusing the poor and amassing financial wealth through fraudulent ways (Jamil and Mannan 1994). One month later, the Bureau issued a letter announcing the deregistration of ADAB, the freezing of all its accounts, the confiscation of its documents and the arrest of at least one prominent ADAB leader for anti-state activities. Although this letter was retracted the same day by the Prime Minster's Office, probably as a result of some high level contacts between donor and government officials, it forced NGOs back under the spotlight and nurtured an environment of controversy and suspicion.

33 The cyclone caused the death of 134,000 people and damage estimated at $ 2 billion.

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Shortly after this incident, NGOs were embroiled in a highly emotive and publicised confrontation with certain 'fundamentalist forces' whose political interests in Bangladesh are often grouped under the umbrella of the Jamate Islami (JI) party. 34 In 1991, JI had secured 18 parliamentary seats and entered a post-electoral alliance with BNP who were seeking a ruling majority. Through this alliance, JI managed to access a level of formal power and political leverage which they had never experienced before. Although the public stand-off between NGOs and fundamentalist forces has been raised in the literature (Hashemi 1995, Karim 1995, Alam 1995), the immediate cause of the crisis is not clear. In a general sense of course, their respective agendas emerge from and point in fundamentally different directions. Thus, the efforts to establish an Islamic polity often entail a general critique of westemised development interventions (Feldman 1997), while the NGO strategy of targeting women often entails a critique of the patriarchal and gendered norms, often religiously sanctioned, which condition women's relations to state, market, community and family. The '1992 crisis' has therefore to be placed in a wider context in which questions of national identity, state formation and the role of Islam are contested.

Around mid-1993 and in different parts of the country NGO property, activities, staff and members became the object of fundamentalist attacks. BRAC in particular was singled out: 60 of their schools were bumed and 60 more closed down, over 100,000 mulberry trees were destroyed causing disruption to their sericulture programme, and fatwas (religious edicts) were issued against staff and members alike. Many other NGOs were also affected. The NGO response to this was a unified and high profile one. They produced a 'social disaster training package' which sought to unmask the 'fundamentalist political project' and teach both staff and members how to deal pragmatically with fundamentalist attacks, disruptions and threats. NGOs throughout the country also sent representatives on special training courses on fundamentalism, which were organised by ADAB. At the same time, NGOs were highly suspicious of the fact that JI had the formal support of the incumbent Government and consequently began building alliances with influential, progressive and liberal activists and groups.

5.3 The 1996 Crisis

In the middle of 1995, two parliamentary bye-elections were held in Mirpur and Magura. In both cases, BNP were accused of vote rigging and electoral terrorism. This eventually led to a drawn out period of agitational politics which was supported by all the main opposition parties.
I use the term 'fundamentalist' in the very ambiguous and superficial way it is often used in Bangladesh. In the incidents I am referring to above, Jamate Islami were identified as 'fundamentalist forces'.
34

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In an attempt to quickly control the ensuing political impasse, the Government organised fresh elections for the
i5

" of February 1996. These however, as I stated in the opening page of this

chapter, were boycotted by the vast majority of both political parties and the electorate. In a defiant stance, the opposition initiated a non co-operation movement which remained in force until the Prime Minister eventually resigned on the 30 th of March 1996. Throughout this political crisis, NGOs played a prominent role by publicly denouncing the legitimacy of the February 15th elections and supporting the opposition demands for a caretaker government (ADAB 1996a. 1996b).

As this political crisis unfolded, the relationship between NGOs and the Government gradually worsened with the former reiterating its accusation that the latter promoted 'fundamentalist' positions. This was seen for example in the Government's decision to refuse NGOs permission to stage a public People's Rally to commemorate the 1995 Social Development Conference held in Copenhagen. NGOs believed 38 that in issuing their decision, the Government had succumbed to the pressure of fundamentalist forces who had a number of strong allies holding ministerial positions. With the support of prominent civil society leaders, left-wing politicians and the main opposition party (Awami League), NGOs took their case to the Supreme Court who passed judgement in their favour. After the Government failed in its appeal against the ruling, the Rally eventually took place on the 1 st of January 1996 (see introduction of chapter one). By this time however the Government's hold on power was slipping rapidly and opposition, which included NG0s, was mustering strength, numbers and unity.

The events of January the 1 st were reported extensively and favourably in the press and this encouraged NGOs to assume a more public role in the non-cooperation movement for democracy. The episode of the human chain that opens this chapter is an example of the proactive stance taken by NG0s. In chapter eight I will give more details about the different alliances and strategies fashioned by and through NGOs during this particular political crisis.

6. THE NGO COMMUNITY

I spent considerable time listening to different accounts of these three crises. Initially my interest lay in trying to trace the external relationships NGOs built up with other prominent actors. Exploring how certain alliances are isolated and other ones incorporated is fundamental to understanding the NGO phenomenon. However, the more I listened and probed, the more I
Although 41 parties contested the elections, these were all small organisations which had been sponsored by BNP to participate. 3e There is no way of confirming these statements. However, in the context of Bangladesh, I would not discredit information simply because it has been disseminated through rumours or speculation.
35

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realised that these crises also offered an important insight into understanding NGO intrarelations. These are an equally important facet of the NGO phenomenon in Bangladesh. It is erroneous therefore to presume that NGO positions are always homogenous and undifferentiated. In fact, in both the 1990 and 1996 crises when NGOs seem to be united, there were serious internal divisions among NGO members which were evident at the very highest levels.

In 1990, the then Chairperson of ADAB, Dr. Zafrullah Chowdury lost his position in very controversial circumstances. According to the public version, he was made to resign because he refused to sign a statement issued by ADAB in favour of the pro-democracy movement of 1990 (Holloway 1998). It is alleged that Chowdury had moved too close to Ershad's government because it had given him room to introduce, against the interests of international pharmaceutical companies, a pro-poor national health policy (Chowdury 1995). Chowdury's own version of accounts however is that he was used as a scapegoat by other NGOs desperate to both justify their procrastinated support for the 'democracy movement', and take over the reigns of ADAB. 37 Likewise in 1996, the NGOs were severely divided over ADAB's role in the non-cooperation movement. Following one particular event in which certain NGO leaders issued a statement calling for the cancellation of the 15 February 1996 elections, several newspapers published articles criticising the over politicised and partisan role of ADAB. Their criticism was built around a letter written by the Chairperson of a very prominent NGO to the Chairperson of ADAB complaining that the statement read out in ADAB's name a) had been issued without proper consultation and b) jeopardised the political neutrality and hence future of NGOs in Bangladesh. Throughout my fieldwork, the rift between these two prominent NGO leaders was a major talking point and significantly influenced subsequent NGO strategies.38

Sections four and five of this chapter have highlighted certain dimensions of the contemporary NGO phenomenon in Bangladesh. These were the most important macro dimensions I encountered while carrying out my fieldwork and they were the dimensions which most influenced my understanding of and approach to NG0s. The profile which emerges is a complex one. On the one hand, there is a strong sense of NGO organisation, unity and consolidation in Bangladesh. This is borne out in the way they have successfully penetrated society and are more than capable of strategically engaging with other politically prominent actors and agents. On the other hand, there is an equally strong sense that the NGO unity and organisation carries with it serious internal differences, ruptures and conflict. The existence of NGO monarchs, NGO capitals or centres of power, NGO expansionist programmes (all

37 Sources for this version include personal interviews and official letters written about the 'resignation' of Chowdury. I am not in a position to validate one version of events over another. My intention is to simply highlight the strategic positions and shifting allegiances which took place at the very highest level of the NGO community.
38

As we will see for example, in the discussion on 'NGO panels' (chapter six, section 6.2).

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highlighted in section four) are possible indicators and sources of internal tension which many NGO activists brought to my attention in different discussions.

The attempt to make sense of the different but co-existing moments and expressions of NGO unity and conflict, fission and fusion which emerged strongly in various discussions, led me to think about the applicability of a problematic but potentially fertile notion of 'NG community'.

6.1 The Notion of Community

Since the nineteenth century, social theorists have tended to contrast the concept of community with that of society. Given that most of these early theorists worked with evolutionary ideas and models, their basic premises are remarkably similar even if their linguistic preferences differ. Thus, it was thought that traditional communities, held together by bonds of status (Maine 1881), pursuing relationships based on empathy and kinship (Tonnies 1963) and promoting forms of organic solidarity (Durkheim 1964) would be replaced in time by modem societies organised around contractual (Maine 1881), associational and legal (Tonnies 1963) and mechanical solidarities (Durkheim 1964). Community in most of these and later studies was deployed in a predominantly descriptive and normative way. Hence it was used either to describe territories, social structures and sentiments (Clark 1973), or define a reality which was perceived to contrast with the disorganisation and anomie associated with the idea of society. As one author puts it:

[community] is warm and wet and intimate; society is cold and dry and formal. Community is love; society is, well, business. (Berger 1998: 324) Despite the prognostics of these theorists, neither the notion nor the importance of community disappeared with time. Indeed, of late it has made a sort of intellectual comeback with different authors perceiving community less as a primordial, ideal type, and more as a social, historically and symbolically constructed reality (Anderson 1983, Cohen 1985, Thompson 1963). Benedict Anderson's seminal definition of the nation as an imagined community is relevant to our discussion here:

[It] is imagined because the members of even the smallest nation will never know most of their fellow-members, meet them, or even hear of them, yet in the minds of each lives the image of their communion [...] it is imagined as a community, because, regardless of the actual inequality and exploitation that may prevail in each, the nation is always conceived as a deep, horizontal comradeship. (Anderson 1983: 7, original emphasis) In this new perspective, the focus of attention is no longer on the structural basis of community but on what Cohen has described as the "sense of a primacy of belonging" (Cohen 1985: 15). 71

The boundaries of communities are therefore no longer fixed and immovable, but flexible and versatile. Indeed, people can now 'imagine' belonging to multiple communities simultaneously (Chavez 1994).

However it is at this point that the notion of community encounters serious difficulties. The idea that communities offer "a sense of identity within a bonded whole to its members" (Hamilton 1985: 9) risks presuming and presenting uniformity where important differences and inequalities may exist. Studies on the dimensions of conflict and bargaining within family households (Sen 1990) for example clearly warn against the idea that members of a particular unit are always treated equally. To rework Anderson's definition then, community may allow comradeship regardless of inequality, but it does not necessarily guarantee comradeship without inequality.

A useful way of partly resolving the tension which exists in trying to maintain in the concept of community both the 'bonded unity' and 'internal inequality' aspects is suggested by Cohen (1985). He argues that the symbolic meanings which allow people to nurture a sense of identity are perceived differently by members and non-members. This enables him to speak of a public or typical community mode (outsiders' perceptions) and a private or idiosyncratic mode (members' perceptions). Thus:

the boundary as the community's public face is symbolically simple; but, as the object of internal discourse it is symbolically complex. (Cohen 1985: 74) This idea first of all allows us to use single unit categories such as community without denying (indeed while acknowledging) internal complexity and contention. What appears homogenous externally may be intemally very heterogeneous and differentiated. Secondly, Cohen's insight also allows us to postulate that community organisations have both 'public' and 'private' modes. Members of particular communities move between both modes and try to manage them in a coherent way. The modes may not always follow the same rules and the presentation especially of the public mode may be contingent, to use Sanyal's (1991) argument, not on ideological grounds but on the perceived needs or best interests of the moment.

6.2 NGOs as Community

References to NGOs as communities are not frequent in the literature,

in part the

value given to theorising diversity and pluralism. Other synonyms or pseudonyms however can
Important exceptions to this statement can be found where NGOs are portrayed as part of a global civil society (Macdonald 1994), transnational institutional phenomenon (Townsend 1999), or development movement (Korten 1990).
ag

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be found. For example in the context of Bangladesh, Shelly (1992) and Glaser et al (1992) introduce and test the strength of the notion of an NGO-led 'development movement'. In both cases, the question about a possible development movement is raised to try and understand what holds NGO networks together and why they are formed. A similar procedure is found in Jamil's (1994) enquiry into the possible existence of a 'development regime' in Bangladesh. A development regime entails the "existence of coalitions, alliances or co-operation between different actors for making and implementing community change programs at the local level" (Jamil 1994: 6). In the case of Bangladesh these actors are NG0s, donors and the government. All of these authors however reject the idea of a unifying regime or movement on the basis that there are too many irreconcilable differences among NGOs (Glaser et al 1992), or between NGOs and other actors (Jamil 1994). Diversity and heterogeneity therefore are taken to exclude the possibility of theorising about unity and homogeneity.

In a recent publication, Shelley Feldman has used the notion of community to refer to NGOs in Bangladesh. This time NGO diversity and heterogeneity are included in the definition:

I use the term "NGO community" to refer to the growth and heterogeneity of private voluntary and nongovernmental organisations [...j. Recognizing their heterogeneity is critical to appreciating how they organise and engage in negotiating electoral politics as well as how they constitute and shape the meaning of civil society. (Feldman 1997: 56, n.20) Unfortunately, in all the approaches mentioned above, including that of Feldman, the authors use their preferred terms (movement, regime or community) in a weak sense, i.e. as empirical descriptors for highlighting different forms of co-operation. The use I intend with the `NGO community' expression however is slightly stronger. I adopt the term in this thesis to enable me to give analytical priority to the shifting terrain of NGO internal and external relations. This is consistent with the central premise of this thesis which states that the key to understanding the significance of NGOs in Bangladesh lies in tracing and exploring the multiple and evolving relationships they are engaged in. Two further points need to be reiterated. First of all, the notion of NGO community does not presuppose that all NGOs are the same, or that they are treated equally, or that they share immovable and established interests. As both the theoretical discussion on community and the analysis of the three crises indicate, relations within the NGO community are being constantly constructed and pass through moments of both fission and fusion. Secondly, the notion of NGO community sensitises analysis to the fact that NGOs have to 'imagine' both public and private modes of representation (Cohen 1985), which may be complementary but are not always necessarily so. As the thesis will illustrate through the case study material presented in the second part, it is in how these different representations are managed and presented that NGOs gain or lose strategic advantage. 40 From a research

4 For an excellent appraisal showing how community representations can be 'imagined' at different levels and how these produce different outcomes, see Li (1996).

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perspective, it is important therefore to remember that like people, NGOs

may invest in meanings as well as in the means of production - and [that the] struggles over meaning are as much part of the process of resource allocation as are struggles over surplus or the labour process. (Berry in Li 1996: 501) So far this chapter has tried to offer a historical analysis as well as an appreciation of the contemporary NGO phenomenon in Bangladesh. The history of NGOs in Bangladesh is intimately tied to the history of the country itself and as that history has unfolded, NGOs have gradually assumed a position of significance and prominence. The question which arises now and which the final section of the chapter addresses, is how the NGO community will look as this history continues to unfold.

7. NG0s: HERE TO STAY?

The most persistent theme in discussions concerning the future of NGOs is that of sustainability. 41 This is not only a concern of the literature, but also a practical priority for all NGOs in Bangladesh. Sustainability is a global imperative reflecting shifts, experienced especially in the North, in thinking about self-reliance and aid: charity and entrepreneurship can and must be married. While most authors accept that NGOs have to prioritise the question of sustainability, 42 a few dissenting voices exist which caution against transforming the quest for sustainability into an end in itself (Dichter 1997, HuIme and Edwards 1997a). For our discussion, two general observations from the literature on sustainability are relevant. First of all, the literature focuses almost exclusively on the financial aspects of the sustainability question. This is however too narrow an approach with which to hold a discussion on sustainability. Indeed, the experience of NGOs in Bangladesh allows us to reflect on a wider and more varied set of sustainable models which for my present argument I have classified into three: franchise, financial and political. A second feature of the literature is that it is sensitive to the potential trade-offs and dangers implicit in the quest for organisational sustainability. For NGOs therefore the risk is that the

concern for scale, outreach and financial sustainability will become so great that the original goal - development, and the growing understanding of its myriad complexities - may again be forgotten. (Dichter 1997: 138)

For general discussions see Friedmann (1992), Fisher (1993), Uphoff (1995), Dichter (1997) and Hulme and Edwards (1997a). 42 The assumption here is not that all NGO projects are sustainable or replicable, but rather that they should all try to be" (Vivian and Maseko 1994: 21, original emphasis).

41

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In my discussion on the different models, I will therefore be indicating their potential contradictions or dilemmas.

7.1 The Franchise Model

In the franchise model, NGOs seek their sustainability by tendering for contracts to deliver particular social services. These contracts are offered to NGOs by donors, governments and at least in the context of Bangladesh, other bigger NG0s. In 1990, David Korten argued that the franchise process had generated a novel organisational form: the 'public service contractors' (PSCs). In true Korten fashion, these PSCs are being fundamentally different from voluntary organisations (V0s) in that they "are driven by market considerations more than by values and therefore are more like businesses" (Korten 1990: 102). Hulme (1994) has since further elaborated this distinction and more realistically placed PSCs and VOs on opposite ends of a continuum. With Hulme's model, it is easier to appreciate how both external and internal pressures adopt the franchise model have in fact reshaped the whole 'third sector'. There are very few, if any, NGOs on the VO extreme of the pole.

The franchise model is an increasingly common one in Bangladesh. NGOs are involved in ensuring the delivery of a comprehensive range of services (functional literacy, skills training, primary health, welfare services and so on), and in some cases (non-formal primary education and banking services) their delivery system is bigger than that of the Government itself. Since these contracts supply important funds and employment opportunities, NGOs now actively compete for them. Winning these contracts however is perceived as a mixed blessing. For those NGOs whose only source of funds are franchised services, the possibilities of being coopted or controlled by those offering the contracts is significantly greater. The problem in this case lies not so much in the contracts themselves, but in the terms and conditions attached to the contracts.

Wood (1994) has identified a subtler problem with the franchise model. He argues that while the delivery of services through non-state organisations might be an effective strategy, the fact that it entails a fragmentation of the same delivery service allows for the blurring of accountability. As he himself argues: 'more exit equals less voice and loyalty'. In a context where resource exchange and welfare provision are important tools for building ties of loyalty and 'senses of belonging', the franchising of state functions may lead in extremis to a situation he describes as 'states without citizens'.
43

According to Robinson (1997), three factors encourage the franchise option: structural adjustment and stabilisation, the neo-liberal insistence on the reduced role of the state and global pressures for democratic reform.

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7.2 The Financial Model

Discussions of self-reliance and sustainability inevitably end up focusing on financial models. Throughout the world, NGOs are involved in numerous income-generating ventures ranging from cottage industries to telecommunications to fashion shows. It is however the provision of credit which has become the most established and orthodox way of generating funds (Fernando 1997). There are good and obvious reasons for this. First of all, credit provision is a single franchisable service with an intrinsic revenue-generating capacity. Secondly, it does not require sophisticated management skills. Finally, demand for credit is high especially in countries where formal credit providing institutions cater only for a small percentage of the population.

The NGO community in Bangladesh boasts a number of tested credit models which have attracted the attention of the international community. The success of these models is revealed in a number of ways. First of all, credit programmes have allowed some NGOs like ASA (Rashid 1997) and the Grameen Bank (Hashemi and Morshed 1997) to achieve operational self-sufficiency, and others like BRAC (Mushtaque et a/ 1997) and PROSHIKA (Wood 1998, personal communication) to cover significant parts of their main programmes. Secondly, given that financial services are easy to implement, NGOs use them as 'entry points' to introduce themselves to new areas and attract new members. Thus NGOs offering financial services now cover approximately 25% of poor households in Bangladesh (Rutherford 1997). Finally, NGOs in Bangladesh are stimulating the wider global debate on the role of credit in development (Wood and Sherif 1997), demonstrated in the role they played in the 1997 Micro Credit Summit held in Washington.

Since the financial model is so prioritised in discussions of sustainability, its risks and dangers are also well recorded. The list is potentially endless. At a very general level, it is argued that the shift to credit may result in a de-emphasising or reinventing of core NGO agendas. Amin (1997) for example studied five small-scale NGOs in Bangladesh and found that the only one to significantly scale-up was the one that concentrated solely on providing credit. Critically, in order to scale-up, the organisation had to abandon its initial holistic development approach to concentrate on its credit services. While some (Rutherford 1997) positively interpret this as a sign that NGOs are capable of adapting and innovating, others (White 1991) are more cautious and ask for greater discernment. Many NGO leaders in Bangladesh struggle themselves with the question of financial sustainability. The accusation that an NGO "only does credir is normally derisory and most organisations feel uncomfortable with this tag. For many, there is something not quite right in the idea that massive organisations become sustainable through contributions from those who have least to give. But since there are no other models with such

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a good track record," it is likely that the credit based financial one will continue to dominate the discussions on sustainability.

7.3 The Political Model

The idea of a political model refers to the possibility of NGOs securing social prominence and permanence through deliberate strategies of alliance building. As this chapter has already shown, the ability to build linkages with other actors and thus create constituencies of support and mobilisation has been a deciding factor in the survival, growth and 'career path' of the NGO community. Could this same ability not be a key with which to confront the question of sustainability?

Currently in Bangladesh, the NGO attempt to build up a constituency moves in two main directions. In the first, NGOs build on their existing membership and seek to construct long term institutions for and with them. Many of the larger NGOs have already started federating their own sub village-level groups into higher levels in an attempt to hand over more control to members (ADAB 1997). The Trinamul Janasangathan, which played a key role in organising the Poverty Convention (see chapter one), is the first example of a federated institution of poor members from different NG0s. Although some research has already been carried out into these incipient institutional forms (D'Rozario: 1998), it is still too early to draw precise conclusions. One of the core questions for example that needs to be addressed is whether or not NGOs are actually (as opposed to rhetorically) committed to a process whereby their members can 'graduate' and represent themselves without NGO inter-mediation (White 1991), and if so, under what conditions.

The second way NGOs can build wider constituencies is by trying to win the support of other non-poor but sympathetic activists. Of particular importance here is the emerging middle class (intellectuals, business community, professionals and so on) of Bangladesh. Hitherto either overlooked or ignored by the development community, the middle class is like the NGO community, a modem sector capable of organising and mobilising around specific articulated interests (Kochanek 1993). There are potentially a number of general areas where the interests of both the NGO and business communities may converge such as a commitment to secular politics, economic and social rights, entrepreneurship and so on (Wood 1996). Or, there may be more specific moments when it is strategically opportune for both communities to work together as for example when they shared a platform to ask for the restoration of political stability during the 1996 political impasse (Devine 1996b). Nurturing favourable links with the

44 Holloway (1998) suggests NGOs in Bangladesh be funded through endowment grants. A number of experiments are under way (Holloway 1998: 118-123), but have yet to receive serious donor backing. 77

country's middle class may open up important routes to domestic capital and this could have a bearing on how both the franchise and financial models evolve.

The political model throws into light two immediate problems. On the one hand, unlike the financial model, the political one has no intrinsic revenue generating capacity. Given that NGOs are under pressure to find reliable strategies quickly, the political model may have very limited short and long-term utility. On the other hand, there is a need to examine carefully the extent to which strategies relying on the building of coalitions with other social forces lead NGOs towards a more explicitly politicised agenda. I am not passing a judgement with this statement, but merely pointing out how the political model ultimately calls into question the very nature of NGOs themselves.

8. CONCLUSION

This chapter attempts to give a general overview of one of the most sophisticated NGO communities in the world. I focus this introduction around the past, present and possible future profiles of the NGO community. First of all, a historical appraisal of the NGO phenomenon in Bangladesh shows how NGOs gradually managed to become the dominant development model replacing a state sponsored programme. In trying to account for the subsequent rise to prominence of NG0s, I try to give greater explanatory significance to the particular social, economic and political contexts of the early formative years of Independent Bangladesh. Secondly, I complement this historical analysis with an outline of the contemporary NGO scene in Bangladesh. Here I explore the size, concentration and coverage of NG0s, as well as the resources they manage. Finally, the chapter ends with a brief examination of how the question of sustainability presents itself in the Bangladesh context. I try to widen the debate on sustainability by deliberating not only on the familiar financial model of sustainability, but also on political and franchise models which the experience of the NGO community in Bangladesh suggests.

NGOs in Bangladesh are not only sophisticated organisations, they are also socially significant ones. In my presentation of NGOs in Bangladesh, I therefore attempt to capture aspects of this significance. My main argument is that the essence of NGO social significance lies in their multiple relations ad intra, as well as ad extra. In the chapter, I analyse a number of historical contexts involving NGOs and show how the terrain where their relations unfold is a highly flexible and fluid one, with NGOs continually passing through moments of fission and fusion, both internally and externally. In order to analytically prioritise the dynamism of these relations, I suggest and explain how the notion of `NGO community' might be fruitfully applied.

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In chapter three, the importance of relations is once again retained. While chapter one focused on the global significance of NGOs and this chapter on their national significance in the context of Bangladesh, the overall rationale for chapter three is to ask what significance NGOs have from the perspective of the poor. In the first three chapters, I am therefore allowing the one idea (NGO significance) to cascade through three different domains: the global, the national and the local.

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CHAPTER THREE

THE LOCAL SIGNIFICANCE OF NG0s: MAKING RELATIONSHIPS WORK

1. INTRODUCTION

Diary - June io, 1997

".My husband died of tuberculosis 10 years ago. .Ife was a landless labourer and we cauldnot afford the medicine he neecthd 'When he died the only possession we had-was the house. I hadno one (amar 'feu chith na) to he me: my father in Caw -was too old; to -work, my husband's brothers aa-Fuzdtheir own families to look after andmy own brothers were too poor to provicth for me andmy two young children. Jvfy situation was so bad andI had' to ask aroundfar loans and work. But no one wanted to (Tend' me mcmey since I had' no way of repaying it back and the only work available was rolling cigarette paper for the local factory. One day, some of the women from anotherpara (neighbourhood cluster within a village) told' me that the .NGO might be able to help me. When
I went to the office, those who worked askedme f I -wouelstart a new samity

In my awnpara. I agreed to help but when my father in law andrelatives found out, they were annoyed and angry and said that I would only bring the family a efurnam (badreputation) if I joined the samity. But I toad-them that I had to find a way of looking after my children andmyseT and the .NGO had been the only ones to say that they could; help me. Eventually I managedto get a group of women together and our first meeting took pace in my own courtyard The night after the first meeting, we heard that some of the women wouldnot be returning to the samiLy. like me, they had beenpressured by their husbance, relatives andneighbours not to attendthe meetings. feeCsorry for those women now because I know that I have benefited in many ways from being with the samity. First of cd I have receivedtwo dOn.as of Inas land on which I can grow rice andvegetabths. This means that for apart of the year, my family doesn't have to buy rice. I have aeo 'managed to build a
1 A bigha is a unit of land which officially corresponds to 0.33 acres. In some regions however, the actual amount of land to one bigha may vary slightly. 81

new house as well as a small- shedfar the cows and goats I bought with a than from the .ArGO. Like the other women, I have been saving money every week since I joined the samity. The money is in the bank andI know that one day in the future it will be very useful But most importantly, I am glad tFutt I am with the samity because I can look after my family: my father in law stays in this house with me andI buy whatever he neec&; my children are still-with me andl have managed to pay for their schooling. This year they will both sit their matric examination2 and if they _pass, I will- try and sendthem to coa-ege next year. I am our samity thazthr azurso many women from thispara come to me when they are in trouble. Many of them are widows and have no-one to look after them (tazkr ifeu rzey). Ijust tea-them that I was like that before I joined the samity. Of course my life is still hard but at least now I know that with the samity I have people (amar keu ace) I can rely an - they are myfrienc&. I tell these other women to come andjoin the samity, but I think they are still too frightened"

I had asked the woman who recounted the above experience to explain what differences, if any, the samity had brought to her life. Her response was simple and straightforward. For her the most important thing was that the samity allowed her to say that she had someone (amar keu ache), and this contrasted with the situation of some of her neighbours who had no-one (fader keu ney). To begin to understand what she is implying with this distinction, it is important to note the difference in Bengali between amar keu ney (I have no-one) and amar kichu ney (I have nothing). The latter indicates a state of serious material poverty, the former a deeper state of entrenched powerlessness and hopelessness. While this chapter will help further elucidate this distinction, at this point it is worth noting that in Bangladesh 'having no-one' expresses a more extreme state of vulnerability, helplessness and poverty.

In his doctoral thesis, Peter Bertocci (1970) looked at the relationship between community organisation and social structure in East Pakistan (today's Bangladesh). Early into his research, he realised that prevalent categories derived from the anthropological literature were
2

National examination for those having completed 10 years of basic education.

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inadequate to describe and analyse the village organisations he was observing. He himself admits that he only began to understand the real significance of social organisations in Bangladesh once he had learnt to see rural settlements as the inhabitants themselves saw them (Bertocci 1970: 35).

The lesson to be learnt from Bertocci's experience is that the way people interpret their own experiences and reality is an important interpretative key for our research and analysis. It is pertinent in this regard that research on NGOs generally fails to document how poor people themselves perceive or experience NG0s. By listening to people's accounts of how they perceived their life, Bertocci began to question the utility of the tools and models he had brought with him for his research. Similarly, this chapter intends trying to understand how NGO members themselves might 'see' their respective NGOs and samities, and by implication, it accepts that their perspectives may well lead us to an understanding of NGOs which the global and national perspectives outlined in chapters one and two fail to provide.

2. RESOURCES, CAPITAL AND SURVIVAL

Development research in Bangladesh highlights what appears to be two contradictory observations both of which were mentioned in the introductory pages of chapter two. On the one hand, Bangladesh is presented as a case of pervasive, spiralling poverty, a country where "only disaster and destruction happen overnight" (PMV 1979: 11). On the other hand, there is also a more dynamic image of Bangladesh in which poor people combine different strategies to perfect what could be described as the art of survival (Jansen 1987, White 1992, Kramjso and Wood 1992, Wood 1994). The ability to perfect such an art in the context of adverse and persistent poverty has led at least one commentator to write:

ultimately I predict that the supreme adaptation of the Bangladesh peasant society to the ecological niche will be its salvation. The success of its adaptation (in ecological, not humanitarian terms) has the potential in the long run of calling into question some of the most fundamental assumptions and values of the west. (Maloney 1985: 3)3 Maloney's account is interesting in that the ability of the poor to adapt to adverse conditions and manage survival strategies occupies a central place in his analysis of poverty eradication initiatives in Bangladesh. In this Maloney is not alone, for there are already a number of wellestablished research traditions pursuing a similar line. Prominent among these are: theories of entitlements (Sen 1982, Kepe 1997), social capital (Coleman 1988, 1990, Putnam 1993, Brown

In another publication, Maloney (1988: 83-84) outlines eight values and assumptions he believes are challenged by the experience of the poor in Bangladesh.

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and Ashman 1996), resource profiles (Lewis and McGregor 1993, Wood 1998), vulnerability analysis (Swift 1989, Devereux 1993, Davies 1993) and asset building (Moser 1998). Although these traditions follow distinct trajectories, they all share the basic assumption that individuals, households and communities possess non-material as well as material, intangible as well as tangible resources which they deploy strategically to secure particular objectives. By giving analytical as well as policy importance to these non-material resources, these traditions can be seen as broadly supporting an attempt to analyse poverty and 'coping strategies' as multidimensional rather than merely `economic' phenomena (Swift 1989, Moser 1998).

In one of the studies cited above, Lewis and McGregor (1993) offer an analytical framework in which households4 are portrayed as having the following sets of resources: material, human, social, cultural, and natural. Of these, both the social and cultural resources correspond to the non-material or intangible resources mentioned earlier. Elaborating on the social categories the authors state that

households build up relations with other households or organisations which can be used to maintain or improve their situation. These might include relations in the market (e.g. with particular traders, shopkeepers etc.), relations in the community (with richer neighbours or patrons, village leaders etc.) and relationships with the state (with local politicians and bureaucrats). (Lewis and McGregor 1993: 10, emphasis added) Clearly the operative word here is 'relationships' and the underlying notion is that of establishing favourable connections and contacts with other important agents. The point of distinguishing social resources is that it enables us to appreciate the importance of social relationships in securing wellbeing especially in contexts where material resources are scarce. To this extent, it may be argued that social interaction is a necessary condition for survival while social isolation, in which effective relationships, connections or networks are either weak or absent, reflects a more extreme and entrenched form of poverty. This general statement is what is inferred in the distinction people in Bangladesh make between amar keu ache (I have someone) and amar keu ney (I have no-one).

Focusing on the use of social relations and interaction is not completely new to social analysis. Indeed some analysts have argued that the way interpersonal relationships are manipulated by actors and then fashioned into formal and informal networks, associations or coalitions constitutes the very 'basic stuff of social life" (Boissevain 1974: 4). Having said that however, there is no doubt that the introduction of the notion of social capital has helped reanimate

Lewis and McGregor (1993) emphasise the household since it is the basic unit of social and economic reproduction. However resource analysis may, in theory, be equally applicable to individuals or organisations.

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discussions on the importance of social relationships and networks. 5 The link between socially constructed relations and social capital is made explicit in Coleman's (1988, 1990) writings when he states that social capital "inheres in the structure of relations between actors and among actors. It is not lodged in the actors themselves or in the physical implements of production" (Coleman 1988: S98, emphasis added).

Although the notion of social capital has generated a number of different academic approaches, these all share certain themes which are particularly relevant for our discussion here.6 First of all, they assume that social relationships are an important source of power and influence. As Coleman argues, social capital "is productive, making possible the achievement of certain ends that in its absence would not be possible" (Coleman 1988: S98). Secondly, like other forms of capital, social capital is not a fixed stock or asset, but can be invested in and strengthened over time (Holland 1998). Thirdly, social capital can produce a number of positive development benefits, including inter alia the creation of stable, trusting and reliable relationships between individuals, the involvement and participation of individuals in coordinated actions (Brown and Ashman 1996), and ultimately, the overall performance of both wider economic and political spheres (Putnam 1993).

This particular use of social capital links in well with some of the ideas found in the 'resource profile' literature. To the extent that social capital makes possible the achievement of certain ends that otherwise would not be possible, it is reasonable to presume that the stronger the capital, the greater the possibility of securing particular outcomes. In other words, the resource base determines the strength of what Sen (1982) refers to as the 'exchange entitlement' of social actors. 7 The question that needs therefore to be looked at now is: how do actors increase the value of their exchange entitlement?
5 Introductions to the notion of social capital are given in Coleman 1988, 1990 and Putnam 1993. Discussions, elaborations and case studies are provided by Tarrow 1996, Brown and Ashman 1996, World Bank 1997, Harriss and De Renzio 1997, Fox 1997, Beall 1997, Pulzel 1997, Holland 1998, Moser 1998, Portes 1998. The dissemination of social capital theory owes much to the work of Robert Putnam (1993). His particular approach however differs significantly from that elaborated in the earlier writings of Coleman (1988, 1990). This latter approach emphasises the potential benefits accruing to individuals who incorporate themselves into wider networks or groups. The former instead equates social capital with the 'civicness' of groups, associations, regions and even countries. International development agencies tend to follow Putnam's formulation (see for example World Bank 1997) notwithstanding the criticisms levelled at the theory's logical circularity (Harriss and De Renzio 1997), tautology (Portes 1998) and overselective use of historical data (Tarrow 1996, Putzel 1997). In terms of the argument to be developed in this chapter, Putnam's view is weak in two interrelated ways. First of all, it forwards a highly positivist and determinist view of culture in which actors are supposed to operate in accordance with particular norms of social convention such as 'generalised reciprocity'. Secondly, and as a consequence of the first point, the formulation does not deal adequately with issues of power (Beall 1997). I therefore tend more towards Coleman's formulation and here I use the social capital literature to explore how actors construct and manipulate relationships, under conditions of inequality, in order to strengthen their overall negotiating power (Boissevain 1974). Sen defines an exchange entitlement as 'the set of all the alternative bundles of commodities that [an agent] can acquire in exchange for what he owns" (Sen 1982: 3).
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A useful way of approaching this question is to think of actors as having `portfolios' of different resources at their disposal (Lewis and McGregor 1993). When one set of resources is either weak or insufficient, actors have to manage their portfolio and use their other resources to compensate for the weakness. The proposition which is relevant to this chapter is that under conditions where material resources are scarce or insufficient, actors will try to secure a required 'exchange entitlement' primarily through the use of their social and cultural resources. The development literature is replete with examples showing how poor people manage their resource portfolios to expand options, protect against adverse structures and processes, access decision-making authorities and make demands on the allocation of resources. Moser (1998) for example reports on strategies whereby households decide to extend their composition (lowering per capita ratios) or indeed reduce it (as is the case of those households who 'choose' to be female headed rather than male headed) in order to strengthen their chances of survival. Villareal's (1992) study of a bee keeping project in rural Mexico shows how in order to protect and further their own interests, women carefully managed their relationships with government officials and agencies. Actors however not only strategically manipulate other actors, such as household members or official representatives, to achieve particular ends, they also try to manage cultural processes and mechanisms to their advantage. Kepe (1997) illustrates this well by exploring how poor hunter households in South Africa justify their claim to hunt and work in nature reserves by referring to the ancient custom of ukujola. This custom effectively legitimises the right of these households to 'steal' from the reserve, a right that clashes with the dictates of modem legislation which forbids hunting.

Although the proposition that actors manage their different resources in a mutually reinforcing way may seem straightforward, it is nevertheless a complex and subtle process which is often impervious to the eye. In making particular decisions, actors have to consider a number of issues such as the relative costs and expected returns of each strategy, as well as both the long-term and short-term implications of using certain resources. Furthermore, strategies may be devised intuitively or after much deliberation, individually or collectively. In some cases, the very success of a particular strategy may even depend on the ability of actors to keep the underlying processes and decisions as secret as possible. Devereux's (1993) analysis of cases of acute malnutrition among households in Northern Ghana underlines the difficulties in understanding and analysing how actors manage their portfolios. In his research, Devereux discovered that households were actually 'choosing' to starve rather than adopt other more 'rational choices' such as selling their assets, reducing their household composition or even resorting to begging. These households were therefore making 'irrational choices' to minimise the depletion of certain resources because they felt that in so doing, their overall exchange entitlement would be better protected and strengthened.8 Starvation, as Devereux concluded, is not therefore always the consequence of food scarcity, but may also be a strategic response
Devereux (1993) found that faced with a situation of food deficit, households adopted different patterns of response sequencing, each of which entailed complex calculations and considerations.
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of actors to the same scarcity. From a research perspective, this insight stresses that the relation between underlying choices and processes and wider, observable strategies is a complex one. In dealing with particular situations therefore (for example, hunger or securing greater wellbeing), actors can manage their portfolios of resources in an infinite and sometimes barely visible, number of ways.

The idea that under conditions of material poverty, actors will turn more and more to their social and cultural resources is highly relevant to Bangladesh. While reflecting on the meaning of the word 'poverty' in Bangladesh, Maloney states that

[what] a Bangladeshi means by the word is to set up a relationship of inequality between himself and the person addressed in anticipation of possible patronage, or at least in a statement of the moral social order which he needs to make his relationships function. (Maloney 1988: 7, emphasis added) For the poor in Bangladesh therefore, making relationships function becomes a condition for their survival, the antithesis of amar keu ney (I have no one). It is in this context that we are likely to gain important insights into the nature of the poor-NGO relation in Bangladesh. NGOs have successfully invented themselves as effective social organisations which the poor can turn to. In response, the poor invest considerably in NGOs as a way of strengthening their survival options. In order to understand and qualify these statements however, it is important to look first at the wider social order of relations in which the poor in Bangladesh are engaged.

3. SOCIAL MODELS OF EXCHANGE

3.1 The Models of Exchange

The argument that survival is related to an actor's ability to secure effective social relationships takes us some way towards understanding why in Bangladesh there is no such thing as 'neutral games' (Jansen 1987). Every social act entails a relationship which could potentially be transformed into an important resource. One of the chief concerns of the political anthropology literature on Bangladesh has been to identify those relationships through which individuals interact with their outside world, and in so doing secure their wellbeing. I will refer to all these relationships as 'social models of exchange'. This is an amalgam of Bertocci's (1996) notion of 'models of solidarity' and Sen's (1982) idea of 'exchange entitlement'. Like Bertocci, I understand these models to be any aspect of social formation which facilitates human interaction and induces normatively patterned role behaviour. However I prefer the idea of 'models of exchange' to 'models of solidarity' because the former infers a more dynamic,

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negotiated and contested understanding of social relations. In this way, elements of cooperation as well as contradiction, solidarity and subordination may be found in these models of reciprocity.

A number of texts describe and analyse these different social models of exchange (Bertocci 1970, Jansen 1978, Kotalova 1996, D'Rozario 1998). Rather than comparing the various details of this vast literature, I will simply offer an outline of the basic social units I found in the area where I carried out my own research. Following Boissevain (1974), I start with the premise that social units are normally ego specific. 9 The primary units in which an individual is embedded refer to his or her immediate kinship relations (referred to as chi/a, khana or shongshar). This corresponds 1 to the household which is an individual's basic frame of reference, "the smallest decision making unit for production and consumption purposes' (Jansen 1987: 5, see also Lewis and McGregor 1993). Each household resides in its own house (ghor) which might come together with other similar units to form a bar! (literally 'home). Since most members of a bari are agnatically related, they normally belong to the same gusti (patrilineal family). Territorially, 11 households in close vicinity are identified as belonging to the same para (neighbourhood cluster within a village) and a number of paras together form a village or gram.

Interactions between different gusti occur through the same], a generic term used in both Bengali and other Indo Aryan languages to convey the idea of 'society' or tommunity'. 12 The samaj concerns itself with a number of mostly public activities including inter alia: important rituals marking the life cycle of all its members (births, deaths, marriages), certain religious ceremonies which require larger scale organisation such as the celebrations of religious feasts like the Eid, and arbitrating conflict between members through a traditional and informal village 'court' known as the shalish. Those who preside at the shalish are normally local influential leaders.

This whole gamut of relations constitute the important "decision making units" (Jansen 1987: 280) through which individuals, families and village groups interact with the outside world and devise their strategies for survival and wellbeing. Again, the literature is rich with examples of

9 Kotalova (1996: 37-38) uses the metaphor of an onion to show the existence of a number of social layers surrounding the individual. Bailey (1970: 35-57) organises social relations in concentric circles of moral proximity. I use the word 'correspond' very lightly here for there are difficulties in classifying social organisations in Bangladesh. For example while McGregor (1989a) found that the common term gusti had no significance in his study area, D'Rozario (1998) observed that there were multiple and competing conceptions of what gusti meant in the area where he carried out research. 11 The notions of para and gram are not fully captured in geographical or territorial boundaries since they also contain moral significance for villagers (Bertocci 1970). 12 See Jansen (1987: 86-91), Kotalova (1996: 41-42) and Bertocci (1970: 198-22) for useful descriptions of the samaj.
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how different agents, individuals through to entire villages, strategically deploy household members (Cain 1979), kinship or gusti members (lndra and Buchignani 1997) and samaj members (Bertocci 1970) to maximise their survival options. While the different models of exchange facilitate a considerable amount of co-operation between different actors, they also paradoxically exert a constraining effect on the same actors. This is primarily due to the fact that exchange relations occur between actors of unequal status and power, accentuated through class and gender differences. It is important therefore to acknowledge that actors may engage in a particular relation of exchange for any number of reasons (altruism, co-operation, bargaining, competition and exclusion), and in any one interaction interested parties may not, and often do not, share the same motivations. Even at the household level where we may expect to find a high degree of co-operation, individuals may engage with each other competitively. This observation is particularly relevant in the context of Bangladesh where as Jansen (1987) has rightly pointed out, "one's resources can best be increased at the expense of one's nearest family, with whom one is supposed to share products and property."13

Since the terms of any exchange are determined by and reflect the unequal social position of actors, it is pertinent to ask who has authoritative control over the models of exchange and how that authority is acquired. The different models of exchange (ghor-bati-gusti-para-gram-samaj) are hierarchically inclusive in the sense that samaj leaders are almost always leaders in their respective lower units. The wealthiest male heads 14 dominate the top of this vertical, pyramid like social structure and the weaker sections of society lie at the bottom. The significance of these leaders however goes beyond the immediate parameters of their respective 'pyramids' in that they also play an important role in mediating between villagers and wider socio-political networks (neighbouring villages, towns, cities, bureaucracies, local government and so on), including the state itself (Jahangir 1979, Wood 1994).

Although the above helps understand the structure of the social models of exchange, it does not explain how the actual system of exchange operates. In order to acquire this type of knowledge, we must look at the pattern and quality of relationships which are facilitated through these structures. The literature highlights two main characteristics of these relationships: patronage and factionalism.

Jansen (1987: 118ff) offers an interesting case study of two brothers who begin with equal amounts of land but whose paths quickly diverge because of the ability of one brother to use his 'resources' in a more efficient way. The wealthier brother eventually becomes patron to the poorer one. 14 Leadership positions embody gender as well as class biases.

13

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3.2 The System of Exchange

3.2.1 Patronage

The analytical value of patronage and patron-client relations is not accepted by all authors. Li Causi (1975) for example cautions against much of the nevety he perceives in patronage focused analyses arguing that theoretically the concept of patronage "does not exist other than at the ideological level" (Li Causi 1975: 92), while empirically it "probably does not exist either" (idem). In his statement, the author contends that a focus on patronage trivialises analysis since it inflates the importance of incidental aspects of the rich-poor relation such as reciprocity, morality, consensus and so on, while ignoring the more important 'non-visible, deeper, constitutive structures' which are inherently coercive, exploitative, dominating and often violent. Hence, the relationship between the rich and the poor is not one of mutual cooperation, but one "between different and opposed classes, based on economic exploitation and political domination" (idem: 92).

Two points need to be briefly stated here both in response to Li Causi's overall argument and as an introduction to the discussion which follows. First of all, Li Causi offers what surmounts to a crude and unsophisticated Marxian analysis of exploitation and domination which deploys a rather abstract, a-historical notion of class. Secondly, Li Causi's assumption that patronage does not allow researchers to study 'deeper', 'structural' levels of domination and opposition is highly misleading. In fact, the context of Bangladesh represents a case where class and patronage are not mutually exclusive realities, but mutually defining ones. This I believe is inferred in Wood's (1994) complex but incisive statement that 'vertical solidarities of the patron-client type become the form of class relations under conditions of agrarian underdevelopment in Bangladesh" (Wood 1994: 104). Class is therefore retained as an important key in understanding social relations, yet its distinguishing features are expressed primarily through mechanisms and processes of patronage. In this section, Wood's definition influences and guides my attempt to explain rural social relations in Bangladesh.

In one of the seminal works on the patron-client relation, Scott defined it as consisting of

a special type of dyadic (two persons) ties involving a largely instrumental friendship in which an individual of higher socio economic status (patron) uses his own influence and resources to provide protection or benefits, or both, for a person of a lower status (client) who, for his part, reciprocates by offering general support and assistance, including personal services, to the patron". (Scott 1972: 92)15
15

Similar definitions are offered by Breman (1974: 18) and Boissevain (1966: 18).

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From this definition two important points emerge. Firstly, the primary pattern of social exchange in the patron-client dyad is between actors of unequal socio-economic ranks. Secondly, the relationship is reciprocal and instrumental. In becoming a client, an actor gains a measure of stability in aspects of life which are critical for survival such as accessing credit, employment, protection, state services, charity and so on. It is assumed that a client cannot secure these benefits alone. By becoming a patron meanwhile, an actor can call upon and enjoy the loyalty of his clients when seeking for example cheaper labour, more favourable sharecropping arrangements, social protection, political support and so on. Like clients, patrons establish relations to secure objectives they normally can not secure alone. The system therefore operates on a do ut des principle whereby both patrons and clients somehow seek to build more predictable and stable environments. However it is important to remember that since the pattern of exchange is between unequals, the terms of engagement for both patron and client will be different and the balance of benefits will normally favour the stronger patron (Scott 1972: 93). 16 The patronage relationship therefore not only allows for the exchange of goods, services and labour, it also operates as a mechanism which reflects and reinforces the allocation of social power and status.

The definition offered by Scott however contains a serious weakness in that its emphasis lies exclusively in dyadic type relationships. In the context of Bangladesh, it is much more relevant to speak of a system of patronage 17 which "is more than just the sum total of an almost infinite number of dyadic sets" (Boissevain 1966: 24) and indicates a multiplicity of relations which overlap and intersect with each other. The 'system of patronage' permeates and fuses the models of exchange alluded to earlier. In this way, all patrons become clients to someone else and many clients are in their turn patrons to others. The 'pyramid-like social structures of exchange' are therefore both nested in bigger structures and play host to smaller ones, while the principle of giving preferential treatment in exchange for loyalty and support allows and demands continuous inter-communication and interaction.

At this point it is pertinent to ask about the dynamics underpinning the actual system of patronage. How does it work? What are its main mechanisms and principles? Since the experience of patronage differs from country to country (Boissevain 1966), I limit my discussion to insights offered by research carried out in Bangladesh and South Asia.

As already indicated, the search for security and stability lies at the heart of the patron-client relation. In the context of Bangladesh where poverty and vulnerability are pervasive, access to credit is such an important part of that struggle for security that it constitutes a necessary but not sufficient condition to establish patron-client relations (McGregor 1994: 263). In this way,

16 This is because the initial 'exchange entitlement of both patron and client differ radically. 17 This is how Breman (1974) interprets the jajmani system found in different parts of India.

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both the exercise and function of patronage is rooted firmly in the material conditions of life. Since the giving and taking of credit is a necessary but not sufficient condition, it is normally only the leaders of the various `models of exchange' (i.e. the wealthiest) who can afford to invest in supporters and followers.

Patronage however differs from other institutions such as money lending or pawnbroking which are equally rooted in the material conditions of life. Whereas moneylenders and pawnbrokers organise the exchange of a single, particular resource (i.e. economic) (Jansen 1987: 126), a patron-client relationship is by definition multi-stranded and is characterised by a number of non-stipulated demands, expectations, responsibilities and obligations which are often of a noneconomic nature (Breman 1974). In patron-client relations, negotiations on a specific transaction are always tempered by the need to secure other transactions or values. It is in the interests of both patrons and clients therefore to craft from their specific transactions a relationship which incorporates wider obligations and commitments. The following text, which discusses the significance of credit relationships in rural Bangladesh, captures this dynamic neatly.

Characteristically, when a credit relationship that will eventually end in a sale of land develops between a peasant with a surplus and one with a deficit, both parties have an interest in establishing a broader type of relationship than the purely credit relationship. The peasant who intends gradually to sell his land realises that he possesses such a scarce and valuable asset, which many well-to-do and rich people will compete to obtain, that he can demand certain favours in addition to the money he receives. Which favours he can demand depend on the value of his land and on his own political and economic position in the village society [...]. For his part, the well-to-do man who is supplying credit can demand that the poor household that receives credit shall support him `politically' and take his side in issues and cases which are brought up in the village." (Jansen 1987: 126) Patronage therefore entails a form of social investment in which both patron and client place themselves in a relation of inter-dependence which, for as long as it is suitable, desirable or possible, is broad based and open ended. It is because patron-client relations are `open' and Interlinked' that they can offer stability and predictability. There is no long-term security for a client and no long-term returns for a patron if a debt from a credit transaction is for example immediately repaid or satisfied. Ideally then what happens is that from a single stranded economic transaction, both patrons and clients try to build multi stranded relationships. As the `economic' relation slips into a `social' one, the actors involved may even create a fictive kinship bond with each other.18

F i ctive Fiive relations can be created between people from different classes, gender, castes, religions and even nationalities (Sarker 1980, Mashreque 1986, Mashreque and Amin 1993). Interestingly, White (1991) also reports the use of fictive terms between NGO members and staff.

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3.2.2 Factionalism

The exercise of patronage is one of the fundamental factors used to explain the emergence and formation of a second theme consistently found in the political anthropology literature: factionalism. Village elites therefore manipulate their kinship and patronage ties to cause vertical splitting within communities and thus, strengthen their leadership claims. There is an established academic tradition focusing on South Asia which highlights the importance of factions in the social organisation of rural communities (Nicholas 1963, 1966, Bailey 1959, 1970, Bertocci 1970, Alavi 1973, Breman 1974, Wood 1994). This literature highlights three basic characteristics of factions. First of all, factions are vertical solidarities which are internally organised along hierarchical lines. Factional leaders are normally patrons who organise their dependent clients in a political way to achieve particular outcomes (Breman 1974). Secondly, factions are normally equivalent opposites of solidarities. In other words, they represent structurally similar or segmentary configurations (Alavi 1973). Thirdly, factions are essentially social groups in conflict or competition for social power and material resources (Nicholas 1966).

In my research area, I came across two expressions which helped me understand how these factions are perceived and lived by people themselves. A faction is first of all normally referred to as a do! (a term equally applicable to group or a gang) and it implies the idea of competition or rivalry with other similar dols. The dol is usually identifiable by the leader's name, hence a faction led by Abdul will be called 'Abduler dor. Secondly, members of a particular dol are referred to as people `belonging to' the leader, hence those associated with Abdul's dol are often simply called 'Abduler lok' (literally Abdul's people).

The logic of factionalism demands that leaders recruit as many members as possible since power and security is drawn from the size of a faction. Recruitment occurs through the links a patron or his immediate followers 19 establish through samajes, gustis, friendship or the exercise of patronage. Faction leaders require power to compete with other similarly organised factions for influence or control over material as well as non-material resources. Strictly speaking therefore factional conflicts are conflicts between patrons (Breman 1974), and clients stand to benefit only if their respective patrons win their conflicts and allow some of the newly acquired benefits to trickle down. By mustering support, factions render social environments more predictable and allow members to compete for and secure important resources. This point, made forcibly by Nicholas (1966), is confirmed by researchers in Bangladesh who have noted how factional organisations have been instrumental in resolving questions ranging from access to new resources such as tubewells (Jansen 1987: 253-260), control over institutions such as

19 Bailey (1970) distinguishes 'core allies' from 'followers' in factional settings. The core allies are a more permanent group who tend to have stronger and more moral ties with the faction leader. 93

co-operatives (Bertocci 1970: 157-162) or banks (McGregor 1989b), and local and national political election outcomes (Jahangir 1979: 151-160).

Both patronage and factionalism therefore reinforce a vertically aligned, hierarchically structured and interdependent system which both reflects and reinforces unequal social positions accentuated by class and gender differences. However, this system is not static, rigid and unchanging, 2 but actually fluid, dynamic and evolving. Two main reasons support this statement.

First of all, as I mentioned earlier, factions are highly adept and responsive to situations of change and competition. A good example is offered by McGregor (1989a) in his case study of Khotkhot in the district of Tangail. The author analysed the rise to prominence of a younger and newer faction, the dol of lchoto Gee in a village which had been dominated by a rival faction led by tom Gafur'. Besides his own wealth and political acumen, boro Gafur had used his control of an artisan committee to continually increase the number of his followers and protect his own position in the village. Part of the rival dot's strategy consisted therefore of destroying this power base and building up its own membership. McGregor observed that the ability of the younger faction to control or establish connections with the IRDP, a credit programme and a national NGO, enabled choto Gafur's faction to extend its reach and become the dominant faction within the village. Rather than see factions and patronage therefore as characteristics of a static system resistant to change, I would argue that their very existence signals situations of ongoing competition and transformation.

There is however a second reason why the systems of factions and patronage continually evolve and reinvent themselves. Although the relationship between patron and client, leader and follower is one in which both parties seek stability and security over time, it is nevertheless ultimately up to the poor themselves to seek and mobilise those relationships which offer greatest (i.e. secure and stable) benefits. The need to survive places this obligation on the poor. Running counter to the notion that the poor in Bangladesh are fatalistic, Maloney (1988) argues that they are in fact 'pragmatic individualists' in that they are expected to maximise whatever opportunities they find in social relations, institutions and even ideologies in order to

20 Dumont's (1980) highly influential work Homo Hierarchicus offers a static, abstract interpretation of social order in the Indian subcontinent. In this work, Dumont argues that divisions, verticalities and hierarchies complement each other (via the principle of the 'encompassment of opposites') in a balanced way. This is a highly functionalist account of social organisation. In my view, hierarchy, verticality and dependence are not 'necessary complementaries', but the structural forms which the ongoing competition for resources and the struggle to capture power, assume.

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survive (Maloney 1988: 51). 21 Since client status is therefore not guaranteed in perpetuity and since it is up to individuals to calculate and strategically manage their own positions, systems based on patronage and factional forms of organisation are prone to change in that their terms have to be negotiated and contracted over time.

4. ORGANISING THE POOR

Early studies into rural poverty in Bangladesh were quick to point out that the social models of exchange were organised in such a way that those with most power controlled whatever advantages the poor gained in terms of accessing, participating and controlling important social, political and economic structures (Bertocci 1970, Jahangir 1979, Jansen 1987, Wood 1994). Even if the terms of exchange allowed the poor to accrue certain benefits, most researchers acknowledged that a significant part of the 'development predicament' of the poor was that they were entrapped in socio-political nets (BRAC 1983) or chains (Kramsjo and Wood 1992) which overpowered and exploited them. Not surprisingly therefore, these same authors endorsed the idea that a significant part of the solution for the poor lay in creating new forms of organisation which would allow them to pursue further their own interests.

While most researchers endorsed the creation of new forms of organisation for the poor, few explained why it was such a necessary strategy. Wood (1994) in this regard is an exception. He argued that since the wealthier and powerful maintained their dominance of the rural landscape through the mechanism of patronage, there was no need for them to act in a unified manner: "the factors of cohesion and solidarity are not therefore so important in determining the objective nature of their class behaviour" (Wood 1994: 97). The fact that the rural landscape could accommodate the co-existence of many patrons with their respective groups and that direct competition between factions occurred only over limited and specific events (Jansen 1987: 149) meant that the status quo was never really threatened. By contrast, the poor had to oppose and overturn the system in order to improve their position since it was inherently biased against them. To change the system however, the factors of cohesion and solidarity are crucial for "if you are in a subordinate oppressed position in a mode of production, it is logically impossible to behave in favour of your objective class interest as an individual since you have to change the status quo rather than merely adhere to it" (Wood 1994: 97, original emphasis). The fact that the wealthy and poor occupy different positions within the hierarchy of patronage
21

The argument that people in Bangladesh are fatalistic is often explained with reference to the idea of

takdir (i.e. that Allah predestines every individual's life). However Bertocci (1996) draws our attention to the equally important notion of tadbir which states that all individuals must strive to realise their full potential in life. In this sense, tadbir comes close to Maloney's 'pragmatic individualists' description

outlined above. Interesting for our discussion is the statement by Bertocci that the "ability to mobilise other persons in the achievement of one's ends, as well as to establish social ties to the powerful can be instrumental [...] to the realization of tadbir" (Bertocci 1996: 24).

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and factionalism means that normally, organisational unity is a luxury for those who do not want to change the system but an imperative for those who do.

The idea that the poor might benefit more if they were organised in a different way is however not a new one, for as McGregor's (1998) ongoing study into debt and indebtedness in South Asia points out, the British colonial administration was towards the end of the

le century

already looking at very similar ideas. This is demonstrated in Malcolm Darling's The Punjab Peasant in Prosperity and Debt, a book written in 1925 on the problematic of rural indebtedness. Darling dedicates a full chapter to outlining the benefits the poor could obtain through co-operation and better organisation. Co-operation was seen not only as an effective means of reducing debt (the main focus of the book), but also of nurturing business opportunities, improving farming techniques, and educating towards a better life style 22 (Darling 1947: 228-245). Darling therefore was convinced that co-operation and organisation "meant little less than a revolution; not the kind that ends in licence, bloodshed, and chaos, but the kind that develops energy, straight dealing, and self reliance" (Darling 1947: 230).

This insistence on the advantages of co-operation and organisation for the poor has been a central component in subsequent development thinking and interventions. While the language may have changed, the general themes and stresses remain the same: the poor can obtain important returns on scale and unity. In the years immediately following Independence, the weight of expectation was great and analysts were busy writing and speaking of imminent revolutions and radical change. A good example of this can be seen in Jahangir's (1979) study of two villages near Dhaka. There he found that the peasants were being organised by the Krisak Samity (a left wing peasant organisation) and argued that this new form of organisation fundamentally differed from factionalism in that it was based on "horizontal cleavages" and "a desire to radically restructure society" (Jahangir 1979: 157). The author examined cases of how the poor, encouraged by the Krisak Samity, successfully articulated and defended their rights before wealthier and more powerful local leaders (Jahangir 1979: 215-238), and how they nurtured leaders from within their own class based groups (Jahangir 1979: 266-271). Reflecting very much the mood of the time, Jahangir uses the last sentence of his book to warn the reader of an imminent class-based 'revolution of sorts' in which future political struggles and outcomes would be resolved by the new 'organisations of the poor' he had come across.

In this way, the process of differentiation expands the potential area of tension and dissatisfaction, and gives shape to the forms and intensity of political confrontation at both village and national level. (Jahangir 1979: 291)

22 A better life style meant reducing certain excesses such as drinking, gambling and expenditures at marriages and funerals; as well as introducing changes such as founding new 'pro-poor' arbitration structures (Darling 1947: 241-242).

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In chapter two, I argued that part of the NGO history in Bangladesh is one in which they assume the mantle of this pro-poor revolution. However, NGOs bring together two characteristics which make them different from earlier institutional attempts such as the Comilla project or the Krisak Samity. On the one hand, NGOs have created a larger membership base than other pro-poor institutions. In chapter two, I looked at various reasons why they were so successful in creating such a quantitatively significant membership base. On the other hand, NGOs have assumed a clear corporate identity with stable structures which can be recognised and reproduced over time. 23 Members can therefore be mobilised for specific purposes or issues against other social units, corporations or institutions. This characteristic, which the second part of the thesis explores in more depth, contrasts with Jansen's (1987) finding and argument that the predominance of patron alliances and factional organisations prevented the emergence of any large, lasting and significant corporate units in the rural areas he studied (Jansen 1987: 29). Taken together, these two points infer that in NGOs we have the first corporate pro-poor organisation 'of the poor' with arguably the largest known and stable membership base in Bangladesh. At this point, two questions emerge. First of all, what kind of relationships do these new organisational forms induce? Secondly, to what extent are these relationships different from the relationships of dependence, hierarchy and exploitation shaped by traditional units of social exchange?

5. NGOs AND PATRONAGE: A TROUBLED RELATIONSHIP

There seems little doubt that in the early 1970s, NGOs adopted radical philosophies and strategies aimed at provoking structural social changes in favour of the poor. This is revealed among other things in the types of names adopted by some of the nascent NG0s, such as: Nijera Kori (translated as 'we do it ourselves), ASA (translated as 'hope') and PROSHIKA (an amalgamation of proshikhon, shikkha and kaj meaning training, education and action respectively). Meanwhile other 'more established' NGOs such as BRAC, CARITAS and RDRS were swiftly moving their development focus from relief and rehabilitation to more radical strategies of group formation and mobilisation. All these early NGO initiatives, influenced by dependency theories and structuralist analysis (see chapter one, section 4), emphasised the need to build internal solidarity among the poor in order to mobilise and create an alternative and less exploitative system (BRAC 1983). The following text, taken from Chen (1986), is a frank and unambiguous account explaining the motivations and objectives behind the NGO commitment to build an alternative social system with and for the poor. The task of organising the poor derives thus from a philosophy confirming:

This is further justification for the idea, explored in chapter two, that it is legitimate to speak of an 'NGO community in Bangladesh.

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that individual behavior does not occur in a vacuum but in the context of a series of relationships;

that to change an individual's behavior in any permanent sense one must change that series of relationships;

that if the group is to be the key instrument of change for the poor, the group must prove a viable counter-institution to those earlier relationships;

that the group must, therefore provide at a minimum what the previous relationship offered individual members (varying degrees of security, resources, employment and power);

that a strength of unity among the members will develop to the degree the group is perceived to provide security, resources, employment and power,

that the concerted strength of an individual group can provide the degree of power required in, for example, a successful settlement of a domestic dispute but only the concerted strength of many groups can provide the broad base of power required in, for example, the negotiation of favourable wage rates or sharecropping terms (Chen 1986: 16)

This development approach initially brought important 'victories' to the poor. Hence we have case studies of NGO-led organisations securing khas resources (Chowdhury 1989), resisting exploitation by the rich (BRAC 1983), defending the dignity and rights of women (Chen 1986) and negotiating improved wages and working conditions (Kramso and Wood 1992). Struggles like these often entailed prolonged and violent confrontation with elite-led groups and success was often attributed to the ability of the poor to remain united and steadfast. It is therefore not surprising to discover that members of these first samities were taking secret oaths among themselves and swearing allegiance to The cause' (Rutherford 1995: 58).

However there was a certain amount of naivety in much of this early research. It was presumed for example that the commitment of NGOs to creating an alternative system along the lines described by Chen (1986) was not just a rhetorical or formal one, but a real one. Furthermore, it was taken for granted that the NGO-poor relation reflected a qualitatively different kind of relation, one defined by principles of solidarity, equality, participation and self-reliance. Both of these assumptions were however problematic and anticipated in some way, the modem tendency to treat NGOs as if they occupy a moral high ground, detached from the vices of their surrounding socio-political contexts (White 1991, Wood 1994). Protected by the fortress of the moral high ground then, there was never any question that the NGO-poor relation might share some of the traits associated with traditional patronage-factional relations, for the former defined itself as the antithesis of the latter. If however, the discussion is removed from the moral high ground, a number of interesting questions can be identified which are relevant for our discussion.

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First of all, many of the NGO success stories for example recount cases where either the NGOs or their members take over processes, functions and roles that were traditionally controlled by local power elites. Examples of this can be found in the way NGOs successfully managed to give credit (Chowdhury 1989), provide employment and income generating activities (Lewis 1993), promote the participation of poor people in local arbitration processes (Costa 1997) and even contest local elections as an organised group (Mustafa 1986). In these instances, NGOs have not so much created an alternative system as they have become members of an already established club.

Secondly, while there is some evidence that initially NGOs successfully targeted the poor and prevented the elite from controlling their groups, 24 this does not mean that the distribution of power within groups was symmetrical and non-hierarchical. Recent findings by D'Rozario (1998) confirm that factors such as education, land holding and employment status play an important part in determining the group leadership of NGO samities. These criteria are the same ones which structure the distribution of power in wider society.

As I explained earlier, the need to construct relations of dependence is a pragmatic imperative for the poor in Bangladesh, not an optional choice. Thus, although NGOs enabled poor people to move from oppressive systems of patronage, it was not in the interests of the members themselves to be without some sort of patron. NGOs assumed some of the more visible patron roles. In fact, it is quite common even today to hear people identify themselves or others with phrases such as BRACer lok, PROSHIKAr lok or CARITASer /k.25

The above mentioned points are not to be taken as definitive statements of a watertight argument but as a set of indicators which might open a discussion rather than conclude one. They are therefore intended to take us beyond the generality implicit in many of the arguments which perceive NGOs a priori as egalitarian institutions that are polar opposites of traditional institutions with their patterns of domination and exploitation. The 'horizontal-participatorycooperative' and 'vertical-hierarchical-dependent' divide therefore becomes a hypothesis to be tested rather than an unquestionable assumption.

D'Rozario's (1998) recent investigation into CARITAS apex federation groups in the North West of Bangladesh adopted a similar line of reasoning. One of the questions he poses in his research is the extent to which the apex groups constitute a new and alternative structure to the traditional and prevalent social forms of organisation in rural Bangladesh. His thesis argues that a new structure is indeed created through the apex bodies but that it embodies elements of
Now however in some cases NGOs openly admit that it is both necessary and good to recruit nonpoor members (Buckland 1998), while NGO members themselves may not necessarily disapprove the inclusion of these non-poor members (White 1991). 25 As I explained earlier, lok means people so that BRACer lok means a person belonging to BRAC. This is the same expression used to identify which faction a person belongs to.
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both NGO induced values, as well as values from the more traditional power structures. D'Rozario found that in this unintended new structure, local NGO staff had come to assume the characteristics of traditional patrons. This is a significant statement reinforcing a growing concern and interest in the possibility that NGOs in their new roles, may assume traits and mechanisms of traditional patrons (McGregor 1989a, Hashemi 1990, White 1991, Wood 1994). One of the core aims of this thesis is to offer further field level analysis of this particular perspective.

6. IS BIGGER BETTER?

The chapter began by listening to an account of how a woman in Bangladesh understood poverty and wellbeing. To 'have no-one' (amar keu ney) reflected a state of helplessness while to 'have someone' (amar keu ache) offered some form of security and wellbeing. Given the pervasiveness and importance of patronage and factional models in Bangladesh, observers should be therefore aware that poorer clients may themselves not be as worried that their NGOs operate as patrons if this helps them render their environments more secure and predictable.

At the same time, it is useful to remember that there is no inherent commitment in theories of resources, networks or social capital to the idea that the institutions or relationships people strategically use can only be of a particular kind. Wood's (1998) notion of 'adverse incorporation' is useful here for it alerts us to the possibility that the poor may use hierarchical and dependent relations in order to pursue specific objectives. 26 Current research on urban livelihoods in Bangladesh (Khan 1998) for example is looking at the extent to which mastan structures, 27 generally recognised as dysfunctional, criminal and constraining, are performing key functions in linking socially deprived slum dwellers with important livelihood possibilities (ranging from shelter to food security). This draws our attention, contra Putnam, 28 to the possibility that in certain contexts vertical solidarities may be just as important and effective social models of exchange as horizontal solidarities. This is not intended as a statement of moral approval for such relationships, but simply as a tentative conclusion which stems from a series of questions about 'what do people do' with their contexts, rather than the more standard

26 It is useful to distinguish 'adverse incorporation' from Portes' (1998) idea of 'negative social capital'. The latter draws attention to the possibility that 'desirable means' may produce 'less desirable ends'. In this sense, social capital has its 'dark side' (Putzel 1997). My understanding of the notion of adverse incorporation is that it focuses instead on the idea that 'less desirable means' may produce 'desirable ends'.
27

Mastan refers to muscle men who operate as mafia type gangs.

Putnam argued that vertical solidarities no matter how dense and no matter how important to its participants, cannot sustain social trust and co-operation" (Putnam 1993: 174).

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question of 'how are poor people constrained' (Wood 1998: 5). Both questions may of course be asked, but the emphasis of this chapter, provoked by the amar keu ache and amar keu ney distinction, has been on what people do with and think of 'models of exchange' like NG0s.

At the end of the previous two chapters, I engaged intuitively with aspects of the NGO scalingup debate. An important dimension of this debate is that NGOs have come to specialise in the 'new orthodoxy' of micro enterprise and credit provision (Fernando 1997, HuIme and Edwards 1997a) in order to become more sustainable and self-reliant. Although this process affects NGOs globally, some authors claim that it reaches a particularly clear definition in Bangladesh (Montgomery, Battacharya and Hulme 1996). Recent research carried out by D'Rozario (1998) seems to confirm this observation. In analysing 10 NGO groups in three different unions, he found that the question of loans completely dominated the groups' agendas and that social development activities did not exist at all (D'Rozario 1998: 238). The implications and opportunities this process opens for NGOs themselves have already been explored in chapters one and two respectively. Here instead I want to briefly look at the other side of the NGO-poor relation and ask how the same process might be perceived or experienced by the poor.

In an important piece of research, Fernando (1997) noted how NGOs in his study area were being 'restructured' in order to improve their professionalism and organisational selfsufficiency. In practice this meant that NGOs were giving greater emphasis to micro-credit programmes for women, while de-emphasising other forms of social development and intervention (Fernando 1997: 165). To explore the wider implications of this change, Fernando analysed the nature of the relation between workers and members at the field level. He found that local NGO staff were being increasingly asked to manage and improve quantifiable aspects of NGO performance; namely, the credit operations of the group members (idem 167). The pressure to establish new groups and impose credit discipline on older ones was such that staff, deliberately recruited from outside, inevitably sought the support, protection and advice of village local elites. According to Fernando, these contacts explain why the leadership of the NGO groups was controlled by elite family members.29

Fernando uses this and other evidence to build the argument that the process of NGO restructuring entails more pronounced accommodation and reconciliation between NGOs and elite institutions. In fact, although there were 12 NGOs in the area where he carried out research, 3 there was no evidence to suggest that the activities of other credit giving institutions, such as friends, relatives, other households or even moneylenders had diminished at all. Furthermore, despite the fact that NGOs were offering relatively small amounts of credit

For example 7 of 12 NGO leaders came from families who were known moneylenders (Fernando 1997: 169). 3 His research area was in Tangail, one of the 'NGO capitals' of Bangladesh.

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compared to these other sources, 31 the discipline they demanded was much greater and far stricter. This was found to be a cause of concern for NGO members. While the poor therefore tended to place greater emphasis on "the flexibility of the loan repayment and the additional benefits that accrue from various sources of borrowing" (Fernando 1997: 172), NGOs were instead pursuing a narrower agenda of credit transaction to enhance overall organisational efficiency. Fernando argues that the pressure of restructuring was effectively exacerbating the tensions and contradictions present in these opposing views on the value of credit.

It is not easy to present a series of hypotheses on what might be the eventual reaction of the poor to these processes of restructuring or convergence. While there is an obvious appeal in the argument that through restructuring, NGO supply comes to shape more and more the demands of its members (Hulme and Edwards 1997a: 9), the fact that the poor openly question the changes that NGOs introduce perhaps indicates that there might be limits as to how far supply can control and shape demand. As this chapter has emphasised, loyalty has its price.

While I was carrying out my own fieldwork, I heard of a particular incident involving one of the country's most prominent NG0s. Back in the village where I was staying, I decided one night to recount the story to some of the NGO male members since I wanted to find out their reaction to the incident. The story can be reconstructed in these terms:

A particular NGO had given loans to different groups and sought repayment on these. While most of the groups did repay on time, the majority of members in one particular group did not repay in full. The NGO involved had an established record in credit giving and initially sought to redress the situation by encouraging respective NGO village, union and thana co-ordination committees to apply peer pressure on the defaulting members.32 When this strategy failed the NGO decided to initiate legal proceedings against the defaulting members. One day, the local police arrested 4 of the defaulters but unfortunately on the way to the police station, the vehicle carrying the police and NGO members was involved in a road accident and as a result, some of the members were killed. This provoked the anger of local people including the NGO members themselves. They all gathered around the scene of the accident and marched from there towards the NGO office shouting anti-NGO slogans and inciting more and more people to join them. When they arrived at the office, they completely destroyed the building. The NGO staff had already fled and no-one (including the NGO members) tried to either stop the procession or protect the property of the NGO. Since the incident had received coverage in the national press, I asked different NGO leaders in Dhaka to tell me what they thought had happened that day. I was inevitably offered one or both of the following two explanations. First of all, the procession had been provoked by a number of elite opponents to the NGO who used the accident to basically 'settle old

Fernando claims that households received only 10% of their credit from NGOs (Fernando 1997: 170). This is consistent with McGregor's statement that "as much as 70 percent of informal lending is reported as being between friends, neighbours and relations" (McGregor 1994: 269-270). Peer pressure is the traditional 'NGO way' of 'disciplining' the giving and taking of credit. Contrary to conventional ideas, peer pressure is highly regulative and can be quite aggressive (Fernando 1997).
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accounts'. 33 Secondly, in seeking repayment on a loan, the NGO had acted properly, justly and lawfully and had they not done so, there was a risk that other samity groups would simply follow the example of the defaulters.' Note however that in both explanations, the NGO is acquitted of any serious responsibility and is even portrayed as defending a transparent, accountable and just system of credit giving and taking. My intention here is not to analyse these explanations any further but to show, pace Fernando, how the current new credit-centred orthodoxy might be laying bare contrasting or even incompatible views about how NGOs and their members see each other. The 'explanation' of one of the NGO members who listened to my story that night highlights this well. When asked to comment on the story he replied:

Of course the poor were wrong (bhul koreche) in destroying property in that way and of course the local touts have taken advantage of the situation to tell the poor that the NGO worked against rather than in favour of their wellbeing. But even if the poor were wrong or if they were wrongly influenced, they did not act unjustly (onnay koren ni). If our NGO here tried to put that kind of pressure on us to repay loans, I am sure many of us would do the same. are not supposed to be banks or touts and yet most of them are only interested in collecting money and giving out loans. They are becoming worse than banks or touts. When that happens, poor people won't care about the NGO and will start leaving the samities because they are looking for something else besides loans. In this perspective, the NGO had not acted wrongly (bhul), but unjustly (onnay). All those taking part in the conversation that night agreed that the decision to initiate court proceedings over the question of a loan was unnecessary and heavy handed (kora) and if the NGO had been more flexible, it could easily have found another way of solving the problem. Interestingly in Femando's (1997) research, he found that the main source of members' grievance against NGOs was also their lack of flexibility in credit giving and taking. I was not able to find other documented cases of the poor openly rebelling or protesting against their NGOs while carrying out fieldwork in Bangladesh, although Rutherford (1995: 158) reports two cases of NGO members' dissent. In one, members refused to attend meetings in protest against the NGO's policy to charge group funds 5% of any loans taken by members. In the other, staff of an NGO admitted that their members were reacting negatively to their high interest rates either by deserting the organisation or refusing to take loans.

Rutherford interprets these 'protests' as signs of the increasing confidence of NGO members and their willingness to "play a much less submissive role with their NGO sirs" (Rutherford (1995: 158). This may be true, but the analysis needs to go further. The argument of this

33 The particular NGO had been involved in the 1996 voter education and democracy mobilisation programmes outlined in chapter two and so there were local political activists unhappy at not having been offered the political support of the NGO. 34 One NGO leader put it this way: 'our country is full of loan defaulters and this only encourages corruption, nepotism and indiscipline. We NGOs believe in a different system." 35 Eight NGO members were present and no-one disagreed with this comment.

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chapter has been that for many of the poor, NGOs are a key part of the "moral social order" (Maloney 1988: 7) needed to devise better and more stable coping mechanisms and survival strategies. In other words, NGOs have become an important part of the 'resource portfolio' used by the poor in their struggle to deal with poverty. The process of restructuring NGOs which is inherent to the scaling-up debate and the search for organisational sustainability, is straining, intentionally or otherwise, the relationship between NGOs and their members.

Contrary to many of the ideas present in the research literature however, the most important source of tension is not that credit has become the centre of the NGO-poor relationship (credit has always been a necessary but not sufficient condition for patronage), but that the social content of the same relationship has been removed. In McGregor's (1998) terms, the relation has been effectively `de-moralised'. To the extent therefore that NGOs move towards a narrow, rigid and single-stranded 'credit-based' relationship, their significance as 'social resources' is weakened. If poor actors then feel that what is being offered no longer favours their survival possibilities, it is reasonable to presume that they will either `protest' or may even begin to look for other forms of secure and stable solidarities where they can invest their loyalty. I wish to end this chapter with yet another statement on how poor people experience or see NG0s. While comparing people's perceptions of NGOs and other institutions, specifically the institution of moneylenders, Fernando noted that:

money lenders are considered by the villagers to be more flexible with respect to negotiating the terms and conditions of loans, and they are more responsive to the needs of the people. (Fernando 1997: 172, emphasis added) This concluding statement is controversial and provocative, but highly pertinent to our discussion. It drives at the very raison d'etre of NGOs in that it directly challenges the idea that they are more responsive to the needs of the poor. It warns us of an aspect which the scalingup debate has overlooked: what is sustainable and efficient in the eyes of an NGO, may not be sustainable or efficient in the eyes of its members.

7. CONCLUSION

This chapter has been guided by the question of how poor people `experience' or perceive NGOs and how they use these organisations in their struggle against poverty. The incentive for undertaking such a task was provided by Bertocci's (1970) finding that villagers had a completely different understanding of the significance of the notion Village' to the one provided or anticipated by anthropological categories. How the poor perceive NGOs is therefore an important key to understanding their significance.

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In the chapter I use the idea of `resource profiles' to argue that in the context of scarce material resources, the poor turn to and use their social resources for support and protection. Traditionally in Bangladesh, these social resources ranged from close family networks to more 'distant' village patrons. These networks underpin a pervasive system of patron-clientelism in which clients are expected to pledge loyalty to those patrons and benefactors who come to their aid. This system reflects and reinforces prevalent patterns of social power and dominance since clients acquire an important support mechanism, the terms of exchange normally favour the patron.

I also indicate that within this institutional landscape, NGOs have emerged as key actors with a set of characteristics which are unique in comparison with the more traditional forms of support. First of all, they have secured a membership base which is unparalleled in Bangladesh. Secondly, they have assumed a clear corporate identity which can be reproduced over time. Thirdly, they claim to promote an egalitarian ideology consisting of a set of relationships which contrasts with and seeks to overturn the dependent, oppressive and hierarchical relationships associated with traditional forms of security. However the chapter also raises, without answering, the question that to the extent that NGOs offer forms of social protection, they in actual fact resemble and assume functions and roles associated traditionally with patrons. In their new roles, NGOs become patrons to the poor.

There are obligations, responsibilities and expectations inherent in the NGO-poor relation. The chapter ends by reflecting on the possible effects the global restructuring of NGOs has had on the quality of this relationship. It was suggested that the movement towards single-stranded, credit-based interventions seems to absolve NGOs from the very obligations and commitments the poor consider fundamental to the relationship: reciprocity, flexibility and predictability. It might not be easy for NGOs therefore to pursue their goals of efficiency and sustainability without members feeling that the terms of the relationship are not being honoured. In this case, the poor may feel justified or indeed obliged to look for and invest their loyalties in a better and more 'efficient' patron.

I have offered three different perspectives on the NGO phenomenon: a global (chapter one), national (chapter two) and local one (chapter three). Even if all the information provided by these perspectives is not always consistent, I generally consider them complementary in that each provides a particular slant on what is an increasingly complex and sophisticated institutional form. In the chapter which follows, I will be discussing the methodological and epistemological underpinnings of my research. These were elaborated over time as my engagement with and exposure to these three perspectives increased.

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CHAPTER FOUR

EPISTEMOLOGY AND METHODOLOGY

1. INTRODUCTION

Diary - Ayrir 28, 1997

TOday I attencthd a meeting between representatives of a_funding agency and an .ArGO. There -were eight men at the meeting: three high ranking staff members of the lacaC3VG0, one representative of a national-intermediary funding NCO, one representative of a major internationalfunding agency in Bangladesh, one incthpencthnt ccmsuCtant andtwo NGO Candss members. The interruztionaCfunding agency was promoting a democracy and - civil society programme in Bangauthsh and the natioruzi- intermediary NCO was chargedwith supervising its impthmentation. The meeting had - been arranged because the international agency was, at the request of their 3-(e ad; Office abroad; in the process of com_piCing data in orcthr to compile an averaa Banglacthsh country report. The 3-lead Office had cthvised a standard reporting format which -wouCd enable them in turn, to make cross national-comparisons. Each of the participants had brought something to the meeting: the interruzticmatfuncthrs had the questionnaire cthvised by the 3-lead -Office, the national intermediary NCO had summaries of their own ongoing evaluation of the programme's first phase, the lacaCisIg0 had an up-to-date report with relevant case-studies. The NCO members had been invited to explain, if necessary, how the poor were benefiting from the programme. 'Unfortunately, the standardformat of the 3-lead' Office didnot perfectly match the format used by the nationaC3VG0 in its previous evaCuations or with the one used- by the lacaC3VG0 to complete its up-to-clate report. TO get the different evaCuations to fit, the participants therefore had' to translate or modify the information they had brought. It allresembthd a game of chinese whispers. So for example, the fu2n4"written case studies of the lacaC3VG0 -were discussed and
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with the hefp of the consultant, were awarcthd a numerical-value which was then recarcthd in the tabths of the nationa.l.NGO's evalliationfarm. These were again discussedso that the international donor coukt give another numerical value which was compatibth with the 3-lead; Office's questionnaire. The process was a slaw and complicated one and at times, the participants simply got Cost in transferring experiences and evaluaticms from one questionnaire format to another. Luckily aff - those present a6a managed to see the funny side of-what was happening. Immediately after the cthparture of the visitors, I spoke to the thcaC.TIGO Director about the day's events. "We work well here" he said; "but in order to continue our work we needsupport and in order to get support, we have to be able to show we are good We are often sent reports and questionnaires to fill in. Sometimes they are co-m_plicated because they have new word, kthas, or concepts. I wouldrather cth without them, but
I

have no choke but to cth them.

Most of the visitors today know us well anc CI think it all went well But whoever reaca the finaCreport in the 3-fead Office will -not really untrstand what goes an. here. One of the questions for example asked about the level of commitment of the members. The response given was 'high'. "What does that mean? Aminuri has been in _prison about 7 times because he belongs to our samity, he has been threatened hundred. of times and his house has been burnt down at least twice. It is not fair just to say 'high', it is not even fair to ask the question, in the first place. That night I was speaking to Aminur.
I

asked him about donors coming to visit

I

the village and the .NGO. 31e replied "I am usually called to meetings -when donors arrive. /./suaffy I cth not have to speak, although I have many things landless put a lot of effort into this project but cthnors don't see that. They came, stay afew days and then go away with pieces ofpa_per with different numbers on them. When their bosses abroad read these numbers, they won't
1 One of the two NGO members present at the meeting. 108

would like to say. . i just have to be there. -What was the point of today? 51.ff-the

know who we are, where we stay, -what we have been cthing over the years, wilithey? It is crazy.

Social science research is an inherently complicated and intense process in which a variety of human, psychological, cultural, political as well as scientific dimensions come together. For this reason, research handbooks tend to cover a wide variety of topics ranging from research ethics to the 'nitty-gritty' questions of arranging travel, advising on eating habits, clothing and so on. While both comprehensive and detailed, there is however a sense that even the best intentioned research course or book cannot fully prepare the researcher for the task he or she is about to undertake. Howes (1981) likened his attempt to write on his own experience of dealing with the research process as an act of confession. I am tempted to follow a similar approach, except that the word 'confession' sounds too apologetic. In this chapter, I want to explicitly acknowledge the highly fragmented, often contradictory and inevitably difficult nature of my research process. In doing so, my intention is to strengthen not weaken the interpretation and understanding of events I eventually wish to communicate.

My overall research objective is to provide a detailed and in-depth analysis of a particular reality which, as the opening chapters indicate, covers almost 30 years of history (chapter two), and is impregnated with rich global (chapter one) and local (chapter three) significances. Analysis is essentially about simplification and the task of analysing the phenomenon I have identified is not an easy one. The opening scene of the chapter in this sense is instructive. There were different interests present at the meeting and each had a distinct perspective on the programme being discussed. In the end however, a single numerical value was asked to carry the weight of years of history, experience and struggle. Reality almost seemed to be trivialised:

-When their bosses abroadread these numbers, they won't know who we are, where we stay, -what -we have been cthing over the years, will- they? It is crazy.
This chapter attempts to explain how I tried to simplify a very complex reality. There are a number of sections in this chapter. Each is like a building block and the chapter attempts to give an overview of why I chose these blocks and how I put them together. As the headings of each section indicate, emphasis is placed on the idea of negotiating different themes, contexts and situations. This is to convey the idea that from the outset this research has had multiple subjects and co-authors and that the research has never really been only and exclusively mine. The chapter will introduce these subjects and co-authors.

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2. NEGOTIATING 'PROCESS'

There is no shortage of articles, books, seminar papers and even theses on NG0s. However there are at least two aspects of this research literature which I feel need to be closely looked at. First of all, much of the NGO research is predominantly donor driven and led. Clarke (1995) has made this general point2 and further argued that this dominance has meant that research has tended to focus, from an almost exclusively functionalist perspective, on the socioeconomic functions of NG0s, while overlooking other dimensions such as their political functions. Secondly, much of the NGO research generally follows a programmatic focused line of enquiry. There is therefore a plethora of material evaluating particular programmes or projects carried out by NGOs and these are either used as frameworks or references for wider studies and research.

Perhaps the most serious implication of these two points is that a body of literature emerges which is 'product oriented' rather than 'process orientated' (Riddell and Robinson 1995). This implies that the literature contributes to and sanctions the reduction of what are complex realities to an over-simplified, project-focussed analysis - a process which Marsden (1990) has neatly described as `context stripping'. As he himself writes:

[the] provision of concrete data which abstract and simplify complex reality supposedly satisfies the demands for objectivity and measurement, and justifies involvement or disengagement in development activities. Increased interests in evaluation through the provision of measurements for outputs not only provide opportunities for what are perceived to be more objective criteria by which decisions about the future might be made, but also provide a supposedly neutral calculus divorced from reality which can be used to disguise essentially political decisions. (Marsden 1990: 5, emphases added) This trend of context stripping is of course peculiar neither to development studies nor NGO research. In fact, as Marsden infers, it is an important part of a more general epistemological and methodological position, commonly known as positivism, which believes that reality can be captured in a measured, objective and neutral way. 3 Although the `positivist' position has been severely criticised, social science has generally encountered difficulty freeing itself from its influence. Consequently, as Marsden contends, 'process' remains an undervalued and underdeveloped analytical domain while the use of reified categories and constructs persists.

2 Clarke (1995) notes for example that important NGO focused texts such as Clark (1990), the four volume series by Farrington, Bebbington (1993), the series initiated by Edwards and HuIme (1992) have all been funded partly or wholly by prominent British NG0s. This trend has continued with texts such as Edwards and Hulme (1995), Hulme and Edwards (1997), Riddell and Robinson (1995) and so on.
See Elias (1978: 104-131), Giddens (1979) and Hammersley and Atkinson (1995: 1-22) for discussions on the history and features of positivism.
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Notwithstanding ample rhetorical commitment, research continues therefore to take as its object the homo clausus rather than the homines aperti (Elias 1978), static, self contained and naturalised entities rather than open-ended, interdependent and interrelated ones.

Development studies are proud of their anthropological, people-centred and bottom-up roots and are naturally keen not to be seen as courting positivist tendencies. Yet, as I showed in chapter one, the NGO literature tends towards a functionalist, instrumentalist and positivist direction. This is, in my view, a cause for concern. This thesis tries to move in a different direction indicated by Farrington and Bebbington's (1993) challenge that we view NGOs "not simply as organizations that execute functions, but as organizations of human agents which themselves have identities, objectives, and above all, social histories (Farrington and Bebbington 1993: 42).

One of the objectives of my thesis is to look at these identities and social histories of NGOs and to do this, I recognise the need to distance myself from substantialist and positivist perspectives. The epistemology I follow in this thesis could therefore be classified as 'interpretative - interactive' and the features which are prioritised are contextuality, historicity and process. Clearly an exploration of the range of theoretical contributions entailed in such a framework is neither possible nor necessary here. So I will use the works of Long (1989a, 1989b, 1989c, 1992, Long and Villareal 1993,) and Giddens (1976, 1979, 1984,) to identify the terrain where I construct my epistemological stance.

An important useful starting point is offered by Giddens' structuration theory. 4 The broadest and most general affirmation of Giddens' perspective is that social reality is not a given, established or ordered one, but an on-going, negotiated one which is created and reproduced over time and space through human action. The act of creating and reproducing entails that the relationship between 'structure' and 'agency'5 is dialectical rather than deterministic or voluntaristic. So that to paraphrase Bourdieu, it is the very schemes engendered by history which permit individual and collective practices to reproduce history (Bourdieu 1977: 82). One of the implications of characterising structure and agency as mutually constitutive elements is that it allows Giddens to insist that all social actors, without exception, have some degree of penetration of the social structures and processes which oppress them (Giddens 1979). This links in with important

Giddens' work is eclectic in nature and consequently his theoretical formulations are repeated in a number of publications. The details of the work I am drawing on here can be found in 1976: 93-129; 1979: 49-130; 1984: 1-40, 162-226, 281-354. His work on structuration emerges from his attempt to devise "New Rules of Sociological Method." In his first elaboration, there were nine such rules (see 1976: 160-162). Since my focus here lies on the interpenetration and interrelation of structure and agency, I am less interested in the particular definition of each category. The definitions I adopt are therefore broad. I take agency to refer to the capability of actors to do things, and structure to those rules, resources and properties which are implicated in the reproduction of social systems. For a much fuller discussion of both categories see Hindness (1986).
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literature in development studies which looks at the everyday practices and perspectives of actors who although 'weak' (Scott 1985) or 'quiet' (Chen 1986, Hartmann and Boyce 1983), still have the capability and knowledge to exercise will and creativity in shaping the world around them (Long 1992).

One of the risks of much of this literature is to equate 'agency' solely with 'individual behaviour'. This is both conceptually wrong (Bourdieu 1977) and methodologically inappropriate for as Long (1992) - following Hindness (1986) - has argued, the quality of agency can be equally applied to any organisation, collectivity or group that has "the means of reaching and formulating decisions and of acting at least on some of them" (Long 1992: 23). 6 Since I have already shown in previous chapters that NGOs have both decision-making and organisational capacities, I would argue that it is legitimate to attribute to them the quality of agency.

The implications of this approach need however to be further explored since it would be true to say that most of the NGO literature already attributes to NGOs some form of agency. In fact the whole notion of 'NG comparative advantage' sits on the assumption that NGOs have efficient decision-making and organisational capacities. One of the weaknesses of this literature is that it tends to counterpose structure and agency as antagonistic and mutually exclusive categories. In other words, it is presumed that both have an existence independent of each other. Hence, the literature focuses on the 'relations between' structure and agency, and seeks to identify which of the two has greater influence in particular circumstances. The weakness of this approach lies in its radical separation of structure and agency and the inevitable prioritisation of one over the other. The basic domain of study which I want to highlight instead is an interactive one which continually evolves across space and time (Giddens 1984). Here structure and agency are mutually present and recursive in nature. Structure enables agency and agency generates structures.

One way of prioritising evolving spheres of interaction rather than relations between spheres is to focus on what Norman Long has termed 'interface encounters' (Long 1989a, 1989b,1989c, Long and Villareal 1993). An interface is described as

a critical point of intersection or linkage between different social systems, fields or levels of social order where structural discontinuities, based upon differences of normative value and social interest, are most likely to be found. (Long 1989a: 1-2) Interfaces therefore constitute a privileged domain where interactions between social actors can be studied. By observing interfaces, we hope to capture those instances where actors articulate their interests, perceptions and objectives and in so doing, come to 'structure' or 'reshape' new emergent interface contexts. Admittedly, this is a far more subtle research
Thus Long (1992a) argued for example that capitalist enterprises, state agencies and political parties have the power of agency, but the notions of class or gender do not (Long 1992a: 23).
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challenge than the one posed by the `relations between' scenario outlined above in that actors often bring their intentions, values and interests to the interface in a manner which is largely tacit and sometimes even unconscious.'

Unfortunately, interface analysis can be elusive as it is subtle. Long (1989c) himself outlines 7 different research methodologies suitable for interface analysis and then informs us, almost nonchalantly, that these probably need to be "complemented with other forms of data collection, and perhaps, later, one will need to consider the question of how to sample the larger universe" (Long 1989c: 253). Given the degree of intricacy involved in dealing with processes or interface situations, it is not surprising that researchers who attempt interface analysis, describe the whole experience as a `worrying' and `soul searching' one (Lewis 1991).

3. NEGOTIATING 'POLITICS'

My first visit to Bangladesh for research purposes occurred in December of 1995. 8 I spent one month in Dhaka trying to introduce myself and my research topic to different NGO leaders, donors and a few of the country's leading academics. In those days my research title was `The Changing Role of NGOs in Bangladesh' and my subtitle 'NGOs and their Political Significances'. Carrying two titles in this way proved to be interesting for while I found that people were very willing to talk about how NGOs had changed over the years, I noticed that the same people were evasive in discussions about the political significances of NG0s. The following conversation with one of the country's prominent NGO leaders exemplifies the reaction my subtitle provoked.9

[I asked the NGO leader how he thought I might be able to look at the political significances of NGOs] This is not a good question. NGOs are involved in development work not politics. While political groups seek power for themselves, we try to facilitate change that will benefit the poor. You should do a thesis on empowerment instead and look at the work of NGOs lobbying for changes in health, education, women's rights or credit. There are many places where you would find good case studies. 7 Villareal's (1992) account of how women beekeepers negotiated a degree of independence by making strategic use of their 'dependent position' on men and the state, is a good example here. The contribution of Scott (1985) is also pertinent in that he identifies a variety of silent and passive strategies in actors' everyday forms of resistance.
Before undertaking my PhD project, I had been in Bangladesh from October of 1989 to January of 1993 working in a non-formal education programme. Not only did this prolonged stay give me the opportunity to acquaint myself with various aspects of life in Bangladesh, it also helped me acquire valuable language skills. This meant that I could work without a translator during my subsequent research. The interview was conducted on 6 January 1996, in Dhaka.
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[I then suggested that forms of empowerment and advocacy were inherently political] No. There are many differences between politics and development. NGOs only do politics with a small 'p' and that is our work on empowerment, advocacy and lobbying. Political parties instead do politics with a big P'. They are interested in gathering votes and staying in power.1 [I tried to move the conversation on by asking him to explain what had happened at the 1 January Poverty Convention." Was that not a political event?] The Poverty Convention was organised by grassroots organisations and we only helped set-up the event. It was not a political meeting but a gathering of people interested in the welfare of the poor. Our agenda was to draw attention to the plight of the poor. The meeting was not about politics, but about social development. I was disappointed with this first research trip. First of all, I had not been able to locate a suitable 'research site'. Secondly, I had the impression that it would be difficult to find a collaborative environment in which to look at the questions I felt were interesting. The fact that I did not rewrite a whole new research proposal owes much to the support of my supervisor who encouraged me to look at redefining 'the political' rather than abandon my general focus.

There were two reasons why I wanted to look at the political significances of NG0s. The first was a theoretical commitment to an established tradition in which 'politics' is associated with any and all issues of power. As Bailey stated "[the] political is that aspect of any act which concerns the distribution of power" (Bailey 1959: 223). An investigation of the political nature of NGOs is therefore, to recall the structure-agency framework, an investigation into how NGOs are affected by and affect the distribution of power in society. This is distinct, even if it can never be fully separated, from a 'political analysis' perspective. In the latter, the 'political' is perceived as a specific level or activity of human life; while in the former, it is perceived as a reality which permeates all that is human (Slater 1992: 296). The second reason I was interested in analysing NGOs with a sort of 'political mindedness' (Goldsworth 1988) was because there was a real lacuna in the literature in this regard. I have already indicated some of the reasons why this lacuna exists, such as: the prevalence of positivist and deductive thinking, an NGO literature often operating within its own terms, a tendency to programmatic evaluations and a concomitant lack of attention to process-centred research.

In June of 1996, my supervisor suggested I return to Bangladesh since there had been reports of a heated debate concerning the position adopted by many NGOs in the 12 June parliamentary elections. I went and spent a total of 6 weeks moving between Dhaka and

10 This distinction is developed conceptually in Sharma (1992). ii See the introduction of chapter one.

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different rural villages in an attempt to gather as much information as possible from different NGO leaders, members and non-members. I found that the mood had changed significantly since my December 1995 trip. NGOs had taken a proactive stance in the non-cooperation movement which had gripped the country by organising protests, manifestations, voter education programmes and so on. I returned to the same prominent NGO leader who in December had advised me not to waste time on looking at NGOs and politics. We were talking generally about the noncooperation movement and then I asked him if the NGOs were correct in undertaking the voter education programme given that, as he himself had told me, politics and development are two separate domains. He replied:

Over the last few years the position of NGOs has changed in Bangladesh. In 1990, we were wrongly accused of turning our back on the pro-democracy movement. Then in the early nineties, we had to defend ourselves against bureaucratic and fundamentalist forces which wanted to get rid of NGOs because of the work we do for the poor and women. Not only did we manage to defend ourselves, but we also became a prominent civil society force in Bangladesh and earned the respect of the donors, the media, civil society leaders and other progressive forces. While in 1990 we were being led by civil society, now we are the leaders. The Poverty Convention of 1 January proved how much support we now have in the country. After that meeting, different civil society leaders wanted to meet with us and discuss ways of collaborating. In this sense, the voter education programme does not contradict our mission at all, but is part of the overall responsibility we have as leaders of civil society and promoters of democracy. Our job is to advocate on behaff of the poor and at the moment there are many influential people who want to listen and talk to us. If we can win over these influential people, then our members will be able to access more resources and fight for their rights. During the trip of June 1996, I realised that a door had been opened which led to the kind of questions I wanted to look at. All of a sudden, the proposition that the identities, objectives and social histories of NGOs (Farrington and Bebbington 1993) might have 'political' aspects was not only possible, but also becoming an increasingly important part of the debate on NGOs in Bangladesh. On my return from this trip, I began to use the material I had gathered to tease out a more specific and relevant definition of the 'political'. The aspect of NGOs which can be called 'political' therefore highlights two themes which are both referred to in the response of the NGO leader reported above. First of all, NGOs engage in the competition for scarce resources to effect a distribution pattern which responds to the needs and interests of their members, i.e. the poorer sections of society. Politics in this sense is about being in a position to re-configure the power structures which regulate the distribution of resources (Bailey 1970). Secondly, in order to alter the rules and patterns of resource-distribution, NGOs seek to mobilise increasingly complex networks of relationships and alliances. Politics in this sense is about building and leading wider coalitions of interests (Wood 1999).

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4. NEGOTIATING 'CASE STUDIES'

4.1 The Problem of the Research Site

Despite the fact that there are many NGOs in Bangladesh, having to choose a particular NGO to carry out fieldwork research proved to be more problematic than I had anticipated. I arrived in Bangladesh in November of 1996 to begin one year of fieldwork and during the first six weeks I spent time discussing a suitable location with different academics, NGO leaders and donors. On their advice, I visited about 20 NGOs trying to get an overall view of their work and make a judgement on their suitability as research sites.

Many of my first contacts were made with the larger and more established NG0s. On the whole, these tend to be well-researched institutions and are therefore accustomed to playing host to consultants, academics and donor representatives. To any prospective researcher these organisations offer obvious advantages: they have experience of dealing with and welcoming outside researchers, they also have well-furnished offices in many different parts of the country with accommodation facilities, many have their own research departments and can offer the services of their trained, English-speaking research assistants, and finally, almost all possess and allow access to research material (reports, articles, videos, clippings and so on) which again are in English. In other words, larger NGOs have the ability to arrange a `research environment' without great difficulty.

My own experience with the larger NGOs however was a frustrating one. On the one hand, I felt that the local staff of larger NGOs were slightly anxious about my presence. In some of the discussions we had, they referred me back too quickly to their respective head offices in Dhaka for responses to questions which were of a very local nature. This insistence on referring back to Dhaka became like a warning bell to me. I knew I was going to ask sensitive questions, and if staff did not feel free or comfortable enough to discuss these, then the research would have been severely hampered. On the other hand, I also found that local office staff were usually well prepared for my short visit. Samities had been therefore selected in advance for me, NGO staff always accompanied me, and field officers were on hand to `help' samity members respond to any question or issue I would wish to raise. The possibility that things were so prepared and arranged that I might have difficulty freely pursuing my research began to concern me.

Hashemi (1990: 31-38) offers a useful reflection on the question of overly prepared research environments. In a study he carried out on the empowering potential of NGOs in Bangladesh, he compared the responses of NGO members from three different types of meetings which he

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classified as: a) the 'staged meeting', b) the 'normal good meeting' and c) the 'normal bad meeting'. In the staged meeting, the researcher's arrival is made known in advance to the NGO and group members. At this meeting, attendance was found to be very high and group members' responses consistent with the overall 'NGO message'. On the basis of these findings, Hashemi writes in his field notes that he was happy with what he perceived as a good example of people's empowerment (Hashenni 1990: 33). In the 'normal good meeting', the researcher randomly chose one group from a particular area. While this group knew that they might be visited, they were not certain and, as a consequence, prepared themselves less. In fact when the researcher arrived, he found that members had to be called to the meeting, they then had to be prompted and encouraged by the NGO leader to respond to the questions posed by the researcher, and throughout the discussion they tended either to remain silent or passively approve the statements of the NGO leader. Finally, in the 'normal bad meeting', the researcher arrived at a group completely unannounced. Absences were found to be high, the meeting began very late and members' responses were inconsistent with the overall `NGO message'. In fact, at one point the NGO worker became furious at the group members for answering the question 'wrongly' and went on to explain what the 'correct' answer should have been.

In the short visits to NG05, I was continually exposed to numerous 'staged meetings'. Initially this worried me for I interpreted staged meetings as an instance of research interference and I was concerned of the risk of significant bias being introduced to my research agenda. If Hashemi's analysis had been confined to the 'staged meeting', his conclusions on the NGO empowerment process would have presumably been positive. Instead, by analysing non-staged contexts, he reached a completely different conclusion and argued that the NGO empowerment process was more symbolic than genuine, rhetoric than real. This is the main reason why researchers are anxious about 'staged contexts' in Bangladesh (Hague 1998).

There is of course a suspicion, brought out clearly in Hashemi's conclusion, that what is staged is less genuine than what is non-staged. As I reflected on my own research anxieties about visits being too prepared, I began to realise that to treat contexts as genuine or non-genuine was however dangerous and misleading. A fundamental characteristic of NGO life in Bangladesh is that like all institutions, they constantly have to perform on different 'stages' to different audiences. There is however a sociological value in the ability of NGOs to present themselves on different stages, and I began to think that it was worth incorporating rather than discarding this value in my analysis. Some of the insights from Erving Goffman's sociology helped develop this argument.

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One of Goffman's overarching concerns is that of promoting what he refers to as the 'interaction order' 12 (Goffman 1983) as an analytically viable category. In this perspective, all social interactions are perceived as 'staged' events. Accordingly, interactions are like performances in which actors strive to convey particular impressions of themselves by playing certain roles. The success of any performance therefore depends on the ability of the actor to accentuate or suppress those aspects which are directly related to the role they have assumed. The accentuated aspects mainly appear in what Goffman calls the 'front stage', which is that part of a performance immediately accessible to the audience. This also entails however that there exists a 'backstage', not normally accessible to the audience, where actors construct, prepare and rehearse their front stage performances (Goffman 1959: 114).

Research into development organisations in Bangladesh will inevitably come across staged events and rehearsed speeches or answers. The challenge, especially for 'process orientated research', is one of relating the front stage to the backstage performances and being able to incorporate both dimensions in our analysis. The backstage offers rich insights into how an institution performs on the front stage. Reaching the backstage is however not always an easy task for the passage between fronts and backs is well guarded. As Goffman notes

if we see perception as a form of contact and communion, then control over what is perceived is control over contact that is made, and the limitation and regulation of what is shown is a limitation and regulation of contact. There is a relation here between informational terms and ritual ones. Failure to regulate the information acquired by the audience involves possible disruption of the projected definition of the situation; failure to regulate contact involves possible ritual contamination of the performer. (Goffman 1959: 74) Control over contact therefore allows control over perception. In the case of larger NG0s, the possibilities for controlling contact and perception are greater and indeed many of the local staff have but limited access to the bigger and complex backstage of their respective organisations. Given that I was committed to following NGO actors in their movements between back and front stages, I decided that it would be better to focus on NGOs whose size and operation could be captured within a single research framework.

The decision I had to make then was to choose between a mid-level and a small NGO. My preference for the former was determined by the fact that it offered two potential advantages. On the one hand, there are many mid-level NGOs whose size and operation could be handled within a single research project. On the other hand, mid-level NGOs often operate as links between larger and smaller NGOs and so if I found an appropriate mid-level NGO, I hoped it might even help me to observe the 'backstage' which the bigger NGO community shares.

The interaction order is defined as covering 'face to face' domains, but is distinguished from 'situationalism' or immediate confrontation (Goffman 1983). Long and Villareal (1993) make a very similar argument in their definition of 'interface'.

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Despite having a set of selected criteria with which to look for a suitable NGO research site, my final choice was actually made after an unplanned, unsolicited and opportunistic meeting. While discussing my research agenda with an advisor in Dhaka, I was informed that an NGO Director had just arrived whose organisation was renowned for its 'radical and empowering' work. This led to my first meeting with Kayesh, the Director of Shammo, a mid-level NGO working in the North West of Bangladesh.

Kayesh accompanied me on my first visit to Shammo which took place in January of 1997. Like my previous NGO visits, I only stayed with Shammo a few days and used the time to talk with staff members, see several samity groups, look around the surrounding area and acquaint myself with the history of the NGO. The entry in my diary for the 9th of January reads:

Today I have talked to the senior staff of Shammo. They were curious and courteous. Most talked freely (which I liked), even if the Director tended to be a bit forceful and heavy in his interventions [...]. Yesterday I met two female samities in the morning and one male samity in the evening. I asked general questions about their activities and involvement with Shammo. At least one member of the senior staff accompanied me in all these meetings. I felt that people were talking freely enough and that they were comfortable with me. With the staff members today, I tried to explain some of my research concerns. Not only did I tell them I was interested in 'NG politics' (oddly enough, their reactions were rather bland in comparison with NGO staff in Dhaka), but that I would need a certain amount of autonomy and independence. They seemed to have no objection. In fact, I am convinced the staff are more eager than the poor members themselves that I undertake research. Obviously, they feel they have little to lose or more to gain [...]. Overall I feel that this might be a suitable research site. There are a number of practical difficulties which I haven't even discussed yet (for a start, there are no accommodation facilities) and I am not so sure the staff really understand the disruption my research might create. I will return to Dhaka tomorrow, think about what I have seen these last few days and speak again to Kayesh when he comes to Dhaka... The next time I met Kayesh in Dhaka, we talked about my visit and again he extended an invitation to carry out my research at Shammo. This time I agreed. On hindsight, the reasons I chose Shammo as a research site were:

a) it was a local NGO, based in a rural area and not in the Dhaka division; b) it was neither big nor small, and since it still had only one office, it was possible to get an overall picture of the NGO in one research project; c) there were very few documentary sources on the NGO, making it a relatively unresearched organisation; d) it had a reputation as a radical NGO working with landless poor and committed to land reform;

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e) the Director had since the early 1990s established himself within the wider NGO community and had actively participated in many of the events and decisions which affected the same community. He was therefore a potential point of entry to the wider NGO community; 0 finally, the same Director had been elected onto a number of NGO national committees and was also a leader of NGOs in the North West of Bangladesh. In this sense, he was an important part of the system which links NGOs throughout Bangladesh.

4.2 The Problem of the Researcher

The people of Bangladesh are hospitable, friendly and warm and carrying out research there was an enjoyable experience for me. However Bangladesh is also a complex cultural setting within which to carry out research, even more so if the research entails close and sustained interaction with communities. 13 The physical condition of the researcher cannot be separated from the research process (Hammersley and Atkinson 1995) and so potential difficulties which could influence relationships are inherent in our nationalities (Lewis 1991), gender (Hague 1998), social position (Costa 1997), and occupation (D'Rozario 1998). The context obviously is important. So for example White (1992) argues that being a female researcher in the midst of women raises issues and expectations which are different from being a female researcher among men, while Glaser (1989) found that she had to become an 'honorary male' in order to carry out her research as a woman in Bangladesh.

During my own research, there were different 'expectations' or 'honorary roles' asked of me. So for example, many NGO activists saw me as anything from a potential 'donor contact', to a 'resource person useful for writing up projects', to an 'oddity roughing it out' in some village. Local people (rivals and sympathisers of the NGO where I was carrying out fieldwork) were equally intrigued in trying to work out who I was. The titles they honoured me with ranged from 'CIA informant' to `the boss who funds all the NGOs in Bangladesh"! To many of the villagers (NGO members) with whom I spent most of my time, I was both a source of entertainment with stories about 'home', as well as a nuisance going over the same old questions time and time again. All of these expectations reveal just how difficult it is at times for the 'researched' themselves to locate researchers in their own experiences. Research is a 'messy business' (Rose 1997), it is also a disruptive one - and probably more so for the researched than the researcher.

13 In this regard, it is surprising and sad how little attention is generally given by the NGO and development literature to the problematic of cross cultural research.

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Tensions can arise not only from a researcher's perceived role or identity, but also from the research topic itself. The fact that my topic was considered a sensitive subject meant not only that I was continually caught between 14 people's suspicion and trust, but also that alliances and divisions coalesced around the 'impression' people formed of me. While carrying out research therefore I often heard and was accused of being tader lok (one of them) or amader lok (one of us). 16 At least on one occasion I was also told that my mere physical presence had prevented the unlawful arrest of a landless samity member. In fact for this reason, both NGO members and staff were keen that I participate in their organised meetings, demonstrations and mobilisations. 16 In this sense, the presence of researchers in contexts where communities are struggling over scarce resources, enacts power relations in ways that are complex, ambivalent and potentially counter-hegemonic (Clifford 1986: 9).

The fact that both my research topic and my human condition provoked various expectations meant that I too, like an actor on a stage, had to learn how to negotiate and manage different roles. 17 Field relations can make or break the fieldwork experience, and so it is important to carefully negotiate research positions. In my own case, I found that it was through these negotiations that I managed to retain some form of research independence. This independence is to be distinguished from the highly contested notion of 'research neutrality', 18 and seeks to prevent both the research and the researcher from being co-opted. It is negotiated through an infinite number of everyday, sometimes 'banal', research choices. I was therefore conscious of how my knowledge of the language facilitated considerable autonomy while the decision to accept accommodation at the NGO office potentially compromised the same. Staying at the NGO office understandably invited comments that I was on their side (tader lok). In a similar way, decisions taken regarding how to physically move from one place to another (using public

The notion of 'betweenness' is one I find useful. "Ethnography" in the words of one author, is in itself an exercise which "is actively situated between powerful systems of meaning" (Clifford 1986: 2, original emphasis). Hague (1998) describes her own research experience as being one where she is caught 'between' striving not to be different from her research subjects while realising the impossibility of being the same as them. She identifies this experience of 'betweenness' as an example of a 'hybrid research form' (Rose 1997: 315) which emerges from the experience of being neither an insider nor an outsider; a theoretician nor a practitioner; in the field nor not in the field. For further discussion of the theoretical potential of this notion see Rose (1997). 15 This accusation was made in the local context where alliances were split around the NGO. Hence, rival elites accused me of being 'with the NGO's side'. However, and curiously, I also heard the same accusation from NGO activists themselves. Hence, some NGO leaders accused me of being 'on the side of a rival NGO leader'.
16 My decision to attend meetings like these was based entirely on their relevance to my research. Inevitably, I had to negotiate the conditions of my presence with both NGO staff and members. At times, our research relationship was tense because of this. 17

14

What Goffman refers to as 'impression management' (Goffman 1955).

The idea of research 'neutrality' is problematic on a number of grounds. For many, the notion hinders research from discovering ways of legitimately committing itself to particular social, political and moral values (Hammerseley 1992). From a different perspective, others argue that the notion of research neutrality rests on an untenable separation of theory and practice (Hastrup 1994, Atkinson 1990).

18

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transport or means offered by the NGO), selecting groups or individuals to interview (preselected by the NGO or not), using a research assistant or not, all contributed in shaping the degree of independence my research enjoyed. Why are these, and other, micro-arrangements so important? Simply because it is through them, to recall Goffman, that 'control over contact' is negotiated.19

To the extent that social science deals with the lives of people, it necessarily entails many complex ethical questions for both researcher and researched. There are of course many questions which could be dealt with here, but space limits the discussion to the two points which I feel are most important for reading the thesis.

First of all, I tried to be as honest as I could be in informing people of the themes and issues I was dealing with in my research agenda. Most of my interviews were arranged through the contacts I managed to build up myself, although on occasions I asked advisors to help arrange particular interviews with actors that were outside of my contact range, such as politicians, bureaucrats, certain NGO leaders and so on. At this point, I want to acknowledge the cooperation extended to me in my research.

Secondly, I always informed interviewees of my intention to use pseudonyms when writing up my thesis. While people were happy with that arrangement, most also stated that they would not mind if their identities were revealed. Indeed, the members and staff of Shammo often urged me not to change their names since they wanted their story to be told as it was. In the thesis, I decided however to change where possible the names of places, actors and organisations. Although I admire the courage with which staff and members of Shammo encouraged me to use real names, my decision not to do so has been fuelled by the concern to protect people who have confided in me and have done so generously and honestly. To guarantee the anonymity of actors and organisations, I have had to remove the references of some of my sources. I make it clear in the thesis where I revert to this strategy. Finally, in some cases, it was not reasonable or possible to change the names of certain actors of organisations. I have adopted a double strategy here. Where there is already circulated published material referring to incidents or actors I am dealing with, I have not changed the names. If instead, I use information generated through personal interviews with these same actors, I revert to using pseudonyms.

19 To clarify my own negotiated position, I deliberately chose to use public transport and carry out research alone. I was obliged to stay at the NGO office simply because there were no other reasonable alternatives. Throughout my stay, both the people of the village and the staff of the NGO were very hospitable and did everything they could to make me feel welcome and at home. During my first month, I also made use of an assistant to help me familiarise myself with the geography of the area. He however had never heard of Shammo, nor had he ever stayed in their working area. Finally, while many of my contacts were made or suggested by the NGO itself, I kept only those I felt were willing or capable of contributing to my research.

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5. NEGOTIATING 'QUESTIONS'

While the discussion so far has revealed the contingent nature of my research experience, this should not be mistaken for or confused with 'research ad hocism or opportunism'. Although on a number of occasions I have had to incorporate new insights and adjust my research accordingly, the basic questions and orientations, which Malinowski referred to as a research's 'foreshadowed problems', 2 have remained constant from the beginning. This chapter has already shown for example how my interest in the 'politics' of NGOs has taken on a number of different forms and developed over time. This however has not betrayed the substance of my research agenda which was to analyse NGOs with a 'political mindedness'.

A similar dynamic occurred in relation to the themes and questions I chose for my research. In my first PhD seminar at Bath, I wrote that my main research objective was to tease out the political significances of NGOs by looking specifically at their influence in two main areas: the policy arena and the wider political process in Bangladesh (Devine 1996c). These choices were made on the basis of information gathered from literature and interviews. When however I began to give analytical priority to the idea of NGOs building coalitions of interests, I realised that there was an important dimension to the NGO story which my initial research proposal had overlooked, namely the local engagement of NG0s. In the end therefore, I have retained the original question on the policy arena (chapter seven) and split my original question on wider political processes into two: one dealing with local level processes (chapter six) and one dealing with national level processes (chapter eight). The diagram below presents a snapshot of the general themes.

20 " Preconceived ideas are pernicious in any scientific work, but foreshadowed problems are the main endowment of a scientific thinker, and these problems are first revealed to the observer by his theoretical studies" (Malinowski in Hammersley and Atkinson 1995: 24-25). See Hammersley and Atkinson 1995: 24-36 for extended discussion on the importance of foreshadowed problems for research.

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Diagram 1: Research Questions

I I

/
/ /

."--

-NN \ N N \ \ \ / \ \ / I 1 I I1\11. I / ,- -- -- Local Level

1

National 4

/4

/ I I

\ \ \
\ \ \ N

NGO /
/

N N

\ N

-...

--

--

/
--

N -..

NPolicy Level .

-- ---

The circles are situated concentrically to remind us that the areas of engagement are not equally present to the NGO. In other words, for a group like Shammo, the wider national arena is socially more distant than the policy and local ones. If a similar diagram were constructed for other NG0s, it would probably be drawn differently. For example, not all NGOs engage in the same three arenas and many NGOs engage in spaces not represented here (for example, global advocacy). Secondly, whether a particular arena is deemed 'closer to' or 'farther from' the NGO will depend on the strategic operations of the NGO. For example while the 'closest' arena of engagement for Shammo is the local arena, for ADAB it is the national level and there are a number of advocacy centred NGOs (normally based in Dhaka) whose closest arena would probably be the policy one.

Although the arenas of engagement may change both in name and position, the idea of conceptualising proximity and distance in the way outlined above is a fruitful organising principle. First of all, the notion of levels allows us to add a degree of sophistication to our analysis in that at each level, the character of and the actors involved in negotiating objectives, may well change. Secondly, in the diagram the circles are never completely closed. This reflects on the one hand, the fact that the division between the levels is an artificial one, constructed to suit the experience of Shammo. On the other it seeks to express the idea that

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the boundaries of social spheres are always porous. Applied to our discussion, this means that the ability of NGOs to bargain and engage at one level will both depend on and condition engagements at other levels. This is in fact one of the tenets of the `scaling-up' argument, the different forms of which have been examined more closely in the first chapter. Finally, all the arrows used in the diagram point in both directions. This is to convey both the negotiated, recursive and embedded qualities of all social interactions. In particular, it warns against wrongly presuming that NGOs are immune and unaffected by the reality they are immersed in.

Having identified a set of overarching themes and clarified methodologies, the researcher is still faced with the actual challenge of collecting data and attributing significance to them. In terms of data collection, my approach was deliberately eclectic in nature and I have always refrained from defining it either as 'qualitative' or 'quantitative'. The qualitative-quantitative distinction carries a deep-rooted tension in that:

[the] two aims are to some extent contradictory: the drive to get quantitative data can be alienating as people may be unwilling for you to know details, or be unable to remember precisely and become frustrated. On the other hand, fuller 'participation' may preclude the kind of 'hard' data which development studies expect. Even taken separately these two traditions contain their own contradictions (White 1992: 10) Most researchers deal with this ambiguity by combining in different ways elements of both approaches and acknowledging that they have had to make trade-offs and compromises in the process. As will be clear from my account, I too combine both quantitative and qualitative elements in my research approach. However I take a position close to that of Hammersley (1992) who argues that the complexity and richness of the research experience cannot always be encapsulated in one method or the other. The attempt to radically separate research approaches and concentrate only on one seems to me to be more ambiguous than the need to combine them.

My overall concern was to gather valid information relevant to my general research objectives. To do this, I devised a questionnaire (see appendix one) which deliberately attempted to cover a wide range of issues and questions. The guiding theme underpinning the questionnaire was to explore the perceived role of NGOs in the making and remaking of different types of relations through which power is constituted (social, political, cultural, religious, gender, class and so on). The questions were deliberately loosely structured, informal and open-ended since I was more interested in probing to acquire knowledge than simply filling-in responses. For this reason, I also decided from early on that I would use focus groups to discuss the issues raised in the questionnaire since I felt that compared to individual interviews, these would provide more discussion and debate, as well as offer added insights into collective understandings. In total, I managed to organise 6 focus groups: 2 male and 2 female NGO member groups, one NGO staff group, and one group consisting of staff from other local NG0s. There were 5 to 7

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participants in each group. I also managed to bring together a focus group of local elite leaders but after the first meeting I realised that the sense of animosity and/or suspicion was so high that it would make the group ineffective. I therefore resorted to carrying out these interviews personally. This proved to be a far less stimulating approach.

As I will explain in detail later in chapter eight, during my research into electoral issues, some of the samity members themselves suggested I widen my range of contacts and visit other communities with the same questions I was asking them to ponder over. I therefore devised a set of questions that dealt very specifically with 'political' themes and issues (appendix two). Since the nature and objective of this questionnaire were different and since I had to move into villages which were relatively far from Shammo's working area, I could not use focus groups to discuss the issues contained in the questionnaire. A combination of different techniques and methods were used to identify and select respondents for this questionnaire. These are explained in appendix two.

The nature of my research meant that I had to spend considerable time in Dhaka. This allowed me to incorporate into my research the views of key NGO officials, donors and academics. Here again however, I was constrained to use individual interview techniques as the focus group setting was just not practical. Time spent in Dhaka complemented the work carried out in the local area and also proved useful for collecting written material on issues pertinent to my research question.

Having to move between a city and a village was an interesting research experience. In Dhaka, interviews had often to be arranged well in advance and were frequently postponed or cancelled for a number of reasons including: hartals (strikes), traffic congestion, unplanned meetings taking precedence over research interviews and so on. Most interviews were carried out in offices and entailed a certain degree of formality. By contrast, in the villages there were no telephones, no secretaries or no Visiting-cards'. The vast majority of the people had never really spoken to a foreigner, least of all one who was carrying out research and asking demanding questions. Here I had to invest considerable effort into gaining the trust and friendship of people. Hence, tea stalls, rice fields, bus journeys where all good places to collect information and follow up on leads. I noticed that people were also quite willing to talk while they carried on their work of making bins (cigarettes), watering fields, cooking meals, weaving baskets and playing with their children. Although research is always a disruptive experience, I found that in the local village context, people can literally 'get used to you' and even attached to you. This trust, friendship or acquaintance goes some way to making the research process less disruptive.

Besides the questionnaire format which I used, I also spent considerable time simply observing and taking part in what was happening around me. During my fieldwork, I therefore attended

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different meetings, listened to numerous training classes, joined processions and manifestations, accompanied donors and consultants, participated in cultural functions and even learnt and played cricket for the first time in my life! All of this helped build up the trust I referred to previously and introduced me to different contexts, people and situations, where I had the chance not only of discovering new understandings but also of discussing and debating 'older' interpretations.

At a very early stage of my research, my supervisor commented that my topic was less about 'The changing role of NGOs in Bangladesh' (my initial title) and more about `NGOs in a changing Bangladesh'. Although I ignored his comments at that time, today I acknowledge their validity. His comment raises the problem of attributing weight and causality in a research agenda exploring processes of change. So for example, a piece of research which focuses on the NGO itself (as my original title suggests) will have to deal with the fact that change is pervasive throughout Bangladesh. How then to assess the impact of a single group? Are NGOs the only or indeed main catalysts of the change that is being observed? One way of dealing methodologically with these questions is to identify a research setting where the NGO variable is not present and compare it with a setting where the NGO is present. This methodology is a popular one and has been recently adopted by Costa (1997) in his PhD research. While there is no questioning the value of the information generated in his study, I think there are methodological problems in trying to 'explain' differences simply with reference to the presence or absence of an NGO. Setting up and inferring causality from controlled experiments in ideal laboratory conditions is already problematic (Judd et a! 1991), the difficulties therefore of doing something similar in social science are considerable. The suggestion of my supervisor represents a different approach to this challenge. By switching the focus from the 'NG itself to the 'evolving processes of change', the problem of attributing change becomes less acute as emphasis is placed on how agents like NGOs take part in, shape and are shaped by a process which is already on-going.

This does not mean however that the attribution problem has disappeared altogether for decisions still have to be made about the significance of all the data (verbal, written and observed) collected. I remember once asking one of the NGO members about his role in a particular incident. His answer then contradicted the account he had given me of the same incident one month earlier. Since there was a reasonable amount of trust between us, I asked him to explain the contradiction. His response was simply "I have not changed my story, it is just that now I know you better".

Accounts, reports, descriptions and interpretations are not always consistent and both researcher and researched have to discern what information is given out and how it is given out. This is not I think something specific to Bangladesh. It does however pose the problem of how to assess information. In the research I carried out, I relied on two basic overarching

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criteria: validity and relevance. The former presumes a relationship between information offered or gathered and reality: an account is therefore considered valid if it represents reality.21 The latter concerns the relative importance of information gathered for the research topic: an account is therefore deemed relevant if it contributes to greater understanding. Even if in theory these statements are fairly obvious, it remains difficult to put them into practice. Hence while I found that passing remarks, rumours, gossip and body signs were often far more relevant and valid than any written or formal documentary evidence I could find, I was often warned that a good PhD needs 'harder facts' to back up nuanced, informal and 'wooly' speculations. The ambiguity of how to collect data (quantitative-qualitative debate) is therefore reproduced in the discussion on what data to collect.

6. NEGOTIATING 'REFLEXIVITY', 'POSITIONALITY' AND 'HERMENEUTICS'

The admission of the NGO member that he had changed his account because he 'knew me better stayed with me a long time for it reminded me of two important points. First of all, that the researcher cannot separate him or herself from the research process: the two are intrinsically linked. Secondly, the research relationship is ongoing and evolving and so information and insights are not normally given once and for all, but recurrently. Bourdieu synthesises both these points with his argument that good research practice must be able not only to break the "native experience and the native representation of that experience [but also] the presuppositions inherent in the position of an outside observer, who, in his preoccupation with interpreting practices, is inclined to introduce into the object the principles of his relation to the object" (Bourdieu 1977: 2, original emphasis). In this way, we can speak of a double hermeneutic in research: one referring to the generation of knowledge, the other to the disposition of the researcher in the actual research. While historically, the literature on research has emphasised the first 'hermeneutical break', it is only recently that the second one has begun to attract similar scholarly attention. The 'textual revolution', its insistence on the maxim that 'knowledge made depends on who its makers are' (Rose 1997), has attempted to

21 Of the two, this is the more contentious criterion because of its claim to 'represent reality'. It is important however to distinguish between the selective representation of reality and the reproduction of reality. The former may be ascertained with a modicum of plausible, pertinent and credible evidence. For further discussion on both criteria see Hammersley (1992: 57-82). An interesting and complementary reading is offered by the collection of works in Hastrup and Hervik (1994). One of the more ambitious aims of this book is to demystify the discussion of 'representation' which, they argue, postmodernist criticisms have highlighted. Their work therefore insists that "however much the anthropologist is part of the reality studied, it is real" (Hastrup and Hervik 1994: 3).
The basic reference text here is Clifford and Marcus (1986) and important contributions can also be found in Atkinson (1990), Hastrup and Hervik (eds.) (1994), Rose (1997) and James, Hockey and Dawson (eds.) (1997).
22

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rebalance the hermeneutic debate by addressing the problematic position of the 'subject' or 'author' of research.

Although the full range of the debate cannot be rehearsed here, Clifford's (1986) summary statement is useful. He argues that research is determined in at least six ways: contextually, rhetorically, institutionally, generically, politically and historically. The implication of this is that social science research produces what are in the last analysis "ethnographic fictions" (Clifford 1986: 6, emphasis added), crafted and fashioned by the researcher. As such the 'object' and the 'subject', the 'authored' and the 'author', are intrinsically related and inseparable. The claim therefore that research produces knowledge which is neutral (Atkinson 1990), universal (Rose 1997) or comprehensive (Clifford 1986) is replaced by a recognition that all knowledge is embedded, partial and contestable. Rather than weakening research however, those who incorporate these insights insist that the process of becoming conscious of research language, reflexivity and positionality actually strengthens validity and relevance.

While the 'textual revolution' has enriched our understanding of the research process, it is not without contradiction and ambiguity. This has already been admitted by some of the most prominent scholars of the tradition. In fact, in preparing Writing Culture, Clifford acknowledges the inherent danger of the approach when he wrote that "our sharp separation of form from content - and our fetichising of form - was, and is, contestable. It is a bias that may well be implicit in modernist "textualism (Clifford 1986: 21). This puts the approach in a theoretical 'cul de sac' for while its stated objective is to challenge a view, sanctioned by previous research traditions, in which the "subjectivity of the author is separated from the objective referent of the text" (Clifford 1986: 13), it ends up reinforcing the very same separation. By stressing the subjectivity of the author, the approach simply prioritises one moment over another. The stress is thus changed, but the principle of discontinuity and separation persists.

For this reason, I would argue pace Bourdieu that research consists not of two, three or four hermeneutical breaks, but is, as Heidegger (1962) argued, a more circular and open-ended process. This means that the focus lies not on the 'subject' or the 'object', the 'process' or the 'product', the `form' or the 'content', but on their evolving and dialectic interrelations.23

This methodological unity constitutes a challenge to the whole practice of social science research in general and development studies in particular because it implies inter alia that "data collection, analysis, and writing are dialectic and ongoing rather than [...being...] separate steps in a linear process" (Agar 1995: 125). In development studies, while splitting research into

23 By 'dialectical', I am not inferring the Hegelian understanding whereby dialectics are assumed to a higher unity (thus synthesis subsumes both thesis and antithesis), but the Greek idea of 'dia logos' (dialogue or conversation) where full knowledge is permanently open to new questions and experiences.

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'preparation', 'fieldwork' and 'writing up' may be practical (Lewis 1991) or indeed inevitable, 24 it stunts and reifies the research process. Symptomatic of this is the fact that research methodology literature tends to portray time spent in the field' as exciting, dynamic, interactive and communicative while the 'writing up phase' is commonly considered a long, boring and lonely slog which 'you have to do on your own'. It is almost as if the dialogue with the 'researched' (so earnestly defended during 'fieldwork') is no longer viable or suitable for the solitary work of 'writing up'. 25 I have difficulties with this approach for it seems to me that although the situation and position of the researcher changes as the research progresses, it only does so in degree but not in kind. Hence, if dialectics and interaction are constitutive dimensions of the 'fieldwork phase', they cannot be suddenly ignored or abandoned in other 'phases'. Writing and sharing draft copies of chapters, presenting seminar papers, rereading important texts, discussing with colleagues and supervisors, returning to Bangladesh and keeping contact with the NGO community there especially through the intemet 26 have all been tactics I have adopted to 'revisit' previous interpretations and presentations. In the end, these tactics helped ensure that my 'positioned' understandings continued to evolve dialectically.

7. CONCLUSION: FUSING HORIZONS

Heidegger's idea of circular hermeneutics has been further elaborated by Gadamer in his discussions on the fusion of horizons. A horizon is the range of vision that includes everything that can be seen from a particular vantage point" (Gadamer 1975: 269). In other words, understanding is a conditioned and historicised, but ongoing and open process in which one's horizon is expanded and enlarged with every encounter made with the horizons or vantage points of others. What I hoped to convey in this chapter is that the journey to my vantage point could never be fully discerned or worked out at the beginning using some established

24 These three stages normally correspond to 'first', 'second' and 'third' years of research. The practice is also governed by financial restraints (grants, bursaries and so on) and bureaucratic imperatives (timetables of universities, donor agencies and so on.). 25 Not surprising therefore is the finding that as the research process advances towards 'writing up', the inputs from standard methodology courses and texts become minimal and less significant. "The voice of critical reflection falls silent and the collective wisdom of the sociological community wears progressively thinner' (Atkinson 1990: 177). Hastrup and Hervik (1994) argue that phone calls can never substitute fieldwork. This is true. However, modern means of communication have become important complements to fieldwork activity and will continue to be a part of future research agendas.
2S

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framework. Rather than a `map', I used an `itinerary' to guide me. 27 Signposts were there and I tried to be as meticulous as possible in `reading them', however even with this, the actual journey itself differed significantly from what I had anticipated when starting out.

The greatest contribution in developing my understanding of research methodology and epistemology was made by this fusion of horizons which I continually experienced. As a researcher, I was often asked to look from and enjoy the view from the different vantage points indicated by academic staff and advisors, available literature, NGO officials, various journeys to Bangladesh, discussions with fellow researchers and even the actual process of `writing up'. In these experiences and encounters, horizons fused and the outcome, never fully predictable, affected the direction and pace of my onward journey. Gadamer captures both these aspects nicely when he states that

the process of fusion is continually going on, for the old and new continually grow together to make something of living value, without ever being explicitly distinguished from each other. (Gadamer 1975: 273) Concluding the reflection on his fieldwork experience, Howes (1981) admits that his research process left a lot to be desired and coyly plays with the idea that others might simply interpret his `confession' as a smoke-screen to hide his own disorganisation. I am aware therefore that my reflection on my research process may not be all encompassing, all conclusive or indeed all convincing. And I am equally sure that my fragmented and contradictory research process may not please or convince everyone. That criticism is also a horizon which should not be excluded from my particular journey. The research process is after all

like finding one's way through a maze. And it is a rather badly kept and complex maze; where paths are not always clearly distinct, and also wind back on one another; and where one can never be entirely certain that one has reached the centre. (Hammersely 1992: 184-185) 28 The thesis is therefore an essentially explorative account. It has benefited from and seeks continual encounters with different ways of understanding the world. It offers its vantage point for other travellers to gaze from and it hopes to contribute to and maintain, rather than bring to a conclusion, future fusions of horizons.

Bourdieu (1977), de Certeau (1988) and Hastrup (1994) among others have all used the notions of maps, tours and itineraries to explain different ways of exploring the unknown. "Maps and tours reflect different poles of experience [...]. A map helps you situate your position, but the itinerary spells out the goal and the relevant places of reverence" (Hastrup 1994: 224-225). In this chapter, I. wanted to give the reader an idea of some of the actual movements and journeys I experienced throughout the research process. 28 Howes argues that if the actual research journey perfectly matched the planned journey, the whole research exercise would largely be a waste of time (Howes 1981: 46).

27

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In the second part of the thesis, I present some of the findings from the fieldwork I carried out in Bangladesh. The narrative I offer is based on what I could see from the vantage point where I was positioned. The are four chapters to the second part of the thesis. In chapter five, I introduce the NGO around which the narrative is constructed. This introductory chapter will be followed by three chapters looking at the particular experience of the NGO in the local, policy and national domains.

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CHAPTER FIVE

SHAMMO: AN INTRODUCTION

1. INTRODUCTION

The objective of this chapter is to give a general overview of the NGO context where I carried out my fieldwork.' Rather than give a detailed history of Shammo, I have decided to highlight some of the organisation's most significant aspects, moments and persons. To the extent that many of these aspects, moments and persons will reappear in subsequent chapters, this chapter can be seen as a sort of 'anchor chapter' which will hopefully give the reader a glimpse of both the history and setting I myself encountered when I went to Shammo.

In chapters one and two, I argued that the development of NGOs in Bangladesh is highly dependent on both global and national factors. In this chapter, I intend highlighting how the development of Shammo was conditioned by a combination of pressures from different forces including donors, philanthropists, local elite groupings, landless communities, politicians and international lobbying activists. The chapter is historical, contextualised and inductive in its approach and this, it is hoped, goes some way to offering an alternative analysis to the more abstract and essentialised accounts which tend to dominate the NGO literature.

This chapter will reflect the work presented in the first three chapters in another important way. Each of the three initial chapters ended with a series of hypotheses related to the scaling-up question. Shammo represents an example of an NGO which has scaled-up in the sense that it has grown from being a very small, informal, village-based youth group to becoming a significant organisation in terms of size, history and public profile. In order to trace the scaling-up of the organisation, I will focus on three fundamental points. First of all, I will briefly describe the historical background which led to the establishment of Shammo as a formally recognised NGO. Secondly, I will look at the public profile which Shammo generated and identify the main elements which have come to characterise that profile. Finally, I will outline the process whereby Shammo subsequently used its public profile to expand and consolidate its own position within and outside of the development community in Bangladesh.

1 Two main obstacles made the writing of this chapter difficult. First of all, there is only one detailed written source on Shammo. It is a highly descriptive piece of work which has never been translated into English, and Shammo's leaders today feel its accuracy is flawed in some important respects. Secondly, any records Shammo itself possessed were lost in. the late 1980s when local elites who opposed the organisation's activities, attacked and destroyed its office. For this chapter therefore, I have relied heavily on and adapted interviews carried out both in Bangladesh and the UK with different people who have been involved in Shammo's history. 134

Map 1: Research Area

Jamuna River

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, .......

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NATORE p.. Padma River PABNA .SIRAJGANJ TANGAIL

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FARIDPUR

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2. SHAMMO: THE SETTING

Shammo is situated in the Northwest region of Bangladesh. The journey there from the capital Dhaka can take anything from 5 to 8 hours if the weather conditions are favourable and the bus and ferry connections operate smoothly. After crossing both the Padma and Jamuna rivers, most of the buses move in the direction of Pabna. Along that road lies a small market town called Kurigram which is where those going to visit Shammo have to alight. Although Shammo has no building or activity in Kurigram, both bus operators and local residents presume that people from outside, especially foreigners, who get off at Kurigram have come to visit Shammo. It normally takes about 15 minutes to walk from the main market area of Kurigram to The office', which is the term used by most locals to refer to Shammo. Since the road has not been bricked, it inevitably takes longer during the rainy seasons.

The main office of Shammo is situated in a large village called Jaybash which has approximately 3,000 inhabitants. To enter the village, you pass in front of the local graveyard where one particular gravestone immediately catches your eye. It is that of a man called Anwarul, one of the early founders of Shammo, who was tragically killed in a road accident in January of 1992. Shammo's office is the last building at the opposite end of the village and sits adjacent to the local primary school. It is a rather simple building which was in the process of being enlarged when I arrived. The ground floor has a few makeshift offices, a larger multi-purpose meeting room, a dining area and a small office where the organisation's senior staff usually meet. The office of the Executive Director is used as a bedroom for guests when they come. When completed, the upper floor will provide the organisation with a second training cum meeting room, more office space and a few guestrooms.

To the North East of Jaybash lies Boro Bagher Beel 2 which until 1962 was a large lake used for fishing. Then an arrangement for removing the water from the beel was made by digging a canal from the beel to a nearby river. As a result, over 820 acres of lowlying agricultural land emerged which by law was khas land. 3 Although this land should have been made available to landless families, in fact it was quickly taken over by the powerful and influential people of the area. Those who forcibly and illegally occupy the
2

Beets are open water bodies. The area referred to as Boro Bagher Beet actually consists of two separate beets which lie at opposite ends of the same village: Choto Bagher Beel and Boro Bagher Beel. Choto and boro mean small and big respectively. Normally, local people do not distinguish these two beets, but simply refer to them as 'Boro Bagher Beel'. I will follow the same custom in the thesis. Khas land is Government owned land which is managed by the Ministry of land and includes: a) unoccupied lands which cannot be leased out such as roads, embankments and so on, b) unoccupied plots available for settlements, and c) purchased, resumed or abandoned land. (Ahmad 1991: 3). A fuller explanation is offered in chapter seven. 136
3

land in this way are locally referred to as jotedars.4 The origins, philosophy and development of Shammo are inextricably bound up with the struggle to wrestle control of the Boro Bagher Beel from these jotedars.

3. THE ESTABLISHMENT OF SHAMMO

In June of 1976, a group of young people from Jaybash organised a youth club and named it the Jaybash Jubok Samity (JJS). It was the geopolitics of the area which encouraged the youth to set up the club. Although Jaybash was a relatively large village, Kurigram was in fact the economic, social, educational and political centre of the area. This position enabled those staying in Kurigram to exert considerable control over the surrounding villages. The fact that the youth of Kurigram had privileged access to the local sports field and were able to organise different cultural activities through the local high school, only served to intensify the rivalry and jealousy between both villages. The initiative to organise JJS was therefore born of a desire to compete with the privileged youth of Kurigram. In the beginning, the activities and aims of JJS were very modest in that the youth were basically interested in organising different cultural events, games, competitions and so on for themselves.

Like many other samities throughout Bangladesh at that time however, the JJS also undertook some small relief and welfare activities such as repairing houses and giving food to the very poor of their village. One of the most important tasks it took upon itself was to build a small bamboo bridge which would enable people to cross the river and go to Kurigram with greater ease. Since many people travelled to Kurigram on an almost daily basis, it was not difficult to recover the costs of building the bridge by charging a small fee to all those who used it. In order to build up more economic capital, the leaders of JJS then convinced the local matbars (village leaders) to designate a small percentage of the fines they imposed in the village shalishes (village court) for the club's activities. They also leased 1.5 bighas of cultivable land and sold the crop they produced from it. As their income increased, so the club consolidated itself and increased its welfare activities.

In its first two years, the JJS gained the reputation of being a hard working and committed youth group. One of the people to whom the group turned most to for advice was Otul Master, the headmaster of the local high school situated in Kurigram. He was a

Historically, the term jotedar referred to petty landlords and farmers who looked after the property of their landlords or zamindars. Their position enabled them to take advantage of and profit from poorer farmers. Today the term is used only in certain regions of Bangladesh and indicates influential elites who use their position to cheat others especially, but not exclusively, in questions related to land. 137

prominent figure in the area and very much respected not only because of his position as headmaster, but also because of his experience as the director of a branch of an NGO called Shastho which was also situated in Kurigram. 5 He encouraged and advised the youth of JJS to incorporate a wider development perspective into their activities. Thus, in 1978 the organisation changed its name to the Nabo Samaj Samity (NSS) which literally means `the Organisation of the New Community'. Its aim was to transform Jaybash into an ideal and self-reliant village.

The attempt to build Jaybash into an ideal village encouraged NSS to concentrate on activities such as improved farming, road reconstructions, adult literacy, agricultural cooperative ventures and the provision of financial help to poorer people. The group established contacts with the Bangladesh Rural Development Board (BRDB) and organised a Krisi Samabaya Samity (farmer's co-operative) in the village. 5 This enabled them to procure two deep tubewells, lease two ponds for fishing from the Government and obtain a machine for wheat and rice husking. Unfortunately the NSS was not capable of preventing Jaybash from following the trajectory of other villages involved in the IRDP/BRDB programmes. Here too therefore it was the rich and influential villagers who ended up controlling the distribution of and access to the different inputs subsidised by the Government and distributed through the KSS. In an attempt to reverse this trend, members of NSS proposed that the village's rich farmers be given access to water from the deep tubewells only if they were willing to allow poorer farmers to use some of their farming land. Not surprisingly, the elite were not happy with these proposals and quickly began to withdraw their support for the youth group. Undeterred, the NSS pushed ahead and soon began to speak publicly of the need to implement redistributive programmes and to create a more just and equal society. Slowly the relationship between NSS and the elite of Jaybash became antagonistic and then confrontational. For the first time, the youth of Jaybash were confronted with a serious challenge from groups which were better organised and socially more powerful that they were.

As the standoff between the local leaders and NSS set in, the then president of NSS, Kayesh Master7 turned once again to Otul Master for advice. Having himself encouraged NSS to pursue the line they were taking and realising their predicament, Otul sent Kayesh to speak with an old acquaintance of his called Kamal Islam who in turn had contacts with OXFAM-UK in Bangladesh.

The Kurigram Shastho Foundation officially began its work in 1978. Its main focus has always been on different health issues. It is the closest NGO to Shammo geographically and for many years was also one of its most important allies, offering both moral and strategic support. 6 In 1982, the governmental Integrated Rural Development Programme (IRDP) was transformed into the BRDB. The distribution of irrigation equipment and agricultural inputs was normally realised through the Krisi Samabaya Samity (KSS). See chapter two, section 2 for further details of both the IRDP and KSS. 7 The present Executive Director of Shammo.

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Oxfam had arrived in Bangladesh shortly after its Independence and was involved with the early relief and rehabilitation work which development agencies were carrying out. By the late 1970s however, Oxfam had officially endorsed an 'alternative' development approach in which stress was placed on the need to work in partnership with the poor for social justice. 8 The idea of targeting and reaching the poor was an integral part of this new development philosophy and local organisations were supported and encouraged to take a more active role in the implementation of development work. According to Black (1992), Oxfam adopted a blueprint methodology to translate this new policy approach into practice. This methodology had been elaborated by one of its field workers, M.D. Mistry, in his work with tribal communities in Gujurat, India.

By visits and letter, Mistry identified villages where there was an existing nucleus of people wrestling with a common problem: an avaricious trader, who underpaid for farming produce and overcharged for inputs; a group of farmers who had thought about better irrigation but did not know where to start. Often those he corresponded with were young and keen to try something. He helped them to register themselves as formal societies to become eligible for government finance." (Black 1992: 212-213) To a great extent, Kamal Islam followed a very similar approach in Bangladesh. If he came across situations where poorer people were trying to deal with local problems, he would help them formulate ideas and proposals and organise themselves in a better way. His relationship with the youth at Jaybash turned out to be a carbon copy of the Mistry experience.8

After initial discussions with some of the leaders of NSS, Kamal decided to send them to a seminar organised by BRAC for development activists. This was Kayesh's and Shammo's first real exposure to ideas and practices of the wider development community. The basic message of this course was that development entailed organising the weakest and poorest into groups capable of fighting for their own rights and interests. /0 The fact that the seminar addressed the problems of confrontation was relevant for the experience of the NSS in Jaybash. When asked what he remembered of

An important statement reflecting this change in Oxfam's development philosophy can be found in the document Oxfam: An Interpretation, published in 1975. For a detailed account of how Oxfam came to adopt this alternative development approach, see Black (1992: 177-202). 9 The parallels between Kamal and Mistry's work are in fact quite striking. Kamal himself identified his development strategy in the following way: "we should locate progressive intelligent, sincere and honest young men through our contacts in the Universities and in different localities and groom them up to work in their own areas. We should help them to be aware of the problems of society and introduce them to the idea of social development. This may be done by sending them to different successful project (sic) (Shammo was developed exactly in this way)" (Source not referenced to safeguard anonymity). 19 In 1983, BRAC published a small book called The Net which highlighted the importance of understanding, identifying and mobilising around sites of oppression and struggle in rural Bangladesh. The book offers an important insight into the philosophy behind the development seminars and trainings which BRAC (and other NG05) were organising in Bangladesh around this time. See also BRAC (1979, 1984).

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that first seminar, Kayesh once told me:

what we were being taught encouraged us a great deal. It was almost as if the course had been organised specifically to tackle the problems we were encountering in Jaybash. However we also became aware that similar problems were being experienced throughout the country. We were advised that the only way to deal with confrontation was to become stronger by increasing our members and unified by organising ourselves properly. The seminar emphasised time and time again the importance of organisation and unity. On returning to Jaybash, the leaders set about trying to put into practice what they had learnt during the course. They began by organising some of the poor people in a more formal way. Their first semi& consisted of five landless labourers, but soon others began to join. Such was the enthusiasm and commitment of the youth that by 1980, they had managed to organise 50 groups of landless farmers in Jaybash and nearby villages. The samity meetings mostly took place at night and centred on different practical problems the members were experiencing in their day to day lives. Almost inevitably, questions of employment security and access to savings facilities arose and no matter how often the groups discussed these issues, they could never find practical solutions. Realising this, the leaders of NSS went once again to Otul and asked him to persuade Kamal to come and visit the samities to see if he could come up with any ideas or suggestions. When Kamal came to visit Jaybash, he was impressed by both the quantity and quality of the samities that had been formed. At the end of his visit, he made three suggestions to Kayesh. First of all, he should prepare and submit a project proposal to a donor agency. Secondly, he should apply to have the organisation formally registered. Thirdly, he and other leaders should attend further development-orientated trainings and seminars.

In 1982, after long discussions and debates, NSS decided to move its focus away from 'community development' and concentrate on working exclusively with and for the poor. Although most members supported this shift, some (related to disgruntled elite groups) objected and eventually left the organisation. Later we will come across one of these early dissenters, a young man named Jalil who had been one of the founder members of the original JJS and the NSS. It was also decided that the organisation would seek formal registration under a name which would reflect the new aims and objectives adopted by the members. In the end, the members agreed to call the new organisation `Shammo'. In Bengali, Shammo means equality.

In January of 1983, the Department of Social Welfare granted formal registration to Shammo and in July of the same year, Shammo received its first grant from DONOR A for one thousand one hundred and sixteen pounds.

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4. THE BUILDING OF A PUBLIC PROFILE

Pabnar poth onusoron koro, khas jomi dokhol koro

(Following the example of Pabna, take possession of khas land)

This phrase was used as a slogan in a mass gathering of poor people which took place in November of 1998 in a small town situated to the South West of Bangladesh. The meeting had been organised by the South Bengal Land Reform and Development Network, a coalition of 32 NGOs working in the district of Khulna, to protest against an incident in which, it was alleged, police had used excessive force. Around mid-1998, different landless groups had organised a procession to demand that the khas land of Tarapur Beel be given to the poor and that measures be taken to prevent the local elite from illegally occupying the same land. During the procession however, the police opened fire and as a result, one landless member and a small child were killed, and several others were injured. The mass gathering of November had been convoked not only to protest against the way the poor had been treated, but also to make a public statement that the poor of the samities had no intention of giving up their fight for khas resources. The slogan used to transmit their message of defiance evoked the example of the 'Pabnar p0th'. 11 This 'Pabnar poth' is a direct reference to Shammo's experience in mobilising the poor to take control of the Boro Bagher Beel.

In effect, over the years a public profile has been constructed around Shammo's struggle for khas land which poor people, NGOs and donors alike acknowledge. For example, while visiting informal groups (not NG0s) of landless communities in Tangai1, 12 I myself heard them speak of the `Shammor poth'; and in another meeting of NGO activists in Pabna, I heard the leader of one NGO refer to the 'Boro Bagher poth'.

The `poth' or profile which Shammo offers evolves around a struggle for the khas land of Boro Bagher Beel. Although land disputes are part and parcel of daily life all over rural Bangladesh (and now no less in urban centres), the level and degree of confrontation over khas land is particularly high. Two reasons explain this. First of all, like all land in Bangladesh, khas land is an important and valuable resource with both material and nonmaterial significance. 13 Secondly, khas land is a resource which has in theory to be distributed by the Government. While legally the poor are entitled to khas land, in

11 Poth in Bangla means track, path or route. Thus Pabnar poth refers to the particular method or practice adopted at Pabna. 12 Tangail is not that far from Dhaka and quite a distance from Jaybash. 13 The non-material significance of land is captured perfectly in the following statement: "Those who have no land have no peace" (recorded in White 1992: 56).

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practice, elite groups or jotedars often intervene in the distribution process to divert the much sought after resources in their direction. The reason why elite groups can intervene in the distribution process is because, as I explained in chapter three, they have connections with influential actors and are in a position to make these relationships work to their advantage. The level of competition over khas resources is so intense that Jansen (1987: 228) noted the emergence of a new entrepreneurial group (consisting of both government officials and private actors) whose main task was to collect information on the status and security of khas land for richer people interested in buying or securing it. Shammo's poth is basically about reversing this pattern of distribution and ensuring that khas land is given to the poor themselves. Two main dimensions characterise Shammo's 'public profile': a) strength in unity, and b) conflict and persecution. Below I will expand on two main incidents which help illustrate these dimensions.

4.1 Shammo 1983-1985: Strength in Unity

In the shade no longeri4

In August of 1983, Shammo lodged 18 legal cases in the court of the Additional Deputy Commissioner (ADC) Revenue 18 against Saidur Chairman, who was both the Chairman of the Union Council 16 and the leader of the local Awami League Party. This was one of the first defiant actions taken by the samity members against the jotedar groups. Like many of the other established elite in the area, Saidur Chairman had used his sociopolitical position and connections to take advantage of a Land Reform programme which the first Government of Bangladesh (Awami League) had introduced in the early 19705.17 As part of its commitment to an egalitarian and socialist society, the Government introduced important land reform legislations 18 which provided inter alia for the lowering of the maximum limit of retainable land to 100 bighas, 19 and the redistribution of surplus land among households owning less than 3 bighas of arable land. Since Saidur

14 This comment about Shammo is taken from donor files which are not referenced to safeguard anonymity. 15 The ADC (Revenue) assists the District Commissioner in the administration of land at the district level. 16 The Union Council is a local administrative unit with elected members. 17 Chapter seven offers further details of the history and experience of khas land distribution. 18 The two most important pieces of legislation were the Landholding (Limitation) Order and the State Acquisition and Tenancy (amendment) Order. Both were issued in 1972. 18 The 33.3 acres ceiling had been imposed previously in the East Bengal State Acquisition Act of 1950 but raised to 375 acres during the era of Ayub Khan.

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Chairman was an important local political authority, he made arrangements with the local revenue officers to misappropriate a significant amount of the khas land at Boro Bagher Bee!.

During the investigation into the 18 cases lodged by Shammo, evidence was presented to the ADC (Revenue) showing how Saidur Chairman had illegally misappropriated 56 bighas of land2 for himself by allocating it to people (his relatives or allies) who had more than 3 bighas of land, or using false names or the names of people who had already died to register the land, or even recording land in the names of the children of the local elites who were still attending school. The evidence against Saidur Chairman was overwhelming and irrefutable. Sensing that the ADC (Revenue) would not be supporting him, Saidur Chairman set about frustrating the whole investigation. First of all, he filed a petition in the Court of the District Judge arguing that the ADC (Revenue) had neither the authority nor the competence to judge on a land registration which had been sanctioned by the Government. Secondly, as the following excerpt from a donor report shows, he used his own political authority to discriminate against and break down the growing unity of Shammo members:

The chairman is not recommending cases from the Shammo supported groups for bank loans. He has stopped providing relief under the vulnerable groups feeding programme to those associated with Shammo. Samity members are not taken for Food For Works Programmes in the area. And to weaken Shammo and its activities, the vested interest group has managed to get Kayesh Master, the key organiser of Shammo, transferred from his present place of posting in the primary school to a place six miles away from Jaybash. (Source not referenced to safeguard anonymity) The confrontation between the landless members organised by Shammo and Saidur Chairman consisted therefore of numerous strategies and counter-strategies, devised to out-manoeuvre each other. Although I intend looking more closely at these strategies in the following chapters, here it is possible to identify a basic pattern or dynamic which emerges in most of them. Thus, while Shammo sought to advance its agenda by increasing its membership and mobilising greater unity, Saidur Chairman (and other rivals of Shammo) turned to his privileged relationship with the local bureaucratic, political and judiciary elites to break down that same unity and strength.21

A defining moment in the struggle between the two groups took place on the 10 th of June 1985. When Shammo realised that the ADC (Revenue) was generally sympathetic to its case against Saidur Chairman, it applied to him for a yearly lease on a further 203 acres
The khas land was to be distributed in plots of 3 bighas. Each of the 18 cases therefore contested 3 bighas of land, making a total of 56 bighas. In fact, although the ADC (Revenue) had indicated at the very start of the proceedings that Shammo's allegations were justified and correct, Saidur Chairman made so many personal appeals through his own contacts and legal objections through the judiciary, that it took the courts well over one year to finally reach a decision in favour of Shammo.
21 20

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of khas land from Boro Bagher Beel. When the ADC (Revenue) approved its application, Shammo organised different landless groups to farm the land in a co-operative way. By securing such a vast amount of land, Shammo's members found themselves in direct confrontation with an even greater number of local elites. All of these elites began to unite and work together to protect their interests. Under the leadership of Saidur Chairman, they filed legal cases with both the ADC (Revenue) of Pabna and the Divisional Commissioner of Rajshahi asking for the leases given to Shammo to be immediately cancelled. When however they realised that they could not persuade the ADC (Revenue) or the Divisional Commissioner to overturn the original decision, they began to turn more and more to the use of violence as a means of breaking the unity and strength of the samities. This new strategy intensified towards the beginning of June 1985 when there were daily reports 22 of gangs organised by the elites attacking samity meetings, destroying or stealing the crop grown on the leased land, moving around freely with guns and illegal weapons, and organising public meetings against Shammo.

In a meeting to discuss the new strategy of the jotedars and devise an appropriate counter-strategy, the landless members and the staff of Shammo decided that they had little choice but to openly confront the elite-led groups. They therefore issued a public warning to the jotedars of their intention to take possession of the beel on the 10 th of June, and openly defied them to fight for the beel once and for all. Both sides prepared for the confrontation by seeking to increase their numbers as much as possible. News soon spread that both the jotedars and the samities were to engage in a 'winner-takes-all' battle.23

Early in the morning of June the 10 th , about 800 people belonging to the jotedar group descended on the bee!, while a further 500 hired lathials24 stood further back ready to attack as reinforcements. This by all accounts was an impressive show of strength. What the jotedars had not anticipated however was that at the same time around 10,000 landless peasants had gathered at the office of Shammo. Relatives, friends, sympathisers and members of other local NGOs or peasant groups had all come to offer their support to the landless samity members. When the jotedar group realised that they had been so decisively outnumbered, they began to slowly retreat from the position they had occupied at the centre of the bee/. 25 By this time however, the landless were determined to 'teach the jotedars a lesson', and so they continued to strategically push the opposing groups back as far as possible. At one point, a reporter for a local

22 This information was taken from various reports, newspaper clippings and letters which I found in the donor archives I accessed.
23

Some of those who eventually took part in this battle still refer to it as juddhota (the war). Lath! in Bengali means a stick. Lathials are hired gang-men skilled in fighting with sticks.

24

25 The jot edars had raised a symbolic flag in the middle of the bee/ to signal that it belonged to them.

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newspaper came between the two groups and pleaded with them to come to an agreement so as to avoid further danger. After long and tense discussions, the landless samity members agreed not to continue their attack, only if the following conditions were met:

a) the jotedars would be the first to abandon the bee!; b) the landless members would be allowed to remove the elite group's flag from the bee/ and raise one of their own; c) the landless members would be allowed to occupy and farm all the khas land which had been legally leased to them.

Given the circumstances, the jotedar group had little choice but to accept the conditions and leave.

The 10th of June is symbolic in the history of Shammo. Songs have been written about that day and endless versions of the event have been recounted by samity members eager to underline how brave they personally had been that day. The children of Shammo members have been taught all the details of the incident and some, as young as 15 years of age, even swore to me that they had been 'in the first line of attack' that morning! The whole event therefore has become part of the institutional memory of what Shammo is all about. And in fact, whenever there is a big gathering of Shammo (cultural events, celebrations, rallies and so on), the local youth of Jaybash invariably organise a natok (play or drama) which narrates the whole plot. In this way, the secret of the 'Pabnar', `Shammor' or 'Boro Bagher' poth (i.e. that in unity, the poor can defeat the strength of elite based groups) is remembered, relived and passed on from one generation to another.

4.2 Shammo 1985-1990: Conflict and Persecution

The landless should not be allowed to see the sunlight26

The 10 June confrontation underlined both the numerical strength of the poor, as well as their capacity to resist the terrorist tactics of the elites. Rather than bring an end to outright hostilities however, the confrontation simply forced both groups to look for new ways of strengthening their strategies. For the powerful elite of the area, the arrival of Rashid Talukdar on the scene proved to be especially propitious.

26 This statement is attributed to the local District Commissioner in a pronouncement he made about Shammo and their members (Source not referenced to safeguard anonymity). 145

Rashid Talukdary was an activist for the ruling Jatiyo Party and had returned to the area to supervise the national referendum which had been organised to test public support for Ershad's presidency. 28 The nature of his task meant that he had to contact and make alliances with local influential leaders. These leaders in turn could expect, according to their strength and influence, to benefit from Talukdars connections and access to patronage flows. It comes as no surprise therefore that the elites who were trying to destroy Shammo were quick to woo and offer their support to Rashid Talukdar for he was in a perfect position to help them in their fight against the organisation.

In 1986 and after one year of courting local elites, Rashid Talukdar decided to test his own political fortune and stood as the local Jatiyo Party candidate in the parliamentary elections. Given that Shammo had not publicly supported his candidacy and the jotedars did, once elected 29 Rashid Talukdar used his position to exact revenge and directly attack the organisation by inter alia a) making several false cases against Shammo staff, b) applying to have the organisation's registration removed, c) creating parallel NGOs and appointing jotedar leaders as directors, and d) attempting to cancel the lease of khas land allotted to Shammo members. Although these were not new strategies, the fact that someone as influential and politically shrewd as Rashid Talukdar was actively involved meant that the stakes had been significantly raised. Police, judges, bureaucrats, political leaders, ministers and even the President himself were now involved together to some degree in the struggle for the Boro Bagher Beel. In one memo, DONOR A admitted that the complexity of the situation had intensified with the election of Rashid Talukdar.

Abdul Kayesh, Director of Shammo and I have discussed the issues very thoroughly. We know we are playing a risky game. (Source not referenced to safeguard anonymity) The extent of the risks involved would soon become abundantly ciear.

One morning in May of 1987, a few children were playing marbles together in the village immediately adjacent to Jaybash, called Kanchanapur. Among the children were the nephew of Nurul Member, one of the ringleaders of Rashid Talukdar's local followers and hence an ally of the jotedar group, and the son of Mahbub Ullah, a leader of one of the local Shammo samities. During the game, a scuffle broke out among the children and

27 Rashid Talukdar was born in a thana adjacent to the one where Shammo was working. He had been working in the Chief Marshall Law and Administration Office in Dhaka. At the time of his return, Shammo had started organising samities in the thana where he was born. 28 This referendum took place on 21 March 1985 and was one of many attempts by Ershad to gain political and social legitimacy for his regime. 29 Elections under Ershad were meticulously engineered in such a way that his party's victory was guaranteed. Vote rigging was but one of the common methods adopted to secure electoral victory (Jalal 1995: 118). Although officially Rashid Talukdar secured over 90% of the available votes, people of the area say that in 1986 a very low percentage of the electorate actually turned out to vote.

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this gradually boiled over into a quarrel involving the adult members of the children's respective bads (homesteads). As the quarrel continued, different supporters from the jotedar group and samities gathered to support their respective men. With this, tension increased considerably. Luckily however, both parties managed somehow to reach an agreement and at that, a potentially dangerous situation was successfully diffused.

However a short while later, a number of Shammo members (who knew nothing of the quarrel which had taken place) were walking by Kanchanapur on their way home after working in the paddy fields. When Nurul Member's group (about 40 men in total) saw them, they decided to attack. On hearing of this, those Shammo members who had originally gathered to support Mahbub Ullah, rushed back to help their colleagues who were being attacked. In the ensuing struggle, members of both groups were hurt. Mahbub Ullah himself was seriously injured and his house was set on fire by some of Nurul Member's men.

Rumours however got out that Mahbub Ullah had actually died in the attack. Realising the trouble he was in if a samity member had been killed, Nurul Member went immediately to the police and formally accused the leaders of Shammo (not present at the fight) of having killed in the fight a member of his own village faction called Youssouf Ali. Since I do not believe it is either appropriate or necessary for me to comment on the claims and counter-claims of this case, 3 I limit myself here to stating that there are many people familiar with the case who believe Nurul Member's role in the whole affair was very sinister. The following statement, taken from a report of an independent and reputable organisation specialising in Human Rights issues 31 relates the story I myself heard from many other sources, i.e. that Youssouf Ali did not die in the fight:

At the time of the investigation about this killing there was a discussion with the wife of Youssouf Ali. An air of mystery was created in the mental condition and the talks or statements of Youssouf All's wife. An eye witness, not willing to disclose name [sic] said that he saw Youssouf All to [sic] walk about in the house of Nurul Member one hour after the clash. But after coming of police [sic] he heard the news of Youssouf Ali's death. Moreover, none of his wife or his sons was present [sic] at the time of Youssouf Ali's death. (Source not referenced to safeguard anonymity)

30

An appeal on this case is still pending at the High Court.

31 DONOR A was among those who asked for an independent investigation to be carried out. Although they were understandably worried that members and staff of Shammo were being accused of murder, it is clear from different files that they never doubted Shammo's innocence in the whole incident. The investigation was carried out between the 9 th and 16th of June.

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While Nurul Member specifically accused certain individuals of having murdered Youssouf Ali, he also mentioned in his statement that other people had also been involved. Since however these 'others' were not identified, it meant that people related to Shammo were being arrested almost randomly and taken into custody for questioning. Furthermore, through his own connections (and here the support of Rashid Talukdar was certainly useful), Nurul Member also managed to have a police camp set up around his house to protect himself and his people. When Shammo's male staff and members realised that they were being arrested randomly and that there was a police camp in situ protecting Nurul Member, almost all of them fled their homes and villages in fear. With most of the adult males gone or in hiding, Nurul Member and his followers were free to let loose a reign of terror throughout the area. The experience of the police camps is as engraved in the memory of Shammo's staff and members as the victory of June 10 th is. Hence, even today when people speak of the time of the police camps, some of them cry remembering the violence, abuse, torture, theft, harassment, arrests and general insecurity they were subjected to. Some men had to wait months before they could return to their homes.

The murder of Youssouf Ali had a number of consequences for Shammo as an organisation. First of all, its activities were stopped and many of the samity members left the groups for fear of recrimination or arrest. Secondly, forty two of the organisation's staff and members were eventually charged with the murder of Youssouf Ali. All forty two were arrested and spent some time in jail (ranging from three to eight months) before being released on bail. In the final judgement pronounced by the District Court judge however, only six of the forty two (four senior staff members and two group leaders) were found guilty of murder. These all received a seven-year jail sentence and were each ordered to pay a fine of 10,000 taka. An appeal was immediately lodged with the High Court in Dhaka and in September of 1991 the six men were granted bail. The appeal is still pending at the High Court today.

The breakdown of its activities, the loss of many of its members and the imprisonment of its leaders were not the only uncertainties which Shammo had to face in these times. Locally, the jotedars were able to recover some of the ground lost in the mid-1980s and began to impose once again their own authority in the area surrounding Boro Bagher Beel. Meanwhile, those donors who were supporting Shammo could not obtain the necessary government clearance to continue funding the development activities of the organisation. Finally, there was a renewed effort to have Shammo officially de-registered on the basis that it was an extremist and terrorist organisation. 32 The most important actor and the common denominator behind this attack on Shammo was undoubtedly

From 1985 to 1986, a total of 56 cases were brought against members or staff of Shammo It would therefore not have been difficult to sustain the argument that Shammo was a terrorist organisation.

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Rashid Talukdar. By drawing on his contacts and networks with different personnel of the national and local state machinery, Rashid Talukdar tipped the scales back in favour of the jotedars.

The experiences surrounding the murder of Youssouf Ali have become a second point of reference in Shammo's 'public profile'. In this way, the Pabnar', `Shammot or `Boro Bagher' poth is a story not only of strength in numbers and unity, but also about learning to cope with persistent adversity and persecution.

5. USING THE PUBLIC PROFILE: SHAMMO TODAY

There are three reasons why Shammo did not in fact completely succumb to the incessant pressure of Rashid Talukdar and the jotedars. First of all, their donor agency played an important advocacy role by securing both national and international publicity for the Boro Bagher Beel case. While contacts were being made nationally with influential politicians, bureaucrats and civil society leaders, the donor agency also used its contacts in Europe to publish information of Shammo's struggle. Secondly, many NGOs in Bangladesh rallied together to protest against the oppression and terror which had been allowed to develop in the area surrounding Boro Bagher Beel. Their support took many different forms and included organising local campaigns, strengthening the donor's lobbying efforts in Dhaka, and offering Shammo financial assistance to help cover their legal costs. and crucially, most of the landless groups of Shammo continued to defy the jotedars by meeting informally and often secretly to devise ways of defending their interests. Although their unity and conviction had been severely tested, the resolve of the samity members had not been completely destroyed.

The national context was however to influence once again the balance of power in the struggle for Boro Bagher Beel. In yet another attempt to consolidate his political position, President Ershad appointed Chairmen to the country's District Councils in 1988. For the area where Shammo was working, he selected one of his own relatives, Komor Mollah, who had already served the Jatiyo Party as a Member of Parliament. Although Rashid Talukdar and Komor Mollah belonged to the same political party, both men considered each other competitors rather than colleagues. In fact, it was this rivalry which encouraged Komor Mollah to approach the leadership of Shammo. He made a number of visits to those imprisoned in Pabna and promised to help in their fight to secure bail.34 The relationship between Komor Mollah and Shammo was however never really allowed
This financial support was vital since, as I mentioned earlier, donors were not able to obtain the necessary governmental clearance to provide Shammo with funds.
34

According to Kayesh, Komor Mollah's intervention helped his application for bail.

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to develop because in 1990, President Ershad finally relinquished power after years of mobilised protest against his autocratic rule. Since it was the excessive corruption of his military regime which had most infuriated people (Jalal 1995), little social or political sympathy were subsequently offered to those like Rashid Talukdar who had actively campaigned for the Jatiyo Party and were renowned as corrupt politicians.35 Consequently, in the elections to the fifth Parliament which took place on the 27 th of February 1991, Rashid Talukdar's fall from power was formally sanctioned and the jotedars around Boro Bagher Beel were deprived of an important source of protection and patronage.

When Kayesh was released on bail in 1991, he knew that he had to take advantage of the vacuum created by Rashid Talukdar's fall to strengthen once again the organisational unity and influence of Shammo. From the day he left jail until today, Kayesh has deliberately and strategically divided his time equally between Jaybash and Dhaka in order to strengthen Shamnno's revival and long-term security.

5.1 Expansion and Capacity Building

In mid-1991, two organisational changes occurred within Shammo's DONOR A. First of all, senior level staff changes were made and secondly, the organisation began to reevaluate its general policy in Bangladesh. The policy re-evaluation was fuelled by an increasing worry that the donor agency was supporting a significant number of small NGOs committed to 'radical causes' but not necessarily producing effective development results. short, DONOR A, like many other development agencies, 37 wanted to move towards a more pragmatic development approach in which stress was placed on effectively servicing clients. Questions were therefore raised in this process about the wisdom of funding NGOs which were not really delivering anything to their members.

All of these questions threatened Shammo in a particular way. First of all, it was a small

35 In fact many leaders of the Jatiyo Party were either arrested or went into hiding after the Party's demise. Ershad himself was accused of an array of criminal offences and imprisoned. 36 DONOR A had by this time built up and were financially supporting about 50 small 'radical' NGOs like Shammo all over Bangladesh. DONOR A was of course not alone in re-evaluating its policy position. Most of the bigger NGOs had become less vocal on politically difficult issues like khas land distribution and had opted instead for the more practical development agenda of delivering services. This trend, as the final sections of the first four chapters indicate, was also witnessed globally. Rutherford (1995) gives an excellent detailed account of the motivations and processes through which one leading NGO in Bangladesh moved from an initial radical and confrontational development position to one in which the focus was on the effective delivery of credit.
37

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NGO committed to a radical political issue and had always been completely dependent on its donor. Not only was this dependence a financial one for Shammo also relied heavily on the social-moral protection of particular members of DONOR A's staff. precariousness of the situation was acknowledged by the donor agency. While reviewing its relationship with Shammo, it admitted that it had:

not sustainably enabled but rather acted as a somewhat unreliable patron whose support on the khas land issue became substantially less when staff changes introduced a different composition of interests within [name of donor omitted] country office. (Source not referenced to safeguard anonymity) The person who in the early 1990s took over as DONOR A's Country Representative in Bangladesh (and was responsible for overseeing the restructuration programme),39 recalls thinking of Shammo as a 'hybrid type of organisation' struggling to integrate its 'radical movement ethos' with the imperatives of robust development management. While Shammo had obvious campaigning efficiency, its level of management effectiveness was considered low. The overall view especially of the new staff at the DONOR A's office was that Shammo was either unwilling or incapable of reconciling both these aspects. As a result, the unreliable patron took the decision in 1993 to terminate its funding relationship with an organisation they had practically brought to life.

Shammo however had already started looking for other potential donors before this decision to terminate funding had been made. Consequently, in the same year (1993) DONOR A made its last grant of 21 /ac taka, 49 a new donor agency (DONOR B) made its first grant of 18 lac taka. Between 1994 and 1997, DONOR B replaced DONOR A and became the sole funder of Shammo's core development programme, immediately raising its annual grant to 25 /ac taka. According to the then Country Representative of DONOR A, "with the increased financial commitment of [name of donor omitted], Shammo definitely became one of the serious regional development players in Bangladesh."'" For its 1998-2000 project, Shammo succeeded in organising joint funding for its development activities with DONOR B and another two international donor agencies. Each of the three organisations committed 1 koti taka.42 38 In fact, many people familiar with Shammo's history refer to the organisation as 'DONOR A's baccha' (i.e. DONOR A's baby).
as This whole section has benefited greatly from discussions with the person himself.
40

One lac equals one hundred thousand. From an interview which took place in January 1999, London.

41

One koti equals ten million. This means that in the space of 4 to 5 years, Shammo's annual budget for core development programmes has more than doubled. On top of this, Shammo has since 1993 also received grants from other donors for programmes not included in its core development project such as its networking programme and democracy programme, as well as grants from governmental sources for a primary non-formal education programme and a homes loan programme.

42

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Increased funding has enabled Shammo to diversify its development activities. 43 Thus in its 1998-2000 project, Shammo's development programme consists of seven main components: land and agricultural reforms, institutional building, human development, gender, health, training and research, and productive activities for employment creation. Aware perhaps that this development programme may appear at odds with the organisation's initial 'single issue' focus, Shammo's Executive Director explains In his forwarding letter to the project that:

[these] changes should not be interpreted as changes in the organisation's core philosophy. In a paradoxical way, they reflect Shammo's unchanging commitment to address and challenge the context of rural poverty in Bangladesh [...]. For this reason, the proposed plan and budget embodies principles of continuity and change" (Source not referenced to safeguard anonymity). At the same time, Shammo also embarked on a wider programme of institutional extension and development. In order to extend the organisation, contacts had been made in other areas where at least three conditions were met: a) the landless groups expressed an interest in becoming members of Shammo, b) available khas resources had been initially identified, and c) no other NGO was working locally on khas issues. While in 1993 Shammo had approximately 300 samity groups, by 1997 that number had risen to 600, by 1998 to 1,100 and by 1999 to 1,980. According to its latest expanded project proposal, Shammo hopes that by the year 2003 "148,500 members will be organised in 5,940 groups in 393 villages in 44 unions under 10 thanas in two districts" (Source not referenced to safeguard anonymity).

From the perspective of institutional development, Shammo began in the early 1990s to formalise the organisation's structure, management and operational frameworks. One of the unique characteristics of Shammo is that the trustees of the organisation have always been the landless themselves. This is unusual in the Bangladesh context where NGOs tend to have (and sometimes compete for) boards of trustees comprising socially influential actors. To date, 44 Shammo has continued with the notion of consolidating and institutionalising its board of landless member trustees. The present organisational structure of Shammo is therefore as follows:

43 One of the doubts expressed by Donor A was that Shammo would not be able to effectively manage a sophisticated process of diversification and extension.
" Recently Shammo's Executive Director has been considering the idea of approaching some of his contacts in Dhaka to see if they would become trustees or advisors to Shammo. 152

Organisation Chart 1: Shammo's Executive Committee

1
Samity Samity Samity

I
One General Committee I 15 Ward Committees

I
SHAMMO's EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE

Every samity elects a representative to the general committee, the members of which in turn elect 15 ward committees (there are 8 female and 7 male committees). The ward committees are organised in such a way that all the areas where Shammo is working are equally represented. The number of members in each ward committee may therefore vary. Each ward committee then elects its own chairperson for a period of two years and these become ex officio members of the organisation's Executive Committee. Finally, the general committee members directly elect the chairperson, secretary and cashier of the Executive Committee from among their 15 members.

While the Executive Committee is in theory responsible for the overall running of the organisation, the actual formulation and execution of programmes is carried out by Shammo's staff:* As the organogram below indicates, the link between the trustees and the staff is maintained and institutionalised around the figures of the organisation's Executive Committee Chairperson and the Executive Director. While the latter is a nonvoting, member-secretary of the Executive Committee, the former is a full member of the organisation's senior level management structure.

45 When I carried out fieldwork, Shammo had 197 full-time staff and around 300 'volunteers' who were employed in the government sponsored non-formal primary schools.

153

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5.2 External Links and Networks

Dhaka not only offered Kayesh access to funding, it was also a place where he could build up strategic alliances and networks with other important actors. Shammo had learnt through the bitter experience when Rashid Talukdar was prominent in their area that these links were critical and that political isolation or detachment was a form of institutional suicide. In Dhaka, the first links Kayesh wanted to nurture were with the wider NGO community.

In chapter two, I outlined part of the trajectory taken by the NGO community in the early 1990s. Following the resignation of President Ershad and the subsequent electoral victory of BNP in 1991, the NGO community set about trying to legitimise its position socially and politically. Its active participation in the monitoring of the 1991 parliamentary elections, as well as its role in the 1991 cyclone disaster helped in some way to promote a more positive profile for NGOs in Bangladesh. At the same time, two important shifts were occurring within the NGO community itself which were to affect its profile and standing. First of all, ADAB was consolidating its position as the co-ordinating body of development activities in Bangladesh by increasing its membership and opening chapter networks throughout the country. different ADAB members were also beginning to build alliances with each other to deal more effectively with specific issues. Since 1990 therefore NGO networks have been set up to cover a wide range of issues including micro credit, land, sanitation, literacy, women's rights, child labour and the environment. These processes of internal co-ordination and co-operation have all served to strengthen the social prestige and political leverage of the NGO community in Bangladesh. As I have already stated in chapter two however, this emerging situation carries with it both opportunities and risks for the NGO community.

For Kayesh however, the opportunities the wider NGO community offered far outweighed the risks. Furthermore, the task of creating links with key actors of the NGO community proved not to be too difficult. On the one hand, some of those serving on the ADAB Executive Committee in the early 1990s had been very sympathetic towards Shammo's cause and were personally involved in the mobilisations against the setting up of police camps around Boro Bagher Beel in 1987. On the other hand, Shammo's 'public profile' had by this time developed in such a way that the NGO community itself stood to gain by being associated with the more radical aspects of the history of Shammo. The significance of Shammo's profile was increased even more when in 1994, it managed to have a further 320 acres of the Boro Bagher Beel permanently registered in the names of some of its samity members. Not only was Shammo a radical organisation, but it was proving to be a strategically effective one.

As of 1996, there were 14 chapter networks with plans to establish a further 3 or 4 networks (ADAB 1996c).

46

155

As its prominence increased and as Kayesh spent more time lobbying different actors in Dhaka, Shammo became a more active player in the strategies of the wider NGO community. From the mid-1990s, Kayesh has therefore been much more closely involved in the work of ADAB and has played a prominent role at its decision-making level. He has also been asked to officially represent the NGO community on a number of committees which have involved government or donor officials. Both Kayesh and Shammo had come a considerable distance from the days of the Jaybash Jubok Samity.

Further space has been created by or for Shammo through establishing or participating in subnational coalitions and networks. Thus Kayesh himself has been influential in organising one coalition of NGOs from the North West of Bangladesh specialising in group formation and savings projects and another network of NGOs dealing almost exclusively with land and khas resources. His contacts and prominence are such that in all of these networks, Kayesh is either the chairperson or the president. When I carried out my fieldwork, Kayesh and Shammo were the most prominent development actors in probably the whole of the North West of Bangladesh. It was Kayesh who had the most contacts in Dhaka and importantly, the right kind of contacts with both the leadership of the NGO community and the country's political and administrative leaders.

While Kayesh insists that his decision to create alliances was born from his intention to protect Shammo's interests and members, he also realises and today emphasises the fact that networks and alliances help promote the development agendas he and Shammo consider important. This recalls Covey's (1995) argument that the real significance of NGO policy alliances lies in getting and keeping issues on the public agenda rather than fulfilling immediate needs. It is through the former that the range of voices engaged in the political process increases and so, by implication, the political space within which to manoeuvre expands (Covey 1995: 167). Kayesh is thus convinced that the presence of Shammo in these coalitions and networks has helped create political space in which the question of access to khas resources can be introduced to different audiences and in different contexts. To illustrate this, he offered me the following three examples.

First of all, he claims that the more prominent role he has played within ADAB has meant that the NGO community is now talking more publicly about the development value of khas resources. When ADAB sent a statement to all the political parties before the 1996 national elections outlining the programmes they felt a future Government should adopt, 47 they underlined on more than one occasion the strategic significance of land reforms and khas land

This statement is known as the 'Citizen's Charter'. It is an important document in which ADAB outlines a broad set of development proposals which are based roughly on the charter adopted at the Poverty Convention of 1 January 1996 (Trinamul 1996), and it encourages political parties seeking election to incorporate them into their respective manifestos. For further details see Devine (1996b).

47

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distribution in alleviating poverty (ADAB 1996a: 5). The inclusion of these statements is particularly striking since, as I have already stated earlier, the development community has throughout the 1990s been generally moving away from 'radical' agendas about khas struggles to more 'service delivery' centred approaches.

Secondly, Kayesh also claims to have mobilised new actors around the khas issue. Thus for example, he played a facilitating role in the establishment of two important regional NGO networks committed to khas issues: the Syhlet Land Reform Network with 18 member NG0s, and the South Bengal Land Reform and Development Network with 32 member NG0s. As I mentioned earlier, it was the latter of these networks which used the Pabnar poth' slogan to animate their own mobilisation strategies.

Finally, Kayesh also believes that the Government itself has publicly responded to the proposals and demands formulated by the NGO community around the khas question. The mass gathering of landless people demanding access to the Tarapur Beel alluded to earlier in the chapter, was attended not only by some of the most prominent leaders of the NGO community, but also by the Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina herself. Kayesh is quick to highlight how the Prime Minister's decision to attend the gathering was partly in response to the persistent and intense NGO-led grassroots mobilisation efforts.48

6. CONCLUSION

My intention in this chapter was not to give an exhaustive account of the history of Shammo, but to offer the reader an overview of the organisation's history and current status. I identified and used two processes to structure this introduction: the building of Shammo's public profile, and the subsequent use made of that same profile. The inference of the chapter is that Shammo is indeed a 'successful NGO'. Its success however lies predominantly in its ability to organise and mobilise a number of constituencies including state agents, the wider NGO community, donors and naturally their own samity members, around the agendas they wished to prioritise. Two points have to be made here about this statement. First of all, it runs counter to much of the NGO literature, which tends to focus on socio-economic indicators to measure or evaluate the 'success' of NG0s. From this perspective therefore, the fact that I attempt to link 'NG success' to processes of 'coalition and constituency building' addresses what David Lewis (1994) has correctly identified as a 'significant gap in the field of NGO evaluation'. The

48 The presence of political and civil society leaders at NGO meetings is now used by many NGOs as an indication that they can successfully mobilise effective campaigns. In a similar vein, Rutherford (1995) found that some NGOs use the frequency of marches as an indicator of quality group formation work (Rutherford 1995: 18).

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statement however is consistent with my attempt to create a particular 'vantage point' (see chapter four) from which to look at the NGO community in Bangladesh. Secondly, the suggestion I make here about Shammo's success is only a tentative and introductory one. In the three chapters which follow, I intend both identifying in more detail the different alliances and relationships Shammo builds, and exploring how these different relationships are deployed to strengthen the overall position of Shammo and its members.

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CHAPTER SIX

SHAMMO: KNITTING NEW FORMS OF PATRONAGE

1. INTRODUCTION

In the previous chapter, I referred to two main points about Shammo's profile. Firstly its ability to create a local constituency and secondly, its ability to co-opt or enter wider networks and thus, create a macro-level identity symbolised in the notion of 'Shammor poth'. The inference made in the previous chapter is that these dimensions together constitute a single iterative process so that the macro profile is both dependent on and reinforces the credibility and strength of the micro profile.

The importance of solidarity to effect social change is a theme which the NGO literature has been eager to highlight. Uphoff et at. (1998) for example have recently argued that one of the most important criteria of NGO success is the ability to create and sustain a unified and loyal membership. The authors go on to almost tease the reader with the statement that for development organisations, the ability to create effective solidarities "can, in some respects, be even more important than money" (Uphoff et al 1998: 180).

While extolling the virtues of solidarity and loyalty, the literature however generally fails to identify the processes and mechanisms which facilitate the formation of NGO collectivities. In part the literature can afford to simply side-step these issues because of the de-problematised way it chooses to represent the 'NGO-poor relationship. Thus, NGOs 'represent' or 'serve' the poor in a pristine, transparent and spiritual way (Korten 1990), and this contrasts with the venal, coercive and instrumental relationships generated by states or markets. NGO relations do not therefore need to be qualified or analysed; they are naturally good, they speak for themselves and they speak truly. As John Clark acknowledges it is governments that we, the public, love to hate; non-government organisations can't be suspect. It is large bureaucracies we mistrust; small, voluntary organisations are our friends. It is the profit-motive that we find vulgar, altruism is noble. (Clark 1991: 52, original emphasis) My analysis treats this bias with some suspicion. Instead I endorse White's (1996) argument that an important part of the NGO story in Bangladesh is that they have successfully engaged in 'real struggles' for the hearts and minds of members and non-members alike. NGO solidarities therefore do not evolve out of some 'natural' empathy, but are formed in a series of historical struggles in which there are winners and losers. In this chapter I intend identifying and analysing those processes, struggles or 'interfaces' (Long 1989a) through which Shammo has created and maintained over time its identifiable solidarity.

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2. REINTRODUCING PATRONAGE AND FACTIONS

In chapter three I argued that solidarities which enabled exchange were a constituent part of society in Bangladesh. There I referred to an array of units of exchange (ranging from household to high-level bureaucratic and political structures) through which people strategically seek their security and welfare. Conceptually I highlighted the importance of factionalism in organising and articulating these units of solidarity. Factions were defined as non-ideological and structurally equivalent opposites of solidarity competing for resources and positions of power. Webs of patron-client relationships that vary in terms of intensity, duration and level of engagement sustain these factions. For the poor, these patron-based relationships offer an important way of guaranteeing minimum levels of security and avoiding some of the more adverse risks which may arise in situations of extensive poverty. Although the relationship benefits both patron and client, it does not do so equally. Not only therefore do hierarchy, exploitation and dependence evolve in these relationships, but to some extent they are a necessary condition for the same relationships to function. Clients need to feel that their dependent relationships are secure and reliable.

Towards the end of chapter three, I raised the question of how NGOs in Bangladesh might be situated in discussions of factionalism and patronage. Although that section was of a speculative nature, my intention was to acknowledge the work of some authors who had explicitly addressed the NGO-patronage link in the context of Bangladesh (Glaser 1989, McGregor 1989a, Hashemi 1990, White 1991, Wood 1994, Devine 1998). Of these, McGregor's (1989a) work is singled out in that it offers, perhaps for the first time, ethnographic details showing how the relationship between a local faction leader and a national NGO working in the village helped the faction leader seize power from a rival faction leader. Revealingly, it seems however that at the time McGregor was writing, the village elite themselves considered the NGO a marginal actor in the 'real struggle' for power in the village.'

This chapter explores and builds on the 'window of opportunity' offered by McGregor's work. I hope to show how Shammo has played a pivotal role in the 'real struggle' for power around Boro Bagher Beel. The argument in brief is that Shammo's ability to capture local power is directly related to its successful negotiation of and engagement in an evolving history of patronage and factionalism. To engage in this evolving history Shammo had to compete with other patrons or rivals for the one thing that matters: a loyal and faithful collectivity. Second, I will argue that to consolidate its position, Shammo assumed a particular kind of patronage through its relationship with the wider NGO community. Although structurally different from other forms of patronage, this new kind of patronage is however still rooted in patterns of

1 Conversation with McGregor. 161

competition for and management of clientelistic networks.

3. MAPPING LOCAL HISTORIES

The names of Norendro Mujumdar, Monoranjan Mujumdar, Shudangsha Banerji and Gobindo Banerji are still remembered throughout the area surrounding Boro Bagher Bee1. 2 These were the local zamindars (revenue collectors) who, according to my informants, at one point owned the whole of Pabna and beyond. 3 The origins of the authority the zamindar class managed to amass throughout South Asia can be traced back to the Permanent Settlement Act introduced by the colonial administration in 1793. 4 The Act institutionalised a land tenure system in which zamindars were contracted to collect for the government a fixed annual rent on estates. In return for this, the zamindars became the sole proprietors of the same estates. However, if the zamindars failed to pay the exact revenue on time, the administrative authority had the right to auction off their land. To avoid losing their estates therefore, zamindars shifted the responsibility of paying the fixed revenue to others by sub-leasing the lands. Fearing possible sanctions, those who leased the land simply copied the zamindar tactic and sub-leased the land once again. Consequently, a vertically ordered system of complex and varied sub-tenurial arrangements evolved linking the raiyats (peasants) at the bottom of the chain to the zamindars at the top. Since however the only obligation on the zamindar was to pay the fixed revenue to the relevant authority, he was free to charge whatever he wished from those sub-letting his land. This power effectively enabled the zamindars to control both the relations of production and the structure of political authority of their respective areas. Although a number of reforms were later introduced to wrestle back some power from the zamindar class, 5 people around Boro Bagher Beel have no recollection of any real transfer of power or wealth from the zamindars to the raiyats.

Norendro, Monoranjan and Shudangsha were direct descendants. Shudangsha had no male children and so his estate was given to Gobindo, his closest and oldest male relative. In fact these zamindars did not own Pabna, but only resided there. I found that discussions on the zamindars were prone to contradictions and exaggerations and this complicated my research task of reconstructing undocumented historical relationships. To try and verify accounts, I asked the same questions to people with different backgrounds and experiences. For more detailed accounts of zamindar class and system see Rahim (1997: 71-103), Khan (1989), Siddiqui (1987) and Islam (1997). I refer to the Bengal Tenancy Act of 1885 and its Amendment Acts of 1928 and 1938. The Amendment Act of 1938 for example enabled the peasants to transfer their holdings without paying their respective zamindars. This made them de lure proprietors of the land. However to avoid losing their estates, zamindars usually made informal arrangements with local richer farmers to preserve the status quo ante.
5 4 3

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During the time of Gobindo Banerji two important events occurred which were to drastically alter the balance of power in the area. First of all, with the 1947 partition of India and Pakistan, many zamindars began moving to India. 6 Although other zamindars from the Pabna area left, Gobindo Banerji decided to stay and hold on to his estate. However when in 1950 a widespread land reform was introduced which inter alia abolished all rent receiving interests, even Gobindo realised he had no long-term future in East Pakistan. Consequently, in 1955 he finally abandoned Pabna and moved with his family to India.

The expected land reform of 1950 however never took place. Instead what happened was that the exodus of the dominant zamindar class created a vacuum which was quickly filled by another powerful rural class: the jotedars. 7 Since land was the main source of wealth and rural power, the competition among jotedars and their respective factions for the land was intense and often violent.

Kayesh was born the same year Gobindo Banerji left for India. Kayesh's father had two important sources of income: 33 acres of cultivable land and money he earned by leasing land from the zamindars and sub-letting it out to smaller farmers. 8 The family was therefore not a poor one and all the sons and daughters were able to go to school. Early in his childhood however, Kayesh's mother died and being the eldest son, he was expected to contribute to the family's finances. As soon as he completed his basic studies therefore, he took up a position as a primary school teacher in Jaybash. Even today, the villagers of Jaybash know him as Kayesh Master.

Since the jotedars were primarily interested in cultivable land, they gave no importance to the Boro Bagher Beel. Poor Hindu fishing communities had always used the Beel without paying rents and in post-zamindar days that situation remained unaltered. There was basically nothing to be gained from fighting over a water body which was 10 foot deep. This all changed however in 1962 when, as part of the Government's rural development programme, a canal was dug from the Beel to the nearby river.

The emergent khas land of Boro Bagher Beet was both large and fertile and its emergence breathed new life into the ongoing jotedar factional struggles. By promising that the cultivable

6 Most zamindars were Hindus. Gobindo Banerji was a Brahman, the highest Hindu caste. 7 Jotedars were agricultural entrepreneurs who managed the estates of absent zamindars while maintaining close relations with the peasantry. This brokerage role meant that they were ideally placed to assume power when the zamindars left. 8 Sub-letting land was a profitable business. Kayesh's father claimed that he leased 60 bighas of land from Monoranjan Mujumdar and paid 25 to 50 paisa per bigha. However when he leased the same land out he charged 1-2 taka per bigha (there are 100 paisa to 1 take). In those days, he remembers buying 40 kilograms of rice with 1 take.

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land would be eventually given to the poor, the jotedars convinced their own faction members to clear areas of the Beel and prepare it for cultivation. When the first crops arrived, many of the jotedars made a point of distributing the produce among their faction members. However as soon as the land had been completely cleared, 9 the sharing stopped and the landless were forced to pay the jotedars for the privilege of farming the land. The fact that the jotedars could act in such a unilateral way is of course a function of the patron system itself. No-one would consider contesting the entitlement of patrons to this land. In the diagram below I outline the villages surrounding Boro Bagher Beel and indicate the names of the main jotedars who benefited from its clearance in the 1960s.

9 According to one source, it took 7 years to clear the Beef. 164

Diagram 2: Local Power Structure with Names of Villages and Major Jotedars

Vilashapur Lob onikam 9

r

_.Vellavagram 7

Attamula 10 Choto agher Beel L13v Notikpur, _ _ 11 _ .Chatragr am 6 Uttoram 13

Vishampur 5

Kanchanapur 2 Village

Palitaka 4 Me shikgram 3

Shammo's Office

Village

Name of Jotedars a) Nur Muhammed b) Osman Kha Joinuddin Idu Shaha Motin Chowdury Johid Fakir a) Mosum Khan b) Manju Chairman a) Taizal Chairman b) Selim Mollik a) Nazmul Chairman b) Latif AD c) Rafiq Sheikh 165

Jaybash

Meshikgram Vishampur Chatragram Vellavagram Vilashapur and Lobonikam

Hastigram

Uttoram

4. PATRONS AND CLIENTS - DIVIDING THE RURAL SPOILS

Most of those who took over the khas land were matbars, members, chairmen or political leaders. In other words, they were politically powerful people who used their position to gain privileged and exclusive access to the land. The most pertinent example here is that of Joinuddin who obtained more land than anyone else in the struggle over the Beel.

Joinuddin came from Meshikgram and is said to have taken about 500 bighas of khas land from the Beel. In the late 1950s he had been promoted to Officer in Charge (OC) after having spent many years working as a village daroga. 1 Not only was he therefore well connected with the local political and bureaucratic machinery, but being the law of the land', he was also in a perfect position to impose his will almost randomly. Ordinary people fear high-ranking police officials and no-one would have publicly questioned Joinuddin's decision to seize 500 bighas of land for himself.

While Joinuddin relied heavily on his own social position to obtain land, other local elites made greater use of their factions to procure khas land. The case of Mosum Khan who, like Joinuddin, managed to appropriate hundreds of bigha of khas land, is insightful here.

Mosum Khan was the local leader of the Awami League Party and was therefore a man of considerable influence. Initially, he deliberately distanced himself from and showed no public interest in the inter-factional struggles to control the Beel." However he changed his mind after seeing the quantity and quality of the first harvests. Since it was in his interest to avoid open confrontation with Joinuddin, he devised a strategy of creating allegiances to attack and take over the positions of the weaker jotedars. His first big fight was with Hajee Shaheb and Kabil Khan. Since both these men lived in villages far away from the Beel, it was not difficult for Mosum Khan to convince other smaller jotedars living close to the Beel to support him since they were equally keen on removing two main players from the struggle. In his second fight however, Mosum Khan directed his attention towards the jotedars controlling the side of the Beel that lay far away from the area controlled by Joinuddin. In this second confrontation, Mosum Khan made a temporary alliance with Manju Chairman (from his own village) to challenge Nazmul Chairman, Latif All and Rafiq Sheikh (all three from Uttoram village which lies between Boro and Choto Bagher Beels) for control of the northern part of the Beel. One of

10 From the time of the British administration, darogas were used to maintain order in the villages and even today the word daroga is associated with a mafia type presence. The OC instead is the leading official police authority at the thane level. The figure of the OC is often the focus of discussions on corruption in Bangladesh. Since many of the jot edars were Awami League activists, Mosum Khan's political career depended on their support. He therefore strategically tried to keep peace with all of them.

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the key men in Mosum Khan's struggle for land was Shiraj Sirkar who for many years was the leading lathial of Mosum Khan. He remembers his days as a lathial in this way:

I was in charge of Mosum Khan's army. When he started showing interest in the Beel, my workload doubled. My job was to weaken his opponents. And so during the day, I guarded the Beel and if I saw farmers from someone else's do! (faction) approaching, I would capture them and warn them never to return. At night, I would go with my men to nearby villages and try to scare the people. There was a lot of fighting, violence and sometimes people even died. Only Joinuddin's dol was bigger than ours and we were ordered never to attack Joinuddin's people or touch his land. Both Mosum Khan and Joinuddin wanted to divide the Beel among themselves [...]. Not only did Mosum Khan have to weaken the jotedars, he also had to deal with the poor. He was a great speaker and would assure everyone that khas land stolen by the jotedars would be given to the poor. He was very calak (crafty) and people believed him. But I knew he was telling a lie. Since I was his bodyguard, I went with him everywhere and I heard him repeat the same story to everyone. He would make poor farmers work the land, give them some of the crop occasionally and promise to eventually get them the documents for the land. If the poor ever complained about Mosum Khan, I was the one who had to deal with them [...]. I am certain Mosum Khan never handed a single document over to a poor farmer. Shortly after gaining independence, the government of Bangladesh declared that all khas land would be distributed to the poor free of cost. 12 With the pretence that they knew how best to deal with local officials, the elites around Boro Bagher Beel offered to help process the applications of the poor in return for a small nominal fee. This money however was mostly used by the elites to 'convince' local officials that the contested land was not in fact khas, but private property they had acquired legally from the zamindars who left for India. The only redistribution that occurred as a result of the Government's decision to distribute khas land, was therefore between jotedars. Joinuddin's monopoly on the Beel was broken at this time and this allowed for a wider distribution of land among more jotedars. One of the individuals to gain most from the khas distribution programme was Saidur Chairman from Hastigram. By using the contacts he had built up as Chairman he managed to obtain over 100 bighas of khas land.

Saidur Chairman tampered with documents, approved false applications and strategically, even distributed some land to poor people in villages where he had strong political interests. 13 For example, since Jaybash was a big and strategically important political constituency for Saidur, he arranged to have the application of about 14 of its landless families approved. 14 One of those allocated land in this way was Selim Ali. When he was allocated land by Saidur Chairman, he took a small loan from a local money lender to plant rice. But just before harvest time, Saidur sent his lathials to muscle Selim off the land. Today Selim still has the legal
12 This is contained in the State Acquisition and Tenancy (4th Amendment) Order issued in 1972. 13 See chapter five, section 4.1. 14 Saidur however adopted the same strategy in a number of other villages, as did other jotedars.

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document for the land Saidur Chairman gave him and when he showed it to me he said

When Saidur and his group stole my land, I was in big trouble. There were floods and famine and I needed to sell the crop to survive. Instead because of Saidur I ended up more in debt. I was so desperate I spent nights outside Saidur's house so that I could speak to him early in the morning. But he would just say that there had been a mistake at the thana office and that he had documents to prove that my khas land was his own property. If I had any objections, he told me to take my case to the court. I asked Selim why all those who had been cheated in this way did not get together to confront Saidur. He replied

It would have been impossible. Saidur was the Chairman and we all depended on him and feared him. We always tried to show we were on his side even if he cheated us. Saidur stole my land and yet I would campaign for him at the time of elections... If we bring together Selim and Shiraj's accounts, we have an idea of just how structured access to the Beel was. The main gatekeepers in this structured form of access were the jotedars who had both the links to the local political and administrative structure and the ability to impose, violently or otherwise, their decisions on others. The only serious competition for the khas land was therefore between the leaders of rival groups or factions, and the only chance the poor had of accessing the land was to somehow obtain the benevolence of their respective patrons. This was the only way to survive. The strategy however was not secure for as the case of Selim clearly indicates, 'the hand which feeds' always retained the right to become 'the hand which takes'.

The account I have so far portrayed not only reveals the importance of factional and patronbased structures in determining access to resources such as khas land, but also how the fortunes of patron-based factions change and evolve over time. These two findings are broadly consistent with anthropological studies of factions and patronage in South Asia. It would be wrong however to deduce that the playing field where factions and patrons compete is ever a completely open one. In fact by the time Shammo began to direct its attention towards the Beel, the jotedar groups had indeed changed, but not that much. Often, the sons or close relatives of the older jotedars simply inherited the mantle of the struggle for the Beel. In the following diagram, I give an overview of the main actors interested in the Beel around the time Shammo was formed (1980s). I also indicate where possible, the relationship of these actors with the older jotedars. All the jotedars in the early 1980s were sons of jotedars who were prominent in the 1960s, except in three cases. The power held by Selim Mollik and Johid Fakir in the 1960s fragmented over time and was seized by bigger, rival jotedar groups. The departure of a Hindu jotedar (Motin Chowdury) on the other hand created a socio-political vacuum which was filled by a smaller but very shrewd jotedar (Golam Member).

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Diagram 3: Local Power Structure with Names of Villages and Major Jotedars

Lobontkarn 9 .Attamula 10

Vilashapur 8 :Vellavagram 7

i;oto r
Notikpur 11 1

. Bagher Be el `ly -

Uttorarn 13

_J_

Chatra,grarn 6

Vishampur 5

, - - Jayb ash 1 - Village Shammo's Office

1,1

_ -

_ 2 P alitaka 4 Me shikgram 3 -

,' `.K anch an apur

Village

Name of Jotedars (1960s) a) Nur Muhammed b) Osman Kha Join uddin Idu Shaha Motin Chowdury Johid Fakir a) Mosum Khan b) Manju Chairman a) Taizal Chairman b) Selim Mollik a) Nazmul Chairman b) Latif All C) Rafiq Sheikh

Relationship

Name of Jotedars (1980s) a) Anowar Muhammed b) Kayesh of Shammo Foyzed Uddin Roton Master Golam Member

Jaybash

father of father of father of father of

Meshikgram Vishampur Chatragram Vellavagram Vilashapur and Lobonikam Hastigram

father of father of father of

a) Abdul Islam b) lqbal Shaha Saidur Chairman

Uttoram

father of father of father of

a) Halim Chairman b) Rahim All c) Abdul Hague 169

5. SHAMMO: THE EMERGENCE OF A NEW PATRON

The proposition I wish to forward in this section is that the roots of Shammo's initial success lie in its having nested itself in and exploited the very local factional struggles outlined above. The key to understanding how Shammo as a group negotiated its position along side other factional networks lies in analysing its pattern of recruiting clients and consolidating its leadership structure (Alavi 1973).

5.1 Recruiting Clients

While the recruitment of factional clients occurs according to diverse principles (Nicholas 1965), Shammo's initial recruitment process was based on two main strategies: successful conflict mobilisations and capturing core clients.

5.1.1 Recruitment through Mobilisation

Shammo's first landless recruits were all from Jaybash. The first five samities consisted of men who were either members of Kayesh's ghusti or samaj, or had been active in the Jaybash Jubok Samity (JJS) mentioned in the previous chapter. Although Jaybash was a big village, its samaj structure was rather unusual. First of all, in the village there were many small and dispersed samajes. Secondly, none of these samajes was socially or politically significant outside of Jaybash itself. This combination seemed however to have worked in Shammo's favour for although there were forces in Jaybash who disliked Shammo, they never had the unity or leverage to really prevent its growth. 15 The very first initiative undertaken by Shammo occurred in Jaybash shortly after the organisation had started. The fact that a coalition of elites could not control what amounted to a numerically inferior group of landless samity novices indicates how weak and dispersed factions actually were in Jaybash.

In 1981, the five samity groups applied for the lease of a small pond (0.5 bigha) in the western para of Jaybash. This particular para was dominated and controlled by a faction led by Jalil who, as the previous chapter indicated, had been one of the founding members of the JJS but left when Shammo came into being. Although he claims he was muscled out of the committee,

The fact that the numerically strongest faction in Jaybash is led by a man who tends to shun 'village politics' was significant. He has never been involved in nor interfered with Shammo's work.

15

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it is widely believed that he left offended because he had not been re-elected chairman. Since his departure, his animosity and bitterness towards Shammo have intensified. Even today, Jalil gives a very strong impression that his own prestige and honour, together with that of his samaj, depend on his being able to eventually destroy Shammo. Jalil expects 'his people' to support him in his endeavour.16

Jalil contested Shammo's application for the lease of the pond arguing that the pond should be given to the people of the Western para (mostly his own samaj). He mobilised the other major faction leaders in Jaybash 17 who had distanced themselves from Shammo following its decision to work exclusively for the poor, and collected enough money to initiate legal proceedings against Shammo's samities. The legal battle was a lengthy one which the samity members had to finance with their own money. At the same time, they also had to learn how to defend themselves from the different social pressures and threats orchestrated by the village ruling elite. Confronting the elite in this way was a new experience for most of the samity members and so they would meet almost every night to discuss how best to pursue their strategies. Kayesh meanwhile was beginning to use his position as a schoolteacher to find support outside of Jaybash. In the end, and only after drawn out fights within the village, the court favoured the samities' case and sanctioned the lease of the pond in their name.

By the time Shammo had won this court case, it was already beginning to focus on the question of the Boro Bagher Beel khas land. Since there were landless communities all around the Beel, the issue of khas was a useful and relevant entry point into the villages. Shammo's expansion was however strategically calculated. In the south side of the Beel, the most powerful jotedar was Saidur Chairman against whom Shammo had just submitted 18 cases. 18 Knowing that his network was highly organised and numerically powerful, Shammo began to build its constituency in those villages with landless communities which were geographically furthest away from Saidur. In other words, it deliberately chose to build up its strength by attacking opponents (in this case Saidur) at their weakest points.

Villages in the South like Meshikgram and Kanchanapur all had their own patrons and Shammo dealt with these people by presenting itself in a non-threatening way. Since these patrons were all smaller than Saidur Chairman, they were perfectly happy that someone like Shammo would

16 I am confident Jalil would disagree with what I have written for at least publicly, he states that he has nothing against Shammo. However my understanding of Jalil's position has been influenced by the vocabulary often used by informants speaking of the Jalil-Shammo relationship. Both sides are presented as different dols (factions) and people often use the tader/amader lok (their/our people) to identify themselves with either Jalil or Shammo. 17 In the previous chapter, I indicated that faction leaders in Jaybash were annoyed with Shammo for insistence that development flows and inputs be distributed to the poorest of the village.
18

By the south side, I refer to the villages between and including Hastigram and Palitaka.

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publicly align itself against Saidur. Deep down they believed and hoped that they would benefit from the ensuing struggle. One local patron from Meshikgram told me:

When Shammo came to our village no one bothered too much. Some of us had received bits of khas land which Joinuddin used to own. But Shammo never talked about this land. It was only interested in destroying Saidur Chairman. In a meeting of our village matbars, one of Saidur Chairman's people asked us to stop Shammo from organising samities in the villages. But most of the matbars avoided the question. No-one said they supported the samities because we were all frightened of Saidur, but no-one committed himself to actually getting rid of Shammo. We all believed that Saidur's loss would mean our gain and so we were happy Shammo had lodged 18 cases against Saidur. He was a thief. The ability to recruit samity members in areas where Saidur Chairman's patronage network was weakest and other local patrons were also weak, proved to be a successful strategy for Shammo. The following case study, which was both Shammo's first struggle outside of Jaybash and its first successful struggle against Saidur Chairman, illustrates how successful mobilisations encouraged new recruits to join Shammo.

The first chairman of the first samity in Palitaka was Jamal Ali. He had planted trees on the side of the road leading up to his house as part of business venture. While the matbars of his village gave no importance to this initiative, Saidur Chairman used it as an opportunity to attack Shammo. Palitaka was a good strategic place for Saidur to wage his campaign against Shammo since the samity members there were new and Palitaka was the furthest village Shammo had ventured into. Just as Shammo campaigned where Saidur was weakest, so too Saidur began his attack at the weakest part of Shammo's growing network. Campaigns were built on lit for tat' strategies.

Saidur informed Jamal All that as Chairman he had the authority to auction off the trees since they had been planted on a public road. Jamal was told that he could keep the trees if he abandoned the samity. Jamal spoke to Kayesh and his fellow samity members about the matter and in the end he decided to challenge Saidur by arguing that the trees were his private property and therefore could not be auctioned off without his permission. Incensed by this defiance, Saidur ordered that the trees be cut down immediately. However when his men went to cut the trees, a group of samity members vastly outnumbering them stood in their way and warned them not to touch the trees. Kayesh meanwhile had gone to Pabna and lodged a complaint to the District Commissioner (DC) against Saidur's abuse of authority and power. The DC intervened and eventually decided that the trees were the private property of Jamal.

There are many stories recounting the role of NGOs in situations of social conflict and struggle (Kramsjo and Wood 1992) and Shammo's early history is replete with Various examples of micro struggles. Rather than identify and describe more of these incidents, I suggest it is more important to offer two general observations about the accumulative impact of micro struggles. 172

First of all, Shammo's success in different struggles had a snowball type effect, enabling the organisation to recruit more members, enter new areas and strengthen the bonds of unity between existing samities. Mobilisations facilitated institutional growth which in turn allowed further mobilisation. In this process, people learnt to trust each other. Secondly, in order to successfully engage in these micro struggles, Kayesh had to learn how to mobilise external support. His ability to negotiate with and win over the DC, the police and the courts was crucial especially since many of these had ongoing relations with local based elite alliances. This also served to construct an image of Kayesh as a secure, reliable, trustworthy and well-connected leader. In other words, he was a leader capable of looking after his own.

5.1.2 Recruiting Core Clients

The reputation that Kayesh was building up helped Shammo pursue a second strategy to enlarge its constituency: capturing core clients. By core clients I refer to individual actors who have their own following and by implication, possess a particular form of socio-political power or influence. The most important core client Shammo managed to co-opt was Shiraj Sirkar, the present chairman of Shammo.

We have already met Shiraj Sirkar. He was a lathial of Mosum Khan, and his fellow villagers were part of his army or gang. When Mosum Khan died, Shiraj Sirkar began to offer his much sought after services to the different jotedar groups. Shammo too was keen to court Shiraj Sirkar for having established itself in different villages in the South of the Beel, it now wanted to turn its attention to the northern area where Shiraj Sirkar resided. He came from Vellagram but had contacts in various villages to the North. The Northern part of the Beel was however strategically difficult to enter for the elite structure there was highly organised and the poor were strongly aligned into different factional structures. Three men controlled this part of the Beel: Nazmul Chairman, his son Halim Chairman and Abdul Hague. All three resided in Uttoram village and had used their political positions, just like Saidur Chairman, to obtain hundreds of bighas of khas land. More importantly, all three men had carefully observed how Shammo was outmanoeuvring Saidur Chairman and had already told Shammo staff that their organisation would not be welcome in their area.

Shammo's eventual success in these areas was tied to its ability to capture core clients like Shiraj Sirkar. The decision to headhunt him was a deliberate one based on a number of factors. First of all, he was a lathial and Shammo knew that if they could recruit him, the jotedars would lose an important strategic force. Secondly, Shiraj Sirkar was a leader both of his own village and of the neighbouring fishing communities and so it was hoped that his recruitment would also guarantee the recruitment of his followers. Unfortunately however when Shiraj was first

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approached by Shammo members, he was not impressed with them and accused them of being a group of opportunists out to cheat the poor just like the jotedars. Not only did he therefore ignore Shammo's request to help establish samities in his area, but he also aligned himself with Halim, Abdul and Nazmul's campaign to prevent the 'outsiders' from stealing land that did not belong to them.

On one occasion, Shiraj was asked by the jotedars to go to a small market area where a meeting had been organised by Shammo members. On his way to the market however, he was ambushed by some of the samity members and forcibly taken to a place where again the landless tried to convince him to join Shammo. The night was a long one but from Shammo's perspective a successful one for Shiraj Sirkar finally decided to become a samity member. That decision meant that the other members of Shiraj Sirkar's village and the fishing communities who considered him their leader also became members of Shammo. 19 More importantly however, when Shiraj changed his allegiance to Shammo, the poor who were members of Halim, Abdul and Nazmul's factional structures were less frightened to attend Shammo's meetings. In fact, Shiraj Sirkar and his men were always present in the first samity meetings held at Uttoram village just in case Halim, Abdul or Nazmul decided to try and stop the meeting.

One day I asked Shiraj Sirkar why he had become a member of Shammo and he replied:

because they beat me up [laughing]. The night I was ambushed by the landless, we talked and argued a lot. I could see the landless trusted Kayesh and I also found out that night from the landless themselves that Kayesh had never taken any of the khas for himself. In that sense, he was very different from the other jotedars I had worked for. Core clients were therefore vital in Shammo's recruitment strategies in areas where it was either weak or where rival factions had well established and controlled clientelistic networks. It is not surprisingly therefore that especially in the Northern part of the Beel where historically Shammo was weaker, moulanas (Islamic teachers or scholars), public school teachers and members of the Union Council have all been recruited as samity members.

In total, 32 male samity groups were formed in the space of a few days following Shiraj Sirkar's decision to become a member.

19

174

5.2 Consolidating Leadership

What convinced Shiraj Sirkar that Shammo was not like any other group was the quality of its leadership. 2 The more I probed into Shammo's history, the more I realised that anything that is or was of relevance necessarily passes through its leader Kayesh. The fact that discussions about Shammo inevitably entail discussions about Kayesh reflects a pattern in Bangladesh in which organisations are identified with and remain highly dependent on particular charismatic personalities. The most suggestive title I ever heard about Kayesh was that he was amader moner neta (the leader of our heart or mind). What was significant about the title was that it was used most often not by samity members, but by directors of other local NG0s. We will return to this title 'amar moner neta' later in this chapter.

Leadership, as Bailey (1970) has argued, is a skill. I would argue that Kayesh's skill as a leader is based on his ability to a) access wider institutions and structures which provide resources, material or otherwise, to nurture his clientelistic networks; and b) ensure that all relationships between and involving his clients necessarily pass through him. With the first set of skills Kayesh operates as a broker, while with the second he operates as a manager of clientelistic networks. Although these two dimensions are inseparable, there is a conceptual and practical logic in distinguishing them since the ability to manage clients can be interpreted as the sine qua non for accessing wider processes and networks. I therefore begin with a discussion on the former and then move on to discuss at greater length the dynamics of Kayesh's brokerage role.

5.2.1 The Case of the Rival Leader

To understand the institutional importance of successfully managing clients, below I offer a case study where the management of Shammo's clients was most seriously contested. The case evolves around the person of Anwarul who not only was a founder member of Shammo, but was the only other person, besides Kayesh, ever given the title of 'amader moner neta'.

Anwarul, like Kayesh was born in Jaybash, but unlike Kayesh, Anwarul came from a much poorer background. When they started the Jaybash Jubok Samity, Kayesh was a schoolteacher and Anwarul a farmer. As Shammo expanded, a certain division of labour occurred whereby Kayesh would concentrate on establishing strategic contacts beyond the local level while

20 At least, this is the reason Shiraj Sirkar told me he had joined Shammo. I however doubt that this is but part of the full story. It is very likely that Shiraj saw possibilities in Shammo for nurturing his own career as a leader. In fact, as we will see below, he became one of the most important leaders of Shammo, and is today its chairperson.

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Anwarul spent more time with the landless people themselves. 21 The contribution of both moner leaders complemented each other and for years Kayesh and Anwarul were inseparable. A serious rift however occurred between the two men in the run-up to the 1988 Upazila (UP) elections. 22 Many people (emit), members and others) had put considerable pressure on Anwarul to stand as a candidate for the post of Chairman but Kayesh objected to this and refused to publicly support Anwarul insisting that it was wrong for staff members to seek political power. Anwarul however did contest and eventually lost the elections. There were two main explanations for Anwarul's defeat. Firstly, throughout the campaign and on the day of the elections, he was in prison awaiting trial together with Kayesh. Secondly, it is widely held that the person who was eventually elected chairman (Aziz Chairman) had been involved in widespread vote rigging. 23 Despite these major disadvantages, Anwarul's popularity was such that he still managed to finish a very close second to Aziz.

While in prison both Kayesh and Anwarul spoke of the elections. While there was no doubt that Anwarul had more than sufficient backing to win the election, the two men became highly suspicious of each other's motives. Anwarul accused Kayesh of being jealous and Kayesh was worried that Anwarul was trying to build an independent power base behind his back. Both men had therefore become rivals and were engaged in a fight to control if not Shammo as an organisation, at least the members of Shammo. On leaving jail, the direction this rivalry was to take was determined by a different leadership struggle evolving within Shammo.

DONOR A had always pinned hopes on Shammo becoming and remaining an organisation run by the poor themselves. As the membership base expanded, it therefore proposed that an executive committee (EC) be established with full power over the running of the organisation. However the donor agency insisted that only landless members could serve on the EC. Although the senior staff of Shammo were never enthusiastic about the idea of handing over complete control of the organisation to the members, they had little option but to accept it. In 1986 therefore, the first elections to the EC took place and Suruj Member was elected chairman. He had been one of the core clients co-opted by Shammo to consolidate its position in the Northern side of the Beel. Kayesh openly supported Suruj's candidacy believing that he would follow decisions and directions indicated by the organisation's senior staff members. In

Kayesh himself pointed this difference out to me. In the early years of Shammo however, this division of labour was not in place and Kayesh spent as much time as anyone else with the landless.
22

21

The Upazila is a sub-district administrative unit.

23 Votes in the Union were cast in 6 different centres on the same day. Voting in one centre was postponed because of persistent outbreaks of violence. When the votes from the other 5 centres had been counted, Anwarul had approximately 650 more votes than Aziz. Given that there were only 1200 voters in the final centre where many Shammo groups existed, it was almost certain that Anwarul would have won. However, over 90% of the votes cast in the final centre were in the name of Aziz. It is common knowledge that people were prevented from attending the centre and the ballot boxes were filled with falsely marked vote slips.

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1988 however, Suruj was elected Union Chairman and was consequently forced to relinquish his position as Shammo EC chairman. According to the EC constitution, the chairmanship of Shammo should have been transferred to the then additional secretary: Shiraj Sirkar.

Although senior staff at Shammo had strategically used Shiraj Sirkar's power to establish samities in the North of the Beel, they were anxious about someone so independent and powerful becoming chairman of the organisation. Consequently they decided to appoint a samity member called Anjan from the village of Meshikgram as chairman rather than allow Shiraj Sirkar take up the position as the constitution dictated. The only explanation given for this move was that Anjan had better leadership qualities than Shiraj. The truth however was that Anjan appeared to be a more manageable chairman in that a) he was a distant relative of Kayesh, b) he had no autonomous power base, and c) he resided on Shammo's side of the Beel. This however was to prove a serious error of judgement for as soon as Anjan became chairman, he began to publicly question Kayesh about the use of Shammo's assets and money. The relationship between the two men became so tense that slowly members of the EC and staff were pushed into irreconcilable positions. Finally, it was decided to hold fresh elections.

Anjan by this time had become a popular leader among the landless and won the new elections convincingly. With this mandate behind him, he turned his initial concern regarding greater accountability of the organisation's assets and monies into a priority. On one occasion Anjan, with the full backing of the EC, even refused to authorise the release of Kayesh's wages. As the level of suspicion, distrust and non co-operation between staff and EC members increased, DONOR A intervened and suggested to Shammo that it undertake its first internal evaluation.

The ensuing investigation singled out four of Shammo's mid to senior level staff and accused them of abusing their position within the organisation. One of the main accusations levelled at these four was that they had created a factional environment within Shammo. 24 On the basis of the report, the four were suspended on the 1st of June 1988. Anwarul resigned a few days later claiming that the four had been treated wrongly and accusing Kayesh of having instigated the whole affair for his own benefit. 25 Kayesh now found himself facing opposition from three fronts
24 The actual report speaks of "doladoli sristhi' (source not referenced to safeguard anonymity) which means 'creating factions or groups'. The four were also accused of failing to take their work seriously, financial mismanagement and behaving inappropriately with members of the EC. 25 I never found out the full details of the dynamic which evolved around the suspension of the four and Anwarul's resignation. The independent report singles out the four staff members and this could justify their suspensions. But why would Anwarul resign? The commonest version of events is that Kayesh and the four had agreed to suspend Anjan as chairman of the EC. For reasons which are unclear, the four then changed their mind and told Anjan of Kayesh's intentions. Naturally Kayesh felt betrayed by the four and realised that he could not rely on them that much. Their suspension, although not instigated by Kayesh, would have been interpreted as a punishment for betraying trust. Anwarul meanwhile had 'evidence' that Kayesh was running the organisation in a dishonest way to strengthen his own position.

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which were beginning to come together: his old friend Anwarul, the suspended four and Anjan the EC chairman . He explained it to me in this way:

Anwarul's resignation was not necessary. It was his way of trying to take over Shammo. Ever since we fell out over the elections, I knew he would try and take revenge in some way. I asked him many times to withdraw his resignation but he would not listen. Anwarul had waited for a good opportunity before leaving and the suspension of the four staff members was perfect for him. All four were influential and popular members of staff and they all had good contacts with the landless. Anwarul was also making contacts with Anjan who again had considerable support among the samity members... What was most worrying about Anwarul was that he was using contacts we had built up together and taking advantage of an internal problem to mobilise support. Anwarul and I were fighting over the same people. He even organised processions and meetings in different villages against me. Shammo's members were rallying against Shammo. I was sad and frightened of what Anwarul was doing... The situation was however to get worse. In the new EC elections convoked and supervised by DONOR A after its internal investigation, Shiraj Sirkar, who by this time had gained Kayesh's support, was elected Chairman. 26 Some of Anjan's supporters however were unhappy about the results and wrote to DONOR A complaining that a number of election rules had been violated. For example, Shiraj had been actively campaigning for himself, the new EC secretary (Mahfuz from Jaybash) had unpaid debts and at least one Ward Commissioner was not even landless. After investigating these complaints, DONOR A persuaded Kayesh to annul the elections. However since the new Chairman and Secretary (Shiraj Sirkar and Mahfuz) had been found guilty of violating election rules, they were automatically disqualified from competing in the following round of elections. On learning this, both men were enraged and accused Kayesh of bowing too easily to the wishes of the donors. Since their grievance was directed against Kayesh, both Shiraj Sirkar and Mahfuz paradoxically found themselves in a position similar to that of Anjan, the suspended four, and of course Anwarul. According to Kayesh

Mahfuz and Shiraj were important leaders of the landless. Mahfuz was the most energetic and passionate speaker from among the landless. 27 He kept links with many landless communities and was always trying to convince them to join Shammo. Shiraj's strength was obvious. The day he left Shammo, all the fishing community samities joined him.28 I always felt that both men would return to Shammo, but their departure was a great loss for me, and an important gain for Anwarul.

26 Shiraj Sirkar became a confidant of Kayesh as the other potential leaders were positioning themselves around Anwarul.
In fact Mahfuz has spoken on behalf of Shammo and the wider NGO community at various high level national meetings with Presidents, Prime Ministers and leading politicians attending. Most of the 32 male samity groups who joined with Shiraj Sirkar also left with him. This considerably weakened Kayesh's position in the North of the Beel.
28 27

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While Anwarul was keen to capture and lead disgruntled `core' members of Shammo, he was also actively seeking outside support. In what would appear to be an extreme if not perverse manipulation of external networks, Anwarul contacted Rashid Talukdar of the Jatiyo Party and Nurul Member from Kanchanapur. As may be recalled from the previous chapter, these men were the main protagonists of the jotedar struggle against Shammo from about 1985 onwards. While Rashid Talukdar used his political strength to destroy Shammo, Nurul Member was the one who accused Shammo staff (including Anwarul) of murdering Youssouf Ali.

A working relationship developed between the groups led by Anwarul and Rashid Talukdar, which was formalised in June of 1989 when Anwarul, the four suspended staff members, Mahfuz, Shiraj Sirkar and other Shammo members joined the Jatiyo Party in a public rally organised in nearby Kanchanapur. During that rally, Anwarul's entire group also became members of MUKTO, an NGO established with the support of the jotedars, the patronage of Rashid Talukdar and the leadership of Nurul Member. The primary objective of MUKTO, reiterated the day Anwarul and his followers joined, was to prevent Shammo from working in the area (Source not referenced to safeguard anonymity).

For the next two months, the rivalry between Kayesh and Anwarul's groups intensified. During this time for example Anwarul's group forcibly prevented DONOR A's staff from entering Jaybash, destroyed Shammo's office equipment, padlocked the office door, broke up numerous samity meetings, organised rallies and processions against Shammo, and initiated different court proceedings against Shammo's staff. The main architect and beneficiary of all these actions was Anwarul. His whole strategy was directed towards weakening Kayesh's position in order to become the sole claimant of the moner neta title. Anwarul's attack was however qualitatively different from previous attempts for as Kayesh admitted:

Shammo is strong and unified. The only way to defeat it is to steal its members or weaken that unity. Rashid Talukdar, the jotedars and MUKTO all consistently failed to do that. It was never difficult convincing the samity members not to join Rashid Talukdar for no-one liked or trusted him. But Anwarul's threat was different. Unlike the jotedars, Anwarul did not need to use force and violence for he was very popular with people and could be trusted. In fact some of those who left with Anwarul have never returned to Shammo. Anwarul was the one who came closest to destroying the unity of Shammo. In a paradoxical twist, just as Anwarul was beginning to work with Rashid Talukdar's group, Youssouf Ali's murder case came to an end and Anwarul was sentenced, together with Kayesh and four others, to seven years imprisonment. By the time the men were released fourteen months later, Kayesh and Anwarul had settled their differences and had reached an agreement on how best to manage and share the clients they had. Anwarul would contest the 1991 UP elections and Kayesh had already declared that Shammo would offer him their full support and collaboration. Tragically, while returning one day from Dhaka, the bus Anwarul was travelling in crashed and went off the road. Many people, including Anwarul, died as a result of the 179

accident. This prevented Anwarul and Kayesh from taking their new management strategy any further.

6. SHAMMO: REWORKING PATRONAGE

6.1 Networks, Patrons and Brokers

Above I stated that Kayesh's second set of leadership skills relate to his ability to access wider institutions and structures, a strategy which provides him with resources to nurture his own clientelistic networks. A useful way of conceptually understanding this second ability is to perceive Kayesh as an entrepreneurial broker.

In what sense may we call Kayesh a broker? To address this question, it is worth looking at the kind of resources Kayesh specialises in. Our understanding here is helped by Boissevain's distinction between first and second order resources (Boissevain 1974). First order resources refer to such things as land, wealth, employment opportunities and so on, while second order resources refer mainly to strategic contacts with other influential sources. Boissevain's main argument regarding first and second order resources is that while patrons typically use the former to construct their leadership, brokers rely more on the latter. Brokers are therefore "expert network specialists" (Boissevain 1974: 148). I would argue that since Kayesh does not command sufficient first order resources to manage his entire clientelistic network, his leadership fortunes depend mostly on his ability to access goods he does not personally own (a point to be developed further in the following chapter). Brokers like Kayesh are by definition entrepreneurs for as Barth states:

[to] the extent that persons take the initiative, and in the pursuit of profit in some discernible form manipulate other persons and resources, they are acting as entrepreneurs. (Barth, in Boissevain 1974: 246, footnote 1) The structure in which Kayesh specialises, resembles what Eisenstadt and Roniger (1984: 220ff.) call a 'linked clientelistic network'. What characterises linked clientelistic networks is that they allow access to wider institutional frameworks. 29 The authors go further and identify two major patterns of linked clientelistic networks: 'organisational-brokerage networks' and 'patronbrokerage networks' (idem: 230). While both networks seek to establish links with wider actors, they do so in such a way that different clientelistic structures are developed. Thus, while
This distinguishes them from localised clientelistic networks which are self-contained clusters unrelated to the wider formal channels of social life (Eisenstadt and Roniger 1984: 229). All of these typologies are ideal types and here I adopt them as such.
29

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patron-brokerage is characterised by "a dispersed structure of networks unrelated to one another except through the activities of the brokerage heads... [in the organisationalbrokerage]... the different networks tend to be integrated in chain-to-centre structures" (Eisenstadt and Roniger 1984: 230).

A great range of patron-client institutional forms exists and there are many factors influencing which institutional arrangement will develop in any one particular setting. According to Eisenstadt and Roniger (1984), it is the configuration of social power, i.e. "the structure of the centre, its major policies and the nature of major coalitions existing within the centre" (Eisenstadt and Roniger 1984: 231) which is of primary importance in determining the institutional placement of patron-client relations. In the case of patron-brokerage arrangements therefore, centrally based elites (politicians, bureaucrats or administrators) seek the support of local elites to bolster their own political contest for access to the centre. In return for their support, local elites are granted privileged access to state resources which are used to extend their patronage leverage and coverage locally. Patrons enjoy monopolistic control over their clients in this structure and because of this, clientelistic networks remain dispersed and untouched except through the mobilisation of the respective patrons. It is an encapsulative model in which local powerful figures are co-opted, through formal and informal alliances, by central elites. Diagrammatically, it can be represented thus:

Diagram 4: Patron-Brokerage

Macro Patron-Central Elite

Local Patron A

/ \
Local Patron B

Local Patron C

/Clients

Clients \

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Traditionally in Bangladesh, the institutional placement of patron-client relations is of a patronbrokerage type. As I explained in chapter three, the configuration of social power is established on the basis of central and local forces entering into alliance with each other. These forces adjust to each other and try not to encroach on each other's particular power domain. Naturally, power configurations are never completely static and change may therefore occur in patronbrokerage networks. In fact, this chapter has already shown how new resources (cultivable khas land) ignited inter factional conflict around Boro Bagher Beel and catalysed a certain reconfiguration of socio-political power. I argued however that this reconfiguration was not substantial in that in the majority of cases, the brokering activities and patron functions of fathers were simply passed on to sons. There is therefore continuity in change with patrons retaining monopolistic control over their clients and managing their access to markets, institutions and so on.

The main difference between 'patron-brokerage' and 'organisational-brokerage' networks is that in the latter there exists an alliance of actors with a high profile and significant leverage at the centre of society. Furthermore, this coalition of actors is relatively autonomous from the local elite structure and indeed seeks to minimise the power the latter exert over broader strata of society. In other words, it attempts to "extend the scope of institutional markets, mainly of the political market, through extended franchise, and break down to some degree the established power domains and the access to the markets open within those domains" (Eisenstadt and Roniger 1984: 238). These kinds of coalitions therefore tend to emphasise the 'revolutionary' nature of their objectives and identify themselves, at least ideologically, with the effort to establish greater 'direct access' to resources, as well as a 'fairer redistribution' of the same resources (idem 239). This emphasis is contrasted with the behaviour of patrons who monopolistically control the access of their clients to different resources. Organisational brokerage entails therefore a repositioning of clientelistic networks and their reconstruction around broader channels of socio-political organisation like political parties, bureaucracies, administration and so on.

In the case of 'organisational brokerage' however, clientelism is transformed rather than undermined. In fact, the repositioning of clientelistic networks around broader channels of socio-political organisation can only occur because patrons and brokers have privileged contacts with actors from the same channels of socio-political organisation. This places them in a position to access resources and influence their subsequent delivery or distribution. Patrons and brokers therefore act as gatekeepers to these linkages, and in this sense can be called 'network specialists' (Boissevain 1974). Indeed, and quite paradoxically, the insistence on 'direct access' to resources controlled by the leadership at the centre of society and their 'fairer redistribution', increases "de facto the importance of mediators in shaping and especially in implementing redistributive policies" (Eisenstadt and Roniger 1984: 239). Ideologies therefore help shroud in mystery the reworking of socio-political arrangements.

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Although the case studies offered by Eisenstadt and Roniger mostly refer to the activities of political party actors, they acknowledge that other frameworks (such as trade unions, bureaucracies and so on) may induce the construction of networks of organisational clientelistic brokerage. I would suggest that the NGO community in Bangladesh is another organisational form that has affected clientelistic networks. In the early part of this chapter, I argued that Shammo's initial success lay in its ability to construct clientelistic networks which competed with rival factions. In that process, Shammo and in particular Kayesh have become a framework within which a particular type of clientelistic network has emerged, and which is different from the one engendered by more traditional patrons such as Saidur Chairman, Halim Chairman and Nazmul Chairman. The most significant difference between the two organisational forms lies in the fact that Shammo acts as a gatekeeper to a greater number of broad and central channels of socio-political organisation in Bangladesh. These linkages are activated and consolidated through the position Kayesh holds and the relationship he maintains with the wider NGO and other `development focused' communities. The NGO community is Kayesh's 'friends'; and the influence, leverage and contacts that the NGO community possesses are his 'friends of friends'. Kayesh's power and leverage therefore are related to his ability to act as a gatekeeper to these sources of authority and power.3

This `NIGO community' has a number of characteristics which are important for our discussion. First of all, it perceives its role as one of breaking down the monopolistic control that established power holders retain over the poor. Discourses based therefore on the principles of 'direct access' to resources and their subsequent 'fairer distribution' are important to the NGO community. Secondly, the same community has become an important player among the major coalitions existing at the centre of society in Bangladesh. Furthermore, it does not depend on the support of the local established power elite to maintain this position. In the proposition I am forwarding therefore, the wider NGO community would represent the 'centrally based, high profile and relative autonomous structure' alluded to in Eisenstadt and Roniger's work. Again, the model I am inferring is best illustrated with a diagram.

3 Here I give the impression that Kayesh and the NGO community are quite separate agents. This is exaggerated. Towards the end of the previous chapter, I argued that Kayesh is in fact a key actor and strategist of the wider NGO community. 183

Diagram 5: Organisational Clientelistic Brokerage

The diagram offers only a partial view of the whole network. Like Kayesh and Shammo, there are many other NGOs who associate themselves, as I explained in chapter two, with the wider NGO community in Bangladesh. These too act as gatekeepers to the same central coalition of actors for their respective clients. The diagram also fails to capture the links and relationships nurtured by the NGO community itself (the 'friends of friends'). These are however explored in different parts of the thesis. What the diagram does do however is indicate the process whereby different gatekeepers within the NGO organisation-brokerage network use the contacts, organisation, solidarity and discourses of the NGO community to try and wrestle control from local monopolistic patrons like Saidur Chairman and Halim Chairman. Kayesh in effect appeals to and identifies himself with a higher authority in his struggle with local patrons. The commitment of this authority to transform monopolistic structures and open access to resources for the poor resounds with what Shammo claims to be doing in practice. Kayesh therefore has to mediate between and align the discourse of the higher authority and the local reality facing Shammo and its members. To the extent that he is successful in doing this, he gains increasing access to support, information, services and funds which the higher authority either possesses or can broker. This enables Kayesh to strengthen his position locally over established power domains.

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The proposition I am forwarding rests on two presumptions: a) that the 'wider NGO community' is a significant central coalition in society with a degree of relative autonomy vis a vis social forces at the local level, and b) that Kayesh can effectively operate as a gatekeeper aligning his clientelistic network with the wider 'NG community'. While some of the material already presented in the thesis tentatively supports these statements, in what remains of this chapter I will try to focus more specifically on both aspects of the NGO organisational-brokerage framework. Chapters seven and eight will then look at how this particular configuration reorganises access to and behaviour in policy and electoral domains.

6.2 The NGO Community

The relative autonomous and yet centrally significant position of the NGO community in Bangladesh is most clearly manifested in the social and political value ADAB has acquired throughout the 1990s. In its early years, ADAB was a relatively marginal actor in Bangladesh and lacked any precise and effective development focus. 31 Towards the end of the 1980s however, three important changes occurred in ADAB:

a) a constitutional reform ensured better representation of different types of NG0s32 b) the organisation began to be less involved in implementing development activities and instead focus more on representing its members, c) it began to issue public statements claiming a more significant role for NGOs in the national context.

These public statements are highly significant and have already been referred to in the thesis. The title of the first of these statements Unnayan o Ganatantrayaner Nunotom Kormosuci (Basic Guidelines of Development and Democracy) gives an indication of the path the NGO community wanted to follow. Issued in 1991, the document identifies six main areas of NGO engagement. Revealingly, poverty alleviation (traditionally the specialist area of NGO intervention) appears second in the list of six, coming after the proposed role of NGOs in establishing and protecting meaningful democracy, human rights, as well as law and order. The

31 ADAB was established as the Association of Voluntary Agencies in Bangladesh (AVAB) in 1973. In 1976 it became the Agricultural Development Agencies in Bangladesh (ADAB). While the focus of AVAB was on information sharing, that of ADAB was on agricultural promotion. As NGOs multiplied, the idea emerged of creating a representative apex body for NGOs and so in 1983 the Association of Development Agencies Bangladesh was born. 32 The constitutional reform laid out guidelines for the structuring of ADAB's Executive Committee (EC). 16 NGO members would be elected to the EC and of these 2 would come from international NG0s, 4 from national NG05, 8 from local NGOs and 2 from Women's organisations. This same representative structure exists today.

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importance of this document is that it is the first statement we have from the NGO community in Bangladesh in which they openly associate themselves with a public, political role. Both the tone and priorities of this document have been elaborated in subsequent ADAB documents.33

A number of public and politicised events, outlined in chapter two, 34 quickly tested the NGO community's commitment to this more pronounced role. Two general observations can be made here about how these events developed. First of all, the fact that ADAB became a focus of such attention indicates the socio-political value accorded to it by other elites positioned at the centre (political parties, bureaucracies and other interest groups). Secondly, the fact that ADAB subsequently defended itself against different threats and strategies of other influential coalitions (positioned at or very close to the very locus of power at the centre) indicates that it had acquired a certain degree of socio-political clout and autonomy. Interestingly, in their engagement with these different elite coalitions at the centre, the NGO community often made use of its stated commitment to changing those structures and processes which oppressed the poor, to legitimise their own positions and actions. The autonomy of the NGO community is however a relative autonomy in that although it is not entirely or overtly co-opted by leading coalitions at the centre, the NGO community remains dependent on retaining contacts with formal channels of power in society. Without these contacts, NGOs fail to deliver as gatekeepers.

That ADAB has gained some sort of socio-political value can also be deduced from the reactions of NGO members themselves. Whereas before, NGOs were generally disinterested or dismissive of ADAB, now many NGOs are actively engaged in strategies devised to compete for the control of ADAB. The clearest sign of this change was the emergence for the first time of I NGO panels' in the elections for the ADAB Executive Committee held in 1998. These panels consisted of two alliances of NG0s, led by Qazi Faruque Ahmed of Proshika and Abed of BRAC. 35 As may be recalled, these two figures were at the centre of the debate regarding NGO neutrality following the non-cooperation movement in 1996. 36 The emergence of factional alignments of NGO members within ADAB has become an important part of discussions on NG0s, and reflects the principles of fission and fusion which I argued

33 The other major documents are ADAB (1996a, 1996b, 1997 and Trinamul 1996). 34 See chapter two, section 5 on the 1991 and 1996 political crisis, the threat of 'fundamentalism and the cancellation of ADAB's registration. There is no documented evidence that these panels existed or that they were led by the people I have identified. My speculations are based on interviews with key informants who identified themselves with one panel or the other. Of particular importance for me was a meeting which had been organised for my benefit with a group of seven national mid-level NGO leaders. During this meeting, the leaders outlined in detail their plan to wrestle control of ADAB from its present chairperson and his group (do!). The evidence I have therefore is limited, but it is not mere opinion and rumour.
36 35

See chapter two, section 6.

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characterises the NGO community in Bangladesh. 37 On the one hand, this internal competition reveals the growing significance of ADAB's role in accessing valuable external relationships, connections and resources. As stated in chapter three, the possibility of accessing new resources and opportunities often catalyses inter-factional competition (Nicholas 1966, Bailey 1970, McGregor 1989a, Wood 1994). On the other hand, the emergence of factional alignments reminds us again that it is impossible to divorce institutions from personalities in Bangladesh for it is the latter which breathes life into the former. So even if, as I have argued here, ADAB has attained a relative degree of institutional autonomy and leverage, this has been engineered and is sustained by individual and personal contacts.

6.3 Linking the Local Context

Kayesh's position within the organisational brokerage framework enables him to access influential macro- level contacts. As I outlined in the previous chapter, these links have helped Kayesh negotiate financial security for Shammo, temporarily resolve the struggle for power around Boro Bagher Beel in Shammo's favour, address the situation of those members and staff in jail, and catapult himself and his organisation onto different national and international platforms.

The full dynamic of organisational brokerage however cannot be fully appreciated by looking solely at the fortunes of one particular organisation. In fact one of the characteristics of organisational brokerage frameworks is that they link and integrate different institutions across different levels (Eisenstadt and Roniger 1984: 234). There are a number of ways to explore this process and clearly the emergence of the Trinamul Janasangathan38 is a concrete example of an institutional form which involves the integration and collaboration of members from different NG05. However this is a nascent institutional form and more time is needed to observe how and if it evolves. For this reason, I will focus on a different case study to explore the dynamics and processes whereby different actors are brought together under an organisational brokerage structure in which Kayesh plays the role of gatekeeper. The focus of the case study falls not on Shammo's members, but on NGOs themselves. This is an interesting way to approach the question for Kayesh does not have a monopolistic hold over these other NG0s. This allows us therefore an unusual insight into both the significance and dynamics of networks of organisational clientelistic brokerage.

37 See chapter two, section 6.2. 38 See chapter one, section 1.

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The first major network established in the District where Shammo was working, was a group called the Community Development Programme (CDP). There were six similar networks organised in other Districts of Bangladesh and these were all financed through a co-ordinating agency situated in Dhaka. Through contacts in Dhaka, Kayesh convinced the co-ordinating agency to set up the CDP network in Shammo's district. Since Kayesh had sole links with the co-ordinating agency, and since he managed to recruit 18 local NGOs as members of the CDP, he was appointed the first co-ordinator of the new network.

One of the reasons Kayesh had been so enthusiastic about the CDP was that he saw it as a way of strengthening his credibility in Dhaka where he was busy trying to secure funding for Shammo, following DONOR A's decision to initiate a 'non-funding relationship' with Shammo. The Director of the CDP funding agency empathised with Kayesh's predicament and as their contacts became more frequent, she tried to help by putting him in contact with one of CDP's advisory board members. This particular member was eventually to play a pivotal role in helping Shammo establish contacts with DONORS B and C. This classic case of a 'friend of a friend helping another friend' (Boissevain 1974) turned into an altogether different affair however when a clash between the Director and the advisory board member resulted in the latter resigning from the board.

With the resignation, Kayesh found himself between two loyalties. Although the other members of the local District based COP perceived the whole affair as a personal matter and advised Kayesh to simply ignore it, Kayesh was making different calculations about where best to 'invest' his loyalty. Both the Director and advisory member had equally strong profiles within the wider NGO community, but the advisory member had more established, independent and stronger links with the donor community. Not surprisingly, Kayesh therefore resigned from the CDP and repositioned his and Shammo's allegiances around the ex-advisory board member. In resigning, he informed his fellow local CDP members that he would no longer be able to work with organisations which maintained their relationship with the COP co-ordinating agency in Dhaka. In short, Kayesh was asking the local NGOs to reposition their loyalties around him, to trust him and offer their allegiance. While some of the smaller NGOs immediately responded to Kayesh, the bigger and more established ones to do so. Most NGOs struggle to find resources and the more established NGOs could not afford to turn their backs on the CDP for it promised a stable flow of goods and resources. They complained that Kayesh was being unreasonable, suspected him of 'selling them out' and accused him of generally being too bossy (matobbori kora). The 20 or so local NGOs that worked together under CDP were

39 There were basically four bigger local NG0s. These are all ADAB central committee members (therefore working in at least 10 thanas) and have received funds (between 2 and 3 lac taka) from another leading NGO in Dhaka. Kayesh however had arranged both the funds and the ADAB central membership for all four.

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therefore split into two groups: those 'with' and those 'against' Kayesh.

Not long after resigning from the CDP, Kayesh set up a second network and called it the Local Regional Development Forum (LRDF). Initially 14 local NGOs became members of the LRDF and funding for the network was offered by another funding agency in Dhaka with whom Kayesh had excellent relations. 40 All of these 14 NGOs had been or were still members of the CDP. The struggle to secure funds was such that even the bigger NGOs who had so openly criticised Kayesh's behaviour with CDP became members of the LRDF.

One of the items to be tackled in the first official meeting of the LRDF was that of electing a president. Controversially, Kayesh's nomination was not even seconded and instead the Director of one of the other bigger NG05, which had been so critical of Kayesh, was elected. This whole strategy had been orchestrated by the leaders of the bigger NGOs who wanted to let Kayesh know that they were not prepared to let him always have his own way. Kayesh had been caught strategically unprepared and realising his authority had been challenged for a second time, he immediately withdrew his support for the LRDF which he himself had established.

Again he set about creating a third network and this time, he called it the Forum for Local Regional Development (FLRD). The name was deliberately provocative. Kayesh was angry because with the defiance of the other NGOs his reputation was being called into question. Two NGO networks therefore co-existed which became in effect rival organisations. This time, members of the LRDF could not, by Kader's instructions, be members of the FLRD. The most important difference between the two organisations was the question of linkages. Unlike Kayesh, the president of the LRDF had no contacts with politicians, bureaucrats, donors and the wider NGO community. Moreover, since Kayesh was the link between the LRDF and the funding agency in Dhaka and was a member of the executive board of the latter, the LRDF had little, if any, long term funding possibilities. All the local NGOs were well aware of this and as soon as the FLRD had been established, shifts in alliances took place.

All the smaller NGOs with no resources immediately joined the FLRD. These were the same NGOs which had least difficulty in leaving CDP and the same NGOs who openly referred to Kayesh as their moner neta (the leader of our hearts or souls). 41 Their survival depended on Kayesh. The bigger NGOs on the other hand put up some form of resistance and again accused Kayesh of unfairly imposing his will on everyone else. Since this whole affair evolved

In fact, Kayesh was on the executive board of this second funding agency and the ex-advisory member of CDP was also a strong supporter of and key actor in the same organisation. 41 Moner neta was the phrase used by the samity members to describe Kayesh and Anwarul (see section 5.2.1 of this chapter).

40

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while I was in Bangladesh, I spent time speaking to the leaders of the bigger NGOs about the whole affair. It always seemed a strange environment in which a kind of game was being played. All the players taking part in this game knew the final state of play long before the game ended Kayesh would eventually win. Despite their resistance, the leaders of the bigger NGOs knew they could not bypass or compete with Kayesh for he was the one with all the contacts and contracts. Their resistance simply enabled them to hold out for a better deal. As one of the leaders put it: "if Kayesh wants to be our moner neta too, all he has to do is give us some work or funds."

The leaders of the bigger NGOs could risk holding out for a better deal because they knew that Kayesh needed their support. Although Kayesh was powerful where the other leaders were weak (i.e. he had contacts), his position as a gatekeeper within the organisational-brokerage structure depended to a certain extent on his ability to command the loyalty of local NG05, and to represent their interests in Dhaka. "He needs us, just as much as we need him" I was often told. Ultimately however, all the actors involved had to be careful not to risk too much for if Kayesh could or did not present a unified and well managed front in Dhaka, all the local organisations stood equally to lose.

In 1996, an opportunity emerged for Kayesh to become the moner neta of the bigger NG05. He encouraged the bigger NGOs to take part in the voter education programme which he was coordinating in the District. Funds were available for this programme and Kayesh was therefore also responsible for managing and distributing these funds among the NGOs active in the programme. At the same time, he also informed local NGOs that he was looking for partners to implement a major GO-NGO Water Board project which would last at least five years. None of the four bigger NGOs was in a position to refuse what was being offered to them. Their limited funds were coming to an end and both the CDP and LRDF had by this time no co-ordinator, no funds and no programme. The voter education programme and the GO-NGO Water Board project were important incentives which enabled them to start finding ways of formally joining the FLRD

By the time the bigger NGOs had decided to move their allegiance from the LRDF to FLRD, Kayesh was already developing even bigger plans. While Shammo as an organisation had a good reputation in Dhaka, Kayesh realised that the support of his samities was not enough. Leadership of NGO networks was an important way of furthering his claim to being an important gatekeeper in the networks built around organisational brokerage. Having therefore negotiated more funding in Dhaka, he disbanded the FLRD (before it ever really started) and in 1998 created another network called JOMI. This new network focused exclusively on the question of land, Kayesh's forte. It had even more members (40 NG0s), bigger and more

42

In chapter eight, I will give more details of the voter education programme.

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established NG0s, and greater geographical coverage (extending throughout the whole of the North West of Bangladesh). In the first meeting of JOMI, Kayesh was elected president for five years. This time no-one dared oppose his nomination. The lesson, it would appear, had been learnt.

Networks are by now an established part of the NGO landscape in Bangladesh. While advocates of network structures rightly point out that they enable greater co-operation and coordination, the fortunes of the CDP, LRDF, FLRD and JOMI reveal an equally important dimension of networks - their ability to organise NGOs in a cogent and coherent political way. When Kayesh aligns himself with key actors situated at the centre of the organisationalbrokerage framework, he expects his followers (NG0s, members or otherwise) to support and follow him. The key function of his gatekeeping role is that he filters or is perceived to filter, the flow of relationships and resources between forces at the centre and those at the periphery of the same organisational framework. In the context of scarce resources, the gatekeeper is a powerful figure who, as the case study highlights, is often caught between being perceived as a moner neta or as an imposing boss (matobbori kora).

7. CONCLUSION

In this chapter, I have made a number of arguments. First of all, I showed how Shammo's rise to ascendancy at the local level was related to its ability to compete and win over rival faction leaders. To this extent, Shammo and Kayesh have undermined local factional configurations and they now lead the single biggest constituency around Boro Bagher Beel. However, I have also tried to show that the clientelistic network built around Shammo is distinct from traditional patron frameworks. Shammo is an important framework within which networks of organisational clientelistic brokerage are formed. Its position as a gatekeeper within this network facilitates and legitimises its activities locally. The fundamental relationship in this organisational brokerage network is the one between Kayesh and the wider NGO community.

Kayesh is a gatekeeper. He links local contexts to national and global ones and vice versa, as well as filters the flows and communication between them. The process is iterative. Thus positions gained at the supra-local level help increase and legitimise the exercise of leverage at the local level. Equally, in order to present himself as a significant actor at the supra-local level, Kayesh needs to show that he is capable of exercising authority at the local level. The gatekeeping function therefore is not only restricted to Shammo's activities and members. In fact, Kayesh acts as a gatekeeper to other local development actors such as NG0s. While the look to Kayesh to access resources and contacts, he looks to them for support and loyalty as he attempts to strengthen his position in the overall organisational-brokerage framework. 191

While the literature tends to argue that NGO leadership is ideally a transient phenomenon in that its ultimate objective is to empower its members (Uphoff eta! 1998: 45, Korten 1990), the evidence presented in this chapter suggests that in Bangladesh the NGO leadership pattern is much more structured, entrenched and permanent. In the chapter which follows, I examine how the relationships and networks described in this chapter, influence the direction and flow of policy resources. An important dimension of this analysis will look at how the 'leadershipfollowing' relationship comes to structure welfare and entitlement claims and strategies.

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CHAPTER SEVEN

SHAMMO AND THE poucy PROCESS

1. INTRODUCTION

The literature has shown considerable interest in the relationship between NGOs and policy. In fact the relationship is such that one author has gone as far as arguing that "the fundamental objective of an NGO is to influence public policy from outside the formal structure of elected government" (McCormick 1993, in Najam 1999: 147, emphasis added). With the advent of the 'new policy agenda' (Edwards and Hulme 1995), NGOs have seen themselves promoted from the more discrete task of filling in policy gaps to becoming important advocates on different regional, national and international policy platforms.

Once again, Bangladesh offers a good example of the different ways NGOs have assumed a more prominent profile in the policy domain. First of all, there are a number of important policy areas such as education, health, banking, agriculture and forestry where NGOs have become or are on the road to becoming the "preferred channel for providing services in deliberate substitution of the state" (Hulme and Edwards 1997a: 6). Secondly, NGOs have also diversified their policy roles over the years. While initially concerned with policies related to channelling relief and welfare resources to the poor, NGOs now find themselves addressing a wide variety of policy concerns in Bangladesh. McGregor et al (1999) for example, identify four broad policy strategies adopted by NGOs in Bangladesh: acquisitive (securing access to resources), protective (maintaining control over resources), statutory (altering rules or laws over access to resources) and transformative (altering norms, values and institutions governing access to resources) (McGregor et a/ 1999: 36). The fact that NGOs have increased their policy prominence and diversified their policy strategies explains a third feature of NGO policy involvement: the rise of professional and specialist policy advocates. Thus in Bangladesh, institutions such as the Institute for Development Policy Analysis and Advocacy (IDPAA) of Proshika and the development management centre within BRAC have been created to develop policy strategies and positions for their respective organisations. A recent report from the IDPAA reveals how organisations such as Proshika are engaged in a number of complex campaigns focusing on issues such as chemical pesticides, ecological agriculture, arsenic contamination, pro-poor national budget and national five year plan, forest issues, resettlement of urban poor, fisheries management and development, credit to the poor, local government, and lobbying against environmental disasters (IDPAA 1997).

An important document, commissioned and published by the World Bank, explicitly acknowledges the growing involvement of NGOs in the Bangladesh policy domain by stating that a "recent phenomenon in the evolution of NGOs has been the incorporation by some NGOs of lobbying and advocacy activities designed to change public policy rather than simply implementing village level projects" (World Bank 1996: 6). On the whole, the report endorses this role for NGOs and is representative of the wider donor position in Bangladesh which supports and promotes the increasing participation of NGOs in policy arenas. In his reflection on 194

the increased policy salience of NGOs in Bangladesh however, Wood (1997) warns of a potential long-term danger. By increasingly taking over the responsibility of delivering major services in society (a characteristic of the new policy agenda), NGOs may be contributing to what he has described as the problem of the 'franchise state'. The notion of the 'franchise state' is both paradoxical and problematic. The paradox is that while the new policy agenda seeks to promote better or good governance, the fact that it entails the privatisation of the functions of the state may render, in its extreme form, the notion of democracy and governance 'toothless and meaningless" (Wood 1997: 81). This statement leads to a deeper analysis of the potential political problems contained in the notion of the franchise state for the privatisation of the functions of the state could in extremis herald the emergence of a scenario captured by the subtitle to Wood's paper, i.e. 'states without citizens'.

2. UNDERSTANDING POLICY CONTEXTS AND NETWORKS

Although this chapter focuses on the experience of Shammo in the policy context of khasdistribution, I intend looking at this experience in such a way that more general insights pertinent to the wider 'NGO-policy domain' nexus in Bangladesh may also be generated. In order to do this, I will make use of a paradigm which has been elaborated in and is normally associated with the study of policy-making processes especially in the West, namely, policy network analysis.

The breadth and scope of the literature on policy networks is vast and contains a rich variety of concepts, ideas, nomenclatures, typologies and theories (Borzel 1998). Since I cannot afford a full discussion of this vast literature here, I limit myself to outlining the selective way I intend using the concept of policy networks in this chapter.

One of the major contributions to the policy network literature can be found in the work of Rod Rhodes (Rhodes 1990, 1997, Marsh and Rhodes 1992). He adopts the notion of policy networks as a generic interpretative framework to a) identify organisations within the policymaking process, b) explore their inter relationships, and c) analyse the outcomes of the ensuing interactions. Following Benson (1982), Rhodes defines policy networks as "a cluster or complex of organisations connected to one another by resource dependencies" (Rhodes 1997: 37).

The notions of exchange and inter-dependence are central to Rhodes' formulation. Networks therefore consist of distinctive yet interdependent organisations which interact and exchange resources (potential or real) in order to achieve particular goals or outcomes (Rhodes 1997). Organisations enter into these networks of exchange because they are not in a position to achieve their stated goals autonomously. Policies that derive from these networks can therefore

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be seen as the outcome of 'bargaining games' in which different sets of players use their existing real and potential resources to gain advantage or exert influence over each other. Since networks entail bargaining games, they have observable rules and patterns like any other social game (Bailey 1970). One of the objectives of this chapter is to identify and analyse some of these patterns.

Marsh and Rhodes (1992) advance Benson's (1982) original definition of policy networks to construct a framework consisting of five types of networks which are positioned along a continuum with a policy community type at one end and an issue network type at the other. Four criteria are used to distinguish these networks: membership, integration, resources and power. In Table 3, I reproduce the characteristics of the two ideal types most often used in policy analysis: policy communities and issue networks.'

Table 3: The Rhodes-Marsh Typology of Policy Networks

Criteria 1. Membership

Policy Community Limited numbers, some consciously excluded Frequent interaction, continuity of values and outcomes, and consensus seeking All participants have resources and relationship is one of exchange and bargaining. Leaders can deliver members Members believe their interaction will produce positive sum outcomes

Issue Network Large number of participants

2. Integration

Fluctuating interaction, discontinuity of access, more conflictual

3. Resource Distribution

Not all members have resources and therefore relationship is consultative. Leaders have less capacity to regulate members Unequal resources, power and access. The interaction will produce zero sum outcomes

4. Power

Adapted from Marsh and Rhodes (1992) and Rhodes (1997)

The argument that I will develop in this chapter is that in Bangladesh, policy is primarily constructed through different policy communities consisting of a limited number of actors who are engaged in frequent exchanges and bargaining in order to pursue particular agendas which

1 The other network types are professional, intergovernmental and product ones.

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the actors themselves believe will benefit their respective interests. According to this perspective then, the observation that NGOs in Bangladesh have become important policy actors (World Bank 1996) implies that they have successfully negotiated their entry and established their membership in different policy communities. The case study presented in the chapter will explore how Shammo, together with other interested NG0s, secured membership in a particular policy community and how they subsequently made strategic use of the space they had acquired. One of the interesting features of this case study is that it is perhaps the first clear historical example of NGOs acquiring formal recognition in a policy community in Bangladesh.

The most frequent criticism levelled at policy network analysis is that it merely describes relationships between actors, but holds little, if any, robust explanatory power (Dowding 1995, Thatcher 1998). Atthough this criticism cannot be fully addressed here, 2 in this chapter I intend moving beyond a mere passive description of policy communities to offer an ethnographical account of how they are composed and maintained. In this way, I hope to offer a more explanatory analysis of policy communities. To facilitate this, it is useful and necessary to a) couch policy network analysis in a more general conceptualisation of the policy process, and b) prioritise the notion of power in the analysis.

The general conceptualisation of policy which the policy network analysis is best adapted to is the 'political systems' model. In contrast to the 'policy process' model which perceives policy as an ordered, sequential and purposive process bringing together self-contained but mutually dependent policy stages and actors, the 'political systems' model holds that policy is the main output of a complex political system. 3 In this political system, negotiations occur between a number of actors who hold either converging or competing views, and seek to articulate and then actualise particular policy objectives. Policy evolves therefore not from a single rational decision, but from a "web of decisions" (Ham and Hill 1993: 12) or "decision network" (Hill 1997: 7) - phrases which already have strong affinities with the notion of 'policy networks'. Both the policy network and 'political systems' literatures assert that policy is neither formulated nor implemented in socio-political vacuums, but is a socially embedded process conditioned by and conditioning what occurs in the 'real world'. The move from description to explanation in this context entails being able to situate and analyse policy networks in their wider socio-political contexts.

One of the main implications of perceiving policy as the result of a complex web of decisions is that analysis is sensitised to the fact that the policy process is both constituted by

2 Many proponents of policy network analysis would in any event refute the argument that their frameworks are over descriptive and not explanatory (Rhodes 1997). 3 The process model and the political system model are commonly discussed in the policy literature. The former is associated with the work of Harold Lasswell and the latter with that of David Easton. For fuller discussions on both models see Jenkins (1978) and Ham and Hill (1993).

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and constitutive of the exercise and distribution of power (Hill 1997, Ham and Hill 1993). Even if policy networks are characterised as adhering to a continuity of values and consensus (Rhodes 1997 and see Table 3), this does not exclude the possibility that these networks are both internally and externally, competitive and contested institutional arrangements. Networks impinge on the ongoing articulation of power in society because they have the authority inter alia to:

limit participation in the policy-process, define the roles of actors, decide which issues will be included and excluded from policy agendas, shape the behaviour of actors through the rules of the game, privilege certain interests not only by according access but also by favouring preferred policy outcomes (Rhodes 1997: 9-10).

The case study used in this chapter will show how in fact features of solidarity and exclusion, consensus and contestation coexist and are reinforced through the creation of policy communities. Before turning to the case study however, it is necessary to give a general introduction to the policy context of Bangladesh and situate the NGO community therein. To make this brief introduction as relevant as possible, I intend building the discussion around the specific issue which will be discussed throughout the rest of this chapter, i.e. khas-distribution.

3. THE POLICY PROCESS IN BANGLADESH

As mentioned in the previous two chapters, Shammo has from its earliest days identified itself almost exclusively with the struggle for khas land. Khas refers to 'unoccupied' land which the government legally owns but which has not been acquired for specific projects. This land is registered in the Register VIII of the Government Estate Manual (later amended as Land Management Manual) and is managed by the Ministry of Land. Although the legal framework that designates land as khas has changed overtime, the main sources of khas are:

Land already possessed by the Government, Accredited lands from the sea or rivers, Land vested in the government as ceiling surplus, Land purchased by the government in auction sales, Miscellaneous sources such as surrendered, abandoned or confiscated land (Momen 1996: 100).

4 The term unoccupied land is a misnomer for the scarcity of land in Bangladesh is such that all land is in some way occupied.
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The wider policy context in which the question of khas distribution is located is that of land reform.5 To date there have been three significant pieces of land reform legislations in Bangladesh: the East Bengal State Acquisition and Tenancy Act of 1950, several Presidential Orders in 1972 and the Bangladesh Land Reforms Ordinance of 1984. All three pieces of legislation in one form or another contain provisions for the redistribution of public land. While in 1950 the intended beneficiaries of the redistribution measures were families of refugees, ex-rent receivers or members of the armed forces (Momen 1996), in 1972, landless families were also included in the priority list. On both occasions however, the actual record of redistribution fell far short of intended objectives. The most common reasons given for these failures are a) the definition of family' was vague and loose, and as a consequence easily manipulated, b) there was no policy implementation machinery in place and c) the responsibility for identifying land for distribution was entrusted to landowners themselves (Siddiqui et a/ 1988: 26).

Since land is a scarce but much sought after resource, it is not surprising to discover that the distribution of khas lands has always been a very insecure, hotly disputed and often violent process (Jansen 1987). The literature offers numerous accounts of local elites blatantly ignoring official policy statements in order to control and manage the redistributive process as they themselves saw fit. The story of Selim Ali, recounted in the previous chapter, 6 reflects this well. Although he possessed an official document stating that he had been legally allocated khas land, he was powerless to resist Saidur Chairman who later took his land by force.

Selim Ali's case however is neither isolated nor does it reflect the dynamics of khas policy alone. In fact his story reveals certain characteristics of the policy context in Bangladesh which are structural, persistent and widespread. Since elites operate as intermediaries between the state and the rural poor (see chapter three), they are in an advantaged position to extract the maximum share of whatever resources and surplus are available. In doing so, they know that the possibility of sanctions are minimal. The following observation of Hossain and Jones (1983) on land reform attempts in Bangladesh is insightful in this regard.

National politicians and bureaucrats are often themselves large landowners and even if they are not, they depend on rich peasants both for political support and to ensure that the countryside remains reasonably tranquil. To attack the interests of this dominant class would be political suicide for any of the political parties. (Hossain and Jones 1983: 180)

The focus of this chapter however remains that of khas-distribution and not land reform. Although these two are linked, they are not the same. In Bangladesh, land reform debates are normally framed around demands for land ceilings and tenure reform. However since over half the rural population is already landless and the agrarian structure is devoid of significant landlordism, the call for redistributive land reforms is in many ways unrealistic (Wood 1994). The question of khas-distribution is not any less ambitious than the call for radical land reform, but ft is decidedly more realistic. The policy concern surrounding khas-distribution seeks to strengthen the claim of the poor on state owned land which has already been designated for distribution among the poor. 6 See chapter six, section 4.

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In 1980, Merilee Grindle edited a collection of essays focusing on a range of policy experiences from different developing countries. On the whole, this important collection paints a very similar picture to the one sketched out by Hossain and Jones for Bangladesh. In the introduction to the essays, Grindle argues that the poor have no direct access to the policy making process since the organisations capable of effectively representing their interests "tend to be the creatures of wealthy and powerful groups such as bankers, industrialists, and landowners" (Grindle 1980: 16). Since the poor cannot directly access the policy making process and since those acting on their behalf are controlled or co-opted by the ruling elite, the only real option left for the poor is to present their policy demands retrospectively i.e. at the implementation stage. The poor therefore wait for policy handouts. The essays presented by Grindle therefore show how "factions, patron-client linkages, ethnic ties, and personal coalitions" (Grindle 1980: 18) become the only and probably safest mechanism for negotiating an otherwise arbitrary, ad hoc and unpredictable policy process.7

It is significant for our discussion here that the book edited by Grindle was published in 1980 placing it chronologically before the 'new policy agenda' which has encouraged the involvement of non-state actors like NGOs in national and international policy domains. Almost twenty years later, two relevant claims are often made by and of NGOs in relation to the policy process. First of all, NGOs have become effective intermediaries for articulating and representing the demands of the poor in the policy process not only retrospectively (i.e. at the implementation stage) but also prospectively (i.e. at the formulation stage). In short, NGOs ensure that the policy process is no longer inaccessible to the poor. Secondly, the greater involvement of NGOs in policy arenas has meant that gradually the whole process has become less controlled by the inequities, irrationalities and arbitrariness of patron based politics. The NGO discourse speaks instead of accountability, transparency, equal access and so on. In the previous chapter both these points were raised in the discussion of the characteristics of clientelistic networks based on organisational brokerage. There I stated that the patrons and brokers of these particular networks tend to emphasise the idea of establishing more direct access to and a fairer redistribution of resources.

This chapter will look at both these claims. The material presented below focuses on the specific question of NGO involvement in the policy of khas-distribution. Using the notion of policy networks as an organising framework, the material is ordered around two main concerns: a) how NGOs move into a position from where they can access resources, and b) how they use their position to influence the eventual distribution of the same resources.

This seems to reinforce the idea elaborated in chapter three, section 6 that the poor often have to construct their livelihoods by 'adversely incorporating' or aligning themselves with the very structures and relationships which impede them from making their demands directly.

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4. JOINING THE GAME TO CAPTURE RESOURCES

On the 1 st of July 1987, the Ministry of Land (MOL) published a circular entitled Land Reforms Action Programme. 8 Commonly referred to as the Nitimala (Guidelines), this document turned out to be highly significant for a number of reasons. First of all, it was written by a group working within the MOL known as the Land Reform Cell (LRC) which was staffed and financially supported by NG0s. The LRC represented an unprecedented form of GO-NGO co-operation in which NGOs were literally proposing and drafting land-related laws and recommendations which were then submitted to the government. Secondly, the document dealt exclusively with the distribution of khas land to landless families. Although announced as a component of a longer-term commitment to land reform (Nitimala 1), the document effectively turned the more specific question of khas-distribution into the centrepiece of the government's land reform programme. Thirdly, the document, as we will see in more detail below, officially recognised the role of NGOs and their organised samity groups in the formulation and implementation of khasdistribution policy. The significance of the document has not been lost to academics and practitioners alike. Rahman at al (1991) for example describe it as "one of the most useful and practical documents ever produced in the chronicle of land reform measures in Bangladesh" (Rahman et al 1991: 20), while another author commented that it was "a major exercise in land distribution" (Momen 1996: 104). Those involved from the donor community were also enthusiastic about the LRC initiative and the Nitimala document. One of the donor representatives most involved in the whole experience told me in an interview that it was "one of the most exciting times in the history of NGOs in Bangladesh and without doubt, the most exciting experience I was ever involved in while in Bangladesh" (personal interview, source not referenced to safeguard anonymity).

The Nitimala contains 162 sections and addresses in a comprehensive and codified manner, a whole spectrum of issues related to khas land including its definition, the distribution procedure and post land-settlement strategies. There are three main points addressed in the Nitimala which are particularly relevant to the discussion here.

First of all, the beneficiaries of the programme are identified as landless families, defined as those dependent on agriculture but possessing less than 0.50 acres (Nitimala: 41-44). Importantly for NG0s, the document also recognises that "[where] landless farmers co-operative society or group organised by a nominated NGO or other government, semi-government or autonomous body is available, all available khas lands will be distributed to the members of such society on priority basis" (Nitimala: 75).

8 References from the document (MOL 1987) are here reported simply as Nitimala. A translation of most
of the text can be found in Ahmad (1991: 62-100).

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Secondly, the document announced the establishment of three bodies responsible for the programme: the National Land Reforms Council (NLRFC) presided over by President Ershad, the District Land Reforms Implementation Task Force (DLRITF) and the Upazila Land Reforms Committee (ULRC) (Nitimala: 9-14). Crucially, NGO representatives were officially allocated a position on both the DLRITF and the ULRC, while landless members were offered a place on the ULRC. NGOs therefore held positions at national (LRC), district (DLRITF) and local (ULRC) levels, enabling them to co-ordinate their activities in a way which had never been known before.

Thirdly, the document assigns particular responsibilities to NGOs besides those already alluded to above. So for example, NGOs are asked to help identify khas land (Nitimala: 20), publicise the land reform programme and offer support to landless applicants throughout the whole process (Nitimala: 121, a-j), and finally, form co-operative groups among those who receive khas land (Nitimala: 139-141).

The Nitimala signalled the beginning of a five-year programme involving Government and NGOs to distribute khas land to landless families on a permanent basis. Although initially the Government had identified 800,000 acres of khas land, it was generally understood that this was but the tip of the iceberg. 9 The programme was divided into three phases: one year of preparatory work, three years to actually distribute the land and one year to evaluate the whole experience.

Although the whole programme was very ambitious, expectations that it could be successfully implemented were also very high. The main cause for such optimism was based on the fact that an institutional framework had been devised and established to actually implement the programme, a framework which relied heavily on NGO participation. NGOs were effectively running the LRC which was ultimately responsible for supervising, controlling, evaluating, monitoring and publicising all aspects of the land reform programme (Nitimala: 115). The position of NGOs was further strengthened by the fact that interested NGOs separately formed an NGO Co-ordinating Council for Land Reform Programme (NCCLRP) to support the work of the LRC. This council carried out a number of activities, including a) devising policy positions to present to the government, b) supplying personnel and resources for the LRC, c) proposing suitable NGOs as representatives on the DLRITF and the ULRC, and d) collecting information on the actual implementation of the Nit/ma/a. The NCCLRP was an important precursor to the NGO sectoral co-ordination groups found today in Bangladesh, and had at one time around 60 member NGOs working throughout the country. The institutional framework set up to implement

9 In fact the programme was still in its initial phase when a further one million acres of land were identified as khas. This was land which had been leased out to the Ministry of Forest in 1973 and which the MOL intended recuperating. The Nitimala itself acknowledged that there was more khas land than the amount originally identified.

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the Nitimala was therefore a highly co-ordinated structure which gave NGOs a legally sanctioned position at local, regional and national levels. 10 The structure can be represented diagrammatically in this way:

Diagram 6: Land Reform Institutional Framework

NGO Co-ordinating Council for Land Reform

LAND REFORM CELL

Land Ministry

Other Governmental Ministries

1
NGO Representative District Land Reforms Implementation Task Force

NGO Representative

Upazila Land Reforms Committee

In many ways, the diagram depicts the organisational brokerage network alluded to in the previous chapter. Relying on their contacts with key actors of central organisations, NGOs hoped to reconstruct the relations of their clients to these same organisations. The objective and hope was that the distribution process would be less controlled by local and national vested elites and that as a consequence, the stated intention of the Nitimala to favour the real landless poor, could be realised.

As far as I am aware, a report carried out by Rahman et al (1991) is the only comprehensive evaluation of the involvement of NGOs in the land reform programme. 11 While the report acknowledges and praises the pro-poor policy content of the Nitimala, it is more critical of the actual outcomes. It was found that just under 40% of available khas land had been distributed in two and a half years, a figure admitted by the LRC itself (Rahman et al 1991: 26). Although this figure is low, it is nevertheless slightly inflated for, as the authors rightly point out, it reflects only

10 This framework was set up in a remarkably short time. President Ershad officially announced the land reform programme on 2 March 1987 (see below) and in response to this, NGOs set up the NCCLRP on 31 March. The LRC was officially opened the following month and the Nitimala was published on 1 July. 11 The NCCLRP also produced a brief report in 1990. This document however describes rather than analyses the various activities undertaken by the NCCLRP.

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the total amount of khas land for which a decision to allocate had been taken, and not the actual amount of land distributed. The authors go on in the report to identify in detail numerous areas and points where the policy intention of the Nitimala was never fully realised. That level of detail is not useful for my discussion and so I will quote from another text written by a bureaucrat who had been involved in the programme. His overall observation captures and reflects succinctly the more detailed evaluation of Rahman eta!.

The experience of the 1987 Land Reform Campaign (in which the author was directly involved) suggests that the initial identification of public land was a difficult and cumbersome exercise. Land registers were found to have not been updated for years, maps were not always available, and where available most were outdated. During the revision of settlement thousands of hectares of government lands were recorded in the name of unauthorised occupiers on the basis of occupation and fake documents of transaction. Sometimes several changes had occurred in ownership, the law of inheritance encouraged subdivisions leading to fragmentation of holdings, and the physical aspect of riparian areas had changed due to erosion and accretion. Manipulation and distortion of existing documents, lack of training and personal incapacity of the officials and lack of technical support made updating of records difficult. Even after successful identification of public land the intervention of the civil courts restrained the officials from continuing the process of settlement. In this land-poor country, the unutilised public land is soon grabbed by the influential people, and the local authorities either overlook their illegal possession and or help them to consolidate their rights in such land. (Momen 1996: 104) The diagnosis is all too familiar and reflects a general point which this thesis has already reported on a number of occasions, i.e. that the most powerful in society use their positions to retain advantage over other weaker actors. There were however cases where khas land was actually and effectively distributed to the poor. It is significant in this context that studies carried out by NGOs (Gani 1991), bureaucrats (Momen 1996) and the NCCLRP with the Ministry of Land (Rahman et al 1991) all acknowledge that there was an observable degree of success where NGOs were actively committed to the programme locally.

Shammo was among the first members of the NCCLRP and although no extra land from Boro Bagher Beel was distributed in the three years the LRC was operating, Kayesh considers the whole LRC initiative a very positive one. At the time the LRC was established, the struggle around Boro Bagher Beel was intensifying. Shammo members, it may be recalled, were then fighting to retain control over the khas land they had legally acquired, protect itself physically against the violent tactics the jotedar groups had begun to adopt and fight the numerous court cases both members and staff were embroiled in. 12 The formal links established between the NCCLRP and the MOL offered Shammo an opportunity to protect themselves and counteract some of these pressures. In short, the programme offered Shammo space in which to develop new mobilising strategies. As Kayesh explained:

12 See especially chapter five, section 4.2 204

When the Nitimala came out, we began to work differently. The fight over Boro Bagher Beel had always been between us and the jotedars, but with the Nitimala it was a fight between the Government and the jotedars. If we were contesting land, we would do so by saying that it legally belonged to the Government, not to the jotedars. Everyone knew that if the land was legally declared khas, it would then have to be distributed and Shammo was in a perfect position to influence who finally received that land since we were members of both local and district distribution committees and we had the support of the Land Ministry. In fact, as soon as the Nitimala was published, the jotedars established their own NGOs hoping that they could be members of the local distribution committees, just like Shammo. Interestingly, the criteria Kayesh uses to judge the Nitimala initiative differ significantly from the criteria used in the formal evaluations referred to above. For him, the fact that the land reform programme gave Shammo access to particular positions and relationships was important for the organisation's overall long-term security. Through the Nitimala, Shammo was officially included in the principal decision-making authority for khas-distribution. This inclusion, as Kayesh's statement shows, clearly conferred strategic advantage to Shammo. In terms of the argument being made in this chapter, the position and relationships Kayesh alludes to above represent a type of policy community, and membership of this community gives Shammo a structural advantage over the jotedar groups who are excluded from the same community. As a result, Kayesh and Shammo are able to have greater influence on local decisions concerning the allocation of khas resources.

4.1

The Policy Community

In this section, I intend using the notion of policy community to explore various dimensions of the land reform experience and the role of NGOs therein. As outlined in Table 3, the main characteristics of a policy community are: limited membership, frequent interaction and consensus seeking, an exchange and bargaining relationship between members and a belief that interactions will produce positive sum outcomes.

Like other institutional forms in Bangladesh, the key to understanding the land reform experience lies at least initially in identifying the 'personalities behind the institution'. The most prominent figures behind the land reform experience were Mokammel Huque, the then Land Secretary, and Saidur Rahman who was working for a major NGO at that time. Mokammel came to the MOL after having served as a District Commissioner, the Director General of the IRDB and the Director of the Commonwealth Secretariat. He was known as a very dynamic and progressive man and in the late 1980s was one of the top bureaucrats in the country. Not only did he enjoy considerable support from bureaucrats and politicians, he was also personally well liked by President Ershad himself. Saidur and Mokammel had been friends for years and had worked together previously on different relief programmes.

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When Mokammel was appointed to the MOL in 1986, Saidur approached him with the case of two particular NGOs whose members were involved in struggles over khas land and who were both encountering difficulties with local organised jotedar groups. While discussing what could be done to assist these NG0s, Saidur and Mokammel began to look at the idea of devising a national level programme in which NGOs might assume a leading role. Although Mokammel had not long arrived at the MOL, he had already made up his mind that khas-distribution was an issue he could work on at the Ministry, and that NGOs were a group he could work with. He explained it to me in this way.

President Ershad had published the Land Reform Ordinance 13 before I arrived but it was far too complicated. It would have been impossible to tackle many of the questions raised in the Ordinance like sharecroppers' rights and farmers' minimum wages. What I was looking for was a practical and realistic programme and that is why I began to think about khas-distribution. I knew that I could convince the President of the programme, but I also knew that I needed help to really make the programme work. In the hands of the local level administration, the programme would fail simply because groups with vested land interests would take over the whole process. I had worked with NGOs before and I knew what NGOs were capable of doing. I also knew they were interested in khas issues and so I was already looking for a way to bring them together even before Saidur came to see me. The relationship between the MOL and the NGO community was effectively constructed around the friendship of Saidur and Mokammel. While they had enough trust in each other to agree on a loosely defined form of co-operation, they both had to convince their respective groups that the co-operation was worth investing in. That was no easy task for the polltical mood in Bangladesh at that time was particularly volatile. On the one hand, NGOs were wary of working too closely with what was a military autocracy and on the other, they were sceptical of Mokammel's ability to put into practice the ideas and proposals he was asking NGOs to think about.

In order to bring government officials and NGOs together, a number of exploratory meetings were arranged by Mokammel and Saidur. Although the only official record of these meetings consists of a few notes recording the decisions of the more 'formal' meetings, discussions I have had with key actors confirm that the 'real work' was done in numerous 'informal' meetings which often carried on well into the night. Not only were Saidur and Mokammel directly involved in these meetings, but they also continued to meet informally to evaluate and devise ways of further developing the institutional relationships between their respective groups. Even if the details of all these meetings are lost, it is clear that the whole process was critical for building up mutual understanding and reciprocal trust.

13 Bangladesh Land Reforms Ordinance of 1984.

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A defining moment in bringing the two groups together occurred on 2 March 1987 when a gathering of prominent figures from the political, bureaucratic, academic and development communities was organised in which the government made an initial statement of intent regarding the khas-distribution programme. Mokammel had master-minded the whole meeting. By then, he had managed to convince Ershad that a realistic khas programme was a good idea and that NGOs were the best groups to implement it. Ershad addressed the 2 March meeting and informed those present that he wanted to distribute 2 acres of khas land to landless families and give them 3,000 taka each to buy farming inputs and equipment. Crucially, at one point in his speech he said

There are so many foreign organisations here, there are so many aid agencies. I told all of them I am giving lands, I can also give them plough, bullocks and some other implements with the means I have [sic]. I therefore request all the above organisations would you please come forward to help us in this regard. (Taken from the text of the speech of President Ershad) Those representing the NGO and donor communities at the meeting took the fact that Ershad had extended this invitation to them in front of the country's top political and bureaucratic leaders as a sign of a possible commitment. The invitation and the whole meeting also convinced NGOs that Mokammel was indeed capable of mobilising the bureaucratic and political machinery in a way which would facilitate GO-NGO collaboration. Discussions between NGOs and MOL representatives subsequently intensified and a joint project was formulated and submitted to a donor agency. In supporting the request for funds for the project, the following recommendation was made:

It is essential that the NGOs take up this opportunity immediately. A certain amount of momentum has been generated by public statements from the President and the present top level staff of the Land Ministry are doing everything possible to involve NGOs in the implementation of the law. It has been recognised NGOs are in a unique position, due to their relation of trust with the landless, to assist genuine landless groups to gain access to khas land and it is very important we do not waste this chance (Source not referenced to safeguard anonymity, emphasis added) NGOs were not the only ones who realised there were benefits to be gained from participating in the khas-distribution programme. In fact, one of the characteristics of a policy community is that members believe their co-operation will produce positive sum outcomes. Hence Ershad received international support for the khas-distribution programme and this helped him address,

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albeit temporarily, the question of his regime's legitimacy. 14 Mokammel himself had much to gain from the programme for if it turned out to be successful, his already strong position within the bureaucracy would have been further cemented, and his overall reputation enhanced.

The argument that membership entailed advantage and benefits is also supported if we look at the fortunes and reactions of those who were excluded from the same community. Since there was potentially so much at stake, a real struggle took place concerning membership of the khas related policy community. Immediately after the meeting of 2 June for example, opposition parties and other political groups issued a critical statement accusing Ershad and NGOs of conspiring to create an 'anti-people' and 'pro-imperialist' govemment. 15 Opposition parties realised that the khas programme gave Ershad time and an opportunity to try and win over the hearts of people, and frustrate their own attempts to have him ousted. Meanwhile peasantbased organisations, already sliding into anonymity, 16 were aware that the Nitimala had placed NGOs in a position that they considered theirs by right. The level of antagonism between these excluded groups and NGOs intensified throughout the late 1980s.17

The response of those within the policy community was to justify their position through a process of consensus building. The most important consensus building exercise was the many meetings, seminars and training sessions which were organised by the LRC in different parts of the country. While these served to communicate the main points of the Nitimala, they also helped to legitimise the role especially of NGOs in the programme (Rahman et al 1991). The meetings were normally organised for high-profile leaders from the bureaucratic and political world and would always be attended by the senior members of the MOL and the NCCLRP. The basic message was clear: the President himself had approved the Nitimala and supported the work of the LRC. The hidden message was also clear: all government officials were expected to extend their full co-operation.

As stated earlier, President Ershad was crucially dependent on international donors in his quest to secure legitimacy for his regime. From this perspective, the Nitimala was very important. For example, in April of 1987, a leading British donor asked a member of parliament to write to the then Prime Minister, Mrs Thatcher, informing her of President Ershad's Nitimala and requesting her to write to Ershad voicing her support. Mrs Thatcher did answer the letter and promised to raise the issue with Ershad. The same donor also approached the European Parliament with a similar request.
15

14

Information retrieved from the Bangladesh Observer of 5 July 1987. See chapter two, section 3.2.

16

I have already alluded in this thesis to the fact that NGOs were accused by opposition parties of not working with the people's movement which led to the ousting of President Ershad (see chapter two, section 5). Peasant-based organisations were also persistently critical of NG0s. In 1989 for example, the Dhaka Courier magazine published a number of articles debating the role of NGOs in Bangladesh. Almost all the contributions made by leaders of left-wing or peasant-based organisations tried to portray NGOs as defenders of the status quo rather than catalysts of change. In a sense, they were trying to put themselves forward as real revolutionary agents working to alter the conditions to which poor people were subjected (Dhaka Courier 1989).

17

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The importance of consensus building in legitimising the inclusion and exclusion of particular actors was underlined in a meeting held on 23 May in Dhaka. At the meeting, representatives of left-wing peasant groups repeated the accusation that NGOs had stolen a position which traditionally belonged to them. However this time, a leading national NGO representative and a member of the NCCLRP, publicly sided with those making the accusation and argued that they should have a more central role in the khas-distribution programme. Fellow NCCLRP members and those representing the MOL at the meeting immediately perceived the statement as an attack on the unity, authority and legitimacy of the policy community. A donor representative present at the meeting explained it in this way:

The problem was not what Shapan said but where and how he said it. At the NCCLRP we had already talked about bringing in some of the better and more committed peasant-based organisations but we realised Mokammel neither trusted nor liked them and so we abandoned the idea. All those working with the LRC did not share the same interests and expectations and so compromises like this were inevitable in order to take advantage of the opportunity that had been opened. Many people probably agreed with Shapan in theory, but in practice his statement was a massive mistake. The peasant-based organisations and left-wing parties spent the whole meeting quoting what he had said and you could see Mokammel and many NGO leaders were absolutely furious. We risked losing everything that day. Immediately after the meeting, Saidur talked to Mokammel and in the next meeting of the NCCLRP, Shapan was expelled from the organisation. Fortunately not much fuss was made of the incident. The statement is clear enough. Consensus and unity were perceived as being functional to the task of securing and maintaining membership within the policy community. It was not that the members of the community necessarily shared the same values and objectives (some of them undoubtedly did), but that they depended on each other to preserve their positional and strategic advantage. Equally, some members of the community may have shared values with non-members (and some NGOs were indeed close to peasant-based organisations) but that did not necessarily give non-members license to join the community. In other words, policy communities are not necessarily formed around ideologies, but around the possibility of securing strategic advantage. To retain their advantage, members of the policy community knew that they had to be able to insulate themselves from non-members, irrespective of their ideological orientations.

The importance of many of the points alluded to above is further reinforced when we look at how and why the programme established around the LRC eventually came to an end. The first and most important reason why the LRC initiative broke up was that Mokammel was transferred from the MOL. This effectively orphaned the LRC and the level of interaction between NGOs and the Ministry was thereafter drastically reduced. Around the same time, Saidur also disappeared from the scene to take on another appointment. Although the MOL and the NCCLRP had been working together intensely and meeting almost daily, there was never any legal document sanctioning the relationship (Rahman et al 1991). In this sense, the policy community was an initiative which was sustained by personal relationships, contacts and 209

understandings. In fact, Mokammel's successors did not have the same relationship and understanding with NGO members and there was no legal commitment binding them to work with NG0s. Hence, the LRC was simply ignored and then abandoned. The conclusion of this first point is therefore that policy communities in Bangladesh tend to emerge where personal contacts between relevant actors exist and are nurtured.

Secondly, and prior to the change in personnel, NGOs were already beginning to realise that their privileged position within the policy community was being gradually undermined and it became more difficult for them to see what advantages were to be gained by participating in the LRC. The main cause of this change was that outside political and bureaucratic interests were gaining strategic strength and beginning to make their presence felt once again in the MOL. The LRC was incapable therefore of insulating itself and its agenda from their influence. The main point of entry for outside interests was a programme inaugurated by the MOL called Operation Thikana.18

With Operation Thikana, Mokammel remodelled a development initiative which dated back to the early 1970s when a pilot project was set up in the southern coastal belt of the country to house 1,400 landless families in seven selected locations. These locations were then known as 'cluster villages'. The idea behind the programme was to allocate one hectare of land to different landless families and provide them with basic agricultural inputs and credit. Although the seven villages were constructed and the land allocated, the programme failed to achieve its objectives mainly because a) the supply of both inputs and credit was irregular and inadequate, and b) the families began to sell, mortgage and lease out their allocated land without any authorisation (MOL 1985).

The revamped Operation Thikana programme19 proposed to build in every upazila one cluster village which could accommodate about 20 landless families. Provisions were also made for the same families to receive land to farm. Like the khas-distribution programme, the responsibility for identifying landless families and allocating houses to them lay with the District and Upazila committees in which NGOs were official members (see diagram 6). Many NGOs however were suspicious of the 'Operation Thikana' initiative from the very beginning. First of all, the idea for Operation Thikana did not come from NGOs or the LRC, but from other political and bureaucratic actors who had managed to convince Mokammel that the programme was effective and that the 'President would like it'. Secondly, NGOs were not really consulted on how the programme could be devised and implemented. Thirdly, the document concerning 'Operation Thikana' published by the MOL makes very few references to NG05. In short, the

18

Thikana in Bengali means address.

President Ershad inaugurated the first Thikana village in February of 1988 and the MOL published the document expounding the programme in May of the same year.

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NGO community were not considered the main actors in the policy community which had been developed to deal with this particular policy issue.

NGOs soon realised that their worst fears were well founded. The cluster village programme became so popular that it quickly superseded the khas-distribution programme as the centrepiece of the govemment's land reform drive. Certain donors were more than willing to generously fund Operation Thikana2 and Ershad saw it as an even more effective way of popularising and legitimising his regime. As the khas-distribution programme received less and less attention, NGOs found themselves occupying more marginal rather than key policy positions. Meanwhile, different political and bureaucratic interest groups, keen to take advantage of the donors' generosity and Ershad's enthusiasm for the programme, began to reassert their authority within the MOL. Suddenly, as the NGO community had predicted and feared, numerous fake NGOs began to apply for contracts to build cluster villages. Most of these fake NGOs were patronised by influential political and bureaucratic leaders. By the time Ershad was ousted from power in 1990, the khas-distribution programme had been replaced by Operation Thikana, and the NGO members of the LRC by these fake NG0s.

When Khaleda Zia assumed power in 1991, NGOs tried to re-establish contacts with politicians and bureaucrats to work again on khas issues. The new Government however followed its predecessor's strategy and decided to concentrate on the cluster village initiative. They rebaptised the programme "Adarshagram" (literally, 'Ideal Village') and devised a list of 55 NGOs selected to help the Government with the programme. According to one source, those at the NCCLRP could only recognise three or four of these selected NG05. The others were therefore all fake NGOs set up to take advantage of the money made available for the programme. A new and lucrative kind of policy community had by now been firmly established and NGOs were not on the membership list.

4.2 Creating New Policy Communities

Although Kayesh and others from Shammo were in prison while the LRC was taking shape, the experience and struggle of Shammo, as I explained in chapter five, was used to give salience to NGO efforts in khas-redistribution work. Those working on land issues knew of and often referred to Shammo's poth. This meant that when Kayesh got out of jail in 1991, Shammo already had an important public profile and there were people in positions of power who were

20 Although I have no records of the funding involved in the Operation Thikana initiative, I have been informed that money was available and in vast amounts. The donors who were funding Operation Thikana were far bigger players than the donors funding the LRC initiative. According to one source, donors were actually contacting NGOs and offering them funds for Thikana projects. This contrasts sharply with the khas-distribution programme which attracted far less funds and had to rely on local NGO contributions.

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sympathetic to Shammo's plight and cause. Kayesh followed up on these contacts and began to build strategies around and through them. In a relatively quick time and despite the fact that a) the LRC no longer existed, 21 and b) the relationship between the new BNP government and NGOs was generally antagonistic, 22 Kayesh managed to have two major decisions made in favour of Shammo. In 1994, a further 320 acres of khas land from Boro Bagher Beel were settled permanently in favour of Shammo's samity members, and in 1996, a Presidential Order was issued stating that the Revisional Survey (RS) of Boro Bagher Beel had to be repeated. To fully understand the importance of this second point, it is necessary to explain briefly the history of the RS record.

Khas land is identified and distributed through land surveys. The most important of these surveys took place around 1910 and is known either as the Cadestral Survey (CS) or the District Survey (DS). The CS is generally considered the most reliable survey and is still used today as the basic reference point for land ownership disputes. When the CS was carried out, zamindars were entitled to register khas property in their own names. According to the official CS record, there was 973 acres of khas land in what is now known as Boro Bagher Beel. With the East Bengal Land Acquisition and Tenancy Act of 1950, all khas property was to the East Pakistan Government and recorded in khatian number one. 23 Shortly after the 1950 Act, a new survey was ordered which is known as the States for Acquisition (SA) record. According to the official SA record, the amount of khas land in Boro Bagher Beel was 720 acres. The discrepancy between the CS and the SA records is explained by the fact that landowners were tampering with records and registering khas, this time illegally, in their own names. Towards the end of the 1970s, the Government commissioned a third survey known as the Revisional Survey (RS). All the results of the RS were made public in 1984 except for a very few places where the process had either been disrupted by fighting or was being contested in court. The area of Boro Bagher Beel was one of the places where the RS results were not made public. There the Land Record and Survey Administration had to suspend the whole process because different jotedar groups were fighting amongst themselves. 24 Since the results of the RS were not published, the basic reference point for Boro Bagher Beel remained that of the SA record. So when Shammo began to apply for the lease of khas land, there was in theory 720 acres available. As I have already stated elsewhere, in 1986 Shammo secured permanent lease on 180 acres of this available land.

21 In February 1991, the Association for Land Reform and Development was formed. This was an independent network organisation which grew out of the experience of the LRC and NCCLRP. 22 See chapter two, section 5. 23 A Khatian is a book or record of charts.
24

See chapter six, section 4.

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When Kayesh was released from prison in 1991, one of the first activities he undertook was to secure the possession documents for the land that had been given in 1986. While going through the records that were available (and here his contacts in Dhaka were already proving to be useful), he discovered that the amount of land from Boro Bagher Beel identified by the RS as khas was only 133 acres. Since these results had still not been made public (and therefore not officially sanctioned), he immediately began to lobby to have the whole RS survey cancelled. First of all, he mobilised the samity members themselves. Different meetings and processions were organised and over 250 of the samity leaders each sent a telegram to the Prime Minister requesting her to order a second RS survey for Boro Bagher Beel. Secondly, Kayesh sought support from his own contacts in Dhaka. In particular, he worked with two men who were among the leading bureaucrats in the country at that time. Both of these men had been involved as junior staff in the whole LRC initiative. According to Kayesh, it was the influence and support of these two men that enabled him to secure the 320 acres of khas land in 1994 and the Presidential Order in 1996.

The 1996 Presidential Order is a remarkable example of political lobbying and networking. The Order nullified the original RS record and authorised a new Diara Survey25 for Boro Bagher Beel. As far as I am aware, Boro Bagher Beel is the only place in Bangladesh to have had a second and revised RS survey. When I asked Kayesh how he managed to secure the Order, he told me:

We all knew that the RS record was false and we showed the Government how the amount of khas had decreased from 973 acres in the CS record to 133 in the RS one. Someone was stealing 840 acres of land. But simply explaining this was not enough. To get things changed we had to mobilise our samity members and use our contacts with people in the right place. You need both the contacts and the mobilising power if you want to provoke change in Bangladesh. Everyone knows Shammo numbers and unity, but we need to keep building contacts. That is why I spend so much time in Dhaka. If you have no contacts, you will be isolated. The contacts Kayesh refers to represent a new type of policy community. This new policy community differs slightly from the one identified earlier in that its focus lies not on a particular issue (for example khas), but on the organisation of Shammo itself. To avoid being isolated, Kayesh nurtures relationships with key actors he can rely on and who can help Shammo. He spends considerable time as he puts it 'keeping people on his side and finding new contacts' in order to make Shammo's environment more predictable, secure and reliable. It is these kinds of linkages and contacts, as I argued in the previous chapter, which legitimises Kayesh's position as a gatekeeper. In the remainder of this chapter, I will look at how the power and leverage Kayesh acquires via his contacts are deployed in the local policy context.

25 Revisional Surveys are organised District wise, while Diara Surveys are carried out in a particular area of a Thana or Mouza (smallest revenue unit).

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5. DISTRIBUTING RESOURCES TO STAY IN THE GAME

Since his release from prison, Kayesh has tried to take advantage of the opportunities opened up by the Nitimala. Thus, he makes a point of being always present when the District committee dealing with khas-distribution meets and has senior Shammo staff present at all the respective Thana committee meetings. If then the khas-distribution process is being threatened or hindered in any illegal way, Kayesh will turn to his contacts (most of whom have personal authority or know `friends' with personal authority over District and Thane levels) for help. In other words, he appeals to key actors of authority to mobilise and put pressure in a way which facilitates Shammo's work locally. In the mind of Kayesh, these key actors are either Shammo's friends or `friends of friends' (see chapter three) and as a consequence he tries to build a community (policy and moral) around them.

The presence of these 'friends of friends' helps Kayesh legitimately establish greater control over the local khas-distribution process. Although there is still resistance from jotedars around Boro Bagher Beel, they are now severely weakened, disorganised and with no reliable support in Dhaka. Local bureaucratic and political figures are also aware of Kayesh's contacts in Dhaka and although they may resent the power he has, they are wise not to openly confront him, at least on matters regarding khas-distribution. An important part of Kayesh's local profile is that he can, and has in the past managed to, have local administrative staff transferred to other parts of the country because they were 'anti-Shammo'.26

The fact that Shammo has leverage locally enables it to influence the policy process in a very direct and immediate way. The organisation has for example already identified new areas of khas in its working area and applied for the necessary leases. So from 1996 to 1998, over 550 acres of 'new' khas resources were given in annual lease to samity members in different Manes. From 1998, applications for approximately 2,000 acres of khas land have been prepared and submitted, to add to the approximately 1,700 acres that have already been given permanently to different samity members since the organisation started. There is therefore good reasonn to believe that the presence of Shammo ensures that more khas resources are being directed to the poor, and less are being taken illegally by jotedar groups. This goes some way to answering the first main question raised earlier in the chapter about whether or not NGO policy

It is always difficult to gauge how true these statements are. Locally, both rivals and sympathisers of Shammo have commented to me that Kayesh has in the past used contacts in Dhaka to have high ranking local administration staff transferred. Even if these opinions turn out to be untrue, the fact that Kayesh appears to have such power is regarded as important. I have only indicated here the recent 'successes' of Shammo's khas-land work. At present, Shammo is investigating the status of vast amounts of land in its own working area, and it also lobbies at the District level on behalf of other local NGOs who have identified khas resources in their respective working areas.
27

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involvement benefits the poor. It does not however answer the second question regarding whether NGO policy involvement reduces the influence of patron-client relations and patterns in policy allocation. In order to address this question, we need to look at micro studies of how resources allocated to the poor are subsequently allocated among the poor.

It was by observing how poor people invest in their relationships with Kayesh that I became interested in the question of how resources are allocated among the poor. Not everyone who is poor has the same type of relationship with Kayesh and not all of those who are members of Shammo's samities enjoy the same quality of relationship with Kayesh. This is not of course a new observation. Bailey (1970) for example argued that in all organisational forms, the relationship between leaders and adherents is complex and it is possible to identify and observe different degrees of attachment. He himself distinguished between 'core' and 'followers': the former enjoying a more permanent, closer and moral relationship with the leader and the latter a more contractual type of relationship. The question I was interested in pursuing was whether or not different qualities of relationships translated into different policy benefits and advantages. While carrying out fieldwork, I observed three main types of relationships involving Kayesh and poor people seeking access to different resources: a) core members, b) followers and new recruits, and c) the excluded.28

5.1 Core Members: the Case of Mahfuz

Mahfuz immigrated to Jaybash in the late 1960s after losing his home as a result of river erosion. With no roots in Jaybash, he was forced initially to beg for work on the land of local jotedars during the day and sleep at night with his family in the open fields or under the cover of trees. His fortunes however changed when Shammo started. He became a member of the very first samity and has since then endured physical torture, numerous court cases and spells in jail on account of his allegiance to Shammo. Today Mahfuz is economically self-sufficient, a recognised leader of the landless and an active recruiter for Shammo. Mahfuz's history is often cited when Shammo wants to give an example of how successful and relevant its work is.

The relationship between Mahfuz and Kayesh is a very complex one and is revealed in the following incident that occurred while I was in Jaybash. Mahfuz and two other samity members had bought a shallow tubewell (STVV) with a 30,000 taka loan from Shammo. To recover their costs and make a profit, they irrigated the fields of other samity members with the STVV and were given in exchange one quarter of any crop produced on the land. In the year I carried out fieldwork, it had rained extensively and some samity members complained that one quarter of

I deliberately omit from this analysis the relationships nurtured with Kayesh by non-poor actors such as staff, other NGO leaders, family and so on.

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the crop was an excessive amount to ask since there had been no real need for the STW. Mahfuz and his two friends naturally did not like this and refused to accept anything less than the agreed one quarter. Through different meetings, the samity members tried to resolve the dispute themselves. When that failed, they asked Shammo staff to intervene and act as arbitrators. A meeting was arranged at Shammo's office and all the members of the Executive Committee were asked to attend. Since the deputy executive director of Shammo is responsible for the everyday running of Shammo's local activities when Kayesh is in Dhaka, he presided over the meeting.

The meeting went on for a whole morning and in the end, the deputy executive director agreed with those who had complained that Mahfuz's demands were excessive. He therefore advised Mahfuz to accept a lesser percentage of the crop. This decision however enraged Mahfuz. He began shouting at those who had made the decision and slowly this shouting turned into an angry debate between Mahfuz and the deputy executive director. As the argument became more vociferous and the language more colourful, crowds of spectators began to gather. Mahfuz eventually stormed away from the meeting making it very clear what he thought of the decision. For a few days, the argument was the main topic among people in the village and staff at Shammo.

When Kayesh returned to Jaybash from Dhaka, I was curious to see how he would deal with the deadlock. On hearing that Kayesh had returned, Mahfuz came to the office for the first time since the argument and went directly to Kayesh's office. Over a period of a few days, the men met on a number of occasions until eventually the whole matter was resolved. Since there had been no meetings and no public explanation of what kind of agreement had been reached, I went to Kayesh and asked him about the incident. He told me that Mahfuz would receive one quarter of the crop as initially agreed and that those who had complained about Mahfuz would receive compensation which Kayesh would take from his own personal earnings. The solution was a good one and reflected the socio-political astuteness of Kayesh in dealing with people. I suspected however that Mahfuz had received some sort of preferential treatment and so I tried to push Kayesh to explain in more detail his decision.

People don't realise that when I am in the village, Mahfuz often comes to my house early before the first namaj or sometimes very late at night. We spend a lot of time talking about things related to Shammo and its members. Mahfuz's opinion is an important one for he has the struggle for khas in his blood and is respected by the samity members for that. If we have to mobilise different samities, Mahfuz is worth a hundred of my staff. I tried to get him to accept the deputy executive director's decision for it was a fair decision. But Mahfuz also claims that he is not cheating anyone by demanding the agreed quarter of the crop. He is entitled to that. So I had to find a solution in order to save our unity. I knew that Kayesh does not treat all the samity members in the same way and so I asked him if Mahfuz's 'value' means that he receives some sort of special treatment. He answered:

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I help Mahfuz sometimes with small loans for his work. I always use my own money and I don't ask for any interest. Of course I am more flexible with Mahfuz even if he is by no means the poorest of the samity members. Remember Mahfuz has been in jail more than any of us and I know how much unpaid work and time he gives to Shammo. He is very loyal. Mahfuz is not the only one like that. There are a number of samity members who have a particular influence over the other members, or are of particular strategic value to Shammo. It is important to keep these landless leaders since they are strategically important for Shammo.

5.2 Followers and New Recruits: the Case of Mushtaque

Mushtaque has been with Shammo for over 10 years. He is by now resigned to the fact that he will never receive khas land simply because there is none left to redistribute in his area. Nevertheless Mushtaque remains fiercely loyal to Shammo. He attends the samity meetings every week, saves regularly and rarely misses any of the bigger processions or meetings organised by Shammo. There are many samity members like Mushtaque who will never receive khas land. Retaining their loyalty remains a problem for NGOs like Shammo who have far fewer development goods and services to offer than other bigger NG0s.

Kayesh acknowledges that Shammo cannot always satisfy all the immediate needs of its members and insists that no other NGO can or ever will be able to do so. Kayesh approaches the problem in these terms:

Shammo cannot survive without its members or without the unity that ties them all together. I can't always help everyone, but I have to be careful not to ignore the same people all the time. It is all about knowing how to play the right card at the right time. Kayesh deploys three main strategies with the vast majority of samity members: a) he promises new or potential resources, b) he rations the distribution of existing resources and c) he uses his inner circle of core members to explain and legitimise his decisions.

I asked Mushtaque to tell me what actual help he received from Shammo and he replied that he had been given a few loans and that his wife had also received money to do some homestead farming. Given that the amount of money involved was not much and irregular, I suggested he would be better off joining a bigger NGO that could offer more money on a regular basis. In his reply, he pointed out that there was no need to go to other NGOs since Shammo members were going to present themselves as candidates at the forthcoming local elections (see following chapter). He was confident, as were most other samity members I met, that victory in these elections would guarantee access to new resources and opportunities for the poor. Furthermore, he was equally convinced that he would be privileged above other samity members who had already received khas land, simply because Kayesh had on a number of

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occasions promised as much. In effect, many of the activities around which Shammo members are mobilised (local elections is a very pertinent example) are presented by Kayesh and his staff as opportunities to access new resources. This prospect galvanises action and nurtures both unity and loyalty, and is an important part of the institutional life of NGOs like Shammo. Kayesh however is not offering his own resources as such, but what Boissevain (1974: 159) has called credit, i.e. promises or potential resources. His ability to deal in promises (which may or may not translate into actual resources) is allowed only because of who Kayesh is or is perceived to be. An unreliable patron with weak contacts would not be given the same license to deal in expectations.

Kayesh does not however only deal in potential resources because Shammo has a limited amount of actual resources and services to distribute such as loans, schools, employment and health care. These have to be distributed strategically so that no individual, group or village feels completely ignored. Kayesh uses a number of techniques to ration the use of his actual resources, especially credit. Thus, in applying for a loan, an individual member normally has first to have the approval of his or her samity and secondly to submit a written application to the fieldworker who is responsible for making sure it is approved by different superiors before reaching the final authoritative body. 29 At certain pre-established dates (usually monthly), all the applications are considered together. Here Kayesh acts in such a way as to spread resources around. He therefore not only considers the merit of the actual application, but he also keeps in mind other strategic considerations such as the location of the village and samity the applicant comes from and so on. When a decision has been made, it is transmitted through the same channels used for the application. This procedure is not a cumbersome one, but it does in a way distance the applicant from Kayesh and gives Kayesh time to deliberate on how best to distribute. Unlike 'core members' such as Mahfuz, 'followers' like Mushtaque have less immediate and flexible access to Kayesh. Appointments, applications, office procedures and timetables all buy Kayesh some time and give him room to manoeuvre.

Finally, Kayesh manages the distribution of both his actual and potential resources through his core members. The time Mushtaque submitted a written application for a loan, he was asked to wait a few more months. After the fieldworker had told him of this decision, Mushtaque went to see Kayesh privately. He explained that no-one in his samity had received a loan for over a year despite the fact that they had all saved regularly. Kayesh told him to write a new application and he would see what could be done 'next time'. Mushtaque left disappointed for he knew that he would not get the loan. That night Mushtaque's samity had their weekly meeting. I had spoken to some members of the samity the morning of the meeting and they expressed their anger at the fieldworker because they felt he had not pushed their case sufficiently. I decided to attend their weekly meeting to see how they would confront the fieldworker. However when I arrived I

29 In this case, Kayesh or the deputy executive director.

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found that it was Mahfuz and not the fieldworker who was actually leading the meeting. He listened patiently and talked to the members, sympathised with Mushtaque and promised to try and get Kayesh to reconsider his decision. I walked home with Mahfuz that night and asked him if Kayesh had sent him to the meeting. He denied this but did admit that he and other senior samity members often went to meetings if sensitive, dangerous or acrimonious issues were to be discussed.

Tonight I went because I knew that all the members of Mushtaque's group were annoyed. They deserved to be given a loan. I will try and convince Kayesh that next month he should give a loan to Mushtaque and I am sure he will do so. Tonight all I had to do was listen and talk to the members. That way there will be no bad feelings and we can all remain united.

5.3 Excluded: the Case of Roton

When I was carrying out my fieldwork, Golam Member from the village of Chatragramw was considered the most active opponent of Shammo. Since I was staying at Shammo's office, Golam was convinced that I was one of them (tader lok) and consequently it took me months to get him to agree to a meeting. The day I arrived at Chatragram, Golam took me to his house and we talked at length about Shammo and their work. Golam made no attempt to disguise his feelings for the organisation. Not only did he brand them thieves and claim that they had stolen land which was legally his, but he was also eager to point out that Kayesh only distributed land to 'his own people' and was not really interested in the real poor. A crowd had gathered to listen to our conversation and at this point, Golam called Roton before us. Roton was a landless farmer who was living in a small hut with his family in a comer of Golam's uthan (household courtyard). After describing at length Roton's precarious economic position, Golam then argued that Roton had more right to receive khas land than many other samity members because he actually lived in the mouza (lowest territorial revenue unit) where the Boro Bagher Beel was located?' The only reason he never received land was because he was not one of Shammo's do! (group). All of those present nodded and voiced their agreement. Roton meanwhile remained silent, his head bowed low.

I left that day thinking about what Golam had said. In my diary that night I wrote what had happened and ended the entry in the following way:

There must be thousands of people as poor as Roton in this area and yet they will never receive khas land because they are not samity members. Since Kayesh and
30

See chapter six, diagram 3.

According to the Nitimala, landless families residing in the mouza where the leasable lands are located, have preference over other claimants to the land (Nitimala: 73).

31

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Shammo have the right connections, they can also privilege certain cases and ignore other ones. If I were Roton I would just leave Golam and become a samity member. About two or three days after my visit to Golam's house, I met Roton again purely by chance. I began to talk to him about our meeting. I found out that like many other landless people, Roton had been allocated khas land in the 1970s when the government introduced a redistribution programme. 32 Golam offered to 'help' Roton acquire the relevant legal documents for the land he had been allocated. After a few years however, Golam informed Roton that the land had been mistakenly registered in Golam's name. He reassured Roton that he was still the owner and promised to get the tahsildar (lowest level revenue functionary) to put everything in order. The situation remained unchanged for a few years until the-mid 1980s when the fighting between jotedars and Shammo erupted and intensified. that time, Golam convinced Roton that it was in his interest to leave the land temporarily in Golam's name otherwise Shammo would steal it and give it to its own people. Although Roton never trusted Golam, he had little choice but to agree to the suggestion. He was not the only person in this situation for he told me that Golam had acted in a similar way with other landless labourers and acquired hundreds of acres of khas land.34

While we were talking, Roton pointed to the Beel and tried to show me the exact plot of land that he once owned, then lost and which is now being farmed by a member of Shammo. I then asked him why he did not leave Golam and become a samity member. His answer, predictable in part, underlined the precarious life he led:

It is too late for me to join them now. I would not get khas land because there is little of it left and there are many samity members even in my own village hoping to get land. If I join Shammo, Kayesh would have to look after them before he dealt me. Besides, if I ever publicly go against Golam Member, I know he would throw me and my family out of the house he has given us and I have no other place to go.

5.4 Crafting Entitlements: the Case of Kayesh

The above case studies present three situations where poor people are equally trying to access resources in order to strengthen their livelihood possibilities. While the starting point for all three cases is relatively similar, the trajectories and fortunes of the three differ significantly. The key to

32 This is identical to the story of Selim All recounted in chapter six, section 4. 33 See chapter five, section 4.2. 34 This account was corroborated by Shammo members living in Golam Member's area.

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understanding the different outcomes lies, I would argue, in tracing the relationship of the individuals concerned to Shammo in general and Kayesh in particular.

The point is best expressed and explained if we think of different concentric circles formed around Shammo and/or Kayesh. Core members like Mahfuz enjoy privileged access not only to Shammo's resources, but also Kayesh's personal resources. Ideally, this relationship can be described as moral and permanent (Bailey 1970). 'Followers' such as Mushtaque also enjoy privileged access to Shammo's resources. However since these resources are limited, the degree of privilege of access is observably weaker. For Mushtaque, resources are accessed through a more rationalised and formalised process. Despite this, Shammo still remains the site of primary security for Mushtaque and he remains loyal to the organisation believing he has privileged access to the expectations and promises (credit) Kayesh makes. Finally, Roton is situated in the concentric circle farthest from Kayesh. As the term 'excluded' suggests, he does not normally have nor expects to enjoy access to Shammo's actual or potential resources.35 Although he recognises that Shammo is a powerful actor in terms of providing a system of welfare, he is so poor that the proposition of moving allegiances from Golam Member to Shammo is perceived as too dangerous and risky.

Locally therefore, it is Shammo and Kayesh in particular who play the most important role in deciding how resources 'allocated to' are then 'allocated among' the poor. This is a function of Shammo's general gatekeeping role (chapter six) which enables it to access and influence the general flow of development resources and services. No matter how much more access to resources the poor enjoy as a result of NGO interventions, it is never a direct access. The extended networks, passing through Kayesh to wider policy communities, act as a vehicle for accessing resources.

The network which extends to Dhaka in the form of policy communities or 'friends of friends' structures people's entitlements locally and those closely related to Kayesh enjoy greater security than those who have no or little relationship with him. What is interesting however is that Kayesh's authority to structure entitlements in this way seems to be legitimised by core members, followers and excluded alike. While the acquiescence of core members and followers needs little explanation, the case of Roton appears more complex. For Roton however it is not the slightest bit complicated. He is fully aware that his problem in accessing resources is directly related to the fact that he is lied into' the wrong or weakest do!. His patron does not have the social, political, economic and development connections to compete with Kayesh. Roton's extended network ends with Golam Member, while Shammo's core members and followers have connections that extend significantly further. Roton, Mahfuz and Mushtaque all work

35 My use of the word 'normally' is deliberate for in times of disaster relief work, Shammo is often asked to organise operations throughout the area. In these instances, the criteria for distributing goods and services change significantly.

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through networks. The difference is that both Mahfuz and Mushtaque are clients in a better and more secure system with effective access to important resources and services.

6. CONCLUSION

The focus of this chapter has been on the influence or otherwise of NGOs in policy arenas. Early in the chapter, I stated that the policy process in Bangladesh was traditionally controlled by elites eager to take advantage of their position to manipulate resources to their own strategic advantage. As a result, the poor had little choice but to access resources retrospectively through traditional channels of patronage. In this context, I raised two interrelated questions about whether the presence of NGOs a) makes the policy process more accessible and responsive to the needs of the poor and b) reduces the influence of arbitrary patron values in the eventual allocation of resources.

The fortunes of Mahfuz, Mushtaque and Roton offer an important insight into these questions. It was shown that their ability to access important resources depended significantly on their respective relations to Shammo in general and Kayesh in particular. The allocation of khas resources is therefore not carried out in an impersonal way but managed by agents who function, as I mentioned in the previous chapter, as gatekeepers. NGOs help remodel but not remove clientelistic structures. Indeed and paradoxically, the praxis of trying to directly access resources or influence their distribution, requires the presence of gatekeepers like Kayesh and Shammo for they are the ones with linkages to those who possess the authority to allocate resources. While the chapter has therefore shown that Shammo facilitates a process whereby more resources are transferred into the hands of the poor, the case of Roton clearly indicates that being poor is not in itself a sufficient criterion to receive these resources. It is therefore important and necessary to be a member or client of those strategically positioned within the 'organisational-brokerage' network. Interpersonal relationships continue to structure entitlement patterns.

The ability to manage the local allocation of resources is legitimised through contacts with wider institutional actors. In this chapter, I introduced the notion of policy communities to help explain this process. Policy communities are stable forms of relationships which demand and permit close collaboration between a limited and exclusive number of members. Actors who manage to become members of a policy community effectively gain positional advantage over rival actors. The fact that Shammo today enjoys a strong position in the khas-land policy process is a consequence of it having found a niche within a relevant policy community. These policy communities may be formal and legally sanctioned as was the case of the Land Reform Cell established to oversee the policy of khas-land distribution. More often however, policy

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communities are nurtured and maintained through informal contacts and relationships between friends and 'friends of friends'. Kayesh and Shammo have used both formal and informal contacts to gain policy leverage and advantage over their rivals.

In this chapter, I have prioritised the importance of relationships and networks created and accessed by Shammo in determining policy outcomes. In the chapter to follow, I follow a very similar line of enquiry. The electoral domain is another important social sphere which is traditionally controlled by patrons. I will be looking at how the presence of Shammo and the organisational-brokerage network it accesses, helps members renegotiate their choices and commitments in these electoral fields.

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CHAPTER EIGHT

SHAMMO AND THE ELECTORAL PROCESS

1. INTRODUCTION

1.1 The 'NG - Political Process' Nexus: an Unusual Conundrum

One of the most serious lacunae of the NGO literature is its neglect of the explicitly political dimensions of NGO activities. In fact, Edwards and Hulme have noted that while

donor support for NGOs is predicated as much on their supposed role in democratizing the political process as on their role in the provision of welfare services, rarely in the literature is it made clear exactly how NGOs ...are supposed to contribute to 'democratization' and the formal political process. (Edwards and Hulme 1994: 4) By speaking of a 'supposed role', the authors not only highlight the fact that there is little empirical evidence upon which to analyse the interaction between NGOs and the formal political process, but they also, consciously or otherwise, draw attention to an ambiguity regarding the same question. Put in very simple terms, while NGOs are expected to play a catalytic role in an associational revolution (Salamon 1994) which will, inter alia, undermine political structures dominated by elite interests (Fisher 1993), they are expected to do so in an autonomous, neutral and above all non-political way (Constantino-David 1992).

There are many reasons why NGOs would like or are required to maintain a non-political image (it is often for example a prerequisite for state approval and registration). However, the attempt to distinguish the modus operandi of NGOs from that of the market and the state remains, as I explained in the first part of the thesis, one of the pillars supporting such an image. The political process to which NGOs are committed is therefore a non-party, non-electoral and nonparliamentary one (Kothari 1984), for as Sharma argues

[political] parties 'make use of the masses' for their partisan ends, while social action groups seek to serve the cause of the people, particularly the underprivileged. Parties are viewed generally as power-seekers while social action groups seek to empower the weak and the vulnerable. Parties tend to have an authoritarian organisational structure, while social action groups are democratically organised. (Sharma 1992: 2558) Besides the tautological bias and normative overtone of this statement, it seems to me that Sharma's observation is unhelpful in that it fails to capture recent research showing how NGOs have indeed made a more conscious incursion into formal political processes. First of all, the work of many NGOs seeking to introduce redistributive measures in public policy in Africa is interpreted by a leading analyst as "one of the most significant sources of political tension between existing regimes and the voluntary sector" (Fowler 1991: 63, emphasis added). Secondly, many NGOs throughout the world are involved in struggles to promote more

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pluralistic societies where the rights to association and organisation are guaranteed. For obvious reasons, the NGO literature tends to focus on the difficulties faced by NGOs in legally defining their own organisations vis a vis governments. This endeavour should be seen, as Bratton has correctly noted, primarily as "a political question that impinges on the legitimacy of various types of institutions to exercise power." (Bretton 1989: 570, emphasis added). Finally, there are also cases where NGOs have contributed to the strengthening of political processes either by monitoring elections as in Mexico (Chand 1997), calling for more open political competition as in Indonesia (Eldridge 1997), providing ministers and high-ranking officials to new democracies as in the 1990 transition to democracy in Chile (Loveman 1991), offering an organisational base for civil resistance as in the May 1992 movement against the Thai military government (Gohlert 1992), and working together with politicians in local level political structures as in the Philippines with the 1991 Local Government Code (Clarke 1993).

This third set of NGO 'political' engagements clearly falls outside the parameters normally associated with NG0s, or at least outside the perspective which dominates the NGO literature.' As the dates of publication indicate, the research interest in these forms of NGO engagement is a relatively new phenomenon which has emerged contemporaneously with the wider global interest in discourses centred on notions such as 'civil society' and `democracy'. 2 This chapter hopes to contribute to this emerging and potentially fertile area of research. By looking generally at the NGO community in Bangladesh and more specifically at the experience of Shammo, I hope to show how the NGO and formal political processes are compulsively and inevitably linked and that this interpenetration of processes, while problematic, offers important opportunities and challenges to NGOs in Bangladesh.

1.2 The `NGO-Political Process' Nexus in Bangladesh Embeddedness

In Bangladesh, NGOs have traditionally presented themselves as non-political entities often alluding to the types of explanations outlined in Sharrna's statement above: what ties NGOs

1 Note however that already in 1987, Ernesto Garilao predicted that future roles of NGOs would be of a more political nature. He argued that NGOs would grow in three main areas: a) greater overt and covert advocacy roles; b) alliance building to harness more power, and c) providing future public service political leaders (Garilao 1987: 119). These ideas seem to resonate with the third set of NGO 'political' activities identified above.
Such is the level of support for discourses of democracy that one author argues that it has become the "central thread uniting the different strands of American Foreign policy in the post-Cold War era" (Lake in Chand 1997: 544). This is one of a number of global changes which Chand (1997) claims have contributed to the growing involvement of NGOs in promoting civil society worldwide. For a related argument, see Edwards and Hu!me's (1995) discussion on the influence of the 'New Policy Agenda' on the global proliferation and operation of NG0s.
2

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and their members together therefore is an interest in empowerment, not politics. 3 However this thesis has already indicated a number of historical instances where NGOs were either not allowed or did not want to be seen such a non-political tag. The most obvious example here is the period prior to and immediately following the ousting of President Ershad in 1990 when NGOs were openly accused of siding with the military regime against the 'people led prodemocratic movement'.4

The political concern about NGOs in Bangladesh revolves around the fact that like political groups, the success of NGOs depends to a great extent on their ability to mobilise a large and organised constituency. This concern was explicitly addressed in a number of meetings 5 which took place between leaders of the NGO community and different political parties immediately after the ousting of President Ershad. The meetings had been organised to basically clear the air between the NGO community and the political parties, and to discuss respective roles in the emerging democracy. Political party activists openly admitted during these meetings that throughout the Ershad period, NGOs had been far more successful than the parties in building and mobilising constituencies. 6 On the one hand they were jealous that NGOs had been so successful in recruiting members and in nurturing such a strong sense of loyalty among them, while on the other hand, they were clearly worried and anxious to know what NGO leaders intended doing with their grassroots membership. To a certain extent therefore, party activists acknowledged that NGOs had been far more successful in capturing the hearts and minds of clients and constituents (White 1996).

Anyone with a following of people in Bangladesh is considered politically significant. By implication, NGOs are political entities and any gloss used to cover over this will wear thin very quickly. What is of primary concern about NGOs in Bangladesh is not whether they are 'political' or not, but how, when, why and where they intend deploying their constituencies. It

Historically however, there are two clear examples of NGOs showing an interest in the formal political process. First of all, 160 BRAC samity members were candidates in the 1983 Union Parishad Elections and used their association with BRAC to attract voters. For further details of this initiative see Mustafa (1986). Secondly, in 1982 the Bangladesh Bhumihin Samity (Bangladesh Landless Organisation) was set up by a national NGO. Although the NGO stated that the aim of the organisation was to give the landless a platform from which to articulate their demands, many donors, other NGOs and national political activists suspected that the organisation was a smokescreen built to strengthen the political ambitions of the NGO itself. In 1984, the leadership of the NGO and Bangladesh Bhumihin Samity formally split. 4 See chapter two, section 5 for summary details. s Information for this section was generated through discussions with both Professor Wood and Mahubub Karim. My account here is based on recollections of one meeting attended by Professor Wood. Mahubub Karim confirmed the account and informed me that in fact a number of other meetings had been organised around this time to discuss these same issues. 6 As I mentioned in chapter two, section 3.2, one of the reasons behind the proliferation of NGOs in Bangladesh was that political parties were often suppressed and their activities heavily constrained. NGOs filled the political vacuum created by this political suppression.

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was on this issue that the political parties sought reassurance from the NGO community during the meetings referred to in the previous paragraph. This comes out even more clearly if we compare the different reactions to NGOs entering different types of 'political' areas around that time.

In the period immediately following the fall of Ershad, NGOs were actually expanding and strengthening their political position. In 1991, they published the first of a series of documents, already alluded to in the thesis, in which they present themselves as promoters and guarantors of politically salient issues such as the country's transition to democracy, the protection of human rights and the supervision of the law and order situation (ADAB 1991). 7 Again in the same year, NGOs were among the most active participants in a major research project commissioned by the Caretaker Government to analyse and prioritise different national development policies and strategies. This project consisted of 29 different Task Forces 9 looking at a wide range of policy issues and was intended to provoke and challenge politicians competing in the upcoming parliamentary elections (Task Force 1991). Finally, some of the prominent NGOs based in Dhaka were founding members of the Bangladesh Mukto Nirbacon Andalon (BAMNA), a non-partisan organisation organised to monitor the parliamentary elections which took place on 27 February 1991.

As far as I am aware, there were no major objections to the involvement of NGOs in these initiatives, and indeed their contribution was requested, appreciated and praised. This would suggest that there are political spaces in Bangladesh where NGOs may operate in a legitimate way. However, there are political boundaries which must not be transgressed as the case of the 1992 Union Parishad (UP) elections clearly shows. A number of NGO members presented themselves as candidates at these elections. In some cases, NGOs encouraged their members to contest the elections - as was the case of Gono Shahajjo Sanstha (GSS) in Nilphamari (North Bengal); while in other cases, members themselves took the decision unbeknown to the organisation's leaders - as was the case of Grameen Bank members. 9 In both cases, candidates used their connection to their respective organisations in their campaigning strategies and it is alleged that this influenced the electoral results. In the case of Grameen Bank members for example, they managed to have 400 candidates elected as Union Members and 2 candidates elected as Chairmen. Not surprisingly, rival candidates were unhappy about competing against an 'NG ticket' and formally complained to the respective organisations. In some cases, they also adopted more radical counter strategies. On the first day of voting in

7 The other documents which follow a very similar line to ADAB are ADAB (1996a, 1996b, 1997, Trinamul 1996).
8 The NGO community had members on 10 of the 29 task forces and contributed financially to the project which was eventually published in four volumes. The GSS case is recounted in Hashemi (1995) while that of Grameen Bank is reported in Uphoff eta! (1998).
9

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Nilphamari for example, the elected Chairman and the majority of members for one Union were all GSS candidates. Having seen these results, local elite groups organised themselves to ensure that the same pattern did not occur in the other 4 unions where GSS members had presented themselves as candidates. They therefore attacked GSS staff and members, destroyed the organisation's buildings, prevented GSS samity members from voting and filed cases against GSS staff accusing them of inciting public unrest. These tactics had the support of officials from the local government administration. The Deputy Commissioner of Nilphamari comment was that "when the poor get uppity and want to sit on the head of the rich, when they want to dominate, that cannot be allowed" (Hashemi 1995: 106).

To the extent therefore that NGOs manage their constituencies in political areas which are considered non-threatening (election monitoring, Task Forces and so on), their role will be welcomed and accepted. Conversely, in situations where their incursion into political areas is considered threatening (presenting themselves at political elections), attempts will be made to restrict if not sideline NG0s. 1 However there are no clear indications as to which areas are threatening or which are not the terrain is very much full of unknowns. Furthermore, as the next section will show, the terrain is also a fluid and politically contingent one and so NGOs have to make decisions and take positions according to particular contexts. Once again, the analytical focus is being placed not on some set of abstract principles (whether NGOs should be political or non-political), but on the moving contexts in which NGOs are embedded. This I would argue is what makes a study of the `NGO-political process' nexus a pertinent and interesting one.

2. THE NGO COMMUNITY AND THE 1996 PARLIAMENTARY ELECTIONS

The 1991 parliamentary elections were considered both free and fair (BAMNA 1991), instilling in many a renewed hope that the national political process might move in a more peaceful and stable direction. Although BNP won the election, it did not capture enough seats to form a government on its own. Consequently, it created a political pact with Jamate Islami which had secured 18 seats and Awami League thus became the main opposition party in parliament.

The initial enthusiasm experienced at the elections however soon wore off as both internal and external political pressures began to bear on the newly elected government. Externally, the cooperative relationship which BNP and Awami League had forged throughout the anti-Ershad movement began to deteriorate with the latter accusing the former of widespread corruption, nepotism and malpractice. Internally, the leadership of BNP was also divided on the direction

10 A point I tried to make more generally in Devine (1996a).

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the party was moving. While some were unhappy with the alliance which allowed Jamate Islami significant political leverage, the greatest source of contention concerned the relationship with Awami league. Some of the BNP leadership favoured more dialogue and others wanted outright confrontation. In general, the latter group had the upper hand and tension between the two parties intensified over time. This reached an impasse in 1994 when a bye-election took place in Magura following the death of the Awami League MP. The BNP nominee eventually won what was widely considered a highly rigged electoral competition, and this added fuel to Awami League's evolving campaign against the ruling party. Citing the experience of the Magura bye-election, the Awami League began to demand that all future general elections be held under a neutral caretaker government. This demand was immediately rejected and branded 'unconstitutional' by the BNP leadership.

For the purpose of our argument here, we can divide the ensuing political confrontation into two different phases, each presenting different protagonists. First of all, up until 15 February 199611 the 'anti-Government' political campaign was organised by an alliance of the country's three main opposition parties (Awami League, Jatiyo Party and Jamate Islarni). 12 Secondly, from 15 February 1996 onwards, both the NGO and business communities assumed a much more visible role in the political campaign. The emergence of these two groups at this conjuncture is historically significant for it is the first time they undertake a leading role in such a politically prominent struggle. In fact it is indicative of a more general but very significant shift in political life in Bangladesh_ in which middle class professionals, from both private and public sectors (academics, journalists, doctors, lawyers, development activists and so on), become main political mobilisers, assuming roles which are historically associated with student organisations and party funded demonstrators (Devine 1996b, Blair 1997, Karim 1999).

A defining moment in the programme organised by the political parties occurred in December of 1996 when all the opposition MPs resigned en masse in response to the Government's repeated refusal to discuss the question of holding future elections under a caretaker government. These resignations were followed by a drawn-out period of agitational politics consisting of repeated gheraos (pickets around official offices), midi& (processions), street blockades and hartals (strikes). Such was the intensity of the 'politics of the streets" (Blair 1997) that the country literally came to a standstill and even those in the remotest parts of the

This date is used to separate the two phases because it is the date BNP called parliamentary elections. The alliance was a strange one for many reasons. Politically Jarnate Islami stands in an antithetical position to the secularist agenda advocated by Awami League. Furthermore, Jamate Islami found itself mobilising against a Government it had initially supported.
12

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country were seriously affected. 13 As the confrontation between the Government and the opposition became more acute, different groups were asked to mediate between the rival parties and negotiate some sort of settlement. The most prominent among these mediators were: a) a group which came to be known as the five intellectuals', 14 b) diplomatic circles, 15 c) business groups, and d) the NGO community.18

On 25 November 1995, the leader of the BNP, Khaleda Zia, finally succumbed to increasing pressure, dissolved parliament and set new elections for 15 February 1996. The opposition groups however let it be known immediately that they would boycott these elections because Khaleda Zia had not handed over power to a caretaker government. In response to the boycott, the Government used its privileged position to try and legitimise the elections in whatever way it could. Hence, they sponsored a number of fake `writing-pad' political parties, 17 made strategic changes to major administrative offices 18 and politicised the distribution of development assistance. 19 All of these efforts however failed to stem the rise of public unrest and political turmoil. Consequently, only a minuscule fraction of the electorate (between 10 and 15%) turned out to cast their vote on 15 February and the international communities also refused to send any of its observers to monitor the event. With their 'electoral victory', BNP had won a ticket to political isolation.

While political strikes in Bangladesh almost always paralyse life in the major cities and towns, they do not usually affect people living and working in the rural areas in quite the same way. This time however, there were daily reports of incidents of violence, disruption, riots and deaths throughout the country. The economic effects of the programme also affected the poorest in a particularly adverse way. Using data provided by the Metropolitan Chamber of Commerce and Industry of Dhaka which calculated that a general strike (hartal) cost the nation as much as 60 million dollars per day, the Far Eastern Economic Review published an article claiming that this particular period of political instability meant a loss of almost one billion dollars (or 3.6% of the GDP) to the country (Far Eastern Economic Review, 28 September 1995 ). This loss of revenue was accompanied by an estimated 10% increase in inflation rates leading to a sharp increase in the price of essential goods and services. The situation was therefore desperate. 14 The group consisted of Kemaluddin Hossain (a former Chief Justice), Rehman Sobhan (a prominent economist), Fakhruddin Ahmed (a former foreign secretary) and Faiz Ehmed (a renowned journalist) and Ishtiaq Ahmed (a barrister). 15 The US ambassador to Bangladesh, Mr. David Merrill, played a high profile role throughout this time, although the support of other embassies (especially of the G7 countries) was important. Initially however, the role of both business and NGO communities was not as pronounced as the other groups identified. 17 For example any candidate who submitted election nomination papers was offered a sum of 10,000 taka (Dhaka Courier Vol. 12, No.25). 18 For example the Mayors in both Dhaka and Chittagong Metropolitan Commissions (both Awami League activists) were changed (Dhaka Courier Vol. 12, No. 20). For example, from October to December of 1995, the distribution of 'relief' rice and wheat was almost five times higher the amount originally targeted by the Government (Dhaka Courier Vol. 12, No. 23).
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13

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In response to the 15 February elections, the opposition parties began a nation wide noncooperation movement on 9 March which continued almost uninterrupted until 30 March when Khaleda Zia finally resigned once again from her post. One of the most important initiatives which came to symbolise this non-cooperation movement was the creation of a Janatar Mancha (People's Platform) in front of the Press Club in Dhaka. Set up by the Mayor of Dhaka (himself a prominent Awami League activist), the platform was used on a daily basis by national leaders from the political, academic, business and cultural communities to deliver speeches denouncing the Government in general and the 15 February elections in particular. A number of prominent NGO leaders either spoke or appeared on the Janatar Mancha, visibly aligning themselves therefore with those social forces and groups resisting BNP's political agenda.

Paradoxically then, the Government's attempts to impose the results of the 15 February elections gave the opposition the chance to take the political debate out of Parliament into the public domain. Leaders of the opposition parties began seeking the strategic support of other prominent activists like NGO leaders2 and slowly these key actors began to make public statements containing many of the demands originally formulated by the political parties. For example on 4 March, ADAB issued a well publicised press release demanding five points: a) the cancellation of the elections and the creation of a caretaker government, b) the release of all political leaders imprisoned by BNP, c) the full collaboration of opposition parties in resolving the political impasse, d) the curtailment of all forms of terrorism and oppression against women, and e) the freedom of expression for the mass media (ADAB 1996d). These were much the same demands around which the alliance of political parties had organised their programme. Of all the initiatives undertaken by NGOs during this time, by far the most controversial and significant was the citizen's rally which took place on 16 March.

Qazi Faruque Ahmed and Salman F Rahman, respective chairpersons of ADAB and the Federation of Bangladesh Chambers of Commerce and Industry (FBCCI) officially convoked the rally, which took place at the heart of Dhaka's commercial area, close to the official residence of the President. In line with several previous NGO statements (ADAB 1996d), the rally called for the cancellation of the 15 February elections and gave an ultimatum to the President warning that if a caretaker Government had not been installed within 24 hours, they would mobilise an all-out and uninterrupted manifestation of public dissent. The rally was
20 Although I am confident a number of meetings between NGO and Awami League leaders took place, I have no details regarding the content or frequency of these meetings: It is however likely that contacts between both groups started before the immediate political crises outlined above for as I stated in chapter two, section 5.3, NGOs themselves were looking for allies in their ongoing struggle with the BNP administration. The Awami League, together with other left-wing political parties, supported ADAB's decision to challenge the Government in the Supreme Court over the right to organise and stage the Poverty Convention. Eventually, the Poverty Convention was allowed to take place and leading activists of Awami League and other political parties attended (see chapter one, section 1). These and similar incidents probably facilitated a process in which representatives of the NGO community and particular political parties developed working relations.

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hugely significant not only because it brought both business and NGO communities together, but also because it was by far the biggest single staged event of the two-year-old political campaign against the BNP government, outstripping the meetings and rallies organised by the political parties. Over 100,000 people were present at the rally and the national media gave it extensive coverage.

When Khaleda Zia finally yielded to political pressure and resigned again on 30 March, a nonpartisan caretaker government was immediately entrusted with the task of organising fresh elections. At this point, ADAB made a significant change in its own strategy. It stopped using the Janatar Mancha as a platform from which to make public statements 21 and built instead on some of the initiatives and work which had either been tried out or were among the recommendations made by BAMNA in 19991. First of all, they set up the Fair Election Monitoring Alliance (FEMA) to co-ordinate the work of independently monitoring the electoral process. Secondly, they devised a voter awareness and education programme which was offered to twenty million citizens at the grassroots level (Ashman 1997: 42). This programme consisted of nine basic lessons, which were used to animate samity discussions. While some of the lessons were of a purely technical-juridical character (explaining for example the actual voting procedure), others were of a more reflective and pedagogical nature. Thus issues such as the relevance of democracy, the rights and responsibilities of candidates and citizens, the importance of a transparent political system, were all discussed? 2 Finally, ADAB also wrote a constituency advocacy programme identifying and analysing a number of different development issues (ADAB 1996a). This document was called the 'Citizen's Charter' and the idea was to deliver a copy of the charter to competing candidates and encourage them to respond publicly to and debate the issues raised.23

I was in Bangladesh for about five weeks prior to the 12 June 1996 elections and remained there for about two weeks afterwards. During this time, I visited a number of NGOs in different parts of the country in order to look at how they were carrying out these voter education programmes. It was a very hectic but exciting time for NGOs with samity meetings throughout the day, public debates in the evening and often, cultural activities at night. The effort and

After 30 March, the Janatar Mancha was used mostly by Awami League as a platform from which to announce its electoral programme. For this reason the ADAB leadership strategically decided to distance itself from the platform and concentrate instead on other initiatives which might positively influence the political process. For further details on the history, content and implementation of the voter education programme see Devine (1996b) and Ashman (1997). The main themes addressed in this document are: a) democratisation, b) independence of judiciary, c) administrative reform, d) local government system, e) independent and neutral role of election commissioner, f) legal rights of women, g) neutral role of mass media, h) sustainable development (ADAB 1996a). For a number of reasons, ADAB could not distribute the Charter as widely as it had planned and this meant that there were very few cases where prospective candidates publicly debated the issues raised in the document.
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creativity of many NGO activists undoubtedly contributed to the electoral fever which had gripped the whole country. 24 NGOs were not the only ones working in this way. In fact, the caretaker government sponsored their own electoral awareness campaign, besides supporting and encouraging the programmes devised by others like NG0s. As one member of the caretaker government told me: "we were determined to promote a healthy electoral environment and NGOs were among the most active and creative organisations to respond to our request for help. The campaigns organised by ADAB, MARC 25 and the Election Commission all complemented each other, and they all helped create the kind of environment we had hoped for: a mela (carnival) atmosphere where people would not feel frightened or threatened, but happy and optimistic."

The 1996 parliamentary elections did in fact turn out to be like a me/a. Most observers noted that it was one of the most peaceful, organised and participated elections since Independence. More importantly, it was the first time in the history of Bangladesh that political power was transferred from one group to another not by force, but through the ballot box. For the purposes of this thesis, three general observations need to be made about these elections:

a) there was a record voter turn out generally (74% of the electorate) and an even more significant increase in the number of women voting (Ahmad 1996),26 b) the role of NGOs in encouraging the active participation of the electorate and promoting fair elections was acknowledged both nationally and internationally, c) over 87% of the seats were won by Awami League or BNP, creating what is arguably the most polarised elected parliament in the country's history. The party that suffered the greatest electoral loss was, as the table below shows, Jamate Islami.

Ashman (1997) reports of one leader putting in 20 hour workdays during this period. I also witnessed this on a number of occasions. In fact the whole campaign was built mostly on human energy and enthusiasm, and many participants offered to work on a purely voluntary basis. 'Given the constraints felt on so much NGO work by the demands of proposal-writing, budgeting, monitoring and report-writing, the satisfaction of ADAB leaders in their sector's collective accomplishment without external funding is well-taken (Ashman 1997: 41-42). BRAC and the Grameen Bank were among those who used the voter education material prepared by the Multidisciplinary Action Resource Centre (MARC). 26 Prior to the 1996 elections for example, the NGO community had been alerted to the situation of women in two unions: one in Feni and another in Madarapur. I visited the union in Madarapur and found that women there had not voted for 34 years after a local matbar decided that "voting was not a women's thing." In this case, a national NGO played a crucial role in highlighting the case and helping the women confront a process they did not know and were afraid of.
25

24

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Table 4: Parliamentary Election Results of 1991 and 12 June 1996

PARTY Awami League BNP Jamate Islami Jatiyo Party Islami Oikka Jote Jatiya Samajtantrik Dal (Rab) Other parties Independents

No. of Seats '91 88 140 18 35 1 0 15 3

No. of Seats '96 145 118 2 32 1 1 0 1

3. THE `NGO-POLITICAL PROCESS' NEXUS IN BANGLADESH FACTIONS

The position of ADAB in the run up to the elections proved to be very controversial and remains a source of contention even today for NG0s, donors, politicians and academics alike. Fuelling this controversy is the question of whether or not the actions of ADAB jeopardised the 'political neutrality' of the NGO community. The first public expression of the controversy occurred the day after the 15 March Rally when the press published a letter written by the Executive Director of BRAG to Qazi Faruque Ahmed, the Chairperson of ADAB. In this letter, the Executive Director of BRAC argued that the rally had been of a politically partisan nature and that the NGO community had therefore no legitimate role therein. Following this letter, two national newspapers (the Daily Star and the Doinik Bang/a) widened the debate by using the rally to engage in a discussion on the general political role of NGOs in Bangladesh. The Daily Star was generally favourable to the position of ADAB leaders at the rally arguing that the Constitution guaranteed their right to freedom of speech and association. The Doinik meanwhile attacked the position taken by ADAB and accused NGOs of inter alia undermining local cultures and religion, operating on behalf of foreign agents, cheating their members to pay for their own lavish lifestyles and using their members as vote banks.27

This debate remains unresolved. A recent article by Hashemi and Hassan (1999) for example analyses the involvement of NGOs in the 1996 elections and argues that the close relationship between ADAB leaders and the ruling Awami League constitutes an example of factional alliances and loyalties, with the former playing the role of political clients to the latter. In this analysis, NGOs are portrayed as having betrayed their original commitment to transform power structures and strengthen grassroots movements (Hashemi and Hassan 1999) in order to gain

27 These are well-rehearsed criticisms that emerge every time there is some sort of polemic involving NG0s.
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privileged access to the resources and the party in power commands. This perspective is contested in ongoing work carried out by Karim (1999). He elaborates a theme associated with the Indian social scientist Rajni Kothari (1984, 1992) and applied to the context of Bangladesh by Westergaard and Hossain (1997), to argue that NGO involvement in the 1996 elections heralded the emergence of a new social phenomenon in Bangladesh, namely, non-party political formations. This is interpreted by the author as a sign that NGOs have finally broken out of the 'welfare cocoon' that they themselves had spun (Karim 1999: 17) and embraced a more relevant and mature role as civil society actors promoting a world order in which the poor are empowered.

One of the weaknesses I find in both the above mentioned articles (and which I also find generally in discussions on the supposed political involvement of NGOs in 1996) is that NGOs are treated as if they were socially isolated organisations, immune from their contexts. Their behaviour and actions are therefore shown to be pathological (Hashemi and Hassan 1999) or mature (Karim 1999) expressions of what NGOs should be like. The reference point or yardstick is still the abstract and a-historical `NGO model' and the debate is circular; it begins and ends with NGOs themselves. In order to understand the positions adopted by actors like the NGO community before, during and after the 1996 elections, I would suggest instead that it is imperative to examine closely the wider context of political life in Bangladesh.

This suggestion builds on one of the presumptions adopted throughout the thesis, i.e. that there is constant permeability between NGOs and socio-political structures and that their interactions usually produce sui generis outcomes. The terrain is, as I stated earlier, one of unknowns and fluidity and the analytical models used to understand NGOs are often poorly equipped to deal with the complex negotiations and bargaining inherent to socio-political life in Bangladesh. In the section which follows, I intend exploring the NGO-politics nexus through the experience of Shammo. The material provided will show that it is both inevitable and necessary for NGOs to be actively involved in political negotiations. Partisanship or political neutrality remains a legitimate concern in this discussion, not however as a conceptual refuge but as an attempt to offer a coherent response to a sphere of human life (i.e. the 'political') which is internally complex and externally uncertain.

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4. SHAMMO AND THE POLITICAL PROCESS: AN UNHAPPY DIVORCE

In 1986, President Ershad took advantage of a rift within the opposition parties which had unified against him, and called parliamentary elections. 28 While the Awami League led alliance and the Jamate Islami agreed to participate in the elections, the BNP led alliance and an alliance of five smaller leftwing parties did not. In the area where Shammo was working, only two candidates stood for election: Rashid Talukdar of the ruling Jatiyo Party and Amzad, an Independent.

Amzad had already established working relations with Shammo when he stood as a candidate in the upazila elections of May 1985 29 against Gopal from Raipur. Since both men were Union chairmen, they each had sizeable groups of 'home followers' whom they could rely on at elections. Victory in the upazila election depended therefore on capturing the votes of people from other Unions. Gopal was a known ally of the major jotedars around Boro Bagher Beel and had always offered them his support in their struggle against Shammo. For Shammo therefore, a victory for Gopal would have spelt disaster. Amzad on the other hand had publicly sided with Shammo when they lodged their first case against Saidur Chairman and defended the ADC Revenue's subsequent decision to lease a further 203 acres of land to Shammo members. 39 A victory for Amzad would therefore have been to Shammo's obvious advantage. Reaching a decision on which candidate to support however was not that simple for as Kayesh explained:

At the time, there were approximately 12,000 landless people with Shammo and that made us the single biggest group in the whole area. Both Gopal and Amzad were desperate for our votes. At first we did not know what to do and we used to spend nights just talking about the elections. We knew that if we voted together, we could make a difference. But we were not sure if we could convince all the samities to vote together... The jotedars hated Amzad and we liked him. But Gopal was powerful. We listened and spoke to both men and they said that they would help us in the future. We could never trust Gopal. We knew he was speaking to us during the day and staying with Saidur Chairman and other jotedars at night. When the landless saw this, they understood that Gopal would take back all the khas land and give it to Saidur and his friends. And that was the main reason the samity members felt they had to vote for Amzad it was the best way to protect their land, their houses and their lives.

From 1983, leading political parties began to co-ordinate their activities and mobilise against the military regime of Ershad. They formulated a five-point programme demanding the lifting of martial law and the restoration of democracy. 29 The upazila system was introduced as part of Ershad's decentralisation programme. An elected Chairman headed the upazila parishads (upazila councils) which became very powerful institutions since they were the centres of local administration and development and they could make decisions without seeking approval from higher authorities. For more details of Local Government Reforms in Bangladesh see Khan (1999).
30

28

See chapter five, section 4.1. 237

Amzad was elected upazila chairman by a majority of about 10,000 votes. For the first time in their history, Shammo's members had mobilised as a group in an electoral context.

Amzad's decision however to stand at the parliamentary elections of 1986 came as a surprise to many. Although he was a popular upazila chairman, his opponent, Rashid Talukdar, had both the backing of the ruling party as well as numerous alliances with local elites, including all those who had sided with Gopal in the upazila elections. Notwithstanding this, Rashid was still very keen to secure the Shammo vote' for he himself had seen how influential it had been in the upazila elections. This put Shammo's members in a strategic dilemma. On the one hand, they were politically more sympathetic to Amzad than they were to Rashid Talukdar, but on the other hand, they knew that Rashid Talukdar was far more politically significant and powerful than Amzad. Paradoxically therefore, the one person who could really help 31 Shammo was the same person who was politically aligned against them.

The matter was discussed among the landless and with staff at DONOR A. In the end, Shammo took a risk and offered its support to Rashid Talukadar with the proviso that he redress three conditions which were hindering its work:

a) the 51 staff or members of Shammo who were in jail at that time falsely accused of various public disorder crimes, be released, b) the lease of 221 acres of khas land which had been issued by the ADC Revenue but contested by the local jotedars, be respected and implemented, c) the budget submitted by Shammo and approved by DONOR A be approved by the External Resource Division (ERD).32

Rashid Talukdar initially agreed to all the conditions and asked in return that some of Shammo's staff and members accompany him on his campaign. 33 However as the Election Day approached, Shammo realised that Rashid Talukdar had made no effort to implement any of the pre-electoral pacts he had agreed to. Consequently, Shammo's leaders again consulted with DONOR A and decided to withdraw their support for the Jatiyo Party candidate. They therefore advised their members to 'vote as they like'. That strategy was to prove decisive for

It is worth recalling what kind of difficulties Shammo was actually facing: court cases, jail sentences, physical aggression, uncooperative local administration and so on (see chapter five, section 4.2). Before the creation of the NGO Bureau in 1989, the ERD was responsible for approving and monitoring those NGO budgets using external financial sources. 33 This request shows the political importance Rashid Talukdar gave to being seen in the company of Shammo members.
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although Rashid Talukdar easily 'won' the election without Shammo's support, 34 he used his new position as a member of parliament to collude even more with those allies who had offered their support: i.e. the jotedars. Shammo's calculated risk was to backfire.

On the very day of voting, warrants were issued for the arrests of Shammo's leaders accusing them of stealing votes and obstructing the electoral process. A number of other cases were subsequently lodged with various Government ministries and departments. In fact at one point not long after the elections, Shammo was being investigated simultaneously by the Bureau of anti-corruption, the National Security Intelligence, the ERD and the Department of Social Welfare (Source not referenced to safeguard anonymity). In May of 1986, a letter cancelling Shammo's registration had been typed and was awaiting the signature of the relevant authority. Luckily for Shammo, one of DONOR A's staff was an old acquaintance of the person who was to sign the letter of de-registration. Once again, a 'friend of a friend' was needed to help Shammo at a particularly delicate moment.

5. SHAMMO AND POLITICS: BETTER LUCK SECOND TIME ROUND

Mahfuz was always eager to talk about the 1996 parliamentary elections. Not only did he claim to play a pivotal role in the whole campaign locally, but he was also one of the prominent samity leaders who supposedly changed their political allegiance in response to the initiative set in motion by the NGO community.

The central role played by Mahfuz in the 1996 elections is related to the fact that he was heavily involved in the work of the Trinamul Janasangathan. Together with other NGO samity members from around the country, he was asked to attend a meeting of Trinamul in Dhaka which had been convened to discuss the political situation in the country. Mahfuz told me that it was during this meeting that he took the decision to publicly support Awami League. Below I reproduce an abridged version of his account of the meeting.

34 Government interference in the 1986 parliamentary elections was so extensive that the national television did not announce the results for over 30 hours "allegedly to enable results to be vetted by the office of the Supreme Commander before being announced" (BAMNA 1991: 20-21). In the working area of Shammo, people told me numerous stories of how Rashid Talukdar used hired gangs to prevent voters from reaching the polling stations.

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There were about 100 people present at the meeting and it was chaired by Faruque bhai.35 The first day consisted of an open discussion on the country's political situation and we also talked about the performance of different leaders of our country starting with Mujib.36 [I asked him how the different parties were spoken about]

We talked about all the parties except `Jamat'. They are fundamentalist and don't like NGOs or our samities. A lot of those attending criticised BNP because of the false elections they had organised on 15 February and because they had tried to ban us from having our big meeting in Dhaka. 37 Awami League was generally well spoken about. People pointed out that Awami League had supported Tfinamul's meeting and when Mujib was in power, the government tried to give poor people khas land and allocate more of the budget for development work. No-one had much to say about Jatiyo Party.... [I asked him what he remembered most of the meeting]

Those who organised the meeting kept talking about the elections and told us that if we worked together, there was a chance we could get the changes needed to improve our situation. If we did not work together however, we would be wasting a good opportunity. They told us to stand united. [I asked him who was doing most of the talking at the meeting]

Most of the time, different NGO leaders spoke. They had organised the meeting. But different samity members were also asked to speak. [I asked him why he had decided to vote for Awami League]

I was a supporter of Jatiyo Party and I had no intention of changing my vote. But when everyone started talking about doing something together in the meeting, I became more interested. On the second day of the meeting, a kind of mock election was organised and people from different parts of the country were asked to say how they felt the election would go in their areas. I explained that in our constituency, Awami League had a good chance of winning, but that it would be a tough contest. I did not tell them that I was with the Jatiyo Party. At the end, all the different opinions were counted and Awami League was found to be in the strongest position. [I therefore suggested that he changed his vote simply because he wanted to vote a winner] That is not true. Trinamul decided to support Awami League because it was more willing to help the poor and because we all felt it had a good chance of winning. But I changed my vote because I believe that if all the samity members stick
36 This is the chairperson of ADAB. Members from ADAB have from the very beginning acted in an advisory capacity to TrinamuL 36 Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, known as the Father of the Nation. 37 This is a reference to the Poverty Convention of 1 January 1996 (see chapter one, section 1).

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together, we can really change things. That is what I told everyone in the meeting: we need to work together. Politics in Bangladesh is an important part of people's daily lives and a considerable amount of time is generally spent 'talking politics'. Shammo members are no novices in the art of 'talking politics' and they expect to talk together about electoral competitions. They may not always reach an agreement on what to do, but they do discuss different political matters among themselves in both formal and informal settings. To presume or expect otherwise is extremely naive.

Mahfuz was the first to formally raise the question of the 1996 parliamentary elections with the Executive Committee of Shammo. He explained to them what had happened at the Trinamul meeting in Dhaka and urged the other members to consider adopting Trinamul's decision to support Awami League. It is highly likely that most of the Executive Committee had however already decided to vote Awami League simply because Rashid Talukdar had been nominated as the BNP candidate for the area following his defection from the Jatiyo Party. Mahfuz's proposal was accepted and plans were drawn up to mobilise the rest of Shammo's members and other local landless non-members around the decision.

The one person who objected to the Executive Committee's decision was Anjan, the elected Chairman of Shammo. Since becoming Chairman in 1992, Anjan had become a strong and purposeful leader and this quality was recognised by staff, members and non-members alike. At the meeting, he informed the others that he and Kayesh had talked informally about the 1996 parliamentary elections before the Trinamul meeting, but that they had never talked about Shammo adopting a common electoral strategy. Anjan had been associated with BNP since the early 1990s and he told the other members of the Executive Committee that he was not prepared to change his political allegiance on the whim of a few NGO leaders in Dhaka. He explained his decision to me in this way:

The Executive Committee decision was all a set up. NGOs all around here, including Shammo, organised voter education meetings and used the slogan amar vote ami debo, dekhe shune bujhe debo. 38 So that is exactly what I did, I voted for the party I thought was the best: BNP. But Shammo did not like this. If the poor really use their own brains (nijer buddh0, NGOs are unhappy. Following the meeting of the Executive Committee, all the different samities were asked to think about Trinamul's suggestion. A bigger meeting was then organised to which many of the

38 This slogan was strongly emphasised in the voter education programme. It literally translates as: 'I will cast my vote after having seen, listened and understood', and the inference of the slogan is that people should vote using their own judgement.

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General Committee members came. 39 There once again, Mahfuz talked about the meeting he had attended in Dhaka and other members of the Executive Committee contributed to the ensuing discussions. At this meeting, the landless members of Shammo decided to try and mobilise their whole membership for the elections. By not attending this meeting and openly accusing Shammo's leadership of abusing their authority, Anjan formalised his split from the organisation and began openly campaigning for BNP.

How did Shammo actually implement its mobilisation efforts? To answer this question, it is perhaps best to distinguish the work carried out by Shammo's staff from the work carried out by the samity members. I will begin with the former.

Members of Shammo's staff were responsible mainly for implementing the different programmes devised by ADAB. 49 They were the ones therefore who organised different samity meetings on various political and electoral themes. In theory, every samity covered the basic nine lessons of the voter education primer. Since I had begun my fieldwork almost seven months after the elections, it was difficult for me to gauge how effective these lessons had been. While I found that generally Shammo members had a good knowledge of both the technical and 'theoretical' aspects of the political process (material covered in the education awareness programme), I also knew that they had acquired through years of simply `talking politics', a strong and acute political mindedness.

Besides the samity meetings, Shammo staff also organised a number of public events for members and non-members alike. These included cultural evenings where a repertoire of songs, sketches and plays were used to tackle issues such as electoral bribes, violence and so on. Shammo was also one of the few organisations which managed to hold a public debate with all the main political candidates. The candidates were asked to reply to a series of questions, based on points outlined in the 'Citizen's Charter' (ADAB 1996a), which were put to them by Shammo members. This was an unusual and innovative event. Usually, speakers at political rallies simply deliver their prepared speeches to the crowds attending, and no time is given to debate or discussion.

Finally, the staff of Shammo monitored the polling centres and voting procedure on the actual election day. In line with the rest of the country, the election campaign in Shammo's working area was carried out in an ordered and peaceful manner. Below I reproduce the final results of the June 1996 parliamentary elections for Shammo's working area. The results from 1991 are also provided for comparative purposes.

39

See Organisation Chart 1 in chapter five.

Most of Shammo's staff attended special 'training-of-trainer' courses for the voter education programme. Material for these courses was again devised by ADAB.

40

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Table 5:1991 Parliamentary Elections Results for Shammo's Working Area41

Party Jamate Islami Awami League (Baksal) BNP Jatiyo Party Others

Votes Received 55,707 49,923 24,815 17,451 3,257

% of Votes Received 36.85 33.03 16.42 11.54 2.61

Table 6: 12 June, 1996 Parliamentary Elections Results for Shammo's Working Area

Party Awami League BNP Jamate Islami Jatiyo Party Others

Votes Received 73,335 58,652 42,265 1,231 1,199

% of Votes Received 41.51 33.20 23.92 0.70 0.68

The 1996 electoral result in Shammo's working area reflected national trends in many ways. First of all, the voter turn out was significantly higher that the 1991 turn out. Secondly, Awami League and BNP together secured just under 75% of the total votes and other parties became marginal actors in the whole competition. Finally, the Jamate Islami candidate lost his parliamentary seat to the Awami League candidate. Shammo members often boasted about how important they had been in determining the eventual outcome of the elections. One night while talking with a group of samity members from Jaybash, I suggested that an Awami League victory was predictable even before Shammo began to mobilise their members. One member, obviously annoyed at my comment, reacted in this way:

Ask those who belong to the local Awami League club if that is true or not. Elections are complicated. Right up to the election day, `party people' visit the different samaj leaders and household heads to try and convince them with bribes to vote for their parties. So while our samity members said they would vote

41 This information has been taken from the 1991 and 1996 published reports of the National Election Commission.

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together, that vote had to be protected. If Rotun Shaheb42 is sitting in Dhaka now, it is mainly because of our work here. [At this point, I asked them to explain what kind of work the members actually carried out, teasing them slightly by saying that most of the voter education programme had been organised by Shammo's staff. A different member answered] We all worked very hard. When we went to work in the field or when we went to the bazaar, we talked to each other and asked questions about what was happening in each other's villages. We had to make sure we knew exactly what the other parties were up to. We even took it in turns to guard our villages at night to make sure that no-one came to sweet-talk our samity members. We did this every night right up until the election day. Look at what happened in Kanpur. Since Rashid Talukdar was born in Kanpur, he put a lot of pressure on our samity members there to vote for him. We heard that some of them went over to his side and that others were being bribed. So we went to Kanpur and organised a big meeting of all the landless. That meeting encouraged the samity members for they realised they were not alone. If we had not gone there, Rashid would have slowly got all the samity members to vote for him. We did influence the election results. Ask anyone, they will tell you... I realised during that meeting that the suggestion to go and ask other people was not such a bad one. I therefore decided to devise a questionnaire to look specifically at political issues and themes (appendix two). I chose three villages where three different NGOs were working. Since the villages were from different unions of the same thana, they were situated quite far from each other. My intention was to try and tap into varied and different electoral experiences and contexts. In each of the villages I visited, I randomly chose 10 male and 10 female NGO members, and 10 male and 10 female non-members for the interviews. It was not my intention with this study to generate (nor do I pretend to offer) statistical evidence proving whether or not Shammo (or other NG05) had influenced the electoral process. Instead, I was interested in gathering information about whether or not people believed Shammo (or other NG05) had or could influence the electoral process. People's perceptions constitute valuable data and their responses, even if uninformed, can speak in ways statistics often cannot do.43

What was striking about the interviews was that the responses seemed to mirror many of the claims Shammo members in Jaybash and NGO activists in Dhaka had made. Hence, over half of the respondents believed that NGOs do affect electoral results (Question 9.4), and again just over half of the respondents felt that NGOs were directly and actively involved in the June 1996 parliamentary elections (Question 6.1). When asked whether or not NGOs had canvassed for a particular party, the most frequent response was that they had done so, and had supported Awami League (Question 6.3). Finally, the efforts of NGOs were singled out as being

42 The Awami League candidate who was elected Member of Parliament. Shaheb means 'mister' and is often used as an honorary appellation. 43 See appendix two for fuller details on the methodology and rationale for this study. I am especially indebted to Md. Mustafa for his help in this particular part of my research.

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the main reason behind the increase in the number of women voters in the June 1996 elections (Question 8).

These responses reflect the perceptions of ordinary men and women, many of whom are illiterate, the vast majority of whom are poor (Question 1). I found however that their perceptions concurred strongly with the more 'informed' analysis of the local leaders of the three main parties (BNP, Jamate Islami and Awami League) whom I also interviewed. When asked to explain how Shammo had affected the fortunes of their own parties locally, the responses of these leaders were as follows:

Shammo did not like our candidate and we tried on a number of occasions to speak to Kayesh but he said it was the samities we had to talk to, and not him. If Shammo had worked for BNP, we would have won. Anjan 45 campaigned for us but very few samity members joined him. If I could speak to Khaleda Zia in Dhaka, I would tell her to talk more with NGOs because they do some good work and are an important resource when elections come round. (BNP Thana President)

Our leaders said that NGO propaganda was the main reason we lost so many seats and I think they are right. But it was all false propaganda because we always support groups that help the poor. Here our party and Shammo members did not meet. People say that all Shammo landless voted for Awami League. I cannot say if that is true or not. But if it true, then of course they affected the results for Shammo has many members. Shammo's advantage is that it has daily contacts with people while parties only come around when there are elections. Shammo members trust Kayesh more than they trust politicians. (Jamate Islami Rokhok)46

This has always been an Awami League area. In 1990, 'Jamat' won because they had BNP support and because our party was divided. This time we worked hard and we worked together and that is why we won. Yes, most of the landless samities voted for our party but that is because we are the party that helps the poor and we have always supported Shammo. I admit that if the landless had supported BNP, our job would have been more difficult. But that will never happen. (Awami League Thana Secretary)

44 Rashid Talukdar. 45 The ex Chairman of Shammo. 46 In the political structure of Jamate Islam', the party leader at the thana level is known as Amir, an Arabic word denoting a noble or wealthy status. He in turn is helped by Rokhoks, which in Bengali means keeper, caretaker or protector.

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6. CLIENTELISM, ALLIANCES AND TRUST

The three statements of the political leaders indicate that some form of political network has been constructed around Shammo, and that this network is of strategic value. In the area where I carried out fieldwork research, people were not surprised that samities (not just those of Shammo) are active when elections occur. For the vast majority of people in Bangladesh, both the notion and praxis of politics are by their very essence inter-mediated phenomena. The institutions which broker political relationships are the same 'units of exchange and solidarity',47 which map people's economic and social interactions. In his fieldwork for example, Siddiqui noted that:

The voting pattern in both Union and national level elections is heavily influenced by the Matbars who act as vote banks. In all the elections that have taken place so far, they have been the crucial contact points, and over and above the general campaign, either the candidate himself or supporters or activists on his behalf from the concerned political party approached Matbars [...] of the 45 factional followers interviewed, only 7 were approached by the candidates alone and the rest were approached either by the Matbar alone or by the candidate along with a Matbar. (Siddiqui 1987: 259) The 'Inquiry into NGO Electoral Strategies' (see appendix two) which I carried out, confirmed that this system is still very much in place. When I asked people who most influenced or informed their voting decision (Question 3), very few responded that their choice was a 'personal choice'. Instead, the vast majority admitted that different intermediary institutions like the family or the samaj played an important role. Interestingly however, a high and significant proportion of NGO members indicated that the samity or the NGO influenced their voting patterns. Furthermore, of the 22 NGO members who admitted that they voted for a different party in 1996 from that in 1991 (Question 2.4), 12 mentioned that their NGO was one of the reasons they decided to change (Question 2.4-a).

Inter-mediation therefore continues to be an important process which structures actors' political behaviour. To the extent that many of the poor seek to build livelihood strategies around NGOs either as an alternative or supplement to traditional patterns of kinship and patronage, they will also politically invest in their authority and leverage. Any attempt therefore to uproot the 'political' from the 'poor-NGO relation' would, to extend McGregor's (1998) analysis of patronage and clientelism, constitute another example of 'de-moralising' the same relationship. 48 The challenge therefore is, as I have insisted throughout the thesis, to interpret

47

See chapter three, section 3. See chapter three, section 6.

48

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this reality, not to wish it away.

The perspective which most frequently surfaces in discussions regarding the NGO-poor relation in political and electoral matters is that the poor are obliged to follow NGO indications or orders because they are indebted to them. This is a fundamental characteristic of all patron-client relations. Nicholas (1966) for example argues that in any "factional organisation, the content of the transaction from leaders to followers is diverse, though the followers all return political support to the leader' (Nicholas 1966: 56, emphasis added). In discussions carried out for the 'Inquiry into NGO Electoral Strategies' (see appendix two), I found that the majority of people for example believed that NGO members would follow the advice of their NGOs in electoral matters (Question 9.2). Interestingly, the most important reason given to explain this was that members are obliged to respond politically to NGOs because they receive different services and help from them (Question 9.2-b). In the specific case of Shammo, Anjan, the ex chairman, forwarded this view most forcibly: All the landless listen to and follow what Kayesh says. If they do not follow him, they will be thrown out of the organisation like I was or will be excluded from whatever benefits and contacts Kayesh can provide. The poor depend on NGOs and the NGOs take advantage of that dependence. If the semi& members could access the same contacts as Kayesh, would he be that happy? If other members of other NGOs were to become economically self-sufficient and left their organisations, do you think the NGOs would be happy? Of course they would not be. NGOs need the poor to be samity members, more than they need them to be free and autonomous. While Anjan focuses on the principle of support in exchange for services at the local level, Hashemi and Hassan (1999) make a mirror claim at the national level. In their analysis of the role of ADAB in the 1996 parliamentary elections, they argue that ADAB leaders aligned themselves politically with Awami League. Towards the end of their argument, they point both to "anecdotal evidence" which suggests that certain NGOs (those most aligned with Awami League) were enjoying "patronage distribution from the state", and to media reports of a "lack of transparency in the offering of construction contracts to specific NGOs" (Hashemi and Hassan 1999: 129).

The very crude causal argument of this first interpretation can be summarised in the following way. NGOs become involved in the formal political processes because they are leaders of large constituencies. By aligning themselves with the electoral victors, NGOs look to gain favours and benefits which they can then pass onto their loyal followers. In this way, their hold over their clients is reinforced. This circular type argument is both attractive and straightforward. Ultimately however, it is a superficial argument in that it perceives mechanisms of patronage or clientelism in an all too static way. If political action can reinforce clientelistic structures, as Hashemi and Hassan rightly indicate, then logically it can also either alter or even enervate it. The basic principle of structuration (Giddens 1984) is that in every social 'interface', practices are continually constructed and re-constructed. Hashemi and Hassan 247

recognise this because they too state that the emerging forms of political clientelism are in fact 'new ones' (Hashemi and Hassan 1999: 129). But in recognising the question, it seems to me that they have then left it unexplored. My objection to Hashemi and Hassan's line of enquiry therefore is not that they go too far, but that they do not go far enough.

I would therefore like to forward a second interpretation of the NGO-poor relation in political and electoral matters, which draws more on structuration principles. This interpretation states that in all forms of clientelism, there is room for bargaining and some degree of autonomy for the different actors involved. This can best be seen in the different uses and perceptions actors themselves make and have of the same patron-client relationship type. Again in very crude terms, the causal argument of this second interpretation would be that NGO members, operating as clients, use the political space brokered for them by their NGO patrons, to pursue particular strategies they believe are beneficial. By politically investing in and building "officializing strategies" (Bourdieu 1977: 40) around NG05, the poor try to generate a more predictable and safer environment. This is an actor-orientated perspective on the clientelistic networks which are formed, as I stated in the previous chapter, through organisational brokerage. The interpretation however is not merely a theoretical reflection for it was suggested and confirmed to me by the landless themselves. One night while talking about these issues with some of the samity members, I asked them what they thought about Anjan's comments that the poor were being used by NG0s. One of those present replied:

It is true we need Shammo to help us, but look at Anjan now. A year ago, he was the chairman of Shammo and people were saying he had a chance of becoming a Union Chairman. Now people say he is a rajakar and that he took a bribe to support BNP. 49 Now he would not get enough votes to be a member of the UP council, never mind its chairman. He has no support and is associated with people that the landless can't trust. Today his new friends call him bhai (brother), tomorrow they will steal his land... [at this point, Mahfuz takes over and continues the discussion]

I am not Kayesh's puppet and people here did not vote for Awami League because Kayesh said so, but because of what happened at the Trinamul meeting. We know that the big NGOs have contacts with the powerful people in our country. I can't get to see Hasina, 5 but they can. Kayesh doesn't have to tell us what to do for we have been with Shammo for years and we know that the samity is the best chance we have of improving our lives. Anjan is right. We do depend on NGOs and that is not good. But he took a risk with someone else and look what happened because

49 The term rajakar refers to the military force organised by the Pakistan army in 1971 to fight in the war of Independence. When used today, it has strong negative connotations. Anjan was for years a respected leader of the landless. Now, he carries around with him the accusations that he is a rajakar and that he took a 50,000 taka bribe from Rashid Talukdar to canvass for BNP. I do not know if the accusations are true or not, but I do know that the stigma_attached to the accusations is very strong and damaging. 5 The Prime Minister and leader of the Awami League.

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of that relationship. Our choice is a much better one than his because at least we still have friends who can help us move forward... In these statements, both men acknowledge that they are clients. However they attempt to distinguish in qualitative terms their form of clientelism from that of Anjan. First of all, they feel they have wisely invested their client status while Anjan has wasted his. According to their calculations, Anjan has taken an unnecessary risk and his future is now uncertain. They on the other hand feel more secure and confident for at least they still have friends who can help Them move forward. Secondly, Mahfuz's statement in particular qualifies the type of clientelism he chooses to invest in. He admits to being dependent, but is adamant he is not Wayesh's puppef. He considers his choice a good one because it offers access to a wider institutional framework which he perceives as being politically competent, authoritative and powerful. Although poor, he believes that he has an effective link to the highest levels of the country's political structure. The potential significance of this (in his mind at least) is captured nicely in his comment that his intermediaries 'can get to see Hasina'. Finally, both men touch upon the importance of trust in their statements. They have been with Shammo 'for years' and this injects a sense of insurance and predictability into their relationship. It is indicative that the basis of their pessimistic diagnosis of Anjan's position and future is that his network cannot be trusted and is unpredictable: 'today they call him brother, tomorrow they will steal his land'.

This second interpretation does not deny the idea indicated by Nicholas (1966) theoretically, Anjan locally and Hashemi and Hassan (1999) nationally, that the do ut des principle is an important key to understand the political subordination of clients to their patrons. In fact, in discussions carried out for the 'Inquiry into NGO Electoral Strategies' (see appendix two), the argument that members give political support in exchange for services received from NGOs was the one that was most emphasised (Question 9.2-b). However, if we disaggregate the data of Question 9.2-b and focus only on the responses of the NGO members, we see that the most important reason they have for listening to NGO advice on political matters is that they trust the relationship they have with their organisations. In other words, they interpret their 'political subordination' in a fundamentally different way. What appears therefore as an act of deferential submission in Anjan's eyes is actually, as Mahfuz points out, a safer and more secure choice in what is a very volatile and risky environment. In terms of the discussion made earlier in the thesis,51 Anjan sees Kayesh as a monopolistic patron, Mahfuz sees him as a gatekeeper.

51 See chapter six, section 6.

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7. THE iNGO-POLITICAL PROCESS' NEXUS IN BANGLADESH EVOLVING

The samity members of Shammo generally share Mahfuz's prognosis that with the 1996 election behind them, they will be able to positively 'move forward'. The landless therefore view the June 1996 parliamentary election experience not as a one-off phenomenon, but as a conjuncture in an evolving process which has both a history and a future. Two significant changes have occurred since the electoral mobilisation effort which indicate the kind of direction the process may evolve.

First of all, samity members are more aware of their bargaining power and this has given them more confidence to apply strategic pressure on actors and process which have normally remained beyond their reach. This is exemplified in the case of the samities surrounding Shilmara Beel. The members of these samities are all fishermen who earn a significant part of their annual incomes by fishing on the Beel. In 1997, the local jotedars managed to obtain the lease on the Beel from the Fisheries Department in Dhaka 52 and informed the police that the samities had no longer any right to fish there. Deprived in this way of an important source of income, the samities discussed the situation with staff at Shammo. It was decided that rather than physically confront the jotedars, the samities would approach the local MP (i.e. Rotun Shaheb) and ask him to intervene on their behalf. 300 samity members made the journey to Dhaka to put their case before their MP. Although he was visibly annoyed that 300 samity members had come unannounced to Dhaka and literally put up camp in front of his residence, Rotun Shaheb had little choice but to agree to meet the members. He knew they were Shammo members and he was aware that their support during the June 1996 parliamentary elections had worked very much to his advantage. During the meeting, the samity members argued that they were legally entitled to fish the Beel and that the jotedars instead were acting in an illegal way. This discussion was interspersed with reminders of the work the samity members had done during the elections and occasional 'veiled threats' of how grim a view would be taken 'back home' if the MP allowed the jotedars to make a profit at the expense of the poor. Rotun Shaheb assured the fishermen he would personally look into the matter. A few days later, the lease of the jotedars was cancelled on the basis that it had been acquired illegally in the first place, and the samity members were allowed to fish on the Beel once again. Kayesh sees this as a sign of new mode of mobilising:

At Boro Bagher Beel, we spent years fighting with different groups. Many of us have been in jail and all of us had to abandon our wives and children at some

52 While successive governments have given organised samities rights of access to open water bodies, the policy is often not implemented (see chapter seven, section 3), especially in the case of profitable fishing areas. With the right contacts, the rural elite can therefore have these fishing areas leased to them.

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point. If we can mobilise to achieve certain objectives without having to get involved in physical fights, court cases and so on, then it is better. That is what has happened at Shilmara the samity members now have access to the Beel and noone has been hurt and no money was needed for expensive legal procedures. Most MPs would normally either refuse to see samity members or send them away with empty promises. That sometimes happens to our members too, but now not always. Our MP has to be more careful because he knows that Shammo members are strong and unified. Secondly, members of Shammo not only use their increased bargaining power to access and address higher levels of political and social authority, but they have also begun to engage even more purposefully with local political structures. This is reflected for example in the way Shammo members approached and contested the local union elections. In its pre-election manifesto, the Awami League committed itself to introducing local government reform. On assuming power, it set up a commission to develop a new local government framework. The contribution of the NGO community to the work of this commission was extensive. I arrived in Bangladesh in December of 1996, there was an air of expectancy in the NGO community about the local government reform and NGO leaders spoke to me enthusiastically about the Union Parishad elections. Many hoped that suitable samity candidates would present themselves as candidates and win.

NGO members shared the enthusiasm of their NGO leaders. Local government bodies are powerful institutions in the daily life of poor people in rural Bangladesh. They play a central role in for example implementing government projects (Food for Work Programmes, road constructions, pond digging and so on), recommending applications for trade licences and relief allocations, collecting local taxes, sitting on important shalishes, and generally acting as a link between villagers and other administrative officials, police authorities and political elites. Not surprisingly therefore, local politicians and officials have tended to control these institutions and use them to carry out a wide range of rent-seeking and corrupt practices which have reinforced, rather than addressed, patterns of social, economic and political inequality (Bertocci, 1970, Jansen 1987, Wood 1994). As a result, the poor normally find these institutions intimidating and inaccessible. The enthusiasm with which NGO members talked of the Union Perished elections reflected therefore their belief that greater participation and representation in these structures would help induce greater and a more just access to important resources.

Throughout my time with Shammo, the issue of the local elections was a frequent topic of debate and discussion. The landless members were confident they could do really we(( in the elections and thus create what they would often refer to as 'a perished which would really help

53 Further details of the reform can be found in Khan (1999). The NGO community was very active in the consultation, evaluation and writing of the final report on local government reform which was submitted to and later endorsed by the Government. Besides NG0s, donors such as UNDP, UNCDF, USAID and the World Bank were also interested in local government reform and have been funding various projects aimed at strengthening local government bodies and their representatives.

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the poor'. This confidence was based on the experience of the June 1996 parliamentary elections when Shammo members again realised how effective their solidarity could really be. Their optimism and enthusiasm about the Union Parishad elections proved to be well founded. 52 samity members stood as candidates for the position of Union Parishad members in 17 unions, and of these, 43 were successfully elected. Since the elections took place in December of 1997 after I had left Bangladesh, I have no way of evaluating the experience. However, there is no doubt that there has been a significant shift the socio-political landscape where Shammo works and since NGO representatives are now also included as non-voting members on the local councils, 55 there are definitely new opportunities for promoting pro-poor interests in local government organisations. On one occasion in London, I asked Kayesh about the Union Parishad elections and while he said he was both pleased and encouraged by the results, he knew that the biggest challenge lay in making those elected competent in their work. The shift is obviously by no means complete.

8. CONCLUSION

I have interspersed this chapter with three sections highlighting the embedded (9.1.1), factional (9.3) and evolving (9.7) nature of the NGO-political process' nexus. I argued that the `non political' tag, endeared to by so many development practitioners, donors and academics, sits cumbersomely with the reality of social life in Bangladesh and the role of NGOs therein. First of all, NGOs are embedded institutions and the size and organisation of their members are already politically significant features. Revealingly, most other key political actors expect NGOs to behave politically (9.1.1). Secondly, the NGO community finds itself strategically positioned to influence the political process in Bangladesh (9.3), a position gained partly by the claim that it acts as a legitimate representative of and intermediary for its politically disenfranchised members. The political dimension is part of and not ornamental to the NGO-poor relationship and consequently, client-members will look to their respective patron-organisations to help manage their complex political relationships. Finally however, the politics of intermediation is continually evolving (9.7). To the extent that the NGO-poor relationship is built on trust and generates security, members can pursue their own political choices and build their own political

54 Hassan (1999) dismisses the performance of NGO led mobilisations in local government elections as negligible or insignificant. The basis for this judgement is the low number of successfully returned NGO promoted candidates throughout the country. While I cannot comment on performances of other NGO members, it seems to me that 43 out of 52 candidates is, in its own right, a significant number. Furthermore, the real 'significance' of these elections at least in the area where Shammo works, is not only contained in the actual numbers of successfully returned candidates. 55 The inclusion of representatives from NGOs or other local development agencies on the councils was one of the most innovative and significant recommendations made by the commission established to look into the question of local government reform (Khan 1999). In important ways, it resembles the structure, outlined in the previous chapter, which is responsible for distributing khas resources.

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futures. This is not a contradictory statement. The empirical analysis of the experience of Shammo's members presented in this chapter suggests that autonomous power can be politically constructed through dependence, and 'voice' can be articulated in clientelism. The process is however an iterative one and the net effect of the mutual influence of 'dependence' and 'autonomous power', 'clientelism' and 'voice' is politically contingent and evolving, never fixed and static.

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CONCLUSION

1. INTRODUCTION

Diary - April -1996

Meeting Rani:m today was distressing andsadzthning. 3-le had invitedme to his village on a number of occasions to meet and talk with the members of a group that he thd Like Shammo, this group ccmsistedof kinss farmers andtheir chief concern was how to secure ownership rights over an enormous area of Inas andwhich was situatedto the South of Rahim's village. Although the group hadregisteredthemserves as an .NO, they hadno func& andno significant contacts locally or nationally. Every time I went to visit them, they woull l- always ask me to introduce them to different donors. For my part, I was anxious not to beperceived as a cConor contact and I tried to convince them that I hadneither the contacts nor the influence they thought I had One of the tactics I -would adopt in meetings with Rahim and his frienz& was to tell-them that they didnot needmoney or contacts and that the yrincipth of soCidarity was afar more important and efficient tool-with which to pursue their objectives. The members were usually too kind to publicly disagree with me, but I coullisense they were disappointedthat I could; not respandmare directCy to their request for contacts and; support. One week ago, Rahim together with the other andthss members cthcicthdto take possession of the kizas area by force. The number of ainciss who turned out that day was such that the thcaCjateethrs who hadill-egall- occupied the Czn,c y didnot evenput up a fight andconcecthdthe and to the landless. 3-fcrwever the day after the victory of the Canaress, the samejoteelars began to exact their revenge andre-impose their own authority. Many of the Cancess were physically beaten andtcrrturec4" some of their houses were burnt or destroyed andRahim was shot in the head Luckily he survivedthat attack and after s_pencling a fe-w clays in hospital; he was alrawed to return home. Taday I went to visit Rahirn. 3-re was still- heavily bandaged and in obvious pain. I caulli tell- he was worried andfrightened I Cistened to his account of the
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shooting and askedwhat he intencthd to cfi, about those who had carried aut the attacks. 3-(e toCfme that there was Cittth he could cth since those who were behind the attacks were aCCweCC connectedwith the thcal-police, officia& and administration. Besics, he didnot have the money to initiate court proceedings aiulhe didnot know of anyone in Dhaka who couCd help him. "you always say contacts are not that important" he said to me, "but you are wrong." .And as those present nodcthdin agreement, he continued "if we had the right contacts, thejotezrs-wou&Cnever have attackedus and-we wou&CaCC be farming the Inas aindtocaty. The jotethrs however know that we are a small- organisation with no reaCsupport e&e-where. If we manage to beat them one day, they return the next day andmake us suffer even more. That is how things work here" 'What he says is true...

In the introductory chapter to this thesis, I set myself the task of examining two important development issues. The first of these was to explore the dynamics of social transformation in Bangladesh, an issue which for many years has fascinated as much as it has frustrated scholars and practitioners. The impression I had in taking on such an endeavour was that I was placing myself at the entrance of a rather dense maze fraught with many dead ends and pitfalls. Mindful that the successful negotiation of any maze can only be achieved indirectly, I therefore chose to analyse this first issue of mine by focusing on a second related phenomenon, i.e. the role of development NGOs in Bangladesh. The option to negotiate the maze via the 'NG route' was neither arbitrary nor haphazard, but propitious in that there is increasing evidence, summarised and reviewed in chapter one, that NGOs have fuelled a quasi-paradigmatic shift in development thinking and praxis. NGOs are presented and present themselves as expert change-agents. The option to then focus on the particular 'NG route' found in Bangladesh (as opposed to other countries) was also perspicacious due to the unique position and history of NGOs there (chapter two). In the 'global alms bazaar' (Smillie 1995), the NGO community in Bangladesh remains one of the most important attractions.

It is important in concluding this thesis to try and retrace some of my steps, to retreat back to the entrance of the maze and reflect on the effort that has been made. Rather than summarising sequentially the main points of each chapter, or submitting general policy recommendations about NGOs or their projects, I intend using the conclusion to re-engage in a reflective way on the first theme of this thesis: exploring the dynamics of societal change. I will therefore attempt 256

to tease out those topics and issues which the thesis highlights and which have some relevance and applicability to the more comprehensive task of understanding processes of societal change in Bangladesh, and possibly elsewhere. I would argue that this way of concluding is consistent with the overall objective of the thesis to offer a more reflective and less prescriptive analysis in which the focus falls not on the NGO phenomenon per se, but on the relations between NGOs and their wider contexts.

There are four parts to the remainder of this conclusion and each deals with a particular theme. Although these are treated separately here, the themes are in fact linked. In deciding on which themes to conclude with, I was looking for two basic criteria. First of all, they should be rooted in the analysis developed in the thesis; i.e. based on the experience of the particular NGO (called Shammo) I was observing. Secondly, they should contribute to a more robust understanding of societal change and transformation in Bangladesh, i.e. have wider applicability beyond the NGO phenomenon per se. The four themes I will discuss are a) understanding society and change, b) understanding agency, c) understanding power and d) understanding new discourses and praxis.

2. UNDERSTANDING SOCIETY AND CHANGE

The title of the thesis One Foot in Each Boat is the translation of a proverb in Bengali', the equivalent of which in English would be to have a foot in each camp'. The proverb captures two of the main points of my research. First of all, it conveys my initial interest in researching two separate but linked aspects of NG0s, namely, their micro and macro worlds. It is not necessary to dwell any further on this point since I have already used the introduction and the first part of the thesis to explain the rationale and outline the difficulties of such a research option. The second reason I believe the proverb to be a good title for the thesis is that it reflects a particular insight into understanding society and transformation which gradually assumed central importance in my research. This perspective is influenced by Wood's discussion of the phenomenon of parallel rationalities (Wood 1994, 1999).

The idea of parallel rationalities stands in contrast to a 'rationality clash perspective' which Wood (1994) correctly notes, dominates development thinking and praxis. The rationality clash perspective revolves around the application of a series of ideal type propositions and models to actual social behaviour and patterns. Change in this perspective is construed as bringing about a greater degree of fit (VVood 1994: 522) between the ideal propositions and reality. It is a normative and unilinear understanding of change in that the ideal construct (characterised as better, superior, modem and progressive) is perceived and presented as an advanced or
The actual proverb is duy pa, duy noukay (literally, two feet in two boats). 257

improved configuration of the actual condition (appropriately and conversely deemed stagnant, backward and undeveloped). The ideal construct becomes therefore the archetype or template against which to analyse and diagnose real societies. Furthermore, given the superiority of the ideal construct, it is assumed and expected that actors will abandon or try to overcome their 'actual' conditions to embrace the improved ones.

The notion of parallel rationalities is a more dynamic analytical framework which perceives actors as successively and continually alternating between different worlds, rationalities or social conditions, which are necessarily interlinked and concurrently present. These different worlds are not dysfunctional, but contain their own consistency, logic, rules and obligations. In this perspective then, change is perceived not as the resolution of rationalities clashing and being made to 'fit a particular template', but as the outcome of different rationalities interacting to form a coherent and consistent structure (Wood 1994: 522). In choosing the title One Foot in Each Boat, I wanted to stress the idea that social and human life is essentially about bringing together and making sense of different worlds and parallel rationalities. The analytical challenge posed by the idea of parallel rationalities is therefore to move away from what the rhetoric tells us should exist to focus instead on what reality tells us actually does exist.

The central argument of the thesis is that NGOs are important change-agents in Bangladesh, but that the type of change they induce can only be fully comprehended if we embrace the kind of approach suggested by the parallel rationalities perspective. This point clearly emerges from a cursory overview of the whole thesis. The second part of the thesis attempts to explore how the presence of an NGO like Shammo enables poor people to introduce changes that would be to their greatest advantage. In particular, I looked at the extent to which the presence of Shammo contributed to a reconfiguration of three social domains: local level power structures, policy outcomes and electoral behaviour. In order to situate my inquiries, I used different sources to show in chapter three how control over these three domains was traditionally managed by elite actors in Bangladesh and how this control served to reinforce their own position of strength and power. Thus for the poor, both access to and participation in these domains were typically filtered through a complex set of relations and structures which underpinned a pervasive system of patron-clientelism. Ideally (according to a rationality clash perspective), the platform and framework offered by NGOs would enable their members to escape from this complex web of patron-client relations and take greater control over the direction of their own lives.

The findings offered in the thesis however indicate that what was expected ideally, did not occur in reality. While there are indications that the members of Shammo have either abandoned or at least are not as obliged to their traditional patrons, there is also persuasive evidence that the actual system of patronage has not been entirely removed. Instead, Shammo and its members have come to assume the roles, obligations and commitments traditionally associated with

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patrons and clients respectively. Thus in chapter six I offered an ethnographic account which traced the rise to prominence of Shammo locally. The main argument of this chapter is that Shammo's emergence as a key actor is directly related to its ability to mobilise different coalitions and networks in society. Initially at least, the most important network was the membership base itself and so Shammo's early organisational success was about a very real struggle with other local patrons to win the hearts and minds of potential clients. However, I also showed in the same chapter how the presence of Shammo has facilitated a process in which local patron-client relations are gradually reworked and refashioned. Shammo, and more specifically its leader, is a central actor in a network which extends across local (chapter three), regional and national (chapter two), and even global levels (chapter one). The ability of Shammo's leader to act as a gatekeeper within this network gives him, his organisation, his members and his clients (these last two groups are not always the same for as I argued in chapter six, other NGOs are clients to Shammo but they are not members of Shammo) considerable leverage locally. The network is ideologically committed to weakening the monopolistic hold traditional patrons have over their clients, a task which Shammo (and many other NG0s) is engaged in practically. In this way, clientelistic networks have been reconstructed within the framework or space brokered and offered by Shammo.

In chapters seven and eight, I explore how this new clientelistic network operates and try to compare it with more traditional clientelistic arrangements. Both chapters deal with two areas which are characteristic of and fundamental to patron-client systems, namely, resource allocation and electoral behaviour. In chapter seven, I showed how the presence of Shammo has clearly altered the process through which khas and other resources are distributed and allocated. In this, the poor have been the greatest beneficiaries in that they are not only receiving more khas and other resources, but the whole policy process itself has become more accessible and predictable for them. For this to occur however, I showed how Shammo had to literally seize formal positions of policy significance and strategically hold on to them. Conceptually, I adapted the notion of policy community to explore this whole process. Entry into policy communities is competitive-based with some patrons winning at the expense of others. The prize for those like Shammo who did win however was that they were in a stronger position to influence the structures of policy formulation and implementation. It is at this point that the principle of loyalty gains significance as the story of Roton in chapter seven clearly illustrates. Here it was found that in the allocation of resources, those 'poor' whose qualifications also included being a member of Shammo were advantaged, while those 'poor' who were not Shammo's members were at a disadvantage. In this way, loyalty has the power to structure entitlements.

The focus instead of chapter eight is on how the same principle of loyalty is used to influence electoral processes and outcomes. Again there is evidence to suggest that the members of Shammo used their numbers and unity to engage purposefully with different political processes

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by supporting voter education initiatives, monitoring elections, encouraging women to vote and so on. Members act therefore in a way which suggests that they are 'free' from the obligations placed on them by traditional patrons during political elections. However I also argued in the chapter that the major political decisions and orientations adopted by the members were still brokered or planned by a different intermediary set of actors: the NGO community. Indeed in the case of the 1996 parliamentary elections, the political mobilisation of Shammo members was effectively co-ordinated by key actors of the larger NGO community located mostly in Dhaka. The underlying dynamic which is revealed is one in which NGOs assume the role of negotiating on behalf of their members and clients with other interested parties and actors. In doing so, NGOs expect their members and clients to be loyal. While the experience of Mahfuz indicates that this compliance cannot be taken for granted but has to be continually earned, the case of Anjan, the ex chairman of Shammo, illustrates how non-compliance is ultimately equated with disloyalty and betrayal. Although exit options therefore do exist for members (Mahfuz), if executed (Anjan) they are perceived as a direct threat and a challenge to the authority and overall wellbeing of the organisation. Loyalty therefore has the power to impose obligations and demand compliance.

Thus, while chapter six describes the process whereby Shammo facilitates the emergence of a clientelistic network, chapters seven and eight show how this network sustains itself through complex and continuous processes of giving and taking. Shammo's leader acts as gatekeeper and guardian of this process. From a 'rationality clash perspective', the idea of 'patronage in a new guise' constitutes a dysfunctional, imperfect and stunted institutional form. However the parallel rationalities perspective allows and encourages us to consider the same institutional form as a coherent, consistent and valuable structure, despite the fact that it seems to unify seemingly disparate characteristics. One of the contentions of the thesis is that the process of change catalysed by the intervention of NGOs in Bangladesh typically produces hybrid forms and patterns which offer a blend of what we may define as ideal opposites. While it may be argued (from a rationality clash perspective) that these hybrid forms are subversions of the normative, in this thesis they are taken as expressions of an evolving continuity.

3. UNDERSTANDING AGENCY

Although hybridity entails the permanence in one form or another of socio-political structures, this should not be taken to mean that the potential for and introduction of change and transformation are dismissed. In fact this thesis has been as much about structures evolving as it has been about structures persisting. Hybridity infers indeterminacy and in the context of the discussion of this conclusion, it can be taken to refer to a porous social domain falling between what has 'ceased to be' and what has 'yet to be'. It is precisely in this domain where different

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choices and strategies are made, tested and validated, converting hybridity into a perfect locus operandi of social agency.

The need for a sharper and more defined notion of agency was introduced at the very beginning of the thesis. In the opening chapter, I deliberately distanced my approach from what I perceived as an over essentialised and idealised epistemology dominating NGO research. Relying heavily on organisational theories and modem western thought, this body of research concerns itself with or takes for granted that NGOs have essential characteristics (specified through countless acronyms and typologies), which help distinguish them from other social institutions, especially the state and market. Since they are constituted differently, NGOs are expected to behave and perform differently. This epistemology therefore sanctions a deductive type analysis of NGOs in which the direction of research moves from the models and ideal types to reality itself. The danger inherent in such an approach is that consciously or otherwise, it tends to displace agency onto essences and in so doing, confuses research means with ends. The result is that once again the emphasis of our analysis lies less on what NGOs are like, and more on what the models tell us they should be like.

In this thesis however, NGOs are perceived as creators of as well as the creation of their respective social histories and contexts. This overall proposition draws heavily on themes of agency associated with the work of Anthony Giddens and Norman Long, which were discussed in chapter four. The most important insight of these theories is that social reality is not a completely rigid and static entity, but that it is always impressionable to social action and intervention. While NGOs are therefore caught up in deep-rooted structures lying mostly beyond their control, their very presence enables them to penetrate and engage with the same structures. In this light then, the thesis recounts and analyses the experience of a set of actors who have tried to devise ways of expanding their range of choices within and extending their control over surrounding structures that hitherto entrapped them. By successfully working within and manipulating these surrounding structures, those mobilised through or by Shammo have effectively generated different expressions of novelty and innovation.

There are numerous experiences, situations and relations which have been influenced by this infusion of novelty. Hence members of Shammo now find themselves in a position to defend themselves against the physical and social attacks of their critics and enemies (chapter five), impose themselves more forcibly as a group locally (chapter six), influence local and national policy processes (chapter seven), and determine electoral outcomes both locally and nationally (chapter eight). The process is again iterative and ongoing. In this regard, it is significant that the final observation of the last chapter recounting the election of Shammo's samity members onto local government councils looks already to future and as yet unexplored horizons. In this sense, the history of Shammo is still being made even as I write my 'conclusion'. Rather than enumerate all the instances of novelty and change experienced by and open to Shammo's

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members, it would be perhaps more fruitful to reflect at this stage on the wider conditions that facilitate the kind of agency which promotes this novelty. In other words, what is characteristic of the form of agency crafted around organisations like Shammo. In this regard, two important points are highlighted in the thesis.

First of all, the experience of Shammo highlights the efficacy of solidarity in exercising agency. In chapter three, I outlined how the practical struggle to reduce risks, access services and secure welfare stability in Bangladesh is best observed by giving conceptual space to the importance of social relationships and networks in the lives of the poor. It is in this sense that the condition reflected in the phrase amar keu ney (I have no-one) denotes a degree of powerlessness and vulnerability far more precarious than amar kichu ney (I have nothing). NGOs like Shammo enable poor members to construct a reliable form of social capital that helps them then devise ways of addressing both their short and long term welfare needs. This premise is admittedly neither controversial nor original. And yet it is important in concluding a thesis like this to reiterate the point that one of the key characteristics of NGOs is that they enable the poor to express and channel their solidarity. This is strategically important. In widening their circle of relations, poor people strengthen their resource profiles and consequently give themselves more opportunities to forge sustainable survival strategies. In other words, NGO induced solidarity allows poor people to become less 'poor in people' (White 1992).

Secondly, the experience of Shammo also highlights the need of organisation in exercising agency. Although chapters five to eight deal separately with particular social domains, in actual fact these domains interpenetrate and influence each other significantly. Shammo started as an organisation in order to engage with a very specific, local and micro issue, i.e. to gain access to a particular area of khas land. However today Shammo interacts with and makes its presence felt in a variety of wider and supra local struggles and domains. To be effective agents of change therefore, Shammo is committed to a dual strategy which covers both local and supra local arenas. Success in one area is determined by and reflects success in the other. This proposition has an important contribution to make to the ongoing debate concerning the merits or otherwise of NGOs 'scaling up'. The findings of this thesis illustrate that to operate effectively at the local level, Shammo has to build a favourable and reliable environment at supra local levels. This serves as a cautionary note to those who naively over-celebrate the significance of small, local based initiatives and attack the trend which has allowed NGOs throughout the world to scale up their operations and coverage. While there may be legitimate concerns about the size and dominance of particular NGOs in Bangladesh, there is no questioning the strategic advantage the NGO community has gained by becoming bigger and stronger at different levels in society. The leverage and strength enjoyed nationally by NGOs reduces significantly the risks faced by members engaged in local level struggles. This is one of the main characteristics and advantages of the dientelistic networks fashioned through and by NG05.

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4.

UNDERSTANDING POWER

The proposition that both solidarity and organisation are crucial for the effective exercise of agency reveals much about how power is captured and retained in societies like Bangladesh. In this thesis, I have shown how Shammo has successfully assumed a position of power locally and a position of influence nationally. Relatively speaking, Shammo's experience has been a successful one, even if those associated with the organisation would be the first to admit that they still have much work to do. However Shammo's trajectory does not reflect the vast majority of experiences in Bangladesh and for this reason, I deliberately began this conclusion with the unsuccessful but more typical story of Rahim's group.

While carrying out fieldwork, I would regularly visit Rahim's group because of the striking similarities it shared with Shammo's early history. Like Shammo therefore, it was confronted with an organised group of jotedars who mobilised their forces and contacts in order to protect their vested interest in an area of khas land which they were farming illegally. After an initial period of increasing their membership base, Rahim's group then took another leaf out of Shammo's book and decided that they would physically confront the jotedar group and try to wrestle control of the khas land from their hands. This led to the violent struggle in which Rahim was shot. Although the landless were initially successful in this struggle, their victory was, according to Rahim, a very hollow one in that it was unsustainable in the long run. Conversely, the jotedars' defeat was considered insignificant since they easily re-imposed their authority with vengeance the very next day. While the fortunes of both sets of actors therefore momentarily changed, their final positions came ultimately to reflect their relative positions of power. In Rahim's eyes, what makes his organisation less powerful than the jotedars is that the latter have greater access to influential contacts, resources and networks.

This thesis verifies in full this last statement. Shammo's emergence as an organisation with prominent social leverage is related to the fact that it has managed to mobilise around its struggle a wide constituency, built on but not restricted to its samity members. The bigger and more inclusive the coalition of interests, the greater the opportunities open to Shammo and, by implication, the greater the manoeuvring room for its members. The different 'victories' of Shammo and its members, recounted in chapters five to eight, can only be fully comprehended once the analysis is widened to include key non-member actors. The presence of these nonmembers has been critical to both Shammo's survival and success. For example, the support of donors and certain politicians was crucial for Shammo when it was embroiled in the physical struggle against the local jotedar groups (chapter five). The links Shammo nurtured with the wider NGO community strengthened its credibility and enhanced its work at the local level (chapter six). The fact that Shammo was a member of the national khas-land policy community enabled it to influence policy outcomes locally (chapter seven). And finally, the fact that

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Shammo was perceived as being directly involved in high level political negotiations legitimised and gave leverage to its mobilisation in local electoral issues (chapter eight). In short, the power enjoyed by Shammo and its members is in part due to the fact it has gained the support of and can rely on a wider set of influential social actors or 'friends of friends'.

The above reflection is problematic not least of all because it appears to contradict the claim made by NGOs like Shammo that they help empower the poor by creating an alternative mobilisation force for them based on horizontal as opposed to vertical, autonomous as opposed to co-opted, alliances. What are we to make of this conundrum?

First of all, given our earlier discussion on parallel rationalities, the opposition of autonomous/horizontal and co-opted/vertical power configurations is both confusing and unrealistic in the context of Bangladesh. Indeed it is worth remembering that for those who have to struggle to survive, complete autonomy is akin to a situation of powerlessness not powerfulness, and this is captured perfectly in the phrase amar keu ney (I have no-one). What ultimately distinguished Rahim's group from Shammo is that they were all too often exposed to the dangers of not having a larger power framework within which to nest their local based mobilisation strategies. This would seem to confirm Bourdieu's (1977) argument that to have any power at all, the disenfranchised must make do with dominated power, which is "opposed to official power in that it can operate only by proxy, under the cover of an official authority, as well as to the subversive refusal of the rule-breaker, in that it still selves the authority it uses" (Bourdieu 1977:41).

Bourdieu's idea of dominated power leads us to a second reflection on the conundrum outlined above. All too often, we look for and analyse situations of open conflict to help identify and measure change in power configurations. Our analysis treats power as a zero-sum commodity in which one party loses and another gains. Dominated power on the other hand recognises that actors can work against oppressive structures but from within the same structures (it opposes official power under the cover of an official authority) and that the process whereby the disenfranchised make headway may also strengthen the position of those in authority (it still serves the authority it uses). Here power is conceived in positive sum terms where actors with different interests gain power simultaneously. The power exercised in and through Shammo today depends less on its ability to win conflicts (although this remains important, the case presented in chapter eight of the fishing communities at Shilmara Beet indicates that it is no longer always necessary), and more on the fact that it is in a position to influence and set different policy and political agendas. The ability to deploy such power constitutes the real 'comparative advantage' enjoyed by NGOs like Shammo in Bangladesh today. This however is not an intrinsic or essential comparative advantage, but one which has been strategically fashioned through time (chapter two) and which is continually re-generated through complex webs of coalitions, patrons, 'friends of friends', like-minded groups and so on. To investigate this

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kind of power requires analytical tools with a degree of subtlety, which the crude 'autonomy and co-optation' models fail to offer.

5. UNDERSTANDING NEW DISCOURSES AND PRACTICES

The fact that Bangladesh occupies a central position in the global 'alms bazaar' means that it has to wrestle with a constant flurry of new development ideas, discourses and practices. Whenever a new concept appears in the development lexicon, it does not usually take long before we read of it in some discussion of the NGO community in Bangladesh. The pace with which these new concepts and ideas appear and, in some cases disappear, can be relentless, and many NGOs struggle simply to keep up to date with the latest developments. While carrying out fieldwork, I was often asked by different NGO activists to explain the exact meaning of some of these 'new terms' such as civil society, good governance, empowerment, social exclusion, stakeholders, log frames and so forth. These informal discussions were always a source of fun and laughter, but also frustration for my inability to adequately explain the categories was matched only by our common failure to subsequently identify in reality what was being indicated conceptually.

In this thesis, I have used a set of more general standard concepts from sociology and anthropology such as structure, agency, interests and power, as well as more specific ones such as patronage, clientelism and factionalism. Admittedly, this is a slightly problematic choice for, as I have been reminded on a number of occasions, NGO analysis has 'moved on' from the time when many of these latter concepts were in fashion and has incorporated more modem and appropriate themes and concepts. I would like therefore to end the thesis by explicitly addressing this question, and in some way, justifying my own choice of categories and concepts. My basic contention is that there is stability, efficacy and value in the kind of standard concepts I have used in the thesis and that these qualities contrast with the vacuity of many of the fashionable concepts promoted by modem development lexicons. This should not be taken however as an argument against the development of conceptual tools and thinking per se, but against the unreflective development and uncritical application of the same conceptual tools and thinking. The former is necessary to improve the quality of development interventions, the latter however runs the risk of destabilising development praxis and thinking. In stressing the value of standard concepts, I would like to highlight two separate but related concerns.

First of all, the categories and language I adopted in my research had the distinct advantage of stimulating and sustaining discussions with a spectrum of actors beyond those who have a qualified command of English or informed understanding of development terms. Although people disliked and often objected to any suggestion or utterance of mine that NGOs and their

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members might relate to each other as patrons and clients (albeit in new guises), this never prevented our conversations, discussions and debates from proceeding. On the other hand, I often found that discussions around the 'newer concepts' while admittedly less controversial (and less interesting!), tended to be vague, shallow and restricted to a very small number of participants. I have no doubt that many of the people who collaborated in my research (especially the NGO members themselves, but probably also the researcher) would have been 'lost' if the inquiries had been built around less familiar but more fashionable terms. The excerpt from my diary that introduces chapter four certainly seems to confirm this. It was precisely to avoid the alienation of certain groups of important actors from my research that I decided at a very early stage to pursue what I termed a dialectical (in the sense of dia logos) epistemology. One of the basic commitments implied in this dialectical epistemology was to ensure, whenever possible, that more actors could meaningfully participate in more aspects of the actual research process. This effort is significant in the context of Bangladesh where much NGO and development research evolves around the informed ideas and opinions of a restricted group of well meaning elite actors who claim to 'represent' bigger constituencies. I would therefore argue that there is an analytical value in using conceptual tools that enhance a greater rather than lesser participation of actors in the research process.

A second but related area of concern questions the extent to which an elitist driven as opposed to dialectically informed research agenda risks pushing the core epistemological focus away from reality onto the models themselves. The argument here is straightforward. When the principle of dialogue is maintained and the use of a wider range of research co-participants is encouraged, there is a greater chance that the analysis which evolves will remain rooted in what is actually occurring in reality and not in what should be occurring according to our theories. In this way, history and experience determine whether or not discourses, models and practices have to be made, remade or indeed abandoned, and not vice versa. A wider ownership of research therefore offers certain safeguards against using vacuous concepts and thus slipping unnoticeably into prescriptive and normative analysis.

Marx's famous dictum that people make history, but not in conditions of their own choosing is an appropriate way to recapitulate the above points and insert them in the wider framework of this conclusion and thesis. If the analytical tools we construct to measure social change and the role of NGOs therein, fail to take sufficient account of the conditions in which NGOs operate but which they do not necessarily choose, the ensuing analysis will at best be weak, at worst misguided. The objective of this discussion however is not merely to underline the analytical significance of social context (in its own right a worthy conclusion), but to illustrate how the ability to survive in and manipulate contexts constitutes a fundamental part of the NGO success story in Bangladesh. This success is important for, as this thesis has argued, it offers the poor greater manoeuvring space with which to pursue and invent the kind of changes that would enable them to live their lives in a more secure and less exploited way. For many the fact of

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manipulating rather than overturning social structures may not represent the ideal or even best development ethos. However, the principle of parallel rationalities and the exigency of having to move with one foot in each boat reminds us that what is best can easily become the enemy of what is good.

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APPENDICES, GLOSSARY, ACRONMYS AND BIBLIOGRAPHY

APPENDIX ONE FOCUS GROUP INTERVIEW THEMES

Much of the information for the thesis was generated through focus group discussions. In total I used 8 focus groups: 2 female samities, 2 male samities, one group of landless farmers who were not samity members, one group consisting of local NGO leaders, one group of influential local leaders and finally, one group made up of senior staff from Shammo. Meetings with the focus groups were carried out throughout my fieldwork period and the duration of each meeting varied significantly for each focus group. Before I could finish all the themes, the group of influential local leaders broke up due to internal disagreements and I was therefore forced to discuss the remaining themes with some members of the group on an individual basis. My main research objective was to explore particular themes and the questions presented below served as a checklist to animate discussions of these themes.

1. Introduction

Introductory questions are to help generate information regarding name, sex, age, occupation, land ownership, khas land ownership and samity membership status of those participating in the discussion.

2. Community

What does the term samaj mean to you, and what advantages/disadvantages does it offer? How does being a member of Shammo alter the significance of the samaj for you? What issues does the samaj best solve and which ones does Shammo best resolve? What does the term shalish mean to you? Does being a member of Shammo modify the significance of the shalish for you? Do landless ever preside at a shalish and if yes, is this a good or a bad thing? Do you think that you receive a fairer bicar since Shammo started? Has the basis of local (village) leadership changed since Shammo started, if so, how? (note if women have entered into the leadership scenario).

Has Shammo helped women attain more independence or autonomy (illustrate with examples of samity meetings, credit access, employment)? If so, do you agree with this effort?

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3. Politics

Has the presence of Shammo changed your attitudes towards the major political parties; if so, how? And have the political leaders changed their attitude to Shammo members over the years; if so, how?

Do you participate more or differently in national and local level politics (e.g. membership, attendance at meetings, campaigning or canvassing) since becoming a member of Shammo?

Do you seek the advise of other people in making political/electoral decisions; if so, who? Is it important for the poor to vote together, why? What difference would a landless chairperson (thane chairperson) make? Does Shammo have real local political leverage and if so, is this important? Does Shammo need the support of others who are not members of the samities; if so, why? What have been the main 'political' actions or statements made or supported by Shammo? (Try first to classify the types of interventions, e.g. if/when Shammo itself constitutes a political force, if/when it lends support to other's interests, if/when it supports in a more open-ended and unguided way wider participation in the political process. Then try to examine what people think of these different types of intervention).

4. Shammo and Poverty

Why do you think poor people are poor? (use the resource profile in this discussion). What are the three most important conditions to overcome poverty? To what extent does Shammo engage with or respond to the dimensions identified above? Shammo has been successful in recuperating khas land. What other development areas should it concentrate on (prioritise)?

Shammo claims to work for the poor. Do you think they treat all the poor in the same way or do they favour certain villages, groups or individuals? If they do favour certain 'poor people', why do they do this? Is this a correct and good practice?

If Shammo cannot help all the poor or cannot address all the dimensions of poverty, is it a good idea to invite other NGOs to work in the area? What are the advantages and disadvantages of having other NGOs working in the area?

Do you think that being a member of Shammo has affected how richer people now deal with you; if so, how?

Do you think that being a member of Shammo has affected how you deal with other members of your village, community and family? If so, how?

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Do you think that women members of Shammo are treated differently (more fairly) by other members of the village/ community?

5. Shammo The Organisation

If Shammo (the office) closed down, would the samities continue? In terms of the work of Shammo, are there different competencies for staff and members? If yes, what are these?

Who owns Shammo? Why do think Kayesh spends so much time in Dhaka? Does Shammo maintain relations with a) other bigger and smaller NG05, b) local influentials, and c) national level politicians and bureaucrats?

If yes, a) are these relations useful or important and why? and b) who actually nurtures the relationships (i.e. staff, samity members, or a combination of both)?

Shammo has more funds than its neighbouring local NG05. If extra funds existed, should these be directed to Shammo or to these other NG05. Why?

Do you think NGOs are jealous of each other, is so explain why?

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APPENDIX TWO - AN INQUIRY INTO NGO ELECTORAL STRATEGIES

After one of the landless members of Shammo suggested I ask non-members about Shammo's electoral mobilisations (see chapter eight, section 5), I decided to extend the enquiry and look at the more common claims made for or by the NGO community in relation to the 1996 parliamentary elections. I identified the following four claims:

a) NGOs were responsible for the high voter turn out, b) The NGO message encouraged people to vote according to their own will and this signaled a shift from traditional voting practices structured by patron-client relationships, c) NGOs played a significant role in encouraging rural poor women to vote,

d) The high turn out of the poor in general and women in particular influenced the political fortunes of the main political parties, with Awami League benefiting most and Jamate Islami least.

I was not interested in generating statistical evidence about these claims, but in gathering ethnographic information about how ordinary people perceived and 'made sense of the 'NGOpolitical election' nexus. In choosing to approach the question in this particular way, I assumed that people's perceptions constituted valuable, reliable and 'hard' evidence. Rather than administer a questionnaire format to respondents, I therefore decided to simply raise themes and issues in more extended discussions with respondents. To facilitate these discussions and retain a certain consistency in my work, I made use of a checklist of questions I wanted to cover. Questions were open ended and the duration of each discussion varied considerably.

In the subsequent analysis of the information generated in these discussions, I grouped similar responses together. It was useful for me to classify the responses in this way since it gave me a broad overview of different opinions and interpretations against which I could further analyse and explore the particular experience of Shammo and its samity members.

The discussions were carried out in three different unions of the thana where I was carrying out my fieldwork. I chose these unions because I knew that in each of them a different NGO was working and as far as I could tell, the three NGOs did not overlap. This enabled me to explore and compare different NGO contexts. Quotas were then used to identify suitable respondents. From each union, I approached 40 respondents: 10 male NGO members, 10 female NGO members, 10 male nonmembers and 10 female non-members (a total of 120 interviews). There were some difficulties with this procedure in that a) it was not always easy to find areas where certain NGOs have male members groups and b) in general, female members were more reluctant to be interviewed. I asked

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the respective NGOs to help me identify appropriate villages. I explained the nature of my research to all the respondents before proceeding with the interviews.

The tables below present the classified responses to the questions most pertinent to the thesis. I also include before each table the checklist used in the interviews.

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 Question One Background of Respondents

To generate background information on those being interviewed.

Q.1

NGO MEMBER Male Female 30 30

NON NGO MEMBER Male Female 30 30

Total 120

1. SEX 2. AGE (in vears1 15-20 21-30 31-40 41-50 51-60 60+ Total 3. EDUCATION No schooling Primary Incomplete Primary Complete Secondary College Total
4. OCCUPATION OF HOUSEHOLD

o
6 9 6 8 1 30

o
10 13 5 2 0 30

o
8 9 8 5 0 30

1
8 9 8 3 1 30

1
32 40 27 18 2 120

15 13 2 0

o
30

18 12 0 0 0 30

6 12 7 3 2 30

16 9 3 1 1 30

55 46 12 4 3 120

HEAD Agricultural labourer (less than 3 bighas) Farmer (3 bighas or more) Farmer plus small business Business Service Self employed Total 5. AMOUNT OF LAND OWNED 0-3 bigha 4-10 bigha 11-20 bigha 21-30 bigha Total 6. NGO MEMBERSHIP 0-3 years 4-9 years 10+ years Total

11 8 7 2 0 2 30

15 6 4 0 1 4 30

2 9 6 2 7 4 30

7 8 5 2 4 4 30

35 31 22 6 12 14 120

15 10 5 0 30

19 7 4 0 30

12 8 8 4 30

14

e
4 6 30

60 31 19 10 120

7 12 11 30

4 14 12 30

N/A N/A N/A N/A

N/A N/A N/A N/A

11 26 23 60

274

Question Two Voting Behaviour

The objective of this discussion is to explore electoral behaviour and patterns. How did respondents vote in the 1991, 15 February 1996 and 12 June 1996 parliamentary elections? Are there changes in the voting patterns of 1991 and 12 June 1996? What reasons are given for these changes? Do NGOs figure in the reasons?

Q.2

NGO MEMBER Male (30) Female 30)

NON NGO MEMBER Male (30) Female (30) Total (120)

1. Did vou vote in the 1991 parliamentary elections? Yes No Cannot remember Total 1-a: Reasons given for not voting Not on voting list Not interested Not at home Never voted Husband told me not to vote 1 0 0 0 0 6 3 0 0 4 0 0 2 0 0 4 2 0 5 5 11 5 2 5 9 26 4 0 30 17 10 3 30 24 6 0 30 14 12 4 30 81 32 7 120

2. Did you vote in 15 February 1996 parliamentary elections? Yes No Total 2-a: Reasons given for not voting Elections were illegal No one went to vote Centre was closed Not in area Frightened NGO advised me not to vote 10 12 3 2 0 2 8 7 2 0 7 4 15 11 3 2 5 0 5 7 4 2 10 0 38 37 12 6 22 6 4 26 30 2 28 30 5 25 30 2 28 30 13 107 120

275

Q.2

NGO MEMBER Male (30) Female 30)

NON NGO MEMBER Male (30) Female (30) Total (120)

3. Did you vote in 12 June 1996 parliamentary elections? Yes No Total 3-a: Reasons given for not voting Not in area Did not want to vote Husband / family asked me not to 1 1 0 0 1 3 1 1 0 2 1 4 4 4 7 28 2 30 26 4 30 28 2 30 23 7 30 105 15 120

4. Res pondents voting differently in 12 June 1996 from 1991 4-a: Reasons given for change NGO related reasons Liked party and / or candidate Followed candidate who switched parties Family influence Own will Change of political outlook

13

11

39

6 4 2 2 6 0

6 0 0 4 4 0

0 5 0 4 7 2

0 0 2 6 3 0

12 9 4 16 20 2

276

Question Three

Influences on Voting Decisions

Who do people turn to when deciding electoral choices? (ask for the two most important sources).

Q.3

NGO MEMBER Female Male (30) (30)

NON NGO MEMBER Male Female (30) (30)

Total (120)

1. First Response

Personal choice
Samajprodhan Party tradition Immediate family Samity/ NGO No answer Total 2. Second Response Personal choice Samajprodhan Party tradition Immediate family Samity/ NGO No answer Total

8 4 6 4 6 2 30

5 1 1 12 7 4 30

10 5 6 7 0 2 30

3 3 2 15 0 7 30

26 13 15 38 13 15 120

5 4 6 5 4 6 30

5 6 2 7 2 8 30

7 4 6 6 0 7 30

3 9 0 7 1 10 30

20 23 14 25 7 31 120

Question Four

What do people understand with the term 'democracy'?

Defining Democracy

Q.4

NGO MEMBER Male Female (30) (30)

NON NGO MEMBER Female Male (30) (30)

Total (120)

What does 'democracy' mean?

Equality/free speech
Free government elected by people Personal choices respected Voter fights respected Do not know Never heard of it No answer

0 9 7 10 5 4 1

2 6 4 5 12 6 1

3 4 10 5 4 3 4

0 2 1 4 12 16 2

5 21 22 24 33 29 8 277

Question Five

Political Awareness

Here I want to gauge the level of general political knowledge and awareness of the respondents.

Q.5

NGO MEMBER Female Male (30) (30)

NON NGO MEMBER Female Male (30) (30)

Total (120)

1. What is the name and party of the MP elected in 1991 for your area? Correct Incorrect Do not know Total 2. What is the name of your current Chairman and what party does he belon to? Correct Incorrect Do not know Total 3. What is the name and party of your current MP? Correct Incorrect Do not know Total 4. What is the names of the past Presidents or Prime Ministers of Bangladesh?' Correct Incorrect Do not know Total 25 5 0 30 10 20 0 30 26 4 0 30 9 21 0 30 70 50 0 120 28 2 0 30 24 4 2 30 27 3 0 30 18 7 5 30 97 16 7 120 28 2 0 30 22 5 3 30 25 3 2 30 14 5 11 30 89 15 16 120 27 1 2 30 16 6 8 30 24 4 2 30 11 7 12 30 78 18 24 120

1 I considered an answer correct if it contained at least the following names: Mujib, General Zia, President Ershad, Khaleda Zia and Sheik Hasina. 278

Q.5

NGO MEMBER Male Female (30) (30)

NON NGO MEMBER Male Female (30) (30)

Total (120)

5. How old do women have to be to vote? Correct Incorrect Do not know Total 6. How old do men have to be to vote? Correct Incorrect Do not know Total 7. Capable of responding to both numbers % and 6 above Correct Incorrect Total 7 23 30 2 28 30 8 22 30 4 26 30 21 99 120 11 12 7 30 16 11 3 30 10 14 6 30 7 16 7 30 44 53 23 120 14 11 5 30 5 16 9 30 16 11 3 30 6 21 3 30 41 59 20 120

279

Question Six

NGOs and Elections

Do people believe NGOs were active in the 12 June 1996 parliamentary elections? How were they active? Did NGOs canvass for or side with a particular party?

Q.6

NGO MEMBER Male Female (30) (30)

NON NGO MEMBER Female Male (30) (30)

Total (120)

1. Were NGOs actively Involved in 12 June parliamentary elections? No Yes Do not know Total 2.What kind of messa ge did NGOs offer? Vote according to own will Discussion on candidates Vote together Voting rules and procedures Voting is a human right Vote for worthy candidate Explained party policy differences Do not succumb to force or bribes Participate in elections Organised meetings and campaigns (posters and so on) 11 7 12 3 7 9 1 8 0 0 3 4 13 9 2 4 0 8 9 7 3 7 6 0 0 0 0 3 6 3 1 3 2 3 0 0 0 0 0 6 18 21 33 15 9 13 1 19 15 16 9 18 3 30 7 16 7 30 6 18 6 30 10 10 10 30 32 62 26 120

3. Did NGOs canvass for a Particular party? No Do not know Yes, for Awami League Yes, for another party Total 10 3 17 0 30 12 8 10 0 30 7 7 14 2 30 9 15 5 1 30 38 33 46 3 120

280

Q.6

NGO MEMBER Male Female (30) (30)

NON NGO MEMBER Female Male (30) (30)

Total (120)

4. If yes. wh y do you think they did that? Candidate is local, known to NGO Party is pro independence Party is pro development Party is pro poor Candidate or party gives material benefits (khas, roads...) Party is pro women NGOs have always been pro Awami League Do not know 7 6 9 10 8 0 2 0 5 2 7 6 7 2 0 0 6 1 2 5 0 0 5 4 0 0 0 0 2 0 0 4 18 9 18 21 17 2 7 8

Question Seven

Explaining Jamat's Performance

How do people explain Jamat's performance at the ballot box? Do they believe the high turn out of women contributed to Jamat's poor performance?

Q.7

NGO MEMBER Male Female (30) (30)

NON NGO MEMBER Female Male (30) (30)

Total (120)

1. Why do you think Jamat lost? Do not know It relies on electoral violence It did not do any work It is anti independence BNP withdrew their support It is a weak party with organisational difficulties It misuses religion It is unpopular and corrupt More women voted NGOs It has no finances Its candidate was no good 5 2 8 4 6 7 5 5 2 3 1 0 7 1 7 4 2 5 4 4 5 5 0 4 1 3 11 1 11 8 1 2 4 1 2 5 7 5 8 1 2 5 1 5 3 3 3 3 20 11
34

10 21 25 11 16 14 12 6 12

281

Q.7

NGO MEMBER Female Male (30) (30)

NON NGO MEMBER Female Male (30) (30)

Total (120)

2. Did NGOs say anything against Jamat? Do not know No Yes Total 2-a: If yes, what did they say? It is anti liberation Do not vote for them NGOs fear for their future Jamat is a political enemy Jamat is against women's development 2 0 0 0 0 1 3 0 0 0 0 0 2 4 4 1 0 0 0 0 4 3 2 4 4 0 28 2 30 0 26 4 30 3 21 6 30 4 25 1 30 7 100 13 120

3. Did women in particular vote against Jamat? Do not know No Yes Total 3-a: If no, what is the reason? Women listen to their husband or samaj Men dislike Jamat too There was fierce political competition for votes 11 2 3 6 1 1 5 0 4 6 1 1 28 4 9 3 16 11 30 3 8 19 30 10 12 8 30 10 9 11 30 26 45 49 120

3-6: If yes, what is the reason? Women were more oppressed by Jamat at Independence Jamat is against women's mobility Jamat is against women's education Jamat is against samities Jamat is against equal rights Jamat is against women working Jamat misuses religion (purdah imposition) Jamat did nothing for women 3 6 2 4 1 1 0 0 3 14 5 14 0 4 4 0 1 5 1 2 4 2 0 0 0 5 3 0 0 3 3 6 7 30 11 20 5 10 7 6

282

Question Eight

How do people explain the high turn out of women?

Explaining Women's Participation

Q.8

NGO MEMBER Male Female (30) (30)

NON NGO MEMBER Male Female (30) (30)

Total (120)

1. Why do you think women turned out in such large numbers to vote? NGO efforts Political party efforts Permission of husband or samaj Peaceful and fair atmosphere Increased awareness/education Greater general stress on equality Main leaders are women Women would get more benefits if they voted Unity of women Statement not true Do not know 13 11 7 7 4 3 2 2 0 2 0 15 9 4 2 5 2 5 5 3 14 3 8 13 7 7 9 2 3 0 0 8 0 5 5 9 9 6 1 6 0 3 4 3 41 38 27 25
24

8 16 7 6 28 6

283

Question Nine

NGOs and Future Electoral Strategies

Do people believe that NGOs have a legitimate role to play in elections? Do they believe that their activity made any electoral difference at all? How do they perceive the members-NGO relation in electoral matters? Are members obliged to listen to NGOs? If so, why?

Q.9

NGO MEMBER Male Female (30) (30)

I NON NGO MEMBER Male Female (30) (30)

Total (120)

1. Should NGOs get more involved in MP or UP elections?

No Do not know Yes Total 1-a: if no, why? Politics is factional They should stick to development Jeopardise their neutrality

5 6 19 30

3 16 11 30

10 9 11 30

6 10 14 30

24 41 55 120

5 2
0

2 1 0

6 3 4

4 2 0

17 8 4

1-6: If yes, why? Politics is part of development They can make system healthy Poor need explanation and help NGOs benefit the poor Needed especially in local elections /fit maintains the unity of the poor If it is legal It is only way of ensuring rights

9 3 8
7

8 2 2 4

5 4 9 8 7 2 0 3

2 1 3 6 4 0 2 0

2 4 3 8 3 0 0 0

18 12 23 29 22 4 4 7

284

Q.9

NGO MEMBER Female Male (30) (30)

NON NGO MEMBER Female Male (30) (30)

Total (120)

2. Would members listen to their NGOs' advice for MP elections?

No Do not know Yes Total 2-a: if no, why?

6 3 21 30

8 3 19 30

9 7 14 30

5 9 16 30

28 22 70 120

Vote is personal We are not tied politically to NGOs Husband or samaj pressure is stronger Party affiliations stronger It will cause problems later

3 4 1 0 0

4 3 7 1 0

4 0 8 3 2

2 0 5 0 5

13 7 21 4 7

2-h: If yes, why?

Especially in local based issues If candidate is appropriate We trust NGOs (relationship) If things are explained properly If it does not contravene family! samaj choices If benefits increase NGOs help the poor who must then respond

10 3 16 8 4 1 4

6 2 15 9 4 5 6

8 0 0 0 3 6 16

5 3 0 0 4 7 12

29 8 31 17 15 19 38

285

Q9

NGO MEMBER Male Female (30) (30)

NON NGO MEMBER Male Female (30) (30)

Total (120)

3. Have NGOs become a new political force in the country? No Do not know Yes Potentially yes Total 4. Do NGOs make a difference to voting results? No Do not know Yes Total 4-a: If no, why? No unity among them Too small in number They only deal with poor who have no influence Votes are a matter of samaj / family NGOs only deal with women 1 2 1 4 0 0 0 0 3 0 3 3 2 7 0 0 1 0 2 2 4 6 3 16 2 5 6 19 30 3 9 18 30 9 6 15 30 4 13 13 30 21 34 65 120 6 4 12 8 30 5 9 10 6 30 7 6 11 6 30 7 10 9 4 30 25 29 42 24 120

4-b: If yes, why? If groups are unified If they can convince the poor Especially in local issues Organisational capacity (money, people...) Only if contenders are equally balanced Only if they have outside alliances 6 5 9 8 2 8 14 4 5 7 0 1 9 5 4 9 5 9 5 6 3 10 0 0 34 20 21 34 7 18

286

ESSENTIAL GLOSSARY

Amir Bhai Bad Bazaar Bee! Bicar Bigha Chula Daroga Do! Dumam Eid Fatwa Gherao Ghor Gram Gust! Hartal Hat Jajmani Jotedar Khana Khas Khatian Koti Lac

Thana level leader of the Jamate Islami political party Brother House or homestead Market Low lying area of land, normally a dried up river bed Community judgement Measurement of land, normally about 0.33 acres Oven or household Inspector, sub-inspector or assistant sub-inspector of police Group or faction Bad name or reputation Annual Muslim religious festival Religious decree issued by Muslim leader Form of protest by picketing House Village Patrilineal kin group A strike Market place Caste-based system of patron-client exchange Petty landlord Eating group or household Government owned land A book or record of charts Ten million One hundred thousand

287

Lathial Mastan Matbar/Matobboti Meta Michil Moulana Mouza Namaj Natok Paisa Para Parishad Rakkhi Bahini Raiyat Rajakar Rokkhok Samity Sardar Shaheb Shalish Shongshar Samaj Samajprodhan Tadbir

Person armed with a stick (lath Muscle man Village or faction leader Carnival Procession Islamic teacher or scholar Lowest territorial revenue unit Formal prayers which Muslims recite five times daily Theatrical play There are 100 paisa in one taka Neighbourhood cluster within a village Council Para-military force raised by Awami League in early 1970s Permanent occupancy tenant (pre 1950) Para military force organised by the Pakistan army in 1971 Assistant to Amir Society or organised group Leader Literally 'mister'. Often used as honorific appellation. Arbitration process presided by village elders Family Society/community/village association Leader of a samaj Muslim concept underlining the creative human potentialities bestowed by Allah Lowest level revenue functionary Muslim concept underlining the predestined limits bestowed by Allah Exchange rate during fieldwork was UK 1 :Bangladesh taka 72 288

Tahsildar Takdir

Taka

Trinamul Janasangathan Thana Uthan Upazila Zamindar

Grassroots People's Organisation. Administrative area, sub-district of Upazila Household courtyard Sub-district Superior landlord and/or revenue collector (pre 1950)

289

ACRONYMS

ADAB ADC (Revenue) ANGOC

Association of Development Agencies in Bangladesh Additional Deputy Commissioner (Revenue) Asian Non-Governmental Organisations Coalition for Agrarian Reform and Rural Development Association of Peasants in Central America Voluntary Associations for Rural Development Bangladesh Mukto Nirbachan AndoIon Bangladesh Academy for Rural Development Bangladesh Rural Development Board Community Based Organisations Caucus of Development NGO Networks District Commissioner District Land Reforms Implementation Task Force Department of Social Welfare External Relations Division Federation of Bangladesh Chambers of Commerce and Industry Fair Election Monitoring Alliance Governmental Non-Government Organisations Grassroots Support Organisations Institute for Development Policy Analysis and Advocacy Integrated Rural Development Programme Krisi Samabaya San* Land Reform Cell Multidisciplinary Action Resource Centre NGO Co-ordinating Council for Land Reform Programme National Land Reforms Council Phantom Non Government Organisations 290

ASOCORE AVARD BAMNA BARD BRDB CB0 CODE-NGO DC DLRITF DSW ERD FBCCI FEMA GONGO GS0 IDPAA IRDP KSS LRC MARC NCCLRP NLRFC PHANGO

PO PSC RWP STW TCCA ULRC VO

People's Organisations Public Service Contractors Rural Works Programme Shallow tubewell Thana Central Co-operative Associations Upazila Land Reforms Committee Voluntary Organisations

291

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