

Promoting Democracy for Creating a Better and Peaceful World: Regional, National and Local Perspectives

Copyright

Promoting Democracy for Creating a Better and Peaceful World:

Regional, National and Local Perspectives

Published by Global Policy Journal and Observer Research Foundation at Smashwords

Copyright 2015 Global Policy Journal and Observer Research Foundation

Authors: Rumi Aijaz, Rohit Kumar Nepali, Jörg Schultz, Zoya Hasan, Pradeep Peiris, Saurabh Johri, Solava Ibrahim, Korel Göymen, Katrin Lompscher, Nitin Pai, Sneha Shankar, R. Swaminathan

Global Policy is jointly owned by John Wiley & Sons, Ltd (Company no. 641132), whose registered office and principal place of business is at The Atrium, Southern Gate, Chichester, West Sussex, PO19 8SQ, UK and The University of Durham (established under Royal Charter with Company Number RC000650) whose registered address is The Palatine Centre, Stockton Road, Durham, DH1 3LE (together "the Owners"). Wiley-Blackwell is a trading name of John Wiley & Sons, Ltd.

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**Contents**

Author Profiles

1. Editorial Introduction

Rumi Aijaz

2. Indigenisation of Democracy in South Asia

Rohit Kumar Nepali

3. New Democratic Patterns in West Asia and the Middle East: Perceptions and Challenges for the Left

Jörg Schultz

4. Democracy and Rising Inequalities in India

Zoya Hasan

5. Space for Federalism: Perspectives from Sri Lanka

Pradeep Peiris

6. What Works is What Matters! An Investigation into Successful Practices of Panchayati Raj Institutions in India

Saurabh Johri

7. The 3C-Model of Grassroots-led Development: Challenges and Prospects of Grassroots Democracy in Rural Egypt

Solava Ibrahim

8. Select Participatory Mechanisms in Turkey: The Urban Context

Korel Göymen

9. Local Politics, Democracy and Participation in Berlin

Katrin Lompscher

10. Networked Societies and Hierarchical States: The Emerging Challenge to Political Order

Nitin Pai and Sneha Shankar

11. Politics of Digitally Mediated Spaces: The Scripted Logic of Inclusion and Exclusion

R. Swaminathan

Endnotes and References

About

**Author Profiles**

Jörg Schultz completed a diploma in Arabian and English Studies from Leipzig University. He also holds a diploma in Business Management and European Law. He worked as a specialist for international development programmes and solidarity campaigns with liberation movements in the Council of Ministers of the former GDR until 1990. During the 1990s he worked with different business companies, specialising in international development cooperation programmes. He is responsible for project negotiations with international donor agencies including the World Bank and the European Union. He joined RLS in 1999 and was involved in setting up the International Relations Department. He developed the first RLS projects in Africa, Latin America and Asia. He was the Deputy Head of RLS Foreign Relations Department, with special responsibility for projects in Sub-Saharan Africa and Southern Asia. He is now responsible for the Near and Middle East Department in the Center for International Development and Cooperation.

Katrin Lompscher studied at the University of Weimar and is an engineer by profession. From 1986 to 1991 she was a researcher at the Institute of Urban Planning and Architecture of the Builders Academy of the GDR, and from 1992 to 1996 project leader at the Institute for Regional Development and Structural Planning in Berlin. Following a post as district magistrate for urban development in Berlin-Lichtenberg, she was senator for health, environment and consumer protection in Berlin from 2006-2011. Since 2011, she is a member of the Berlin Assembly. Since 2012, she also coordinates the working group urban planning of DIE LINKE and is a member of the Berlin executive committee of DIE LINKE.

Korel Göymen is presently professor of political science and public administration at Sabanci University in Istanbul, and also sits on the Executive Board of Istanbul Policy Center, a research body closely associated with the said university. He has also taught at Middle East and Bilkent Universities in Ankara for several years and was visiting professor at Birmingham University in the 1999-2000 academic year. Dr. Göymen also served as Deputy Mayor of Ankara (1977-1980) and Under-Secretary of the Ministry of Tourism (1992-1994), as well as sitting on the boards of several institutions of civil society. His teaching, writing and research activities are concentrated on issues of local/regional/metropolitan and NGO governance and he acts as resource person, project leader and/or advisor to a number of Turkish municipalities and international bodies such as OECD, UNDP, World Bank Institute, the Mediterranean Development Forum and Eurocities. Dr. Göymen has received a number of awards, including the OECD scholarship for doctoral work at Leeds University; World Bank grant to act as advisor to the Government of Pakistan on administrative reform; United States government grant under 'special guest' status; Friedrich Ebert Stiftung grant to act as advisor on local government; "Top Bureaucrat of the Year in Turkey (1994)" national award; and "Top NGO Executive of the Year (1989)" national award. Dr. Göymen has recently contributed to the local government section of a report containing proposals for the new constitution in the making and chaired a national committee on "Livable Cities and Urban Transformation." The report which has been submitted to the Development Ministry will be annexed to the 10th Five-Year Plan (2014-2018).

Nitin Pai is co-founder and director of the Takshashila Institution, an independent networked public policy think tank, and editor of Pragati – The Indian National Interest Review, a well-regarded publication on strategic affairs, public policy and governance. He is a columnist with Business Standard and his articles have been published in a number of national and international publications. He has been a guest lecturer at India's Army War College, College of Defence Management, National University of Singapore and Brunei's Institute of Defence and Strategic Studies. Prior to setting up Takshashila, Mr. Pai spent more than a decade with the Singapore government shaping its media and communication strategies in the age of the internet and social media. He was closely involved in Singapore's national broadband initiatives and liberalisation of the telecom sector. He also set up and headed the strategic foresight team for two years. Mr. Pai was a gold medallist at Singapore's Lee Kuan Yew School of Public Policy from where he obtained a Master in Public Administration (MPA) degree. He was a Singapore Airlines-Neptune Orient Lines undergraduate scholar at Nanyang Technological University, Singapore and is an alumnus of National College, Bangalore. He relocated to India in August 2012 to commit his energy to the Takshashila project.

Pradeep Peiris is currently reading for his Ph.D. in Political Science at the University of Colombo. Mr. Peiris is the treasurer and a member of the council of the Social Scientists' Association (SSA), Colombo, Sri Lanka. He is also a steering committee member and the Sri Lankan coordinator of the Democracy Barometre Survey in South Asia, spearheaded by the Centre for the Study of Developing Societies (CSDS), Delhi, India. Mr. Peiris has published widely on subjects ranging from conflict resolution, democracy, governance and gender.

R. Swaminathan is a Visiting Fellow at the Observer Research Foundation, Mumbai. He is a Doctor of Philosophy (Ph.D.) in Political Science from Jawaharlal Nehru University and a post graduate from the prestigious Indian Institute of Mass Communication (IIMC), Delhi. He is a recipient of University Grants Commission Research Fellowship and a winner of the South Asian Journalists Association (SAJA) award. Dr. Swaminathan started his career in 1997 with The National Herald. He then moved to The Indian Express, New Delhi, before joining Tata McGraw Hill as a Junior Sponsoring Editor, where he was responsible for College: Management and Sciences division. He has five books to his credit: Gujarat: Perspectives of the Future (Academic Foundation), Small Hands, Big Deeds: New Forms of Labour Mobilisation (Samskriti), Mumbai Vision 2015: Agenda for Urban Renewal (Macmillan), Healthcare Issues in Large Federal Countries (Forum of Federations) and Free Power to Farmers: Policy Implications for Maharashtra (ORF). Dr. Swaminathan has also been a regular columnist for rediff.com and his articles have appeared in several leading newspapers and journals.

Rohit Kumar Nepali is the Executive Director of South Asia Partnership International. Previously, he was Executive Director of the South Asia Partnership, Nepal. He has worked with many organisations, government/non-government, and universities in various capacities, including: the Woodland Mountain Institute (USA); the Central Panchayat Training Institute (CPTI), Tribhuvan University Kirtipur; the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London; UNICEF, Kathmandu; and ERA (Educational Reform Associates), Kathmandu. He is also involved as a consultant in various projects to strengthen democracy and human development both in Nepal and internationally. His major publications include: Engendering Democratic Governance in South Asia, 2011, Democracies in South Asia, International IDEA, 2009, and A Study of Nepal's Constituent Assembly Election: The Influence of Civil Society and the Multilateral System, FIM Forum Delhi, 2009. He holds a Ph. D. in Anthropology from Tribhuvan University and an M.A. in Cultural Anthropology from Bombay University.

Rumi Aijaz is Senior Fellow at the Observer Research Foundation in New Delhi, India. His educational qualifications include a Master's in Geography (Jawaharlal Nehru University, 1992) and Regional Planning (School of Planning and Architecture, 1994), and Ph.D. in Urban Governance (School of Planning and Architecture, 2004). He has been a post-doctoral visiting fellow at the Asia Research Centre, London School of Economics and Political Science (2006). He is also an associate member of the Institute of Town Planners, India. He has worked with the non-government organisation 'Sanket' (1994-95), and the National Institute of Urban Affairs (1996-99 & 2004-05). He has also undertaken a study on gender for the Royal Netherlands Embassy (1996-97). During his education and professional career, he has been involved in numerous studies covering a range of social science topics such as urbanisation, transportation, socio-economic and human development, ecology and physical environment, women empowerment, and public health. His writings and views on different topics have found place in leading world journals and in media. He has to his credit one book, three edited books and 15 research articles.

Saurabh Johri is an alumnus of IIM Ahmedabad and is an expert in Public and Social Sector Strategy and Management. He has over 12 years of sector exposure through work at Mckinsey, PwC and NGOs like APF and Pratham. Saurabh began his career by implementing large scale education programs at Pratham (1999-2004) followed by Azim Premji Foundation (2004-2007). During this period he gained considerable expertise in operations, community mobilisation and worked closely with government at municipal, state and national levels. He was nominated in many government committees in planning education programs and invited as a resource person in multiple training programs of the government. In 2004, Saurabh was invited to co-author the education chapter of Delhi. After completing his post-graduation in Public Management and Policy at IIM Ahmedabad, Saurabh worked with PwC and Mckinsey, consulting in the domains of public education, healthcare, rural development and public finance. He led consulting teams in PPP transactions, monitoring and evaluation studies, feasibility studies, financial modelling, institutional development and transformation studies. He also served the Joint Review Mission for Sarva Shiksha Abhiyan as a World Bank representative. Saurabh holds post graduate degrees from Center for Management Education, AIMA, Delhi and Indian Institute of Management, Ahmedabad. Saurabh has received special trainings at Heinz School of Public Policy, Carnegie Mellon University (USA) and University of Twente, The Netherlands. As a Program Advisor to ORF, Saurabh leads research in the areas of governance, public policy and economic reforms. He is currently authoring and co-authoring position papers on reforms in Uttar Pradesh, sectoral reforms in education, skill development and rural development in India. He has authored a book on Governance Reforms in Uttar Pradesh which was launched in November 2011. He is also a guest columnist in national newspapers and regularly appears on television channels.

Solava Ibrahim is a lecturer in international development at the Institute for Development Policy and Management at the University of Manchester and an affiliated lecturer at the Centre of Development Studies at the University of Cambridge. She worked as a Research Fellow in Global Poverty Reduction at the Brooks World Poverty Institute at the University of Manchester. She holds a Ph.D. and M.Phil. in Development Studies from Cambridge and an M.A. and B.A. in Political Science from the American University in Cairo. She has worked for UNDP Egypt and consulted the Centre of Social Exclusion at the London School of Economics and the Oxford Poverty and Human Development Initiative. Her main research interests are poverty reduction, governance, grassroots activism, empowerment and state-society relations. Her publications include articles in Third World Quarterly, Oxford Development Studies and Journal of Human Development. She also published a book entitled: 'The Role of Local Councils in Empowerment and Poverty Reduction in Egypt' and has a forthcoming book on 'The CA from Theory to Practice.'

Zoya Hasan is a Professor at Jawaharlal Nehru University and former Dean of the School of Social Sciences. She was a Member of the National Commission for Minorities from 2006 to 2009. She has been a Visiting Professor to the Universities of Zurich, Edinburgh, and Maison des Sciences de L'Homme, Paris, and held fellowships at the Institute of Development Studies, University of Sussex, Rockefeller Centre, Bellagio, and Centre for Modern Oriental Studies, Berlin. She has worked on research projects for the Indian Council of Social Science Research, Ford Foundation, DFID, United Nations Research Institute for Social Development and the Observer Research Foundation. She has been on the Executive Council of several universities and is also on the Editorial Board of various national and international journals. She is presently a Member of the National Integration Council and of the National Monitoring Committee for Minorities Education (NMCME) and a member of the Working Group on Higher Education, Twelfth Five Year Plan, Ministry of Human Resources and Development.

BACK TO CONTENTS

1

**Editorial Introduction**

Rumi Aijaz

Introduction

In ancient times when nations began to be managed by rulers, societies or a system of government, it was realised that many citizens were unhappy because their basic requirements were not being met in a desirable manner. Consequently, voices emerged, calling for giving people a central role and position in the governance process. This thinking paved the way for the evolution of a democratic system which provided for Constitutional empowerment of citizens, thus allowing them to choose their government through voting, and to participate and voice their concerns in the decision-making and implementation processes.

Although democratic principles were greatly appreciated, applied and followed vastly, today we see numerous forms and impacts of democracy across the globe. Each form could be said to be unique and has had varying outcomes. This is observed from the fact that at many places and levels, democracy is not being practiced in the real sense and the prevailing conditions have led to occurrences of tension and conflict between the civil society and the government.

The issue was a subject matter of discussion at a two-day conference organised by the Observer Research Foundation (ORF) with the support of the Rosa Luxemburg Stiftung (RLS) in Delhi from 25-27 November 2013. The conference, organised under the European-Asian Policy Dialogue pursued by the two institutions, covered the following four themes:

- New Wave of Democracy in Asia

- Contemporary Challenges—is Federalism the Answer?

- Democracy at the Grassroots—Rural and Urban Contexts

- Social Media and Democracy

The purpose of this edited volume is to describe various impediments to democracy at the regional, national and local level, and offer ideas for promoting democracy to create a better and peaceful world. The publication comprises ten papers presented by the participating scholars from India and other regions of the world. Given below is a brief description of the conference themes and contribution made by the participating experts.

New Wave of Democracy in Asia

The governance landscape in many parts of the world is fast evolving with a host of socio-cultural and economic drivers interacting to produce profound changes in regime structures and governance mechanisms. Asia itself is the theatre for many of these developments and, at the same time it offers some learning experiences that may have of greater practical resonance in terms of the practice and implementation of democracy. This section of the publication seeks to understand how democracy is being shaped particularly from below and what challenges are resulting from this pressure.

Contemporary Challenges—is Federalism the Answer?

The world is experiencing significant demographic and economic changes and these changes, in turn, are beginning to challenge democratic practices and structures. India's Constitution had conceived a unitary model of governance albeit with certain federal features. As the democratic set up has evolved, the distribution of powers and responsibilities between the states and the centre has become a robustly contested space. Recent movements like the Tea Party movement in the United States show that the state/centre struggle which had once resulted in a civil war, continue to be relevant. The European Union provides a model of federalism in Europe, but the struggle to balance economies of varying strengths has laid bare flaws in the system.

This section examines how federalism has continued to evolve and be relevant.

A brief summary of four contributions pertaining to the above-mentioned two sections is provided below.

Indigenisation of Democracy in South Asia by Rohit Kumar Nepali

In Asia, six democratic countries—India, Indonesia, Japan, Mongolia, South Korea, and Taiwan—are counterbalancing six authoritarian states of the region—Burma, Cambodia, China, Laos, North Korea and Vietnam. The region is unique in character as semi-authoritarian, electoral democracies and transitional states that range from small, wealthy, modern, clean, efficient and authoritarian Singapore to poor, crowded and democratic leaning Bangladesh, which is sandwiched between the region's largest democracy (India) and economically successful authoritarian state (China). Due to varied conditions of the countries it is difficult to compare and draw many useful comparisons because Malaysia, Thailand and Singapore conditions appear ripe for democratic transformation. In contrast, in Bangladesh, Pakistan, and the Philippines frequent interruptions are common phenomenon and similarly, in Nepal and Bhutan democracy is still in nascent stage. The symptom of change process currently may not be rejoiced as a new wave of democracy in the region. It can still be seen as undemocratic from the northern perspective. However, the region is moving in a direction suitable to their socio-cultural context and aspiration of the people. The inability to govern has led these States to view citizen's protest against misrule as challenges to their authority that require to be suppressed. Despite these factors the region has managed to indigenise the democracy to serve the issues intertwined around its people.

New Democratic Patterns in West Asia and the Middle East—Perceptions and Challenges for the Left by Jörg Schultz

The chapter tries to analyse what democratic changes the 'Arabic Spring' and other protest movements in the Middle East and West Asia have brought about. It starts with a closer look at the different stages of the revolutionary events in Egypt as one of the main and most important countries in the region. The chapter links the Egyptian experience with other events in the region and the role played by regional actors, especially those on the Arab peninsula. It also looks at 'Western' reaction to and perception of the uprisings. Special attention is given to the role leftist forces played in the events. Emphasis is given to their understanding of the 'tamarrod' in June/July 2013 and the question whether or not a military coup took place in Egypt. Finally, some conclusions are drawn dealing with the relationship between secular and religious forces, and the regional understanding of democracy and authority.

Democracy and Inequalities in India by Zoya Hasan

The success of India's democracy has evoked much interest not the least because India is one of the poorest countries in the world in terms of per capita income and it is also the world's largest liberal democracy. Indians aren't alone in celebrating their success story scripted by marrying political freedom with economic progress. New Western accounts speak glowingly about a rising India which can counterbalance China. India is indeed rising for the aspiring as well as already privileged classes and the middle classes. On the other side, there are huge inequalities of income, wealth, consumption, access to education, health care and dignified employment. This raises the broader question: how and why such dramatic inequalities could persist in a democracy in which voters create pressure for improved outcomes. How do we explain the persistent gap between the outcomes that people expect and the government's capacity to improve their well-being? To understand why this is so, the chapter focuses on three broad areas: pluralism and inclusiveness, electoral democracy and structural change, and growth and inequalities.

The Space for Federalism: Perspectives from Sri Lanka by Pradeep Peiris

Federalism is in essence, a celebration of diversity and unity. Despite its strengths as an ideology for pluralist societies, attempts to implement federalism often face severe challenges if not fierce resistance. However, in politics, federalism cannot be merely reduced to an ideology and it should be approached as a process as well as an outcome. With this in mind, this paper aims to discuss the Sri Lankan experience with federalism or rather federalism's experience with Sri Lanka. In spite of the fact that federalism has been part of the Sri Lankan political discourse since 1926 as well as the fact that it is a multi-ethnic country that has only just emerged from a nearly three decade long war that was fought on the basis of ethnic grievances, federalism has failed to take root in the imagination of the majority of the country's citizens. Federalism was first advocated by Sinhalese leaders to the Donoughmore Commission, the commission set up by the colonial government in their bid to grant more powers to local leaders. Ironically, later when the Tamil community began to advocate for federalism, the Sinhalese became fierce critics of the system of governance. In 1987, the Indian government's intervention in Sri Lankan ethnic conflict resulted in the introduction of the Provincial Council (PC) to Sri Lanka. Although the powers granted to the Provincial Councils are not similar to the powers enjoyed by federal states elsewhere in the world, it is generally agreed that the system has opened up a degree of space for self-rule. Thirty years of war between the Sri Lankan security forces and the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), on the one hand had made federalism or any form of power sharing arrangement a necessity while on the other hand it also made any federal arrangement impossible. Today, four years after the war, federalism is no longer a necessity despite the obstacles that were there at the time of war now ceased to exist. This chapter attempts to inquire as to why federalism continues to be rejected in the Sri Lankan political landscape, even though the war has come to an end.

Democracy at the Grassroots—Rural Contexts

As urbanisation is on the rise globally, the importance of democracy in rural areas—those 'left behind' by urbanisation—increases. Recognising the importance of democratic institutions at the grassroots, the Indian Constitution ensured that the state would take steps to organise village level governance bodies (Panchayati Raj Institutions) to function as units of self-government. More than half a century later, India has 250,000 Panchayats and 3,200,000 representatives, including 1,200,000 women, all democratically elected. This is an unparalleled experience of democracy at the grassroots level. Rural democracy also has serious implications for agrarian reform, a critical part of the transition from agriculture-based economies that several countries (like Brazil) are undergoing. This section seeks to understand how democracy is being shaped in the rural contexts.

A brief summary of two contributions pertaining to the above-mentioned section is provided below.

What Works is What Matters! An investigation into Successful Practices of Panchayati Raj Institutions in India by Saurabh Johri

This chapter attempts to make an analysis around some of the key design elements of the 73rd Amendment which were embedded to have more far-reaching consequences than just expanding the scale and scope of democracy. And then assessing them through some examples where the system worked. In the end, the chapter would try and identify levers which made those examples work and evaluate whether the reasons are limited to the successful example contexts and geographies or have elements of countrywide replication.

The 3 C-Model of Grassroots-led Development: Challenges and Prospects of Democracy in Rural Egypt by Solava Ibrahim

Democracy needs to be built from the bottom-up. The experiences of countries, such as India, demonstrate the important role that local institutions and communal initiatives can play a role not only in empowering citizens, but also in forming a profound basis for a functioning democracy at the grassroots-level. However, the question remains: How can these local institutions and initiatives be means for promoting democracy, inclusion and citizenship? This chapter argues that there are three crucial processes needed to establish and promote scalable, successful and sustainable (3-S) grassroots initiatives; namely (1) conscientisation; (2) conciliation and (3) collaboration. Using Egypt as a case study, the chapter first explores the developmental and democratic role of local institutions such, as elected local councils, as the first building blocks for grassroots democracy in rural contexts. The chapter then presents two case studies of local grassroots initiatives in rural Egypt (the first one led by a local leader and the second led by a local NGO) to demonstrate how these processes of conscientisation, conciliation and collaboration can be supported in practice, thus promoting democracy at the grassroots.

Democracy at the Grassroots—Urban Contexts

The world is witnessing a fast growth of the urban population. This fundamental shift has had significant implications on the emphasis placed on urban governance, particularly Local Urban Bodies. India's 2011 Census showed decadal population growth for urban areas as overshooting the figure for rural India for the first time since independence in 1947. Global trends also reveal increasing urbanisation, with several countries already more than 75 percent urbanised. Combined with developing technology, public space has taken on a virtual character, and this has had an effect on democracy and social movements within cities. The urban reactions to the financial crisis, including the occupy movement, are examples of this. This section seeks to detail examples and experiences that might point to the direction democracy will take in urban spaces.

A brief summary of two contributions pertaining to the above-mentioned section is provided below.

Select Participatory Mechanisms in Turkey—The Urban Context by Korel Göymen

Changes that have taken place particularly in the political, social and economic spheres (in the aftermath of the Second World War) had their impact on the urban scene in Turkey. Transition to a multi-party system in 1946 meant that, not only at national level, but also at local level, interest articulation and representation, political differentiation and aggregation would take place. People soon 'discovered' the link between elected posts and allocation of resources. The sudden availability of numerous elected posts (around 400,000 only within the municipal system, incorporating mayors, councillors, village headmen and village councillors, urban neighbourhood headmen and committee members), the prestige and authority that came with them, and the 'bargaining position' provided to the incumbents, increased their attraction. This, in turn, led to increased political participation. The mass exodus from villages to urban areas; the demands of urban migrants for access to urban resources and services; and the increased role of municipalities in providing such access greatly enhanced the prestige of municipalities and helped to differentiate them from central government. Eventually, participation at local level became more rewarding and attractive. But the development of representative democracy and extension of representative institutions eventually became inadequate, necessitating attempts to foster participative and deliberative democracy. The alternative structures to elected urban assemblies and other participative mechanisms emerged in this context. Political, social and economic differentiation, in the meantime, created a sizable and viable civil society to initially demand, and later on support, such initiatives.

Local Politics, Democracy and Participation in Berlin by Katrin Lompscher

The chapter provides an insight into the legal framework and practical experiences regarding local politics and participation in Germany, giving the example of Berlin. Three examples illustrate the functioning and space for action with regard to participation in local level politics. The first example is the administrative district of Berlin Lichtenberg with more than 250,000 inhabitants where the local administrative body under the leadership of the left (DIE LINKE) has implemented a vision of broad participation of the people in the local development and related decision-making processes. The second example illustrates the referendum on the Media Spree, a centrally located area in the city of Berlin by the river Spree which has become a ground for heavy commercial investment. The third example shows the success of the plebiscites on the re-municipalisation of the Berlin water agency (2011) and the energy agency (2013). The given cases show that instruments of direct democracy and participation become increasingly relevant, especially with regard to local level politics. This is valid both in terms of local practice and the increasing number of plebiscites. The experiences of these initiatives should feed into the local politics, even if the quorums remain high or the results of plebiscites are not legally binding. Otherwise, the voters will surely give their feedback at the ballot box.

Social Media and Democracy

Of late there has been a proliferation of new communication technologies and social media platforms. Given the fact that most of these technologies are based upon mobile phones that are cheaply and widely available, most developing countries have experienced an explosive growth in social media participation. It is important to note that social media has both a demand dimension and a supply dimension. Thus, while new media and technologies are fundamentally altering the pace and patterns of social interaction (often in unpredictable and possibly disruptive ways), E-governance opportunities are enabling information and service delivery in hitherto unprecedented ways. It is critical that we attempt to understand the complexities of this phenomenon and how these are shaping democracy.

A brief summary of two contributions pertaining to the above-mentioned section is provided below.

Politics of Networked Societies by Nitin Pai and Sneha Shankar

The structure of the modern nation-state was forged in the Industrial Age. It now confronts the demands of the Information Age and is increasingly found wanting. A networked society is flat, its demands are diverse and often inchoate, decision-making processes are amorphous, and leadership diffuse. However, such a society is governed by a government that operates in a hierarchical manner, top-down and bottom-up, in silos, bound by hard rules and distinct leadership. While a networked society moves fast, a hierarchical government moves relatively slowly on account of its structure. To members of networked societies the hierarchical government appears slow, less responsive and remote, hence lacking in credibility and legitimacy. One reason the United States emerged on top of the world order is because it had the best political system for post-Enlightenment industrial age societies. It may well be that the nation that best reinvents itself for the information age will have a shot at being the next great superpower. The presentation will interrogate the relationship between structures of the contemporary states and the expectations of their networked societies.

Politics of Digitally Mediated Spaces: The Scripted Logic of Inclusion and Exclusion by R. Swaminathan

Social media and Internet are seen as Siamese twins. The discursive architecture of social media is so tightly coupled with the various imaginaries of Internet that the distinct spatiality, territoriality and relational power dynamics of each is often simplistically blurred and merged. This chapter makes the case that the sociality and spatiality of social media is not only different from that of Internet, but is becoming part of our contemporary built environment in a manner that confers social media a high degree of relative autonomy in its relationship with Internet. The chapter further argues that such autonomy is fundamentally mutating social media from a site of articulation into a set of digitally mediated spaces with its own scripted and connected logic of inclusion and exclusion. The chapter establishes that the integration with built environment is foundationally linked to a suite of five interrelated technologies of wireless transmission, interactive and emotive display systems, digital cartography, Radio Frequency Identification (RFID) systems and geo-locational mapping systems and services. The chapter also raises questions about our understanding of these emergent digitally mediated spaces arguing that a limited approach of reducing social media to sites of articulation marginalises the underlying socio-technical politics of such spaces. In conclusion, the chapter makes the case that the digital augmentation of public and private spaces is creating a hybridised socio-technoscape that bridges the gap between 'the epistemological realm and the practical one, between mental and social, between the space of the philosophers and the space of people who deal with material things' transforming the fundamental principles of democracy.

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2

**Indigenisation of Democracy in South Asia**

Rohit Kumar Nepali

Asian Democracies in Perspective

In Asia, six democratic countries—India, Indonesia, Japan, Mongolia, South Korea, and Taiwan—serve as a counterbalance to the region's authoritarian states, also numbering six: Burma, Cambodia, China, Laos, North Korea, and Vietnam. The latter six are consistently ranked as the world's least free and democratic.

The region is unique in its wide range of nature states: semi-authoritarian; electoral democracies; and transitional states. These countries range from the small, wealthy, modern, clean, efficient—and authoritarian—Singapore, to poor, crowded and democratic-leaning Bangladesh which, in turn, is sandwiched between the region's largest democracy (India) and economically successful authoritarian state (China). Pakistan, meanwhile, alternating between elected civilian government and military rule, continues to present unique and deeply worrisome challenges not only in the region but globally as well. For its part, Burma, in spite of being ranked among the world's least free countries—with its thousands of political prisoners, a military government, armed insurgency, a controlled press, and battered opposition—has somehow managed to shed its authoritarian past and pariah status in the international community.

Then there is Sri Lanka whose government—despite some natural advantages and its early start on the path to democracy since declaring victory over the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE)—has weakened democratic institutions, deepened ethnic polarisation, and aggravated the country's long-standing impunity for human rights violations.[1]

Worrisomely, India, Pakistan, North Korea, and China, possess nuclear weapons. However, the presence of six democratic countries in the region, the prospects for democratic change looks more promising, particularly in the economically dynamic countries of East and Southeast Asia. Due to varied conditions of the countries it is difficult to compare them and draw useful comparisons because Malaysia, Thailand, and Singapore's conditions appear ripe for democratic transformation. In contrast, in Bangladesh, Pakistan, and the Philippines, frequent interruptions are common phenomenon. Similarly, in Nepal and Bhutan, democracy is still in their nascent stage.

Commonality within Complexities in South Asia

The region with a common colonial past is characterised by its large human population, growing poverty, weak governance structures, and feeble democratic institutions, increasing militarisation, and sectarianism.

The inadequacy of the governance process constitutes a major threat to the democracies. The common causes of this crisis of governance have been identified as the following: the decay of political parties and democratic institutions; venality of the ruling elite and their indifference to the common will; resistance to devolution and devolution of powers to the people; unimaginative dealing with minorities; pervasive electoral process; and the nexus between criminals and corrupt bureaucrats, politicians and businessmen.[2]

There is a crisis of governance in all the South Asian countries: the difference is not only of scale, but the resulting deterioration in the administrative system and security in the States and human development in the region.[3]

Across the region, democracy has weakened, corruption increased, and basic citizens' rights are routinely denied. Liberalisation and globalisation have contributed to increasing income inequalities where more privileged groups have been enjoying the fruits of development by controlling the limited resources. As a result, large numbers of the region's people have failed to benefit from the national development plans. The development budget, for one, is being diverted to fund defence activities.[4] The marginalised and deprived groups such as women, Dalits, ethnic, tribal and religious and linguistic minority communities, have been deprived of civil liberties, security, political right and participation in decision-making. The rule of law in South Asia is widely disregarded and undermined in terms of socio-economic cultural rights and equality to all. Lawlessness plays a dominant role in promoting bad governance in the region. Although, a life of dignity and social justice is the basic right of the people, the current situation has led to the indiscriminate violation of human rights. People are gradually losing sensitivity, development is losing humane face, and democratic institutions are weakening.

In South Asian countries parliamentary systems offer an alternative to divisions between the legislature and executive branches that have hindered effective governance. The region has seen many elections—national and local in the past 60 years.[5] Voters may also extend a disturbing paradox in the region, as maturing democracy is becoming more dysfunctional. Indeed, the precedents of democratic immobility in South Asia are hardly encouraging. The problem in the region often arises from an awkward arrangement by which a directly elected president must co-exist with a legislature controlled by a rival party or parties. The political system has given many forms of governments—democratic, socialist, and military—but mostly without a clear-cut vision and directive for the development of minorities and the marginalised.

The people of South Asia have chosen democratic governance to fulfil their aspirations, values and needs, without realising the challenges they have to face to accomplish their dreams. The region has diverse democratic systems and practices, which are based on their cultural, historical, political and socio-economical realities. The democratic systems selected by the countries of the region have faced failures, though the degrees and nature of challenges vary from country to country.

The continuation of strong feudal and traditional values and patriarchal cultural practices have hindered the capacity enhancement and utilisation of opportunities for women, Dalits, tribal, ethnic and minority communities in South Asia.

Many South Asian nations, moreover, share the common characteristic of the domination of dynastic politics: in India, Sri Lanka, Pakistan, Bangladesh, and Nepal, by, respectively, families of Nehru, Bandaranayke, Bhutto, Mujibur Rahman/Zia, and Koirala. These dynasties have limited, to a significant degree, the space for democracies to grow in its normal pace.

Myanmar, for its part, continues to frustrate democratic aspirations due to its anti-religion-ethnic actions. Even in Nepal, political developments have not been conducive to the healthy and sustained growth of democracy. The democratic credibility of the Karzai regime in Afghanistan and Sri Lanka's Rajapaksa regime has been seriously eroded; both countries are caught in internal conflicts. The transition to democracy in Bhutan (initiated by the King), the Maldives (initiated by President Gayoom) and Bangladesh (backed by the army) was projected as a top-down process, and not the direct result of grassroots pressures. In the Maldives, since the outgoing President still has considerable support in the existing legislature and bureaucracy democratic institutions may have to consolidate faster under the dynamic leadership of new representatives. Although in Bangladesh, the people have expressed a clear choice in choosing their new rulers, the future of democracy will however depend on the course of actions that will be undertaken by the ruling Awami League and its leader, Hasina Wajid.

In contrast to these gloomy trends, there has been a marked resurgence of democracy in South Asia. Bhutan started its transition from an absolute to a constitutional monarchy in 2004 and completed the process by electing a legislature and a representative government in 2008. Nepal's 'peoples' movement' (Jan Andolan-II) succeeded in 2006, ending the Maoist insurgency, abolishing the monarchy, and establishing a republic. Elections have been periodically held in the largest democracy of the world, India, setting a good example of a smooth but dramatic change in government for others to emulate in the region.

The challenge to democracy arises from primordial values and identities, such as caste, religion and region, basic political loyalties, and inequalities. Fragile, nascent democratic institutions have to deliver development in order to meet the unfolding aspirations of their people. No country is free from the threat of rising extremism, social injustice, and terrorism—all of which are fast destroying democratic values and institutions in the region.

New Waves of Democracy in South Asia

The existing common pattern of democratisation, as demonstrated during the political evolution among the countries, raises questions of sustainability of democracy that has been a matter of grave regional and international concern. In spite of most of the states witnessing the return of authoritarianism at regular intervals, the trials and tribulations of the past experiments as well as the present challenges reveal certain interesting characteristics of the regional democratic endeavour. This is a positive sign of greater democratisation of the states in the region.

These waves could be viewed as attempts by the new generation to build nations by enhancing people power, state guidance, civil society movement, and international assistance, in order to promote social justice, individual freedom, and democratic governance for maintaining distinct and diverse ethnic, religious, and cultural identities. However, to sustain it by fulfilling the aspirations of the people is a challenge the region has to face in the coming future. The new waves could thus be described in the following pattern:

Paving the path for accountable political governance

The political history of the region has established that people in power have always minimised the value of rule of law in the region. Time and again, politicians have tried harder to break the rule and made mockery of the rule of law. This has been recorded in the histories of countries as varied as Afghanistan and Sri Lanka. There has been a widely held notion that politicians are above the law. The past few years, however, have been a benchmark for the region in terms of putting people in power behind the bar, proving that politicians are not above the law, after all.

The inability of the State to maintain law and order through its conceived organs and agencies has led to an anarchic situation in the past. The accumulation of black money (unaccounted income) constitutes a parallel economy. The inability of the State to unravel this economy and proceed against tax-evaders exemplifies the bonding between corrupt politicians, officials, and businessmen. In most of the cases of corruption, high-level politicians and bureaucrats have been found to be entangled (Transparency International, 2002).

Corruption at the top distils fundamental decisions about development priorities, policies, and projects. It is reported that most of the corrupt money of the region are immediately smuggled out to foreign countries, to be kept in secret accounts in banks bound by strict confidentiality rules.[6] There is hardly any process of accountability in regional states, where top leaders are investigated and prosecuted, unless they belong to the opposition. It is believed that all the agencies dealing with corruption, tax evasion, smuggling, and other economic offences, have been so politicised over the decades that prompt and proper action against the politicians has become the exception rather than the rule. Investigations into individual abuses and legal punishment for perpetrators have occurred, but for many abuses, a lack of accountability due to weak law enforcement, a lack of trained police, and an overburdened court system, has created an atmosphere of impunity; lengthy court backlogs prolong the latter.[7] However, the region-wide movement of digging out the cases of corruption and wrongdoing against national leaders and strong judiciary standing in support of maintaining the rule of law is something that may be a milestone in sustaining democracy in the region.

Currently, several high-profile politicians are facing imprisonment for various charges of corruption: Former Chief Ministers Lalu Prasad Yadav, Jagannath Mishra, former minister A. Raja, MP Jagdish Sharma, Suresh Kalamadi of India, and Nepal's former Ministers Chiranjeevi Wagle, Jaya Prakash Gupta, and Khum Bahadur Khadka. The Intermediate People's Court of China has also sentenced Shandong Bo Xilai, former powerful leader of the Party of Chongqing, to life imprisonment.[8] Former Federal Minister Humayun Aziz Kurd of Pakistan has been sentenced to one year in prison. A number of parliamentarians in Pakistan are also imprisoned for using fake degrees for the election. Some other politicians such as Kameshwar Baitha in northeast India, are in prison for criminal charges. In February 2013, Bangladesh court sentenced nine politicians to life in prison for the murder of journalist.[9]

The enactment of right to information law has played an important role in such an endeavour. Even the failure to carry out a meaningful process of maintaining transparency of informing the people about the rights and State policies, plans, and programs, has created resentment among the people.[10]

Pakistan was the first country in the region to promulgate the Freedom of Information Ordinance in 2002, which divided civil society groups into two factions. In India, the introduction of the Right to Information (RTI) Act in 2005 has placed a duty on the government to provide the public with information. Bangladesh passed the Right to Information Act in 2009. However, there is no guarantee of right to information in its Constitution. Initiatives are underway to promulgate a law on right to information in Maldives; in Bhutan, the government has only a draft RTI bill. The draft RTI Act was provided to the Ministry of Information and Communication of Nepal in 2009 by the Constitutional Drafting Committee but it is still under consideration. There are no similar indications in Afghanistan and in Sri-Lanka.

Awareness about the value of transparency and accountably is gradually picking up among the region's masses. In India, for example, it is widely believed that the RTI Law has given ordinary Indians a valuable tool in exercising sovereignty: to ask questions and demand answers. RTI has, indeed, initiated an era of citizen-driven transparency and accountability in the country.[11] Recently, Atty. Gen. G.E. Vahanavati of India has pushed for the inclusion of political parties under the ambit of the RTI Law, since there is a possibility under the Act's Section 2 (proving, among others, the definition of 'public authority') and Section 8 (exemption of information from disclosure) to observe that cushion political parties against harassment.[12]

The people of Nepal, meanwhile, have also taken advantage of this provision and several cases have been lodged against political leaders through the Commission for the Investigation of Abuse of Authority (CIAA). The CIAA registered 8,839 petitions in the fiscal year 2011 to 2012 and investigated 5,466 cases, according to the commission's records.[13] As a result, in the year 2012-13, several political leaders have been jailed.

For its part, Bangladesh set up its Anti-Corruption Commission (ACC) in 2004 in order to have a neutral, independent institution that would enact preventative and retributive policies to fight corruption in a variety of entities, both governmental and non-governmental.[14] However, in the latest report on Bangladesh issued by the International Crisis Group,[15] the ACC was called a "toothless tiger."[16] Bangladesh would therefore need to strengthen its accountability infrastructure if it hopes to address its serious problem of corruption: Transparency International's report has found that an enormous 97 percent of MPs are involved in "negative activities" and a whopping 70 percent "were involved in criminal activities."[17]

Pakistan's anti-graft court has reopened five corruption cases against former president Asif Ali Zardari dating back to the 1990s: these cases are related to kickbacks, money laundering, and the illegal construction of a polo ground at the prime minister's official residence—all occurring during his slain wife, Benazir Bhutto's two terms as premier. While President Zardari enjoyed immunity from prosecution, it ended when he stepped down after five years in September; an anti-corruption court has since taken up the cases.[18]

How much guilt the notable politicians have is a question to be tested in the coming days. Some of them, however, have already been disqualified to contest in the elections due to the introduction of new electoral policies in India, Bangladesh, and Nepal. The process will be helpful in breaking the deep-rooted culture of corruption, criminalisation, and silence in politics and political governance. Justice must prevail in order to strengthen democracy.

Capitalisation of peoples' power for political change

It is generally believed that in the developing world, the state is in conflict with people and their interests because civil society is not robust.[19] It is also true that the region remained dominated by non-democratic states and civil society continued to be limited, but by the late 1980s and early 1990s broad-based movements for democracy began to emerge. The Philippines became the first nation to witness its citizens rising up to rebellion against their authoritarian government's monopoly on power. The first "People's Power Movement" in 1986 led to the ouster of dictator, Ferdinand Marcos, and the reintroduction of democracy. Not long after, the Philippines revolt was followed in 1987 by the Gwangju Democracy Movement in South Korea; the August 8, 1988, democracy movement in Burma; the massive mobilisations on Tiananmen Square in China in 1989; the Jana Andolan, or People's Movement, in Nepal in 1990; Thailand's popular uprising in 1992; and the emergence of democracy in Indonesia in 1997. Not all the movements proved to be as successful as those in the Philippines and Nepal, however. Still, the emergence of these movements marked a fundamental shift in regional political evolution.

Considering people's power that is demonstrated impressively in Nepal followed by Pakistan cannot be undermined. Three weeks of peaceful agitation on the streets of Nepal against an autocratic monarchy in April 2006 was carried out by around nine million people under the leadership of the Maoists and the Seven Party Alliance (SPA) with the support of civil society. It changed the course of violent insurgency into peaceful struggle. In Pakistan in March 2007, the decisive turn against the military regime occurred when the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, Justice Iftikhar Chaudhry, was sacked by Gen. Pervez Musharraf. Years of military rule in Pakistan had not allowed much scope for civil society groups. Women's rights groups had protested against the military regime and been imprisoned and harassed. The media also constructively used the freedom it gained under the military regime to voice support for democracy (S. Akbar Zaidi, 2008). In Bhutan, as citizens of Nepali origin demanded for political liberalisation beginning in the mid-1980s, the King was forced to initiate the process of change and establish democratic institutions. In the Maldives, the struggle for democracy was sparked by the death in custody of a young boy. The principal role in raising the issue and carrying it forward was played by those who had been alienated from the Gayoom regime. Civil society groups either did not exist or were dependent on the regime (Minivan News, 28 July 2005; UNHCR, 2007). However, the pressure for democratisation gathered momentum once the reform process was initiated and political parties were legalised. In Bangladesh, although civil society groups and a plethora of international non-governmental organisations (NGOs) argued for democracy, none really opposed the caretaker government and its efforts to change the contours of the party structure and political dynamics (ICG Report, 2008). Sporadic people's movements are going on in different parts of India though without much of a success at national level. However, the recent anti-corruption movement led by Anna Hazare—followed by the formation of the Aam Adami political party—reflects the leaning of the new generation towards political reforms towards accomplishing the people's aspirations. In the case of Afghanistan, a major role is played by the external forces. The fact cannot be overruled, however, that Afghanistan has devised its own unique form of political operations where indigenous and international concerns are balanced according to national needs.[20]

In Nepal and Pakistan, civil society groups came forcefully forward to sustain the democratic struggle while the political parties were still confused and lacked the confidence to take on the autocratic rulers. Sri Lanka and Nepal also have classical example of collective efforts of multiple players in reviving democracy. However, credit goes to Afghanistan for successfully balancing national and international pressures, with minimum offence to either. In Bangladesh, civil society widely criticised actions during anti-corruption crackdown when many political leaders were detained indefinitely, without trials by the Caretaker Government.

In the meantime, one cannot think about weakening or bypassing the state for fulfilling the aspirations of the diverse peoples in such a complex region. In a democracy, political parties have the primary responsibility for mobilising the masses in democratic struggles but opinions can be developed domestically with international pressure enhanced by civil society for serving national interests. The democratic transition in South Asia could not have succeeded without the rise of people's power and the support extended by the international community. Despite its radical character, the democratic transition that has taken place in South Asia is still fragile and requires the strengthening of viable and effective democratic institutions. But one cannot negate the fact of positive symptom of democratisation process taking firm roots in the region.

Leaning towards free, fair, and inclusive electoral process

It is rightly said that, given past experience, even a successful election will only be the initial step to developing a more effective democracy[21] in most of the countries of South Asia. While India has been the largest democracy in the world for more than six decades now, both Pakistan and Bangladesh have experienced extra-constitutional rule several times in their brief history of democracy. Maldives has just transited to a democratic order but Nepal, even after peaceful CA election, has still yet to successfully undertake democratic exercises.

A close look into the electoral processes and political systems practiced in South Asia would reveal some major gaps affecting the character of political formations, participation of the people, inclusion of women, minorities, rural and the urban poor, the peripheral regions and sub-national groups into the mainstream. In most cases, the power structures and/or ruling elites of South Asia dominate electoral politics, major political parties, and powerful institutions of state. Democracy has in fact become an occasional ritual for the electorates, manipulated by powerful groups, ethnic/caste/religious factors, money and media, without allowing greater participation to the people in day to day democracy and governance. Marriage of crime and politics and use of unfair means in invariably all countries of the region, have lowered the esteem of public representatives, politics, and political parties. Now people with criminal records sit in legislatures and mock the rule of law. Use of violence has also become quite common, reflecting the existence of authoritarian tendencies across South Asian societies.

Across the region, the situation pertaining to criminalisation of politics in the states may differ in scale, but less in character. The criminalisation of politics has infiltrated to affect the process of governance by immobilising the State. The entry of criminals into the legislatures and cabinets hollows out the State from within, strengthening the nexus between the pillars of government and anti-social elements. If this is left unattended, it can lead to "failing" or "failed "emerging States."[22]

At the moment, from statutory declarations made by elected representatives to the Election Commission of India, 162 out of 543 members of the lower house of the Indian parliament, the Lok Sabha, face criminal charges.[23] A lawmaker from India's ruling Congress party, Rasheed Masood, is in jail, serving a sentence of four years for corruption; he was the first MP to lose his parliamentary seat under new rules governing convicted politicians.[24]

A Bangladeshi court banned the South Asian nation's largest Islamist party from taking part in the next elections, saying the party violates the country's secular democratic principles. Bangladesh's High Court panel ruled on a petition filed in 2009 by a group of citizens that challenged the legality of Jamaat-e-Islami's registration as a political party and claimed the movement wants to impose Islamic-based law in the country.[25]

In a positive note, the approval of secular, inclusive, and gender-sensitive 'Representation of the People Ordinance 2008' by the Bangladesh cabinet due to consorted efforts of Election Commission is a benchmark in support of the civil society movement.[26] The Election Laws (Amendment) Act, 2011 of Pakistan, which amended the Electoral Rolls Act, 1974, and the Representation of the People Act, 1976, is particularly important. It makes the possession of a valid computerised national identity card (CNIC),[27] issued by the National Database and Registration Authority (NADRA), mandatory for voter registration and participation.[28]

In Sri Lanka, laws regarding the recognition of political parties have been amended at different times from 1959. The code of conduct for political parties and candidates was issued for the first time by the Department of Elections with the Provincial Councils Elections held in 2012, taking into consideration the responsibility of political parties to be more productive and realistic. The non-party candidates are nominated as independent groups at elections and the code of conduct also applies to candidates of independent groups.[29]

Similarly, most of the countries' electoral systems use a code of conduct to regulate the conduct of political parties, candidates, and their supporters, during an election and to ensure free, fair and just elections. The code of conducts of the countries of the region has given more value to avoid malpractice, manipulation, injustice and exclusion of any kind in the election process to ensure free, fair and secured election.[30]

In spite of various electoral reforms by the Election Commissions (EC), including India to strengthen democracy and enhance the fairness of elections, the system is still plagued by many vices. However, it is believed that ECs do not have the legal and institutional powers to punish the errant politicians who transgress and violate the electoral laws, and political parties resort to foul methods and corrupt practices.[31]

No doubt measures have been taken to reduce the role of money in elections by almost all the states of the region. However, in Bangladesh, India, Pakistan and Sri Lanka, the electoral contests are generally won with money and the coercive power of local elites. Except for India, where the election commission is relatively quite powerful and independent, election authorities are manipulated in one way or the other in other countries. Even though Bangladesh has evolved a very innovative neutral caretaker setup, it is not beyond manipulation either. To avoid rigging in counting and tampering with the ballot, India introduced a computerised system of balloting which should be adopted by other countries in the region to ensure the sanctity of the ballot.[32] Nepal, during the CA election, has introduced measures through controlling campaigning cost to enhance the participation of women.

Tribal, caste, ethnic and parochial elements have come to play a greater role in the fortunes of political parties who now increasingly rely on election campaigns that are devoid of substantive issues. More importantly, although a two/three-party system has been progressively evolving in most countries of South Asia, the mainstream parties have been on the decline in terms of democratic ethos, institutional functioning, and programmatic emphasis. Still worse, the role of religious parochialism in politics has substantially increased in India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh including Sri Lanka, Thailand and Burma with Buddhist monks' involvement in violent political movement.

Genuine women's representation and the participation of under-privileged, religious and ethnic minorities, remained abysmally low in the electoral and representative systems in the region despite introduction of the reservation and quota system.

While greater representation of women has been ensured through an indirect party-list system of proportional representation in Pakistan, efforts at bringing gender balance in the representative system especially at national assembly have yet to succeed in India. The quality and meaningful representations of women in Nepal is yet to be proven in spite of having succeeded in bringing 33.2 percent representation of women in CA election. Bangladesh has been changing their reservation quota provision in the past years, raising questions about the state's commitment towards gender sensitivity in political governance. In spite of peaceful election in Bangladesh, women and minority representation may not reach meaningful participation soon, with only 64 women in parliament out of 350 seats. Sri Lanka, having the lowest representation of women in the national assembly, despite having more than 90 percent women literacy, has yet to open the account for equitable gender representation in political governance.

The existing violence against women in politics (VAWIP) and engendering democratic governance (EDG) practice in politics combined with "culture of silence" and "culture of criminalisation" are the major factors that hinder the active participation of women in politics. Several cases of discrimination and VAWIP has been surfaced in the past years[33] to prove the vulnerability of the women and marginalised to utilise their rights appropriately under the effective implementation of rule of law.

In the past few years, the introduction of inclusive and gender sensitive electoral law, banning criminals to context elections, None of the Above (NOTA) button,[34] and reservation/quotas are some of the progressive measures adopted by the regional states in favour of free and fair election, which hope to pave the path for strengthening democratic governance. However, the process cannot ensure the effective implementation of the initiatives considering the weak political will of the parties and ineffective mechanism. An independent media and an enlightened public opinion have no substitute in pursing agendas of reforms. The voters have to play a critical role according to their convictions and punish those who infract the rules, corrupt practices will automatically disappear. This process can enable democracy to flourish and grow to its full capacity.

Conclusion

The symptom of change process currently may not be rejoiced as new wave of democracy in the region. It can still be seen as undemocratic from the northern perspective. However, the region is moving in a direction suitable to their socio-cultural context and aspirations of the people. The current democratic practices are full of flaws and lacunas to be considered as a model of democratic governance. There are several issues relating to human rights related to gender, minority, ethnicity and religion, good governance, personalisation of politics around dynasty and individual freedom.[35] The continuing feudal character of South Asian society in the form of preferred autocracies and dynastic/lineage leadership lies at the heart of this problem. The past half-century only perceived the trappings of modernisation; however the core values and mental attitudes of its leadership remained firmly embedded in the past.

Similarly, perhaps, South Asia has a highly centralised political structure. Although most countries are federal, they have not allowed greater autonomy to the federating units, as in Bangladesh, India, Pakistan, Nepal and Sri Lanka that have resulted in tensions and conflicts between a strong federation and weaker federating units. In turn, the states or provinces have not allowed the process of devolution to reach the grassroots level. Consequently, people at large feel alienated and have no substantive role in governance or development. It is not surprising that the countries of South Asia are faced with one or the other kind of political crisis. Democracy is yet to take firm root and democratic culture is still far from becoming the norm.

Most importantly, the nations of South Asia are still in search of social contract that could satisfy their people, regardless of gender, faith, ethnicity or religion. The inability to govern has led these States to view citizen's protest against misrule as challenges to their authority that require to be suppressed. Despite these factors the region has managed to indigenise the democracy to serve the issues intertwined around its people. Formation of domestic opinions, mobilisation of people power, respecting diversity/co-existence, reforming the laws and strengthening democratic institutional mechanisms are some of the positive features of the states. The states of the region are experimenting to evolve as democracies suited to their political, cultural and socio-economic context to deal with the issues of socio-economic modernisation, nation-building and state-building. The new wave of the region emphasises on country-specific models of democracy, which is the assertion of the possibilities of distinctiveness and innovativeness in democracy.

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3

**New Democratic Patterns in West Asia and the Middle East: Perceptions and Challenges for the Left**

Jörg Schultz

Today Asia stands as the world's theatre for profound changes in regime structures and government mechanisms and offers various lessons from its own experiences for the practice and implementation of democracy. It may be helpful and necessary to have a closer look at recent developments in West Asia and, in a larger context, the Middle East.

The last decade was witness to substantial changes and challenges in countries like Afghanistan, Iraq, and Syria. We may also be seeing the beginning of some reforms in the domestic and foreign policies of Iran; Turkey, meanwhile, has been the scene of a broad democratic movement of a magnitude that not only impressed the Turkish government but also gained a lot of international support. In the Arab world, revolutions and regime changes have transformed the political landscape of Tunisia, Libya, and perhaps the most prominent, Egypt.

Interestingly enough, the situation concerning the Palestinian-Israeli conflict has remained relatively stable and unchanged, considering how for many years it was the hottest spot of political controversy in the region—even when considering all ups and downs from outbreaks of military violence to new peace initiatives.

It is not within the limits of this paper to examine the political, economic and social situation in all countries I have mentioned. Rather I would try to provide some information on a few of these countries and from there, draw some conclusions. Let us begin with Egypt.

After three decades of gripping his country with his authoritarian rule, Hosni Mubarak stepped down on 11 February 2011. He followed Zine Al-Abidine Ben Ali of Tunisia, who fled his country roughly a month earlier, on 14 January 2011. The world was taken by surprise by how fast and effectively the two Presidents—who both were regarded by the West as key guarantors of political stability in the region—disappeared from the scene.

To be honest, my organisation—the Rosa-Luxemburg-Stiftung—was also surprised by the events in Northern Africa. Our physical presence in the broader region was limited to keeping offices in Ramallah and Jerusalem, and we had started some very small activities in Egypt. Since these reforms began sweeping the region we have established an office in Tunisia and we are trying to have another one in Turkey. Back in 2011, we had no people on the ground to inform us about these ongoing developments.

The so-called 'Arab Spring' was supported by huge protest movements involving broad sections of the population—men and women, young and old, Muslims, other religious groups and atheists—and facilitated by the use of social media and modern information technologies. Its slogans were 'Karame, Hurriya and Adala'—dignity, freedom and justice. The supporters demanded social justice and the end of the muzzling of their political rights.

However, the parliamentary elections in late 2011 and early 2012, the presidential elections in June 2012, and the referendum on the Constitution in November 2012, ended with the seizure and expansion of power by the Islamists led by the Muslim Brothers and a defeat of the secular forces.

The contradictions between the fundamentalist and secular forces grew rapidly: the new Constitution was characterised by strong Islamic elements, women's rights were curbed, it lacked the protection of the rights of minorities (of special importance to the big Coptic minority); the Muslim brothers created their own militias, they staffed the administration with their own supporters, and appointed several governors from their own ranks and files. The situation was aggravated by the poor economic situation, the shortage of food—especially bread—and fuel, electricity and water, growing prices, the collapse of the tourism industry. Morsi, to some extent, continued Mubarak's economic policies by cutting public spending and pursuing neo-liberal strategies in the interest of the rich, including elements of the Mubarak regime.

On one hand, the social and economic policies of the Muslim Brothers were a complete failure. This further damaged the reputation of the Brothers because under Mubarak they had derived a great deal of their legitimacy from providing charity and services to the poor in the areas of food, health and education. Thus they lost their image of being 'social providers.'

On the other hand, the Brothers and other Islamic forces are strong supporters of a free-market economy and do not reject foreign investments. This made them suspicious among those—especially among left groups—who after the fall of Mubarak had hoped for some kind of development beyond capitalism.

At this point in time, the West was faced with the challenge to find some kind of understanding with political parties and forces they had fought against in the past. To accept the Islamic forces as the new political leaders required the West to abolish—or at the very least, re-think—old concepts of the 'enemy,' and to give up on allies they had supported for decades in order to maintain stability in the region and which were strong opponents of the Islamists. When President Morsi visited Germany in early 2013, the German foreign minister said that no one could expect that after such a long time of authoritarian rule everything just suddenly takes a turn for the better. In my view, the policies of the West were mainly driven by economic and geostrategic interests. They expected—and continue to expect—the rule of the Islamists to prevail at least for a longer period of time. Thus they resorted—and here I would like to use the German expression—to realpolitik, although they had concerns about Morsi's understanding of democracy and the rule of law as well as women's and religious freedoms.

Everything seemed to be set for agreement and compromise when—much to the surprise of observers of the region—the tamarrod (rebellion, revolt) broke out. This grassroots movement started its activities only in April 2013 and was originally mainly driven by activists of the Kifaya (It's enough!) movement who had already made a very big contribution to the fall of Mubarak. The movement grew rapidly in many parts of the country and was soon also joined by numerous supporters of the former regime. People demanded an end to the political stalemate created by the Brothers' rule; they pinned their expectations and hope on a movement of change. Finally, at the end of June 2013, tamarrod declared that some 22 million people had signed a petition demanding the resignation of president Morsi; that translates to a quarter of the Egyptian population signing the petition. However, it was never counted. On 30 June 2013 tamarrod called for anti-Morsi protests, and about 17 million people took to the streets all over Egypt: it was the biggest demonstration Egypt had ever seen in its history. This demonstration finally marked the formation of two irreconcilable camps in the country: the secular camp—ranging from left wing parties to Mubarak supporters; and the Islamist camp—ranging from the Muslim Brotherhood to the Nour (Light) Party, different other Islamic forces and Jihad groups. The scene was set for a bloody showdown.

On 1 July the Egyptian army gave an ultimatum to Morsi to solve the political crisis within 48 hours, a demand impossible to meet, and on 3 July the army took over power again. The move was widely applauded by the protesters and violently rejected by Morsi supporters. In its violent aftermath, the clash claimed the lives of hundreds of Egyptians. A state of emergency was declared and renewed, a caretaker government put in place, a new constitution and election were promised within six months, after a period of shock and silence we have now seen new violent clashes.

The country faces huge economic problems: official unemployment is pegged at 15 percent; the Egyptian Pound has lost more than 20 percent of its value; and currency reserves dropped by more than half to 16 million US$. However, a real way out of the political, social, and economic crisis cannot be seen, a scenario for a national reconciliation process and meaningful programmatic approaches are lacking.

Coup or no coup? Or How the Egyptian Left Sees the Events

The readings of the events from 30 June to 3 July by the Egyptian Left (as well as the Arab and international Left) varied considerably amongst different organisations and personalities. I would like to bring your attention to some of these voices.

Mamdouh Habashi, foreign policy spokesperson of the Egyptian Socialist Party, wrote in a paper on 25 August 2013:

In the latest development it has become a conflict between the Muslim Brotherhood and the people, because their policies of last year, with a government of representatives of the Muslim Brotherhood, have opened up the eyes of the people to see their true interests and objectives. It has become clear that this government does not represent the interests of the people, but only the interests of a small extremist group that abuses religion for political power and personal enrichment.

In this time it has also become clear that violence is an integral part of the ideology of the Muslim Brotherhood and has always been. Now the people have decided to discontinue the Muslim Brotherhood, these respond with terror.

Since the revolution of 30 June 2013 a transitional government composed of prominent representatives of political groups was used in Egypt with the help of the military which gave a roadmap that should lead the country into democratic elections ...

And elsewhere. 'Even if it sounds reasonable to call for reconciliation, reconciliation is not the key word here to solve the existing conflict. It can be no reconciliation between right and wrong or between the rule of law and terrorism. And what the Muslim Brotherhood is now doing openly for weeks is open terror... the brain washed young people and other extremist supporters of the Muslim Brotherhood turned against the society for terrifying, sabotage and destruction.

More recently, in a publication of 30 November he stated:

In this battle, there are a peaceful people rebelling against a religious-fascist organisation with heavily-armed, underground trained militias. What should the people do in such a situation: Call the uniformed forces to help? Or for fear of abuse of power and eventual dictatorship consider the matter differently and prefer the yoke of the fascists?

The "objective" alliance inhomogeneous political forces (from the left revolutionaries through the Nationalists and Liberal Conservatives, up to the representatives of the old Mubarak regime, who still occupy the key positions in the "deep" state, not least Army and Police) has reached its immediate goal of the overthrow of the rule of the Muslim Brotherhood on July 3rd 2013...

Is the popular uprising on June 30th 2013, a coup d'état by the military or a "new revolution"? Perhaps the continuation of the revolution of January 25th 2011?

For 40 years the Muslim Brotherhood and other groups of political Islam had forced on the Egyptians their religious, moral, cultural and ideological despotism. This could succeed only because they were able to stylise themselves among the poorer sections of the people over a long time as a political opposition. After taking power they raised the majority of the people against them with their failed economic policies and anti-democratic measures...

The uprising of millions on June 30th 2013—which led to the fall of the Muslim Brotherhood—can be seen as the beginning of a new wave of the revolution, since the January 25th 2011 revolution has not ceased yet but has become more complicated. The players on both sides of the front between revolution and counter-revolution had to reorient and restructure accordingly.

The enemies of the Muslim Brotherhood were on June 30th 2013 divided into two major camps: the camp of the revolution, with all their followers; and the bearing of the old regime, with its army, police, judiciary and the whole bureaucracy in the state apparatus. The revolutionary forces have not allied themselves with the forces of the old regime (by any negotiations or something similar) as they are still struggling against these forces. That is why I call this resulting "objective", an alliance.

The uniqueness of this situation in our history and its complexity can of course be the reason for the large differences in the interpretation of the left forces in Egypt but especially on the world scale.

The best and fastest would be a return back to achieve democracy via a road map. Only in this context can we understand the condemnation of the events of July 30th 2013 by the West as a military coup against the first "democratically" elected President of Egypt. If some sections of the Left across the world sing along this West-orchestrated chorus, this is because they are not yet cured of the disease of faith in the Western model of democracy as the only true and only possible one...

And the great old man of the Egyptian Left, Samir Amin, who gained worldwide reputation for his research and work on the dependence theory, said in an interview for BEIFANG (Cultural Revue of Guangzhou, China), published by CODESRIA (Council for Development of Social Research in Africa):

BEIFANG: The fact that Morsi was removed by the military has been received in very different ways, some welcomed the change, some condemned it as purely a military coup. What's your view?

SAMIR AMIN: Such an action of the army is not a coup d'état. The western press said it was a coup d'état, but it is not, it is a wise action in response to the demands of the Egyptian people...

Since the death of Nasser 30 years ago, the top leadership of the Army has been controlled by the US and corrupted by the money of the US and the Gulf countries; and they had accepted the policies of submission of Mubarak and Morsi. But everybody should know that the Egyptian army is not just its top leaders but also thousands of officers who remain patriotic. They are not necessarily progressive, nor socialist, but they understand that the people don't want Morsi. The new Prime Minister, Hazem AlBeblawi, I knew him personally. He was a brilliant student of economics. I don't know what his mind is like today, but he's a clever man, able to understand that continuing neoliberal policies would be a disaster. We shall see.

These are clear positions. Other parties have slightly different views.

The Socialist Alliance who joined the tamarrod movement in May 2013 supported the appointment of the head of the constitutional court for a period of six months, the formation of a caretaker government composed of specialists and technocrats. In their view, the caretaker government should convene an assembly for the preparation of a new constitution and presidential and parliamentary elections. They recommended the establishment of an all-party council to supervise these processes. The Alliance also spoke out for the creation of People's Committees in order to ensure broad political participation. They refused the return of the army to power, its control of the government and its interference with the political life.

The Revolutionary Socialists made three demands that they wanted to be fulfilled before 30 June. First, the immediate start of a process leading to social justice for the poor and small-income earners who had suffered both under Morsi and the army who ruled before him. Second, to convene a representative assembly to prepare a 'civil' constitution. And finally, legislation which would create a legal system in which the Muslim Brothers, military leaders, and supporters of the Mubarak regime could be held responsible for the crimes they had committed.

The National Salvation Front (NSF), the most important secular opposition force to which all the aforementioned parties belong, took a rather passive position. They have not criticised the road map proposed by the army and does not try to put any pressure on the military. While this might weaken their position in a future power struggle, for the time being, they provide some political cover for the military rulers.

In Syria, the situation before the outbreak of the civil war was different from that in Egypt. Syria is one of the countries that have followed the Soviet model. This was reflected in the dominant role played by ideology, the leading role of the Baath party, which fully monopolised the political life and derived its legitimacy from national and pan-Arab rhetoric.

Privatisation, market liberalisation and the decline in the social role of the state led to a deep political, economic and social crisis. In the Arab Human Development Report 2012, the UNDP estimated that a huge 66 percent of Syrians live below the poverty line and that there is a high level of unemployment at about 25 percent of the labour force. This is combined with a high population growth rate, considered one of the highest worldwide, reaching up to 3.5 percent annually.

The situation further deteriorated when the government re-monopolised the public space and closed off possibilities of dialogue between different political groups after realising the danger arising from the short period of openness which coincided with Bashar al-Assad's ascent to power, a phase which was believed to be the "Damascus Spring." All this led to the weakening of the country's political institutions, including the trade unions.

When first events broke out in the city of Deraa in March 2011, the regime reacted with an 'iron fist,' thus triggering a vicious circle of violence, first in the south of the country, then spreading to other parts. The Assad regime thus encouraged those opposition forces who were prepared to resort to an armed struggle and, at the same time, widely destroyed the base for a bitterly needed inner-Syrian dialogue.

The reforms started by the regime—from price reduction to a referendum on the Constitution—were just too little, too late.

The West soon supported opposition forces in order to bring about regime change with the aim to also weaken the position of Assad's main allies, Iran on the one hand and Russia on the other. Also, the West wanted to get rid of the last Soviet-style regime in the region, after similar governments had been brought down in Iraq and Libya with military engagement and support of the West.

The European Union approved a number of sanctions against the Assad regime. The Syrian National Council was recognised by the EU foreign ministers in February as the legitimate representative of the Syrians. The Free Syrian Army was seen as the military wing of the opposition and gained support not only from Turkey but also from other countries.

After more than two years of the popular uprising, the current Syrian political landscape today looks divided along two factions: a regime with an illusion that its military option is capable of ending the revolution. Recent military successes of the Assad troops who were supported from Hizbollah fighters from Lebanon nourish such hopes.

On the other hand, there is an emerging, albeit scattered opposition, with a political wing living outside the country and a military wing controlling large areas of the country but coming more and more under the influence of Sunnite Islamists like the Nusra front.

More than half of the Syrians are suffering in different ways; tens of thousands were killed, wounded and mutilated; there are thousands of missing and detained persons; and there are huge numbers of refugees and internally displaced people. The huge number of Syrian refugees in neighbouring countries marks another difference from Egypt, where the conflict did not produce displacement and refugees of a comparable magnitude.

This tragic situation becomes even worse with the deterioration of social and economic conditions in the country. The ongoing war created a huge impact on agriculture and the transport of agricultural products to the markets. In turn, the scarcity of raw materials led to the collapse of the country's industry. Hundreds of factories were closed or reduced their production and thousands of workers were laid off. The tourism sector completely ceased to exist. There are no new investment opportunities and most of the investment projects that were started before the war were disrupted. The Syrian pound's purchasing power (the Syrian pound lost 70% of its value against the US$) and the collapse of education and health services have led to the deterioration in the living conditions of the people.

It is important to note that the Syrian working class has witnessed a transformation in its realities and in its awareness of itself as a class governed by similar social conditions, demands and common goals. The role of this class has also been kept afloat when the so-called unified labour law was passed and thus government employees became part of this working class. Political parties, presenting themselves as representatives of the working class, were subjugated and the independence of trade and professional unions was marginalised. This is not to mention the end of the socialist dream with the collapse of the Soviet model.

The challenges facing Syria today are of an exceptional nature. These challenges are not only those related to guaranteeing freedom of opinion and political activism, improving economic development rates and raising wage levels, ensuring citizens' rights and the provision of social safety nets for the needy, but also finding an end to rampant violence, preventing the country from drifting towards grave and prolonged civil war, partition and the establishment of ethnic or sectarian cantons, including the growing role of the infidelisation groups (Takfir Groups), seeking, with external support, to divert the revolution from its goals of building a democratic state for all of its citizens, and protecting against the various interventions of external forces in the Syrian national affairs, especially as the country is becoming an arena for regional conflicts and for the settling of international forces' accounts.

Conclusions

The situation in the region is characterised by a confrontation between secular forces on the one hand. These derive their values partly from the ideas of the French Revolution, the enlightenment and so on, and—to a certain extent—by what usually is called 'Western values.' The other part is driven by a somewhat undefined revolutionary spirit, the interest of the people without telling exactly where it all should lead to.

On the other hand, we have a part of the population who—at least to some extent—wish to base their lives on the rules and laws of Islam not only to be seen as a faith but also as a principle and pattern for organising societies. In this, there is a strong element of rejecting the 'Western way.' But it has also a strong element of securing political power and economic dominance by using religious slogans and covers.

In this context, it is interesting to note that in economics many of the Islamic proponents take very liberal—not to say neo-liberal position—when it comes to economic strategies. In the capitalist approach they can find common ground with Western economic interests.

In no country of the region a long-term solution has been found of an inclusive nature, meaning a solution which would—on whichever basis—reconcile the two camps.

What we have today is either a situation where one side suppresses the other by the use of power and violence, military and police force, secret services, paramilitary groups and the like—e.g. Egypt, Iran, Arab Peninsula—or where undecided power struggles and instability exist and where the countries are divided in influence spheres of different groups—e.g. Iraq, Libya, Afghanistan. Fanaticism and violence of all kinds prevail.

One should keep in mind that almost all of these states come out of a colonial past, that their statehood has always been fragile and that they lack modern democratic structures. For me, this by far does not only mean the lack of elections and formal democratic elements like parliaments and local councils but rather the lack of principles such as the separation between state, religion and economy, as well as the lack of a civil society through which people have the right to participate in decision making and freely voice their interests even when they are contradictory to government policies and the decisions of the rulers. What we have in overabundance is exclusion (and here, first of all, women deserve first mention); the imposition of the will of the powerful; patriarchy; and the dominance of small elites. This finds its expression in systems like kingdoms, rule of autocratic presidents or the military or a combination of both, or Soviet-type one party rule with small elite controlling the party.

What we have seen in Egypt illustrates this. The Muslim Brothers, although democratically elected, tried to change the country, its constitution, its legislation, and its public life more and more only in their own interest. In the process, they neglected the democratic rights, aspirations and interests of the secular camp. The response was a military coup d'état which by very many in the secular camp—from the whole spectrum of left to right—is not seen as such but as the execution of the people's will through the best instrument available, namely, the army. The argument was that this had prevented the eruption of a civil war and, consequently, of more bloodshed. This is not very democratic, either.

The West has maneuvered itself in a very delicate position. In order to secure its economic, political and geostrategic interests in the region, to exploit its resources and to suppress the political enemy, the West for decades followed a double-strategy. In parts of the 'Broader Middle East,' it promoted and supported the rule of secular dictators who helped to secure Western interests, suppress Islamists and Communists and push back Soviet influence in the period of the Cold War.

After the fall of the Soviet Union and the end of the Cold War, the West then 'inherited' secular regimes of a different type, namely those that used to share close ties with the Soviet Union and the Socialist camp—e.g. Iraq, Libya, Syria. These always remained suspicious for the West. In my understanding they had the 'bad dictators.' It is interesting that the West was willing to use their own military capabilities—or at least threaten to use it—in order to bring down these regimes. This is different from the events in Tunisia and Egypt where the West did not interfere with military means and the conflict was 'only' fought between domestic forces.

The second part of the Western strategy has been—for their same own interests—to support extremely reactionary religious regimes in the Gulf region. These suppressive regimes who neglect the basic rights of their own people and even more those of the many migrant workers they host, make a mockery of any Western talk of 'democracy' and 'human rights.' But they have guaranteed stability in their countries, the free flow of oil into Western economies, as well as the recycling of oil revenues.

It is interesting that countries like Saudi Arabia and Qatar, and an organisation like the Gulf Co-operation Council, are now presenting themselves as the holy grail of democracy champions and freedom supporters. This is something the West seems to approve of and applaud. This becomes more important as these countries are seen as a funding source for stabilising newly established regimes in the interest of the West.

However, both Saudi Arabia and Qatar have their own conflicting agendas in the region. Both aspire to the role of a regional power with different allies but sometimes identical goals as e.g. in Syria. While the Saudis support Salafist groups, Qatar is close to the Muslims Brothers all over the region. Or in terms of funding: The Muslim Brothers received generous support from Qatar while they were in power in Egypt. The Saudis support the new military regime in Cairo even more generously, and Qatar funded 'Al Jazeera' is in terrible rage. In this controversy, Qatar presents itself a modern and open society, not the least through all the sports events it hosts already and—of course—the 2022 Football World Cup, while the Saudi regime with its Wahhabi ideology looks a bit dated and unfashionable in the 21st century.

In my view, the relationship of the West with the Islamist governments in Tunisia and Egypt was, and is, tactical. The main purpose to get involved with them can be described by the Western interests I mentioned before—add some, if you like. As long as the Islamists tolerate the principles of a free market economy, do not affect geostrategic interests—I just mention Israel, Iran, the Suez Canal, oil—and do not interfere with the West in the international political arena, then they remain acceptable. But the Islamist will not be the new long-time preferred ally of the West in the region as suggested by some, also among the Left. Historical, social, cultural, ethnic and other differences are just too big for that and record of conflicts, clashes, wars and distrust just too long to support such an idea. The fact that the West supported or tolerated the coup d'état in Egypt may be seen as an indication.

I am afraid the Left will be among the losers in this ongoing conflict. Leftist groups with different political agendas played a big role in overthrowing the regimes in Tunisia and Egypt. But they clearly lost in the elections against the Islamic forces. One of the main reasons is that the Left—once again, and characteristically enough—was scattered and unable to overcome their differences and join forces in the beginning democratic process and the elections. Their efforts produced rather meagre results. Many of the Left later welcomed the military coup d'état in Egypt as a victory of the secular forces over the 'evil.' They seem to equate secularism with democracy. My fear is this equation will prove to be wrong and they will lose the few democratic, and political, and trade union rights they won in the first stages of their uprising.

Nevertheless, the people of the Middle East have learnt valuable lessons from the recent chapters in their contemporary history: that no regime is forever, that resistance can work, and change and revolution is possible.

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4

**Democracy and Rising Inequalities in India**

Zoya Hasan

The success of India's democracy has evoked much interest not the least because the country is one of the poorest in the world in terms of per capita income, but it is also the world's largest liberal democracy. Indians are not alone in celebrating their success story, scripted by attempts at marrying political freedom with economic progress. Recent accounts from Western analysts and observers speak vividly about a so-called 'rising India' which can counterbalance China.[1] India is indeed rising: for the aspiring as well as the already privileged classes and the middle classes. At the same time, there are huge inequalities in income, wealth, consumption, access to education, health care and decent work. This raises the broader question: How and why could such dramatic inequalities persist in a democracy in which voters create pressure for improved outcomes?

The studies of India's democracy are dominated less by the politics of class, and more of the politics of identity, including caste, religion, and ethnicity. This preoccupation has overlooked the salience of class for an understanding of democratic politics in the wake of economic liberalisation. We need to go beyond identity politics in order to understand the challenges confronting India. For this, it is important to start by noting the dilemmas of democracy and development. In India, the logic of democracy and development are not asymmetric. Indeed, the two are functionally related, with each process supporting the other. Nonetheless, there is a persistent gap between the outcomes that people expect and the state's capacity to improve their well-being. Democracy, which has become a grounded reality in India, has to find ways of reconciling economic growth with the well-being of the people.

The paper focuses on three broad areas—pluralism and inclusiveness; electoral politics and structural change; inequalities and the changed power structure—to comprehend the changes in democratic politics and policy regime and the implications of this for the politics of equality. Politics played a central role in promoting pluralism and inclusiveness in the pre-liberalisation period but this did not translate into material gains for the people. The challenge has become more daunting after economic liberalisation, which has benefited principally the elite and the middle classes. More significantly, structural change under India's economic model has failed to incorporate the lower classes, setting limits on the possibilities of substantive democracy and the future direction of Indian politics.

Pluralism and Inclusiveness

The stunning debut of the Aam Aadmi Party (AAP) in the 2013 Delhi Assembly elections was another striking example of the vibrancy of Indian democracy: it is spectacularly alive, showing no signs of slowing down as a fountainhead of political change. On the contrary, there are signs of its actually gathering momentum over the last decade. Apart from a period of 20 months between 1975 and 1977, when Prime Minister Indira Gandhi declared an Emergency and suspended civil rights and personal liberties, democracy has not only survived, it has thrived and been institutionalised. There are various indicators exhibiting India's institutionalised democratic system: Constitutionalism; the rule of law; a free press; a robust civil society; and regular, free and fair elections. This has ensured that the political actors do not come only from the traditional upper-caste social élite—although they continue to have a disproportionate presence in public institutions and influence over policymaking. Whilst Indian democracy has endured, this has not been without crisis as during the period of the Emergency or the past few decades, which have been dotted with ethnic conflicts and violence in Kashmir, the northeast, and earlier, Punjab.

In the past half century, no trend has been more powerful and transformative than the growth and expansion of democracy; the social base of the polity has widened considerably through the expansion of democracy. Yet, even as these features enable it to wear the badge of a successful democracy, the irony remains that the majority of its people suffer deep economic deprivation and poverty. Despite a tendency towards social equality there continues to be a formidable gap between political democracy, on the one hand, and deep seated socioeconomic inequality, on the other. In India, the principal challenge remains the creation of a more equal and equitable society and the reduction in vast disparities that exist between regions, classes, groups, and individuals, further aggravated by liberalisation.

At the same time, the key to the survival and success of India's democracy lies in its inclusiveness. India is one of the few countries in the postcolonial world that took up the challenge of building an inclusive democracy in a multilingual and multi-religious society. This is largely due to the primacy given to equality and social justice as a cardinal principle of contemporary political life. It was agreed that procedural democracy was not enough to bring about empowerment, justice, and equality. The freedom struggle and the social reform movements prepared some of the ground for social equality, in the sense that they delegitimised the most egregious forms of oppression that characterised Hindu society. However, improbable it might have seemed in 1950, the trend towards greater equalisation is unmistakable.

The effort to pursue equality has been made at two levels. At one level was the constitutional effort to change the very structure of social relations: For example, practicing caste and untouchability was made illegal, and allowing religious considerations to influence state activities was not permitted. At the second level was the effort to bring about economic equality. But in this endeavour the right to property and class inequality was not seriously curbed.

Moreover, the placement of the demands for economic equality into the Directive Principles of State Policy indicated clearly that the political elite did not conceive of serious intervention to check economic inequality. Nevertheless, a discourse of economic upliftment was part of the process of development and legitimisation of the postcolonial state. Successive central and state governments introduced a wide range of social welfare measures. The discourse, however, did not translate into a consensus on active state intervention to bring about greater equality, except for the abolition of intermediary rights in the rural sector. The implementation of these programmes was poor and the benefits were targeted at particular groups. In the legal and the political arenas most of the constitutional and state efforts were directed against social inequality and not against poverty.

Disadvantage and lack of opportunities was seen as unjust treatment of whole communities like lower castes, religious minorities, and tribal communities which, over time, become actors and agents against social inequality. If poverty is defined as deprivation, the resentments expressed through political mobilisation are not always against poverty per se, but for accommodation and adjustment of the interests of different identity groups. People who participate in such mobilisation are poor but the basis and self-identification for their participation and action is group identity. So often, people are acutely conscious of their own deprivation but indifferent towards parallel situations and demands emanating from others who may be equally poor and disadvantaged. Such identity politics ignores the production of inequalities and class differentiation within the group and the proliferation of ever newer and smaller identity groups, each of which then starts engaging in its own identity politics.[2] The politics of equality is thus more concerned with external rather than internal equity, that is to say, equality between caste groups rather than equality amongst group members, and rather more between some groups than all the disadvantaged groups. The big losers in this process are the minorities who are excluded from this group-based discourse of development. But the greatest limitation of the Indian discourse on equality stems largely from its inability to confront the material aspect of inequality.

Electoral Politics and Structural Change

Except for the brief interlude of the Emergency from 1975 to 1977, democratic institutions have remained intact; 13 parliamentary elections and many more assembly elections have been conducted since the constitution of the republic. Defying democratic theory, a great participatory upsurge has marked Indian politics since the early 1990s. Owing to affirmative action and reservations, public institutions which were once dominated by the upper castes have had to make room for the lower castes. The 'transfer of power' from the upper castes to the lower castes has had major consequences for the restructuring of political power. The significant changes in the social composition of India's ruling elite since independence, both in politics and in the bureaucracy, are largely due to parties opening their doors to new recruits from marginalised groups, which ultimately make their way into the government. Yet, there is considerable dissatisfaction with political parties and politicians as vehicles of representation and governance.[3]

While elections have been placed on a strong foundation, the accountability of institutions, elected officials, and engagement with institutions outside elections have weakened. Even some of the procedural practices are falling apart most notably in the working of the legislatures. There are several related causes for the weakening of electoral democracy. By far the most disturbing trends are manifest in political parties which function as family fiefdoms.[4] Over 65 percent of MPs who are under 40 and who won in the 2009 parliamentary elections had a prior family connection in politics.[5] The other big institutional weakness is that parties are leader-centric and lack internal democracy, as leaders are unwilling or unable to institutionalise party elections or procedures for the selection of candidates, or increase political decentralisation in parties. There is also a close connection between money and politics. The political class is drawn from the affluent, educated and socially powerful sections of society.[6] As is clear from data on the rising net worth of MPs elected in 2009, the dominance of the rich is getting more and more consolidated in the legislature and decision-making apparatus. The intersection between the party structure, family politics, and domination of special economic interests undermine the principles of democratic representation.

This is not to deny the important role played by political parties in democratic consolidation. They have done so by giving voice to historically excluded groups, and helping them to gain access to the political system. All the same, there is a disjunction between the electoral and party processes leading to frustration with governments that are voted into power by citizens, yet are not controlled by them, and the smug indifference of elites towards governments they do not vote in, but control.[7] The rich and the powerful have devised a variety of institutional mechanisms to insulate substantive decision-making from popular pressures. This is leaving the majority of the people disconnected from the system, frustrated as they are by the absence of participatory democracy and, consequently, their inability to influence policies.[8] Even though the poor constitute a vast majority of Indian voters, they have been shut out of public discourse. Parties need to think why six decades after Independence, more than a third of the population still lives below the official poverty line, and millions are deprived of the basic necessities of life or face daily preventable problems such as malnutrition and endemic hunger, or lack of purchasing power. These are the difficult questions confronting our political parties.

Inequality and the Changed Power Structure

The strength of India's record of political democracy has not been matched with egalitarian economic development.[9] India's claim as the world's largest democracy is flawed by failures to reduce mass deprivation and promoting human development. The economy has been on a high growth path leading to growth rates of eight or nine percent for the economy as a whole in the last few years, making India the second fastest growing economy in the world. The quality of India's growth, however, is flawed, given the persistence of so many indicators of backwardness in the national economy. It has been largely 'jobless'; as a consequence, India risks becoming a two-tier economy. Economic growth has been biased towards services and unorganised industry, employment in manufacturing has not grown despite high economic growth, the vast majority of the people working in very vulnerable, fragile, and low-paying jobs.[10] Even as many Indians have benefited from rapid economic growth, it has short-changed a significant bulk of the population. The main beneficiaries are the comparatively affluent in urban areas, while things have got worse for the majority of the rural population and a significant part of the urban population.[11] Despite accelerated growth, poverty has gone down slowly.[12] More than one-third of the population remains trapped in poverty. This reinforces the idea of an elite revolution benefiting the top 20 percent of the population, to the virtual exclusion of the majority.[13]

Even a cursory look at the human development indices will bring home the stark divide built into India's political economy, clearly unable to address the educational and employment needs of the majority of the population in the rural sector. Comparable growth rates sustained over similar lengths of time have utterly transformed societies in the 20th century: South Korea, Taiwan, Singapore, and large parts of China, to mention the most prominent ones. They have gone from largely poor, illiterate, and agrarian societies to middle-class, literate, urbanised, and industrial societies with standards of living that is vastly superior to ours. However, the development experience of these countries is distinct from India's because they embraced democracy two decades after the start of their economic upturn. China and Singapore are yet to become liberal democracies. The problem is not just that the state has significantly underperformed when addressing mass deprivation but that social progress is not commensurate with growth when the surpluses available to tackle this problem has increased substantially. This is hardly surprising because in India there is considerable tolerance for inequalities. In reality, the elite and middle classes do not find inequalities disconcerting. This leads to the culture of avoidance and the political economy of normalising poverty and rationalising inequality.[14]

The key lies in identifying the ruling structure and how the rulers manage the country's many divisions. As before, the ruling elite is a 'coalition of interests.'[15] But the composition of the capitalist class has changed under the pro-business growth model. Instead of the earlier dominance of a few monopoly houses, there are many more entrants into the capitalist class. It is made up of large and medium businesses, the new entrepreneurs in real estate, finance, and information technology, the upper segment of the urban middle classes, the upper echelons among the bureaucracy, and large sections of the media.[16] Corporate capital has gained a position of unparalleled significance within middle classes and urban society, displacing the legitimacy previously enjoyed by the developmental state.[17] High GDP growth has seen an enormous concentration of wealth with the private corporate sector the chief beneficiary of the economic boom. Profits of the corporate sector have grown at 25 percent, which is among the highest in the world. The growing power of the business class is underpinned by a state-business alliance and integration with the global economy gaining momentum.[18] A business driven development model is a recipe for exacerbating inequality; this pattern of economic growth is disequalising and results in concentration of wealth amid impoverishment and insecurities marked by acute discontent and the occasional violent clashes.[19] The better off segments are not bothered by the huge social divides perhaps because the large size of the middle class acts a protective shield leading to complacency on the part of its members.[20] In fact, the new elites are impatient at being held back by the backwardness of India. It is quite dismissive of electoral politics, though it is this electoral democracy that legitimises its exercise of power.

The political class too is drawn from the affluent, educated, and socially powerful sections of society. Every succeeding Parliament contains increasing numbers from the upper echelons of society, with the current Lok Sabha and Rajya Sabha assuming the character of an exclusive club of millionaires and multimillionaires. Election itself has become highly expensive that no ordinary citizen can afford to fight an election on their own steam. As a result, the class composition of democratic institutions has become almost predetermined. This is evident from election expenditure and declaration of assets of MPs and candidates. According to one estimate, in the 2012 elections in Himachal Pradesh, the declared income of the 10 richest candidates is cumulatively over Rs. 394 crores; in the 2012 Gujarat election, the 20 richest candidates won the elections and the richest among them declared assets of Rs. 268 crores.[21]

India has always been a deeply divided and unequal society. Despite growth acceleration and impressive economic growth, disparities remain widespread; indeed, there is evidence of widening inequalities along a variety of dimensions: city versus the countryside; across regions; and along class lines.[22] Faster economic growth has been accompanied by huge inequalities and disparities.[23] Inequalities are an outcome of India's model of development in which growth was not based on industries, where ordinary people can get jobs. The most striking problem with this model is that it has failed to create enough new jobs and this is one of the reasons why inequalities have increased.[24] The highest growth sectors are construction, trade, advertising, telecoms, and road transport. In all these sectors, what counts is privileged access to natural resources and the national commons, most critically land, mining leases, property development rights, construction permits and spectrum allocation, which is at the core of the government's discretionary powers.[25] These disparities and inequalities have been intensified by large-scale corruption. The numbers of scams and scandals have been growing as hundreds of billions of rupees are extracted in a variety of ways.

New dimensions have been added to these divisions and these have contributed to greater inequality. Today's divisions run along multiple fractures—class, caste, gender, urban/rural, advanced/backward regions, and religion. The last of these divisions is particularly important not the least because the religion axis of inequality has been overlooked despite evidence that large sections of the Muslim minority are among its poorest citizens excluded from the new economy.[26] Some regions have seen impressive economic growth, but there are regions that have witnessed social polarisation due to lack of opportunities and economic and social development.

However, with the process of economic liberalisation, not only did inequality grow phenomenally, but even the egalitarian vision itself, was abandoned. With these changes, a significant change has taken place in thinking about development as faster economic growth and in the process and pattern of translation of development objectives through high growth.

However, a major problem lies with the very nature of the growth process which does not provide an opportunity for a democratic and equitable alternative route to economic development. It relies on generating growth through various incentives designed to encourage the expansion of private

capital.[27] These incentives—in the form of tax concessions, cheap loans, and access to underpriced land and other natural resources, and so on—lead to the concentration of wealth and income, and create the conditions for crony capitalism and corruption to flourish.[28] This strategy militates against investing in social welfare and in a more broad-based and egalitarian economic expansion. The socio-political interests that allow the persistence of gross inequalities have ensured that public policy—which would deliver basic benefits to the entire population—was not made a priority.[29] These policies in the Indian context would include the following: agrarian reform; food procurement; education; employment creation; changes in governance through decentralisation; and some devolution of resources. Indian governments in the recent past have not invested enough in agriculture, or in the poorest regions; these omissions have contributed to growing deprivation.

Politics of Equality

Five non-negotiable universal rights are the basic foundation of social democracy. These are the following:

- right to food;

- employment at a living wage;

- education in good-quality neighbourhood schools;

\- healthcare; and

- pension security for the elderly and disabled.

It is the failure of the system to deliver these basic rights that lies at the root of the current crisis in Indian political economy and the impasse in the politics of equality. The current political crisis facing the United Progressive Alliance (UPA) government is also a reflection of the same democratic deficit. India's growth acceleration has no doubt produced far-reaching changes in income, occupational structures, lifestyles, and aspirations. It has, however, also created new vulnerabilities in the huge informal economy which provides no social protection, igniting conflicts across the country, from farmer's suicides to Maoist insurgency.[30] The unresponsiveness of parties and government to address these issues has led people to mobilise through civil society organisations and social movements to press for socioeconomic entitlements.[31] The last decade saw a surge of resentments and protests against the Indian state over issues of corruption, livelihood and unemployment even as popular expectations for greater individual opportunity and social protection have increased.

Against this background, the UPA government promised and enacted the following legislation:

- Right to Information, 2005;

- Right to Work, 2005;

- Forest Rights Act, 2006; and

- Right to Education, 2009.

The National Food Security Act (NFSA) passed in 2013 is the fifth in a series of what might be called the new rights-based approach. These landmark decisions provide legal safeguards to socioeconomic entitlements which mark a watershed in Indian democracy, irrespective of the challenges of implementation and performance.[32] Rapid economic growth and increased public revenues have funded an ambitious expansion of state spending visible in a slew of social programmes to protect vulnerable groups in the past decade. Since 2004, extraordinary legislative changes have enshrined citizen's entitlements as statutory rights to enhance capabilities and satisfy basic needs of citizens. These rights signify a new welfare regime which has imparted a distinct social democratic content to our democracy. These rights were introduced against considerable opposition from the ruling elite. The UPA introduced these rights partly out of instrumentalism and political compulsion but also because it realised that it had to set in place some survival support systems for those who were excluded from growth.

It may be worth recalling that inclusive growth was the main theme of the Eleventh Plan Five Year Plan but it has remained elusive. It is because of the failure of inclusive growth that the state has had to resort to the provision of social safety nets to protect vulnerable groups from the excesses of the market economy.[33] The real issue with these programmes is that they are not implemented properly; hence, outcomes are non-commensurate with increased outlays. Beyond the quantum of money spent little attention was paid to delivery mechanisms or the quality of spending. The real challenge is not the enactment of NREGA or NFSA but its implementation on the ground. These social legislations are unlikely to succeed without sustained political commitment and public pressure.[34] Effective service delivery will only occur with political and fiscal decentralisation to state and local governments, supported by administrative reform.[35] This needs to be done through an emphasis on decentralised and participatory models of democracy which can demand tangible accountability through social audits of welfare services and delivery mechanisms and enhance the institutions of social democracy that are already in place.

For the most part, the problems of the development project originate with the political class whose main preoccupation is winning elections and maintaining high rates of economic growth. The real promise lies in the possibility of the electorate leading a transformation of politics, whether through political movements or pressures to reform old parties. None of India's major parties have a coherent policy framework for how to genuinely incorporate 400 million very poor Indians into a dynamic and coherent political economy. India's political class has no clear views on how to tackle issues related to concentration of wealth, crony capitalism, jobless growth, and crisis of peasant economy, etc. If the objectives of development are to be realised then the very model of growth driven by providing more and more concessions to corporate capital without providing people's basic needs has to change, or at the very least, a different set of organisational and institutional arrangements have to be adopted at the national and state level for the delivery of these programmes. India cannot move forward without investing significantly as every other major industrialised country has already done in public services.

India's democracy must be leveraged for economic and social progress. In the long run, genuine democracy and social welfare reinforce each other.[36] The combination of a vibrant democracy and upsurge of social movements ought to bring about some redistributive change. However, this has not been the case. What has added some redistributive thrust to the democracy-development model is that ideas of social justice are deeply embedded in Indian politics even though concrete achievements have been limited. Politics, mobilisation, and popular pressures have intervened to restrain rising and emerging inequalities. The possession of democratic rights has been the most powerful antidote against the rush to deny the importance of growing inequality. Greater political participation has led to a sharper sense of inequity and an attempt to use democratic politics to rectify it. The fact that the poor and the marginalised groups have been vigorous in exercising their franchise—far more so than the affluent and the middle classes—is testimony to the sense of empowerment that, in their perception, democratic practices have brought them. India's poor continue to press their case for egalitarian strategies of development.

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5

**Space for Federalism: Perspectives from Sri Lanka**

Pradeep Peiris

Introduction

This paper aims to discuss Sri Lanka's experience with federalism, highlighting the challenges to the implementation of a power devolution project in a society that lacks the necessary structures and agents. As a value, federalism promotes a government system that balances 'unity' and 'diversity.' It also institutionalises the idea of 'shared rule' and 'self-rule' between the centre and the regions. Over nearly a century of impassioned debates on federalism, Sri Lankans have explored federal models ranging from the unitary Indian model to a much broader confederal Swiss model.

However, in these debates, comparatively less attention has been paid to federalism as a process as much of the state reform discourses have been limited to a coterie of elites. In politics, as the Sri Lankan experience suggests, federalism cannot be reduced merely to an ideology. It must also be looked at in terms of a process as well as an outcome. As the Sri Lankan devolution debate has highlighted, the strength of federalism as an ideology for pluralist societies alone would not ensure the successful institutionalisation of federalism in a society unless enough attention is paid to the power-sharing process. Several factors continue to hinder the capacity of federalism to take root in the imagination of Sri Lankan society, among them: the limiting of the devolution of power to an 'exclusive-club of elites'; the failure to take into consideration structural conditions in the designing of the prior attempts at devolution; and the lack of agents for the power-sharing project in the country.

Background

Sri Lanka is a multi-ethnic and multi-religious country with a population of a little more than 20 million. Sinhalese constitute 74 percent of the population; Tamil, 12 percent; Muslims, 7 percent; and Upcountry Tamils constitute 6 percent of the total population. In addition, there are many small marginalised minorities such as Malays, Burgers, Malayalese, Parsees, and Bhoras. However, diversities in terms of religion, geographic location, and language exist even among the four main ethnic groups. Even though the majority of the Sinhala community is Buddhist, a sizable proportion professes to be Christian, especially those who live in the coastal districts. The Tamil or Sri Lankan Tamil community is mainly concentrated in the Northern and Eastern districts of the country. However, Colombo, the economic capital of Sri Lanka, is also home to a sizable proportion of the Tamil community outside of the Northern and the Eastern provinces. The Muslim community, more than any other ethnic group in the country, is dispersed across the country. They are mainly concentrated in the Eastern, Central, Western and Northern provinces.

However, in almost all the provinces the Muslim community can be found living with host communities. The Muslims in the Eastern province are a different political and cultural entity when compared to the Muslims in other provinces. Among all major ethnic communities in the country, the

Upcountry Tamils can be considered as the most homogeneous.[1] Since settling in Sri Lanka, they have had to struggle for citizenship rights for decades after independence and even today, their political and social space is controlled to a great extent by the private companies that run the plantations in which many of them are employed as labourers. While the Sinhala community speaks Sinhalese, the Tamils, Upcountry Tamils and a majority of the Muslim community share Tamil as their mother tongue.

Trajectory of Federal Debate in Sri Lanka

The term 'federalism' entered into Sri Lankan political lexicon almost at the same time as the country began to contemplate the introduction of democratic reform under British rule. Since then, the concept of federalism has always been there, beneath the Sri Lankan political landscape; it has surfaced in the popular political debate from time to time. It is important to examine the trajectory of the federal debate that has taken different shapes and forms in response to the prevailing political contexts. In this paper, I would like to present the trajectory of the federal debate in Sri Lanka in three phases, namely:

i) Federalism discourse focused on addressing the grievances of regional/ethnic groups: 1927-1980;

ii) Federalism discourse aimed at addressing the threat of secession: 1987-2005; and

iii) Federalism discourse within the framework of addressing the concerns of the majority Sinhalese: 2006-to date.

Federalism for addressing ethnic and regional grievances

Federalism was introduced in Sri Lankan political discourse in the early stages of the debates on state reform. It captured the attention of political elites who were struggling for regional and ethnic representation in the new emerging democracy. First, it was the Kandyan Sinhalese elites, and then the Tamil elites, who championed the adoption of a federal constitution in Sri Lanka. Since 1926, the term 'federalism' has been contemplated in Sri Lankan political discourses.[2]

Federalism was first advocated by the Sinhalese leaders to the Donoughmore Commission,[3] set up by the colonial government in their bid to grant more powers to the local leaders. In response to the hegemony of the low country Sinhalese in the colonial government, the Kandyan Sinhala leaders decided to demand for a federal government from the Donoughmore Commission in order to retain their power bloc in the upcountry areas (Peiris, 2008). However, the reforms introduced by the Donoughmore Commission not only disregarded the demands of the Kandyan Sinhalese but it also paved the way for the Tamil community to turn towards federalism. It was widely considered that the commission favoured the Sinhala community, and in this context, the Tamil elites began to seek constitutional safeguards for their community (Wilson, 1988: 10). It is in this backdrop that the Tamil elites began to rally around the newly formed Federal party that advocated state reform through a federal structure.

In the early years, the federal debates were an exclusively elite discourse monopolised by a few Sinhalese and Tamil liberals in the country. The idea of 'federalism' did not reach the political imagination of the common citizen early on; as a result, it was constantly vulnerable to attacks from extremist chauvinist forces. In this context, in the early phase, federalists have achieved only limited and temporary victories but lost more ground to the Sinhala Buddhist nationalism that was looming in post-Independence Sri Lanka. The decision to insert the unitary label into the First Republican Constitution of 1970 was considered an insult to the Bandaranaike-Chelvanayakam (1958) and Senanayake-Chelvanayakam (1966) pacts (Edrisinghe, 2008: 87). The Federal Party, the main Tamil party at the time, campaigned at the 1970 General election on a platform of federalism while denouncing the secessionist agenda espoused by some Tamil elements. While severely critiquing the Basic Resolution No. 2, Dharmalingam argued that his party wanted the establishment of a Federal state in Ceylon, not to divide but to achieve unity in diversity (Edrisinghe, 2008: 88). However, this unitary provision was reproduced in the Second Republican Constitution of 1978, further reducing the opportunities to address the federal demand of the Tamil political parties. In the backdrop of reduced space for imagining the Sri Lankan state within a federal constitution, the demand for a separate state gathered momentum among the Tamil youth. The Tamil United Liberation Front (TULF), in its first convention ratified the Vaddukoddai Resolution and called for the establishment of a socialist state of Tamil Eelam. Therefore, the legitimacy of the peaceful struggle for state reform within a federal structure gradually waned among the minority communities, especially among the island's Tamil community.

Federalism in addressing secessionist threat

The failure of the elites of the majority and the minority communities to arrest the Sinhala Buddhist nationalist project[4] and address the grievances and aspirations of the Tamil community provided legitimacy for the Tamil armed rebels to fight for a separate Tamil state. Following the 1983 pogrom, the armed insurgency of the Tamil youth intensified. This not only hindered the economic development expected under the liberalising project of the United National Party (UNP) regime, but it also posed a serious threat to the unity of the country. Despite the initial imposition of 'iron fist' rule, the UNP regime later showed interest in negotiating with the Tamil rebels. The government of Sri Lanka and the Tamil rebels met in Thimphu in 1985 for their median direct negations. The Tamil delegation put forward their proposals, or what is popularly known as Thimphu principles, as a framework for the formulation of a political solution (Loganathan, 2008: 150). As the delegation of Tamil rebels argued, these Thimphu principles manifested the demand for a federal constitution in 1950.[5] However, in the second round of talks, the government delegation rejected these principles.

Two years later, in 1987, the Indian government made a very aggressive intervention into the Sri Lankan ethnic conflict and virtually forced the Sri Lankan government to sign the 'Indo-Lanka pact' and the Tamil rebel groups to give up their armed struggle. As a result of the 'Indo-Lanka pact,' the government of Sri Lanka introduced the 13th Amendment to the Constitution, through which the government introduced Provincial Councils that devolved powers within the framework of unitary constitution. However, it is important to note that the Provincial Councils under the 13th Amendment has failed to introduce substantial devolution of power (Edrisinghe, 2008: 92). Although, the Provincial Councils were introduced to address the demands of the Tamils in the North and East, no government has managed to hold election for the Northern Province until September 2013.

The introduction of the Provincial Councils, however, failed to halt the violence in the country. The LTTE refused to disarm and launched into a war against the Indian Peace Keeping Forces (IPKF) first and later against the Sri Lankan armed forces. While violence was intensifying to the level of conventional warfare, the Sri Lankan government and the LTTE—who would later assert the hegemony of the Tamil's armed struggle—continued to explore the possibilities of a negotiated settlement to bring a peaceful end to the conflict.

In 1994, Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumarathunge (CBK) formed a government, ending 17 years of UNP power. This electoral triumph raised a great deal of interest and expectation among the civil society groups who were instrumental in bringing about her victory. This opened up a political space for a rich debate on devolution of power in Sri Lanka (Bastian, 1996, Stokke, 2011). However, in the backdrop of its increased military might, the LTTE did not show much interest in negotiation with the government. In this background the CBK government unilaterally presented a set of devolution proposals to regional councils (Stokke, 2011). The LTTE rejected the proposals and declared them 'insufficient.' The government then turned to a strategy that combined a military campaign and simultaneous attempt to constitutionalise the devolution of power (Coomaraswamy, 2003, Stokke, 2011).

In the end, the CBK government failed on both the political and military fronts. Undoubtedly, the People's Alliance (PA) government's constitutional making effort was thus far, however the most progressive one in post-Independence Sri Lanka. Their proposed constitution "recognised the multi-ethnic, multi-lingual and multi-religious character of the society and proposed substantive devolution of power to the regional level making Sri Lanka into a federal 'union of regions'" (Stokke, 2011: 17). Despite the visionary features in the Constitution, the drafting process lacked inclusivity and wider consultation. Therefore, and in the face of strong opposition, the constitutional-making process of the PA government failed. By this time, PA government was also facing major debacles in its military campaign, losing more territory to the LTTE. Despite all its drawbacks, however, the CBK government deserves credit for being the first Sinhalese leadership to show courage to advocate for power devolution in order to address ethnic and regional concerns.

In 2001, the UNP came to power in a context where on the one hand the country was facing a severe humanitarian and development crisis, while on the other, the LTTE had reached its zenith and was posing a serious threat to the territorial unity of the country. Facilitated by the Norwegian Government, the Government of Sri Lanka (GOSL) and the LTTE signed a ceasefire agreement (CFA) in 2002 to pursue a negotiated solution to the nearly two-decade-long war. In December 2002, during a round of negotiations held in Oslo, both the GOSL and the LTTE agreed to explore a political solution within a federal structure.[6]

However, later both the GOSL and the LTTE distanced themselves from their agreement to pursue a federal solution. In October 2003, for the first time in the history of Sri Lankan conflict, the LTTE put forward its proposal for power sharing. The Interim Self Governing Authority (ISGA) was proposed as an interim arrangement for the peace process. Edrisinghe and Welikala, criticising the ISGA state, said that it is "seriously deficient from both the constitutionalist and federalist perspectives and several statements in the preamble seek to lay out the basis for a justification for secession" (Edrisinghe and Welikala, 2008: 295). Many political parties and critics of the island saw the ISGA proposals as a legal blueprint for a future Eelam because some of its proposals were outside of the framework of the Constitution (Sahadevan, 2012: 71). As Uyangoda states "The LTTE expected the new interim mechanism to reflect the existence of what it called its 'de facto administration' and to formalise it" (Uyangoda, 2007: 17). As much as the GOSL and Sinhala extremist forces hesitated to relax its position on the unitary state principle, the LTTE and the extremist Tamil nationalist too failed to imagine a solution beyond its vision of a 'separate state.' The secessionist threat of the LTTE, on the one hand led the Sinhalese leadership to explore the possibilities of restructuring the state along the thinking of federalism. At the same time, the existence of the LTTE's threat also made it impossible for any meaningful progression of the federal debate as a majority of the Sinhalese political leadership saw federalism as a stepping stone to secession.

Federalism discourse and addressing the concerns of majority Sinhalese

This section presents the change of dynamics of the federal debate under President Mahinda Rajapaksa since 2006. Mahinda Rajapaksa mobilised the Sinhala extremist forces across party lines to not only defeat the UNP leader Ranil Wickramasinghe but also to consolidate his power within the SLFP that had been led by members of Bandaranaike family since its formation. Therefore, the policies of the Rajapakse regime looked radically different from both the UNF regime as well as the UPFA coalition that his predecessor CBK had led a few years earlier. It openly denounced the CFA with the LTTE and severely criticised all the local and international partners that supported the peace process. The lack of political will of the government as well as the LTTE and the long military stalemate set the condition right for the resumption of war in 2006. While engaged in war with the LTTE under the pretext of a so-called 'humanitarian operation,' Rajapakse set up an All Party Representative Committee (APRC) to craft a political solution to the conflict.[7] However, the bona fides of this committee was doubted right from the outset and it has been argued that the APRC is only meant to placate the international community (Peiris and Ranawana, 2007).

The military campaign that began in 2006 under the leadership of President Rajapakse ended in May 2009 with a spectacular victory for the government security forces. With this unexpected collapse of the LTTE, Sri Lanka's protracted ethnic insurgency came to a halt. In this new political context, the LTTE is no longer a player in Sri Lanka's political equation. Therefore, it renewed hopes for a political solution as one of the serious barriers to a political solution was no more. During the war, President Rajapakse assured international actors that once the war was over he would implement a political solution (Uyangoda, 2011:72). India and Western powers also appear to have believed that a political compromise with the Tamil parties was plausible once the LTTE was removed (Uyangoda, 2011). Four years since the end of the war, there is not a hint of any evidence to even suggest that the President is genuinely committed to bringing about a solution that is acceptable to the minority communities. Even if he wants to, his capacity to deliver such a political solution is doubtful as his regime is heavily dependent on the broad and powerful war coalition.

Contrary to what was promised during the war, Sri Lanka has been transforming to an ethnocratic state under the post-war political reforms initiated under the leadership of President Rajapakse. Instead of capitalising on the end of the war to reinstate the liberal democratic state, Sri Lanka's post-war politics has favoured the majority Sinhala Buddhists and allowed them to capture political control of the state apparatus in order to perpetuate their hegemony. Under this new political reality, Champika Ranawaka, a powerful minister and the main ideologue of Jathika Hela Urumaya (JHU), a constituent member of the ruling coalition, stated that the 'devolution of power' is not required any more as the secessionist threat of the LTTE has ceased to exist (Sunday Times, April 4, 2010). Therefore, the devolution project in Sri Lanka faces a peculiar situation. As much as the presence of the LTTE was a stumbling block during the time of war, the absence of the LTTE too appears to be a great challenge for advocating the devolution of power in post-war Sri Lanka. After three years of deliberation and some 128 meetings, the Chairman of the APRC presented the draft report to President Mahinda Rajapaksa in May 2009. In January 2010, President Rajapakse publicly rejected these proposals and instead said, "After the present election I am going to put forward my own solution to the problem" (Groundviews, August 3, 2013).

In fact, the APRC card was dropped even before the war ended. At the height of the war, in the backdrop of mounting international pressure due to the heavy human cost of the conflict, President Rajapakse pledged a post-war solution that goes beyond the '13th Amendment' (Perera, 2012). This is now publicly known as 'Thirteen Plus.' The President reiterated his promise of 'Thirteen Plus' when he met with the visiting Indian External Affairs Minister, S. M. Krishna. The central government of India too found this promise of implementing the 'Thirteen Amendment' that resulted due to the Indo-Lanka peace accord in 1987, an attractive proposition (Perera, 2012) as it would help the Centre to ward off the pressure from the southern state of Tamil Nadu. However, the President later denied that he had made such a promise and he said, "It was not up to him but the proposed Parliamentary Select Committee to determine the solution best suited for Sri Lanka" (Daily Mirror, January 31, 2012). President Rajapakse appointed a 31-member PSC comprising 19 government party representatives and 12 opposition party representatives for this purpose. The TNA, the party that enjoys the support of the majority of the Tamil community, has been allocated three of the 12 opposition representative seats on the PSC. However, the TNA is refusing to be part of the PSC at this point, saying that it wants the talks with the government to continue first. This has caused a stalemate. Despite the GOSL's repeated assurance to the international community about its commitment to a political solution based on power devolution, "Domestically, the president is more inclined to reject further devolution of powers than to offer more" (Wijedasa, 2012).

In post-war Sri Lanka, the minority rights discourse took a quite different turn from the liberal democratic stance. As Uyangoda states: "The notion of equality is quite different from the liberal conception of inter-group equality that emphasises political equality" (Uyangoda, 2011: 49). He further says: "It is based on the view that the minorities in Sri Lanka have no special grievances because they are minorities. In this understanding what has been portrayed as minority grievances are consequences of economic underdevelopment. They are not unique to the minorities" (Uyangoda, 2011:49).

What is thus important is to develop the economy. In order to develop the economy, it is important to ensure the political stability of the country. A strong state is the key. That, in turn, requires a strong central government. In this context, any form of power-sharing arrangement that weakens the power of the centre is undesirable. In addition, as Uyangoda (2011: 50) suggests, the Rajapakse regime has introduced another new feature to the official discourse on minority rights. This new argument stresses that "only a secure and political stable ethnic majority would be in a position to successfully address minority demands" (Uyangoda, 2011:50).

The Puzzle of Power Devolution in Sri Lanka

Despite almost a century-long debate on power sharing, Sri Lanka still has not made much progress in implementing a meaningful system of power devolution. Time and again, both the Sinhalese and the Tamil elites have accepted the fact that the federal concept could offer the best possible political solution that address the needs of the country's multi-ethnic and multi-religious society. Yet, as the trajectory of the federal debate in Sri Lanka shows, every serious attempt aimed at achieving a federal constitution has failed miserably. Every failure not only stopped the progression of federal discourse but they also reversed the debate by reinstating and hardening the centralist and majoritarian policies of the Sinhala nationalists. This anti-federalist, centralist and majoritarian ideology not only survived but has also triumphed despite 30 years of bloodshed, significant destructions to the economy and the international pressure for a political solution to the ethnic conflict. In this context, it is important to enquire as to why the idea of federalism has failed to capture the imagination of the Sri Lankan public.

Discussion and Conclusion

This paper does not aim to provide a detailed analysis on the question of why federalism has failed to capture the imagination of Sri Lankan. Instead I will describe some key factors that may be considered as the main impediments to the progress of the federal debate in the country. It is important to distinguish the concept of federalism in terms of the following: (i) political value; (ii) institutional framework; and (iii) political process. The multi-ethnic and multi-religious nature of Sri Lankan society, along with the protracted ethnic conflict, has brought about favourable conditions for the implementation of federalism as long as we only associate it as a political value or institution. However, in order for the idea of federalism to take root in Sri Lankan society, those conditions alone would not be adequate. The Federalist project failed so far in Sri Lanka as it lacked not only the structural conditions but also the agents necessary for it to be ingrained into the political imagination of Sri Lankan society.

Federalism was demanded first for the Kandyan region and then for the North and East where the majority of Tamil-speaking population live. However, when government decided to share power under the 13th Amendment to the Constitution, it chose the provincial administrative divisions as territorial units to devolve power. Therefore, initially, eight Provincial Councils (PC) were set up including one for the merged North-Eastern province.[8] Due to the intense military campaign, except for a brief period—from November 1988 to March 1990—until May 2008, the Provincial Councils system did not function in the Northern and Eastern provinces. Therefore, even the limited power-sharing experience over the past 25 years was restricted to areas where there was no demand for power devolution. Those who were elected to the Provincial Councils are not only representing national politicians but are also aspiring to be involved in national politics. To a young politician with ambitions to be part of national-level politics, the Provincial Councils represent the second step of a triple jump (Local Councils, Provincial Councils, and Parliament) to entering Parliament (Peiris, 2008). Except from the North and East, no other Provincial Council has shown serious interest in demanding for increased political power to the regions. According to Uyangoda, this lack of enthusiasm for decentralised state power could be due to the consequence of the absence of provincial or regional capitalist classes or local elites (Uyangoda, 2011: 42).

On the other hand, federalism clearly lacks public support among the majority Sinhalese community. The survey reports indicate that support for federalism is not only ethnically divided but also lacks the support of the majority Sinhalese community (SI-CPA, 2001-08; KAPS, 2003; SSA, 2003; SSA, 2012).[9] For example, the results of the State of Democracy South Asia survey conducted in 2004 shows that it is mostly the people of the Northern and the Eastern provinces that prefer the idea of giving more powers to the region by reducing the powers at the Centre. This further crystallised with the finding that over 75 percent of all minority ethnic groups support the proposal of granting more powers to the Provincial Councils while only 34 percent of Sinhala community extend their agreement in this regard. In the post-war political context, the support for federalism has further reduced not only among the Sinhalese but also among the Tamil community. The State of Democracy in South Asia report of 2012, indicates that about two-thirds of the Tamil community still support power devolution while only 29 percent of the Sinhalese community support the same (SDSA, 2012). In the absence of support among the majority Sinhala community, no major political party in Sri Lanka would come forward to support meaningful power devolution: that would be tantamount to political suicide. Therefore, Sri Lanka not only lacks the structural conditions but also the necessary agents in sustaining and advocating the idea of federalism.

However, the federal debate would not die out that easily. As in the case of the introduction of democracy to Sri Lanka, the success of the federalism, or any form of power-sharing arrangement, would greatly depend on the role played by the international community, especially India and the West. Sri Lanka is already a signatory to the 'Indo-Lanka pact' where the GOSL has committed to share power though the Provincial Council system. In addition, the GOSL has repeatedly promised the international community that it is committed to providing a political solution to the country's ethnic conflict. In the midst of mounting international pressure over alleged war crimes committed during the last phase of war, the President appointed the Lessons Learned and Reconciliation Commission (LLRC). The paragraph 9.236 of the LLRC report states that:

The Commission wishes to underline the critical importance of making visible progress on the devolution issue, in order to ensure the success of any process of lasting and sustainable reconciliation. The Commission therefore recommends that the present opportunity be utilised to launch a good-faith effort to develop a consensus on devolution, building on what exists—both, for maximum possible devolution to the periphery especially at the grass roots level, as well as power sharing at the centre.

Therefore, Sri Lanka would not be able to simply ignore its own commission report. Sri Lanka is in the agenda of the UNHCR's March 2014 session and has already had two strong resolutions brought against it at this international body. The US-sponsored resolution at the March 2013 session, for one, called upon "the Government of Sri Lanka to fulfil its public commitments, including on the devolution of political authority, which is integral to reconciliation and the full enjoyment of human rights by all members of its population" (UNHCR). Despite the absence of a domestic agent for power devolution, therefore, the debate on federalism would continue to remain salient in Sri Lanka until the country makes satisfactory progress towards crafting a meaningful political solution for all its communities.

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6

**What Works is What Matters! An Investigation into Successful Practices of Panchayati Raj Institutions in India**

Saurabh Johri

Background and Introduction

Of the nearly 2.8 million elected representatives sitting in some 237,000 Panchayats (assembly; the pillar of local self-government) across the country, Chhavi Rajawat may be one of the very few who decided to leave their corporate profession in order to become a leader in her native village. She is the Sarpanch (head of the village panchayat) of the Soda village in Malpura tehsil of Tonk district in Rajasthan (nearly 1.3 million elected representatives are women; the law reserves 50 percent of all panchayat seats to women).

Chhavi Rajawat may be a rarity in the country's panchayats. There are, however, from J&K to Andhra Pradesh to the far-North East in Tripura, striking examples of change and empowerment in small villages and districts. Could this be a genuine revival of the two-decade-old Panchayati Raj system? Or is it a mere aberration—like tiny islands of excellence—without having any real effect on the more deeply rooted problems of Local Self Governments in India?

For nearly 40 years after independence, India managed through a two-tier federal system of Union government and Provincial governments or State governments even though there had been many committees and recommendations to further decentralise the Union of India. Discussions on decentralisation and third tier of government are evidenced as early as 1882 in Lord Rippon's Resolution, and is also evidenced greatly in the Constituent Assembly debates during the 1940s. Later, the Balwant Rai Mehta Committee (1957), the First Administrative Reforms Commission, emphasised the need to have decentralised planning. The Dantwala Committee recommended the formulation of block-level planning to link village- and district-level planning. In 1983-84, at the instance of the Reserve Bank of India, the Central Government introduced Centrally Sponsored Schemes to strengthen district planning machinery and creation of district credit plans. Subsequent committees like the Hanumantha Rao Committee and GVK Rao Committee (1985) made recommendations to devolve functions and set up a responsive administration in order to promote rural development. The 73rd Constitutional Amendment and the subsequent attempts to promote decentralised planning—including the recommendations of the Expert Group for Decentralised Planning at the Grassroots Level (2006; Chairman: V. Ramachandran)—are other attempts to promote decentralisation as a means to achieve rural development in the country. Similarly, in areas covered by the Sixth Schedule of the Constitution, attempts have been made to invest the traditional village development councils and district development councils with powers to undertake decentralised planning from below (Govinda Rao, 2011).

The transformation of the two-tier Indian federal system into a three-tier system can be seen as a large step for decentralisation but the jury is still out as to whether it is the same leap for democracy. It is also difficult to discern a clear nexus between decentralisation and development. And the one problem to assess is the sheer scale of this third layer—over 237,000 village councils, nearly 6,300 block councils, and nearly 590 district councils, all create such a mammoth landscape that makes it difficult to establish any sort of impact, or causal relationships. Together, these institutions have added to the 500 or more members of Parliament and nearly 5,000 state representatives leading to approximately three million elected representatives in the country. Of these, the amendments stipulate that nearly half, or about 1.4 million, shall be women and nearly a third of total (~900,000) are required to be members of the former untouchable and tribal communities. These two groups are described in the Constitution as the Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes, and are referred to in common parlance as "SCs/STs." In adding so many people to the political map of India, the Constitution has considerably increased the representative density of the Indian polity. It now comprises a large number of institutions and representatives, spread over a vast geographical, political, and social landscape.

Intuitively, it may appear that a lower density of population per panchayats indicates better governance and decentralisation. However, evidence on the contrary indicates that even dense panchayats like those in Kerala have been able to exhibit striking examples of efficiency and effectiveness. It is to be noted that the panchayat does not represent one village alone but a number of habitations in a geography. In J&K, for example, the 1,843 persons per panchayat are spread over 54 sq. km., while 8,837 persons per panchayat in Bihar belong to different habitations spread in just 11 sq. km.

In the scale of things, whatever information is gathered of the actual working of local government can at best be regarded as episodic. However, if the same pieces of evidence can be read within a framework of some unique elements of the design of the amendments, the events may not appear to be unique or merely anecdotal but may represent a larger socio-political truth. As an example of the difficulty of interpreting evidence, is the rise of violence towards untouchables and tribal people (Dalits and Adivasis) over the last two decades which may be interpreted as dominant castes defending their traditional privileges or a struggle by Dalits to shake off centuries of oppression and humiliation, a struggle made possible by the "opportunity space" created by the political reforms. In short, is this body of evidence a measure of the success of decentralisation with respect to the long term, in which the goal of equal citizenship becomes more attainable or a failure with respect to the short term in which lives are lost, homesteads burnt, and women raped? (Ronald deSouza, 2003).

Without going into the pros and cons and discussing much of the problems of the Panchayati Raj system in India, this paper attempts to make an analysis around some of the key design elements of the 73rd and 74th Amendment which were embedded to have more far-reaching consequences than just expanding the scale and scope of democracy. It then assesses them through some examples where the system worked. In the end, the paper would try and identify levers which made those examples work and evaluate whether the reasons are limited to the successful example contexts and geographies or have elements of countrywide replication.

Unique Design Elements of 73rd and 74th Amendment

Before we explore the examples of Panchayati Raj Institutions, it would be worthwhile to understand that the amendments were driven not by the demands of social or political movements, or pressures from below for delivery of public goods, but by the concerns of the policy community and the political elite for improving governance, especially in rural India (Singh, 1997).

Rural power in India is constituted along three axes. First is the caste system, which governs relations between individuals, and even more between groups, through its principles of segmentation (Sabherwal, 2005), exclusion, and humiliation (Guru, 2000). Second is patriarchy, which defines the terms of gender relations, especially in the public domain. Patriarchy gives women a subservient role, denying them the benefits of equal citizenship (Menon, 1999). Third is land, which provides the material basis for social life and sets the conditions for a social exchange that exhibits a feudal character in many parts of the countryside. Access to land, and the struggle over it, is of fundamental importance for the livelihood of the majority of the population.

In addition, there was a growing perception that the developmental state, had failed to deliver. This was seen in terms of the insensitivity, casualness, lack of accountability, and inertia of the delivery process[1] (Ronald deSouza, 2003), and the ability of the rural elite, to corner the opportunities of the various government schemes. Centralised planning, it was felt, had not solved the "basic problems of poverty, unemployment and inequality" (Mishra, 1997).

The amendments therefore built in some interesting elements or innovations not only to control corruption, provide fiscal autonomy, improve operational efficiency, and create enabling conditions for development, but in order to address more deeply rooted social problems which often restrict proper implementation, equitable access and distribution, engagement of all social classes and gender in decision-making and planning.

First was breaking the hold of the rural elites over resource use and distribution by giving a greater say to hitherto disadvantaged groups in the distribution of state welfare schemes. The reservation of a proportion of seats for women and the oppressed (Dalits and Adivasis) in the panchayat together with the reservation of a certain number of chairperson (sarpanch) posts, created an opportunity to make claims on social resources (i.e., not just the money available from the state-sponsored schemes but also resources of the village such as water and common pastures), including a say on how these resources should be distributed through the involvement of marginalised groups in the planning, implementation, and monitoring of the developmental processes. This strategy of using affirmative action, and giving the women, Dalits, and Adivasis access to the "symbolic capital" needed in their struggle for a just order, was revolutionary. The amendments created the institutional opportunity, in furthering the goals of an inclusive democracy (Ronald deSouza, 2003).

The empowerment of women was proposed not because they were denied "equality of opportunity" by patriarchal structures but because they were seen as agents who would use rural resources in a more sustainable manner. Because they were also presumed to be less susceptible to corruption, women were expected to better contribute to the all-round development of the village. The democratic dividends of decentralisation were therefore seen as secondary consequences, not primary goals, of the empowerment of women. The development goal was primary.

The second innovation was institutionalising the process of preparation of integrated plans for both rural and urban areas in a district through the mechanism of the district planning committee (DPC). The assumption was that participation leads to involvement of stakeholders and results in the egalitarian distribution and use of social resources. The other objective of the DPCs was education for a large number of people about government programs and schemes and their engagement in improving them further.

The third innovative feature was the creation of two new commissions: the State Election Commission (SEC) and State Finance Commission (SFC). The SEC's task was similar to that of the Central Election Commission (CEC), i.e. to superintend, direct, control, and conduct all elections to the panchayats and nagar palikas in a free and fair manner. The long-term benefit of SECs was two-fold: (a) SECs will produce countervailing power to the dominant power structure because the hitherto excluded castes will now be able to use the vote to increase their bargaining power; and (b) will also make local representatives more accountable and responsive to local needs because the distance between elected and elector is much less than is the case with higher tiers of representative government. The SFC was envisaged as its recommendations will, over time, come to be regarded as the baseline for discussions on the fiscal aspects of decentralised governance.

The fourth innovation was the institutionalisation of the village assembly (gram-sabha), where all adult members of the village come and deliberate on issues pertaining to the village. The list of 13 functions gives the village assembly (gram-sabha) a fairly wide jurisdiction (Ronald deSouza, 2003). The rationale for the creation was not just that of extending democracy downwards, or of expanding participation, but also of combining representative with direct democracy and thereby drawing on the benefits of both. The village assembly was to serve as a watchdog, checking on the working of the village council (gram-panchayat) (R.C. Choudhury, 1999). The creation of such an opportunity for debate, a deliberative space which is open to all, without any restrictions because of caste, class, or gender, was a radical step.

Good Practices and Cases Transforming the Panchayats

It is one thing to change the law; it is another to transform actual practice. Although local governments have a constitutional status they are unable to function as units of self-government. In actual practice, the institutional structure that has so far emerged is subservient to the second tier of government, which have retained numerous powers like the power to make rules, to make changes in the content of schedules, to appoint officials, to dismiss the sarpanch, to cancel resolutions or decisions of panchayats, to dissolve panchayats, to inspect records/works, and so on. They therefore violate the basic federal principle that no order of government should be subordinate to another. Further, local governments have no power to legislate, nor have they the capacity to approach the courts to rule upon disputes over the respective constitutional powers of the second and third tiers of government. So while we may see a degree of political decentralisation, it is unlikely that we will witness fiscal or administrative decentralisation of powers and functions (Jha, 2002).

Although the general performance of panchayats in promoting inclusive development has not been impressive, there are cases like Kerala or West Bengal where decentralisation is considered to have promoted development and gets to be mainly attributed to successful asset redistribution through land reforms. Similarly, there are instances of panchayats in Karnataka taking initiatives to provide water supply or People's Plan Movement in Kerala showcasing developmental efforts to accelerate growth, and ensuring better service delivery or promote development in a systematic manner. It is important to understand from these examples the favourable conditions and the ingredients which made them deliver better and become effective catalysts in development.

Planning in Kerala: 'People's planning campaign' (Janakeeya Aasoothranam)

The 'People's Planning Campaign' (Janakeeya Aasoothranam) in Kerala is an important and notable innovation in the PRI system. Village panchayats, based on people's preferences articulated by the gram sabhas (village assembly) formulate their plans, gets vetted at the block level and approved at the district level by the District Planning Committee.

The concept of peoples' plan, entailed sequence of phases with villagers, non-official experts and volunteers participating in preparing reports, formulating projects, and drafting the plan. Several volunteers comprising of retired teachers, retired bankers, and superannuated officials from the government and non-government sector helped to assess resources of the panchayats and preparation of reports. Various development seminars were also organised. Voluntary technical groups comprising of retired technical experts and professionals, appraised the projects and plans of the local bodies (Thomas, 2000).

The support and political will of the state government (Tier II) to devolve 33 percent of the states' plan budget for spending on development projects formulated by the panchayats also added to the enthusiasm of the movement. The decentralised planning continued even after the change in the party in power, as it created tremendous political goodwill (Govinda Rao, 2011).

Communication and incentives: The green Kerala express social reality show

Initiated by the Kerala state government to activate competition among the panchayats and showcasing the best performing panchayats, "The Green Kerala Express" social reality show was a novel method to identify and bring out the best performing panchayats. The top three were given awards in a series of glittering popular shows involving prominent entertainers, including film personalities.

The winners have been innovative, both in the way that they have run conventional programmes (deliberate slowing down of the NREGA to prevent artificial shortages of labour—Elapully Village panchayat) as also in starting new ones (Adatt Village panchayat's tourism project). They have also been versatile; while promoting local economic development, they have not neglected their core responsibilities of improving civic services, or providing social services (the senior citizens club in Akathethara Village panchayat). All the panchayats focused on promoting larger local development issues and not just provision of local public services. These winners also understood the intricate economic linkages between different kinds of complimentary activities to strengthen the developmental effort. Thus dairying has been linked to paddy cultivation and marketing of agricultural products (Govinda Rao, 2011).

The state government also played an important promotional role in providing the right environment for the panchayats to undertake such innovations. The provision of a block grant with only broad conditionalities on its use was an important contributor. The decentralised planning methodology in the state, which promoted a cooperative, rather than an adversarial, relationship between the different tiers of local governments, made the convergence easier.

Sustainable development in Maharashtra: Hivre Bazar panchayat

Located in Nagar Taluk of Ahmednagar district in Maharashtra state, the panchayat was responsible for transforming the village. Inspired by the life and teachings of Anna Hazare and Baba Amte, the important initiatives taken by the sarpanch of the village panchayat (Popat Rao Bahuji Pawar), included: the installation of 112 bio gas plants to improve the health conditions of women; construction of adequate number of toilets to prevent open defecation and ensure dignity of women; and construction of a mosque for the only Muslim household living in the village. The villagers' energy needs were met by bio gas plants, with all households getting connected through LPG. The village used vermin-composting to convert animal waste to manure. Soak pits to manage wastewater were installed, underground drainage were set up to ensure cleanliness in the village and the people were taught about proper waste segregation and management. The most important initiative, however, relates to water management and harvesting systems to harness the rainwater. Much of the developmental work was done by the voluntary labour contribution of the villagers (shramdan).

The consequences of this integrated development programme were impressive. Water conservation solved the problem of water scarcity and today there are over 300 wells in the village with adequate amount of water supply. The farmers in the village have adopted crop patterns depending upon the water availability. The village has 100 percent pucca houses, cemented roads, underground drainage system, primary and secondary schools, a community centre, anganwadi centres, and a primary health care centre. Income levels of the people have increased significantly due to higher yield in agriculture and dairy farming. Not surprisingly, the village has earned several awards both from the Government of Maharashtra and from the Government of India. The important amongst these include Mahatma Phule Water and Land Service Award in 2002 from Government of Maharashtra, Krishi Ratna Award in 2007, and the National Water Award from the Government of India in 2007.

There are many other similar examples of sustainable development like those of Gendra, Attha, and Bari Sirkiri in Madhya Pradesh.

Revenue mobilisation in Pune and Satara districts of Maharashtra

Revenue mobilisation is a critical pain-point for most of the panchayats and local bodies. However, the examples of Pune and Satara districts in Maharashtra demonstrate that it is possible to significantly enhance the revenue from property taxes by introducing a simple, area-based tax system at the panchayat level. In the two districts, property taxes based on capital value or annual rental value were reformed by a simpler and a more transparent area-based method for determining the tax base. Once the parameters are specified, property owners could determine the tax liability themselves. Looking at the successful transition and improvement in revenue productivity, the Maharashtra state amended the rules under the Panchayat Act to enable the gram panchayats to adopt the area-based system. The consequence of this was to substantially increase revenue from property tax by almost threefold, from Rs. 147.56 crore in 1999-2000 to Rs. 425.93 crore in 2003-04 (Rajaraman, 2000).

Provision of Services in Village Panchayats of Karnataka

The Guttakaadu experience shows that, a panchayat can create "self-sustaining" water supply systems. The Guttakaadu system had a bore-well as the source of water, which was connected to a 50,000-litre-capacity overhead tank. The village community contributed in advance 10 percent of the capital cost. They also contributed a one-time flat rate of Rs.1,000 for each household connection. Thereafter, the panchayat levied graded water charges every month depending upon the consumption of water. To implement this tariff system, the panchayat installed water flow meters on each of its connections to the houses. On an average, the panchayat was able to generate a surplus of over Rs. 40,000 per year. A very similar experience was evident in Sanur Gram Panchayat in Karnataka.

The members of the gram sabha in Shiruguppi village, after a persistent struggle by panchayat members—including a hunger strike against red-tapism at the state government level—succeeded in getting a clean water project (Jal Nirmala Yojana) for the village. This project ensured adequate drinking water supply to the villagers.

The Malluru Gram Panchayat, for its part, took immediate steps to provide water to the poor and needy through two tankers when the village faced acute water shortage. Thereafter the villagers were convinced to pay to get metered water supply into their houses. Sub-committees were appointed to supply water to different localities, to oversee the quality of water supplied, avoid waste, and to ensure economical use of water. A "waterman" was appointed and given the responsibility of reading the meter once in every two months and collect the appropriate charges. This helped the panchayats to pay the electricity charges, the salary of the waterman, and save money to augment the water supply over time and extend the hours of water supplied to the villagers.

There are several other such examples of panchayats from the states like Bihar, Rajasthan, and West Bengal, contributing to various aspects of sustainable development, which show that under favourable conditions, and with proper design of the systems, panchayats can become effective catalysts of development.

Concluding Remarks—"What works" is "What matters"

Panchayats play a highly important role in ensuring the participation of people in governance as well as markets and in enabling healthy human development. Disadvantaged sections do not have any assets and they earn their incomes out of selling their labour. The only way they can improve their living standards is by increasing their labour productivity which, in turn, requires them to be healthy so that they can work on a regular basis and acquire education and skills to increase their productivity and market power. However, success in achieving these objectives requires the fulfilment of various preconditions. The experience of the functioning of panchayats across different states in India, and the examples of relatively successful cases, bring out some important lessons which can be useful in designing policies to make panchayats more capable of effectively contributing to genuine development.

Panchayats have been relatively successful in delivering public services in areas where the asset distribution has been relatively more even. Given that land is the major asset owned by rural households, an even distribution of assets in a village ensures even distribution of power and prevents elite capture of public services. West Bengal, for example, is considered to be a state with more effective land reforms. The revitalisation of PRIs in the state, along with the redistribution of land, has led to much greater participation of the people in planning and implementation of the various programmes.

From the policy perspective, land reform is an important complementary policy to decentralisation. This is despite the fact that land reforms have not been successful in several regions in the country for various reasons. That does not mean, however, that in these places panchayats cannot play a proactive role in development. If rural asset distribution through land reforms is not a feasible proposition then another way to deal with this is to empower the landless labourers and marginal farmers with human capital in order to give them a fighting chance to match the landed elite.

In the absence of land or other assets, labour is the only asset that people have. It is therefore important to enable them to increase their capabilities through education and skills development which can enhance productivity and increase their incomes and thus, substitute land ownership. Education also contributes to greater participation of the people in decision-making at the village panchayat level.

Kerala presents the most successful case of panchayats contributing to development in India. High literacy rate and high degree of political awareness of the people in the state has enabled much greater participation in local governance than that is seen in other states. The large pool of retired teachers, officials, and technical persons available in the state, along with the systems to harness their expertise in preparing and validating the people's plan, has been the cornerstone of the state's developmental strategy.

Reservations for women provide an opportunity for educated and committed women to take leadership roles in village panchayats and lead village development. They are less susceptible to corruption and take into account the concerns of women in allocating resources and result in improving the quality of governance and better delivery of public services.

Much of the descriptive literature has argued that reservation does not really result in ensuring greater inclusiveness of equality as the women who contest elections in reserved constituencies merely echo the views of their husbands or represent some powerful interests of the village.

However, there are a few empirical studies testing the impact of women reservations on public service delivery. Chattopadhyay and Duflo (2007) in their study of West Bengal and Rajasthan, find that the gender of the village president significantly alters the expenditure composition. In both West Bengal and Rajasthan, women complain more about drinking water, and therefore, expenditure allocations were significantly higher in panchayats with women Pradhans. In general, the expenditure pattern corresponded to the general complaints of women and based on family considerations. They show that reservation for women and scheduled castes (SCs) makes a significant difference in expenditure allocations. Both women and SCs spend more on services they want (Chattopadhyay and Duflo, 2007). They argue that properly implemented reservations can benefit distributive equity and service delivery in a decentralised system. Among the southern states, women presidents in reserved village panchayats in Andhra Pradesh perform the worst, while in Kerala and Karnataka, they perform better. Such patterns probably indicate that the system tended to mature when it is practiced for a longer time period; the reservation system has been in place much longer in Kerala and Karnataka than in Andhra Pradesh.

One of the important features of successful panchayats is strong, visionary, and committed leadership. Leadership matters in states where the literacy rates are low. While the availability of visionary and committed leadership is not a general phenomenon, wherever it is found, it results in panchayats making significant contribution to the development of the village.

Abdul Nazeer Sab, the Minister for Panchayati Raj and Rural Development in Karnataka, played a pivotal role in rejuvenating panchayats in Karnataka in the 1980s (much before the constitutional amendment). Under his initiative, the extent of decentralisation in Karnataka far exceeded that in any other state and in many ways, his initiatives were adopted in the 73rd constitutional amendment. In Kerala, too, the efforts of a group of people under the leadership of I. S. Gulati and Thomas Isaac in designing and implementing a peoples' plan cannot be underestimated. A classic example of what enlightened leadership can do make panchayats to become catalysts in development is shown in the case of Hivre Bazar Panchayat, where the inspiring leadership of Popat Rao Bahuji Pawar, helped transform the village.

While leadership in panchayats is important to make them developmental catalysts, it cannot create a sustained pressure. It is not possible to ensure that only inspiring leaders will get elected and become village panchayat presidents. In many villages, people elect their leaders not for their inspiring leadership but for many other considerations. Often, having a committed leader as a village sarpanch is a sheer matter of chance. Here again, better education and creating the system to make the information on the performances of different panchayats in delivering public services widely available to the general public can help to set benchmarks for the role of leadership itself.

Incentives for revenues can be useful not only to augment the resources of the panchayats but also motivate the community and its leadership. A certain proportion of the grants to be given to the panchayats from the state governments can be kept separate for incentivising revenue collections. The area-based property tax system implemented in Satara and Pune districts of Maharashtra described earlier has important lessons to offer for mobilising revenues in panchayats not only in other districts of Maharashtra, but in other states as well.

People are always willing to work together and willingly make payments if they see value and efficiency in services. The case studies from Kerala and Karnataka show that people are not only willing to pay for essential services such as water supply, but would also be willing to ensure proper maintenance of the water supply system to make it more sustainable.

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7

**The 3C-Model of Grassroots-led Development: Challenges and Prospects of Grassroots Democracy in Rural Egypt**

Solava Ibrahim

Introduction

The poor suffer from various restrictions on their individual freedoms as a result of unequal power relations, patriarchal social structures, restrictive social norms, irresponsive institutional structures, ineffective legal systems, and inefficient government services. To overcome such limitations, the poor are engaged in processes of negotiation and renegotiation with each other and with the state. Governance itself is an ongoing process of negotiation that requires adequate rules and structures to ensure that the poor benefit from social, economic and political processes. To allow the poor to participate in these processes and to build a democratic culture, there is a need to move away from top-down approaches to those that are bottom-up. The role of local and municipal government institutions in building such bottom-up successful governance structures is crucial, however, insufficient. The collective agency of the poor and their community initiatives are also important not only to enable the poor to hold these local institutions accountable, but also to enhance the bargaining power of the poor and help them call for their rights.

Given the recent ongoing political transition in Egypt, this paper examines the role that local institutions and collective agency can play in promoting democracy at the grassroots-level in rural areas. The paper starts from the premise that Egypt did not actually have a revolution yet. Instead, the old authoritarian system of the Mubarak regime has been replaced by the Muslim Brotherhood and its political wing. As a result, no profound social, political or economic reforms have been undertaken for a real democratic transition and for the state-building process to start. This is why there is a need to build democracy from the bottom-up, and to start with local institutions and collective agency at the grassroots. To build effective democracy at the grassroots level in rural contexts, there is a need to build on existing forms of collective agency and to reform local institutional structures that enhance inclusive citizenship and promote human freedoms. The relationship between local development and grassroots democracy also needs to be mutually reinforcing.

The next section explains why the paper combines the literature on the capability approach and new institutional economics to build a conceptual framework for the analysis of grassroots democracy in rural Egypt. Section two examines the role that elected local councils should and do play in promoting (or preventing) grassroots democracy in rural Egypt. Section three emphasises the importance of 3Cs (conscientisation, collaboration, and conciliation) for gradually promoting grassroots activism in two rural sites in Egypt. It presents this 3C-model to show how acts of collective agency among the poor can play a role in enhancing not only local development, but also grassroots democracy.

Conceptual Framework

To analyse the role of local institutions and collective agency in grassroots democracy, this paper seeks to build a conceptual framework by drawing on the capability approach (CA) and new institutional economics (NIE).

The capability approach

This paper adopts the CA as a conceptual framework due to its emphasis on freedoms and capabilities. It brings back the 'people' to the centre of the development discourse. The approach shifts the focus of human well-being from material prosperity to capability expansion and human freedoms and is hence suitable for the analysis of grassroots democracy. Accounting for interpersonal and intercultural variations and acknowledging the heterogeneity of factors affecting human well-being, the CA mainly assesses well-being in terms of human freedoms which enable each person to pursue the life that they have reason to value. The CA distinguishes between human functionings and capabilities. The former represents the actual achievements of a person, i.e. "what the person is succeeding in doing or being" (Sen, 1987: 19); the latter reflects the various functioning bundles an individual has the freedom to choose from in order to achieve the life that they have reason to value (Sen, 1992). Unlike previous approaches, "the capability approach is a wider, philosophically more rigorous way of conceiving the role of poverty reduction in relation to the full life" (Alkire, 2002: 167). This paper adopts the CA as a freedom-centred approach which views freedom in a positive sense, i.e. the ability of the person to be free to do something and have the capability to live well (Sen, 1984: 78). This freedom-centred approach is the most adequate for this analysis as it also adopts an "agent-oriented view." It argues that "with adequate social opportunities, individuals can effectively shape their own destiny and help each other" (Sen, 1999: 11). This paper thus asserts the importance of human freedoms and stresses the need for individuals to act as responsible free agents and to participate in decision-making processes that affect their lives, thus enhancing democracy at the grassroots level.

New Institutional Economics (NIE)

After exploring the capability approach and asserting the importance of human freedoms, the paper stresses the important role of institutions in promoting human freedoms and democratic governance. Based on New Institutional Economics (NIE), this section explores the role of institutions and their relationship to human freedoms. Institutions are defined thus:

The framework within which human interaction takes place... They consist of formal written rules as well as typically unwritten codes of conduct that underlie and supplement formal rules... the rules and informal codes are sometimes violated and punishment is enacted.

Therefore, an essential part of the functioning of institutions is the costliness of ascertaining violations and the severity of punishment... the formal and informal rules and the type of effectiveness of enforcement shape the whole character of the game (North, 1990: 4).

Institutions are crucial for expanding and nurturing human freedoms, especially of poor communities, for six main reasons.

1. Sen asserts that "individuals live and operate in a world of institutions. Our opportunities and prospects depend crucially on what institutions contribute to our freedoms; their roles can be sensibly evaluated in the light of their contributions to our freedom" (Sen, 1999: 142).

2. Institutions are forums for 'informed public discussions' that should allow the poor to freely express their needs.

3. Institutions affect the freedoms of the poor through their "equalisation effect." If "equal ownership of resources does not "equalise the substantive freedoms enjoyed by different persons," then institutions are required to enforce rules equally on all interacting partners by providing them with equal access to "wealth-maximising opportunities" (Sen, 1992: 33).

4. Institutions are important as they allow the poor access to new opportunities, thus enhancing their capabilities and freedoms. Articulating the "Voices of the Poor," Narayan et.al. (2000) also conclude that "institutions affect people's opportunities by establishing and maintaining their access to social, material, and natural resources" (Narayan et.al., 2000: 9).

5. Institutions are needed to complement and support markets by rendering technologies available to the poor and securing open information flows while ensuring fair competition (WDR, 2002: 3-5).

6. It is not only the structure of institutions but also their performance and level of good governance that determine their impact on human freedoms. According to the HDR (2002), good governance is characterised by the protection of human rights, participation in decision-making processes, accountability, fair rules and equality in the implementation of these rules, as well as responsiveness to people's needs (HDR, 2002: 51).

Thus, while institutions constitute a forum for the building and utilisation of human capabilities, the widening of individual freedoms also encourages grassroots participation and good governance, thus rendering these institutions more effective and responsive to the poor's needs.

Why focus on local institutions?

Although there is no doubt that institutions at the global, macro, meso, and micro levels, are all crucial for the expansion of the poor's freedoms, this section focuses only on the role of formal elected local institutions in promoting grassroots democracy for five main reasons. First, entangled in their daily struggle to make a living, the poor are not primarily interested in 'national' politics. They rather tend to be concerned with problems that have a direct impact on their lives. This is why local institutions are crucial for addressing and responding to the immediate needs of the poor. Secondly, local institutions are simply the 'closest' to the poor: Due to their proximity, local institutions can be the most adequate channels to enhance the freedoms of the poor and enable them to voice their demands directly to government officials.

Thirdly, being at the 'local' level, institutions have a rich local knowledge of their areas, and this is why they are better able to articulate the poor's demands and prioritise their local needs. The proximity of local institutions and their awareness of the poor's problems can therefore render them more effective in targeting the poor—especially the most vulnerable groups among them—which usually cannot be reached by centralised top-down development projects. Finally, with the withdrawal of the nation state, the rising role of markets and the power of non-governmental organisations, national governments cannot be expected to be responsible for 'everything.' This is why there is an urgent need for efficient local institutions that can link poor communities to the central government. Unlike NGOs, formal local institutions have the privilege of directly accessing decision-makers at the highest levels of government. These institutions can therefore best serve the poor from "within" the system, rather than having to lobby the government, as is the case with many community organisations.

The Role of Local Institutions in Grassroots Democracy in Egypt

The expansion of people's freedoms and capabilities therefore requires efficient, responsive institutional structures that protect poor people's rights and encourage their active participation in decision-making processes at the local level. To promote grassroots democracy, there is thus a need for local institutional change to promote good governance and local accountability, especially at the local level.

Exploring the role of elected local councils in promoting grassroots democracy in rural Egypt, this section shows that the inefficient and corrupt local institutional structures, particularly in rural contexts, lead to a negative relationship between local institutions and human freedoms. This is evident, for example, in the low representation of vulnerable groups, such as women, in these local institutions and in the distorted nature of voting in local elections.

Low female representation in local councils

According to our conceptual framework, local institutions should ideally enhance human freedoms, especially of marginalised social groups. To test this role, this analysis uses female representation in local councils as a proxy indicator to examine the degree of representativeness of local councils and the degree to which they encourage (or hinder) local participation, especially by vulnerable social groups.

Figure 7.1 demonstrates that local institutions in Egypt actually restrict political freedoms, especially of women. Female representation in local councils has decreased from 10 percent in 1990 to a measly 1.2 percent in 2000. No woman has yet been elected as head of a local council. The same trend can be also observed in other elected institutions, such as the National Assembly, where female representation declined between 1990 and 2000 from 4 percent to 2 percent. Only the Shura Council, which is a consolatory body, witnessed an increase in the number of female representatives who are mainly appointed by the President. Women's representation did not improve after the 25th January 2011 uprising either, as in the 2012 parliament, it was only 1.6 percent. Only eight female members out of 500 total members were elected.

Thus, although women in Egypt have the 'political freedom' to run in local elections, the existing institutional structures, cultural perceptions and the lack of confidence in women's capabilities to undertake leadership positions, restrict the actual female participation and membership, even in local institutions. One can conclude that democratisation at the grassroots level needs to help marginalised groups, such as women, to effectively exercise their political freedoms. Further institutional arrangements are therefore needed to enable these vulnerable social groups to actively participate in elected local institutions and to overcome the 'informal' social, cultural and economic constraints on their participation.

In addition to the weak female representation in elected local institutions, voting in local elections is another factor that demonstrates how, in reality, local institutions in rural Egypt fail to promote grassroots democracy. For example, in rural contexts, the voters' turnout is higher than in urban governorates. However, this is not due to genuine political awareness, but mainly due to the dominance of kin relations. In rural societies, traditional leaders play a role in mobilising the poor and encouraging their participation in local elections—however, without pushing for any real political change. Those who vote are mostly illiterate or with local educational qualifications who can be easily manipulated and bribed by the state-co-opted traditional leaders or local government officials.

Thus, although theoretically local institutions can play a role in promoting grassroots democracy, in reality, as the analysis in this section has shown, they have failed to play this role in the Egyptian context mainly because of the distorted nature of voting and political participation as well as the ineffective representation of the poor and marginalised groups in these local institutions. For these institutions to promote grassroots democracy at the rural level, they need to be inclusive, responsive and accountable. The question therefore is: If local institutions are so ineffective in promoting grassroots democracy, can the poor themselves—by collectively exercising their human agency—build a bottom-up model of grassroots democracy? The next section explores this question by examining two case studies of rural villages which sought to promote conscientisation, collaboration, and conciliation among the villagers to promote democracy at the grassroots level.

From Local Institutions to Local Initiatives

After exploring the role of local institutions in promoting (or else, hindering) grassroots democracy and local development, this section presents two patterns of local initiatives to examine how these initiatives can be means for enhancing democracy at the grassroots level. The first case study is of a communal initiative led by a local leader to enhance communal development using religious rhetoric as a catalyst for collective agency at the grassroots-level. The second case study, meanwhile, is of the example of women's groups in Upper Egypt to fight the practice of female genital mutilation (FGM) with the support of a local NGO, the BLACD (Better Life Association for Comprehensive Development).

The case of Tafahnā El Ashraf village

When the state is absent, the poor can indeed step in to provide basic services and improve the quality of these services. This was the case in a rural village in the Delta region, called Tafahnā El Ashraf. Tafahnā El Ashraf is located in Al-Daqahliyya Governorate in the Delta Region. On 3 May 2004, an article appeared in the national newspaper, Al Akhbar, giving the example of Tafahnā El Ashraf as a success story in local self-help and community development (Al Sakkar, 2004; Shahine, 1999). In 1980, the village had 4,000 inhabitants and suffered from lack of social services, a high illiteracy rate, and massive unemployment. However, building on the collective agency of its inhabitants, through self-help and self-provision the village successfully managed to establish various educational, productive and welfare projects that promoted individual and communal well-being.

In the field of education, in 1984, Tafahnā El Ashraf had only a single primary school and no religious institutes. It was the villagers' dream to establish a branch of Al Azhar University in their village. Through their cooperation and the active role of their local leadership, they successfully managed to make this dream come true. The activists managed to establish a nursery, six Azhari institutes and four faculties through their collective agency. These educational institutions were the main 'achievement' of the villagers. The influx of students to study in these institutions led to increased demand for the various goods and services in the village and led to a 'multiplier' effect, thus creating new job opportunities for the youth in the village.

The impact of these educational institutions on the village was rather drastic. Every year, thousands of students enlist in the various faculties in Tafahnā; this is in addition to the school children in the Azhari institutes. This huge influx of students had a major economic and social impact on the village. Economically, there was a huge demand for goods and services in the village. The establishment of various educational institutions also created a great incentive for the villagers to send their children to school as the cost of education was drastically reduced. As one villager explained: 'When education comes to your door, you get educated!' The main catalyst for collective agency in this self-help initiative was the villagers' belief in 'one idea' and their efforts to pursue this idea. They believed that their small village, Tafahnā, could provide free education to everyone from 'the nursery to the university.' To realise this dream, the villagers used religion as a catalyst for human agency and a moral filter to reconcile their self-interests with communal goals, thus encouraging each other to engage in these self-help activities. By thinking critically about their realities and reconciling their individual and communal goals, the villagers were thus able to use economic means to achieve social justice and promote democracy at the grassroots level.

The self-help group thus sought to promote grassroots democracy by linking democracy to local rural development. It pursued a number of goals, such as improving education, generating employment, and providing social care for marginalised social groups, such as orphans and widows. To promote grassroots democracy and local development simultaneously, the village focused on three inter-related 3C-processes: (1) conscientisation; (2) conciliation; and (3) collaboration. To encourage the villagers to act collectively as agents of change, the local leader started a process of conscientisation whereby he helped the villagers to start thinking critically about their realities and to aspire for improved lives (Freire, 1970; 2000). To achieve this, he also focused on 'conciliation' between the villagers' individual self-interests and the local communal goals. Using religion as a moral filter, he encouraged the villagers to participate in the self-help initiative not only to generate income for their families and to educate their children, but also to benefit others in their community. In institutionalising the self-help initiative, the local leader and the villagers were also keen to include vulnerable social groups, such as youth, in the management of the initiative, to ensure its inclusiveness and representation. In addition to starting a process of conscientisation and enabling conciliation of individual and communal goals, this initiative was also able to promote democracy at the grassroots level by encouraging collaboration with state institutions, such as Al Azhar University, which led to the establishment of four faculties in the village through local self-help efforts of the villagers. Through this 3C-model and by exercising their collective agency, the villagers were thus able to promote not only local development in their village, but also to gradually build a bottom-up model of democracy.

The case of anti-FGM women groups in Upper Egypt

After analysing the case of Tafahnā village, where the villagers used conscientisation, conciliation and collaboration to enhance rural development and grassroots democracy in their village, this section presents the experience of female activists fighting the practice of female genital mutilation (FGM). The initiatives were started by women in their rural villages in Menia governorate in Upper Egypt, with the support of BLACD, a local NGO. Menia is a relatively poor governorate in Upper Egypt, approximately 200 km. south of Cairo and extending about 80 km. along the Nile, most of it being located west of the Nile. It is one of the poorest governorates and has a high prevalence of FGM among girls aged 10-14 years. FGM is practiced in these traditional societies mainly to 'control' the girls' sexuality, protect the families' honour as well as enhance the marriage-ability of these girls when they grow up. The practice, however, has serious health and psychological risks. Although many community members are aware of the effects of FGM on the girls' reproductive health, they refuse to stop the practice as it is an embedded social tradition they inherited and are unwilling to change or rethink.

Given the high prevalence of this practice and its dangers, BLACD, a local NGO, encouraged a group of women in various rural villages in Menia to establish their self-help groups to fight the practice. In their approach, the women—with BLACD's support—also adopted the 3C approach in order to build a model of grassroots democracy that effectively calls for and defends gender rights.

To start the process of conscientisation, the female activists organised one-to-one and public meetings with other women in their village in order to encourage them to question the root causes of this practice. They enhanced other women's awareness of their rights to bodily integrity and reproductive health, in addition to discussing the risks of the practice. They explained that the so-called 'honour' of the girls and their families is not to be defended through FGM, but instead through education. In addition to conscientisation, the women called for gender rights through conciliation of their individual and the communal interests. They initiated their own advocacy self-help groups and collected data on the girls at risk in their respective villages. Although the women activists were themselves victims of the practice, they were keen to spare the future generation of girls from it. This is why they emphasised positive deviance in families which successfully stopped the practice and encouraged others to follow their example. They also organised communal protests by young girls in the villages to encourage them to publicly voice their needs and to call for their rights.

Finally, they also focused on collaboration with various stakeholder groups to help them with their cause. For example, they sought to gain the cooperation of the men in the community to encourage them to think critically about the practice and to abandon it. The midwives, who make a living out of the practice, were also helped in finding alternative sources of income. In addition, the female activists also collaborated with local religious scholars, since they can play an important role in explaining that the practice is not linked to religious principles as some villagers mistakenly claim. By defending gender rights, encouraging women to think critically about the practice of FGM, building a new generation of young girls who are willing to defend their bodily integrity, in addition to collaborating with various stakeholders to try to stop the practice—these women activists sought to build a bottom-up model of grassroots democracy to call for and defend gender rights in their respective villages.

These acts of collective agency might not necessarily lead to major political changes at the national level. They can, however, gradually build a new model of democracy which allows citizens to defend their rights, for example by protecting girls' bodily integrity and challenging unequal power relations in their communities, thus promoting a more sustainable and bottom-up model of grassroots democracy.

Conclusion: The 3C-model for Grassroots Democracy—Conscientisation, Conciliation, and Collaboration

Based on the previous analysis, this section presents the 3C-model for grassroots democracy and grassroots-led local development. The model builds on the three aforementioned interlinked core processes, namely: conscientisation; conciliation; and collaboration.

Figure 7.2 demonstrates how acts of collective agency can set a virtuous circle of three main processes: conscientisation, conciliation and collaboration. The model shows that for democracy and local development to be promoted at the grassroots level, three types of obstacles need to be overcome: psychological; social; and institutional. The psychological obstacle is related to the individual's feelings of indifference and helplessness. This obstacle can be overcome through the process of 'conscientisation' whereby the individual thinks critically about his/her living conditions and decides to play an active role in improving them. The social obstacle is related to the individual's pursuit of self-interest and reluctance to cooperate with others. This obstacle can be overcome through a process of 'conciliation.' Individuals, especially in poor communities, need to realise the 'power of the collectivity.' Through a moral filter, for example religion, individuals can be able to reconcile their individual and communal goals, thus engaging successfully in acts of collective agency to enhance local development and gradually build democracy at the grassroots level.

Finally, there is also a need to overcome an institutional obstacle. This obstacle is related to the poor's relationship to external actors, such as the state, donors and civil society organisations. To successfully build and sustain grassroots democracy and grassroots-led development, the poor also need to enhance their 'collaboration' with these actors in order to establish successful partnerships with them to ensure that they can call for their rights and they can hold these institutions accountable. Through conscientisation, conciliation, and collaboration, the poor can thus turn from helpless individuals to empowered agents of change that are able not only to enhance local development in their villages, but also to build a bottom-up model of grassroots democracy—which is the real starting point for a profound democratic transition at the national level.

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8

**Select Participatory Mechanisms in Turkey: The Urban Context**

Korel Göymen

Introduction

It was almost a century and a half ago that the first Western-type municipal administration was set up in Ottoman Turkey, although different types of local or municipal services were provided by a variety of institutions prior to this development (Tekeli and Ortayli, 1978; Güler, 1992). The fact that Ottoman institutions like the Kadı (judge, mayor), Lonca (guild system) and Vakıf (foundations)—which provided some local services ranging from provision of infrastructure to social and health matters in a limited and fragmented manner—did not, in the eyes of most observers, prove convincingly the existence of a tradition of self-government (Tekeli and Ortayli, 1978; Heper, 1989). Even those who contested this generalisation (Güler, 1992) had to concede that Ottoman experience in this field was extremely limited. Some of the basic reasons for this according to Heper (1989: 3) were due to the fact that in the Ottoman polity the periphery was totally subdued by the centre; and that in Ottoman patrimonialism the local notables, unlike their kin in Europe, did not enjoy extensive territorial rights; and that the Ottoman system lacked free cities.

There is total agreement among students of the municipal system in Turkey that the Republic, established in 1923, inherited a financially weak and poorly staffed municipal system (of around 300 mostly very small municipalities) devoid of a tradition of local government (Eke, 1982; Keleş, 1992; Görmez, 1997). The new political system, furthermore, exhibited strong traits of centralisation, to nobody's surprise, since it was a coalition of military and civilian bureaucrats who led the process culminating in the establishment of the Turkish Republic. The bureaucratic ruling tradition lingered: that is, the preponderance of central bureaucracy (both civilian and military) in the Ottoman polity to the degree of acquiring an autonomous status (Heper, 1974). This led to an extensive system of controls (called 'tutelage') exercised by the centre over the municipalities, in spite of the administrative differentiation envisaged between the two levels of administration in a 1930 law (no. 1580). Heper (1989: 4-5) stresses that the municipal system in Turkey was based on delegation rather than devolution; shaped by a basic distrust towards localities; with the centre adhering to the notion that the central and local governments together formed a unified entity.

Further reinforcing the centralist tradition were several factors, namely: the gravity of the economic and financial situation of the young Republic; major challenges in the form of widespread war devastation and epidemics; the lack of capital accumulation and indigenous entrepreneurship; and the need to consolidate the political system. It was not until after the Second World War—which brought in its wake major changes in Turkish society—that a major rethinking became essential. These changes include: the transition from a single-party authoritarian regime to competitive politics and a multi-party system; rapid urbanisation following a period of industrialisation and mechanisation of agriculture; and, eventually, the adoption of neo-liberal policies and integration with the world economy.

Since the transition to a multi-party system, in most Turkish cities, administrations have changed hands among various political parties representing almost the whole of the political spectrum, from social democratic to 'mild' Islam. But, unlike other aspects of Turkish society, there seems to be general agreement and considerable support for devolving of powers from the centre to local administration and a tendency on the part of municipalities for co-operation (and even partnership) with non-governmental entities (Göymen, 1981; Üskül, 1997). Thus it is possible to conclude that these developments have created an atmosphere more conducive for dynamics of governance to set in and for participative approaches to surface.

On Participation

The concept of participation has always been a source of controversy particularly because it has attracted to itself a diversity of meanings, and has had a multitude of practical expressions. It has been used in different and often conflicting contexts, causing confusion and incomprehension. Nevertheless, we will indulge in a limited discussion of the concept with the hope that the selective aspects touched upon will help clarify the case studies from Turkey which will be presented later.

Ever since the onset of classical discussions on democracy there have been, in very broad terms, proponents and opponents of peoples' participation in political life and decision-making. The Athenian experiment with 'direct democracy' helped the realisation that full participation in every aspect of decision-making was physically and managerially impossible (Fagence, 1977: 24). Much later, in their discussion of 'civic culture,' Almond and Verba (1965: 18) dwelt upon a 'participant political culture" as "one in which the members of society tend to be explicitly oriented to the system as a whole and to both the political and administrative structures and processes..."

Most of the debate on democracy and participation has been centred around the 'elitist' and 'participatory' models of democracy. According to Cohen and Arato (1992: 4) in the 'elitist' version "democracy is not defined as a kind of society or as a set of moral ends or even as a principle of legitimacy but rather as a method for choosing political leaders and organising governments." In this approach, "there is no pretence that voters either set the political agenda or make political decisions; they neither generate issues nor choose policies" (Cohen and Arato, 1992: 5). The foremost concern in this model seems to be the maintenance of political stability through institutions and processes more accommodating to considerations of efficiency/effectiveness than political participation. Furthermore, as Fagence (1977: 28-29) asserts, there is also concern that popular participation leads inevitably to a weakening, if not destruction, of the democratic order.

The perception of such a 'danger' is based on two fundamental assumptions that society, as a mass, is "inherently naive, incompetent and apathetic ... or, is volatile, unruly and possessed by an insatiable proclivity to undermine government, liberty and culture" (Fagence, 1977: 35). Then there is need for a creative, responsible, dominant ruling elite, not infested with the above 'ailments.'

The participatory model of democracy, on the other hand, advocates active participation in ruling and being ruled, stressing that democracy should allow all citizens, not only elites, to acquire a democratic political culture. Only through such an experience can citizens develop a conception of civic responsibility, learn to tolerate and cope with diversity, and assume an attitude conducive to co-operation and compromise rather than confrontation and conflict. In this model, the definition of citizenship is clearly activist, holding the key to political influence through the media of participation, discussion, voting, and through the movement towards political equality. There is also the insistence that without public spaces for the active participation of the citizenry in ruling and being ruled, without a decisive narrowing of the gap between rulers and ruled, to the point of its abolition, politics are democratic in name only (Fagence, 1977).

The debate on participation, more recently, has intersected with discussions on the concepts of 'public sphere' and 'public space.' Since our purpose here in taking up these concepts is limited only to shedding light on the characteristics, aims and limitations of select participatory experiments in the Turkish urban context, an exhaustive discussion will not ensue. Instead, we will be referring to the three different conceptions of public space presented by Benhabib (1992), namely the agonistic, liberal and the discursive models of public space. According to Benhabib's interpretation of Arendt's 'agonistic' view: 'the public realm represents that space of appearances in which moral and political greatness, heroism, and pre-eminence are revealed, displayed, shared with others (Benhabib, 1992: 77-78). In Benhabib's analysis, (1992: 81-82) the 'liberal model' of public space is understood as a political culture of dialogue which attaches paramount importance to questions of legitimacy. Habermas represents the 'discursive model' in which he emphasises political participation and the widest-reaching democratisation of decision-making processes (Habermas, 1989). Participation, in this model, "is seen not as an activity only possible in a narrowly defined political realm but as an activity that can be realised in the social and cultural spheres as well" (Benhabib, 1992: 86).

In this context, citizen demands over environmental issues, as will be demonstrated in one of our cases, are no less political than some well-established political activity like candidature and voting. Benhabib (1992) claims that this understanding of participation in which public space is not understood agonistically as a space of competition for acclaim and self-actualisation among a political elite should be viewed as processes through which those affected by general social norms and political decisions can have a say in their formulation, stipulation, and adoption. In the Habermasian model, "the public sphere comes into existence whenever and wherever all affected by general social and political norms of action engage in a practical discourse ... and there may be as many publics as there are controversial general debates about the validity of norms" (Benhabib, 1992: 87).

The mere creation of publics to facilitate participation in the formulation, stipulation and adoption of general norms or decisions may prove to be insufficient if the process cannot somehow 'correct' existing inequalities in society based on class and/or gender differences. The mere reflection of these societal characteristics to a deliberative forum may only serve as a legitimation tool of dominant groups in society. The decisions taken may represent an impartiality only if appropriate public processes of deliberation are open to all citizens under equal terms. These should include equal opportunities to set the agenda, initiate debate, to question and interrogate as well as follow developments and implementation once a decision has been taken (Benhabib, 1996).

The framework presented here manifests itself in a multitude of ways in the Turkish political system and municipal politics. The 'system' functions and delivers to the extent that local political leaders (mayors, councillors) are elected (every five years); political and administrative organs (municipal councils, executive committees) are renewed; and a degree of legitimacy is established. But due to the lack of interim consultative mechanisms, platforms where information and responsibility is shared, and absence of multi-dimensional communication, at least two types of problems emerge. One is citizen dissatisfaction, reaction, usually followed by a feeling of alienation concerning changes in urban space (affecting him/her) over which the citizen has little or no control. In this case the citizen may feel justified in directing the harshest criticism at decision-makers and political legitimacy may be questioned. On the other hand, the decision-makers may have to function in self-created 'isolation,' with little or no support and feed-back concerning their performance (Göymen, 1997). In certain cities and settlements in Turkey this situation has led to both the citizens and the decision-makers to search for a way out of this predicament. With the shortcomings of representative democracy being so apparent, experimentation with different forms of participation has been attempted. But the demand here is no longer participation with a view to influence decisions or decision-makers.

As suggested in the 'discursive model,' the new citizen demands encompass the social, economic, cultural and the environmental fields as well as the political. Dissatisfaction with the existing ruler-ruled relationship has brought forth demands to create different public spheres in which the citizen will function as a major 'actor' or 'partner.' These demands, in turn, have necessitated discussion and initiatives on a new societal division of labour, not only between different levels of state but also between the state, private sector, non-governmental bodies, professional and voluntary organisations. Out of these deliberations emerge new types of co-operation (even partnership), new 'actors' in urban life and local politics, new arrangements and structures, and new forms of communication and accountability (Stratejik Araştırmalar Vakfi, 1994; Göymen, 1996).

Case Studies

In this section we will refer to three novel types of participative mechanisms which have emerged in the Turkish urban context, namely: alternative structures to municipal councils; Agenda 21 initiatives; and attempts at participative planning and implementation under the theme of 'project democracy.' The common aspect in all of these mechanisms is that they are not based on any law or regulation but instead are the informal products of dissatisfaction with the existing system. The general law for municipalities in Turkey was promulgated in 1930 when the country was ruled by a single party and a state-run economy prevailed. Although a number of changes have since been made in municipal legislation to accommodate major societal changes—such as like transition to a multi-party system—and the more recent impact of the European Union in favour of decentralisation, nevertheless, the bureaucratic ruling tradition lingers on. In contradistinction to this trend, however, there seems to be considerable support in the polity for devolution of power, for a smaller and more efficient state and for a new societal division of labour, whereby civil society can assume increased functions and responsibilities (Göymen, 2006). The interest shown in and the support provided for participative mechanisms, which we will now discuss, attests to this tendency.

Alternative structures to municipal councils

Municipal Councils are constituted in Turkey through local elections (held every five years), comprising mostly political party candidates (although independent candidates can also participate), elected under a system of proportional representation. The councils, which are products of representative democracy, nevertheless are often criticised for not being generally 'representative,' but only safeguarding the interests of special groups, narrow interests and indulging in clientelistic politics. There is the additional accusation that the functioning of the councils is not transparent and their vision, mostly parochial. Nevertheless, there is no denying that they fulfil the expectations in the 'elitist' model of democracy.

As a result of dissatisfaction with the formal mechanisms, informal structures have sprung up in different settlements of varying sizes—from metropolitan level to 'smaller cities'—under different names (city parliament; city assembly; urban advisory council). These structures exhibit certain common characteristics. In most cases, the initial proposal to set up such a body has come from a mayor or local governor desperately in need of establishing new channels of communication with the people; and/or looking for new sources of legitimacy and feed-back (IULA.EMME, 1997). They have been supported by some intellectuals, some of whom have also helped out with the implementation of the model (Ülkü, 1996). In all of these initiatives there is an attempt to bring together the administrative functionaries of the field organisation of central government; the elected municipal councillors as well as principal officials of the municipality; and the designated representatives from political parties, non-governmental organisations, professional and voluntary bodies. Although such a structure seems to have a broader base compared with the elected municipal council, the objections with regards to representation are hardly eliminated. The relevant questions are still very much with us: who should participate; who are likely to participate; how much participation is desirable and in what form; over which sort of issues; and how can the views of unorganised public be balanced with those of articulate interest groups (Sowell and Coppock, 1977).

In a society where membership in formal organisations of civil society is relatively low (TÜSES, 1996) and informal mechanisms widespread partially filling the gap of the former, a corporatist approach to facilitate representation and participation through such mechanisms is bound to render limited results. In such cases, the Marxist prophecy that an intellectual elite may emerge to 'represent' the needs and aspirations of a client group with which it is not in sympathy, may come true. Furthermore, as most of the issues discussed within these structures relate to 'quality of life' issues (pertaining to various aspects of physical and social environment) rather than 'to the heart' matters for the vast majority of urban dwellers like access to urban land, employment and urban collective services, the attraction to participate partially diminishes (Ülkü, 1996). There is also the realisation that these bodies are not empowered to take formal decisions. To remedy this situation, 'strong' majors with a will are required to transform the recommendations of these informal bodies to legally-binding decisions of municipal councils or municipal executive committees.

In spite of these shortcomings, these novel structures have helped to instil and/or reinforce civic pride, create a sense of collective responsibility and a sense of 'partnership' in the common future and destiny of the settlement. It is also been a valuable exercise in creating a 'participant culture,' during which process different forms of representation are experimented with. These bodies which generally meet at regular intervals (generally every month), usually have their own secretariat, collect and store useful data pertaining to the settlement. During deliberations, there are instances when public space is understood agonistically, with manifestations of competition for acclaim and self-actualisation (Dirim, 1997).

More often, however, many new 'publics' are created and public spheres brought into existence, in the Habermasian sense, as existing general social and political norms are challenged and new problems tackled. During this process, the different actors get to know one another, establish new forms of communication and co-operation, and create their own public spheres which encompass social, cultural and environmental issues (Ülkü, 1996). More recently, there has been an attempt to 'formalise' these structures through a governmental decree, encouraging municipalities to support participative initiatives. So, some of the former structures have assumed the name of city councils (kent konseyleri), but there has been little change in the composition and functioning of these entities (Göymen, 2010:179). Thus what started as 'induced' development, under the leadership and guidance of a few political and community leaders may eventually transform itself into 'organic' development with dynamics of local governance setting in.

Local agenda 21 initiatives

The Rio Earth Summit of 1992 basically produced two texts, the Rio Declaration on the Environment, and an action program known as Local Agenda 21. This action program was a comprehensive document that assigned responsibilities to governments, United Nations organisations, economic development institutions, non-governmental bodies, and every institution or individual which might have an impact on the environment. It is in this wide context that we can fit in our analysis not only to the environment-related activities of municipalities but all non-governmental actors which carry the same burden of responsibility. It is, therefore, no surprise that Local Agenda 21 activities emerged as an area where different types of co-operation and partnership were exhibited and experimented with among different actors in Turkey, true to the essence of local governance. Local Agenda 21 calls upon local authorities in every country, "to undertake a consultative process with their populations and achieve a consensus on Local Agenda 21 for their communities" (UN, 1992). In Turkey there were two parallel developments in this context. On the one hand, central government agencies, local administration bodies and a host of non-governmental organisations prepared the framework for a National Local Agenda 21 Plan (IULA/EMME, 1998). At the same time, a number of municipalities, together with local informal structures and NGOs, prepared and implemented their own Local Agenda 21 plans (Aliağa, 1995; Bursa, 1996; Antalya, 1997; Çeşme, 1998).

Activities at both levels were guided by three basic principles which were either introduced and/or developed further during the Habitat II Conference and City Summit held in Ýstanbul in 1996. The first of these principles, sustainability, was adopted at the Rio Conference in 1992 and came to mean "development that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs" (The World Commission on Environment and Development, 1987: 43). This definition, while emphasising justice among generations, failed to address the question of justice within the same generation. Hence the introduction of the concept of equity during preparatory committee meetings leading to Habitat II. In the report of the Preparatory Committee, it was stressed that: "If their basic needs are met with fairness, each woman and man regardless of ethnicity, race, religion, political, or other preference will feel more able and secure, being freed to contribute to the community and to honour the rights of others. Continued injustice and exclusion can breed selfish, anti-social, and counterproductive behaviour, which eventually destroys the civic spirit" (Gülöksüz, 1996:17).

The third of these principles, livability, was contained in the Turkish National Report, extensively discussed and finally adopted in Habitat II Conference. Livability refers to those spatial characteristics and qualities of human settlements which uniquely contribute to peoples' sense of personal and collective well-being, and to their sense of satisfaction in being residents of a settlement (Evrengil, 1996). Environmental degradation, unsustainable patterns of urban development, urban transportation bottlenecks or unsafe streets may make a settlement unlivable. But livability at the same time is related to human rights issues in general and, in particular, to urban rights issues. It was hoped that actualisation of these rights would be manifested at the level of settlements and that the universality of human rights could establish a firm foundation for the livability principle in the globalising world (Tekeli, 1996).

Needless to say, these three principles are intimately related to participation. To realise the intended characteristics of a 'good' settlement active citizens, non-governmental bodies and a host of other actors, together with central and local administrations should develop a 'partnership' to tackle problems together and create a sense of civic engagement. Civic engagement embodies the understanding that all women and men have basic rights but must also accept an obligation to protect the rights of others and to contribute actively to the common good (Tekeli, 1996). Local administrations, while creating livable conditions in settlements, must also, through enabling strategies, prepare objective conditions conducive to different forms of participation and civic engagement. Local Agenda 21 activities and some other participatory experiments in Turkey can be evaluated in this context.

Project democracy: The Dikmen valley project

A good example of deliberative democracy has been provided by the Dikmen Valley Urban Renewal Project implemented in Ankara in the 1990s. In this largest (incorporating around 2,000 dwellings) and most ambitious squatter clearance and urban renewal project, the Ankara Metropolitan Municipality experimented with a participator y planning/implementation approach under the concept of 'Project Democracy.' The then mayor, Mr. Karayalçın, in an interview on 14 May 1998, described project democracy as "the involvement of all those to be affected by a particular project in all aspects and stages of the project, not only in a requesting/demanding position but actually as a decision-maker." The main instrument utilised to facilitate such a participation was a 'joint decision committee, for the Project bringing together planners, technocrats, municipal officials, the district mayor, neighbourhood 'muhtars' (elected headmen) and representatives of housing cooperatives established for the purpose (Bademli, 1990; Karayalçın, 1990; Bademli, 1992; Kuntasal, 1993; Gökbulut, 1995).

This Committee regularly met, had its own secretariat, kept minutes and a 'decision book,' and was a deliberative forum also attended by individual 'stakeholders,' whenever they deemed it necessary. The 'stakeholders' in this case were around ten thousand individuals living in primitive squatters in the Project area, who were expected to consent to the tearing down of their dwellings, to be replaced by new 'modern' buildings some time later. This also meant that they had to move away in the interim period and agree not to seek expropriation compensation from the Municipality. Such sensitive issues, to nobody's surprise, provoked heated debate within the housing cooperatives, during Committee meetings and in special open sessions with the Metropolitan Mayor (Karayalçın, 1998). During this process, true to the spirit of deliberative democracy, the stakeholders prepared the agenda, initiated debate, demanded information, suggested policies, contributed to both landscaping and housing plans and, on some occasions, even threatened to disrupt the Project.

The Dikmen Valley Project has been completed and the majority of the former inhabitants have been resettled in their new homes. As envisaged, the green areas have been considerably extended, creating a 'green corridor' into the heart of Ankara; the service standards have vastly improved, eradicating the physical duality in this part of the City; and a cultural, recreational, commercial centre has been created serving the whole of Ankara. In spite of the conclusion of the Project, the Committee has not been disbanded but continues to function, taking decisions concerning operational aspects of the 'project community.' Furthermore, some of the cooperatives whose members have been resettled in their new homes have transformed themselves into 'self-management' structures at the neighbourhood level, keeping the participative spirit alive.

Although it is too early to comment on the social structure to evolve and the type of interaction between the resettled former inhabitants (mostly still exhibiting a parochial culture) and the owners of new higher standard residences in the Project area in this now prestigious part of the City), a number of project gains stand out. First of all, by resorting to a participative mechanism, the Metropolitan Municipality has replaced a potential social and political crisis with active support; to the extent of some dwellers tearing down their own houses voluntarily. The Municipality (and the City) saved on time and money when expropriation (which usually takes a long time and is expensive) became unnecessary. The whole handling of the Project constituted a useful exercise in participation (which can, in a broad sense, be emulated elsewhere) and provided a degree of legitimacy to the concept of 'project democracy.'

Conclusions

Changes that have taken place in the aftermath of the Second World War, particularly in the political, social and economic spheres, had created a huge impact on the urban scene in Turkey. The transition to a multi-party system in 1946 meant that, not only at national level, but also at the local level, interest articulation and representation would take place, alongside political differentiation and aggregation. People soon 'discovered' the link between elected posts and allocation of resources. The sudden availability of numerous elected posts (around 400,000 only within the municipal system, incorporating mayors, councillors, village headmen and village councillors, urban neighbourhood headmen and committee members), the prestige and authority that came with them, and the 'bargaining position' provided to the incumbents, increased their attraction.

This, in turn, led to increased political participation. The mass exodus from villages to urban areas; the demands of urban migrants for access to urban resources and services; and the increased role of municipalities in providing such access greatly enhanced the prestige of municipalities and helped to differentiate them from central government. Eventually, participation at local level became more rewarding and attractive. But the development of representative democracy and extension of representative institutions eventually became inadequate, necessitating attempts to foster participative and deliberative democracy. The alternative structures to elected urban assemblies and other participative mechanisms emerged in this context. Political, social and economic differentiation, in the meantime, created a sizable and viable civil society to initially demand, and later on support, such initiatives.

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9

**Local Politics, Democracy and Participation in Berlin**

Katrin Lompscher

The Political System in Berlin

The history of democracy in Germany—particularly in Berlin—is relatively young and has been predominantly determined by external forces. Germany today is a republican, democratic and socialist state that is characterised by a complex legal system and a federal structure with strong municipalities.

Each administrative decision can be legally reviewed. Many administrative decisions legally require the involvement of citizens and stakeholders (associations). This means that politics and administration are basically interested in communicating and documenting their actions publicly. There are no comparable regulations for the economy.

The autonomy of municipalities is guaranteed in the German Basic Law. Article 28 (2) states:

Municipalities must be guaranteed the right to regulate all local affairs on their own responsibility, within the limits prescribed by the laws..... The guarantee of self-government shall extend to the bases of financial autonomy; these bases shall include the right of municipalities to a source of tax revenues based upon economic ability.

The resulting dominant position of municipalities in Germany's political system contributes to the development of direct democracy at the local level.

Berlin is Germany's largest city by far and has a special history, with its division in 1945 and eventual reunification in 1989. Berlin is the federal capital, one of the German Länder, and a uniform municipality with 12 districts. It is also an international metropolis, regional centre, immigration city and place of refuge for refugees. The Berlin House of Representatives is the regional parliament. The Senate, as the regional government, is led by the governing mayor as prime minister of the federal state. At the local level there are district offices (administration) and the District Councils (parliaments). Elections to the House of Representatives and District Councils take place at the same time and every five years, the last being in 2011. The average voter turnout was approximately 60 percent, and varied across the individual districts between 51 percent and 70 percent.

The Berlin districts—formerly there were 23, in 2001 the number has since been reduced to 12—are home to between 250,000 and 350,000 inhabitants. As such, they are comparable to medium-sized cities. While they are assigned numerous municipal tasks, they do lack essential elements of municipal individual responsibility, such as their own sources of finance and legal status. The legal status of the district parliaments—or the District Councils—as part of the administration is lower than that of the "real" local parliaments. The District Councils' central decision-making powers relate to the budget and construction planning.

The Relationship between Representative and Direct Democracy in Berlin

The House of Representatives and District Councils are elected at the same time. A 5 percent electoral threshold applies to elections to the House of Representatives. The electoral threshold for district elections has been lowered from 5 percent to 3 percent.

This kind of electoral threshold at the local level does not exist in the other German Länder, except in the other two city states of Hamburg and Bremen. The constitution stipulates that the House of Representatives needs to have at least 130 members; currently it has 149. All District Councils have 55 members. Informed citizens (citizen deputies) are entitled to vote in the District Councils' specialised committees.

EU citizens can participate in the District Council elections. The Left Party advocates the right for foreigners to vote in local elections, as well as a lower voting age. At the provincial level, the voting age has been reduced to 16 years in Brandenburg and Bremen only, and at the municipal level, in seven of the 16 Länder.

Meetings of the House of Representatives and its committees are mostly public, just like those of the district committees. Public hearings are held and the House can set up special committees or commissions that each involves external parties in the political opinion-making process. There are formally constituted committees for complaints (committee for petitions, committee for petitions and complaints) at all parliamentary levels. Citizens' concerns are then submitted to the competent administrations for review or clarification. Notification of the result is issued in writing. Online petitions are not yet established in Berlin—in contrast to the federal level. These traditional forms of citizen participation are increasingly reaching their limits.

Berlin's history of direct democracy is particularly young. Referenda were only reincorporated into the Constitution in 1995, after they had been abolished in Berlin (West) in 1975. In 2005 and 2006, major reforms took place at a time when the Left Party was part of the Berlin government and was committed to promoting these reforms. At the district level, opportunities for direct participation and voting were extended or established for the first time in 2005. In 2006, coinciding with the elections, a constitutional referendum on direct democracy took place at the provincial level. The regulations were further modernised in 2008 and 2010. As a result, Berlin now occupies second place in the nationwide comparison carried out by the non-governmental organisation, "Mehr Demokratie e.V."

There are very few obligatory referenda or local referenda. The District Council can open a local referendum on a certain subject matter if it has a two-thirds majority. At the provincial level, a referendum has to be set up if a constitutional amendment is aimed at regulations concerning direct democracy, or if the aim is to merge the regions of Berlin and Brandenburg.

The procedure in the Berlin districts consists of two steps: citizens' initiatives (collection of signatures) and local referenda (voting). A citizens' initiative is considered valid if, within six months, it receives the support of 3 percent of eligible voters to the District Council. The signatures can be collected freely. A referendum on the subject matter of the initiative is then held within four months. The District Council can put an alternative proposal to the vote. The local referendum does not take place if the District Council approves the initiative within two months in an un-amended form or in a form that is accepted by the initiators. A proposal is accepted if it receives a majority of votes cast in its favour. In addition, this majority has to correspond to 10 percent of the total number of eligible voters.

Inhabitants over the age of 16 are also entitled to submit proposals to the District Council (residents' proposal). A residents' proposal must be supported by at least 1,000 inhabitants of the district.

A request to set up a referendum at the provincial level must be supported by at least 20,000 citizens with voting rights. A request to dismiss the Parliament or amend the Constitution requires 50,000 signatures. If the request is approved, the House of Representatives may take up the matter within four months. Otherwise, a referendum can be applied for within one month.

A referendum is successful if it is supported within four months by at least 7 percent of people who are eligible to vote in elections for the Berlin House of Representatives. Meanwhile, a referendum concerning constitutional amendments or a dissolution of Parliament requires 20 percent. Within four months from the time when it is established that there will be a petition for a referendum (eight months, if it coincides with elections) a referendum is held on the subject matter of the petition (within two months, if it concerns the dissolution of Parliament). The provincial parliament can put its own alternative proposal to vote. The referendum does not take place if the House of Representatives approves the draft law of the petition for a referendum in its essentially un-amended form.

A law is deemed to have been approved by referendum if a majority votes in favour of the law and if the approval corresponds to a quarter of eligible voters. A constitutional change is approved if a two-thirds majority is achieved, which must correspond to at least 50 percent of those entitled to vote. If several competing proposals receive a majority of votes, the proposal that receives the highest number of votes will be accepted. Referenda on new elections require the participation of at least 50 percent of eligible voters and a majority of votes cast in favour of the dissolution.

Inhabitants of Berlin have the right to bring certain matters of political decision-making before the House of Representatives by means of a citizens' initiative. A citizens' initiative must be supported by at least 20,000 inhabitants, independent of their nationality and voting rights. The only requirement is for Berlin to be their principal place of residence. People aged 16 and 17 are also entitled to sign. If the citizens' initiative is successful, the House of Representatives has four months to discuss the matter. The initiators have the right to be heard in the competent committees. The procedure is concluded with a debate in the plenary session of the House of Representatives.

Direct democracy is becoming increasingly popular in Berlin. So far, 33 procedures have been completed at the district level: five of these were taken over by the District Council; two referenda were successful in terms of content; and currently there are two pending referenda. At the provincial level, 28 procedures have been completed: two of these were taken over by the House of Representative; one referendum was successful; and three referenda are pending. Previously, most procedures of direct democracy had not been successful and were rarely incorporated into the policy of the rulers; even when they were, it was more often at the local than at the provincial level.

The Berlin regulations are still under discussion. In particular, the amount of the approval quorum at the provincial level is the target of criticism. However, there is increasing support for more direct democracy. It is indispensable in a modern, thriving democracy. Recently, Munich's application for the 2022 Olympic Winter Games failed because citizens voted against it. Current coalition negotiations also include the introduction of nationwide referenda.

Three Examples of Local Democracy in Berlin

There are numerous instruments facilitating citizens' participation: some are on a statutory basis, others are at the initiative of committed citizens, and still others are selectively created by politicians or the administration. The following cases are examples of how local democracy contributes to social development.

Lichtenberg—A Berlin district transforming itself into a citizens' community

Lichtenberg was the first Berlin district to have a left-wing mayor, who was elected in 1995. Right from the beginning, the expansion of citizen participation has been a major concern of left-wing local government policy. Since 2001, the model of the "Lichtenberg citizens' community" has been systematically developed. This involved, and continues to involve, mobilising and empowering politics, administration and citizens to achieve common goals in community development. A sustainable civil society thrives on participatory opportunities for all inhabitants, effective district work and good conditions for citizens' involvement. If local government policy is to better correspond to local needs, it has to be increasingly oriented to the relevant district. Civil engagement is also a central part of the concept.

At that time, in my capacity as city counsellor, I appointed a project advisory board for the city development program, named, "Stadtumbau Ost" (Urban Redevelopment East). The main topics were dealing with children's facilities and schools that were no longer used, and upgrading public spaces (streets, places, green areas, etc.). The advisory board was composed of experts, residents, local politicians, representatives of other advisory boards, and local representatives of the housing industry. Involving them in concrete decision-making processes—that is, how much money is spent and what for—increases their motivation and promotes serious discussion about the content of the program. At first, the advisory board was viewed with scepticism, and the extra effort it entailed was criticised. However, people eventually realised that projects prepared in this way tended to gain wider acceptance.

Thanks to area coordination and neighbourhood centres, the structure of local communication and cooperation is now working well. In the district administration, the mayor is responsible for area coordination. The neighbourhood centres are operated by voluntary organisations and receive public funding. Together, they maintain contact with citizens and local institutions, provide counselling when problems arise, support the self-organisation of citizens, and accompany important projects being implemented by the administration. Each of the five district regions has as many as approximately 50,000 inhabitants. It is obvious, then, that not every single local problem or citizen concern can be dealt with. Nonetheless, this structure certainly strengthens proximity to the citizens.

The first Berlin participatory budget was implemented in Lichtenberg in 2005, and has since been seen as a flagship project across Germany. Here, a wide-ranging dialogue is held between citizens on the so-called taxable expenditure in the district budget (in 2010: EUR 38 million of a total of 640 million). The local parliament decides on citizens' proposals. Politics and local authorities make public how the citizens' proposals are dealt with in practice. Since the implementation of accepted proposals can take several years, complementary neighbourhood funds of EUR 5,000 were established for each of the 13 Lichtenberg neighbourhoods. Currently, there are approximately 400 proposals in the 2013 participatory budget, and voting will take place in spring 2014.

Following the Berlin elections in 2011, the districts of Friedrichshain-Kreuzberg, Charlottenburg-Wilmersdorf, Tempelhof-Schöneberg and Marzahn-Hellersdorf are also discussing the new drafting or introduction of a participatory budget.

Functioning of the participatory budget:

- District revenue and expenditure is made comprehensible to the inhabitants.

- The participatory budget is incorporated into the regular process of drafting the budget.

- The participatory budget comprises all taxable district services, without compulsory expenditure.

- The participatory budget has clear and simple regulations and takes place annually.

\- A supervisory and advisory committee composed of representatives of civil society, politics and administration ensures a transparent, citizen-based and practicable procedure.

- Within the framework of the participatory budget, all ideas are discussed and weighted publicly.

\- By allowing different, low-threshold participation opportunities, the participatory budget ensures that as many people as possible can participate.

- The district issues reports on the treatment of proposals.

The Left Party lost votes in the 2011 elections, and now no longer heads the district. However, complex participation is firmly anchored and sustainable.

Mediaspree versenken—Referendum takes a stand against commercial urban development

Planning and construction are key local-political fields of action. In construction planning, citizen participation is explicitly provided for by law. According to the German Building Code (Baugesetzbuch), municipalities have planning competence for urban development, and in addition, there are formalised participation steps in land use and development planning. Citizens can participate right from the beginning of the planning process. Also, shortly before completion, planning documents are made available to the public. Notification is given in the manner customary to the area (in Berlin, through newspaper advertisements), and these documents are usually available for inspection for four weeks.

During this period, citizens can make oral or written suggestions concerning the planning. These suggestions are then evaluated by the urban planning authority and the results submitted to the local government for decision. After that, the procedure can be continued in accordance with the former, or else, modified planning goals. If modifications are substantial, the participation needs to be repeated. The decision regarding the plan rests with the Parliament and is only binding for the authorities (land use planning) or third parties (development planning) once it has been approved by Parliament. In special neighbourhoods (redevelopment, development, and urban redevelopment areas), further forms of participation and participation bodies are provided for by law.

In the 1970s, squatters in West Berlin aimed to prevent the demolition of old buildings in central residential areas. This radical and controversial protest movement made way for gentle, urban redevelopment. This form of construction planning that allows the people concerned to participate in its planning was and is exemplary in Germany and Europe, and has substantially changed planning processes.

Berlin is a city that is permanently changing. This holds particularly true for urban development since 1990. Particularly in the city centre, fast-paced development causes conflicts. Structural change and gentrification threaten and displace affordable housing, green and creative spaces, and traditional businesses.

In the eastern city centre, where the wall once ran along the river Spree, disputes escalated surrounding the MediaSpree project, one of the largest investment projects in Berlin. Office buildings, lofts, hotels and other new buildings are now being constructed on hitherto largely unused or temporarily used properties. The plans predominantly date back to the 1990s, but were not fully implemented because of the poor economic situation at the time. It is only since the mid-2000s that new, large-scale construction areas have been planned and realised. Supporters see this project as a great chance for the eastern part of Berlin; critics, as a way of selling off its most valuable areas. The growing opposition in the district of Friedrichshain-Kreuzberg led to an alliance of different citizens' initiatives.

Citizens had not been successful in using the above-mentioned instruments of official citizen participation to achieve their objectives. As a result, they founded the citizens' initiative, Spreeufer für alle!, which in July 2008 culminated in a successful referendum. It aimed at making the banks of the river Spree accessible to the public with a stretch of the river bank of at least 50 meters, and abandoning the plan to construct high-rise buildings and a road bridge. These demands were approved by approximately 87 percent of the voters: the required participation quorum of 15 percent of eligible voters was exceeded by approximately 19 percent.

The Friedrichshain-Kreuzberg district had already reacted to the citizens' initiative by accommodating the initiators with its own proposal that was put to a vote. In direct comparison, however, the initiators' alternative was preferred. The referendum is not binding. Nonetheless, the district has abandoned some of the Mediaspree plans. Thus, the high-rise building is not going to be built, and instead of the planned road bridge, a bicycle and pedestrian bridge is to be built over the Spree. In doing so, it accommodates the central concerns of the citizens' initiative.

In September 2008, a special committee was set up composed of members of the different factions and the citizens' initiative. Its aim is to discuss possibilities for changing construction plans in light of the referendum. In many cases, plans and projects were modified, and land was acquired and designed as green areas. The civic engagement was worth the effort, even if not all goals were achieved. This was not possible because some projects had already advanced too far, and above all, industry and political opposition was too strong. The Senate had guaranteed investors planning security and threatened to withdraw planning competence from the district. This has not occurred so far, but the Senate did not put a stop to the construction of a residential tower on the East Side Gallery, in spite of a referendum and massive protests at the beginning of 2013.

Re-municipalisation referenda change the policy of the rulers

In Germany, municipalities are largely responsible for the protection of public services and provisions. They can also fall back on businesses when it comes to the supply of these services. At the end of 2011, Berlin directly held a share in 46 companies governed by private law and eight institutions governed by public law, and held a majority interest in 38 of these. The business fields ranged from housing, supply and waste management, traffic, real estate management, to culture and science, and hospitals.

Since the 1990s, Berlin has had to sell its shares, primarily due to limited financial resources. The sale, for example, of the energy provider Bewag (electricity and heat) and Gasag (gas), the partial privatisation of Berliner Wasserbetriebe (water supply) and the sale of municipal housing associations were deeply controversial politically. In the dispute over the water supply, the PDS faction brought the issue before the Land Constitutional Court in 1999. Contractually agreed profit guarantees for private buyers resulted in constantly increasing water prices and the growing discontent of the population. In June 2007, the citizens' initiative "Berliner Wassertisch?" initiated the referendum, "Our Water" under the motto, "Stop secret contracts—Berlin wants its water back." It aimed at a disclosure, public debate and rescission of the privatisation agreements. After several problems, a referendum finally took place on 13 February 2011. It was the third referendum in Berlin's history and the first successful one. Some 27.5 percent of those entitled to vote participated, and 98 percent voted in favour. This meant that the required quorum of 25 percent was achieved. And this was all in spite of the fact that the Berlin parliament had already adopted the Freedom of Information Act (Informationsfreiheitsgesetz) in July 2010 in response to demands for transparency, and the contracts had been publicly available since autumn 2010.

The "red-red" Senate (composed of the SPD and the Left Party) had failed, which would have consequences for the 2011 elections, in particular for the Left Party. After almost 10 years, there was no longer sufficient electoral support for a red-red coalition. Since then, the Left Party has once again been an opposition party in Berlin. It has had to learn the hard way that compromises that can be achieved in coalitions do not meet the expectations of its own voters and that controversies and conflicts—as well as its own actions and the associated general conditions—must be communicated to the public more broadly and in a way that is easier to understand.

To date, all Berlin parties have incorporated the re-municipalisation of the water supply into their manifestos, and recently, Berlin bought back the last remaining private share. Although the actual implementation was criticised, success has been achieved in this case across the board.

With regard to a public-sector energy supply, we still have a long way to go. Scarce resources, climate change and global justice require a clean and affordable energy supply. The social debate on the future of energy is a priority in Germany, and even Chancellor Angela Merkel enjoyed her role as "climate chancellor" for a while.

In 2014 and 2015, Berlin will award concessions for the gas and electricity networks. With a view to these dates, an alliance was founded in 2011 to promote a socially just, ecologically sustainable, and democratically controlled electricity, gas and heat supply. In 2012, this alliance initiated a referendum. The aim was a takeover of the networks by the public sector, the foundation of a public utility for renewable energies and its democratic control. It was preceded by many years of discussions surrounding future concepts with a rather modest practical outcome.

Although the referendum on 3 November 2013, which was initiated by the "Berliner Energietisch" alliance, narrowly failed with only 24.1 percent votes cast in its favour, it has nevertheless had an impact. Under pressure from public opinion, the Senate has taken the first steps towards founding a public utility and applying for a new city-owned gas and electricity supply company. A few weeks prior to the voting meeting, the governing parties established the legal basis for this.

They claimed that they wanted to avoid the need for a referendum. However, postponing the voting date from the day of the federal government elections to a Sunday a few weeks later had a negative impact on the turnout and contributed to the near-miss. This decision on the part of the Senate and coalition has undermined their political credibility. Not least, it has prompted the initiatives forming the Energietisch to continue their work and to keep a sharp eye on politics.

Conclusion: Local Politics Needs Participation

Turnout is decreasing in Berlin, and is lower at the local level than the federal level. In 1995, when the House of Representatives was elected, turnout was still 68.6 percent. In 2011, it dropped to only 60.2 percent. In 1994, 78.6 percent of eligible voters participated in the Bundestag elections, and in 2013, the number fell to 72.5 percent.

Concluding that citizens are not interested in politics would, however, be fatal. Rather, it indicates a growing gap between established politics and people's problems. If they are disappointed in the political system, or do not expect anything from it, they withdraw. If their interests are dealt with, and if their voice is heard, many people can and want to have a say. This requires general conditions that are adapted to changing conditions.

However, no one should be under the misconception that more direct democracy is enough to create a better society. It has a very limited impact on power relationships and wealth distribution. A glance at history, however, shows that opportunities for direct intervention can be used to facilitate social change. The political change in the GDR between autumn 1989 and autumn 1990 is one example of such a turning point. Direct participation and co-determination has emerged without a lot of preparatory work and in a short space of time, and has proven to be effective, such as roundtables at all political and territorial levels, the foundation of parties and political groups, citizens' initiatives, and free media. With the accession to the Federal Republic of Germany, many have lost their de facto justification or economical basis.

What has remained, however, is the perception that with clear goals and competent actors, appropriate forms of direct political control can be found in the short term. If they are to be accepted, and if people are to become committed, it is necessary to facilitate actual participation. Any appearance—even the slightest—of an alibi function will discredit these democratic instruments.

The processes for citizen participation are diverse and evolving. Change is necessary with regard to the self-image and actions of politics and administration. Too often, "interfering" citizens are considered annoying. The extension of citizen participation to political decision-making must be deliberate, and it needs to be firmly incorporated into administrative and decision-making processes.

Citizen participation must allow for the real involvement of citizens in decision-making; otherwise, civic engagement and voluntary activities cannot be mobilised. In addition, citizens must be enabled to participate. Decision-making processes and their general conditions are usually very complex. Everybody involved must therefore at least have similar levels of access to relevant information and knowledge of the required procedures. For knowledge is power!

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10

Networked Societies and Hierarchical States: The Emerging Challenge to Political Order

Nitin Pai and Sneha Shankar

In the past few years, public protests that have erupted in various regions across the world have sought to be understood as struggles in a number of ways: as struggles for democracy, against policy capture by vested interests such as banks and industrial corporations, against corruption and cronyism, against authoritarianism, and for justice, rights and freedoms. Technology—specifically the internet and mobile devices—is seen as an important instrument enabling protests and activism, especially because they are less sensitive to control mechanisms traditionally employed by governments of the world.

While the multiplicity of explanations does convey an impression that we are contending with a Rorschach Test[1] of social sciences, the wide variations in context, timing, triggers and demands of these protests indicates that there are multiple causal factors—and these differ from case to case. Any study of these protests must, however, contend with a simple, central question: Given that the protestors' grievances are not new, why did the protests take place only now (roughly since 2010)? Corruption, economic distress, political oppression and elite control of political power, among others—have been around for decades. What changed enough to cause people to get out into the streets to collectively voice out their protest? It is possible to identify a number of underlying factors, most important among them: youth bulge, urbanisation, size of the middle class, mobile-phone penetration, and growth of social media. It is highly likely that these factors—in various combinations—have a causal relationship with the eruption of protests. The "Why now?" question, can be explained by the fact that social-media platforms like Facebook and Twitter are of fairly recent origin and have pervaded societies at unprecedented adaption rates. Text messaging over mobile telephone networks is older, but it was only in the last decade that mobile-phone ownership increased significantly as a fraction of the overall population. Thus the availability of technology might be one explanation as to why the public protests took place at the time that they did.

Technology also suggests a more profound implication. The proliferation of public protests—across democracies and authoritarian states—might be the first signs of a clash between contemporary hierarchically ordered states and their radically networked societies.

The structure of the contemporary nation-state derives from Enlightenment-era principles and Industrial Age organisation.[2] Almost every nation-state is organised in a pyramidal fashion, with the greatest power at its tiny apex.[3] This mirrors the organisation of a typical corporation where authority and decision-making increases with higher layers of management. From tiny city states to continent-sized countries, one hierarchically organised nation-state differs from the other only in terms of the number of layers, extent of concentration of power at the apex and techniques employed to check the use of power by those at the top.

Each entity in the pyramidal structure is bound by rules or diktats imposed by 'higher authorities' who might possess (or claim) their power to do so as deriving from the people. Throughout the pyramid, once an entity arrives at the margins of its authority, it must escalate the matter to an entity at a higher level.[4] This system can do well when matters are routine. However, when faced with a non-standard challenge, hierarchy either slows down decision-making or elicits a standard—often unsatisfactory—response. Today's governments operate in a hierarchical manner, top-down and bottom-up, in silos, bound by hard rules and distinct leadership.[5] The hierarchical state can learn to handle emerging challenges but the learning process itself takes time due to the same structural reasons.

While the structure of the nation-state has remained what it was, the societies they govern are in various stages of transition from the Industrial Age to the Information Age.[6] A networked society is flat, its demands are diverse and often inchoate, decision-making processes are amorphous, and leadership, diffuse.

In many countries, the worldwide communications revolution that started in the 1990s has now become pervasive, causing individuals to be far deeply and intimately connected to each other. This is not just about people connected to each other on Facebook and Twitter: individuals who can receive a text message on their mobile phones are plugged in to various local, national and international social networks (in the broad, non-technical sense of the term).

Information flows differently in networks, spreading from node-to-nodes, through various channels. Each entity in a network can receive, modify, and transmit information, limited only by what technology permits.[7] Compared to their hierarchical forebears, radically networked societies have faster information flows and shorter attention spans.

When such societies encounter the hierarchically ordered structures of the states they are part of, there is a mismatch in terms of expectations, response times, and sensitivity to context. This is true, however democratic the state and whatever degree of accountability there is of its government. The unresponsiveness of the state undermines its legitimacy in the eyes of its society. While a networked society moves fast, a hierarchical government moves relatively slowly on account of its structure. To members of networked societies the hierarchical government appears slow, less responsive, and remote, hence lacking in credibility and legitimacy.

The wave of public protests and the manner in which they were dealt is exemplary as described below.

Mobilisation and Counter-mobilisation in Key Public Protests, 2010-13

Tunisia

Mobilisation

One day in December of 2010, a 26-year-old Tunisian street vendor, Mohamed Bouazizi, stood in front of the municipal headquarters in the central Tunisian town of Sidi Bouzid, doused himself in gasoline, and lit a match. Bouazizi, the sole breadwinner for his family, had long battled local authorities as he sought the right to operate his street cart, sometimes paying bribes to the police. On December 17, 2010, as a policewoman confiscated his cart yet again, his rage boiled over and he immolated himself. Bouazizi's act served as the ultimate act of protest, resonating as a product of the everyday frustrations and humiliations confronted by millions of Tunisians—injustice, corruption, and crippling poverty.

Bouazizi's death would change the Arab world forever. It brought together, in a series of passionate protests, various groups dissatisfied with the existing system of government, mostly consisting of unemployed youth,[8] the under-30 who make up about 60 percent of the region's population. The country's president, Zine El Abidine Ben Ali, was forced to flee Tunis for Saudi Arabia after 23 years in power. He was later sentenced, in absentia, to 35 years in prison for embezzlement and misuse of state funds.[9]

The Arab Spring was unique in its magnitude, and evoked plenty of careful scrutiny among social-sciences scholars to understand why it happened the way it did. Studies indicated that a high penetration rate of ICT (Information & Communication Technology) in Tunisia, and an active online presence of a significant proportion of the population, in particular the youth, could have facilitated the uprising and thus its scale. Tunisia, after all, has one of the most developed telecommunications infrastructures in North Africa, and of a population of 10.2 million inhabitants, 9 out of 10 Tunisians own a mobile telephone, and over 70 percent have access to the internet.[10] In 2011 as the revolution erupted, Tunisia had approximately 3.6 million Internet users and just over 1.6 million Facebook users. It is indicated that demonstrators used the internet and social-media sites to promote their cause and distribute videos documenting the protests. These tools and cell phones also aided in coordinating the protests.[11]

Counter-mobilisation

Police, under higher orders, used riot gear to disperse the crowds. Some 40 to 50 protestors died in the aftermath of the violent dispersal. Rafik Belhaj Kacem was responsible for the police force which, according to eyewitness accounts, had used excessive force against the protesters.

Night-time curfew was declared by Ben Ali on 13 January 2011, two days after the first wave of protests. President Zine El Abidine Ben Ali dismissed his interior minister in an attempt to stem the unrest.

The police acted under Kacem's orders, and Kacem was reporting to the Interior Minister. A hierarchy also depends on offices, each with a set of obligations and responsibilities. An office member's inability to deliver on those could result in his termination by a superior. In this case, the Interior Minister was of a stratum below that of President Ben Ali, enabling the latter to dismiss the former.

Egypt

Mobilisation

Protests from the Tunisian revolution spread to and across Egypt as well. The Egyptian revolt began on the 25th of January, 2011, and led to President Hosni Mubarak's resignation 18 days later.[12] Grievances of Egyptian protesters included legal and political issues—from police brutality, lack of free elections and freedom of speech, and corruption, to economic issues such as high unemployment, inflation, and low wages.[13] The protests largely included the youth. Over 54 percent of Egypt's population is made up of the under-24 demographic, and in 2011, 24 million Egyptians were between the ages of 15 and 29, referred to in the demographic security field as the "fighting age."[14]

The most famous public protest of the Egyptian revolution would be the one at Tahrir Square. A key figure in sparking the protests was 26-year-old Asmaa Mahfouz, a member of the opposition-run "April 6 Youth Movement," which generated tens of thousands of positive responses to rally against government policies,[15] in exhortations made public in a Facebook campaign and video blogs.[16] The Facebook group set up for the event attracted 80,000 supporters, and over 250,000 attended the actual protest.

Counter-mobilisation

To quell the protests, police used rubber bullets, tear gas, and concussion grenades. Plainclothes officers beat up several demonstrators.

The deployment of plainclothes forces paid by Mubarak's ruling party, has been a hallmark of the Mubarak government. The Ministry of Interior (MOI) State Security Investigative Service (SSIS), the police, and other government entities employ torture to extract information or force confessions. Two videos were leaked of alleged police torture of a man in a Port Said police station by the head of investigations, Mohammed Abu Ghazala.

On 6th February, 2011, two weeks into the uprising, negotiations involving Egyptian Vice President Omar Suleiman and representatives of the opposition commenced amid continuing protests throughout the nation. On 10th February, Mubarak announced he would delegate some of his powers to Vice President Suleiman, while continuing to serve as Egypt's head of state.

The police and other government entities act on authorisation from seniors who report to the Baltageya. The Baltageya is headed by Mubarak. This chain of command is indicative of an established hierarchy.

The Vice President here acted on behalf of President Mubarak, implying he is below Mubarak in the pecking order. Also, Mubarak was willing to delegate some of his responsibilities to the VP. This act shows that he has the power to dictate the jurisdictional powers of Suleiman, indicating Suleiman to be below him in the chain of command. This further establishes the presence of a hierarchy.

Spain

Mobilisation

Due to the ongoing economic crises and the inability of the Spanish government to effectively address growing unemployment rates—the number of unemployed in Spain stood at 4,910,200 at the end of March 2011, up by about 214,000 from the previous quarter, while the youth unemployment rate stood at 43.5 percent, the highest then in the European Union[17]—social-media networks through the Democracia real YA fuelled calls for demonstrators to take to the streets before local elections.[18] The movement started on 11th May 2011 with an online group on Twitter and Facebook, over 90,000 protesters gathered across Spain, in Barcelona, Valencia, Seville, Bilbao as well as the capital, Madrid, for the first public protest on 15th May.[19]

From its origins in a network of activists utilising new social media to coordinate a series of protest marches in cities across Spain, the '15-M' movement, as it was called, has since then, in the space of a month, mobilised over 40,000 protesters in Madrid and 80,000 in Barcelona to demand: "Real democracy NOW!"[20] This movement is ongoing.

Counter-mobilisation

Although they started off as peaceful mobilisations, the Spanish protests were met by the police with violence, beating the protesters with truncheons. Around 450 police officers from two different sectors were deployed by the city council of Barcelona alone, and in that aftermath, over 121 were injured.

The President of the Regional Electoral Committee of Madrid then issued a statement declaring the protests illegal because "calls for a responsible vote can change the results of the elections." Police units stationed at Plaza del Sol received orders from the Government Delegation not to act unless informed.

The protests were declared illegal by the President of the electoral committee. The police were then deployed by the various city authorities, indicating that the city officials act at the behest of the higher government authorities. This indicates a chain of command, and thus, a hierarchy.

China

Mobilisation

Even in some of the most restricted of states, there are indications of public protests both online and offline. According to research by the Chinese Academy of Governance, the number of protests in China doubled between 2006 and 2010 to 180,000 mass incidents.[21]

The uprisings in one locality, Wukan village, were fruitful in causing a forfeiture of the ruling Communist Party there, and the villagers held their first-ever ballot elections bereft of any other political interference.[22]

Frustration in Wukan reached a tipping point in 2009 when a small group of youth villagers in their 20s began to react to the injustice of having their village land taken away; they were also increasingly angered by the concomitant inequality and lack of opportunity. They shared information on the proceedings, and strategised largely using mobile phones and social media. In September of 2011, this youth group stormed the local government and chased out the local administration. A to-and-fro battle between the ruling government and the villagers ensued with several members being arrested, and the media getting involved. Two years after the first set of protests, the Wukan villagers were successful in installing a democratic leadership.[23] Like this, the marches in Ningbo, Shifang, and Dalian were all organised largely through micro-blogs, smartphone apps, and text messages."[24]

Counter-mobilisation

President Hu Jintao warned provincial and central government officials that China was "still in a stage where many conflicts are likely to arise," according to a report by the state-run Xinhua news service. He called on the officials to "solve prominent problems which might harm the harmony and stability of the society." This was followed by the rounding up of lawyers, activists and dissidents, increased online censorship, and deployment of massive numbers of police to quash any demonstrations.

With an increasing frequency of protests, President Hu summoned top leaders to a special "study session" and urged them to address festering social problems before they became threats to stability. Among other matters discussed, he urged those gathered to step up Internet controls and to better "guide public opinion." Soon after, the words "Jasmine Revolution," borrowed from the successful Tunisian revolt, were blocked on sites similar to Twitter and on Internet search engines, while cell phone users were unable to send out text messages to multiple recipients. Police presence and potency in cities also greatly increased.

Acting on President Hu Jintao's warnings, provincial and city government officials reacted to the growing uprisings by increasing police presence, rounding up dissidents and heightening online censorship. This implies that the police and those monitoring online activity were employed by these government officials, who in turn were acting on the orders of President Hu.

Brazil

Mobilisation

The first huge public protest in Brazil was organised on 6 June 2013, to protest the hike in bus fares that came into effect on 1 June. But what started as a movement by the Movimento Passe Livre (Free Fare Movement), a group that operates online using social media platforms, to protest against rising public transport fares, escalated to include other issues. Protesters took to the streets to vent their anger over political corruption, the high cost of living, high taxes, and huge public spending for the World Cup and the Olympics.[25] Although the Brazilian government conceded many requests, the protests are still ongoing.

An interesting fact about this uprising is that the majority of the protesters are, on average, richer and better educated than the average Brazilian. A survey of demonstrators in Sao Paulo by polling firm Datafolha indicated the protesters were three times more likely to have a university degree than the rest of the population, and 81 percent of respondents told Datafolha they heard about the protest via Facebook.[26]

Counter-mobilisation

Reaction to the uprisings was met with aggression from the police. News reports mentioned that police "lost control" when they began using rubber bullets against protesters and journalists covering the events. Governor Sérgio Cabral said he would make no comment on the police's actions, and that they were "not [his] problem," but the military police's.

When contacted, the Public Security Bureau informed that the Secretary José Mariano Beltrame would not rule on acts of violence during the demonstration and on the police reaction. The guidance given by the press office was to seek Colonel Frederico Caldas, spokesman for the PM. Brazilian President Dilma Rousseff met with the country's 27 state governors and 26 state capital mayors to take measures related to improve funds management, public transport, health care, and education.

In a hierarchy, each official status has a number of obligations and privileges closely defined by limited and specific rules. Each of these offices contains an area of responsibilities and imputed competence.

From the Brazilian Governor's response to the police's actions, we can infer that either (a) this matter did not fall under his jurisdiction, or (b) he was decidedly nonchalant. Giving him the benefit of doubt, we can assume it was the former.

Even if that can be refuted, the existence of a chain of command in speaking to the journalists—to contact Col. Caldas, spokesman for the PM, instead of the Secretary—bolsters the argument that there does exist different strata and sub-strata in the Brazilian government, each with its own rules, responsibilities, and jurisdiction.

This is reinforced by the second point that indicates that President Rousseff met with the many state governors and mayors to discuss the protests. This indicates that Brazil's government is hierarchical in nature.

Conclusion

First, in radically networked societies, it is extremely easy to mobilise large numbers of people.[27] It takes a single text message, missed call, or tweet to share information about the time and place of protests. It is possible to create massive rallies like those at Egypt's Tahrir Square[28] and Bangladesh's Shahbag[29] with the same technology and resources used to create flash mobs.

Second, because these mobilisations do not depend on middle-level leaders who gather people on the ground, they are that much harder for the authorities to pre-empt. China's curbs on internet freedom,[30] for example, are the equivalent of putting grassroots leaders into perpetual preventive custody: it does not work too well. Netizens and censors are playing a cat-and-mouse game,[31] with the latter trying to wipe out mentions of protest-affected areas as soon as they are published on the internet. Such measure, however, does not stop news, files, photographs, and videos from leaking out. Many democratic governments are toying with similar ideas, without realising how ridiculous and out-of-touch they appear with the realities of their networked societies.

Third, because these mobilisations take place in a networked fashion, they are many times faster than attempts at counter-mobilisation by hierarchically-structured authorities.[32] This forces the authorities to go into reactive mode, and often without the appropriate tools to manage mass, non-violent protests. The use of force to disperse protesters, even if allowed by law, is deeply unpopular and causes greater revulsion among those who watch it on television and YouTube. State authorities end up acting late, using too much force—thereby appearing to lack legitimacy even if, technically, they have the law on their side.

As one of the authors has argued elsewhere: "The popular legitimacy of today's hierarchically-structured governments—and the political order they rest on—is under threat in radically networked societies."[33] The contemporary state confronts the demands of the Information Age and is increasingly found wanting. In other words, corruption, bus fare hikes, tree parks or economic policies are abstractions or symptoms of the underlying dissatisfaction with the way the people are governed.

One reason the United States managed to emerge at the top of the world order is because it had the best political system for post-Enlightenment, industrial-age societies. It may well be that the nation that best reinvents itself for the information age will have a shot at being the next great superpower. While all states are coping with the challenges of the Information Age, China is distinguishable on account of its foresight and investment in attempting to resist the change, controlling the discourse within its radically networked society and mitigating the political consequences. Whether or not these efforts succeed, the People's Republic of China is unlikely to be among the first to reinvent its political structure.

While democracies do not have existential reasons to resist adaption to the Information Age, their ability to change will be limited by how much they can prevail over the bureaucratic rigidities they have acquired—and gotten used to—over the centuries.

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11

**Politics of Digitally Mediated Spaces: The Scripted Logic of Inclusion and Exclusion**

R. Swaminathan

The Changing Sociality of Social Media

The number of people across the world using some kind of social media or other is estimated at 1.73 billion, up by almost 50 million from last year. This means that one in every four in the world is connected to either Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest, Tumblr or one of its several Internet cousins. If such a trend continues, which by all accounts will, it is expected that by 2017, some 2.55 billion people in the world will have some aspect of social media embedded into their lives. That figure is slightly more than two Indias put together. Not surprisingly, this charge towards a digitally mediated socialisation is led by India, China, Indonesia, Mexico, and Brazil. India, for example, has seen an almost three-fold increase in the number of social-media users, from approximately 55 million in 2011 to 128 million in 2013. The number was expected to breach the 150-million mark sometime early 2014 and close at 170 million by the time 2014 wound down.[1]

The story in other emerging economies is similar. Faced with such compelling numbers, it is easy to get the impression that social media and the Internet are an integral part of the same fabric: if one is a warp, and the other, a weft. Strengthening such an impression is also the historical reality[2] that the Internet floats, in a seemingly ethereal manner, on an interconnected system of server farms layered with predictive algorithms, secure payment gateways, and caching engines. The Internet has always had, and large parts of it still have, a tightly coded dependency with fixed telecommunications infrastructure and devices. Such a tethered relationship, on one hand, led to the emergence of a communicative architecture of protocols and standards, a language so to speak, to allow the physical infrastructure of routers, undersea cables, and switching systems, to talk to each other. On the other hand, it led to means and modes of articulation that came to be defined by the territoriality and spatiality of the Internet. The physicality of the Internet, in essence, came to define both its means and modes of its various emergences, social media being one such emergence. In being informed by the coded dependency of the Internet and moulded by its essential positioning as a platform for exchange of information, social media came to be imagined primarily as a site of socio-cultural articulation that reflects, amplifies and marginalises various concerns of the real world.

At best, social media is seen as a lens to arrive at a mediated understanding of the physical sociality of the real world, and at worst it is perceived as a reflection, even a microcosm, of the real world. It is a reductive logic that informs, as much as it derives, from a simplistic understanding of the Internet as a medium of virtuality unconnected, as it were, to the fundamental cyber forces of production largely consisting of server farms, codes, algorithms, and software architectures. Such an analytical framework fails to take into account the relational dynamics between two critical nodes, one material and the other epistemological. In the last decade, and especially in the last five years, technological developments have transformed the tightly coupled and continuous relationship between the Internet, cyber forces of production and its various emergences into one that is simultaneously multimodal, discontinuous, and relatively autonomous. This reconfiguration has resulted in an increasing embedding of a scripted and coded logic, one that was earlier exclusively confined to the territoriality and spatiality of the domain of Internet, into contemporary built environment through asynchronous and non-linear integration of specific digital technologies into contemporary built environment. It covers a wide variety of emergent socio-technical phenomenon ranging from electronic money and Aadhaar cards to 3D printing and wearable human-machine interfaces.

The dominant epistemological framework acknowledging this transformation refers to it as ubiquitous digitalisation or computing, often inadvertently falling into a trap of technological determinism that leads to narratives and discourses of apparent inevitability (Hill, 1998: 23) of technology and progress. Consequently, then, technology is seen to acquire an agency of its own that is independent of the social relationships of power of daily life (Townsend, 2013), and a value-neutral additive that makes "time instantaneous and space unnecessary" (Pawley, 1995). Derived from these logical constructs of time-space compression is the narrative of transmission and transference of space where values, cultures, economies, and entire human societies, are seen to migrate into electronic spaces. Our current and simplistic understanding of social media can be traced to a certain extent to this analytical framework, where the sociality of social media is intrinsically, almost as an a priori starting point, defined by the territoriality and spatiality of the Internet, which is seen as a spearhead of this ubiquitous digitalisation.

Two examples will indicate the limits of our prevailing understanding of sociality. Adam Sadilek of Google and John Krumm of Microsoft have created an algorithmic software that claims to be able to predict a person's future with a fair degree of accuracy. They attached GPS devices to 300 residents of Seattle and tracked their lives for three months. It gave them 32,000 man-days of data, which worked out to 150 million data points. The two researchers tracked everything of the residents, from the time of waking up to eating habits, frequently used routes to the time of sleeping, in order to "provide better reminders, search results and advertisements by considering all the locations the person is likely to be close to in the future."[3]

The second example is from the Tangible Media Group of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT). The group has created an application, called InFORM, that gives physical form and shape to digital data. This allows for digital and physical domains to intermesh with each other, "mediating interaction... by providing dynamic physical affordances through shape change... to manipulate by actuating physical objects."[4] The system is built "on top of a state-of-the-art shape display [providing] for variable stiffness rendering and real-time user input through direct touch and tangible interaction."[5] Both the Google-Microsoft predictive software and MIT rendering application use the contemporary 'Internet-only' social media as a set of data points as a material foundation, among several others, in creating a meshed digital bridge to the physical world. In fact, several applications and software systems, from traffic management systems[6] to the world of peer-to-peer digital currency of Bitcoins,[7] are using social media as a foundational base for extending their sociality into the real and physical domains. This meshing together of several discrete and varied data points is made possible by a new suite of digital technologies.

There are three fundamental material and epistemological shifts taking place that are architecting unique relational dynamics in the domain of built environment. The first is the mutating virtuality of the Internet. This happens as a continuous process of integrating a digitally mediated physicality of the real world through an embedding of specific digital tools and technologies in daily lives, creating a hybridised socio-technoscape.[8] The second is the expanding notion of sociality within this hybridised domain. Such a reconfiguration is transforming physical spaces into nodes that are scripted, coded, and networked, creating a new socialised digital logic that is organising physical landscapes as exclusionary and inclusionary zones. The third is an emergent singularity that is based on an increasingly coupled, often integrated, relationship between humans, algorithms, codes, and machines. This process is asymmetrically extending the logic of sociality of the hybridised socio-technoscape into real and lived domains not directly mediated or engaged by technology, resulting in a narrative and discursive architecture that informs daily knowledge creation. Taken together, these three shifts are reconstituting the material base of a network society "in ways that [allows for] their endless expansion and reconfiguration, overcoming the traditional limitations of networking forms of organisation to manage complexity beyond a certain size of the network... [including] some people and territories while excluding others, so inducing a geography of social, economic, and technological inequality."[9]

From Sites of Articulation to Digitally Mediated Spaces

The Internet's evolution traces its roots to an American military effort to develop alternative lines of communication in case of the breakdown of traditional fixed line communication networks in the event of a war. That historical legacy, one of communication, ensured that the eco-system powering the Internet—from technologies, hardware, software, protocols and standards to access devices, fixed line distribution networks and even content—was, by default, tuned to serve and strengthen the communicative architecture of the Internet. Despite the seemingly serendipitous and chaotic nature of the Internet, a large part of its growth is actually a story of linear progression, though in massive leaps and bounds. Thus a Usenet of the early 1980s, for instance, can justifiably be positioned to have mutated first into a forum of the 1990s, the message boards of the 2000s, and the social media phenomenon spearheaded by Facebook and Twitter of the current generation. The common thread running through all these mutations have been the constant focus on communication; the devices changed, the character lengths shortened, pictures and videos were added, yet the platform remained a site of articulation. At a fundamental level, the sociality of a Usenet[10] and that of a Twitter is not all that different, confined as they are to the spatiality and territoriality of Internet. Yet there is a critical difference.

The sociality of the contemporary forms of social media is extended, mutated and transmitted, its value systems, logic and perceptual mechanisms embedded into daily life, through a set of six inter-related digital technologies: wireless transmission; Radio Frequency Identification (RFID) systems; interactive and emotive display systems; electronic payment gateways; digital cartography; and geo-locational mapping systems and services. This complex process of embedding ranges from the visible (Twitter applications on mobile phones) to the invisible (databases of social media platforms being used for algorithmic stock trading).

The history of wireless transmission can be traced back to the last part of the 1800s, with some of its most famous milestones being the telephone and the experiments carried out by the maverick Serbian scientist Nikola Tesla, especially his Wardenclyffe Tower project on wireless transmission of electricity. The contemporary tipping point in the history of wireless transmission came with the large-scale development and deployment of mobile communication technology from the early 1980s, aided in no small measure by the military advances in the manufacture of chips, optimised microwave technologies that leveraged the propagation characteristics of the different frequencies in the spectrum range in a substantially better manner. The maturation of wireless transmission technologies ensured that services layered upon it changed: from one exclusively associated with voice, to another including the transportation of data, images, and movies.

Mobile telephony and wireless fidelity (Wi-Fi), meanwhile, brought about two key transformations. First, it loosened the tightly coupled relationship of the Internet with fixed telecommunications infrastructure. Second, it afforded the Internet a certain relative mobility, allowing it to be positioned and located in a larger number of physical domains. Closely linked to the developments in wireless transmission is the technology ecosystem of RFID systems,[11] which makes use of radio-frequency electromagnetic fields to transfer data. Later-day RFID systems (tags) also store such data and communicate with each other, and other networked digital systems, including databases built upon and integrated with the Internet. For all practical purposes, modern retails chains would not have achieved their scale and size if it was not for RFID technologies, most obviously seen in the barcode stickers on products. In embedding the material domain, from products to identity/access cards, RFID technologies brought in a scripted logic of ordering daily life that created its unique socio-politico technoscape of exclusion and inclusion.

Computing has always been about different sets of algorithms with their own embedded binary logic systems interacting with other. In essence, then, yesteryear's Unix or today's Android 4.4 Kitkat Operating System share the same genetic code. Codes became accessible, in fact democratic, with the development and deployment of Graphic User Interfaces (GUIs), and DoS prompts made way to desktop click-and-point mouse-driven actions and to the current swipe-and-slide interfaces. But it would not have been possible without new technologies for display and expression, with the prominent tipping being the liquid crystal display (LCD) and light-emitting diode (LED) display technologies. In layering up the raw code with a GUI two transformations took place in the socio-technoscape. First, the complexity of the code is hidden creating a simultaneous process of accessibility and democratisation, as evidenced in the use of immersive and emotive mobile applications for a range of services from gaming to prenatal health, and an irrevocable distantiation that divorces an individual as a stakeholder in the engagement with the code. This leads to forms of disempowerment that can range from an automatic exclusion from the public transactional spaces, like how retail investors in the United States were literally coded out by the 2010 Flash Crash triggered by automatic trading algorithms and High Frequency Traders (HFTs), to conditional inclusion into a system on the fulfilment of certain parametric factors, like how information has to be necessarily organised in a document-sub-folder-folder format in a computer for it be made searchable. The Internet, inarguably, would not have made the transformation from a platform of communication to a domain of transactions if it was not for a combination of secure encryption technologies (SSL) and authentication protocols that underpin today's electronic payment gateways. The virtualisation of money not only created completely new, and digital, means and modes of transaction, but also intermeshed with existing physical systems of commerce and money creating a digitally mediated and modulated relationship between individuals and institutions. This further extended a coded logic into existing built environment and lived spaces. Such processes are reconstituting relational dynamics in unconventional ways where the relative ability to decontextualise time and space, making it global and unnecessary, is a political and social power in itself.

Two co-located sets of technologies of digital cartography and geolocation are the primary movers behind the emerging scripted and coded ordering of physical spaces. By integrating itself with satellite imagery and manipulating and layering software (CAD-CAM, Photoshop), and by using the Internet as a distribution mechanism, digital cartography and personal locational services (GPS and GIS) are creating scripted layers of satellite images, street views, and earthcams. This complex process integrates a simultaneous distantial, granular and segregated view, reconstituting the relational dynamics between physical, virtual, and imagined spatiality and territoriality. In positioning physical space as interchangeable and transformable, like the layout of a web magazine, an emergent artificial-asocial intelligence, similar to the ones constructed by the electronic brains of networked military unmanned combat vehicles is seen that while, ironically, making physical spaces more navigable and transparent—for instance GPS-based street navigation devices—also inject a coded sociality of inclusion and exclusion, that range from exclusive seven-star gated communities to ghettos that are contoured not by their physical location, but their virtualised physicality. The underlying relational dynamics of gated communities and ghettos, incidentally, are startlingly similar.

The emergent digitalisation as result of these technologies is fundamentally different from the earlier forms of digitalisation in the manner in which it intersects and integrates with existing social relationships of power, of which conventional social media reduced to one dematerialised component, configuring discourses that transcend institutional and non-institutional underpinnings. Such simultaneous processes of evolution inform the relational dynamics of digital technology, human territoriality and space inextricably linking social production of material and digital spaces (Mosco, 1996; Soja, 1989, 2009; Castells, 1996). This co-location creates an extended notion of sociality that opens us to the experiences of 'de-realisation and de-localisation' while allowing us to continue having 'physical and localised existences' (Robbins, 1995: 153). Epistemologically, this mutates the logic of virtual reality into one of real virtuality where processes of the material productions of space 'tap into digitally available resources of the world to enrich reality in real places' (Abler, 1995: 3). This 'culture of real virtuality' (Castells, 1996: 373) is experienced through new and integrated digital systems that capture lived reality, virtualises and communicates them by embedding a ordered logic, creating an experience that is at once real and digital. Such co-located processes embody 'complex global-local articulations between space of places and space of flows' and digital 'ordering of the urban' (Castells, 1996: 423-28; Castells, 2010), simultaneously transforming virtual sites of articulation and physical sites of engagement, contestation and negotiation into an hybridised set of digitally mediated spaces.

Emergent Politics of Digitally Mediated Spaces

The emphasising dynamic of digitally mediated spaces is how "bits and pieces; bodies and machines, and buildings, as well as texts, are associated together in attempts to build order" (Bingham, 1996: 32) creating an existential domain where space, time and agency are never absolute and are constantly defined and redefined through their relational dynamics. The virtual and lived spatiality of the digitally mediated spaces is often seen as 'fragmented, divided and contested' as relationships of power within this socio-technoscape link 'local and nonlocal in intimate relational, reciprocal connections' (Graham, 1998: 179). These relational frameworks construct 'multiple realities' (Harvey, 1996: 256), creating an impression of an experiential diversity that is simultaneously anchored to fixed material means and modes of spatial production and mobile nodes of narratives and discourses.

Understanding the emergent politics of the digitally mediated spaces requires us to revisit its foundational layers again. The first layer powering these spaces consists of the physical infrastructure of electronic components, servers, telecommunication lines and its embedded intelligent logic of codes, algorithms, and predictive software. Taken together, they constitute the material support for these spaces. Such spaces, it must be reiterated, are more in the nature of principles of control and order than physical spaces. So the spatial form of a digitally mediated space could as well be a 'city' one moment and a 'global region' the next. This architects a unique relationship of quantum mutation where space and spatiality seamlessly interchange, co-exist and merge. The second layer underlying them consists of nodes and hubs, much like a computer network, that transport and transfer data, physically, and ideas, logic systems and values, ephemerally, creating a 'space of flows.'[12] These nodes range from collective hubs like Wi-Fi hotspots to individually demarcated domains of a collective network, like a Facebook and Twitter account, to relatively private and unique nodes, like a mobile phone. In employing logic systems of all types of computing, from master-to-client (one server and numerous receivers), client-to-client (also called 'peer-to-peer') and many-to-one (called 'multicasting'), each node potentially has multiple forms embedded in it. A mobile phone, then, can near-simultaneously be used for a call (one-to-one), send/receive bulk/group SMSes (one-to-many/many-to-one) and can be used as a conference bridge (server-to-client). These nodes are stacked in a hierarchical manner depending on the principle of order and control. But it is also a hierarchy of impermanence moulded by whether the logic of order and control is for material production, socio-cultural articulation, or for collective consumption. Such interrelatedness of nodes construct digitally mediated spaces as processes rather than places, making its spatiality and territoriality as interchangeable and transportable independent of time and space. The third layer consists of people who manage the nodes and material base, and in the process of integrating themselves with it become the 'dominant, managerial elites (rather than classes).'[13] They articulate the spatiality and territoriality of the digitally mediated spaces.

These social actors are positioned within a material and articulatory system that moulds and embeds them with a scripted and coded logic, primarily through a system of training, making them a part of the techno-financial-managerial elite. Through this complex process of logic actualisation, the elites become both a stakeholder and a protector of this system; an integral part of the material and articulatory system of dominance. In the process, often, they become a collective node of transfer of ideas and values that are 'global, decontextualised and ahistorical.' The digitally mediated spaces supersede the logic of any specific place, replacing it with an interconnected system of material and articulatory frameworks that position technocratic processes as global, contemporary and cosmopolitan, while locating people as local. The politics of digitally mediated spaces reflect this self-perpetuating and circular logic (reason) in four ways, creating a new framework of exclusion and inclusion.

The first is through a complex process of appropriation of the social production of space.[14] At a conceptual level, space has always been an organising tool and the way physical and lived space is spatially and territorially ordered is through a material and imagined demarcation of public and private space (Madanipour, 2003). Such a socially organised demarcation, in fact, constitutes the base upon which the theory and practice of some of the fundamental building blocks of contemporary daily life is built upon, from public goods, governance, to the notion of nation-state itself. The electronic augmentation of physical and lived spaces, and the physical augmentation of electronic spaces, most notably represented by Second Life, blurs the relatively clear historical demarcation between public and private space, creating a spectrum of privateness and publicness that keeps changing as newer forms of digitally mediated means and modes of social production emerge. The blurring of this distinction produces a new spatiality that brings together the domain of Gemeinschaft (arena of social mores and norms, often loosely referred to as community) and Gesellschaft (arena of formal controls, referred to as society).[15] Both are brought together as a singular, digitally mediated space by a shared coded and scripted logic creating a 'de-localised' articulation that is diffused in an asymmetric and non-linear manner. On one hand, therefore, it informs the politics of development that unfolds in the material domain through a range of mutations, from narratives of riverfront development and beautification projects to greening of open spaces as opposed to, say, the narratives of regeneration of rivers and ecological balance of open spaces.

On the other hand, it moulds the various levels of social articulation, ranging from discourses of migration of outsiders to demolition of slums as opposed to discourses of migratory diversity and socio-economic agency of slum residents. The second is by a relatively autonomous augmentation of the existing scripted and coded logic within digitally mediated spaces. Each layer of augmentation displays greater level of order and control, divorcing local contexts, including people, creating a daily lived reality where an individual has an illusion of control through an immersive experience with emotive interfaces, touchscreen being one, while the non-visual, coded and encrypted, becomes more smarter and intelligent, increasingly occupying domains of agency and choice. These processes range from predictive algorithms of social media determining your 'needs' and displaying what it thinks you 'want,' inadvertently creating a digitally mediated selection bias that informs practically everything from election speeches to voting strategies, to retail chains systematically eliminating products that do not fit in with its scripted logic of tracking, scale and logistics, creating a self-fulfilling system of customer choice, demand and satisfaction. In its extreme manifestation, as seen in the Swedish city of Lund, the city gets "constantly produced, re-engineered and mediated by computers in complex networks that takes considerable amounts of work and material infrastructure as well as large numbers of highly skilled workers... the scripted space as the info-layer of the city is a complex and networked software structure where algorithmic scripts organise and control the city and our experience of it."[16]

The third is through the creation of an integrated set of concealed meanings, almost like a secret language, whose understanding is necessary to navigate the digitally mediated space. This "sign of signs... [is] readable for those with the right code but cannot be accessed by outsiders...[from] signs indicating hidden infrastructures, security alarms, and surveillance cameras. We find many physical structures guiding and welcoming us, combined with electronic layers sorting and disciplining the clientele—for example, the signs in alluring shop entrances indicating the credit cards accepted, in this way welcoming those with the right cards and excluding those without money."[17] It is through these set of concealed meanings that the scripted space maintains and augments its mediated character, often sub-consciously moulding the routes of those engaging and interacting with it. The best representation of such a set of concealed meanings is seen in theme parks where "each square food must pay off... [for] happy imprisonment... [and] ergonomic control." It is a logic system that has already permeated lived physical space and can be seen in attempts to replicate, for instance, European cities in Lavasa[18] or smaller efforts to create connected enclaves of gated communities. The complex politics of such socio-technoscapes, often referred in a seemingly value neutral way as dynamics of Information Architecture, Ergonomics and User Experience—all terms originally associated with information technology—reflect a range of aspirations, from private municipal governance to corporate-style Chief Executive Officers (CEOs) for a city. The fourth is simultaneous process of 'distantiation and space-time compression' (Giddens, 1999) within the digitally mediated spaces, allowing material and non-material forces of production to co-locate and co-exist, often in an interchangeable manner, creating a singular and circular logic of self-sustaining codes of sociality that recreate, at a conceptual level, the politics of exclusion and inclusion as a binary set of logins and logouts. The political manifestations of this process range from questions of mediated identity, citizenship and nationhood raised by Aadhaar cards, to facial recognition software, biometric identification systems and magnetic strip cards to access public, semi-public, and private spaces.

Conclusion: More Questions than Answers

There is not one single politics of digitally mediated spaces, yet there is a socio-technical connectedness between the multiple politics that creates a spatiality and territoriality of social singularity. Neither is there a single metanarrative of these spaces, yet the micronarrative of each one of these spaces mimic the nodal architecture of network systems, contributing to and drawing from other narrative nodes in a near instantaneous manner. The politics of such spaces can best be described and understood as a multitude stringed together by an overarching logic of control and order that is digitally manipulated, scripted, and coded. The narrative and discourse of these spaces have distinct characteristics, but are also intrinsically linked to the larger connective architecture of globalisation, finance capital, and technology.

The politics of these spaces are extraordinarily dynamic, changing and mutating so fast and so quickly, that not only does the distantiation between time and space seem artificial, but actually seems to be mouldable enough for it to exist either individually, collectively, or as a singularly merged entity. It is almost as if there is a certain quantum logic associated with every single phenomenon of these socio-technoscapes: every emergence has the potential to exist in different modes and forms at once. It also seems that the very act of observing a digitally mediated space changes it: after all, for instance, one cannot research the political articulations of Twitter as a social media platform without becoming a part of it, and in the process submitting one's movements to the predictive and tracking algorithms of multiple and layered digital platforms of the virtual and physical world.

Digitally mediated spaces are not just a rich landscape of new means and modes of production of space, spatiality and territoriality; they also foster methodological challenges that raise fundamental questions about the tools, techniques and approaches towards social science research. One might even be tempted to understand the articulatory fragmentation and multiplicity of contestations as a manifestation of a post-modern world order: one that is underpinned on a network of integrated digital technologies.

But each new layer of fragmentation, engagement and contestation is embedded with a logic that is becoming increasingly autonomous to the point of complete independence. So much so, that the logic of the digital has permeated the consciousness of daily common sense existing, as it were, without any material foundations. Ironically, this logic, while fragmenting the material and non-material means and modes of social production, the sociality of life, is based on a singular imperative of order and control, which range from the genetic manipulation of ecology and eco-systems to reconfiguration of physical and imagined spaces. It is almost Newtonian in spirit and reminiscent of early 20th century triumphalist modernism, making one wonder if, in order to understand and analyse digitally mediated spaces, one has to revisit almost every single epistemological domain with a new lens.

BACK TO CONTENTS

Endnotes and References

2

1. Brian Joseph, "The State of Democracy in Asia" (lecture given at Colorado College, CO, USA, March 8, 2012).

2. Human Development Report, UNDP Castigated, Corruption in South Asia, 1999.

3. Rohit Kumar Nepali, Democracy in South Asia, International Institute for Democracy and Electoral Assistance, 2009.

4. The Military expenditure in South Asia was 2.47% of GDP in 2010 (World Bank, 2012), reducing the budget available, for example, for poverty reduction.

5. In 2008, Nepal, Pakistan, Maldives and Bhutan all chose their new state leaders; Pakistan and Maldives ushered in new parliaments and prime ministers. 2009 brought one more vital poll: a legislative election in Bangladesh.

6. India Central Vigilance Commission, International Anti-Corruption Newsletter, July 2000.

7. India, US Department of State, http://www.state.gov/documents/organization/160058.pdf.

8. "Bo Xilai gets life imprisonment for corruption. A 5 star prison awaits him," AsiaNews.it, September 23, 2013, http://www.asianews.it/news-en/Bo-Xilai-gets-life-imprisonment-for-corruption.-A-5-star-prison-awaits-him-29080.html.

9. "Bangladesh court sentences 9 politicians to life in prison for murder of journalist," Jurist, June 28, 2013, http://jurist.org/paperchase/2013/06/bangladesh-court-sentences-9-politicians-to-life-in-prison-for-murder-of-journalist.php.

10. P.R. Chari (ed), The Crisis of Security and Governance in South Asia (New Delhi: Manoharan, 2001).

11. The Times of India, Mumbai, October 16, 2013.

12. Ibid, October 23, 2013.

13. The commission filed 125 cases in the 2011 to 2012 fiscal year to the Special Court of Nepal, which convicted 59 and ruled 66 not guilty or in need of further investigation. And since July 15, 2012, the commission has filed 189 cases to the court, which convicted 57 and ruled 132 not guilty or in need of further investigation. Tara Bhattarai, "Political corruption inside Nepal continues as government investigations falter," WNN, 2013, http://womennewsnetwork.net/2013/06/07/political-corruption-nepal/.

14. Berkley Center for Religion, Peace and World Affairs, "Anti-Corruption Commission Bangladesh," http://berkleycenter.georgetown.edu/resources/organizations/anti-corruption-commission-bangladesh [Accessed 2 Nov 2012].

15. Ibid.

16. According to the chairman of ACC Ghulam Rahman, it is now required to obtain the government's permission before investigating officers, which in turn increases the chances of the corrupt suspects to put pressure on their subordinates to not give information or cooperate with ACC. In addition, the old cases against senior party leaders have been wiped out by finding loopholes in the judicial process with the help of the National Committee on Withdrawal of Politically-Motivated Cases that recommended the dismissal of 315 corruption cases through February 2012. International Crisis Group, "Bangladesh Back to the Future: Asia Report No. 226," June 13, 2012, http://www.crisisgroup.org/~/media/Files/asia/south-asia/Bangladesh/226-bangladesh-back-to-the-future.pdf [Accessed: 2 November 2012].

17. The Daily Star, "Study on MPs: TIB flayed at Sangsad," November 20, 2012, http://www.thedailystar.net/newDesign/news-details.php?nid=258186 [Accessed November 20, 2012].

18. "Court reopens five graft cases against Zardari," Gulf Times, October 14, 2013, http://www.gulf-times.com/pakistan/186/details/368641/court-reopens-five-graft-cases-against-zardari.

19. S.D. Muni, The New Democratic Wave and Regional Cooperation in South Asia, International Institute for Democracy and Electoral Assistance, 2009.

20. The Afghan government has fully cooperated with the international community in efforts to realise the goal of democratic stability for the country the commitment of the members of the judicial system to support justice and righteousness in accordance with the provisions of the sacred religion of Islam and the provisions of the Constitution; clearly demonstrate the primacy of national aspirations over international reservations in drafting the Constitution of Afghanistan.

21. Referring about the democracy of Bangladesh: Brussels based International Crisis Group's report (December 11).

22. Ramesh Chandra Thakur and Edward Newman (eds), Broadening Asia's Security Discourse and Agenda: Political, Social, and Environmental Perspectives, (Tokyo: United Nations University Press, 2004).

23. "India: Can Supreme Court End Reign of Criminals in Politics?," Scoop, July 16, 2013, http://www.scoop.co.nz/stories/WO1307/S00402/india-can-supreme-court-end-reign-of-criminals-in-politics.htm.

24. "Congress MP lose his parliamentary seat under new rules for convicted politicians," ukmalayalee.com, October 3, http://www.ukmalayalee.com/india-news/news.php?id=NTI5.

25. "Bangladesh court blocks Islamist movement from elections," yaLibnan, August 2, 2013, http://www.yalibnan.com/2013/08/02/bangladesh-court-blocks-islamist-movement-from-elections/.

26. The 15th Amendment to Bangladesh Constitution will be a benchmark for restoring some of the basic features of 1972 secular charter.

27. The CNIC has multiple embedded biometric security data and features, including watermarks, holograms, photographs and fingerprints. Manzoor Qadir, "Government working on formula for interim setup," Daily Times, August 2, 2012.

28. Amended provisions include sections 6 and 18 of the Electroral Rolls Act, 1974, and section 33 of the Representation of the People Act, 1976.

29. "Code of conduct for parties, candidates during poll period," Daily News, August 14, 2013, http://www.dailynews.lk/political/code-conduct-parties-candidates-during-poll-period.

30. The Election Commission Bangladesh, under article 92B of the Representation of the People Order, 1972, Nepal exercised of the powers conferred by Section 24A of the Election Commission Act, 2047 (1991),formulated the Code of Conduct.

31. Sumandeep Kaur, "Electoral Reforms in India: Proactive Role of Election Commission, Mainstream XLVI, No. 49 (November 2008), http://www.mainstreamweekly.net/article1049.html.

32. Electoral Politics in India, South Asia Journal, 2004.

33. Cries of women in Politics, Unfolding the Reality and Various other publication of South Asia Partnership International on VAWIP and EDG from 2007-011.

34. Election Commission of India has issued instructions for Chief Electoral Officers of states and Union Territories to introduce the "None of the Above" (NOTA) option during polls on Sept 2013 to enable voters to exercise their right to not vote for any particular candidate while maintaining secrecy. This can be a landmark in the electoral governance system to revive it in accordance with the people's verdict.

35. All individualists believe that government should keep its interference in the lives of individuals at a minimum, confining itself largely to maintaining law and order, preventing individuals from interfering with others, and enforcing agreements (contracts) voluntarily arrived at.

4

1. Many observers in the West have begun to worry about the threats posed by the rise of India and China as evident from the remarks of Michel Rocard, a former Prime Minister of France. Speaking of the growth of India and China, along with all the other challenges confronting US and France, the leaked Wikileaks cables quotes him as saying: "We need a vehicle where we can find solutions for these challenges together—so when these monsters arrive in 10 years, we will be able to deal with them.' Quoted in Siddharth Varadarajan, "Eastern promise, Western fears," The Hindu, January 25, 2011.

2. Prabhat Patnaik, "Democracy, Identity Politics and Class Politics," Mimeo, December 10, 2013.

3. Harsh Sethi (ed), State of Democracy in South Asia, A Report by the CDSA Team, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2008.

4. Ibid.

5. Patrick French, "The Princely State of India," Outlook, January 17, 2011, p. 42.

6. This is evident from election expenditure and declaration of assets of MPs and candidates. According to one estimate, in the 2012 elections in Himachal Pradesh, the declared income of the 10 richest candidates was cumulatively over Rs. 394 crores and in Gujarat, the 20 richest candidates won the elections and the richest among them declared assets of Rs. 268 crores.

7. Zoya Hasan, "Indian Polity Today and the Road Ahead, the ninth Bhatia Memorial Lecture delivered on August 11, 2004, India International Centre Quarterly 31, no. 4 (Spring 2005), 23-26.

8. Jean Drèze and Amartya Sen, Economic Development and Social Opportunity (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2000).

9. Atul Kohli, "Introduction," Democracy and Development: From Socialism to Pro-business (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2009).

10. Vijay Joshi, "Economic Resurgence, Lopsided Reform," in Diversity and Democracy, eds. Anthony F. Heath and Roger Jeffery (London: Oxford University Press, 2010), 104-05.

11. Jayati Ghosh, "Income Inequality in India," Countercurrents.org, February 17, 2004.

12. Atul Kohli, "Country of the Blind," Outlook Special Issue, January 7, 2013, http://www.outlookindia.com/article/country-of-the-blind/283664.

13. John Harriss, "How far have India's economic reforms been "guided by compassion and justice?" Social policy in the neoliberal era," in Understanding India's New Political Economy: A Great Transformation?, eds. Sanjay Ruparelia, Sanjay Reddy, John Harriss and Stuart Corbridge (London: Routledge, 2011), 127-40.

14. Harsh Mander, "Indifference and Inequality," Mimeo, July 12, 2013.

15. C. Rammanohar Reddy, "How is India Doing?," The Hindu, December 29, 2012.

16. Ibid.

17. Partha Chatterjee, "After Subaltern Studies," Economic and Political Weekly XLVII, no. 35 (September 1, 2012).

18. Atul Kohli, "Politics and Redistribution in India," ResearchGate, January 1988, http://www.researchgate.net/profile/Atul_Kohli2/publication/242077616_Politics_and_Redistribution_in_India/links/54aaf9cb0cf2bce6aa1d816f.pdf.

19. India has the dubious distinction of having some of the richest people along with a very substantial number of the poorest people. The ratio of billionaire wealth rose from less than one percent of GDP in the mid-1990s to 23 percent in 2008, and was 14 percent in early 2010, after a fall and recovery. The private wealth of billionaires has surged dramatically from less than one percent of GDP in 1997 to 23 percent in 2008. As a share of GDP it is close to Russia and Saudi Arabia, even while India's level of per capita income is much lower than in those countries. See Sunil Khilnani, "The Blurred Horizon," Outlook, January 10, 2011.

20. In 2008, attacks on Hindi-speaking and Biharis broke out in Mumbai. The immediate context for the violence was recruitment by railways for Class II and Class IV jobs. These applicants were prevented from taking tests by the local youth from Maharashtra. Indian Railways and other public sector undertakings are seen as providers of jobs coveted by the educated unemployed.

21. Navin Chawla, "Needed, urgent electoral reforms," The Hindu, January 2, 2013.

22. Atul Kohli, "Politics and Redistribution in India," Research Gate, January 1988, http://www.researchgate.net/profile/Atul_Kohli2/publication/242077616_Politics_and_Redistribution_in_India/links/54aaf9cb0cf2bce6aa1d816f.pdf.

23. S. Guhan, S. 'Comprehending Equalities', in Sanjay Subramanian, (ed.), India's Development Experience, Oxford University Press, New Delhi, 2001.

24. Aseema Sinha, "Globalisation, Rising Inequality, and the New Insecurities in India," accessed January 25, 2011, www.apsanet.org/imgtest/TaskForceDiffIneqDevSinha.pdf.

25. Praful Bidwai, "A Who's Who of Indian Sleaze," The Guardian, December 26, 2010.

26. Government of India, Prime Minister's High Level Committee, Social, Economic and Educational Status of the Muslim Community of India, A Report, Cabinet Secretariat, New Delhi, 2006. This Committee known as the Sachar Committee revealed that they lagged behind in every aspect of socio -economic development, thus exposing the hollowness of the propaganda that Muslims are being appeased.

27. Jayati Ghosh, "Let's Talk About the Growth Strategy, Stupid," Tehelka 10, no. 32 (2013).

28. Ibid.

29. Jayati Ghosh, "Social Policy in Indian Development," UNRISD, November 20, 2002. www.unrisd.org/unrisd, Accessed on 23 November 2013.

30. Ibid.

31. Jean Drèze and Amartya Sen, "Putting Growth in its Place," Outlook, November 14, 2011.

32. Sanjay Ruparelia emphasises this point in "Enacting Socioeconomic Rights: Lessons from India," October 2012, accessed December 28, 2013, www.worldwewant2015.org/file/291507/download/316038.

33. Ibid.

34. Jean Drèze, "Employment Guarantee and the Right to Work," in Oxford Companion to Politics in India, eds. Niraja Gopal Jayal and Pratap Bhanu Mehta (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2010).

35. Ashoka Mody and Michel Walton "Let's not wait for the savior," The Indian Express, January 2, 2014.

36. Ibid.

5.

1. This community is also known as the Estate Tamils. They are descended from workers sent from South India to Sri Lanka in the 19th and 20th centuries to work in coffee, tea and rubber plantations. Over the past century they have been the main labour force for Sri Lanka's Tea plantation industry.

2. The Kandyan Sinhalese proposed a federal Ceylon with three provinces including a province for the North-East. The Kandyan Sinhalese in fact viewed themselves as a nation and many of the documents of the organisations they established to advance their cause used language and arguments similar to Tamil nationalists and Tamil political groups in the more recent past (Edrisinghe, 2008).

3. In 1927 a royal commission under the Earl of Donoughmore visited Sri Lanka to ascertain as to why representative government as chartered by the 1924 constitution had not succeeded and to suggest constitutional changes necessary for the island's eventual self-rule. The commission proposed universal adult franchise and an experimental system of government to be run by executive committees. The resulting Donoughmore Constitution, promulgated in 1931 to accommodate these new proposals in government, was a unique document that provided Sri Lankans with training for self-government.

4. As Neil DeVotta argues, Sinhalese Buddhist nationalism has contributed to a nationalist ideology that has been used to expand and perpetuate Sinhalese Buddhist supremacy within a unitary Sri Lankan state; create laws, rules, and structures that institutionalise such supremacy; and attack those who disagree with this agenda as enemies of the state. The nationalist ideology is influenced by Sinhalese Buddhist mytho-history that was deployed by monks and politicians in the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries to assert that Sri Lanka is the designated sanctuary for Theravada Buddhism, belongs to Sinhalese Buddhists, and Tamils and others live there only due to Sinhalese Buddhist sufferance. This ideology has enabled majority superordination, minority subordination, and a separatist war waged by the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE). The study suggests both LTTE terrorism and the ethnocentric nature of the Sri Lankan state, which resorts to its own forms of terrorism when fighting the civil war, need to be overcome if the island is to become a liberal democracy (DeVotta, 2007).

5. The Tamil delegation to the Thimpu talks, that was held in 1985, in their response to the government at end of the talks said, 'The four basic principles that we have set out at the Thimpu talks as the necessary framework for any rational dialogue with the Sri Lankan Government are not some mere theoretical constructs. They represent the hard existential reality of the struggle of the Tamil people for their fundamental and basic rights. It is a struggle which initially manifested itself in the demand for a federal constitution in 1950 and later in the face of continuing and increasing oppression and discrimination, found logical expression in the demand for the independent Tamil state of Tamil Eelam' (Loganathan, 2008: 151-152).

6. The Oslo Agreement states that 'The parties agreed on a working outline defining the objectives as well as number of substantive political issues for negotiations...Responding to a proposal by the leadership of the LTTE, the parties agreed to explore a solution founded on the principle of internal self-determination in areas of the historical habitation of the Tamil speaking peoples, based on a federal structure within a united Sri Lanka....'

7. On the 11th of July 2006, President Rajapakse set up the All Party Representative Committee (APRC) in seeking a political solution to the national question. Fifteen political parties were initially represented at the APRC. It consisted of a seventeen-member expert panel to facilitate the process, one representative from each political party, and the chairman Professor Tissa Vitharana. The members of the APRC met weekly, almost every week, deliberating more than three to four hours each time. The APRC produced quite a few documents. The expert panel produced two reports, called the Majority Report, and the Minority Report in December 2006. Tissa Vitharana amalgamated these reports to produce "Main proposals to form the Basis of a future Constitution" (also called the Vitharana Proposals) in January 2007.

8. On 14 July 2006, after a long campaign against the merger of the Northern and Eastern provinces, the Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna filed three separate petitions with the Supreme Court of Sri Lanka requesting a separate Provincial Council for the East. On 16 October 2006 the Supreme Court ruled that the proclamations issued by President Jayewardene were null and void and had no legal effect. The North Eastern Province was formally de-merged into the Eastern and Northern provinces on 1 January 2007.

9. Due to the politicisation of the term 'federalism' by Sinhalese nationalists, these surveys did not ask respondents whether they support federalism or not. Instead, respondents were read the two following statements regarding different types of federalism in order to assess their support for power sharing:

\- Federalism: The powers of regional governments should be increased, even if those of the government at the centre have to be decreased.

\- Asymmetrical Federalism: The powers of some regional governments may need to be increased more than others.

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6.

1. Some of these are listed in "Implementation, Delivery Mechanism and Institutional Development," Ninth Five Year Plan 1997-2002, chapter five. They include (1) inadequate analysis of available information during program formulation, (2) top-down and target-oriented rather than a bottom-up approach, (3) lack of accountability of the implementing agencies either to the government or to the people, (4) social sector programs formulated without addressing the question of sustainability of benefits, and (5) failure to ensure timely and adequate flow of funds to the implementing agencies.

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10

1. The inkblot test (also called the "Rorschach" test) is a method of psychological evaluation. Psychologists use this test in an attempt to examine the personality characteristics and emotional functioning of their patients. This test is often employed in diagnosing underlying thought disorders and differentiating psychotic from non-psychotic thinking in cases where the patient is reluctant to openly admit to psychotic thinking (http://theinkblot.com/).

2. M. Weber, G. Roth and C. Wittich, Economy and Society: An outline of Interpretive Sociology, Vol. 1 (California: UC Press, 1978) and James A. Caporaso and David P. Levine, Theories of Political Economy (Cambridge University Press, 1992).

3. Robert K. Merton, "Bureaucratic Structure and Personality," Social Forces 18, no. 4 (1940): 560-568.

4. Ibid.

5. Jan van Dijk and Anneleen Winters-van Beek, "The Perspective of Network Government" in ICTs, Citizens & Governance: After the Hype!, eds A. Meijer et al (Netherlands: IOS Press, 2009).

6. B. Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism, Revised Edition. (London and New York: Verso, 1991).

7. M. Reihlen, M. (1996): The logic of heterarchies: Making organisations competitive for knowledge-based competition. Arbeitsberichte des Seminars für Allgemeine Betriebswirtschaftslehre, Betriebswirtschaftliche Planung und Logistik der Universität zu Köln.

8. Austin Bay, "Tunisia's remarkable revolt," Strategy Page, January 18, 2011, https://www.strategypage.com/on_point/20110118224752.aspx.

9. Ekaterina Stepanova, "The role of information communication technologies in the 'Arab Spring'," PONARS Eurasia Policy Memo no. 159, May 2011, http://pircenter.org/kosdata/page_doc/p2594_2.pdf.

10. Usage and population statistics, Internet World Stats, 2011.

11. David D. Kirkpatrick, "Tunisia leader flees and prime minister claims power," The New York Times, January 14, 2011, http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/15/world/africa/15tunis.html?pagewanted=all.

12. G.C. Mohn, The "Challengers": The driving forces behind the youth's demand for change in the Egyptian Uprising, 2012.

13. "Egypt protests a ticking time bomb: Analysts," The New Age (South Africa), January 27, 2011, http://www.thenewage.co.za/8894-1007-53-Egypt_protests_a_ticking_time_bomb_Analysts.

14. Daniel LaGraffe, "The youth bulge in Egypt: an intersection of demographics, security, and the Arab spring," Journal of Strategic Security 5, no. 2 (2012): 9.

15. Ekaterina Stepanova, "The role of information communication technologies in the 'Arab Spring'," PONARS Eurasia Policy Memo no. 159, May 2011, http://pircenter.org/kosdata/page_doc/p2594_2.pdf.

16. "Live blog 31/1—Egypt protests," Al Jazeera, January 31, 2011, http://blogs.aljazeera.com/blog/middle-east/live-blog-311-egypt-protests.

17. "El desempleo juvenil alcanza en España su mayor tasa en 16 años," La Voz de Galicia.

18. Al Goodman, "Thousands protest economic crisis, high unemployment in Spain," CNN, May 18, 2011, http://edition.cnn.com/2011/WORLD/europe/05/18/spain.protests/.

19. "Spain: Protesters defy ban with anti-government rallies," BBC, May 21, 2011, http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-13481592.

20. Greig Charnock, Thomas Purcell and Ramon Ribera-Fumaz (2012): "Indígnate! The 2011 popular protests and the limits to democracy in Spain," Capital & Class 36, no. 1 (2012): 3-11.

21. Alan Taylor, "Rising Protests in China," The Atlantic, February 17, 2012, http://www.theatlantic.com/infocus/2012/02/rising-protests-in-china/100247/; Sam Byfield, "Democracy comes to China via Wukan," East Asia Forum, April 7, 2012, http://www.eastasiaforum.org/2012/04/07/democracy-comes-to-china-via-wukan/

22. Alan Taylor, "Rising Protests in China," The Atlantic, February 17, 2012, http://www.theatlantic.com/infocus/2012/02/rising-protests-in-china/100247/; "A Dangerous Year," January 29, 2012, The Economist, http://www.economist.com/node/21543477.

23. Macabe Keliher and Hsin-Chao Wu, "Trashing the Script," Possible Futures, January 24, 2012, http://www.possible-futures.org/2012/01/24/trashing-the-script/#sthash.cMss8yVZ.dpuf.

24. Christina Larson, "Protests in China Get a Boost From Social Media," Bloomberg, October 29, 2012, http://www.businessweek.com/articles/2012-10-29/protests-in-china-get-a-boost-from-social-media#p1.

25. Simon Romero, "Protests Widen as Brazilians Chide Leaders," The New York Times, June 18, 2013, http://www.nytimes.com/2013/06/19/world/americas/brazilian-leaders-brace-for-more-protests.html.

26. Brian Winter, "Analysis: Brazil's protests: Not quite a 'Tropical Spring'," Reuters, June 19, 2013, http://www.reuters.com/article/2013/06/19/us-brazil-protests-impact-analysis-idUSBRE95I1LQ20130619.

27. Paul DiMaggio, Eszter Hargittai et al, "Social implications of the Internet," Annual Review of Sociology 27 (August 2001):307-336.

28. Ekaterina Stepanova, "The role of information communication technologies in the 'Arab Spring'," PONARS Eurasia Policy Memo no. 159, May 2011, http://pircenter.org/kosdata/page_doc/p2594_2.pdf.

29. Tahmina Anam, "Shahbag protesters versus the Butcher of Mirpur," The Guardian, February 13, 2013, http://www.theguardian.com/world/2013/feb/13/shahbag-protest-bangladesh-quader-mollah.

30. "China defends internet curbs to contain online rumours," The Economic Times, September 10, 2013, http://articles.economictimes.indiatimes.com/2013-09-10/news/41937650_1_online-rumours-chinese-internet-users-defamation-charges.

31. Ekaterina Stepanova, "The role of information communication technologies in the 'Arab Spring'," PONARS Eurasia Policy Memo no. 159, May 2011, http://pircenter.org/kosdata/page_doc/p2594_2.pdf.

32. M. Reihlen, "The logic of heterarchies: Making organisations competitive for knowledge-based competition," Arbeitsbericht nr91/Working Paper No. 91, Seminars für Allgemeine Betriebswirtschaftslehre, Betriebswirtschaftliche Planung und Logistik der Universität zu Köln, University of Cologne, Germany, 1996.

33. Manuel Castells and Gustavo Cardoso (eds), The Network Society: From Knowledge to Policy (Washington, USA: Johns Hopkins University, 2006).

11

1. eMarketer, Worldwide Social Network Users: 2013 Forecast and Comparative Estimates, 2013, pp. 24-46.

2. Internet started its life as ARPANET, a US military network for closed loop communication, and that legacy has informed to a certain extent the nature and direction of its development.

3. Adam Sadilek, John Krumm, "Far Out: Predicting Long-term Human Mobility', Proceedings of the Twenty-Sixth AAAI Conference on Artificial Intelligence, August 2013, pp. 814-815.

4. Sean Follmer, Daniel Leithinger, Alex Olwal, Akimitsu Hogge, Hiroshi Ishii, "InFORM: Dynamic Physical Affordances and Constraints through Shape and Object Actuation," MIT Media Lab, November 2013, pp. 1-5.

5. Ibid pp. 7-8.

6. A Mumbai-based start-up Traffline has built a real-time traffic information service that helps urban commuters in Mumbai, Delhi and Bangalore avoid traffic jams through a mobile application that integrates digital maps, Twitter updates, voice web and traffic details.

7. Bitcoin is a distributed, peer-to-peer digital currency that functions without the intermediation of any central authority. Bitcoin is called a 'cryptocurrency' as it is decentralised and uses cryptography to control transactions and prevent double- spending. Please go to http://bitcoin.org/bitcoin.pdf to access the originator Sakoshi Nakamoto's paper, "Bitcoin: A Peer-to-Peer Electronic Cash System."

8. Arjun Appadurai's body of work extensively details global cultural flows of ethnoscapes, mediascapes, technoscapes, financescapes, and ideoscapes.

9. Manuel Castells, The Rise of the Network Society, Wiley-Blackwell, West Sussex, 2010, pp. XVII-XVIII.

10. Usenet is a worldwide distributed Internet discussion system from the general purpose UUCP dial-up network architecture. Duke University graduate students, Tom Truscott and Jim Ellis, conceived the idea in 1979 and it was established in 1980. Users read and post messages to one or more categories, known as newsgroups.

11. Like several technologies associated directly or indirectly with cyberspace, RFID also had a military dimension. In 1945 Lev Sergeyevich Termen, also known as Léon Theremin, invented an espionage tool for the Soviet Union that re-transmitted incident radio waves with audio information, and this device is considered to be a predecessor of RFID technology.

12. Manuel Castells is the originator of this epistemological tool.

13. Ibid, pp. 445-446.

14. Henri Lefebvre has written extensively on the social production of space.

15. Ferdinand Tönnies evolved this conceptual distinction as a tool to understand the ordering of social ties (now called 'social networks').

16. Christian Ulrik Andersen, Søren Pold, "The Scripted Spaces of Urban Ubiquitous Computing: The Experience, Poetics, and Politics of Public Scripted Space," The Fibreculture Journal, no. 19 (2011): 3-4.

17. Ibid, 5-9.

18. Lavasa is a private, planned city spread across 25,000 acres being built near Pune in Maharashtra. It is stylistically based on the Italian town Portofino and is being developed by Hindustan Construction Company (HCC).

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