Eva Erman, Anders Uhlin-Legitimacy Beyond the State__ Re-examining the Democratic Credentials of Transnational Actors (Democracy Beyond the Nation State_ Transnational Actors and Global Governance) -.pdf

Legitimacy Beyond the State?
Related titles are:
DEMOCRACY BEYOND THE NATION STATE? TRANSNATIONAL ACTORS AND

GLOBAL GOVERNANCE (Edited by Christer Jönsson and Jonas Tallberg)
Advisory board: Yale Ferguson, Jean Grugel, Richard Higgott, Margaret Keck,
Robert Keohane, Morten Ougaard, Nicola Piper, Thomas Risse, and Jan Aart
Scholte
Other titles in the series are:
TRANSNATIONAL ACTORS IN GLOBAL GOVERNANCE: Patterns, Explanations

and Implications (Edited by Christer Jönsson and Jonas Tallberg)
DEMOCRACY AND PUBLIC-PRIVATE PARTNERSHIPS IN GLOBAL GOVERNANCE
(Edited by Magdalena Bexell and Ulrika Mörth)
Legitimacy Beyond the
State?
Re-examining the Democratic Credentials
of Transnational Actors
Edited by
Eva Erman
Stockholm University, Sweden
Anders Uhlin
Lund University, Sweden
Selection, editorial matter and Introduction © Eva Erman and
Anders Uhlin 2010
Foreword © Christer Jönsson, Jonas Tallberg, Eva Erman and
Anders Uhlin 2010
Chapters © their authors 2010
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Contents
List of Tables vii
Foreword viii
Notes on Contributors x
List of Abbreviations xiii
Part I Setting the Scene

1 Democratic Credentials of Transnational Actors: An
Introduction 3
Eva Erman and Anders Uhlin
2 Democratic Legitimacy of Transnational Actors: Mapping

Out the Conceptual Terrain 16
Anders Uhlin
Part II Democratic Credentials of Different

Transnational Actors
3 Democratic Legitimacy of Transnational Corporations in
Global Governance 41
Doris Fuchs, Agni Kalfagianni, and Julia Sattelberger
4 Democratic Legitimacy of Philanthropic Foundations: US

Grant-Making in the Middle East 64
Ann Vogel
5 Good Morals or Good Business? NGO Advocacy and the

World Bank’s 10th IDA 85
Christopher L. Pallas
6 Transnational Social Movements and Democratic

Legitimacy 110
Brigitte Beauzamy
7 Diaspora Groups, Transnational Activism, and Democratic

Legitimacy 130
Catarina Kinnvall and Bo Petersson
v
vi Contents
Part III Democratic Problems and Possibilities in a

Transnational Context
8 Democratic Credentials or Bridging Mechanisms?
Constituents, Representatives, and the Dual Politics of
Democratic Representation 153
Enrique Peruzzotti
9 Why Adding Democratic Values is Not Enough for Global

Democracy 173
Eva Erman
10 Conclusion: Transnational Actors and Global Democracy 194

Index 214
List of Tables
2.1 Democratic legitimacy of transnational actors: Key

democratic values 24
2.2 Questions for evaluating democratic legitimacy of
transnational actors 33
4.1 Illustrative grants by the Ford Foundation for human
rights, a core democratic value 79
vii
Foreword
This is one in a series of three edited volumes, published simulta-

neously. The other two are Transnational Actors in Global Governance:
Patterns, Explanations and Implications, edited by Christer Jönsson and
Jonas Tallberg; and Democracy and Public-Private Partnerships in Global
Governance, edited by Magdalena Bexell and Ulrika Mörth. All three
owe their origin to two partly overlapping research undertakings that
go under the labels of Transdemos and Transaccess. The full title of
the Transdemos program, which engages political scientists from Lund
and Stockholm University, is ‘Democracy Beyond the Nation State?
Transnational Actors and Global Governance’ (see www.transdemos.se).
The program receives generous long-term funding from the Riksbankens
Jubileumsfond (RJ). Transaccess stands for ‘The Institutional Design
of International Institutions: Legitimacy, Effectiveness, and Distribu-
tion in Global Governance’ (see www.statsvet.su.se/English/Research/
transaccess.html). Located at Stockholm University, this project bene-
fits from a substantial grant from the European Research Council (ERC).
The financial contributions by RJ and ERC are gratefully acknowledged.
Both research initiatives commenced in 2008. Early on, the partic-
ipants agreed to draw on their extensive international contacts in a
joint effort to summarize extant research on transnational actors and
their role in democratizing global governance. We asked potential con-
tributors to characterize, and identify gaps in, our present knowledge,
theoretically as well as empirically. Thus, we aimed at volumes that
would not only outline the state of the art but also suggest new research
problems and directions. The fact that, in a relatively short time, we
were able to collect these three volumes testifies to the enthusiastic and
obliging response to our proposal among those who were asked to par-
ticipate. In April 2009, we arranged a workshop in Lund around the
themes of the three volumes. In addition to most of the contribut-
ing authors, several members of the international advisory board of
Transdemos participated. We are all grateful for constructive comments
on draft chapters by Yale Ferguson, Robert Keohane, Morten Ougaard,
Nicola Piper, and Jan Aart Scholte.
The themes of the three volumes reflect the broad research ques-
tions of the Transdemos program. The first set of questions, which are
also central to the Transaccess project, concern the increasing partici-
pation by transnational actors in intergovernmental organizations and
viii
Foreword ix
global forums. Why, in what ways, and with what consequences are
transnational actors allowed into traditional global governance institu-
tions? These questions are addressed, and expanded on, in the volume
edited by Jönsson and Tallberg. A second set of questions concern
the mushrooming in recent decades of so-called public–private part-
nerships as alternatives or complements to traditional international
organizations in tackling global problem areas. Why have these hybrid
organizational entities emerged at this time? What different forms can
‘partnerships’ assume? Are they really the win–win solutions they are
often depicted as? The volume edited by Bexell and Mörth speaks to
these and other questions concerning public–private partnerships. A
final set of questions concern the character of transnational actors them-
selves. How is their expanding role in global governance legitimized? As
transnational actors frequently claim to contribute to the democratiza-
tion of global governance, it is natural to raise questions concerning
their own democratic credentials. Their claims to speak on behalf of
deprived and voiceless groups in the world give rise to questions con-
cerning whom they represent and to whom they are accountable. This
problematique is treated in the present volume.
‘Democracy’ is a key concept in all three volumes, as in the
Transdemos program. The common notion that transnational actors
may provide a remedy to the alleged ‘democratic deficit’ of global gov-
ernance, in general, and international organizations, in particular, is an
important focus of our inquiries. To critically examine this notion, we
have solicited contributions, not only from International Relations (IR)
specialists, but also from political theorists. In addition to illuminat-
ing our three themes from different angles, this raises crucial questions
concerning research design. How can insights from empirical IR studies
be combined with normative political theory and how can future col-
laborative research involving both subdisciplines be organized? These
questions constitute challenges that are tentatively addressed in this
series of volumes.
It is our hope that the three volumes, individually or in combina-
tion, will contribute to our knowledge of an increasingly important
aspect of IR and inspire new research efforts. The multifaceted role
of transnational actors in global governance remains an insufficiently
charted territory.
January 2010
Christer Jönsson, Lund Jonas Tallberg, Stockholm
Director Transdemos Director Transaccess
Eva Erman, Stockholm Anders Uhlin, Lund
Notes on Contributors
Brigitte Beauzamy holds a PhD in Sociology from the Ecole des Hautes
Etudes en Sciences Sociales. She is currently a Marie Curie Fellow
at the University of Warwick. Her research deals with direct action
in transnational movements and the relationships between local and
transnational mobilizations. She recently co-edited La Diversité Culturelle
en France et au Danemark. Une Approche Comparée (2010).
Eva Erman is Associate Professor of Political Science at Stockholm Uni-
versity and a Pro Futura Fellow at Uppsala University. Her research
interests are in political philosophy and political theory, with particu-
lar focus on democratic theory, global justice, human rights, and global
governance. Erman is the author of Human Rights and Democracy: Dis-
course Theory and Global Rights Institutions (2005) and has also published
articles on communicative action, moral conflict, and discourse ethics
in journals such as Political Theory and Philosophy & Social Criticism, as
well as on democracy and global governance in Review of International
Studies and Ethics & International Affairs. She is the chief editor of Ethics
& Global Politics, an international journal seeking to integrate normative
philosophy and political theory with political problems related to pro-
cesses and phenomena that transgress traditional distinctions between
regional, national, international, and global levels of politics.
Doris Fuchs is Professor of International Relations and Development at
the Westfälische Wilhelms-Universität Münster, Germany. She received
her PhD in Politics and Economics in 1997 from the Claremont Grad-
uate University and has since taught at the University of Michigan,
Louisiana State University, the University of Munich, the University of
Stuttgart, as well as the Leipzig Graduate School of Management. Her
primary areas of research are private governance, sustainable develop-
ment, food politics and policy, and corporate structural and discursive
power. Among her publications are Business Power in Global Governance
(2007) and An Institutional Basis for Environmental Stewardship (2003), as
well as articles in Millennium, Global Environmental Politics, International
Interactions, the Journal on Consumer Policy, and Energy Policy.
x
Notes on Contributors xi
Agni Kalfagianni is Assistant Professor at the Institute for Environmen-

tal Studies (IVM), VU University Amsterdam, The Netherlands. Her main
research interests are in global food and environmental governance,
with a special focus on the role of private actors, such as retail corpo-
rations. She is interested in the democratic challenges posed for global
(food) governance by increasingly powerful private institutions, such
as private retail standards and corporate social responsibility initiatives.
Agni is the author of Transparency in the Food Chain: Policies and Politics
(2006) as well as articles in Agriculture and Human Values and International
Review of Retail, Distribution and Consumer Research.
Catarina Kinnvall is Associate Professor at the Department of Politi-

cal Science, Lund University, Sweden, and former Vice-President of the
International Society of Political Psychology (ISPP). Her research inter-
ests involve political psychology, globalization, religion, and national-
ism, with a particular focus on South Asia and Europe. Her publications
include The Political Psychology of Globalization: Muslims in the West
(2010), On Behalf of Others: The Psychology of Care in a Global World
(co-edited, 2009), Globalization and Religious Nationalism in India: The
Search for Ontological Security (2006), and Globalization and Democrati-
zation in Asia: The Construction of Identity (co-edited, 2002).
Christopher L. Pallas is Adjunct Professor in the Graduate Program in

International Affairs at the New School for Social Research in New York.
In 2010 he is also a T.H. Marshall Fellow at the University of Bremen. He
recently completed his doctoral research at the Centre for Civil Society
at the London School of Economics. His primary research interests are
global governance, transnational civil society, democracy, and African
development, with a particular focus on the World Bank and advocacy
NGOs. He has previously worked as an NGO Advisor in West Africa and
as a consultant to US businesses looking to engage with the World Bank.
His work has appeared in Development Policy Review and Development in
Practice.
Enrique Peruzzotti is Associate Professor at the Department of Polit-

ical Science and International Studies at Torcuato Di Tella Univer-
sity in Buenos Aires and researcher of CONICET. His main research
interests are democratic theory and Latin American politics. He has
co-edited Participatory Innovation and Representative Democracy in Latin
America (2009), El Retorno del Pueblo: Populismo en las Nuevas Democracias
Latinoamericanas (2008), Enforcing the Rule of Law: Social Accountability in
Latin America (2006), and Controlando la Política. Ciudadanos y Medios en
xii Notes on Contributors
las Nuevas Democracias (2002). He has also published numerous book

chapters and articles in journals, such as Global Governance, Citizen-
ship Studies, Journal of Democracy, and Constellations: An International
Journal of Critical and Democratic Theory. He is currently working on a
book-length project on democratic representation.
Bo Petersson, PhD, political science, is Professor of Global Political Stud-
ies at Malmö University, Sweden. His special areas of theoretical interest
include nationalism, diaspora, multiculturalism, enemy images, stereo-
typing, and xenophobia, and in geographical terms he has largely come
to specialize in political developments in Europe, Russia, and Central
Asia. His major publications in English include Stories about Strangers:
Swedish Media Constructions of Socio-Cultural Risk (2006), National Self-
Images and Regional Identities in Russia (2001), and Majority Cultures and
the Everyday Politics of Difference (co-edited, 2008).
Julia Sattelberger is Research Fellow at the Max Planck Institute for Pub-
lic International Law in Heidelberg. She is currently working on her PhD
project on law and governance within development cooperation and
holds a degree in political science from the University of Münster.
Anders Uhlin is Associate Professor of Political Science at Lund Univer-

sity. His main research interests are in comparative and international
politics, with a special focus on processes of democratization, civil soci-
ety activism, and transnational relations. He is the author of Post-Soviet
Civil Society (2006), Indonesia and the ‘Third Wave of Democratization’
(1997), and co-editor of Transnational Activism in Asia (2004). He has
written many book chapters and articles in journals, such as Cooperation
and Conflict, Global Governance, International Political Science Review, and
Third World Quarterly.
Ann Vogel is Assistant Professor of Sociology at Singapore Management
University. Holding a PhD from University of Washington, Seattle, her
research interest is in the areas of economic sociology, industrial soci-
ology, and social theory. Her three current research programs cover gift
economy, especially non-profit volunteering and philanthropy, remit-
tance economy, and globalization of civil society. She has published on
philanthropy and civil society in British Journal of Sociology, Organiza-
tion, Citizenship Studies, and Actes de la Recherche en Sciences Sociales. Her
ongoing writing includes a book manuscript on the integration of film
festivals into the global commodity chain of film. Vogel has also been a
consultant to ILO and Unifem Singapore on foreign domestic workers,
and has been writing on social mobility and gender inequality emerging
in remittance-economic structures of Pakistan and Nepal.
List of Abbreviations
ACEA European Automobile Manufacturers Association

ADF African Development Foundation
AIDS acquired immune deficiency syndrome
AIPAC America-Israel Public Affairs Committee
AMGT Avrupa Milli Görus Teskilatari
ATTAC Association for the Taxation of Financial Transactions for
the Aid of Citizens
BIC Bank Information Center
BMW Bayerische Motoren Werke
CBs Certified Bodies
CO2 carbon dioxide
COP15 UN Climate Change Conference
CPI consumer price index
CSO civil society organization
DAN Direct Action Network
DGAP Development GAP
EC European Commission
EDF Environmental Defense Fund
EU European Union
EUREP Euro-retailers Produce Working Group
FAVDO Forum of African Voluntary Development Organizations
FDI foreign direct investment
FoE Friends of the Earth
GATT General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade
GEF Global Environment Facility
GJM Global Justice Movement
HIV human immunodeficiency virus
IDA International Development Association
IGO intergovernmental organization
IMF International Monetary Fund
INGO international non-governmental organization
IO international organization
IR International Relations
IRA Irish Republican Army
IRN International Rivers Network
xiii
xiv List of Abbreviations
ISAF International Security Assistance Force

ISEAL International Social and Environmental Accreditation
and Labelling
MDB multilateral development bank
MSC Marine Stewardship Council
NBA Narmada Bachao Andolan
NGO non-governmental organization
NGOWG non-governmental organization working group
NOVIB Nederlandse Organisatie Voor Internationale Bijstand
NRDC Natural Resources Defense Council
NWF National Wildlife Federation
OECD Organisation for Economic Co-operation and
Development
OIC Organization of the Islamic Conference
PLO Palestine Liberation Organization
PPP public–private partnership/private–private partnership
RSS Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (the Association of
National Volunteers)
SAS Scandinavian Airlines
SMO social movement organization
TNA transnational actor
TNC transnational corporation
UK United Kingdom
UN United Nations
UNDP United Nations Development Program
UNESCO United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural
Organization
UNCTAD United Nations Conference on Trade and Development
US United States
VHP Vishwa Hindu Parishad (World Council of Hindus)
WHO World Health Organization
WTO World Trade Organization
WWF World Wildlife Fund
Part I
Setting the Scene
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1
Democratic Credentials of
Transnational Actors: An
Introduction
Introduction
From 7 to 18 December 2009, Copenhagen was the site of the 15th

UN Climate Change Conference (COP15). Official delegates represent-
ing 192 states gathered to discuss how to meet the challenge of global
climate change. While formal decision-making power rested with state
representatives, a large number of non-state transnational actors (TNAs)
were active in Copenhagen. Not only did a transnational epistemic
community of scientists play an important role; representatives of non-
governmental organizations (NGOs) were also granted access to the
conference as observers. As such, they were heard in plenary discus-
sions, hosted side events and press conferences, and were invited to
contribute specialist submissions to negotiations. The participation of
many of the NGO activists from around the world was made possible
by funding from philanthropic foundations supporting an environmen-
tal agenda. Moreover, business interests had a strong presence at the
conference. On the official conference website (http://en.cop15.dk/), a
number of transnational corporations (TNCs) (such as BMW, Honda,
Mercedes-Benz, and SAS) were presented as sponsors of the event. Cli-
mate Consortium Denmark was the official focal point for Danish
business-related activities leading up to the conference. Representatives
of TNCs participated in a number of panels and workshops. Other
types of TNAs tried to influence the conference from outside. Various
transnational social movements mobilized people for demonstrations
and other protest activities, questioning the legitimacy of the state repre-
sentatives and their ability to agree on international cooperation to meet
the challenge of climate change. On 12 December, an estimated 40,000
3
4 Introduction
people joined a mostly peaceful march toward the suburban conference

center.
The democratic qualities of global governance, such as the UN Cli-
mate Change Conference, are increasingly challenged. Traditionally,
international organizations have been regarded as legitimized by their
ability to effectively solve problems and by the consent of nation-state
governments. Today, however, there is wide agreement among scholars
and practitioners that these organizations, as well as other global gover-
nance arrangements, suffer from a democratic deficit. In the discussion
about democracy and democratization beyond the nation-state, TNAs –
that is, non-state actors acting across state borders – are increasingly
emphasized as playing a vital role (cf. Bexell et al., 2010). During recent
years there has been a strong tendency toward more participation of
TNAs (such as civil society and business actors) in international organi-
zations and other forms of global governance, and most international
organizations today have opened up both formal and informal avenues
for this participation (Steffek et al., 2008).
Our initial account of the Copenhagen conference illustrates the
diversity of TNAs involved in global policy-making. However, there is
still a lack of systematic research on the democratic aspects of this polit-
ical engagement. Very little focus has been directed to the kinds of
questions concerning democracy and democratic legitimacy that par-
ticipation of different kinds of TNAs raises. This problem is a point of
departure of this volume. We claim that any comprehensive analysis
of the democratic potential of TNAs in global governance must exam-
ine their own democratic credentials. If the democratic qualities of the
participating actors are questionable, the democratic legitimacy of the
governance arrangement is in doubt. In other words, the question is
whether a global governance arrangement in which the participating
actors themselves are not democratically constituted could be demo-
cratically legitimate. Since most research on democratic aspects of TNA
participation in global governance has focused on the democratic quali-
ties of the global governance arrangement at large – not the participating
TNAs specifically – this question has largely been left unanswered. In
order to fill this void, we examine the democratic credentials of TNAs.
For this purpose, different kinds of questions need to be asked. One
set of questions concerns the organizational structure of these actors.
To what extent are they internally democratic and/or accountable to
their constituencies and members? Can their participation in interna-
tional policy-making be a solution to the lack of global democracy if
they suffer from an internal democratic deficit? Another set of questions
Eva Erman and Anders Uhlin 5
springs from democratic theory. How do different types of TNAs

fare when measured against different democratic theories and norma-
tive ideals? Are some democratic theories more suitable to transfer
from the nation-state to the global level? A third set of questions cuts
across the other two, being concerned with the different democratic val-
ues that are highlighted when empirically studying and theorizing the
role of TNAs in global democracy, e.g., representation, participation,
transparency, and accountability. What forms of representation and
accountability are empirically viable and normatively desirable for dif-
ferent types of TNAs? These are the kind of interrelated, broad questions
that will be addressed in the present volume.
Existing research on democracy and global governance tends to fall
into one of two categories. On the one hand, there is a huge liter-
ature within the field of normative democratic theory, which often
suffers from a lack of references to empirical observations of actual
processes. Most notably, the cosmopolitan democratic ideal of devis-
ing global political decision-making within a global political space is
accused of being too idealistic and detached from reality. On the other
hand, there is a growing empirically oriented literature on legitimacy
and accountability in global governance, which tends to lack a firm
base in democratic theory and normative theorizing, hence being rather
technical and less concerned with the specifically democratic aspects
of legitimacy and accountability. This volume aims at bridging the gap
between normative democratic theory and empirical research on the
legitimacy of TNAs participating in global governance.
Theoretically, the book offers a framework for analyzing democratic
legitimacy, which goes beyond the technical discussion of accountabil-
ity mechanisms found in much contemporary research on TNAs. It deals
with the representative claims of TNAs in an innovative way and criti-
cally examines how previous research on TNAs and global governance
has elaborated the question of democratic legitimacy. Empirically, the
book includes case studies of different kinds of TNAs, ranging from
TNCs and philanthropic foundations to transnational NGOs, social
movements and diaspora groups. Each case study inquires into the
democratic qualities of a particular TNA in relation to different aspects
of legitimacy and different democratic values, like representation, par-
ticipation, transparency, accountability, and deliberation. Unlike most
previous research we compare the democratic credentials of a wide
spectrum of TNAs – not only NGOs, which until now have received
most attention. We inquire into the question of whether different
kinds of actors have, and should have, the same democratic qualities,
6 Introduction
or if they in fact should play different democratic roles in global

governance.
In the remaining part of this introductory chapter, we first review
some important studies in this field and specify in what way our contri-
bution differs from previous research. We then discuss the central con-
cepts of TNAs, democracy and democratic legitimacy. Finally, we outline
the structure of the book and highlight the specific contributions of each
chapter.
Moving beyond previous research on TNAs’ democratic

credentials
As noted earlier, there has been an unfortunate division of labor, and

consequently a lack of cross-fertilization, between democratic theory
and empirical research on democracy beyond the nation-state. Further-
more, previous research on the legitimacy of transnational civil society
has to a large extent failed to elaborate the democratic aspects of TNA
engagement in governance beyond the nation-state, on the one hand,
and has suffered from a lack of systematic comparison of different TNAs,
on the other. The present volume has both a broader and a narrower
focus than previous work in this field. Broader because it moves beyond
the exclusive focus on civil society actors to include a wide range of
TNAs in comparative perspective; narrower because, instead of dealing
with legitimacy and accountability as general concepts, it focuses on
the democratic conceptions of legitimacy and accountability. It is the
combination of a focus on democratic credentials specifically and the
coverage of a broad variety of TNAs that makes this volume innovative.
The question of the legitimacy of transnational civil society actors has
received some recent scholarly attention, with Alison Van Rooy (2004)
and David Brown (2008) offering particularly systematic and thorough
contributions. Van Roy usefully disaggregates the concept of legitimacy
in relation to civil society organizations (CSOs) in a global context. She
offers a rather detailed analysis of representation, understood in terms of
the nature of membership as well as internal democracy of transnational
CSOs. Moreover, she identifies a number of other legitimacy rules, for
instance related to rights-based claims, expertise, moral authority, and
independence. In a similar fashion, Brown develops approaches to assess
the legitimacy and accountability of transnational CSOs. In particular,
he stresses ways in which CSOs themselves can enhance their legitimacy,
as single organizations as well as on the level of civil society sectors and
in campaigns involving partnerships with CSOs from different sectors.
Both Van Roy and Brown have long experience of transnational CSOs,
and the books are written from an explicit civil society perspective, aim-
ing at offering useful approaches for civil society practitioners. However,
in contrast to the present volume, neither of these books tries to differ-
entiate between democratic and non-democratic sources of legitimacy,
nor do they compare the legitimacy of transnational civil society actors
with the legitimacy of other types of TNAs.
Focusing on accountability rather than legitimacy, Ebrahim and
Weisband (2007) also make interesting contributions to this field.
Unlike much other writing on accountability issues in a global con-
text, most contributors to this volume treat accountability as a socially
constructed means of control. Avoiding the technical character of ratio-
nalist accounts of the accountability of CSOs, TNCs, and international
organizations, the authors emphasize the need to base accountability
procedures in different cultural, social, and political contexts. However,
while going beyond the focus on civil society to include other types
of TNAs as well, they fail to distinguish between democratic and non-
democratic forms of accountability, which is of primary concern in this
book. By contrast, Klaus Dingwerth (2007) does focus specifically on
democratic legitimacy and elaborates the useful distinctions between
input, throughput, and output legitimacy. Nevertheless, his focus is
on public–private partnerships in the environmental area, not TNAs
participating in these partnerships.
Turning to less empirically oriented contributions to research on
democratic credentials of TNAs, the work by Terry Macdonald (2008)
deserves special attention. Within normative political theory, much lit-
erature on legitimacy on the global level of politics has tended to focus
on questions of rights and duties and the distribution of social and eco-
nomic goods. With a sensitive eye to empirical conditions, Macdonald
sets out to develop an ambitious non-ideal normative theory, theo-
rizing the democratic credentials of TNAs, with a focus on political
power and representation. Her theory of ‘global stakeholder democracy’
focuses on NGOs, but she claims that the theory should be applicable
to other actors in global governance, too. Macdonald argues that dif-
ferent democratic requirements should be applied to different actors,
based on the forms of power exercised by the actor rather than any
organizational typology. NGOs exercise different forms of power com-
pared to states, and therefore forms of democratic representation must
be different (Macdonald, 2008: 6). Relying on one version of the all-
affected principle, Macdonald (2008: 40) argues that ‘individuals should
be entitled to participate in any political decision-making that impacts
8 Introduction
in problematic ways upon their autonomous capacities.’ This means that

not all stakeholders are democratic stakeholders. Only those problemat-
ically affected in an autonomy-constraining way could claim a right to
democratic participation.
Whereas Macdonald’s analysis is limited to NGOs with privileged
access to international organizations, our approach is much broader.
NGOs and other TNAs have the potential to influence global governance
in a number of ways that do not involve formal participation in global
policy-making. For example, protest activities and media campaigns by
transnational NGOs and social movements, and secret lobbying as well
as investment decisions by TNCs, might provide these actors with more
clout than does formal access to global decision-making bodies. Hence,
we find it useful to broaden the focus to include not only different types
of TNAs, but also different global governance contexts in which they act.
Transnational actors, democracy, and democratic legitimacy
We define TNAs as non-state actors that act across state borders. This
is a broad concept covering a wide range of actors. In the early 1970s,
International Relations (IR) scholars, challenging the dominant state-
centric neorealist paradigm, emphasized the influence by TNCs on
world politics. With a renewed interest in transnational relations in
the 1990s, focus shifted to transnational civil society actors. The polit-
ical impact of NGOs, advocacy networks, and social movements acting
across state borders was analyzed in numerous studies. More diffuse
actors, like diaspora groups and other communities of transnational
migrants, also figured prominently in academic research. During the last
decade, and especially since the terrorist attacks on 11 September 2001,
much focus has been directed toward transnational terrorist groups and
other criminal networks.
There is no agreement on how to distinguish between different types
of TNAs. A number of dimensions – such as the principal ideas and
motivation of the actors, their internal structure, and their autonomy
and power – have been put forward as distinguishing characteristics.
Despite the diverging views on how best to categorize TNAs, however,
most contemporary IR scholars agree that TNAs do matter in world pol-
itics (Arts et al., 2001; Risse, 2002). To the extent that TNAs are actually
powerful actors which have autonomy-constraining impact on peoples’
lives, the question of democratic control of these actors becomes impor-
tant. Moreover, when certain TNAs – NGOs and TNCs in particular – are
given privileged access to global policy-making and this increased TNA
participation in global governance is seen as a way to develop global

democracy, questions about the democratic credentials of TNAs them-
selves become acute. In sum, analyzing the democratic credentials of
TNAs is important to the extent that these actors have a significant
influence on global governance, not necessarily because they claim to
be democratic (which many do not).
In order to cover types of TNAs that figure prominently in global
governance but differ considerably on aspects such as principal ideas,
internal structure, and power, we include chapters on TNCs, philan-
thropic foundations, advocacy NGOs, social movements, and diaspora
groups. These are arguably the most important types of TNAs when
analyzing problems of democracy and democratization in global gov-
ernance. There are of course TNAs which are not included in this
volume. Transnational terrorist and criminal networks are powerful
actors, but they are generally considered illegitimate. Most people would
argue that such actors should be abolished rather than democratized.
Hence, they fall outside our analysis of democratic legitimacy. Moreover,
transgovernmental actors are sometimes counted as a kind of TNA. How-
ever, unlike the other types of actors discussed here, transgovernmental
actors are not non-state actors. The term transgovernmental refers to
‘sub-units of governments on those occasions when they act relatively
autonomously from higher authority in international politics’ (Keohane
and Nye, 1974: 41). This does not only refer to sub-units of the central
government but also to local government actors. As state actors they are
arguably subject to a different logic of democratic legitimacy and there-
fore not included in this study. Furthermore, when several types of TNAs
interact with each other as well as with states and international organi-
zations, different kinds of public–private or private–private partnerships
are formed. Such networks may also have agency, but examining the
democratic credentials of transnational partnerships goes beyond the
scope of this volume (see Bexell and Mörth, 2010).
This volume thus rests on two pillars, TNAs and democracy, and the
overall aim is to investigate the dialectics between them. We exam-
ine how different TNAs could and ought to be understood from a
democratic perspective, as well as how global democracy could and
ought to accommodate TNAs in its normative and empirical archi-
tecture. The term global democracy should not be interpreted as one
conception of democracy. Rather, it is meant to capture all concep-
tions of democracy beyond the nation-state, such as cosmopolitan
democracy, transnational democracy and deliberative global gover-
nance. When questions are raised about global democracy, they concern
10 Introduction
how best to rethink ‘the rule by the people’ in a globalized world, in

order to come up with solutions to the question of how to make democ-
racy applicable to the regulation of global issues. In the present volume,
this enterprise is primarily looked upon in relation to the democratic
credentials of TNAs.
Before we start asking questions about TNAs and democratic legiti-
macy, however, we should clarify the way in which the relationship
between democracy and legitimacy is defined. A democratic system con-
sists of (at least) two parts: a political authority and a citizenry/demos,
that is, a group of people subject to this authority. To say that a state
has authority is thus to say that the state and its subjects have a certain
kind of relationship. The concept of legitimacy is used to describe this
relationship. Further, what we are concerned with here is the norma-
tive notion of political authority (morally legitimate authority) rather
than the non-normative notion, i.e., de facto authority, which means
that legitimacy refers to this relationship as being of a particular norma-
tive kind. While there are many ways to ground rightful authority, for
example, through tacit consent (John Locke), what is of interest here is
one kind of legitimacy, namely the democratic conception of legitimate
authority. We think it is important to stress the distinction between
democratic legitimacy and other kinds of legitimacy, because in much
of the literature on the democratic deficit of global governance, these
are either conflated or legitimacy is defined too vaguely, for example,
as effective performance or the delivery of some rightful goods (welfare,
rights and so on).
The concept of legitimacy derives from the Roman and Medieval
concept of ‘legitimus’ – which denoted the legitimate ruler and accom-
modated the concept of legality – but became intimately connected to
the concept of sovereignty from the era of the absolutist monarchy.
During the Enlightenment, legitimacy increasingly became a secularized
concept, anchored to an idea of a free consent of the society (Delbrück,
2003: 32). What is specific about democratic legitimacy is that it is
not enough for a political authority to satisfy some rightful ends, it
must also derive from a rightful source, which is the people, commonly
articulated through the principle of popular sovereignty. Even though
the question of how best to realize this principle is highly contested
among democratic theorists, it is agreed that democratic legitimacy gets
its authorization from the people (Beetham, 1998). The question is:
how should these democratic ideas be understood in a global context?
And more specifically for our purposes, what democratic merits must
TNAs hold in order to play a democratic role in global governance?
In different ways, each of the chapters in this volume will address this
latter concern.
Outline of the book
The book is divided into three parts. Part I, consisting of this chapter
and Chapter 2, introduces the main research problems and concepts in
this field. It is intended to set the scene for the following analysis. Part II
(Chapters 3–7) offers analyses of the democratic credentials of different
types of TNAs. Case studies of TNCs, philanthropic foundations, advo-
cacy NGOs, social movements, and diasporas highlight the diversity
of democratic legitimacy issues related to TNAs. Part III, finally, while
drawing on insights from the previous chapters, also moves beyond a
focus on the democratic legitimacy of specific TNAs. It further prob-
lematizes approaches in the previous chapters and discusses theoretical
implications of the analysis.
Based on a review of previous research, Anders Uhlin, in Chapter 2,
maps out the conceptual terrain concerning the democratic legitimacy
of TNAs. He suggests a framework that goes beyond the mechanical dis-
cussion of specific accountability mechanisms found in much previous
research. First, Uhlin analyzes some important dimensions that distin-
guish different kinds of TNAs. Thereafter, focus is directed to input,
throughput and output legitimacy as well as democratic values, like
representation, transparency, accountability, participation, and deliber-
ation. Input legitimacy is concerned with the relationship between the
actor and its constituencies or people affected by its activities. Through-
put legitimacy refers to the actual procedures for decision-making
within the actor. Output legitimacy focuses on the consequences of the
actor’s decisions and other activities. The aim of this chapter is not to
establish firm definitions of these terms and develop a detailed frame-
work to be applied in the case studies included in the volume. Rather,
it introduces some concepts, general perspectives and questions, which
the authors of the subsequent chapters relate to and develop further.
Moving on to Part II, Doris Fuchs, Agni Kalfagianni, and Julia
Sattelberger in Chapter 3 investigate the democratic legitimacy of TNCs
as actors in global governance. TNCs play increasingly prominent roles
in both private and public rule-making on a global level. Empirically,
the chapter focuses on cases of private and public environmental gov-
ernance. Fuchs et al. argue that, as TNCs are not elected by a demos,
their role as rule-makers is controversial and must be critically exam-
ined. According to the authors, neither input nor output legitimacy
12 Introduction
apply to self- and co-regulatory efforts by TNCs. Instead they argue

that the democratic legitimacy of TNCs is best discussed in terms of
the traditional democratic notions of participation, transparency, and
accountability. The role of TNCs in both public and private governance,
however, reveals rather strong deficits as regards these requirements for
democracy.
In Chapter 4, Ann Vogel examines the democratic credentials of
philanthropic foundations. Using US philanthropic foundations as an
empirical case, her chapter addresses the lack of accountability in
philanthropy and discusses how it applies to domestic and interna-
tional grant-making. Introducing the foundation as an elite actor with
oligopolistic power in the arena of international non-profit organiza-
tions, she uses empirical data on foundation grants to the Middle East
to explore democratic credentials and legitimacy deficits.
As Vogel argues, her regional focus highlights the multi-stage perfor-
mance of US philanthropy, and serves to sharpen the analytic problem
of the legitimacy of these TNAs in the arena of global governance and
global civil society. While examining ‘US philanthropy abroad,’ the
chapter focuses on the transmission of democratic values, thus bring-
ing into analytic interplay the problematic relationship between input
and output legitimacy.
Examining democratic credentials of transnational advocacy NGOs,
Christopher Pallas in Chapter 5 focuses on the negotiations surround-
ing the 10th replenishment of funds for the World Bank’s International
Development Association. Advocacy NGOs from the US, along with a
handful of allies, used their political expertise and domestic influence to
force cuts in IDA funding via the US Congress. Although they claimed
to be acting on behalf of Southern populations, they ignored the objec-
tions of the majority of other civil society participants, including those
from the global South. Pallas’ analysis of NGO behavior indicates that
pre-existing missions and funding worked together to determine the
policy positions espoused by different NGOs. This finding challenges
the legitimacy of the claims made by many NGO activists to represent
stakeholders beyond their organization’s membership or key funders.
In Chapter 6, Brigitte Beauzamy examines how contemporary
transnational social movements place debates about democracy at the
center of their political discourses and what happens when they turn
such discourses into action. Transnational activists tend to portray
themselves as champions of democracy and put a high value on the
democratic nature of their mobilizations, even though in many cases the
exact content associated with the idea of democracy remains unclear.
Focusing on what is commonly called the ‘Global Justice Movement,’

Beauzamy examines how democratic principles are mobilized in the
movement’s self-description yet materialize differently, according to the
settings in which they are to take place. For example, democracy gets a
deliberative meaning in wider general assemblies, but direct democracy
remains the key reference for smaller groups engaged in designing direct
action.
Catarina Kinnvall and Bo Petersson argue, in Chapter 7, that diaspora
groups are potential key players in the relations between homeland
and host states and can quite tangibly affect political developments
in both, as well as have an impact on various aspects of global gov-
ernance. Examining the democratic credentials of diaspora groups, the
chapter explores how discourses on globalization, terror, and multicul-
tural policies have affected the extent to which some of these groups
turn to radical Islam or search for more moderate alternatives, but
also how these groups are internally constituted in terms of legitimacy
and accountability. Theoretically the authors focus on the relationship
between diaspora politics, transnational activism, and democratic legit-
imacy, while empirically they examine activism among young Muslims
in Europe.
Part III begins with an innovative problematization of the politics of
representation. In Chapter 8, Enrique Peruzzotti argues that the polit-
ical landscape of democratic representation is becoming increasingly
complex. New developments and claims have led to the proliferation
of arenas at domestic, regional, and global levels, which create oppor-
tunities for actors to launch themselves as representatives. Generally,
these newcomers are self-appointed organizations without members,
which often lack a clearly defined constituency as well as an explicit
electoral authorization from those they claim to represent. Peruzzotti
proposes a relational understanding of democratic representation, rest-
ing on both active constituents and representatives. He distinguishes
between two dimensions of democratic representation: a mirror and
a creative one. The former refers to representative claims that seek to
reflect an already constituted interest or identity, whereas the latter
refers to abstract and normative claims that do not necessarily reflect
existing constituencies. Focusing on advocacy NGOs, Peruzzotti argues
that mirror notions of representation are inadequate for evaluating the
contribution of such actors to the practice of democratic representation.
Concluding the chapter, he suggests a redirection of the debate from
the issue of democratic credentials of specific actors to the question of
bridging mechanisms between constituents and representatives.
14 Introduction
In Chapter 9, Eva Erman takes a critical look at democracy and

democratic legitimacy in a transnational context. The demand for the
democratization of global governance has led to numerous suggestions
as to how to rethink democracy globally and remedy the democratic
deficit of international organizations, in which TNAs should partici-
pate more actively. Rather than focusing on different TNAs, this chapter
focuses on their political context of action and what democratic role
they are ascribed in global democracy in the contemporary interna-
tional relations literature. The aim is to examine the conceptualization
of democracy and democratic legitimacy in these proposals. Erman
analyzes the major tendency to defend a so-called additive view of
democracy. According to this view, democracy is defined as a number of
core values or qualities; and a basic presumption is that the more these
values are strengthened or promoted, the more democracy we get. Pop-
ular candidates for core democratic values are inclusion, deliberation,
accountability, and transparency. While Erman argues that the additive
view is unclear with respect to its democratic content, the chapter is
not a normative contribution to this debate but rather an attempt to
identify some major pitfalls that ought to be avoided when theorizing
transnational democracy and the legitimacy of global governance.
In the concluding chapter, Eva Erman and Anders Uhlin analyze the
theoretical and empirical findings in the volume. Drawing on the indi-
vidual chapters, they offer a comprehensive analysis of the different
democratic requirements applicable to different types of TNAs. They also
examine potential trade-offs between different democratic values. Ana-
lyzing implications of the volume for normative theorizing on global
democracy, Erman and Uhlin discuss potential roles of TNAs in for-
mal and informal tracks linking constituencies to political authority.
Moreover, they revisit the debate on the all-affected principle, which
is an implicit or explicit point of departure for many arguments in
this volume, as well as in much other scholarship in this field. Given
the prominence of TNCs in global governance, they also discuss how
the market economy may relate to global democracy. The chapter con-
cludes with a shift of focus from democratic legitimacy to other sources
of legitimacy in the context of TNA participation in global governance.
References
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tional Relations (Aldershot: Ashgate).
Beetham, D. (1998) ‘Legitimacy,’ in E. Craig (ed.) Routledge Encyclopedia of
Philosophy (London: Routledge).
Bexell, M. and U. Mörth (eds) (2010) Democracy and Public-Private Partnerships in

Global Governance (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan).
Bexell, M., J. Tallberg and A. Uhlin (2010) ‘Democracy in global governance: The
promises and pitfalls of transnational actors,’ Global Governance, 16: 81–101.
Brown, L.D. (2008) Creating Credibility: Legitimacy and Accountability for
Transnational Civil Society (Sterling, VA: Kumarian Press).
Delbrück, J. (2003) ‘Exercising public authority beyond the state,’ Indiana Journal
of Global Legal Studies, 10: 29–43.
Dingwerth, K. (2007) The New Transnationalism: Transnational Governance and
Democratic Legitimacy (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan).
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Pluralism, and Public Ethics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press).
Keohane, R.O. and J.S. Nye (1974) ‘Transgovernmental relations and interna-
tional organizations,’ World Politics, 27: 39–62.
Macdonald, T. (2008) Global Stakeholder Democracy: Power and Representation
Beyond Liberal States (Oxford: Oxford University Press).
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and B.A. Simmons (eds) Handbook of International Relations (London: Sage).
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and Global Governance: A Cure for the Democratic Deficit? (Basingstoke: Palgrave
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Protest (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan).
2
Democratic Legitimacy of
Transnational Actors: Mapping Out
the Conceptual Terrain
Anders Uhlin
Introduction
Global governance is not the preserve of states and state-controlled

international organizations only. A number of non-state actors – like
transnational corporations (TNCs), a broad variety of transnational civil
society actors, philanthropic foundations and diaspora groups – are
increasingly recognized as important players on the global scene. More-
over, the participation of such transnational actors (TNAs) in global
governance is increasingly put forward as a solution to democratic
deficits at the global level. However, the democratic credentials of these
actors are also challenged. The democratic legitimacy of transnational
NGOs, in particular, has been questioned, though much of the criticism
applies to other types of actors as well. Debates on the democratic legit-
imacy of TNAs often suffer from a lack of conceptual clarity, both as
to the type of actors referred to and the actual meaning of democratic
legitimacy. This chapter aims at contributing to clearing the analytical
ground in this field through a systematic discussion of dimensions dis-
tinguishing different types of TNAs as well as different dimensions of
democratic legitimacy applicable to these actors.
The first part of the chapter outlines some dimensions along which we
can distinguish between different categories of TNAs. The second part
takes stock of the literature on democratic credentials of TNAs and sug-
gests a broad framework for analyzing their democratic legitimacy that
goes beyond the rather technical discussion of specific accountability
mechanisms. This conceptual framework draws on a constructivist per-
spective and uses input, ‘throughput,’ and output legitimacy as a way to
organize democratic values like representation, inclusion, transparency,
16
Anders Uhlin 17
accountability, participation, and deliberation. The aim is not to estab-

lish fixed definitions of these terms and develop a detailed framework
to be strictly applied in the case studies included in the volume. Rather,
the aim is to introduce some concepts and general perspectives, which
can serve as a point of departure for empirical research as well as further
theoretical elaboration.
Transnational actors
Examining the democratic credentials of TNAs, we need to specify what

actors we have in mind. This is important because we might have differ-
ent democratic requirements for different types of actors. (For further
analysis, see the concluding chapter of this volume.) A TNA can be
defined as a non-state actor that acts across state borders. Hence, the
state system is the defining context for TNAs. We cannot conceive of
TNAs without taking states into account. However, the fact that TNAs
are shaped in relation to states and the inter-state system does not mean
that they can be reduced to instruments of state interests. In this section
I outline some dimensions along which we can distinguish between
different categories of TNAs.
First, principal ideas and motivation can be a distinguishing charac-
teristic of TNAs. A conventional distinction is between instrumental
values, knowledge, and normative values (cf. Risse, 2002). This way
of reasoning is similar to the common distinction between for profit
(business) and not for profit (civil society). TNCs, whether they are
involved in extracting natural resources, producing material goods or
providing immaterial services, are driven by the instrumental value
to increase profit. Epistemic communities, by contrast, share common
knowledge. An epistemic community can be defined as ‘a network of
professionals with recognized expertise and competence in a particular
domain and an authoritative claim to policy-relevant knowledge within
that domain or issue-area’ (Haas, 1992: 3). Transnational civil society
actors are mainly motivated by normative values and ideas. Such norms
and values might be based on religious beliefs as well as ideological
convictions. They might challenge the established global order, as in
the case of radical transnational social movements, but also include
non-confrontational, moderate norms and values which are part of
dominant global discourses. Norms and values motivating transnational
civil society activities may be progressive and pro-democratic, but they
might just as well be reactionary and authoritarian. What distinguishes
18 Democratic Legitimacy of Transnational Actors
transnational civil society actors from other types of TNAs is the signif-
icance of any type of values and ideas as a driving force behind their
activities – not any particular form of ‘civil’ ideas. Hence, I do not con-
sider the common distinction between ‘civil’ and ‘uncivil’ society to be
fruitful.
Second, and closely related to the previous dimension, we can iden-
tify different transnational public spheres in which different types of TNAs
operate. TNCs operate in a global market economy. Transnational polit-
ical parties and party alliances act in a transnational political society,
characterized by the pursuit of governmental power or other aspects
of formal politics. NGOs, social movements, and activist networks are
the key actors of a transnational civil society, which is the arena for
informal politics beyond state borders. Some TNAs may operate in
more than one sphere. Philanthropic foundations, for instance, rely
on economic resources accumulated in the global market economy, but
their main concern is to fund (and thereby influence) activities on the
(transnational) civil society arena.
Third, we can distinguish between different types of TNAs based
on their internal structure ranging from diffuse networks to formal
institutions (Risse, 2002). TNCs, transnational political parties, and phil-
anthropic foundations are actors with a formal hierarchical structure, as
are many NGOs. Transnational social movements and activist networks,
by contrast, are characterized by their lack of formalized organizational
structure. Hence, the category of transnational civil society actors is very
diverse in this respect, including diffuse activist networks as well as for-
mal NGOs. At the diffuse end of this continuum we also find diaspora
groups. Brubaker (2005: 5–6) outlines three core elements of what is
commonly seen as constituting a diaspora: (1) dispersion in space (usu-
ally across state borders); (2) an orientation to a real or imagined
‘homeland’ as a source of value, identity, and loyalty; and (3) bound-
ary maintenance vis-à-vis the host society. This indicates that diaspora
groups constitute a form of TNA, but unless they have organized in for-
mal organizations or interest groups, which some of them have, they
tend to lack any formal structure to the extent that their agency might
be in question.
The distinction between diffuse networks and formal institutional
structures is related to, but not necessarily the same as, the distinction
between horizontal and hierarchical relations within associations. It is
often claimed that networks are more horizontal, whereas formal orga-
nizations tend to be more hierarchical. A network, however, can also be
fairly hierarchical, with pronounced center–periphery relations.
Anders Uhlin 19
Fourth, the degree of autonomy of an actor could be considered an

important aspect when identifying different types of TNAs. However, I
argue that the degree of autonomy should be treated as an open empir-
ical question in each specific case, rather than a defining characteristic
of a certain type of TNA. We should distinguish between dimensions
defining the type of TNA and dimensions accounting for variations not
only across, but also within, types of TNAs; and I believe that autonomy
is best viewed as belonging to the latter dimension. While many TNCs
have considerable clout as autonomous actors, some TNCs are probably
so closely associated with their home state that it is questionable to what
extent they can be considered autonomous actors. Transnational (as well
as domestic) NGOs are often heavily dependent on funding from states,
international organizations, or philanthropic foundations. While this
does not necessarily mean that they cannot be seen as autonomous
actors, their degree of autonomy is more limited, compared to those civil
society groups which are self-financed. There is also the phenomenon of
quasi-NGOs, organizations taking the form of an NGO, but established
and controlled by states or TNCs. Such organizations are instruments of
other actors and have no agency on their own. Except for such obvious
cases of state or business controlled quasi-NGOs, it is reasonable to treat
transnational civil society associations as actors, although with vary-
ing degrees of autonomy. As concluded by Risse (2002: 262), ‘[m]ost of
the contemporary work in international affairs no longer disputes that
TNAs influence decisions and outcomes.’ Not even DeMars (2005), who
in an innovative contribution maintains that the main feature of NGOs
is their participation in transnational networks, in which they are used
by other actors as ‘wild cards’ in world politics, claims that NGOs lack
autonomy. On the contrary, he argues that whereas ‘NGOs are consti-
tuted by their partners’ (DeMars, 2005: 44), and carry the latent agendas
of these partners, they enjoy operational autonomy and can play off
partners against each other (DeMars, 2005: 49).
Fifth, the autonomy of TNAs is related to their power. Obviously, the
power and influence of TNAs vary greatly, ranging from the largest
TNCs, generally considered to have much more clout than most states
in world politics, to seemingly powerless, poorly funded southern-based
transnational NGOs. The power of TNAs can be analyzed in terms of
dominance and structural power relations as well as discursive and
communicative power (Piper and Uhlin, 2004: 8–12). Such analyses
are necessary in order to establish what demands for democratic legiti-
macy are appropriate (cf. Macdonald, 2008). The more powerful a TNA
is, the stronger the need for democratic legitimacy. Actors which do
not wield any power are not subject to demands that they should be
democratic. (For further analysis, see the concluding chapter of this vol-
ume.) The power of an actor, however, does not help us distinguish
between different types of TNAs. Powerful and less powerful actors can
be found within all categories. TNCs are commonly perceived as pow-
erful actors in world politics. They have instrumental, structural, and
discursive power. Through their economic resources and mobility they
have power over states. They may influence global governance through
lobbying and agenda-setting, but also through direct participation in
global rule-making in public–private partnerships and other global gov-
ernance processes. TNCs also have discursive power when they frame
political problems in public debates (Fuchs, 2005). Transnational philan-
thropic foundations – especially the well-known American foundations
like Ford, Soros, and Gates – have similar power resources as TNCs and
often explicitly try to influence politics through the funding of civil
society activities around the world. Transnational civil society actors
can also be powerful actors, although (with the exception of some large
well-funded transnational NGOs) they lack the economic resources of
TNCs and foundations. Instead, they typically exercise discursive power,
and increasingly such actors are given formal access to arenas for global
policy-making.
Sixth, and closely related to the previous dimension, TNAs vary in
their degree of politicization. This is an important aspect when discussing
democratic requirements for TNAs. Highly politicized TNAs, which take
part in decision- or rule-making for a larger community, are subject to
stricter demands of democracy than are non-political TNAs. (For further
analysis, see the concluding chapter of this volume.) TNCs operate in
the global market economy, but due to their often fundamental impact
on political processes and more generally on peoples’ lives, they should
be considered political actors, although they differ from political par-
ties and civil society groups. The category of transnational civil society
actors refers to highly politicized as well as non-political actors. The
former include transnational social movements and activist networks
as well as transnational advocacy NGOs and labor unions, which try
to lobby political decision-makers and influence global policy-making
within different issue-areas. Service-delivering NGOs, by contrast, are
less directed toward influencing global policy and more inclined to
provide specific welfare and relief services to groups of disadvantaged
people around the world.
Finally, another potential dimension that I think is best viewed as
accounting for variation within as well as across types of TNAs is the
Anders Uhlin 21
spatial extension of the actor. Some TNAs are genuinely global actors,
whereas other TNAs are confined to a specific region. Having clarified
the concept of TNA and considered dimensions for distinguishing dif-
ferent categories of TNAs, we now turn to the concept of democratic
legitimacy.
Democratic legitimacy
The literature on the democratic credentials of TNAs is mainly con-

cerned with transnational civil society actors, particularly NGOs. Less
attention has been devoted to the democratic credentials of other TNAs
like TNCs, foundations, and diaspora groups. Hence, most examples
given in the following overview refer to a civil society context. How-
ever, I maintain that the analysis is relevant for other types of TNAs
as well. Legitimacy is the broadest and least well-defined concept in
this literature (see, e.g., Van Rooy, 2004). Writing about legitimacy in
international relations, Clark (2007: 2) suggests that the ‘core princi-
ples of legitimacy express rudimentary social agreement about who is
entitled to participate in international relations, and also about appro-
priate forms in their conduct.’ Hence, ‘the actors within international
society are engaged in endless strategies of legitimation, in order to
present certain activities or actions as legitimate’ (Clark, 2007: 2). Here
I focus on the legitimacy of a certain type of actor in international
society – TNAs – and a certain form of legitimacy – democratic legiti-
macy. I treat democratic legitimacy as an overarching concept covering
more specific aspects of democratic credentials like representation, par-
ticipation, and accountability. However, much of the literature on the
legitimacy of TNAs does not differentiate between democratic legitimacy
and more general bases of legitimacy. The legitimacy of transnational
NGOs, for instance, is often associated with their expertise and knowl-
edge in specific issue-areas (Van Rooy, 2004: 81; Collingwood, 2006:
448) and their compliance with regulations (Brown, 2008: 35). While
these are important qualities of the actors, they do not necessarily make
them democratic. Neither does financial and political independence
(Van Rooy, 2004: 116–9; Collingwood, 2006: 447), which is related
to their qualities as actors (having agency) rather than to democratic
qualities. Furthermore, the legitimacy of TNAs is sometimes seen in
comparison to other types of actors. NGO legitimacy can be derived
from the failing legitimacy of states (Collingwood, 2006: 453). It has
been argued that representatives of NGOs have less to gain from abus-
ing their positions compared to business and state actors; and hence
they typically enjoy more public trust (Brown, 2008: 2). While these
aspects might be sources of legitimacy, they are not necessarily related
to democracy.
Sources of legitimacy, frequently mentioned in the literature, that
are of immediate democratic relevance include the representation of
constituencies and the representation of democratic values and norms
(cf. Van Rooy, 2004: Ch. 3; Collingwood, 2006: 447–8; Brown, 2008:
35). Membership-based NGOs represent their constituencies. Many
transnational NGOs gain democratic legitimacy through their grassroots
links and by giving voice to and empowering marginalized groups. Rep-
resentation of values and norms, such as notions of universal human
dignity and global justice, may give transnational civil society actors a
moral authority which can be seen as a form of democratic legitimacy.
These forms of democratic legitimacy, as we will discuss in this vol-
ume, might be compromised by insufficient and biased participation,
a lack of transparency, representation, and accountability, and poor or
no deliberation, and so on.
In order to clear the analytical ground and map the conceptual terrain
in this field, I should clarify my position on a number of method-
ological issues. I depart from a social constructivist perspective. Many
writers in this field, not least concerning different forms of account-
ability appropriate for TNAs, attempt to offer technical solutions to
be applied universally. However, I argue that there are no objective
technical solutions to legitimacy problems that can be designed by
experts independent of the context. By contrast, legitimacy should be
viewed as a social construction. Creating legitimacy involves highly con-
tested processes and struggles between actors with different interests
and world-views (cf. Lister, 2003). We need to examine how different
demands for, and claims to, democratic legitimacy are socially con-
structed, and what the underlying ideals and interests of legitimacy
claims and mechanisms are.
Moreover, as argued above, we should distinguish democratic legiti-
macy from legitimacy in general. What we are interested in here are
forms of legitimacy that make sense in relation to democratic values
rooted in democratic theory. Rather than privileging one model of
democracy, we should consider different normative models of democ-
racy, including representative, participatory and deliberative variants.
When examining the democratic credentials of TNAs, we should assess
not only formal and informal decision-making processes, but also
processes of deliberation and broader political participation. This is
Anders Uhlin 23
important in order not to privilege one particular model of democracy.

Furthermore, focusing on different models of democracy and differ-
ent democratic values, we can analyze potential trade-offs between
democratic values proposed from different theoretical perspectives.
For instance, broadened participation might have a negative effect
on accountability, and participation and deliberation do not neces-
sarily go well together. (This is discussed further in the concluding
chapter.)
In order to organize the various concepts related to democratic legit-
imacy, I find it useful to distinguish between input legitimacy (the
relationship between the collective actor and its constituencies or
people affected by its activities), throughput legitimacy (the actual pro-
cedures for decision-making within the collective actor), and output
legitimacy (the consequences of the actor’s decisions and other activ-
ities) (cf. Zürn, 1998: 236; Scharpf, 1999; Held and Koenig-Archibugi,
2005: 2; Dingwerth, 2007: 14–15). Focusing on input legitimacy we
ask questions like: Do power-wielders/decision-makers represent their
constituencies? Are they democratically elected? Do they give voice
to marginalized people? Do they represent democratic ideas? Who are
included/excluded? Throughput legitimacy raises questions such as: Are
decision-making processes and other activities open and transparent?
Are power-wielders/decision-makers accountable to relevant stakehold-
ers? Are there opportunities for direct participation? Are the procedures
characterized by authentic deliberation? Output legitimacy, finally,
directs our attention to questions like: What are the democratic con-
sequences of the actor’s activities? Does it have pro- or anti-democratic
effects on global governance or no effect at all?
Differentiating between input, throughput, and output legitimacy,
we can identify key democratic values highlighted in most research on
democracy beyond the nation-state. The input, throughput, and output
distinction is helpful in disentangling the concept of democratic legiti-
macy and identifying different aspects of democracy. However, applying
these analytical distinctions does not mean that it is sufficient to ana-
lyze one democratic value separated from all the others. Obviously, the
different democratic values organized under the input, throughput, and
output headings are interrelated, and we need to analyze relationships
between them – not only separate components of democratic legitimacy.
The following mapping of the conceptual terrain concerning democratic
legitimacy of TNAs is structured according to the scheme presented in
Table 2.1.
Table 2.1 Democratic legitimacy of transnational actors: Key democratic values
Input legitimacy Throughput legitimacy Output legitimacy
Representation Transparency Democratic consequences

Inclusion Accountability
Participation
Deliberation
Input legitimacy
Representation
Representation is a key value in liberal democratic theory. In principle
it refers to the general relationship between a collective actor and the
people on whose behalf it claims to speak. In representative democra-
cies at the nation-state level elections constitute the central mechanism
through which governments acquire representative legitimacy. Clearly
applicable to democracy within nation-states and (arguably) to visions
of global democracy as well, the relevance of the ideal of representation
is less obvious when it comes to non-state actors.
In the debate on democratic credentials of transnational civil society
actors, problems of representation have often been highlighted. Crit-
ics of NGOs point out that their membership might be very limited,
perhaps excluding most of the people to whom the NGO claims to
give voice. The lack of representiveness within transnational activist
networks is often described as a division between the ‘global north’
and the ‘global south.’ Structural inequalities based on class, gender,
nationality, ethnicity, religion, and so on may be reproduced within
transnational civil society. As noted by Scholte (2008: 15) (observing
CSOs targeting the IMF), this civil society ‘generally mirrors rather than
counters social hierarchies in global politics at large.’ Moreover, unlike
governments in democratic states, the leadership of many civil society
groups is not elected by any constituency, although some membership-
based organizations may have regular elections of leadership positions.
However, the relevance of electoral representation for civil society actors
can be questioned. Peruzzotti (2006: 48–9; cf. Chapter 8, this volume)
argues that civil society as a social sphere is fundamentally different
from political society. The representative politics characterizing political
society (in representative democracies) is not applicable to civil society.
NGOs and other civil society actors organize to demand accountability
from political society, but they should not themselves represent any
Anders Uhlin 25
constituency, and hence should not be bounded by the formal rules and
accountability mechanisms found in political society.
Hence, there is a need to go beyond the conventional literature and
rethink the concept of representation. Peruzzotti (2006: 52–3) argues
that the question ‘Who do you represent?’ is not appropriate for civil
society organizations. Instead we should ask ‘What do you represent?’
Similarly, Keck (2004: 45) argues that civil society activists in global gov-
ernance institutions represent ‘positions rather than populations, ideas
rather than constituencies.’ This is what she calls ‘discursive represen-
tation’ (cf. Dryzek and Niemeyer, 2008). Charnovitz (2006: 36) agrees,
claiming that the usefulness of NGO ideas is more important than
how well those ideas represent the NGO’s membership or constituency.
Hence, many scholars prefer other concepts than representation when
exploring the democratic qualities of transnational NGOs. Carlarne and
Carlarne (2006) refer to ‘credibility building’ instead of representation.
Jordan and van Tuijl (2000) claim that ‘political responsibility’ is a better
concept than representation and accountability in this context.
One of the most theoretically sophisticated attempts to deal with
the problem of NGO (and other TNA) representation is the theory of
‘global stakeholder democracy’ elaborated by Macdonald (2008). She
argues that elections are not an appropriate method for conferring
representative legitimacy to non-state actors, since the intensity of inter-
ests typically vary between individuals. Fortunately, there are several
non-electoral mechanisms of authorization and accountability that are
more suitable, including codes of conduct, stakeholder assemblies, sur-
veys, and so on. However, Macdonald (2008: 193) admits that these
actual practices of NGO authorization and accountability are not fully
democratic.
To conclude this section, we should consider innovative as well as
conventional aspects of representation when assessing the input legiti-
macy of TNAs. The following questions should be asked when analyzing
democratic representation: How representative is the actor of its con-
stituency? What is the quality of electoral representation? What is the
quality of non-electoral mechanisms of authorization by stakeholders?
To what extent does the actor represent a relevant discourse?
Inclusion
Another concept that is frequently referred to in discussions of input
legitimacy is inclusion. Whereas representative democrats tend to
stress formal mechanisms for representation (election of leadership in
particular), participatory democrats are more concerned with the actual

inclusion of affected people. Hence, they do not consider representation
a problem but focus on direct citizen participation. Compared to those
favoring representative democracy, participatory democrats tend to be
more concerned about avoiding exclusion and marginalization based
on gender, ethnicity, class, and so on. Therefore, a focus on power struc-
tures excluding certain groups of people from real political participation
is required.
We can distinguish between the scope and quality of participation
(Dingwerth, 2007: 28). The quality of participation is a throughput
related aspect to be discussed below. The scope of participation – what
I label inclusion – refers to the fundamental question of identifying the
proper constituency or demos concerning a specific issue. Who should
have the right to participate in decision-making, and who do actually
participate? Ideally, all those significantly affected by a decision should
participate directly in decision-making. It should, however, be noted
that the ‘all-affected principle’ suffers from both practical and normative
problems (Agné, 2006; Näsström, 2010; further discussed in Chapter 10).
If the direct participation of all significantly affected stakeholders is not
possible, a requirement from the perspective of participatory democracy
is that the voices of marginalized affected people are included.
The criterion of inclusiveness is important for deliberative democ-
racy, too. Whereas some deliberative democrats seem to be satisfied
with genuine deliberation taking place among representative political
elites, others stress the importance of including all affected people in
authentic deliberation. For some, the requirement of inclusion refers
to arguments rather than individuals (Nanz and Steffek, 2005: 377). In
sum, when analyzing inclusion we should ask the following questions:
To what extent are those significantly affected included in decision-
making, deliberation, and other activities? To what extent does the actor
give voice to marginalized people?
Throughput legitimacy
Transparency
The degree of transparency, in this context, could be defined as ‘the
extent to which individuals who may be significantly affected by a
decision are able to learn about the decision-making process, including
its existence, subject matter, structure and current status’ (Dingwerth,
2007: 30). Transparency can be measured along three dimensions
Anders Uhlin 27
(cf. Nelson, 2001: 1838); fullness (i.e., no or few and specified exceptions
to public disclosure), accessibility (ideally at many sites, in different lan-
guages and free of charge), and timeliness (i.e., information should be
made available well before a decision is taken in order for stakehold-
ers to have a chance to influence the decision). This kind of openness
could be seen as a basic precondition for other aspects of democracy.
It is a common demand on non-democratic organizations to increase
their transparency as a first step toward democratization. Transparency
is important for the realization of other democratic values, not least
accountability. Hence, an important question for empirical research on
TNAs is to what extent decision-making processes and other activities
are open and transparent.
Accountability
Accountability is one of the most frequently used concepts in the lit-
erature on the democratic credentials of TNAs. We can distinguish
between prospective (forward-looking) and retrospective (backward-
looking) forms of responsibility. The latter is called accountability
(Bexell, 2005: 68). It means that ‘some actors have the right to hold
other actors to a set of standards, to judge whether they have fulfilled
their responsibilities in light of these standards, and to impose sanctions
if they determine that these responsibilities have not been met’ (Grant
and Keohane, 2005: 29). Thus, the components of accountability are
standards, information, and sanctions. Effective accountability requires
mechanisms for information and communication between decision-
makers and stakeholders and mechanisms for imposing penalties (Held
and Koenig-Archibugi, 2005: 3). Accountability should be distinguished
from other constraints on abuses of power like unilateral use of force
and ‘checks and balances’ (Grant and Keohane, 2005: 30).
A common concept in the field of public administration (cf. Mulgan,
2000), accountability has more recently been applied to NGOs (cf.
Unerman and O’Dwyer, 2006), and in recent years the accountabil-
ity of TNAs has been a hotly debated issue, too. Demands for greater
accountability, not least of transnational NGOs, have frequently been
voiced. This has made some scholars talk about an ‘accountability syn-
drome’ facing TNAs (Anheier and Hawkes, 2008: 125). Transnational
accountability is much more complex than domestic accountability,
and it is not obvious that accountability mechanisms can be trans-
ferred from domestic to transnational politics. Some scholars even argue
that in the context of globalization, accountability is the problem,
not the solution (Anheier and Hawkes, 2008: 130–1). The complex-
ity and conceptual confusion may cause problems, because different
conceptions of accountability can lead to conflicting expectations and
undermine organizational effectiveness – what Koppell (2005) labels
‘multiple accountabilities disorder.’
Accountability can be constructed in many different ways. Grant and
Keohane (2005) distinguish between participation and delegation mod-
els of accountability. The former refers to external accountability to
those affected by the activities of the actor exercising power, whereas
the latter deals with internal accountability to the principals who have
delegated authority to the power-wielders. On a general level Grant and
Keohane (2005) outline seven mechanisms of accountability in world
politics: Hierarchical, supervisory, fiscal, legal, market, peer, and pub-
lic reputational. They argue that these accountability mechanisms are
applicable to various degrees to all kinds of actors in global gover-
nance, including multilateral organizations, NGOs, transgovernmental
networks, firms, and states (Grant and Keohane, 2005: 40). The liter-
ature on (transnational) NGOs is full of more specific accountability
mechanisms and principles, including certification, rating, codes of con-
duct, monitoring and evaluation, disclosure of statements and reports
(i.e., transparency), and social auditing (including stakeholder dialogue)
(cf. Ebrahim, 2003; Lee, 2004: 8–9).
The literature on accountability of TNAs often lacks elaborate theo-
rizing referring to established theoretical perspectives within IR. Never-
theless there are several theoretical perspectives which are potentially
applicable to transnational accountability problems. Rational choice
theory focuses on principal–agent relations. Global governance theory
emphasizes governance networks and regimes. Constructivists are con-
cerned with accountability discourses. From a critical political economy
perspective, attention is directed toward processes of capital accumula-
tion and legitimation (Mason, 2008). At least implicitly, much literature
in this field, especially on NGO and business accountability, has had
a rationalist perspective focusing on technocratic solutions to per-
ceived accountability problems. More recent research (e.g., Ebrahim
and Weisband, 2007) has taken a more interpretive and hermeneutic
approach, viewing accountability as a socially constructed means of con-
trol. This is also the approach taken in this chapter. From a constructivist
perspective we can examine accountability discourses and more specif-
ically how they reproduce existing power structures or how they may
serve to alter power relations, empowering previously marginalized peo-
ple. As argued by Ebrahim and Weisband (2007), socially constructed
Anders Uhlin 29
accountability mechanisms can be used by the weak as well as by the

powerful.
Central to the debate on accountability is the concept of stakeholders.
Identifying the stakeholders of a TNA is a way of answering the question:
To whom should the actor be accountable? We can distinguish between
internal and external stakeholders (Kovach, 2006: 201). Referring to
transnational NGOs, three main types of stakeholders can be identified:
Donors, members, and the subjects of an organization’s intervention
(Peruzzotti, 2006: 53). However, conceptualizing transnational NGO
accountability in terms of a principal–agent relation is not appropriate,
because transnational NGOs typically have a diverse set of stakehold-
ers, and it is not clear which stakeholder should be prioritized as the
principal (Brown and Moore, 2001: 572). It should also be pointed
out that accountability to a broad and diffuse set of stakeholders risks
undermining accountability, since being accountable to all means being
accountable to no one (Bexell, 2005: 137).
A basic tension in the construction of accountability mechanisms for
TNAs is between, on the one hand, legal regulatory frameworks and, on
the other hand, self-regulation. Many governments try to control and
manipulate civil society and, from a democratic perspective, one should
be cautious about excessive state control and regulation of civil soci-
ety groups. Civil society actors themselves tend to prefer self-regulation
(e.g., codes of ethics) to other methods of enhancing their accountabil-
ity. Self-defined standards of legitimacy and accountability do not have
to apply only to individual organizations. There are also examples of
initiatives to enhance legitimacy and accountability that apply to NGO
sectors or campaigns as well as cross-sector partnerships (Brown, 2008).
However, there are few examples of effective self-regulatory mechanisms
(Heinrich et al., 2008: 334–5).
When examining conventional accountability discourses from a
democracy perspective, we find that traditional models of accountability
tend to privilege powerful stakeholders and fail to address participatory
aspects of accountability (cf. Kovach, 2006: 197). Accountability is often
seen as technocratic supervision and control. Hence, there is a need
to democratize accountability beyond the nation-state. As a starting
point we should realize that NGO (and other TNA) accountability is
a political issue. This is not evident in much of the technical dis-
cussions on specific accountability mechanisms (Jordan and van Tuijl,
2006: 4–5). Many scholars writing on accountability in a transnational
context deliberately exclude democratic accountability (e.g., Ebrahim,
2003: 815). Grant and Keohane’s influential work, for instance, deals
with accountability in world politics – not democratic accountability.

Their view of democracy beyond the nation-state is that there is no
global demos and therefore there can be no global democracy (Grant and
Keohane, 2005: 34). Hence, we must be satisfied with non-democratic
accountability mechanisms that, at least, can limit the abuse of power in
global governance. When they claim that multilateral organizations are
the most accountable actors in global governance (Grant and Keohane,
2005: 37), we should remember that they do not refer to democratic
accountability.
To conclude, I suggest that when examining the democratic account-
ability of TNAs, we should ask the following questions: (1) According to
what principles is the actor accountable? (This refers to standards, codes
of conduct, certification, rating, and so on.) (2) To which stakeholders
is the actor accountable? (3) Does accountability involve control and
sanctions or does it imply voluntary responsiveness?
Participation
Whereas I take inclusion to refer to the scope of participation, i.e., the
general relationship between an organization and its constituencies or
people significantly affected by its activities, I use the concept participa-
tion in relation to specific decision-making procedures or other activities
within the organization, i.e., throughput legitimacy. Hence, I am here
concerned with the quality of participation (cf. Dingwerth, 2007: 28).
How do people participate in decision-making? Only by passively receiv-
ing information, or through the election of representatives, or in a more
active and direct way favored by participatory democrats? Political par-
ticipation does not have to be limited to formal decision-making or
processes of deliberation. Within many social movements, for instance,
participation can include various forms of protest activities. A num-
ber of non-violent but still confrontational social movement activities
have been questioned from a democratic perspective. Those adhering to
a representative model of democracy typically consider civil disobedi-
ence undemocratic (unless it is targeting an authoritarian regime). But
such methods can also be seen as a practice of direct or participatory
democracy.
Generally speaking, forms of direct participation would lead to more
democratic legitimacy than indirect participation, but the issue is more
complex than that. Appropriate forms of participation must be con-
textually determined. In sum, when examining the throughput legit-
imacy of an actor, we should ask: What are the forms and quality of
participation?
Anders Uhlin 31
Deliberation
Deliberation, according to Chambers (2003: 309) ‘is debate and discus-
sion aimed at producing reasonable, well-informed opinions in which
participants are willing to revise preferences in light of discussion, new
information, and claims made by fellow participants.’ Hence, authen-
tic deliberation must be non-coercive and induce reflection (cf. Dryzek,
2000: 2). Critical reflection should be distinguished from justification of
a position. Powerful participants in a deliberative process may acknowl-
edge criticism put forward by less powerful participants by giving
reasons for the positions taken, but this might just be a rationaliza-
tion of a fixed position (Nanz and Steffek, 2005: 376). Critical reflection
requires a genuine willingness to adjust one’s position in response to
rational arguments.
Trade-offs between deliberation and other democratic values have
been noted. Dingwerth (2007: 202–3) argues that there are trade-offs
between inclusion and deliberation, transparency and deliberation, and
accountability and deliberation. Mutz (2006) devotes a whole book to
the argument that participation and deliberation are difficult to com-
bine. The possible tension between participation and deliberation is
a highly relevant question in relation to transnational civil society.
Whereas some global social movements do have deliberative qualities
(cf. della Porta, 2005), the coercive and confrontational methods of
the more radical parts of transnational civil society are seen as prob-
lematic from the perspective of deliberative democratic theory. The
tools of arguing and communicative action are central to the delib-
erative democratic ideal. However, passions and emotions – not only
reason – are central for the mobilization of social movements. Further-
more, the activities of social movements are sometimes confrontational
and coercive and, hence, do not fit well within a deliberative demo-
cratic framework. From a social movement (and activist) perspective,
the ideal of deliberative democracy can be criticized on the ground
that deliberation does not work in societies characterized by structural
inequalities. Direct activism is often necessary to achieve social change
(Young, 2001). While paying attention to such potential problems with
deliberation, the main question to ask from this perspective is: To what
extent is deliberation characterized by critical reflection?
Output legitimacy
When examining democratic credentials of TNAs with the overarching

aim to analyze their possible contribution to the democratization of
global governance, the output legitimacy of the actors must be of central
concern. By output legitimacy I do not refer to effectiveness. Increased

effectiveness might be a source of strengthened legitimacy, but it does
not increase the democratic legitimacy of the actor. The participation of
TNAs in global policy-making may serve two different purposes: Increas-
ing the ‘epistemic quality’ of the decisions taken (i.e., a non-democratic
aspect related to effectiveness) or strengthening democratic accountabil-
ity. These two functions of TNAs in global governance are not always
easily combined (Steffek and Ferretti, 2009). There might be a trade-off
between democratic and non-democratic aspects of output legitimacy.
The focus here is on democratic output legitimacy, i.e., democratic con-
sequences of the activities of TNAs. Transnational civil society actors are
generally considered the most promising type of TNA when it comes
to potential to have a democratizing impact on global governance
(cf. Scholte, 2005; Smith, 2008). Such actors may serve as a ‘transmis-
sion belt’ between citizens and global policy-makers (Steffek et al., 2008).
Transnational social movements and NGOs may give voice to previously
marginalized people in world politics. The activities of transnational
civil society actors targeting powerful global actors may increase the
accountability of these actors. Transnational civil society may also play a
constitutive role in the construction and diffusion of democratic norms.
However, it is important to stress that transnational civil society actors
do not necessarily have such output-related democratic legitimacy. It
is an empirical question to what extent the activities of a specific TNA
have pro- or anti-democratic consequences.
A TNA may be weak on the input and throughput aspects of demo-
cratic legitimacy, but still contribute to the strengthening of democracy
in global governance, hence having some output-related democratic
legitimacy. Many civil society groups, for instance, may through their
advocacy and ‘watchdog’ activities contribute to increased transparency
and accountability of international organizations although these groups
themselves are weak on internal democracy. It is also reasonable to
argue that it is not of much importance that a TNA has strong input
and throughput democratic credentials, if its activities do not have any
positive democratic effect on global governance at large. We can even
conceive of actors with relatively strong democratic input and through-
put legitimacy having a negative effect on global democracy. Hence, the
dimension of output legitimacy should not be left out of the picture
when analyzing democratic qualities of TNAs. We should ask the ques-
tions: What are the democratic consequences of the actor’s activities?
Does the actor contribute to the democratization of global governance
and, if so, how?
Anders Uhlin 33
Concluding remarks on democratic legitimacy
The analysis of democratic legitimacy can be summed up in a num-

ber of questions which can help us evaluate the democratic credentials
of TNAs (see Table 2.2). The questions identify different dimensions
of democratic legitimacy, but they are not intended to be operational
criteria for empirical research ‘measuring’ the democratic legitimacy of
different TNAs. The constructivist perspective challenges us to apply the
Table 2.2 Questions for evaluating democratic legitimacy of transnational actors
Input Legitimacy
Representation
How representative is the actor of its constituency?
What is the quality of electoral representation?
What is the quality of non-electoral mechanisms of authorization by
stakeholders?
To what extent does the actor represent a relevant discourse?
Inclusion
To what extent are those significantly affected included in decision-making,
deliberation, and other activities?
To what extent does the actor give voice to marginalized people?
Throughput Legitimacy
Transparency
To what extent are decision-making processes and other activities open and
transparent?
Accountability
According to what principles is the actor accountable?
To which stakeholders is the actor accountable?
Does accountability involve control and sanctions or voluntary responsiveness?
Participation
What are the forms and quality of participation?
Deliberation
To what extent is deliberation characterized by critical reflection?
Output Legitimacy
Consequences
What are the democratic consequences of the actor’s activities?
Does the actor contribute to the democratization of global governance, and if
so, how?
different aspects of democratic legitimacy in a context sensitive way.

Forms of democratic legitimacy differ not only across different types
of TNAs, but also between different social, cultural, and political set-
tings. An overarching question should be how the different sources of
democratic legitimacy are socially constructed. We should inquire into
the interests and values behind different demands for, and claims to,
democratic legitimacy and ask how specific mechanisms for representa-
tion, participation, accountability, and so on could be reconstructed in
a more democratic way.
Summing up and looking ahead
In an effort to bring some order to the conceptual muddle in the lit-

erature on democratic credentials of TNAs, I first tried to clarify the
meaning of the concept TNA through outlining some dimensions along
which to compare different types of TNAs. TNAs could be distinguished
based on their principal ideas and motivation, the transnational public
sphere in which they operate, their internal structure, their degree of
autonomy, power, and politicization, as well as their spatial extension.
I then turned to the issue of democratic legitimacy, arguing in favor
of a constructivist perspective. I suggested that the well-known distinc-
tion between input, throughput, and output legitimacy is a useful way
to organize different aspects of democratic legitimacy. Representation
is important, but for many TNAs non-electoral mechanisms and the
representation of discourses rather than constituencies seem more rele-
vant. Inclusion is more important from the perspectives of participatory
and deliberative democracy. Transparency is an essential factor within
all models of democracy, but transparency by itself does not mean
democracy. An organization can be very open and transparent, but still
elitist and exclusive when it comes to decision-making. Questions of
accountability should focus on what principles of accountability are
applied, which are the stakeholders, and to what extent accountabil-
ity mechanisms are voluntary or involve some sanctions. Instead of,
or in combination with, analyses of formal decision-making processes,
we could focus on other forms of political participation and processes
of deliberation. However, there seems to be trade-offs between deliber-
ation and many other democratic values, including participation. The
democratic consequences of the activities of TNAs must also be consid-
ered. TNAs with poor internal democratic credentials may still have a
democratizing impact on global governance and vice versa.
Anders Uhlin 35
The following chapters in this volume elaborate further on some of

the concepts introduced in this chapter and address some of the ques-
tions posed here. In the concluding chapter we return to a systematic
analysis of what forms of democratic legitimacy are appropriate for dif-
ferent types of TNAs, and what potential trade-offs there are between
different democratic values.
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Part II
Democratic Credentials of
Different Transnational Actors
3
Transnational Corporations in
Global Governance
Doris Fuchs, Agni Kalfagianni, and Julia Sattelberger
Introduction
The objective of this chapter is to explore the democratic legitimacy

of transnational corporations (TNCs) in global governance. In pursuit
of this objective, the chapter investigates political activities of TNCs
within transnational processes of private and public governance. It starts
from the recognition that, global governance is increasingly being cre-
ated not only by (inter)governmental actors but also by private actors.
Corporations, in particular, have become key players in the global gov-
ernance system. On the one hand, they have acquired and expanded a
‘new’ role as a political actor through the creation of private governance
institutions, such as private standards, or public–private or private–
private partnerships (PPPs). On the other hand, they have expanded
their ‘traditional’ political power in terms of influence exercised on pub-
lic governance output, due to their advantage over other actors in terms
of resources, such as exclusive information and financial and human
resources. As a result of the central role that TNCs play as political actors
in global governance structures and processes today, the question of the
democratic legitimacy of their political activities moves into the spot-
light. Democracy, after all, is one of the major political achievements of
mankind. With the shift of political decision-making to the global level
and to non-state actors, as captured in the global governance literature,
there is an urgent need to address the question of how to maintain basic
requirements of participation, transparency, and accountability.
This chapter explores the democratic legitimacy of TNCs as politi-
cal actors in two settings. First, it analyzes the legitimacy implications
of TNCs’ standard-setting activities in processes of private governance.
41
42 Democratic Legitimacy of Transnational Corporations
From a power theoretical perspective, these activities can be seen as

adding rule-setting power to the structural power of TNCs, which has
mainly taken the form of agenda-setting power in the past. Secondly, the
chapter analyzes the legitimacy implications of TNCs’ lobbying activi-
ties in processes of public governance. These activities are frequently
discussed as exercises of instrumental power in power theoretic analyses
of governance.
Interestingly, the implications of the exercise of political power by
TNCs in processes of public governance received substantial attention
in the literature in the context of globalization and the growth in size
and reach of corporations in the 1970s and 1980s. Since the late 1990s,
the focus – especially in international relations – tended to shift more
toward TNCs’ ‘new’ political activities in terms of private governance.
There, however, the recognition that these activities also meant an
exercise of power and had to be analyzed in terms of their legitimacy
implications came only belatedly. Our chapter aims to bring the old
discussion back in, and to combine the analysis of the democratic legit-
imacy of TNCs in processes of public and private governance. In both
settings, TNCs today exercise an unprecedented degree of power and,
therefore, both settings deserve scrutiny. Moreover, it is interesting to
explore to what extent we can identify notable differences between the
two settings.
Due to space constraints, this chapter analyzes the democratic legiti-
macy of TNCs with respect to processes of environmental governance.
As a first case, it explores TNCs’ political role in the context of pri-
vate retail food standards, specifically the GlobalGap and the Marine
Stewardship Council (MSC). In the second case, the chapter analyzes
TNCs’ political role in the context of the creation of the Proposal for
a Regulation of the European Parliament and of the Council setting
emission performance standards for new passenger cars as part of the
Community’s integrated approach to reduce CO2 emissions from light-
duty vehicles (COM, 2007: 856)1 of the European Union (EU). Such a
focus on global environmental governance means, of course, that we
cannot easily generalize from our analysis to other areas of governance.
At the same time, such a focus is valuable in its own right, as sustainable
development is one of the core challenges for societies around the globe,
and previous research has shown that the activities of TNCs in pri-
vate and public governance have highly ambivalent implications for
sustainability.
In assessing the democratic legitimacy of TNCs within global gover-
nance, the chapter uses the criteria of participation, transparency, and
Doris Fuchs, Agni Kalfagianni, and Julia Sattelberger 43
accountability, proposed by Porter and Ronit (2010). Each of these cri-

teria is specified further below. Of course, one will rarely find a case in
which all of them are completely fulfilled or not fulfilled at all. Likewise,
it is impossible to define a quantitative threshold for their fulfillment
across different private governance institutions. Accordingly, we use the
criteria and their further specifications to identify areas in which the
conditions are fulfilled or become problematic. Our evaluation of the
seriousness of the identified problems then guides our overall assess-
ment. The result of this assessment is that the current political activities
of TNCs raise serious concerns with respect to both processes of private
and public governance, if one applies the three criteria of participation,
transparency, and accountability.
The chapter explicitly does not apply the concepts of output and
throughput legitimacy in its analysis. As we argue below, output legit-
imacy is a faulty concept that cannot provide a basis for assessing the
democratic legitimacy of political activities of TNCs within global gover-
nance. Instead, we argue that the notions of participation, transparency,
and accountability, traditionally applied in processes of domestic gov-
ernance, necessarily have to form the basis for analyses of democratic
legitimacy in global governance as well. Only when these criteria are
fulfilled in some manner, can we justifiably refer to democratic ideas.2
The next section presents a conceptual overview on the new role of
TNCs as political actors in global governance. Then, section three turns
to the question of democratic legitimacy and introduces the concepts of
participation, transparency, and accountability as criteria for assessing
the democratic legitimacy of actors in public and private governance.
The section also scrutinizes and dismisses alternative criteria, in particu-
lar output legitimacy. Section four pursues the empirical analysis of the
democratic legitimacy of global private and public governance on the
basis of the criteria developed in section three. Finally, section five con-
cludes by summarizing our findings and delineating their implications
for research and policy.
The new role of TNCs as political actors
In the context of globalization and global governance, the political

role of TNCs has gained new momentum and subsequently regained
scientific interest. Globalization has fostered a growing number of
corporations with increasing resources: Studies highlight that the num-
ber of TNCs and the level of corporate dominated FDI inflows have
increased more than tenfold from the 1970s until today (UNCTAD,
2008). Due to their enlarged economic power, TNCs are frequently seen
as important global actors with a potential of significant political influ-
ence. However, these economic indicators can only serve as extremely
rough and indirect measures of businesses’ political role in global gov-
ernance, since a narrow focus on their economic capabilities neglects
the question of how private actors are able to translate their economic
power into political influence through political activities within global
governance.
There are several ways for TNCs to pursue their interests within gov-
ernance processes: On the one hand, studies indicate that private actors
use ‘traditional’ channels of influence and try to lobby policy-makers
to influence public policy output. Recent analyses have shown that
these activities have increased greatly at all levels of governance (Fuchs,
2005). Although an increase in lobbying activities may perhaps not
translate directly into political influence, the extent of activities in this
area makes it seem highly likely that business interests play a promi-
nent role within today’s public decision-making processes. On the other
hand, some scholars have emphasized that TNCs are increasingly able
to set their own private rules through a range of ‘new’ political activ-
ities, such as self-regulation, quasi-regulations, and PPPs (Cutler et al.,
1999).3 Thereby, TNCs have become subjects rather than objects of reg-
ulatory norms. After all, these private governance institutions are more
than business practices companies use to organize their activities. They
reflect rules and standards that have fundamental implications for the
allocation of values and resources in society, the core business of politics
according to Easton (1953).
These developments highlight that TNCs have become prominent
political actors within global governance. While business might provide
skills and abilities that contribute to global problem-solving, however, it
should be considered that private economic interests and public inter-
ests frequently do diverge. In practice, the political activities of business
do not necessarily lead to general improvements in public welfare.
Therefore, the democratic legitimacy of today’s political role of business
actors, specifically TNCs, needs to be discussed.
Evaluating the democratic legitimacy of TNCs as actors in

global governance
Since TNCs are not elected by a demos, their influential role within
public and private policy-making is controversial, and the scientific
community has paid considerable attention to the question of the
democratic legitimacy of their involvement in governance. But how

can we assess the democratic legitimacy of private actors’ engagement
in rule making? Clearly, input legitimacy cannot apply to private gov-
ernance institutions. Accordingly, some scholars have pointed to the
concept of output legitimacy as a solution. However, we argue below
that this concept does not allow the evaluation of democratic legitimacy
of governance activities by TNCs either. As an alternative concept, this
chapter suggests applying the criteria of participation, transparency, and
accountability, proposed by Porter and Ronit (2010), as the best available
indicators for the assessment of the democratic legitimacy of the politi-
cal role of TNCs (see also Schaller, 2007). In the following, we discuss the
three dimensions and operationalize them for the empirical analysis.
Participation
Participation as an indicator of democratic legitimacy requires access to
the policy process of all actors who are potentially affected by a deci-
sion. Democratic norms call for inclusion, because political outcomes
can only be considered legitimate if those who must abide by or adjust
to them have had a part in their formation (Young, 2000). Moreover,
inclusion needs to be accompanied by political equality to ensure that
all actors have an equal right to express their interests and concerns
(Young, 2000). Regarding the processes of public and private decision-
making in global governance, then, participation requires an assessment
of patterns of inclusion and exclusion of state actors, civil society organi-
zations, and business actors, since these groups are directly or indirectly
affected by public decisions and private rule-setting mechanisms.
In our empirical study, we evaluate participation as an indicator of
the democratic legitimacy of public and private governance institu-
tions, focusing on the role of TNCs within the political process. More
specifically, we assess TNCs’ formal and informal influence on public
decision-making processes, exploring their access to informal meet-
ings or formal hearings as well as activities on a consultative basis. In
private governance institutions initiated by TNCs, we evaluate partici-
pation in terms of access provision to other groups affected by the given
institution. In all cases, political equality as a participation qualifier is
evaluated alongside access.
Transparency
The second indicator we apply in our assessment of the democratic
legitimacy of public and private governance mechanisms in the light
of TNCs’ political activities is transparency. Transparency refers to the

provision of timely, reliable, and accessible information on the gover-
nance and performance characteristics of public and private governance
institutions. Governance-related transparency refers to access to infor-
mation within and about decision-making processes and structures.
Performance-related transparency refers to the provision of information
on the associated public benefits gained by the implementation of a
public or private governance mechanism. Both types of transparency
enhance public scrutiny and the visibility of complex processes and
their outcomes, thereby also strengthening meaningful participation
and ensuring accountability.
We consider transparency timely when there is reference to recent
events as well as when critical information is available before impor-
tant decisions are to be made. Reliability of information depends on
the existence of external mechanisms of information control, instead of
simply self-reporting. Finally, we evaluate accessibility to a wide public,
consisting of all stakeholders affected by the governance institution, on
the basis of the channels through which information is communicated.
Such channels include, for instance, the internet, mass media, forums,
seminars, conferences, and so on.
Accountability
Finally, we consider accountability as a third central condition for the
exercise of democratic control and, therefore, for the democratic legit-
imacy of public and private governance institutions. Accountability
is required not only in terms of the internal and external audit-
ing of governance processes and their implementation, but also in
terms of the relationship between the governance mechanism and the
affected public and other relevant stakeholders. Within public gover-
nance, the accountability of policy makers is – at least in theory –
controlled by the public and their power to vote decision-makers out
of office, if a public governance institution performs badly. However,
we also consider ‘democratic control’ a necessary requirement for pri-
vate governance, and thus for the democratic legitimacy of TNCs’
political participation in all processes of global governance. Within pro-
cesses of private governance, internal accountability can be established
through the responsiveness of governing boards to their constituen-
cies. In terms of external accountability, scholars note the ‘role of
intermediary organisations as institutions that are particularly suited
to develop and maintain standards of accountability,’ such as auditing
organizations or certification bodies (Furger, 1997: 449). Such actors

only tend to control whether or not the rules of a governance insti-
tution have been violated. They do not check the implications of a
private governance institution for the affected public. Thus additional
mechanisms of accountability, enabling the affected public or its rep-
resentatives to intervene and adjust the governance institution are
needed.
In sum, we use the criteria of participation, transparency, and
accountability to evaluate the democratic legitimacy of TNCs’ political
role in private and public governance arrangements. For each criterion,
we have defined a number of conditions to be fulfilled. Yet, a perfect
fulfillment of each condition is probably more than one can expect. At
the same time, it is impossible to define quantitative thresholds for these
conditions. Rather, one can analyze whether the conditions are fulfilled,
somewhat fulfilled or not fulfilled. When one or more of the condi-
tions identified above are not fulfilled, we conclude that democratic
legitimacy cannot be attributed to the governance institution under
study.
Debunking output legitimacy

Having introduced the analytical framework for evaluating the demo-
cratic legitimacy of TNCs within global governance in this chapter, we
now explain why we prefer this conceptualization over others. Tra-
ditionally, democratic legitimacy in policy processes is conceived as
deriving from democratic procedures and institutional arrangements.
These procedures and institutional arrangements (e.g., individual rights,
elections, and so on) ensure the autonomy of the individual and the
community, which are fundamental for the self-governance of a demo-
cratic society. Related to this is the idea of the autonomy of the
individual and the equality of every member of the community to
participate in political decision-making.
In modern governance arrangements, and especially in the case of
private governance, however, this conceptualization cannot be applied
to assess the democratic legitimacy of governance. In consequence,
scholars have suggested the concept of ‘output legitimacy’ as a com-
plement to the notion of ‘input legitimacy’ outlined above (Scharpf,
1998).4 According to output-oriented arguments, democratic legitimacy
derives from the effectiveness of the specific governance institutions in
designing policies that promote the public good. However, there are
two presumptions related to this concept of legitimacy: first, that the
involved actors primarily pursue the public good instead of their private
interest and, second, that the public good is served effectively (Scharpf,
2003). On this basis, proponents of the concepts of output legitimacy
argue that the effectiveness of a governance mechanism can serve as a
source of democratic legitimacy.
However, we argue that it is difficult, if not impossible, to evaluate
the effectiveness of a governance mechanism in fostering the public
good objectively. After all, different stakeholders will tend to define
the public good differently. In food governance, for instance, differ-
ent actors tend to delineate quite different sustainability criteria. While
retailers tend to emphasize food safety and traceability, environmen-
tal NGOs tend to stress ecological aspects, while development NGOs
and farmers, especially in the South, will point to the importance of
rural livelihoods. In other words, the definition of consensual objectives
of a private governance institution requires processes of discussion and
negotiation. The effectiveness of a private governance institution, there-
fore, cannot be objectively measured without such a process either. In
consequence, criteria of participation, transparency, and accountability
move to the forefront again, in order to allow a democratically legiti-
mate participatory, transparent, and responsive deliberative process to
define the objectives. Similarly, measuring the effectiveness of the gov-
ernance institution against its self-set objectives does not provide a way
out of the dilemma. What if these self-set objectives were illegal, mean-
ingless, or even hurtful to those affected? In sum, we argue that the
concept of output legitimacy is fundamentally flawed, and that it is
more appropriate to measure the democratic legitimacy of private actors
in governance processes on the basis of participation, transparency, and
accountability.
Empirical illustration
As a next step, we will illustrate our theoretical argument with refer-

ence to empirical cases of private and public governance, specifically
private and public environmental governance. For private environmen-
tal governance, we focus on the GlobalGap and MSC, and for public
environmental governance on the EU’s CO2 proposal. Our analysis is
based on expert interviews and content analyses of public informa-
tion provided on the internet and in publicly available documentation.
In addition, we draw on findings provided by previous empirical case
studies on the governance institutions.
The democratic legitimacy of TNCs’ activities in private governance

In the context of globalization and global governance, a new form of
private rule-setting power of business actors can be recognized. On top
of their ‘traditional’ potential to influence public policy output through
lobbying activities, TNCs are increasingly able to set their own pri-
vate rules and standards. The political activities of business that lead to
the implementation of private governance mechanisms affect not only
other business actors but also the public. Therefore, they need to be
analyzed with regard to their democratic legitimacy.
Standards are defined as a rule of measurement established by reg-
ulation or authority (Jones and Hill, 1994). Private standards tend to
be voluntary in nature and rely on certification mechanisms to identify
actors complying with the principles defined in the standard. GlobalGap
and MSC are examples of such standards in global food governance. In
the following section, the role of TNCs within them will be analyzed
with a view to their democratic legitimacy.
Before we proceed with the analysis, let us present the examined stan-
dards in more detail. GlobalGap was developed in 1997 by a group
of retailers belonging to the Euro-retailers Produce Working Group
(EUREP). While initially applying only to fruits and vegetables, the
standard now covers meat products and fish from aquaculture as well.
Completion and verification of a checklist consisting of 254 questions
is required in order to acquire GlobalGap certification. This checklist is
divided into 41 ‘major musts,’ 122 ‘minor musts’ as well as 91 recom-
mendations ‘shoulds.’ Traceability and food safety are covered by major
must practices, while minor musts and shoulds include environmental
and animal welfare issues. Currently, GlobalGap covers over 80,000 pro-
ducers in 80 countries. As a business-to-business standard it is not visible
to consumers.
The Marine Stewardship Council (MSC) is a label for sustainable fish-
ery, created in 1997 as a result of an agreement between Unilever and
the WWF. The idea behind MSC is to address the worldwide decline in
fish stocks by awarding sustainably managed fisheries with a certifica-
tion and a label that could be affixed to retail products (Ponte, 2007:
161). The standard is based on three principles (maintenance of the
target fish stock, minimal environmental impact, and effective manage-
ment) and 31 performance indicators. It can be applied to a wide range
of fisheries found across the world coasts, oceans, and freshwater bodies
(Leadbitter et al., 2006). At the moment, MSC aims at specific fisheries
rather than species that could come from multiple fisheries and does not
cover aquaculture (Iles, 2007). Moreover, it is currently quite small in its
fishery coverage and is mostly active in Europe, but its endorsement

by major retailers is expected to change this situation in the future. In
the next section, the role of business within the two cases of private
governance is analyzed with regard to its implications for participation,
Participation
Participation in GlobalGap is based on membership. Currently, it has
42 retail and food service members (European, except for one Japanese
and two US), 149 producer/supplier members (41 from outside Europe),
and 100 associate members, such as certification bodies, consulting,
and crop protection industry.5 Not all members have equal rights in
decision-making processes, however. Until 2001, the standard had a
retail dominated governance structure, but since then retailers and pro-
ducers participate equally. More specifically, both the Steering Commit-
tee and the GlobalGap Sector Committees have 50 per cent retailer and
50 per cent supplier representation. The Committee members are elected
by closed ballot of current retailer and supplier members. Each con-
stituency elects its own representatives. Associate members are allowed
access to the committees but lack formal decision-making power.
Despite equal participation rights for retailers and suppliers, mem-
bers from developing countries are underrepresented in GlobalGap.
More specifically, only eight producer/supplier members are from Africa,
seven from Asia and 16 from Central and South America, at the
moment. In the sector committee for crops, responsible for revising
the standard, the majority of both retailer and producer members is
from Europe (17 out of 25). In 2007, however, GlobalGap initiated a
special project to provide more opportunities for African smallholder
representation in the standard-setting process.6 As part of this project,
it has appointed a Smallholder Observer and Ambassador for Africa
whose role is to participate in meetings, give input on the standard
as it stands now, and make proposals for the future. GlobalGap has
also initiated a smallholder Task Force with the objective to incorporate
different stakeholder views and experiences related to GlobalGap imple-
mentation in smallholder agriculture, and to consider options for the
next revision of the standard in 2011 (GlobalGap News, February 2009).
Even though such initiatives are welcome, it will take time to evaluate
whether they constitute effective and sufficient measures to strengthen
the representation of developing countries within GlobalGap’s gov-
ernance arrangements, and to incorporate their voice in its future
development.
MSC is a multi-stakeholder initiative, developed from a partnership

between Unilever and WWF. Since 2000, it is governed by the Board
of Trustees comprised of global fisheries experts, who approve plans,
targets, strategies, financial accountability, and appoint chief board
and committee members (Owens, 2008). In contrast to GlobalGap,
MSC is not a membership organization. Moreover, trustees are not
elected but appointed by cooptation.7 This self-recruitment princi-
ple has been criticized by experts, who observe that MSC’s gover-
nance structure functions much like a corporate board of directors,
rather than a stakeholder council (Gulbrandsen, 2008). Other insti-
tutional organs of MSC include the Technical Advisory Board and
the Stakeholder Council, which advise the Board. In addition to the
three governance bodies, committees and working groups are set up
to address specific regional or topical issues. Their members come
from the MSC Board, Technical Advisory Board and Stakeholder Coun-
cil, and may include other experts who are invited to advise MSC.8
Similar to GlobalGap, however, critical commentators observe discrim-
ination in access for representatives from developing countries (Ponte,
2007). More specifically, almost all trustees are from the United States,
Europe, or Australia (one from Latin America), although some of them
are focusing on fisheries in Africa or the Southern Ocean. In addi-
tion, only one of about ten workshops carried out since 1997 took
place in a developing country (South Africa) (Ponte, 2007).9 MSC has
initiated efforts to overcome such criticisms by introducing special
programs to improve developing countries’ access to MSC certifica-
tion and global sustainable seafood markets, and assist small scale
fisheries to gain access to data and resources needed for certifica-
tion. Even though these efforts might improve market access, they do
not guarantee more equal representation in decision-making processes,
however.10
In sum, both private standards examined in this chapter are relatively
open in terms of access, which means that the condition of access as
an indicator for participation seems to be fulfilled at first sight. Farmers’
associations are partners of the GlobalGap governance structure, while
MSC includes by definition multiple stakeholders. Both standards, how-
ever, are dominated by Northern stakeholders. The Western inception
of the standards as well as existing resource asymmetries prevent equal
participation of actors from developing countries in both cases. In con-
sequence, the criterion of participation as inclusive and equal access of
all actors affected by the standards is not satisfied from a democratic
legitimacy perspective.
Transparency
Transparency is evaluated in this chapter on the basis of the provision of
timely, reliable, and accessible information on the governance and per-
formance characteristics of the standards. In the cases examined here,
the main source of information regarding the standards is the web. The
accessibility of information varies, however. More specifically, as com-
puter penetration rates in a substantial share of the developing world
are comparatively low, we expect differences in the visibility of stan-
dards between Northern and Southern publics. Next to the web, both
GlobalGap and MSC hold seminars and conferences, which are open
to the public upon registration. Again, resource-poor groups are likely
to face accessibility difficulties due to information and transportation
costs, however.
In addition, both GlobalGap and MSC provide extensive and detailed
information on governance structures, membership, and goals. Both
standards allow access to minutes of conferences, roundtables, and short
video archives. MSC also publishes information on its board meetings.
In both cases, most of the documents related to the development and
monitoring of standards are only available to insiders, however. More-
over, no protocols of caucus group meetings are available. Likewise,
information on the processes themselves, especially while they are going
on, is rarely available. In addition, information to the general public is
usually provided after decisions have been made, restraining its time-
liness and constraining meaningful intervention from the part of civil
society.
Regarding performance-related transparency both standards suffer
from even more severe limitations. Detailed information on how well
the standards perform is typically lacking and, when provided, it is usu-
ally based on self-reporting. GlobalGap, for instance, holds a series of
‘Success Stories’ where it presents its social and market impact, includ-
ing the launching of new certificates, pilot projects, and corporate social
responsibility initiatives. Such stories constitute selected elements, how-
ever, and they do not represent the overall GlobalGap performance.
Likewise, MSC has been criticized for withholding information on catch
patterns, patterns of industry adoption of practices, by-catch and habitat
damage problems, and individual producer activities (Iles, 2007). How-
ever, since 2005 MSC has initiated an effort to undergo evaluation of its
performance environmental impact from external auditors. Moreover, it
currently collaborates with the International Social and Environmental
Accreditation and Labelling (ISEAL) Alliance to explore the development
of a Code of Good Practice on Measuring the Impact of Certification.11
In sum, transparency is provided in both cases, but only to a lim-

ited extent. Detailed information on governance structures, member-
ship, and projects is available on the web. Moreover, conferences and
seminars are open to all, and relevant information is published on
the web, even though board and/or caucus group meetings are not
made public. As this type of information provision requires techno-
logical and budgetary resources, however, accessibility is not provided
equally to all relevant parties. Likewise, both standards suffer from
limitations in performance-related transparency, although MSC has
taken first steps to correct that failure. The reliability of information
is also higher in MSC due to external evaluations of the standard’s
performance.
Accountability
In both cases of private governance examined in this chapter, stake-
holders need to report on their activities on a somewhat regular basis.
Thus, the standards provide a basis for internal accountability. Infor-
mation about the extent to which peer pressure is actually used to
ensure compliance is not publicly available, however. Moreover, exter-
nal accountability in the narrow sense is provided as well, as both
standards rely on third party certification for monitoring and enforc-
ing compliance with the standard. More specifically, a company wishing
to be certified by GlobalGap and MSC appoints an accredited certifica-
tion body to audit the company. GlobalGap, for instance, signs service
agreements with independent Certified Bodies (CBs), which act as inde-
pendent auditing companies. CBs are not permitted to support certified
or controlled farms on a consultation basis and must have at least
three years of product experience in the food industry. Likewise, MSC
requires assessments to be carried out by independent, third-party certi-
fiers. The certification bodies of both GlobalGap and MSC have to be
accredited by independent accreditation bodies to certify against the
standards.12 Usually a certified company is audited at least once a year.
The person or body deciding to grant, suspend, revoke, or renew certi-
fication should be independent of the auditor.13 Little information on
the extent to which these mechanisms prevent non-complying com-
panies from becoming certified is available, however. Moreover, critical
observers point to weaknesses of third-party certification mechanisms,
one of which is the dependence of certifiers on contracts. Furthermore,
the certification organizations are trained by the standard owners, in
most cases, while the methodology used in the certification process
is considered an intellectual property right of the standard, and thus
details remain confidential. This observation also applies to the cases

examined here.
A fundamental question, moreover, is to whom accountability is pro-
vided. In other words, who has the instruments available to demand
compliance in the case of private food governance? In the case of
GlobalGap, farmers and retailers participating in the standard are the
typical stakeholders, who can hold the standard accountable. In the case
of multi-stakeholder initiatives, such as MSC, the group able to demand
accountability is by definition broader. Yet, the analysis of the distribu-
tion of participation above shows that in both cases far from all groups
potentially affected by the standards are represented. Moreover, the diffi-
culties in attaining transparency from a developing country perspective
reinforce access inequality. Publication of external evaluations of stan-
dards’ performance, as in the case of MSC, could improve accountability
to some extent. Even in that case, however, evaluations are made on
the basis of the standard’s own terms of references and do not cover
externalities or unintended consequences.
In sum, the picture with respect to the accountability of private
food standards is mixed. Internal and even narrowly defined exter-
nal accountability frequently exist. Indeed, peer review mechanisms or
auditing of standards are a feature of most of the standards and ini-
tiatives, including the two cases considered here. Yet, broader external
accountability is fundamentally limited. In terms of this broader notion
of accountability, then, private food governance institutions tend to
exhibit little democratic legitimacy. Having analyzed the democratic
legitimacy of TNCs’ activities within private governance, we now turn
to scrutinizing business political activities within processes of public
governance.
The democratic legitimacy of TNCs’ activities in public governance

The pluralist study of interest group participation and influence on
public policy-making has a long tradition within political science
(Dahl, 1961). The political activity through which business tradition-
ally exercises its influence on policy output is lobbying, combined with
campaign and party finance. Although increasing in the context of
globalization, business lobbying activities to influence public gover-
nance are frequently ignored in a global governance focus. However,
studies indicate that lobbying is still an extremely important political
activity of business (Fuchs, 2007). Therefore, this chapter scrutinizes
the democratic legitimacy of business’ political activities within public
governance with regard to the CO2 proposal of the European Commis-

sion as part of the European Climate and Energy Package aiming to
reduce CO2 emissions by 20 per cent by 2020.
In 1998, the European Automobile Manufacturers Association (ACEA)
and the European Commission agreed on a voluntary commitment to
reduce CO2 emissions from cars down to 140 g/km by 2008. However,
since it was foreseeable that the car industry would not be able to fulfill
the agreed targets within the given time frame, the European Commis-
sion decided that binding legislation was necessary. In December 2007,
it presented a new proposal on how to regulate the CO2 emissions for
new cars that formulated a binding target at 120 g/km emissions by 2012
as well as suggestions for penalties for manufacturers who fail to meet
the targets.
The presentation of the Commission’s new strategy was accompanied
by heavy lobbying by representatives of the automotive industry, who
addressed their activities not only to members of the European Commis-
sion and the European Parliament but also to political decision-makers
at the national level. The German car industry especially made intense
efforts to exercise influence on the three relevant decision-making bod-
ies to intervene in the development of the new proposal. After a year of
controversial debates over the Commission’s proposal within the central
Committees of the European Parliament and between the Parliament
and the European Council, a compromise agreement was reached in
December 2008 that only gradually phases in the desired targets. Thus,
the agreement limits CO2 emissions to 120 g/km for 65 per cent of new
cars in 2012, 75 per cent in 2013, 80 per cent in 2014, and 100 per cent
in 2015. On top of that, the final agreement substantially reduced
the fines for non-compliance compared to the Commission’s original
proposal (EurActiv, 2009). Against this background, we assess the demo-
cratic legitimacy of TNCs’ political activities within this process of public
governance by applying the framework developed above. Specifically,
we focus on the legislative lobbying activities of TNCs aiming to influ-
ence the decision-making process in the European Parliament between
January 2008 and January 2009.14
Participation
We evaluate the participatory dimension of democratic legitimacy by
examining the legislative lobbying process within the European Parlia-
ment. Within public governance, there are several ways for business
actors to participate in decision-making processes. TNCs serve as con-
sultants for policy-makers within formal decision-making processes.
Moreover, they are active in informal meetings outside the institutional

setting. Either way, to have the capability to participate in the decision-
making process and to influence public policy output, business repre-
sentatives need to have access to the political decision-makers. Access
does not necessarily translate into effective influence, of course. How-
ever, it is a crucial precondition for the potential to exercise influence
(Lowi, 1969; Richardson and Jordan, 1979; Bouwen, 2004).
The evidence indicates that, in the examined case, TNCs primarily
exercised influence on policy-makers on an informal basis. While there
were some hearings with external experts during the decision-making
process, the major share of participation did not take place via general,
institutionalized processes, but depended on an invitation of representa-
tives of the European Parliament. Business actors pursued their interests
primarily through informal meetings with decision-makers and through
their participation in the ‘Forum for the Automobile and Society.’ This
sector-specific forum, financed by the car industry, is aimed at bringing
together decision-makers and representatives from the car industry to
exchange information on topical and future issues regarding the role
of the car industry (FAS, 2009). Importantly, civil society organizations
are missing from this Forum, and comparable forums for state-interest
group interaction with a more inclusive nature were not established on
this issue.
What does it mean if informal rather than formal contacts and pro-
cesses of communication dominate in public governance? The mere
participation in the Forum and informal meetings with representatives
of the European Parliament does not guarantee the successful influence
of the automotive industry on public policy-making, of course. Yet, the
predominance of informal modes of access raises questions about checks
on the influence of private interest, and about the balance between dif-
ferent private interests. Indeed, given the favorable output of the policy
process for business interests, it seems plausible to conclude that busi-
ness actors were able to play a decisive role within the specific policy
process via their lobbying activities in the informal settings.
From the perspective of democratic theory, it would seem that the
findings on the exercise of influence by TNCs in the examined case
of private environmental governance raises serious concerns regarding
democratic legitimacy, since the equal participation of all affected inter-
est groups was not guaranteed. With regard to the condition of equal
access, we can therefore argue that this condition is not fulfilled suf-
ficiently. Business actors had predominant access to decision-makers
through informal channels, in particular due to businesses’ extensive
resources in relation to civil society actors. However, the access of other

societal groups was not guaranteed.
Transparency
In the examined case, the results of the empirical analysis indicate that a
relatively high degree of governance-related transparency can be found
on a formal level. For instance, the parliamentary debate on the CO2
proposal was open to the public, and all amendments made during
the decision-making process could be accessed online. Furthermore, the
nominations of key decision-making positions within the political pro-
cess, such as the rapporteur of the European Parliament for the CO2
proposal and the shadow rapporteurs for the different coalitions, were
publicly accessible. However, the results of the conducted interviews
also highlight that a lot of lobbying actually proceeded behind the
formal scenes, and many agreements were made informally before the
official deadlines. To access timely information on these informal deci-
sion processes, and to be able to intervene in the political developments
at opportune moments, actors needed a network of informal contacts.
Due to the significant role of informal channels of participation by pri-
vate actors, then, the whole policy process became less traceable and
transparent for the public.
Moreover, the analysis indicates that information on the governance
performance, the second indicator of transparency, was accessible to the
public in the examined case. Before the European Commission presents
a new legislative proposal, it assesses the potential consequences the leg-
islation might have for the public. In the research example, the impact
assessment for the CO2 proposal was accessible online (impact assess-
ment FII/2007/0297). However, in regard to the technical information
providing the basis for the impact assessment, political decision-makers
relied on the data provided by the relevant business actors. Although
information provided by business should not be seen as unreliable and
biased per se, it is also clear that business has its own interest. Thus,
the rationale of why a certain policy is being implemented, instead of
others, can never be considered as a completely objective process. The
one-sided dependence of decision-makers on the provision of informa-
tion by TNCs needs to be challenged from the perspective of democratic
legitimacy. From a perspective of transparency, however, the lack of pub-
lic information on the data sources for the impact assessment must be a
cause for serious concern.
In sum, it can be argued that the governance-related transparency in
the examined case of public decision-making was given on a formal
level. However, it appears that relevant decisions were, in fact, taken

outside institutionalized forums, therefore reducing the overall level of
transparency. Moreover, the empirical results indicate that transparency
may frequently be limited in terms of the performance assessments of
a proposed governance institution, due to the one-sided reliance on
information provided by TNCs. Therefore, with respect to transparency,
our analysis indicates serious challenges to the democratic legitimacy of
public environmental governance and the role of TNCs in it.
Accountability
As in any case of public decision-making, political decision-makers
can theoretically be held accountable for the performance of the CO2
proposal by the citizens of the EU, who have the ability to vote decision-
makers out of office, if the legislative initiative performs badly. However,
to be able to fulfill this control function, the public needs reliable
information, on the basis of which it can exercise control effectively.
Accordingly, it can be argued that, due to the partially intransparent
governance structures, effective control by the people existed only to a
limited extent. Transparency, then, is a necessary condition for account-
ability. Although the final decision was obviously taken by the members
of the European Parliament, who can be held accountable for their deci-
sions, the procedural and performance-related information, necessary
for the meaningful exercise of processes to ensure accountability, was at
least partially lacking. We therefore argue, with respect to the question
of accountability, that the informal and intransparent participatory role
of TNCs within the decision-making process of the CO2 proposal can be
assessed as weakening the control function of the public.
Conclusion
In this chapter, we have scrutinized the democratic legitimacy of the

increasingly political role of TNCs within processes of private and public
governance. Assessing the democratic legitimacy of business activi-
ties with regard to the dimensions of participation, transparency, and
accountability, we found a general democratic deficit in the involve-
ment of private actors within processes of global environmental gov-
ernance. The participation of business interest groups within (public)
policy-making has always been of concern in the scientific as well as the
popular debate. Yet, due to the increasing political influence of TNCs
as a result of the ongoing transnationalization and globalization of the
economy, this issue has arguably gained urgency.
Regarding the role of TNCs within private governance institutions, we

found that concerns have to be raised regarding the unequal participa-
tion and lack of transparency in the development of private standards,
as well as problems in attributing accountability to private governance
institutions. Moreover, transparency and accountability can only be
attributed in private governance schemes when it is restricted to the
policy output, and therefore narrowly defined. Private governance, then,
needs to be evaluated critically, with respect to its democratic legitimacy.
With a view to the democratic legitimacy of TNCs’ political role in
public governance, our findings indicate that business actors mainly
participate in decision-making processes on an informal basis through
lobbying beyond the public sphere. As a result, a lack of transparency
can be noticed with respect to the question of whether and how TNCs
are able to participate and influence public decision-making. This lack
of transparency, in turn, weakens the possibility of external moni-
toring. Therefore, the increasing political activities of TNCs in public
decision-making should cause substantial concern from the perspective
of democratic theory, as well.
In sum, we find that both private and public environmental gov-
ernance in a world with large resource asymmetries between private
and politically active interests are associated with substantial weak-
nesses regarding their democratic legitimacy. Therefore, we argue that
the democratic legitimacy of the political role of TNCs, in particular, in
today’s governance processes needs to be critically evaluated. Further-
more, we hope to be able to demonstrate with our analysis, that the size
and resources of today’s TNCs do not only cause concern in terms of
market concentration and the establishment of oligopolies from the per-
spective of economic competition, but just as much from the perspective
of political competition. The difficulty of establishing democratic gov-
ernance processes in a globalized world does not escape us. However,
we aim to emphasize that the development of effective mechanisms to
improve participation, transparency, and accountability within global
governance will have to take into account the asymmetrical power rela-
tionships among the different actors involved. Our analysis serves as a
reminder, however, that the legitimate participation of business within
public and private governance cannot be achieved without establishing
checks and balances, which in today’s world have to include control
mechanisms of corporate power.
In general, a higher degree of transparency and regulation within pub-
lic as well as private governance is needed. With respect to the role of
business within public governance, efforts to make the lobbying process
more transparent through a voluntary register and code of conduct for

lobbyists exist, to be sure (COM, 2008: 323). In the past, however, these
efforts have been far too weak and there is reason to doubt that the new
voluntary agreement will be more effective. With a view to improving
transparency within private governance, possible mechanisms include,
for instance, investment in collective action and networking and other
forms of strategic alliances among civil society actors that help balance
the power exercised by corporations (Cook and Iliopoulos, 2000; Fulton,
2001; Johnson and Berdegue, 2004; Levins, 2002). More fundamentally,
any attempt to attribute democratic legitimacy to private actors in global
governance will have to answer the question: Legitimate to whom? In
this respect, any analysis has to take a position on the definition of the
relevant public.
In a world of globalization and (global) governance, then, whose voice
is being heard and whose interests are being served within processes of
public and private global governance continue to be crucial questions
to be asked from the perspective of democratic legitimacy.
Notes
1. In the following the legislative initiative will be abbreviated as ‘CO2 pro-
posal.’
2. These criteria are subsumed under the term ‘throughput legitimacy’ in the
Introduction and Chapter 2 of this volume. However, since this term corre-
lates with the concepts of input and output legitimacy (where we question
the appropriateness of the latter), we prefer not to adopt this terminology
and name the specific criteria instead.
3. Such activities have existed before, but to a much lesser extent and, most of
the time, with much more engagement of public actors (Cutler et al., 1999).
4. A number of different conceptualizations of output legitimacy exist within
the literature today. Our critique in this chapter focuses on the original
concept of output legitimacy relating democratic legitimacy to the effec-
tiveness of a governance institution (Scharpf, 1998), because this concept is
still quite prevalent in the literature, and has been applied in rather naïve
manner to private governance institutions by some authors. A different
conceptualization of output legitimacy can be found in Chapter 2 of this
volume.
5. http://www2.globalgap.org (accessed 28 April 2009).
6. http://www.africa-observer.info/ (accessed 28 April 2009).
7. In April 2009, there were four trustees from the fishing industry, three
from environmental NGOs (WWF), three from science, two from retail,
and one miscellaneous (www.msc.org/about-us/governance/structure/board-
of-trustees/whos-on-the-msc-board, accessed 19 April 2009).
8. http://www.msc.org/about-us/governance/structure (accessed 28 April 2009).
9. Recently a ‘Sustainable Fisheries Fund’ has been set up, independently of

MSC, to help developing country fisheries to go through the certification
process (Ponte, 2007).
10. http://www.msc.org/about-us/credibility/working-with-developing-countries
(accessed 29 April 2009).
11. http://www.msc.org/about-us/credibility/measuring-environmental-impacts
(accessed 14 May 2009).
12. As GlobalGap is an associate member of the International Accreditation
Forum (IAF), however, it has the capacity to accredit the Certification Bodies
itself. IAF is the world association of Conformity Assessment Accreditation
Bodies in the fields of management systems, products, services, personnel,
and other similar programs of conformity assessment. IAF members accredit
certification or registration bodies that issue certificates attesting that an
organization’s management, products, or personnel comply with a specified
standard (called conformity assessment) (see http://www.iaf.nu/ accessed 27
July 2009).
13. GlobalGap reports, for instance, that it has removed certification bodies
from its list due to misconduct, and will continue to do so to maintain the
integrity of the system (see http://www.globalgap.org/cms/front_content.
php?idart=86&idcat=71&lang=1&client=1 accessed 27 July 2009).
14. Due to the restricted scope of this chapter, the analysis does not con-
sider business’ lobbying activities aiming to influence decision-makers in
the European Commission or the European Council, and thus only catches
one facet of the complex lobbying activities of business during the political
process.
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4
Philanthropic Foundations: US
Grant-Making in the Middle East
Ann Vogel
‘It is foundations alone that are effectively accountable to no

one.’
(Fleishman, 2004: 114)
Introduction
This chapter addresses the transnational agency of philanthropy. It

focuses on philanthropic foundations1 rather than on philanthropists
and limits the analysis to the case of US philanthropy and its inter-
national grant-making activities in the Middle East. Foundations have
largely escaped the contemporary debate of democratic legitimacy and
democratic credentials of transnational actors (TNAs) in the arena of
global governance. However, substantial debate on foundation legiti-
macy within the US exists (cf. Prewitt et al., 2006). As ‘actors abroad,’
foundations have also been studied empirically and theorized as agents
of US hegemony, particularly with reference to science and knowl-
edge networks, Cold War foreign policy, and economic development
(cf. Ahmad, 1991; Dezalay and Garth, 1998). In the current discourse
on ‘the accountability of world politics’ (Keohane, 2006), foundations
have still to be located as agents leaving their mark on global gover-
nance institutions and civil society organizations (CSOs) (cf. Price, 2003;
Scholte, 2004; Jönsson, 2008). It is indeed difficult to find a single pol-
icy arena at the global level – be it human rights, environmental policy,
or health and anti-poverty initiatives – where foundations are not par-
ticipating. A recent example as to how foundations network in order
to ‘remake’ whole societal subsectors can be seen in the Partnership for
Higher Education in Africa, an initiative launched in 2000 by Carnegie
64
Ann Vogel 65
Corporation and the Rockefeller, Ford, and MacArthur foundations, to

develop higher education in the wake of democratic and economic
reforms for the first time in 30 years across many African nations (http://
www.foundation-partnership.org/).
Philanthropists’ contributions to the making of a global civil society,
as well as the shape of some of the core global governance institutions,
cannot be ignored. George Soros’s Open Society Institute and his Foun-
dation Network that jump-started NGO activities in post-1989 Eastern
and Central Europe is a key example of such activity, illustrating well the
magnitude and reach of philanthropy. The oldest and most prestigious
large independent US foundations have been not only audiences or par-
ticipants but also instigators of global governance institutions. Sutton
(1987) argues that the large foundations with international scope all do
three things, which establish their efficacy and their power: firstly, they
engage in building of competencies or capacities; secondly, they fund
demonstrations and pilot projects to be replicated by other agencies
and in other contexts; thirdly, they support research and policy anal-
ysis that may provide solution to human problems (See also Simmons,
2004). Since the mid-twentieth century, the Ford Foundation has had an
international agenda for the advancement of human welfare and tack-
ling humankind’s most pressing problems. It can perhaps be seen as
the first foundation that defined and tackled global social challenges.
Apart from financing global governance institutions – including so-
called mega grants for agencies set up under institutions like the United
Nations’ World Food Program – foundations act as important political
players. This is consistent with their societal role domestically and in
the foreign policy arena of the US state (e.g., Parmar, 1999).
The Rockefeller Foundation, the second one established in modern-
day philanthropy after the Carnegie Corporation, is a further case in
point. Some of its organizational elements became templates for global
governance institutions such as the World Health Organization (WHO).
Other organizations have been directly funded or endowed by it. For
example, the Population Council, which conducts biomedical, pub-
lic health, and social-scientific research and spearheads initiatives for
access to reproductive health by women in developing countries, was
established in 1952 with finance from the Rockefeller Brothers Fund,
while its administrative and programmatic layout is based on the Med-
ical Science Division’s program by the Rockefeller Foundation. Further
examples include the Rockefeller Foundation’s financing of future non-
US officials’ training at the World Bank and the ‘Green Revolution,’ an
initiative carried out by both Rockefeller and Ford Foundations.
66 Democratic Legitimacy of Philanthropic Foundations
One reason behind the neglect of philanthropy in current debates on

global democracy may be the historical overemphasis on transnational
advocacy which, starting in the 1990s, highlighted the role of CSOs
in transnational political space. Pressure groups that seek to influence
governments and intergovernmental negotiations cannot be taken as
typical of all the actors in a global civil society. Recent awareness in this
regard is evident in research on ‘private governance,’ but private actors
such as foundations are still not adequately conceptualized. In Ruggie’s
account, for example, transnational companies developing HIV/AIDS
vaccine and the Global Fund to Fight AIDS are mentioned without a
proper acknowledgement of the instigator role of major philanthropic
contributions, including institution-building and the central role on
the board of trustees by the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation (2004:
517).2 This oversight is illustrative of the general lack of observations
of foundations as brokers in globe-spanning networks of a diversity of
civil society actors, where they bring together the various agents who
feature in democratization debates. As argued by Scholte (2004: 225),
such networks, ‘like any other political entity,’ involve power hierarchies
and struggles, and research on foundation communities and networks,
including those that involve grant beneficiaries and the whole spectrum
of foundations, is needed (Bernholz, 1999: 361; Ann Vogel, 2009a).
Given the neglect of foundations in research on democracy in global
governance, I start with a discussion of the legitimacy of foundations,
applying the concepts of input, output, and throughput legitimacy (see
Uhlin, Chapter 2 this volume). Thereafter, I provide an account of inter-
national grant-making for NGOs in the Middle East (1995–2008) as an
empirical illustration of the multi-layered action arenas of philanthropic
foundations.
The legitimacy of philanthropic foundations
Foundations are regulated non-market actors. Their mode of operation

is a unilateral gift transfer with reference to a ‘public good’ and a pro-
cess enabled by structural socio-economic inequality. Most foundation
types and their processes are institutional forms of patronage and pater-
nalism, sanctioned by the power of their wealth (economic power)
and their authority status obtained in the economy, which morally
obliges philanthropic elites to steward society by ‘economically oriented
action’ (Weber, 1980: 31). Most of the independent foundations make
no claim to a democratic principle of organization. Yet, as some have
cautioned, the US foundation sector is not monolithic (Prewitt, 2006a),
Ann Vogel 67
and many foundations have made conscious attempts to generate

wider representation of constituencies based on social identity (e.g.,
ethnicity or gender) and seen in minority organizations with activist-
controlled boards such as the Haymarket People’s Fund (Ostrander,
1995). As Rabinowitz (1990: 20) notes, however, ‘[f]or most of the heav-
ily endowed foundations, programs that would qualify under the rubric
of progressive social change are only incidental to the larger purposes
of the organization.’ It is those elite foundations which matter in the
global governance arena and which are unnamed subjects in the global
civil society discourse.
Based on Nielsen (1985), Frumkin (2006: 102) summarizes the foun-
dation legitimacy as follows:
Foundations are profoundly undemocratic in that they do not give

their grant recipients or the communities in which they operate the
ability to recall them or reverse their behavior. In fact, almost all phi-
lanthropy is profoundly undemocratic in that wealthy elites use their
resources to enact their personal vision of the public good . . .
and explains further how this behavior is organized:
Some foundations may convene experts and listen to the opinions

of others before making major commitments, but, by and large,
philanthropic decision making is a private affair. The meetings of
foundation boards are not open to the public, board members do
not stand for public election, and these organizations operate largely
as they see fit, or how their founders, families, or trustees judge most
efficacious.
In fact, it is notoriously difficult to obtain information which would

enable studies of micro-processes of foundations’ organizational behav-
ior. Where their archives are accessible (e.g., for the Rockefeller Founda-
tion), foundations still enjoy a lengthy period of data protection. US
Internal Revenue requirements are only partially useful in that they
provide insight into employment and financial indicators (e.g., assets
and grants).3 Actual political decision-making, including program scope
and grant allocation, is largely not observed and documented. This aura
of privacy and lack of transparency indicates low levels of democratic
throughput legitimacy, contrasting sharply with the influence founda-
tions have obtained in public policy arenas (cf. Fleishman, 2004; Prewitt
et al., 2006).
Foundations have gained legitimacy through their problem-solving

capacity and ability to deliver public goods that states failed to pro-
vide (Karl, 1997; Smith and Lipsky, 1993). This makes sense where
trust in government is low and coupled with the relatively low cul-
tural expectations by citizens on the state to create public goods. This
institutionalized pattern not only characterizes the US polity but also
US philanthropy, as it continues to globalize, imprinting its cultural
logic onto other countries’ NGO sectors and civil society at large (Vogel,
2006). The actual interchange between organizational development of
the NGO sector, including legitimization processes, and US state agency
have varied over time, of course.
It appears that the emergent ‘accountability regime’ for foundations,
and in broad terms NGOs, is driven by the state (e.g., Sarbanes-Oxley Act
of 2002) and supported by managerial and administrative professionals,
seeking to establish a risk management system that preempts the occa-
sional scandals, as well as donor and volunteer fatigue within the more
macro context of public accountability. This regime is technocratic, as
it is far removed from more liberal and leftist concerns over the societal
legitimacy of foundations as providers of public goods. Its operational
radius encloses transparency and measurability of means-ends relation-
ships (e.g., Anheier and Hawkes, 2009). Within this ‘accountability
regime’ the notion of ‘the social impact’ has gained some currency,
with some members of the NGO populations aiming to develop and
legitimize performance measures to track output legitimacy. Legal com-
pliance, fiduciary role, and administrative oversight are key components
to NGO and foundation philanthropy.
Several works on legitimacy and accountability, written over the past
decade or so, provide concrete arguments for the weak legitimacy of
foundations from a democratic point of view. As Hammack (2006: 49)
points out, though, ‘their diversity and their close integration with the
American nonprofit sector as a whole – together with the commitment
of America’s political culture to the rights of individuals and of private
property – have enabled them to defend their legitimacy to this day.’
Nevertheless, critical voices from many corners are manifest (for an
overview see Hammack, 2006). To illustrate some of the more general
claims, Frumkin’s remarks (see above) suggest that foundations score
very low on input and throughput legitimacy. Fleishman (2004: 105)
records similar observations from his field studies, noting foundations’
unwillingness to measure their own social impact, which indicates low
output legitimacy of this actor but is consistent with organizational
Ann Vogel 69
theories of actors in institutional (compared to technical) environments

where values dominate over means–goal relationships (Scott, 1991).
Output legitimacy is also questioned with respect to the redistribu-
tive effects of charitable tax-exemption for foundations, as they do not
fully redistribute from the wealthy to the poor (cf. Wolpert in Prewitt,
2006a: 123–49). In defense, some private foundations have done two
things: either they have targeted the poor in their programs directly
(as beneficiaries of NGO grant recipients and in a widening arena of
humanitarian aid), or they have engaged in ‘sunsetting’ their foun-
dations, i.e., spending the endowment down more swiftly, in order
to achieve higher credibility in the eyes of those demanding faster
payout.
At the global level, an accountability regime has emerged with respect
to cross-border philanthropy, with a number of large international
non-governmental organizations (INGOs) endorsing the ‘Accountabil-
ity Charter for International Advocacy NGOs and Networks’ (IANGO
Charter) in 2006. This step follows from an earlier movement within the
US and European foundation sectors, which formulated the ‘Principles
of Accountability for International Philanthropy’ (Anheier and Hawkes,
2009). Comparing the defining principles for good governance across
these documents, we find long lists of criteria, including ‘good gover-
nance’ itself. Moreover, we find values such as ‘integrity, understanding,
respect, responsiveness, fairness, cooperation and collaboration, and
effectiveness’ on the list by the European Foundation Centre and
Council of Foundations, supplemented with cultural-exchange sensitive
descriptions. The difference between the INGO and the philanthropy
charters is probably best summarized as a matter of rights for the
INGOs (‘respect for universal principles (such as freedom of speech and
assembly)’, ‘non-discrimination,’ public criticism and corruption) and a
contrasting language of negotiation by philanthropies.
Overall, the global-level accountability discourse has mainly focused
on procedural accountability.4 At times, some academics have chal-
lenged the technocratic definition, asking for ‘moral accountability’ as
something that ‘is closely related to its legitimate right to speak for
and on behalf of others.’ This suggests the idea that who wants ‘to
promote democracy and the rule of law, . . . must itself be democrati-
cally organized and soundly governed’ (Kaldor in Anheier and Hawkes,
2009: 206–7). Yet, so far there is little sign of discursive integration of
technocratic and public-administrative accountability with legitimacy
by political authority.
Legitimacy and accountability concerns differ for philanthropy at

home and abroad. In international grant-making, foundations step out-
side of domestic accountability relationships as they effectively roam
the foreign-policy arena of the US state and weaken their own standing,
if challenging their state over national interests. Such institutional–
environmental constraints in this domain emerge from additional
state policies (e.g., post-9/11 anti-terrorism regulation, affecting char-
itable financial flows) but also from foundations’ positioning vis-à-vis
the ‘hosting’ states, particularly where foundations attempt to real-
ize democratic ideals in authoritarian contexts by supporting NGOs,
thereby offering a medium of protection from the rulers (Pitner, 2000).
Technocratic accountability, however, may perhaps be less demanding,
because of foreign audiences and weaker regulatory regimes and under-
developed NGO watchdog mechanisms, which may heighten the role
of the patron. With even larger asymmetric power (funding is scarce
and non-competitive), the US foundation may have a higher poten-
tial to democratize CSOs, while it does not necessarily enhance its own
democratic credentials as an actor. Rather its role may be experienced as
ambivalent, with the perception of US ‘empire’ being further enhanced
through the deeds of US philanthropy, which effectively works as force
of secularization and science in developing countries.5 Cooperating with
faith-based philanthropy and re-interpreting giving traditions – e.g.,
through the recent trend of Arab diaspora philanthropy where Jewish
and Arab-Americans do the giving (Haklai, 2008) – opens up the oppor-
tunity for foundations to buffer legitimacy questions or, alternatively,
enter into debate (e.g., Ibrahim and Sherif, 2008).
US foundations enter critical territory where they are perceived as
agents of Empire and where anti-American sentiment is substantial.
The Middle East as an international grant-making region can illustrate
the legitimacy and accountability challenges that modern foundations
meet. As one of the most difficult regions for US foreign policy and
agents of socio-economic development, the Middle East puts inter-state
level conflicts (e.g., the Arab–Israeli conflict, the upsurge of radical Islam,
wars, and the presence of authoritarian rule in oil-rich monarchies)
right at the doorstep of philanthropic actors. The region presents chal-
lenges to both Western culture and law, in which the foundation as
actor is embedded, and values like democracy and human rights, which
philanthropy aims to promulgate. On top, foreign-policy tip-toeing by
the US government adds special constraints (Miller, 2009). The remain-
ing part of this chapter will analyze international grant-making by US
foundations in the Middle East.
Ann Vogel 71
Multi-level performance of transnational philanthropy: US

grant-making in the Middle East
Not all transnational agency of foundations is captured by interna-

tional grant-making, but there are practical reasons to start with funding
observations. A key reason is that philanthropy is a political and eco-
nomic actor that works at multiple levels. While being historically
transnational agents, foundations interweave relationships between the
domestic and the international terrain and between programs and activ-
ities. As I have demonstrated elsewhere, this is relevant to accounts of
US ‘empire’ (Vogel, 2006). On the empirical side, systematic data beyond
those permitting case studies on relationships between foundations and
global governance institutions are not available but, if they were, would
come with case-selection problems. International grant-making data
allow analysis of a better spread of observations, more appropriate for
world- and region-level analysis of transnational agency. Grant-making
operations are certainly a key foundation activity – but perhaps only the
output end of a long process of formulating policy, programs, consult-
ing, and advocating with a range of other actors. Grant-making patterns
are still the most powerful indicator, because the majority of the money
follows the program behind which lies a political agenda.
International grant-making
International grant-making totaled 5.4 billion dollars in 2007.6 This
figure includes grants directly given to overseas recipients and funding
for US-based programs. Compared to 2002, when international grant-
making was first recognized as a separate funding arena, it increased
by 50 per cent (inflation-adjusted) and grew over the past five years
at a higher rate than domestic giving, even when outliers like the Bill
and Melinda Gates Foundation are removed.7 International develop-
ment and relief ranked before environment, health, and international
affairs as funding areas. About 46 per cent of all international grants
in a 2006 sample were reported as consistent with the Millennium
Development Goals (Foundation Center and Council on Foundations,
2008).8 In the following, I focus on international grant-making in the
Middle East, examining grants targeting the region. These grants have
been listed from 1995 onward in electronic form by The Chronicle of
Philanthropy, the leading newspaper of the philanthropy world (http://
philanthropy.com/). The search includes grants for organizations in
countries that are commonly referred to as belonging to the Arab and
Muslim worlds as well as the Middle East. Only a few countries in the
region have never been grant beneficiaries (e.g., United Arab Emirates).
In Northern Africa, only Morocco, Egypt, and Sudan are included. I also
include the US, because US-based organizations can be grant benefi-
ciaries or manage funds that eventually reach NGOs in countries and
are a sign of internationalization of global giving by the US gift econ-
omy. Europe is included because, like the US, it is the seat of global
governance institutions.
The analysis of Chronicle grants show that US philanthropic founda-
tions awarded a fairly small number of 866 grants during the period
1995–2008, which combine into a pecuniary power of ca. 327 million
dollars.9 The average annual grant number is 62, with an annual average
of 24 million dollars. Overall, the total grant size grew from ca. 2 million
dollars in 1995 to ca. 47 million dollars in 2008. In 2007, grants peak
totaling ca. 79 million dollars. The Chronicle includes observations on
aspects of the grant-making and grant-receiving organizations, includ-
ing the program under which the grant-maker records a grant and the
purpose of the grant. With secondary information and coding it was
possible to establish that the 866 grants made between 1995 and 2008
come from only 94 foundations, of which 53 are independent.
The Middle East and transnational philanthropy

In order of number of grants awarded including years 1995 through
2008, slightly over a third goes to CSOs in the US, a fifth goes to Israel,
and roughly a tenth goes to Gaza/West Bank and Egypt respectively.
European organizations receive about 6 per cent of all grants and so does
Pakistan. Global governance institutions based in Europe and the US
receive five grants, respectively. This ranking changes when funded orga-
nizations are distinguished by final destination and intermediary status.
The number of grants to Israel increases to a third of the total grants;
Egypt and Gaza/West Bank get the second-largest share, receiving one
fifth each. Sudan, Pakistan, Lebanon, and Afghanistan receive between
7 and 4 per cent of all grants. Morocco, Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Yemen, and
Qatar receive only small numbers of grants.
When considering funding flows, one can learn two things about phi-
lanthropy for Middle East CSOs: First, some countries (specifically Iraq,
Yemen, Qatar, and Iran) do not receive US philanthropic monies directly
at all. Second, about 43 per cent of the grants awarded are made to orga-
nizations in the US and Europe. The US in particular takes a significant
role in the direction and diffusion of grants targeting the Middle East
region. Eleven grants were given to global governance institutions in
Ann Vogel 73
both the US and Europe and 55 to organizations in Europe (e.g., INGOs

and universities). These grants were overwhelmingly country-specific,
addressing mainly needs in Pakistan and Egypt.
When studying this pattern of international grant-making in dollars,
one can see a different distribution of grants. By 1995-CPI inflation-
adjusted dollars, 73 per cent of the grants go to US-based organizations
that are not global governance institutions.10 The second-biggest recip-
ients are CSOs in Israel (14 per cent) followed by Gaza/West Bank
(4 per cent), Egypt (3 per cent), European CSOs (2 per cent), Lebanon
and global governance institutions in Europe (1 per cent). Funding for
US-based global governance institutions is around 1 per cent of grant
total or 1 million dollars, a sum which increases to 3.5 million dollars
when Europe-based institutions are included. Global governance insti-
tutions funded under Middle East programs include UNESCO, UNDP,
WHO, UN, and U.N. Watch. In the following, we illustrate the purpose
of the grant-making to these institutions.
Funding for global governance institutions in the Middle East

U.N. Watch in Geneva received a grant from Richard and Rhoda
Goldman Fund ‘for fellowship program for four people to engage in
advocacy and diplomacy activities on behalf of Israel and Jewish peo-
ple’ (ca. 454,000 dollars in 2006). The UN and the UNDP (seat in New
York), received grants from the Ford Foundation, totaling 1 million
dollars during 1996–2006. The purposes included promotion of inde-
pendent media and peace initiative in Yemen, human rights training
for judiciary, police, and other public officials in Egypt, and research
and discussion activities on economic-development options for Egypt.
The Getty in California funded UNESCO toward a conservation plan for
Shalamar Gardens in Lahore, Pakistan (ca. 58,500 dollars in 2005). Three
grants to the WHO in Geneva, by the Edna McConnell Clark Founda-
tion, the Rotary Foundation of Rotary International, and the United
Nations Foundation, awarded mainly in 2003, totaled nearly 2 million
dollars. These grants address work with governments like Morocco’s on
tropical disease, Iraq’s on building a health care system, and Pakistan’s
efforts to fight polio.
While global governance funding with the Middle East region as tar-
get appears very small, overall US philanthropy for these institutions
is large. An additional search in the Chronicle of Philanthropy for grants
without region specification to UN organizations and WHO shows 480
grants for UN and 79 grants for the WHO between 1995 and 2008.
Looking at the last seven years of funding, 2001–9, for which data are
available, the magnitude of the foundations’ impact on global gover-
nance institutions becomes clearer. The biggest philanthropic gift to the
UN was made by the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation (66 million cur-
rent dollars) to the UN’s World Food Program in 2008. Another grant by
the Gates Foundation in 2007 awarded 30 million current dollars to the
UN Foundation for preservation of crop biodiversity. Of the 120 grants
to global governance institutions between 2001 and 2009, 29 were
above 1 million dollar grants. The smallest and most recent grant was
given by the Jolie-Pitt Foundation to the United Nations High Commis-
sioner for Refugees in Geneva ‘for its efforts to help families in Pakistan
displaced by conflict’ (Chronicle of Philanthropy). These million-plus dol-
lar grants total 198 million current dollars. This translates into 157
million in 1995-CPI based inflation-adjusted dollars, which can be com-
pared with 267 million dollars to Middle East programs between 2001
and 2009. Of the 267 million dollars, the grants to global governance
institutions with Middle East specification total 3.3 million dollars. This
shows that the arena of global governance is substantial, with money for
regions and country-specified CSO targets flowing through larger pro-
grams which are managed by global governance institutions. In terms of
grant numbers and dollars, Middle East philanthropy has not been a big
policy item for US foundations in the past decade and a half, and CSOs
by country vary greatly in the philanthropic aid they have received.
However, the focus on the narrowest triangle of the Arab–Israeli conflict
in international grant-making for Egypt, Israel, and the Palestinians is
dominating the pattern. Most grant money has been routed through US
recipients and intermediary organizations rather than being directed at
CSO actors in the countries of the Arab and Muslim worlds. Middle East
funding through global governance institutions has been small.
Further analysis of foundations shows that the Middle East inter-
national grant-making arena is dominated by 94 foundations which
award three quarters of all grants. Among them are ‘the big ones,’
such as Ford Foundation, John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foun-
dation, Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, and Carnegie Corporation
of New York. Ford Foundation produces nearly half of all Middle East
grants (i.e., 400 awards). The top nine (defined as foundations mak-
ing 15 or more grants) issue 42 per cent of all grants, but only two
foundations, Ford and the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, when
it comes to the size of the award. Transnational agency by founda-
tions, however, must also be examined in terms of the substantial goals
and agendas they fund, including the type of organizations they award
Ann Vogel 75
with grants. This dimension will be considered specifically under the

aspect of democratization of CSOs abroad.
Democratization efforts and global civil society-making in the Middle East

The list of grantees in our data shows a diverse set of recipients in
addition to UN programs and WHO: NGOs, INGOs, public charities,
independent foundations, community foundations, global advocacy
networks, religious charities, so-called ‘friends-of’ organizations, cul-
tural associations (both local and bilateral), universities, research think
tanks, research policy centers, community federations, welfare associ-
ations, and governments (mainly Egypt). These actors are empirical
referents in global civil society discourse. We use the project description
of the grant as proxy for the CSO agendas that foundations fund. The
grants could be summarized into five large funding areas.11 Support for
socio-economic development, including community development and
education, is the smallest funded category (6 million dollars), followed
by humanitarian aid and social welfare (32.2 million dollars), public
health and rights-based education (44.3 million dollars). The two largest
categories of funding are what we call civil-society promotion (72.6 mil-
lion dollars) and, top-ranked, the arena of arts, culture, and educational
philanthropy (171.8 million dollars), which includes 92 million dollars
for universities and other research institutions.
While the tradition of US foundation grant-making as educational
and scientific philanthropy is reflected in as small and as specific as
the Middle East international grant-making arena, it is important to
point out the political aspect of this education. Civil-society promo-
tion includes funding for causes, such as civil-society development,
empowerment of social groups and NGO activists, fostering of human
rights and social justice programs of certain CSOs which address specific
regional geopolitics, and NGO advocacy en large. The 345 grants (72.6
million dollars in total) in the funding area we identified as civil-society
promotion make up 40 per cent of all grants and one fifth of all grant
dollars during 1995–2008. About 55.4 million of these are awarded for
such purposes as NGO collaboration, advocacy, network development,
human rights, and legal aid. The remainder goes to peace and security
initiatives, conflict resolution, promotion of women’s and girls’ rights
and social positions, self-governance issues, as well as the development
of independent media and the promotion of the journalistic profession.
A large number of countries benefit from these grants.12
By content and CSO purpose, the civil-society promotion awards are
grants with political character, fostering NGO development along the
democracy and human rights agendas of the global-governance insti-

tutions and the West. The largest donor is the Ford Foundation, which
provides over half of all grant dollars in the area of civil-society promo-
tion in only 49 grants. Its largest two grants, with a combined size of
31 million dollars, went to the New Israel Fund in 2004 and 2007, a
leading NGO on democratic change and religious pluralism in Israel.
Geopolitics in the Middle East plays out in foundation philan-
thropy in the form of a split between big foundation philanthropy and
diaspora-based philanthropy, which is often guided by and based on
US foundation management. While Ford and John D. and Catherine
T. MacArthur Foundations fund what can essentially be considered the
empowerment of the Palestinians and the Arab-Israelis, the Richard and
Rhoda Goldman Fund is instrumental in the funding of the cause of
the Israeli state. Some of the grants are to fund news-reporting or docu-
mentation of conflicts and war crimes, and almost all of them implicitly
refer to projects providing ‘the correct view’ of history. Most grants are
made to CSOs in either Israel or Gaza/West Bank, without any routing
through US or European institutions. The Ford Foundation is the sec-
ond largest grant-maker for women’s empowerment, channeling funds
toward a diversity of organizations in mainly Egypt, Gaza, West Bank,
and Lebanon. It has a much broader agenda than Hadassah Foundation,
the largest grant-maker on women’s issues in Jewish diaspora philan-
thropy, which has made its 44 grants exclusively to Israeli CSOs, some
of them addressing Arab-Israeli women causes.
Apart from promotion of ‘civil society proper,’ we should also exam-
ine the funding for the arts sector, the higher education and research
sectors, religion, and the promotion and preservation of cultural and
ethnic identity (328 grants worth 172 million dollars in total). The
largest single area of funding is international grant-making for univer-
sities and research institutes, which reflects the key role foundations
play in science and education. The major grant-makers are the Ford
Foundation, John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation, Koret
Foundation, and Richard and Rhoda Goldman Fund, of which the first
two are ‘old hands’ in university funding. The largest grants – mainly
made by American-Jewish independent foundations – comprise nearly
77 million dollars for endowments by Israeli universities, but univer-
sities across the Middle East, most prominently in Beirut and Cairo,
receive the remaining 15 million dollars. Possibly distinct for Mid-
dle East philanthropy is the promotion of diaspora learning, which
comprises 68 million dollars for NGOs promoting Jewish identity and
ranks second after university funding (92.4 million dollars) and before
Ann Vogel 77
NGO-proliferation funding (55.4 million dollars), as discussed above.

The bulk of this money provides for free travel for Jewish-American
youth to Israel. The mega gifts, which comprise 94 per cent of the
total funding for this funding subcategory, were made during 2007–8
by three foundations to Birthright Israel, a Jewish organization in New
York. The arts projects supported in Gaza, West Bank, and Lebanon, go
mainly to NGOs and their artistic programs, which often have political
character.
Foundations as democratic transnational actors in the Middle East?

It is not possible to provide a full explanation of the funding patterns,
specifically as trends differ by country. This brief discussion does not
take into account foreign aid and other actors, such as European aid and
philanthropy (see Vogel, 2009b). Many of the grants can be made intel-
ligible as course of action in response to US foreign policy with respect
to oil, the Israeli state and the conflict over Palestine, the petro-dollar
monarchies and the emergence of anti-American and anti-Western ter-
rorism from the region. At the same time, global-governance action, e.g.,
the Millennium Project, is associated with international grant-making,
as foundations have pledged funding and programming support, but
this arena of foreign aid is not exclusive to US goals. Hence we cannot
provide an account of US philanthropy relative to other aid. However,
this brief empirical discussion permits us to point to the transnational
character of foundation agency at multiple levels. Funding global gov-
ernance institutions’ global and regional agendas as well as CSOs and
governments in specific regions, such as the Middle East, foundations
unleash their power by spreading funding to a large number of organiza-
tions of very different size and background – a plethora of organizations,
including governments at times, which is consistent with the fuzzier
definitions of global civil society (e.g., Keane, 2003). They are in part
responsible for the often perplexing diversity of global civil society.
The analysis of grant details, specifically of targeted projects, shows
that many of the grants are designed to encourage associational activity
pertaining to civil-society activity that is political in character (Schofer
and Longhofer, 2009). In that, US foundations follow the political spirit
which de Toqueville described so well for early US society (Alexander,
2006). By funding purposes, substantive issues of democracy and devel-
opment as outlined at the global level are pursued in the Middle East.
Grants targeting global and national civil societies, including funding
for human rights advocacy, are often distinguished by incidence of
multiple grants, indicating key targets by foundations and trusted rela-

tionships. The human rights and governance and civil society program
grants alone indicate that philanthropy targets NGOs multi-nationally,
helping to fund initiative in all governance arenas. Although the Ford
Foundation’s grants for the New Israel Fund dwarf the financial size of
the grants in the same category for the remaining ten countries, includ-
ing the larger Middle East region, there are still 167 grants that have
been dispersed widely through the Ford Foundation’s human rights and
governance and civil society programs.
Table 4.1 illustrates the Ford Foundation’s role in human rights pro-
motion in the Middle East, pointing to possibilities of NGO empower-
ment through philanthropy as political citizenship. It can be concluded
that a democracy agenda by US philanthropy is well in place for the
Middle East and routed through different CSO-funding channels such
as ‘arts and politics.’ Funding networks of artists is a visible major strat-
egy to establish political relations apart from cultural ones as well as
promote an NGO-based arts sector (vs. a government one). Some grants
are more subtle contributions to establishing cultures of oppressed social
groups as well as providing outlets for people in post-war or still pend-
ing conflict zones, thus helping to knit together civil societies torn apart
by war and terrorism.
Do such ‘democracy interventions’ give the philanthropy foundation
democratic legitimacy? Foundations generally lack input and through-
put legitimacy unless they are specifically defined as social-change
foundations, which set themselves apart from ‘the establishment’ in
the foundation world (Ostrander, 1999). But such organizations hardly
matter in the arena of global governance financing and foreign aid. It
is the private foundation that we must associate with the foreign pol-
icy agenda of the US state and the practiced influence of American
democratic values on global governance institutions. While these foun-
dations are publicly accountable to the government as the agents of
public trust, their accountability as political citizens in the civil sphere
is theoretically to the grantees. As pointed out earlier, this second type
of accountability is a historical debate within the US, addressing the
power of money in democratic society. As the number of foundations
and wealthy individuals has grown over the last century, foundations’
tax-exempt status has been the platform on which greater account-
ability toward the public benefit is demanded. But with respect to
participatory democracy, foundations’ hierarchical social relations have
only been altered in a number of smaller social-change and social-
movement foundations, where future grant beneficiaries are drawn into
Table 4.1 Illustrative grants by the Ford Foundation for human rights, a core democratic value
Year Grant amount Grantee Grant-making program Grantee’s project description
2004 429,453 Agenda-the Israeli Center for Human rights To help Israeli social-change
Strategic Communication nongovernmental organizations
(Israel) develop their communications
programs
2002 423,569 New Israel Fund (Washington, Human rights For the organizing and educational
D.C.) activities of Palestinian Israeli
nongovernmental groups, including
activities related to the United
Nations World Conference Against
Racism
2001 129,080 Arab Association for Human Human rights For efforts to promote human rights in
Rights (Israel) Israel and to achieve equality for
Palestinians who are Israeli citizens
2001 153,174 over 18 months to Hands Along Human rights To conduct discussions on democracy
the Nile Development Services and human rights in Egypt
(Akron, Ohio)
Note: Dollar amounts are inflation-adjusted (1995-CPI as base).
79
participation in decision-making to varying degrees. Most private foun-

dations follow a stewardship model akin to business leadership and
venture capitalism.
Instead of radical structural change at the level of organization, foun-
dations tend to band in self-regulatory networks to monitor ethical
behavior in line with non-profit management criteria. In their decision-
making processes they tend to consult with other professional elites,
increasingly so academics whom they have nurtured. To understand the
relative low profile of the accountability discourse for foundations, one
must consider, first, its aforementioned absorption into a technocratic
process of accountability surveillance and, second, the constitution of
the American polity. American citizens are much more comfortable with
the existence of benevolent elites than, say, Europeans, because eco-
nomic processes across economy and society follow the cultural logic of
equality of opportunity and emphasize the virtue of individualism. This
discourse is also reflected among those who embrace social-movement
philanthropy, as indicated by this reference by a prominent scholar to
the possible transformation of donor–grantee relationships into ‘more
democratic’ ones:
We argued that philanthropy at its best is a reciprocal relationship

where all parties give and get, where all bring something of value to a
mutually shared interest, and where there is a common commitment
to some cause or concern in the community.
(Ostrander, 1999)
Yet, such apparently reflective thought proves neither a challenge in

the form of a transformation of the socio-economic basis of philan-
thropy, nor a diversion from the associational-democratic principle on
which the national non-profit sector is based. Indeed, it remains within
the parameter of American pragmatism. It is therefore difficult to argue
that it is the international system that allows foundations as TNAs
to eschew accountability. Instead, under the umbrella of the US state
they move to realize American values and goals. In transnational space
and regional grant-making, foundations may still appear less problem-
atic than domestic elites, particularly where authoritarian regimes act
oppressively on democratizing forces.
In the Middle East and in global governance institutions, many
influential US foundations make significant contributions to the stim-
ulation of democracy and contribute to global-governance mechanisms
by funding at several levels of global civil society building of world
Ann Vogel 81
society. Civil-society promotion from the bottom-up contributes to

democratization of global governance, not least by enabling CSOs to
join platforms in arenas in which they advocate for certain constituen-
cies. At the same time, democratization of foreign CSOs helps to build
democratic actors that, at an aggregate level, have a propensity to be
non-adversarial to US society at minimum. International grant-making
builds actors with democratic skills, which can be used to enter a
discourse about democracy at national and global levels. More per-
tinent than the question of whether the foundations are democratic
transnational agents is the question of whether the portfolio of polit-
ical citizenship promoted through CSO funding allows for, and alerts
to, the diversity of democratic understandings and institutions as pos-
sible goals for actors who seek democratization in their own polities.
With associational CSO and even philanthropy now being taught, it
looks as if the balance tips toward the US version of democratic cul-
ture and forms of political engagement, recognizable in templates of
American civil society as well as some Anglo-Saxon types of capitalist
societies. Thus, it seems essential to examine what ‘schools of citizen-
ship’ have been taught through further research on how foundations
use their power in the arena pertaining to the discourse on democ-
racy, and how their influence measures up against local, grass-roots
version and other powerful, potential funders’ visions and institutional
legacies.
Conclusion
With respect to the organizational mobilization of CSOs, foundations

try to achieve high output legitimacy, as they enable others to real-
ize and promote democratic goals and strengthen democratic values.
Philanthropic foundations are likely to play a conservative role, as they
also work in foreign-policy environments that are politically challeng-
ing. Even a relatively volatile terrain such as Middle East civil society
shows focused grant-making toward actors of established worth, such
as universities and research institutes, as well as NGOs and INGOs that
promise to make vital contributions to social and political reform and
realize goals in a long-term fashion.
Contemporary foundations are powerful actors in domestic, foreign-
policy, and the global civil society arenas. The systemic dimensions of
their large action space, including an explanation of this emergence, is
yet to be explored, including foundations’ ability to achieve legitimacy
as elite actors in democratic and non-democratic contexts, while also
being widely accepted as major resource of CSOs in global civil society

which is contested and viewed with suspicion. Future analysis should
aim at providing rich qualitative information on democratic aspects of
foundation work, especially concerning their discourses of legitimacy
and accountability and their according actions. Empirical observations
point to the potential argument for high output legitimacy but, as
there is the possibility that foundations support CSOs only ritualisti-
cally or for their own benefit as elite actors in a contested arena, the
grant-making for democratization agendas needs to be further explored.
Explicit questions to answer include who is left out of the funding pool
and how foundations deal with disagreement and conflicting agendas.
For that, transparency – not formalized ritualistic accountability – will
be needed.
Notes
1. Commonly defined as the transfer of private wealth in form of gifts or grants,
‘philanthropy’ describes acts of generosity toward individuals and organiza-
tions pursuing a public or social cause. Foundations in the US are non-profit
organizations regulated under charitable law, 501(c) 3. There are currently
over 72,000 US grant-making foundations (for overview see Prewitt, 2006b).
2. Grants and gifts in the area of global health by the Gates Foundation make
up about half of all grants for international causes by US philanthropy (cf.
Foundation Center and Council on Foundations, 2008).
3. Initiatives like ‘Guidestar’ provide broader data on non-profit organizations,
for example, board membership, but information is hardly complete (http://
www2.guidestar.org/).
4. For a dazzling list of ‘accountability initiatives’ from all over the world, see
(Anheier and Hawkes, 2009).
5. Religion is the biggest charitable cause in the US, but among the big
foundations education and research funding predominates.
6. All dollars discussed in this chapter are US dollars.
7. The US foundation sector’s international grant-making field is highly
skewed. Within US philanthropy, a great number of independent, commu-
nity, and corporate foundations are active grant-makers. Among them a
handful of the large foundations substantially organize most of the grant
money.
8. http://www.unmillenniumproject.org/goals/index.htm
9. Specific information on how the data were prepared for analysis, including
use of secondary data, can be obtained from the author.
10. The 25 grants with missing values were excluded from this analysis.
11. Tables for the full analysis are available from the author.
12. The countries benefiting are the US, Israel, and Afghanistan, Egypt, Gaza/
West Bank, Iran, Iraq, Jordan, Lebanon, Pakistan, Qatar, Sudan, Turkey, and
Yemen.
Ann Vogel 83
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5
Good Morals or Good Business?
NGO Advocacy and the World
Bank’s 10th IDA
Christopher L. Pallas
Introduction
This chapter considers one form of civil society organization (CSO),

non-governmental organizations (NGOs), and their role in international
advocacy. In particular, this chapter examines whether NGO advocacy
improves citizen input into transnational policy-making. It also exam-
ines the implications of such improvement (or the lack thereof) on the
democratic legitimacy of NGOs themselves.
As Uhlin discusses in Chapter 2 of this volume, one of the major com-
ponents of democratic legitimacy is input legitimacy: the relationship
between the actor and its constituencies or people affected by its activ-
ities. Input legitimacy involves both representation and inclusivity. As
Dahl (1999: 21) has noted, most modern forms of state-based democracy
require some form of delegation, and the representation of diverse view-
points by means of designated intermediaries. This pattern holds true in
the international realm, wherein stakeholders are routinely represented
by governments, bureaucrats, and NGOs. Although some commenta-
tors have held out hope for a stateless anarchy or global deliberative
space, more empirically-rooted visions of global governance assume that
representative mechanisms will remain a necessary part of global gov-
ernance for the foreseeable future (e.g., cf. Dahl, 1999; Rischard, 2002;
Moravcsik, 2004; Held, 2006).
Inclusivity plays an equally important role, given that many of the
critiques of transnational policy-making center on its exclusion of
weaker stakeholders, particularly those from the global South. Prac-
tically speaking, NGOs themselves frequently claim to be acting to
improve inclusivity, bringing the voices of indigenous people, victims
85
86 NGO Advocacy and the World Bank
of a particular disease, or other socially or economically marginalized

populations into transnational decision-making (Spiro, 1995; Marschall,
1999; Grzybowski, 2000).
This chapter explores NGOs’ capacity for representation and inclusion
by examining the means by which NGOs engaged in advocacy choose
their policy positions and by examining the factors governing organi-
zational participation in advocacy activities. Thus the chapter assesses
both the representative and inclusive credentials of individual NGOs
and the aggregate impact of NGO advocacy on stakeholder input.
To make this analysis, the chapter examines the particularly divi-
sive NGO advocacy campaign associated with the 10th replenishment
of funds for the World Bank’s International Development Association
(IDA-10), which took place between 1992 and 1995 and resulted both in
significant cuts to World Bank funding and in the creation of the World
Bank’s Inspection Panel. Looking at the broad group of NGOs involved
in the campaign, this chapter asks: along what lines do divisions form
among NGOs regarding policy objectives? As will be shown, identifying
the fault lines in the NGO coalition provides an indicator of how NGOs
choose their policy positions. It is also a preliminary step in examin-
ing how and when organizations form alliances. Both questions provide
insight into the motivations and behavior of NGOs, thereby helping to
address questions of input.
The need for such research is highlighted by gaps in the literature.
Much of the writing on global civil society focuses on the behavior of
NGOs and the impact of advocacy campaigns or networks. Relatively
less attention has been paid to the means by which such campaigns
have formed. North–South alliances have received significant scrutiny
but North–North and South–South cooperation are under-researched,
at least in those instances in which they presage global activism. The
research on transnational civil society networks, moreover, tends to
begin by identifying a particularly prominent or successful campaign
and working backwards. Those members present at the finish of the
campaign are identified and their interests and actions are traced back
to their roots. This can lead to a kind of victor’s history in which seced-
ing partners, discarded ideas, and false starts can be overlooked if they
played no role in the final victory. The history of the victory becomes
conflated with a history of the network or the issue.
Similarly, in such analysis, data on the desires of affected populations
are often provided by NGOs themselves. Although copious research
exists connecting grassroots dissent with the formation of organiza-
tions and the execution of activist agendas at the national level, when
Christopher L. Pallas 87
studying global phenomena the researcher may find that tracing the
details of the activist agenda back to distant and unorganized stake-
holders is extremely challenging. Unsurprisingly, most studies of global
civil society treat NGOs as reasonable proxies for the grassroots interests
of the stakeholders they claim to represent. This trend is exemplified
by the incorporation of accounts written by NGO staff into academic
texts (e.g., Fox and Brown, 1998; Pincus and Winters, 2002; Walker
and Thompson, 2008). Practitioner accounts generally provide excel-
lent detail, firsthand information, and solid analysis. However, it is
difficult to imagine that they represent a comprehensive sampling
of perspectives.1 Combined with the tendency to sample only those
NGOs involved in a winning coalition, this practice can erroneously
create or magnify the impression that NGOs are reasonable representa-
tives of stakeholder interests and that they help include new voices in
transnational policy-making.
The IDA-10
This chapter challenges assumptions of NGO representivity and inclu-

siveness by analyzing the fractiousness in the IDA-10. The International
Development Association (IDA) is the World Bank’s soft loan arm, pro-
viding loans to the poorest of developing countries at concessional rates.
Because its loans are, by design, unprofitable, it requires a replenishment
of funds every three years. Since the 1970s, IDA donors have used these
replenishments to promote change at the World Bank by withholding
or threatening to withhold funds until the Bank makes the requested
change in policy or behavior.
In the late 1980s, NGOs also became involved in the IDA negotiations.
A variety of organizations sought to leverage their relationships with
donor governments to promote certain reforms at the World Bank. Early
successes by the environmental movement, which resulted in the adop-
tion of new environmental safeguards at the World Bank, emboldened
other groups to become involved in subsequent negotiations.
Between 1992 and 1995, over 40 CSOs from both the global North
and the global South became involved in the IDA’s 10th replenish-
ment, lobbying Bank staff or donor country governments in pursuit
of a variety of policy changes at the Bank; the vast majority of these
were professional NGOs. Although these groups worked harmoniously
on certain issues for most of 1992, after October of that year the broad
civil society coalition began to split into two general factions. From
1993 onwards, they would pursue distinct agendas. One side focused on
improving aid effectiveness, including promoting targeted interventions

to address specific elements of poverty (such as health or education)
and improving grassroots participation in development planning. This
faction supported the renewal or expansion of IDA funding, primar-
ily on the grounds that IDA provided an essential source of aid to
developing nations. The other faction ostensibly shared this value for
development effectiveness, but its members focused heavily on ways
Bank lending had contributed to environmental destruction or human
rights abuses. Their policy agendas focused on increasing the Bank’s
accountability, particularly through a stronger role for watchdog NGOs.
This faction sought to reduce or eliminate IDA funding, claiming that
the Bank’s lending did more harm than good and that the Bank’s power
and influence needed to be reduced pending wholesale reform. Both
sides claimed to represent the same group of stakeholders, the citi-
zens of the poor nations receiving IDA funds. Nonetheless, their policy
prescriptions vis-à-vis the IDA-10 funding were diametrically opposed.
In analyzing this division, I find that mission and funding worked
together to determine the policy positions espoused by different orga-
nizations and their decisions to participate in advocacy. Organizations
chose their policy positions largely on the basis of pre-existing missions
and at the expense of genuine responsiveness to the borrowing coun-
try populations most affected by Bank policy. Material interests drove
the decisions to participate in different aspects of the campaign; orga-
nizations participated when their participation was externally funded,
supported by paying members, or when they expected a return on
investment. The result was that neither individual organizations nor
NGOs as a group were particularly responsive to stakeholder interests.
To reach this conclusion, I examined the three explanations given by
informants2 for the divisions within the initial IDA-10 coalition: val-
ues and mission; North–South tensions; and funding. This chapter tests
each of these claims in turn and finds that a combination of mission
and funding provides the most convincing explanation of NGO behav-
ior during the IDA-10. It concludes with an analysis of the impacts of
these findings on NGOs’ claims to democratic legitimacy.
Values and mission
The idea of mission as a driver of the divisions between NGOs resonates

strongly with the statements of the interviewees for this study. The inter-
viewed NGO staff were quick to associate the policy positions of their
organizations with a particular set of values, such as the preservation of
life, social justice, or environmental conservation. These values, in turn,

were reflected in the organization’s chosen mission. Where the associa-
tion between policy, values, and mission was not explicit, it was often
implicit in the examples staff gave of either Bank malfeasance or posi-
tive Bank contributions to development or in the ways in which they
contrasted their organization with other organizations.
NGO leaders, along with outside observers including former staff from
the World Bank and US government, described two main groups of
NGOs, identified by their mission: environmental and development
NGOs. Some observers also delineated a third group of faith-based
organizations or justice advocates.
Environmental organizations
Environmental NGOs formed the core of the anti-replenishment fac-
tion. These organizations varied in their methodologies and priority
issues but, in general, their environmentalism emphasized conservation.
Their advocacy efforts focused heavily on preventing the depletion of
natural resources, particularly woodlands.3 Ending the construction of
coal-fired power plants and promoting improved end-use efficiency as
an alternative to new power generation were also core elements of their
agenda prior to the IDA-10. They attacked hydroelectric power as well:
Greenpeace, Friends of the Earth (FoE), Environmental Defense Fund
(EDF), and others worked with the International Rivers Network (IRN)4
in opposing the Yacyreta dam in Argentina in September 1992.5 EDF
and IRN also led international opposition to the Narmada dam project
in India.
Some of the NGOs involved were ideologically opposed to the idea of
development requiring industrialization and economic growth. In his
book Mortgaging the Earth published just after the IDA campaign, Bruce
Rich of EDF described economic development and industrialization as
misguided efforts antithetical to most of human experience. He con-
cluded that ‘primitive, non-Western modes of living are largely superior
to modern ones’ (Rich, 1994: pp. 203, 240–1). This combination of envi-
ronmental conservation and development skepticism was also shared by
Narmada Bachao Andolan, the sole Southern NGO to take an active part
in campaigning against the IDA-10 replenishment.
Their value for conservation and their opposition to large-scale devel-
opment made environmental organizations logical opponents of the
IDA-10 replenishment. The IDA was the World Bank’s primary means
of lending to the world’s poorest countries, many of which had large
rural populations or relatively large amounts of wilderness. On the

one hand, IDA had a track record of supporting some of the projects
most derided by environmentalists, including commercial forestry pro-
grams, power plant construction, and hydroelectric dams. On the other
hand, it was an instrument of the Bank’s overall agenda of development,
which focused on economic indicators and had become increasingly
neoliberal. Their suspicion of industrial development and their desire
to protect the rights of the rural poor enabled environmental actors to
ignore claims from Southern governments or NGOs about the impor-
tance of Bank funding. Environmentalists recognized the popularity
of IDA and initially were reluctant to oppose it outright. Incremental
reform seemed a better goal, until outrage over the Bank’s refusal to can-
cel funding for Sardar Sarovar, a particularly controversial Bank-funded
dam project, prompted a more radical course of action.
Not all environmental groups opposed the IDA-10 replenishment. For
instance, the influential Bank Information Center (BIC) stayed neu-
tral despite its explicit environmental bent. However, this was not
necessarily a contradiction of its environmental values so much as
their subordination to another purpose. Although BIC was environ-
mentally inclined, its primary mission was to act as a clearinghouse for
information for all NGOs. It worked more closely with anti-IDA environ-
mental NGOs than with other groups, but explicit partisanship might
have jeopardized its core mission. According to NGO and government
staffers, BIC did not itself engage in lobbying donor deputies or Bank
executive directors, although it did arrange meetings for others to do so.
The Natural Resources Defense Council (NRDC) also demonstrated a
similar pattern. The NRDC had worked closely with the Sierra Club on
previous reform efforts and during the IDA-10 it partnered with EDF,
National Wildlife Federation (NWF), and FoE. However, its core mis-
sion was the reform of the Bank’s energy policies and forestry lending;
broader issues of governance reform at the Bank were secondary priori-
ties. Because US Treasury proposals for Bank reform reflected the NRDC’s
priorities, the NRDC agreed to support the full IDA replenishment if a
reform agenda could be agreed.6
The World Wildlife Fund (WWF) deviated more significantly from the
line pursued by other environmental organizations. EDF, NWF, and FoE
coordinated many of their lobbying positions and often borrowed from
one another’s research, particularly when one organization had a supe-
rior network among some project-affected populations or better connec-
tions to potential overseas partners. The WWF, however, had conducted
its own independent research on issues of sustainability and structural
adjustment. It maintained its own ground-level contacts; it formulated

its positions independently. While WWF promoted sustainability it did
not support the anti-IDA agenda. To the contrary, David Reed, direc-
tor of WWF’s International Institutions Policy Program, wrote to the US
Treasury that WWF felt that it was necessary to ‘reinforce the contri-
bution of IDA resources.’7 WWF’s position stressed poverty alleviation,
public accountability, and changes in structural adjustment policy, with
relatively little space devoted to environmental conservation. Reed’s tes-
timony before Congress in May 1993 reinforced this position. He noted
that ‘it is crucial to ensure the uninterrupted flow of IDA resources
to alleviate poverty and to prevent further poverty-induced environ-
mental degradation.’8 Because it was a prominent environmental NGO
taking a moderate position on the Bank, WWF was, in the words of one
senior NGO staffer interviewed for this research, the ‘biggest problem’
obstructing a unified environmentalist position.
In short, the efforts of the majority of environmental actors to impede
or eliminate IDA funding show a great degree of consistency, and strong
logical links between values and the resulting policy positions. The core
organizations involved shared a strong emphasis on environmental con-
servation, which led them to oppose many development initiatives. This
trait was reinforced by a willingness to question the very concept of
development. At the same time, however, not all environmental organi-
zations developed anti-IDA policies. Some environmental organizations,
particularly the WWF, shared some of the dominant environmental
perspectives and values but instead chose neutral or pro-IDA positions.
Development organizations
Development NGOs involved in the 10th IDA ranged from service-
delivery organizations to advocacy groups. The most active were
Bread for the World, Church World Service, Lutheran World Relief,
Interaction, and Oxfam UK. These were joined by a host of other
organizations, including US and European-based actors like CARE and
NOVIB, and numerous parties from the developing world, such as the
Malaysian-based Third World Network and the Inter-Africa Group.
The two values which seemed to be shared by all development
organizations were a concern for poverty alleviation and a desire to
empower the poor. Unlike some environmental NGOs, development
organizations believed that poverty was real and objective, not just
socially constructed or relative. Some had been involved in efforts
to develop and popularize new metrics of poverty measurement. For
others, particularly the highly professionalized service-delivery NGOs,

identifying and addressing poverty was an essential part of their busi-
ness model. For the representatives of Southern organizations, poverty
was an inescapable reality of daily life in their home countries.
As a result, the overwhelming majority of development NGOs sup-
ported full replenishment of the IDA. In October 1992 the NGO
Working Group on the World Bank (NGOWG), an independent body
consisting largely of development-focused NGOs, expressed its ‘deep
and abiding concern about the inadequacy of funds on concessional
terms being made available by the North to tackle poverty in the South,’
a situation which would be exacerbated by ‘cuts in real terms under
the current round of negotiations for the IDA-10.’9 This sentiment was
echoed by those NGOs testifying before Congress. CARE, a venerable
and extremely large service-delivery NGO, described the IDA as ‘the
largest and most important single source of concessional development
capital for the poorest countries.’10 David Beckmann, president of Bread
for the World, even used the opportunity of an IDA hearing to call for a
general increase in US foreign aid.11
In general, support for the 10th IDA was more consistent among
development NGOs than opposition was among environmentalists.
There were several development organizations that took an initial posi-
tion calling for Bank reform, but they never followed up with a clear
position for or against the IDA replenishment. However, given the rela-
tively limited advocacy capacities of most development organizations in
the early 1990s, such silence most likely resulted from lack of resources,
such as staff time or travel funds. Only one development NGO, the
Ireland-based Catholic group Trocaire, took a more aggressively criti-
cal stance. It issued several strong anti-Bank statements in July 1992.
As with other Irish NGOs, however, there is no evidence that Trocaire
was involved later, in 1993, when cancellation of the IDA was being
discussed more explicitly.
Faith-based organizations
To limit a values-based typology of the NGOs involved in the 10th
IDA solely to environment and development would make for a rather
blunt parsing. It would ignore the role of faith-based organizations,
which had quite distinct values. Numerous faith-based organizations
were involved in the IDA-10 process. The Columbian Missionaries, the
Irish Missionary Union, and the Church of Ireland Bishops’ Appeal all
lobbied representatives of donor governments. The Aga Khan Founda-
tion and the US-based Islamic African Relief Agency signed the NGOWG
letter. Bread for the World and Church World Services, already described
as development NGOs above, also represented faith perspectives.
In general, the driving principles of these groups appear to have
been social justice, specifically a concern for the well-being of disad-
vantaged and marginalized people. A statement from the US Catholic
Conference of Bishops, for instance, denounced structural adjustment
on the basis that ‘it is the poorest of the poor who suffer most’ from its
effects.12
Such concerns, however, do not seem to have manifested themselves
in a consistent set of policy positions or consistent participation in the
policy process. One informant asserted that faith-based groups involved
in the IDA aligned themselves with whichever of the two major camps,
environment or development, was more persuasive. Presumably, this
meant whichever side made a better case for the social justice benefits of
its agenda. While environmentalists were successful in making this case
early in 1992, the potential cancellation of the IDA funding changed the
stakes of the game, pushing some faith-based groups to realign them-
selves with development activists. The only faith-based groups to hold
consistent positions on the Bank and on IDA were those, like Bread
for the World and Church World Service, with a standing interest in
development.
A values-based division?
A strong correlation exists between the ideological categories presented
here and the related organizations’ positions on the 10th IDA replen-
ishment, at least with regards to the environmental and development
categories. The idea that an organization’s policy positions should be
driven by values and mission was also the perspective preferred by
most of the informants for this research, particularly for explaining
their own actions. Moreover, the concept has a certain intuitive merit:
environmental organizations should, it would seem, care more about
the environment, and development organizations should prioritize
development.
Closer examination, however, reveals the pitfalls in this argument.
Neither general values nor specific mission are necessarily good pre-
dictors of an organization’s decision to participate or withdraw from
advocacy, even if it can predict the organization’s policy preferences.
It does not explain why so many non-US organizations ceased to par-
ticipate later in the policy process. Moreover, it does not fully account
for WWF’s deviation from the environmental line. In short, values and
mission do not explain all of the observed NGO behavior.
To the extent that values and mission do drive policy formation,

the findings cast doubt on organizations’ representivity. The missions
and interests discussed here, for most organizations, predated the IDA-
10. These pre-existing agendas and related views allowed groups to
reinterpret or filter local demands, or paternalistically determine local
populations’ ‘best interests’ while ignoring their stated desires. Despite
a stated value for human well-being, development and environmen-
tal groups chose quite divergent positions on the most salient issue
of the 10th replenishment, funding for the IDA itself. It seems likely
that groups in each category viewed human well-being through a lens
formed by their particular mission, with environmentalists believing
that well-being could be best met through conservation and devel-
opment groups believing it would be best met through Western-style
development. It is difficult to know which understanding, if either,
reflected the desires of the people affected by the policy.
North versus South

In 1992, the Forum of African Voluntary Development Organizations
(FAVDO) prefaced a pro-IDA statement by declaring that Southern
NGOs had ‘reached different conclusions from their Northern coun-
terparts.’13 Informants from certain US-based NGOs suggested that
Southern NGOs held pro-IDA positions because of pressure from their
governments. Statements such as these imply a North–South division
between NGOs.
Assumptions of North–South differences are also found in the polit-
ical science literature. For instance, the globality of global civil society
is often defined by the mutual involvement of Northern and Southern
NGOs (cf. Korten, 1998; Florini and Simmons, 2000). Keck and Sikkink’s
(1998) boomerang theory, in which some civil society actors convince
their governments to apply pressure to foreign states obstructing the
efforts of other civil society organizations, implies that civil society will
use the governments of strong states to change the behavior of weak
ones. Their examples consistently feature interventions by Northern
NGOs in Southern issues.
In order to evaluate any North–South division in the IDA-10, how-
ever, it is necessary to define the terms ‘North’ and ‘South.’ In the case of
the World Bank, ‘Northern nations’ refers to IDA donors, while ‘South-
ern nations’ refers to IDA borrowers. This is the definition used in this
research, and it seems congruent with the intentions of the informants
cited here.
A North–South divide on environmental issues was explicit at the

government level in the early 1990s, with developing country govern-
ments strongly opposing nascent efforts on the part of bilateral donors
to link development aid to environmental reform.14 However, this divi-
sion was not clearly mirrored among NGOs. Although Northern NGOs
were key players in the global environmental movement, NGOs based
in the global South were also involved.
Both Northern and Southern actors attracted media attention for
their environmental stances during the period of the IDA-10 negotia-
tions. Greenpeace, prior to the Rio Earth Summit in June 1992, publicly
exhorted developing nation governments to embrace environmental
preservation.15 FoE joined Greenpeace in using the summit to attract
attention to pressing environmental issues.16 In June 1992, EDF and
IRN lobbied against a hydroelectric project in Malawi, resulting in a
‘no’ vote on the project by the US representative on the World Bank’s
board.17
However, Southern NGOs were also involved in environmental claims
at Rio. The Third World Network and the Forum of Brazilian NGOs
partnered with Greenpeace and FoE in working to attract media atten-
tion to environmental concerns.18 In 1993, the India-based Narmada
Bachao Andolan issued strong attacks on the environmental impacts of
the Bank’s Sardar Sarovar project.
In discussions of development, the field was even more mixed. Devel-
opment was not exclusively a Southern issue. A statement issued in
October 1992 by the NGOWG on the World Bank, closely echoed
development versus environment sentiments previous articulated by
Southern government representatives. However, it was signed by
18 NGOs based in donor nations as well as 14 from developing nations.
Some Northern NGOs also displayed a mix of environmental and devel-
opment priorities during the 1993 US Congressional hearings on the
World Bank and 10th IDA. American NGOs like FoE, EDF, and the
NWF pushed for a reduction in the World Bank’s power and funding,
and stressed the Bank’s negative environmental and social impacts. Yet
other US-based organizations like Interaction, Church World Service,
and CARE joined the Africa-based FAVDO in stressing the importance
of the IDA for the development of poor countries and the welfare of
their citizens.19
In short, there is no clear evidence of division between NGOs along
North–South lines on the issue of the environment versus development.
Although the environment was seen as a Northern issue in intergovern-
mental debates, some non-governmental actors from the global South
supported environmental positions. At the same time, many NGOs from

the global North prioritized development over the environment. No
other issue shows a strong North–South divide at either the govern-
ment or NGO level. This lack of clear North–South division effectively
negates the idea of geography as a source of division among NGOs or a
consistent driver of NGO policy-making during the 10th IDA.
Funding
A final possible parsing offered by IDA-10 participants was material

interests. Some informants suggested that NGOs selected their policy
positions in accordance with their financial incentives. One indicated
that the seeming divide between environmental and development orga-
nizations was, in fact, predominantly a divide between advocacy groups
and service-delivery organizations. The former, funded primarily by
foundations or member donations, were able to take more radical
reformist positions than the latter, which relied on flows of aid fund-
ing. This opinion was echoed by staff at certain environmental NGOs,
who accused development organizations of being motivated by financial
gain. The data, however, indicates a more nuanced reality. It suggests
that nearly all of the organizations involved in the IDA, including both
service-delivery and advocacy NGOs, had financial incentives to advo-
cate the policy positions they promoted. In some cases, particularly
among advocacy groups funded by foundations, donors made explicit
indications of the policy positions they wished their funds to support,
or facilitated the participation of NGOs whose stated aims aligned with
those of the foundation. In other cases, such as groups receiving fund-
ing from the government or members, there was less direct pressure to
assume an explicit position. Nonetheless, the organizations had a strong
interest in preserving the possibility for future funding or the loyalty of
current donors. It is unclear that funding drove the policy preferences of
most actors, but it may have been instrumental in defining the agendas
of some. Moreover, it appears to have been a key driver of participation,
thus determining the matrix of organizations lobbying on the IDA.
Correlating funding and policy

If funding and advocacy are correlated, one would expect that NGOs
involved in the IDA would fall into three general categories: NGOs
dependent on funding from governments or international organiza-
tions (IOs), who back government or IO positions or advocate greater
IDA funding; foundation-funded organizations which back the aims
or agenda of the foundation(s) funding them; and member-supported

organizations whose positions reflect the desires of the majority of
their members. Such a categorization matches almost perfectly with
the divisions observed in IDA-10 lobbying. Organizations like Oxfam,
CARE, and the WWF, which received some or all of their funding from
bilateral and multilateral aid, gave unanimous support to the IDA-10.
Organizations like the EDF, FoE, NWF, and the international advo-
cacy arm of the Sierra Club had all received foundation funding for
international environmental advocacy and the reform of multilateral
development banks; all organizations with such funding opposed the
IDA. Member-funded organizations divided according to the interests
of their members: Greenpeace, Rainforest Action Network, and NWF
(which received more funding from members than foundations) were
supported primarily by American environmentalists and took anti-IDA
pro-environmental positions. Narmada Bachao Andolan was funded by
dam opponents in India and opposed the IDA, which was helping fund
the dam. Bread for the World, along with the US Conference of Catholic
Bishops and other faith groups, were supported by members interested
in social justice and supported IDA funding as a means of helping the
poor.
Claims of causation
The idea of a causal relationship between organizational funding
and position-taking was elaborated upon by several informants. One
environmental leader used funding to explain the divisions among
environmentalists, noting that ‘the big project-oriented NGOs like
World Wildlife Fund, Nature Conservancy International, and Conser-
vation International . . . looked to the Bank as a funder for their projects
and that kind of thing. So they were never particularly strong advocates
[for reform].’ Another noted a perennial tension between his organi-
zation and groups focused on ensuring that sufficient money is given
for development. Organizations who received funding from aid were
thought to oppose the cuts even if they did not receive direct funding
from the World Bank, because they believed IDA cuts could precipitate
a more general decline in US aid levels. According to one informant:
These groups were afraid to criticize the World Bank, even though
they might have lots of criticisms . . . they were reluctant to come out
publicly and say critical things about the World Bank, or be too crit-
ical because they were afraid that would play into the hands of the
right wing, the Reaganites, and so on who didn’t like foreign aid.
Although some of these claims came in the form of critiques from anti-
IDA activists, they were validated by aid organizations and their allies.
InterAction represented over 150 development and relief NGOs dur-
ing the IDA-10. It sat on the NGOWG and had worked with World
Bank staff in 1990 on the reform of the Bank’s participation policies.
Its representatives were also invited to meet with US legislators and to
testify in Congressional hearings. According to a source involved with
the organization, the most commonly held concern among its mem-
bers during the IDA-10 time period was maintaining financing for their
activities.
Moreover, the anti-IDA activists who speculated on the financial moti-
vations of service-delivery organizations were themselves subject to
financial pressures. One informant stated that environmental activists,
including the core groups opposing the IDA, are continually ‘competing
for money, funding, and publicity.’ Such conflicts never became public,
but they could escalate to the point where activists sought to co-opt
the support of their competitors’ donors and draw away their funding.
Another NGO member noted that foundation donors rewarded vigor-
ous advocacy. One anti-IDA leader, the informant joked, seemed to be
‘paid by the column-inch’ for the press coverage he generated.
In the case of member-funded organizations, the advocacy agenda was
decided or affirmed by members. NBA was supported by Indian donors,
although the organization itself admits that these were not necessarily
the project-affected people in the Narmada valley it claimed to repre-
sent.20 NWF and Bread for the World had annual meetings at which
members could vote, as well as regular correspondence with members.
Greenpeace did not have such democratic agenda-setting processes, but
its very public position-taking created a clear brand that members chose
to support. Faith-based organizations were also member-supported,
either directly by congregants or individual donors or indirectly via a
denomination. They had clear brand identity of their own: an adher-
ence to faith tenets which set them apart (in either principle or practice)
from secular organizations (cf. Pallas, 2005).
The Charles Stewart Mott Foundation

The Charles Stewart Mott Foundation had a particularly strong effect
on the IDA-10. Mott provided funds to the EDF, the NWF, NRDC,
the Sierra Club, and FoE, as well as to the Bank Information Center,
which arranged meetings and disseminated information on the oth-
ers’ behalf. Typically advocacy organizations themselves initiate contact
with potential funders, seeking grants to support the advocacy organi-

zations’ existing agendas. In this case, however, Mott sought out these
environmental actors as part of a strategic agenda developed by the
foundation in the mid-1980s to promote global environmental reform.
Thus Mott’s funding was reflective of the foundation’s strategy rather
than a serendipitous clustering of grant requests. As the description
of one of Mott’s grants to FoE notes, it is ‘one of a cluster of grants
aimed at improving multilateral development bank lending policies
and practices so that they are environmentally sustainable and socially
equitable.’21
Mott funds also helped develop the support of non-US actors for
MDB reform. Three grants to FoE, given in 1991 and 1992, specify
that the money is to be used to ‘strengthen multilateral development
bank campaign activities in Japan’ and for ‘outreach to Third World
groups.’22 EDF was likewise given funds to ‘empower Third World
nongovernmental organizations to monitor, influence and change inter-
nationally financed development projects.’23 The NWF, which received
strong support from members, also passed some of its Mott funding on
to overseas partners. Relatively few groups outside of the US environ-
mental movement opposed the IDA or took strong reformist positions;
the implication is that the activities of some of those who did was
facilitated, cultivated, or amplified by Mott funding.
A principal–agent relationship?
There is also evidence of a principal–agent relationship between Mott
and its grant recipients. There is no doubt that Mott funding supported
a substantial portion of the anti-IDA activism during the 10th IDA or
that Mott was pursuing its own strategic agenda. The question of a
principal–agent relationship, however, examines the extent to which
Mott funding influenced the behavior of the groups involved.
Several of the groups involved insist that Mott had little control
over their actions: ‘they had no influence whatever on us [the Mott-
funded environmentalists],’ asserted one senior staffer, because ‘the
people working on these issues [were] strong-willed and professional.’
Nonetheless, there are several indications that Mott had a principal–
agent relationship with its aid recipients, leading them into behaviors
they would not have undertaken on their own in order to facilitate the
outcomes Mott favored. These include coordinated policy-setting on the
part of grant recipients and the initiation of new activities in response
to Mott requests.
Coordinating policy
All of the NGO informants interviewed for this research were asked
about their relationships with other non-governmental actors and the
extent to which they coordinated policy positions or lobbying activities
with like-minded organizations. Only the core group of environmental
activists, EDF, NWF, NRDC, FoE, and the Sierra Club, reported regular
meetings to coordinate policy and tactics. The groups shared informa-
tion among themselves and would allow the members best informed
about a particular policy or project to influence the position of the
coalition as a whole. Thus the impact of any given organization in this
coalition could be multiplied five-fold. The groups also used coordina-
tion to magnify their political footprint. For instance, when Bruce Rich
of EDF spoke before the Senate hearing on the IDA-10 replenishment
in June 1993, he spoke on behalf of the Sierra Club and NWF as well.
He began his testimony by reminding the senators present that these
three organizations ‘have more than 5.7 million members and support-
ers nationwide.’24 In an earlier hearing he testified on behalf of EDF and
the Sierra Club, while noting that his testimony was ‘congruent’ with
the positions of NWF and FoE.25
This coordination was a direct result of Mott influence. Maureen
Smyth, who oversaw the Mott grants, strongly suggested that the Mott-
funded NGOs coordinate their activities. When Mott began working
with the NGOs, each group had a niche area but their agendas over-
lapped. Smyth believed that groups could do more if they coordinated.
One staffer who worked on the NRDC effort described the organization’s
partnership with the other four major IDA opponents, saying that ‘some
of that [partnership] was by design,’ a result of Mott’s influence. At least
one informant indicated that his organization would not have partici-
pated in such meetings without Mott’s influence. Tellingly, such regular
coordination has largely ended since Mott funding ceased.
Initiating activities
As noted, Mott sought out the five NGOs it funded for World Bank
work. According to a staffer at one recipient NGO, Mott ‘liked this inter-
national financial institution’s work’ and gave money specifically for
such work, rather than because of any broader relationship with the
organization. The foundation’s funding led its grant recipients to initi-
ate activities they would not otherwise have undertaken. ‘Mott was the
major contributor,’ according to another member of staff, ‘if it hadn’t
been for Mott, the whole community wouldn’t have been able to do
what it did.’
Mott’s influence was most clearly demonstrated in the creation of

50 Years Is Enough, a loosely organized campaign for the intensive
reform or elimination of the World Bank and IMF, inspired by the two
institutions’ 50th birthdays in 1992. The campaign began organizing
in 1993 and announced a platform in 1994. IRN, Development GAP,
FoE, EDF, and Oxfam America were key participants. Although the cam-
paign, which still exists, describes itself as the spontaneous creation of
energized activists,26 it actually resulted from pressure from the Charles
Stewart Mott Foundation. In 1992 the Development GAP coordinated
a forum where a variety of NGOs discussed their agendas with poten-
tial foundation funders. That forum highlighted the potential synergy
between environmental groups and others which, like DGAP, had some
sort of economic justice agenda. Mott approached the Development
GAP and asked that a new, coordinated campaign be developed, and
DGAP agreed. In June 1993, Mott provided DGAP with 130,000 dol-
lars for work on ‘global economic justice.’ In early 1994 it provided IRN,
which was already receiving Mott funding for ‘General Purposes,’ 90,000
dollars for the ‘Media Outreach Project of the “50 Years” Campaign.’27
The campaign became a major source of negative publicity for the Bank
over the rest of the decade, influencing policy-makers’ opinions of the
World Bank in the key 1992–5 period, during which a series of US cuts
to its IDA-10 contribution took place (cf. Mallaby, 2004).
Funding, policy, and participation

The data indicate a clear link between funding and activism. Organi-
zations pursued the positions which they had a material incentive to
pursue, either choosing their positions or deciding their participation on
the basis of financial interests. These findings confirm and elaborate on
work by Cooley and Ron (2002). They report that the need to fund the
organization, particularly to pay staff and overhead costs, along with the
need to compete with other organizations for scarce funding resources,
causes most NGOs to prioritize economic concerns over mission, values,
or other aspects of identity (cf. Price, 2003: pp. 582–3).
The accusations of some actors notwithstanding, however, it seems
unlikely that the majority of NGOs involved in the IDA-10 chose their
policies on a purely mercenary basis. Many organizations chose posi-
tions that supported their financial goals, but causality is difficult to
prove. Organizations’ pre-existing missions seem to have had a stronger
impact on their policy preferences.
The pattern of participation indicates that the significance of fund-
ing (as opposed to mission) increases as the costs of activism increase.
Numerous organizations with an interest in IDA-10 related issues, such

as poverty alleviation or debt relief, were involved in low-cost ways
early in the IDA process. Many smaller faith-based organizations and
developing world NGOs signed the NGOWG letter, or other similar posi-
tion statements. However, organizations engaged in sustained advocacy
only when their activities were likely to be expected by paying mem-
bers, when they believed that the policies being negotiated would affect
their future revenue, or when outside funding subsidized the costs of
activism.
The influence of the Charles Stewart Mott Foundation further demon-
strates the impact of funding on participation. Mott funded the core
group of American NGOs opposed to the IDA, and its funding may have
helped them cultivate the support of overseas partners. Mott chose its
partners for their pre-existing agendas, but it induced them to modify
their existing behavior. In response to Mott influence, Mott clients ini-
tiated new advocacy activities and coordinated their policy positions in
ways that increased their political impact.
In short, during the 10th IDA time period, funding appears to have
had an important influence on advocacy activity. According to partic-
ipants in the process itself, funding interests may explain the seeming
contradiction between the mission of certain NGOs, such as the WWF,
and the positions they espoused. Similarly, it helps explain the choices
organizations made to participate in or withdraw from different advo-
cacy activities. The role of Mott is particularly significant because it
implies that the majority of NGOs opposing the 10th IDA were function-
ing as the clients or agents of a single entity, rather than representing
the interests of a diverse group of stakeholders. All of these findings have
implications for the legitimacy of NGOs as stakeholder representatives.
The links between mission and position, analyzed earlier in this chapter,
indicate that individual NGOs may not be very responsive to the pop-
ulations that their work impacts. The findings on funding indicate the
composition of any given campaign may reflect the variety of the par-
ticipants’ financial incentives, rather than a cross-section of stakeholder
interests.
NGOs and stakeholder input
One of the most striking elements of NGO participation in the 10th

IDA is the sharp divisions that manifested themselves over the ques-
tion of continued funding for the IDA. Participants in the process
noted this division themselves and explained it as a function of differ-

ences between Northern and Southern interests, competition between
environmental, development, and faith-based values, or the result of
organizations’ concerns with funding. However, only divisions over val-
ues or mission and funding sources correlate with the divides observed
in this case.
With regard to values and mission, it may be true that organizations
seek to preserve consistency vis-à-vis their values and mission. How-
ever, it is important to note that this may also be a form of branding: a
public identity shaped for the market of potential funders. The data indi-
cate that the funding environment is highly competitive for all types of
NGOs, whether they are seeking to win the attention of foundations, the
contracts of aid providers, or the loyalty of members. In such an envi-
ronment, defining and maintaining a clear mission is a necessary part
of establishing a value proposition for potential donors. Telling donors
the benefits of their donation implicitly requires telling them what they
are gaining with one particular organization that cannot be gained
elsewhere. This is not to say that NGO staff develop or evolve their
organization’s mission with money in mind. Instead it seems probable
that the perpetual process of applying for grants, bidding for contracts,
and advertising for members has an inescapable impact on NGOs, with
mission being honed and shaped by the need to compete. Thus staff
could genuinely seek only that funding reflective of their organization’s
present mission, yet their actions could still be explained and predicted
in financial terms, because the public mission which they are using as
their compass has itself been adjusted to reflect the donor-influenced
characteristics of the funding market.
Even if organizations remain consistent in their values and mission,
this by no means guarantees their responsiveness to the populations
affected by their activism. To the contrary, an organization’s focus on a
particular mission may lead it to reinterpret the stated desires of a peo-
ple impacted by a given policy, or even determine such peoples’ ‘needs’
without reference to their stated desires. Although most organizations
claim to be acting for the good of certain stakeholders, it may not be a
good determined by those stakeholders themselves.
Furthermore, if NGO participation in a given campaign is facilitated
by donor funding, money is still the proximate cause of NGO action.
It determines which organizations are active in any given campaign.
Thus, rather than representing a cross-section of stakeholder inter-
ests, it will represent a sampling of financial incentives. The role of
third-party donors in structuring those incentives may be particularly
significant, leading to international campaigns that primarily reflect

wealthy populations or funding bodies. In the case of the 10th IDA,
policy-makers were given the impression that five prominent NGOs
had each chosen to engage on the issues surrounding the World Bank
replenishment. Arguably, however, EDF, NWF, the Sierra Club, FoE, and
the NRDC represented not a consensus of five independent actors but
rather the agenda of a single entity, the Charles Stewart Mott Founda-
tion, which had carefully selected its agents and incentivized them to
work collaboratively.
In short, the data raise a series of questions about the capacity
of nongovernmental organizations to act on behalf of anyone other
than a narrow group of funders or members, thus casting doubt on
their ability to represent marginalized populations and include them
in transnational policy-making. Transnational advocacy campaigns are
particularly suspect, given that the NGOs involved are likely to be driven
by a pre-existing mission and third-party funding, rather than grassroots
voices.
The democratic credentials of NGOs
In Chapter 2 of this volume, Uhlin describes democratic legitimacy

as having three parts: input, throughput, and output. This chapter
has focused primarily on NGOs’ capacity to represent marginalized
populations and include them in transnational policy-making. Both
representivity and inclusivity are elements of democratic input; how-
ever, the findings in this chapter also have implications for NGOs’
throughput legitimacy.
As noted in Erman and Uhlin’s introduction to this volume, input
legitimacy is concerned with the relationship between the actor and
its constituencies. What this chapter shows is that identifying such
constituencies is not always easy. Non-governmental actors engaged in
advocacy generally have a specified, nominal constituency. These are the
persons on whose behalf they claim to work. At the same time, the
data in this chapter indicate that NGOs also have an authoritative con-
stituency. These are the persons to whom the organization is directly
reliant for its continued functioning or existence, such as members, fun-
ders, and staff. The two groups overlap, but the authoritative group is
often smaller than the nominal one.
Academics and practitioners imply (and sometimes explicitly state)
that the nominal constituency is authoritative, that is, that interna-
tional advocacy is initiated by the grassroots and guided by clear signals
from the interested stakeholders. The reality can be quite different. As

seen, NGO advocacy can exist primarily in response to organizations’
pre-existing missions as determined by staff and, in some organiza-
tions, paying or voting members. Decisions to undertake advocacy
are also constrained (and occasionally prompted) by funding consid-
erations, giving funders a particular type of power. The disparity in
influence between the nominal and authoritative constituencies chal-
lenges the inclusivity of NGO-driven advocacy. When NGOs grant
disproportionate power to their authoritative constituency in deter-
mining organizational agendas, they hinder the development of an
open and participatory decision-making process involving all of their
nominal members.
These power dynamics also undermine NGOs’ representivity. As
described in this chapter, individual organizations pursuing pre-
determined goals are likely to ignore or reinterpret local needs. Col-
lectively, NGO activism on an issue will reflect the financial incentives
linked to the campaign. Organizations with financial incentives for their
involvement will participate, while those hampered by limited resources
may drop out. In short, NGOs cannot be shown to represent those per-
sons they claim to represent. The lack of representivity and inclusivity
directly impugns NGOs’ input legitimacy.
This chapter’s findings also challenge NGOs’ throughput legit-
imacy, particularly when looking at NGOs as a group. Viewed
collectively, nongovernmental organizations may lack any meaning-
ful inter-organizational deliberation. If organizations must continually
pursue or maintain funding in order to operate, organizations may
be unable to engage in significant compromise or collective decision-
making. For most environmental advocacy actors involved in the 10th
IDA, meaningful compromise with development NGOs would have
resulted in a violation of the fundamental interests of their donors (in
the case of Mott-funded NGOs) or their members (in the case of NWF or
Narmada Bachao Andolan). By the same token, for development service-
delivery NGOs, advocating for cuts in World Bank funding had the
potential to result in the loss of funding for their activities. Informants
for this research were well aware of these tensions, with several indicat-
ing that they chose not to engage opposing NGOs in dialogue because
they perceived the financial interests of their opponents to result in rigid
policy positions. Such dynamics clearly inhibit deliberation.
Of course, this pattern also indicates that there may be significant
accountability between an organization and its funders or, in some
cases, its members. Accountability can enhance throughput legitimacy.
However, as implied above, most organizations are only accountable to

a portion of their nominal constituency.
Uhlin (this volume, Chapter 2) leaves the question open as to
whether all forms of legitimacy are necessary for all organizations in
all contexts. However, the relative lack of input legitimacy for many
NGOs engaged in advocacy seems to cast serious doubt on the demo-
cratic credibility of non-governmental organizations and the democratic
legitimacy of NGO-driven advocacy, given that their anticipated role
in transnational policy-making is to represent and include otherwise
marginalized stakeholders. The problems of throughput legitimacy com-
pound this problem, given that some of the normative theory pro-
moting NGO involvement in global governance depicts civil society
(of which NGOs form a significant part) as the key to deliberative
democracy in transnational decision-making.
Further research
These conclusions are drawn from a single case study. Nonetheless, the
IDA-10 is notable for the large number of NGOs involved and the signifi-
cant policy changes at the World Bank that resulted from their advocacy.
The anti-Bank faction eventually succeeded in reducing the IDA fund-
ing, and the Bank responded with a number of policy capitulations
which significantly increased NGOs’ influence in Bank policy-making.
Most of the major NGOs involved in the IDA lobbying are still active in
international policy-making.
The idea that NGOs can democratize international policy-making is
not without merit. There exists abundant evidence that civil society
in general, and NGOs in particular, can have a significant impact on
international policy-making. When decisions are made in technocratic
international organizations or via diffuse mechanisms beyond the con-
trol of any one state, transnational advocacy networks may form the
best hope of reasserting stakeholder control over the decision-making
process. However, for NGOs to accomplish this end their behavior must
be critically examined by academics and policymakers alike. Unless
NGOs are subject to the same scrutiny to which they subject other
organizations, they may easily become a vehicle for enhancing influ-
ence of small groups of elites, such as their funders, staff, or core
members.
This chapter indicates some of the places where that scrutiny
should take place. At the very least, NGO claims of representivity
and inclusivity must be empirically tested. The role of funding in
determining participation in advocacy particularly warrants further

research. Visions of a deliberatively democratic global civil society
should also be re-examined: rather than deducing a deliberative capac-
ity on the basis of isolated cases such as the World Social Forum and
similar gatherings, researchers would be well advised to develop a more
comprehensive picture of civil society behavior, using inductive analysis
of empirical data. Future discussions of the role of NGOs in democratiz-
ing transnational policy-making must evaluate carefully the capacity of
individual NGOs to give equal voice to heretofore marginalized stake-
holders and the capacity of NGOs as a group to create new spaces for
transnational dialogue.
Notes
1. Some efforts have been made to utilize the strengths of practitioner-authored
accounts while overcoming their potential bias by inviting input from a
variety of competing actors. Fisher (1995) exemplifies the potential of such
an approach. However, in order to orchestrate such a volume, the editor
or editors must perform sufficient original research to identify diverse rel-
evant parties, and the focus of the volume must be narrow enough to
accommodate multiple accounts of the same events.
2. Sources for this chapter include interviews with 27 current or former staff
members of the World Bank, US government, and relevant NGOs, conducted
between November 2007 and August 2008.
3. Fax from Korinna Horta of EDF to BIC, ‘Indications of how IDA fails to
meet its basic objectives of poverty alleviation and environmental protec-
tion,’ 9 October 1992. Also, letter from Raymond Mikesell, Economic Advisor
to the Sierra Club International Program and Larry Williams, Washington
Director, Sierra Club International Program to George A. Folsom, Deputy
Assistant Secretary, International Development, Debt and Environment
Policy, US Treasury, 10 September 1992.
4. IRN is an NGO opposing ‘environmentally destructive’ dams. Lori Udall, the
staff lawyer who led EDF’s Narmada campaign, became Washington Director
for IRN in 1995.
5. Fax from Kay Treakle to ‘Tuesday Group Contacts’ of US environmen-
tal NGOs, plus global northern partners, ‘Letters to World Bank Executive
Directors Needed on Yacyreta,’ 9 September 1992.
6. See testimony by Glenn Prickett, Senior Associate, International Programs,
Natural Resources Defense Council, during hearings before the US House
of Representatives Subcommittee on International Development, Finance,
Trade, and Monetary Policy on Authorizing contributions to IDA, GEF, and
ADF, 5 May 1993.
7. Fax from David Reed, Director, International Institutions Policy Program,
WWF to George A. Folsom, Deputy Assistant Secretary, International Devel-
opment, Debt and Environment Policy, US Treasury, 3 September 1992.
8. Hearings before the US House of Representatives Subcommittee on Interna-

tional Development, Finance, Trade, and Monetary Policy on Authorizing
contributions to IDA, GEF, and ADF, 5 May 1993.
9. Letter from Mazide N’diaye, Co-Chair, NGO/World Bank Working Group, to
Lewis Preston, President, World Bank, 30 October 1992.
11. Hearings before US House of Representatives Subcommittee on Foreign Oper-
ations, Export Financing, and Related Programs on the Foreign Operations,
Export Financing, and Related Programs Appropriations for 1994, 1 March
1993.
13. World Bank, ‘Meeting Between IDA Deputies, Executive Directors, and
NGOs,’ 16 September 1992.
14. See, for example, John Vidal, ‘Earth Summit: Money the Root of All Change,’
The Guardian, 4 June 1992. Also, Eugene Robinson, ‘At Earth Summit, South
Aims to Send Bill North; Developing Nations, Putting Priority on Growth,
Say Cleanup Is Possible – for a Price,’ The Washington Post, 1 June 1992.
15. Reuters, ‘Save summit call by Greenpeace,’ Herald Sun, 28 April 1992.
16. Rik Turner and Colin Harding, ‘Minister’s dismissal raises green doubts about
Collor,’ The Independent, 24 March 1992.
17. Barbara Crossette, ‘Movement Builds to Fight Harmful Projects in Poor
Nations,’ The New York Times, 23 June 1992.
18. Rik Turner and Colin Harding, ‘Minister’s dismissal raises green doubts about
Collor,’ The Independent, 24 March 1992.
19. Hearings before the US House of Representatives Subcommittee on Foreign
Operations, Export Financing, and Related Programs on the Foreign Oper-
ations, Export Financing, and Related Programs Appropriations for 1994,
1 March 1993; and hearings before the US House of Representatives Subcom-
mittee on International Development, Finance, Trade, and Monetary Policy
on Authorizing contributions to IDA, GEF, and ADF, 5 May 1993.
20. Ashish Mandloi, Sanjay Sangvai, Devrambhai Kanera, Manglya Vasave,
Kamala Yadav, and Medha Patkar, ‘NBA Responds to Inquiries on Foreign
Funding,’ The South Asian (thesouthasian.org), 9 July 2006.
21. Charles Stewart Mott Foundation, ‘Mott Grants, Program Area: Reform of
International Finance and Trade, 1990–1994.’ Database print out, prepared
22 May 2008. Provided to the author by the foundation.
22. Ibid.
23. Ibid.
24. Hearings before a US Senate subcommittee of the Committee on Appro-
priations, on Foreign Operations, Export Financing, and Related Programs
Appropriations for Fiscal Year 1994, 15 June 1993.
25. Hearings before US House of Representatives Subcommittee on Foreign Oper-
ations, Export Financing, and Related Programs on the Foreign Operations,
Export Financing, and Related Programs Appropriations for 1994, 1 March
1993.
26. 50 Years is Enough Network, ‘History,’ http://www.50years.org/pdf/

10thAnniversary/history.pdf, viewed 8 July 2009.
27. Charles Stewart Mott Foundation, ‘Mott Grants, Program Area: Reform of
International Finance and Trade, 1990–1994.’ Database print out, prepared
22 May 2008. Provided to the author by the foundation.
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6
Transnational Social Movements
and Democratic Legitimacy
Brigitte Beauzamy
Introduction
Transnational social movements are among the most intensively

debated transnational actors. One explanation for this could be that
they are very hard to define. Are they national or local social movements
interconnected in macro-organizations of some sorts or in international
networks? Are they loose coalitions of like-minded actors operating in a
coordinated fashion? Does the concept of a transnational, as opposed
to a merely international, social movement imply that they mobilize
and stage their protests in different locations, or in several locations
at once? These definitional issues expose underlying questions regard-
ing the dynamics of such mobilizations. It is, in fact, difficult to tell
whether these transnational actors are qualitatively different from the
social movements which have been empirically studied for decades, and
which quite often have displayed international connections or an inter-
est in international issues. Are they connected to other processes of
transnationalization, such as the rise of transnational corporations and
capital, the possibilities for fast communication opened by new tech-
nologies, supranational governance schemes, or increased mobility of
people – phenomena that are generally subsumed under the rubric of
globalization? These questions indicate that the study of transnational
social movements refers more to an array of research perspectives than
to an empirically identifiable set of actors. Therefore, it is easier to focus
on the transnationalization processes, which can be observed in various
social movements, than on transnational social movements as a new
category in a taxonomy of contentious actors.
The curiosity they raise is also linked to the fact that social move-
ments are civil society organizations (CSOs) of a particular sort: they
110
Brigitte Beauzamy 111
are always engaged in contentious politics. In this sense, social move-

ments offer an excellent opportunity for revisiting questions raised in
other chapters of this volume. Where do they take their power from?
Not from electorates or easily identified constituencies or communities,
nor from money. Rather, it seems as if they mostly get their political
power from the capacity to convince people of the quality of their argu-
ments, and from the capacity to put together protest actions. Regarding
the nature of their democratic claims, we will see that they are twofold:
many transnational social movements claim that their internal organi-
zation is democratic, but they also often aim at having an impact on
the political system where they are active, which they tend to frame as
democratization. In other words, social movements offer a Janus-faced
picture: on the one hand, they tend to portray themselves as champions
of democracy, and on the other, they seem to resort to modes of action
which bypass democratic institutions, such as direct action, and even
abandon concerns for democracy in the most contentious settings. This
ambivalence is central to the legitimacy issues raised by social move-
ments in transnational contexts, since transnational actions may ignore
local norms regarding the rule of law more easily by making ethical
claims superseding them.
Against the background of this ambivalence, assessing the demo-
cratic credentials of social movements is most appropriately done by
reviewing the issues and controversies they raise concerning their apti-
tude to strengthen democracy. It should be noted that much of this
criticism comes from within the social movements themselves, which
have been very active in discussing their own democratic features and
promoting various views of democracy. The so-called ‘Global Justice
Movement’ (GJM) is particularly striking in this regard, because it offers
a context in which democratic debates are lively and accessible in the
many publications made by activists or intellectuals collaborating with
the movement. Yet understanding these debates entails more funda-
mental questions concerning the assumptions commonly made about
the democratic nature of social movements – both by their support-
ers and opponents – by emphasizing the role of oppositional actors in
democratic settings marked by the existence of contentious politics.
SMOs and democracy: A brief overview of

contemporary issues
Social movements tend to see themselves as democratizing forces, since

they claim to give a voice to the silenced and represent demands made
112 Transnational Social Movements and Democratic Legitimacy
by people unable to bring them onto the agenda of political parties tak-
ing part in elections. Not all movements situate their contribution in
the field of democratic practices, yet many develop a critique of con-
temporary democratic practices and include their own democratization
in their goals. This chapter will therefore focus on the cases where
democracy is either considered to be one of the topics on which the
movement aims at making a contribution or, at least, to be a positive
value which should be developed and monitored in the mobilization
process. It should be noted that some authors go as far as considering
that this democratic orientation is intrinsic to the definition of social
movements, which should therefore exclude other actors engaged in
contentious politics, but with no concern for democracy either inter-
nally or externally: Michel Wieviorka (1988, 2004), for instance, has
developed the concept of the ‘anti-movement’ to qualify actors who
have also been qualified by others to form an ‘uncivil’ society, of which
armed movements are generally considered to be paradigmatic exam-
ples. We will not opt for the same categories, since issues concerning
the tactical use of violence by a movement should be distinguished
from its views on democracy, and many movements may feel comfort-
able engaging in illegal actions while being very sensitive about their
democratic qualities – whether they are real or imagined. Assessing a
movement’s respect for the rule of law therefore differs from looking
at its democratic credentials, for both dimensions are distinct, espe-
cially in transnational contexts (Donnelly, 2006; Gordon and Stack,
2007).
Some issues relative to democracy have been recurrent in many
transnational social movements ever since the labor movement, but
are still prevalent in contemporary movements, which is a good
indication that they cannot be ‘solved’ by the diffusion of demo-
cratic techniques, contrary to what many activists claim. They mix
normative issues – the ethical consistency of the movement’s ide-
ology and functioning – with organizational and tactical issues –
how to enhance its efficacy by increasing its capacity for innova-
tion, creativity, and quick response to societal changes as well as by
limiting internal dissent. In this first section, we will therefore exam-
ine how these classical reflexions about the shortcomings of social
movements’ democratic practices continue to inform contemporary
debates between activists. Far from being ‘solved’ by former theories
or experiences, these issues appear to be recurrent and predictable
limits to how contemporary movements conceive their democratic
arrangements.
Overcoming the issues of representation: The challenges

of direct democracy
As a movement becomes more structured and institutionalized, it tends
to turn into a hierarchical organization in which decisions will be made
by a strategic head or ruling body, as is the case in most organizations.
To prevent this development is a primary concern. Transnational social
movements therefore differ from other TNAs, insofar as many of them
explicitly militate against an increased division of labor that might result
in the emergence of an elite in charge of defining the main directions
of the organization, following their own interest according to Michel’s
‘iron law of oligarchy’ or at least imposing their own strategies on the
SMO. The intention to preserve the capacity of the movement’s base
or grass-roots to participate in decision-making and actually retain con-
trol of the organization borrows from the theories of direct democracy,
inasmuch as the members of the organization, no matter how member-
ship is defined and measured, are considered to be citizens whose direct
control of policy-making must be protected.
Democratic participation for everyone in decision-making processes
is linked to issues of accountability, which are solved by the use of such
devices as the imperative mandate1 given to participants in decision-
making bodies, when decisions cannot simply be made in general
assemblies and a multi-level organization. It is therefore no surprise that
anarchist movements have been particularly active in promoting this
type of organization (Préposiet, 2005). There is congruence between the
theories of direct democracy at the heart of the movements’ ideologies
and their internal organizational structure. In a multi-stage organization
or process such as this one, the smallest unit can either be the indi-
vidual or a small, organic unit often called the affinity group, which
is both a small-scale political organization and a group of friends. An
affinity group is usually small – no more than a dozen people (Epstein,
1991; Jasper, 1997: Ch. 8) – and is composed of people who already
know each other well, who are used to sharing activist activities, and
who are tied by both egalitarian and democratic links, since there is
no leader of an affinity group, in which decisions are made after a col-
lective deliberation of all participants. Francis Dupuis-Déri insists on
the interpersonal dimension of the affinity group, which helps consoli-
date its existence through shared episodes of protest and celebration on
top of a shared political vision (Dupuis-Déri, 2003). Affinity groups will
designate mandated representatives in order to participate in decision-
making processes at a higher level, bringing together smaller groups. In
most cases, this is not understood as a process of representation since
spokespersons are given an imperative mandate. These processes have

been circulated from anarchist movements to pacifist or anti-nuclear
movements in the US in the 1970s (Epstein, 1991) and later to the GJM
(Dupuis-Déri, 2005), as we will see.
Enabling silenced voices to be heard

Yet making sure that each participant in the movement formally has
direct control over decision-making processes does not guarantee that
equality is actually enforced in the movement, since processes of domi-
nation operating outside the movement are influential as well, creating
a de facto supremacy of white, educated males over the rest of the move-
ments’ members. Such criticism was particularly harsh on the part of
the ‘New Social Movements’ of the 1970s. Feminist activists were espe-
cially keen on pointing out that the organizations of the ‘old left,’
in which many of them had participated, were anything but demo-
cratic, even though they used discourses on democracy extensively.
Besides political agreements between leftist organizations, this criticism
changed profoundly the shape of debates around democracy in social
movement organizations, by introducing the idea that they were silenc-
ing minority voices. From this derives not only a denunciation of the
inequalities inherent in social movements, but also an assumption that
some key sociological characteristics of the activists (gender and eth-
nicity, sometimes sexual orientation) make them speak ‘in a different
voice’ (Gilligan, 1982). In order for these minorities to be granted an
equal access to the deliberative public sphere inside the movement, as
well as to positions of spokespersons, specific devices must be created.
These are of two kinds: on the one hand, mechanisms verifying the
presence of members of minorities at key levels in the social movement
organizations. For instance, in the case of the GJM, plenary sessions in
social forums are being scrutinized in order to determine whether they
respect enough gender parity and/or give space to non-white people or
spokespersons of the ‘Global South’ (which, interestingly, then tend to
be equated). On the other hand, deliberation in public spaces such as
general assemblies – but also smaller groups involved in organizing con-
cretely protest events – is subjected to the introduction of techniques
aiming at favoring the voice of minorities, mostly by increasing their
members’ speaking allotments. This attention given to the democratic
participation of minorities therefore involves a renewed attention to
structures, and tends to understand internal democracy as a matter of
improved deliberative technology. Evaluating the results of such devices
may be done by looking at their actual results – do women and non-

white people actually speak more in a given setting? – but tends to boil
down to evaluating the scheme itself, regardless of its concrete effects: if
it was correctly implemented, the unsatisfactory results may be blamed
on members of minorities themselves, who did not grasp the opportu-
nity to participate, rather than on the conditions of their participation
(Beauzamy, 2007).
Democracy in theory and practice: A case study of the

Global Justice Movement
Quelle démocratie voulons-nous? (‘What kind of democracy do we want?’)

asks the title of one of the latest books edited by the French sociolo-
gist Alain Caillé, who is also a member of the scientific committee of
ATTAC,2 like most contributors to the volume. This recent contribution
to the theoretical edifice constructed by the Global Justice Movement
(GJM) (or alterglobalization, as the translation from the French expres-
sion altermondialisme goes) illustrates the fact that, at times when the
future of the movement seems uncertain due to the challenges it faces
(its problematic institutionalization, its failure to connect strongly with
party politics and government in Europe and Northern America, its
necessity to renew its modes of action in the face of an intensified repres-
sion), issues pertaining to democracy are still very much debated and
publicized and democracy is constructed as a center of the GJM’s dis-
courses. However, it is also the topic of debates and creates cleavages,
especially around issues pertaining to the problematic implementation
of these democratic ideals in the movement’s practices.
Globalization and the movement’s views on democracy:

Democracy as the result of macro-social transformations
Democratic ideals are described as the core of the movement’s ideol-
ogy in a context of globalization, but also as a characteristic immanent
in the movement’s organizational structure, especially in the form of a
network. One striking characteristic of alterglobalist views on democ-
racy is that they tie it directly to the globalization process, which is
depicted as an epochal, out-of-reach macro-social transformation. In
this light, renewed democratic processes are not only the sole antidote
to ‘neoliberal’ economic processes – i.e., the extension of deregulated
financial capitalism across countries and sectors – they also stem from
these processes.3 Such an interpretation of the effects of globalization is
questionable, yet what is of interest here is that democratic structures
adopted by the movements are certainly not designed against global-

ization but as part of it: ‘Globalization is a “stage” of capitalism . . . If
movement structures want to be efficient and display a relevant criti-
cism, they ought to borrow their shape and their resources to the world
they are contesting’ (Aguiton, 2006: 14). In fact, supra-national institu-
tions responsible for the globalization process contribute to creating a
new democratic environment by fostering protest and trying to include
it in its process, as Thierry Brugvin (2006: 68)4 notices in his contri-
bution on civil society governance as a privatization of democracy:
‘Neo-liberal globalization provokes a growing contestation. In order to
appease it, the leaders of public international organizations (WTO, IMF,
etc.) offer to develop a “governance inclusive of civil society.”’ Of course,
it is questionable whether these new democratic arrangements are truly
democratic, and Brugvin is not alone in answering no: ‘There is a first
limitation of democracy when public international organizations are
limiting the sovereignty of states; a second limitation appears when rela-
tions between public international organizations and civil society leave
the states aside’ (Brugvin, 2006: 77). Alterglobalist views on democracy
therefore tend to refute the view of a global civil society (Kaldor, 2003)
which would be the premises of a global governance (if not govern-
ment), and they are critical of the idea that transnational civil society
actors – including social movements – would automatically contribute
to the democratization of transnational political spheres.
If globalization contributes to reinventing democratic practices, these
also stem from other transformations: the turn from civic claims aim-
ing at extending citizenship rights to identity claims and the politics
of recognition; the rise of individualism and the apparent loss in
concomitant civic feelings. Yet, as was apparent already in the criti-
cism of globalization, the diagnostic of an increasingly individualist
society does not lead to oppositional politics for the GJM, but is inter-
preted as creating new opportunities for mobilizations. However, even
if the transformations of democracy are the results of macro-social
changes largely outside the reach of social movement politics, democ-
racy remains a strong core of the movement’s ideology and a source
of hope and guidance: ‘In what name can one oppose speculative cap-
italism? What should the other world, which alterglobalist[s] claim is
possible, look like? What common ideal brings them together positively
and not only in a common rejection? For an immense majority, their
ideal is democracy’ (Caillé, 2006: 6). In this light, democracy appears to
be more of an ethical value than a political regime or a set of collective
decision-making principles.
Democracy as an intrinsic characteristic of the movements

Yet democracy within the movements stems from these macro-social
transformations and therefore is produced by the context in which
they develop: ‘these movements have spontaneously adopted the model
of association and coordination . . . as if civil society generated sponta-
neously its own forms of representation and expression’ (Sue, 2006: 26).
If democracy is at the heart of the political objectives of the movements,
its translation into a concrete goal often remains vague and complex.
The advent of a perfect democracy appears to be an important part of
the overall objectives of the GJM, and even a part of their definition. Yet,
democracy is described in alterglobalist texts as both a characteristic of
the movements and a utopia guiding their actions: this ambivalence is
seen as reinforcing the natural affinity between the GJM and democ-
racy. Therefore, the definition of democracy retained in the GJM, which
coincides with the existence of pluralism, is necessarily the right one.
In fact, the description of the organization of the GJM as intrinsically
good and democratic stems from the fact that this democratic orienta-
tion lies in the values shared by the members of the movements which
contribute to creating it while they materialize it: ‘[Democracy] is not a
reference aimed at avoiding past mistakes but it is a value which is to
be invented’ (Massiah, 2003: 53).5 This value is shared by movements’
activists, of whom a very positive description is made: because activists
of the GJM are fundamentally good, the movements can rectify mis-
takes made by leaders blinded by an erroneous or outdated conception
of political action. Democracy is therefore seen as a tool to overcome
cleavages between the base and the leadership of the movements. More
generally, the question of the unity of the movements, beyond the obvi-
ous political divergences in their midst, is recurrent in alterglobalist
discourses (Agrikolianski et al., 2005). In general, pluralism is cited as
an element of definition of alterglobalization in texts evoking a ‘plu-
ral yet united alterglobalist movement’ (Viveret, 2003: 29).6 Therefore,
since pluralism belongs to the core alterglobalist values, it is bound to
grow, so that the movements can attain their objectives. This form of
open and pluralist social movement organization, characteristic of the
GJM, is described as the visible materialization of deep-rooted political
orientations in a fusion between form and political goal. Pluralism is
at the same time the context, the condition and the result of reticu-
lar forms of organization open to the outside. If pluralism is the key
dimension of the GJM’s definition of democracy, it therefore appears
not only to be a characteristic displayed by the structure of relations
between various parts of the movements, but also to be a value borne by
activists at the individual level, which manifests itself in a propensity to

open-mindedness.
As we have seen so far, the GJM is presented in its self-descriptions as
a horizontal network of activists – in fact, groups of activists – dedicated
to putting an end to anti-democratic neoliberal policies and devoted to
principles of internal democracy (Aubenas and Benasayag, 2002). Yet,
once we go beyond the reiteration of the naturally democratic quality
of the movement, it appears that the practices associated with it can
vary from one author to another, and are often alluded to rather than
explained. It is therefore necessary to examine how the generic discourse
on democracy veils underlying cleavages between competing views on
organizational and protest strategies.
Democratic cleavages and the implementation of

democratic theory
As we have seen, the objectives of the movement, its organizational
forms and its distance vis-à-vis political orthodoxy of any kind are pre-
sented as several aspects subsumed under alterglobalization, but they
also converge in a democratic ideal. However, it is not very difficult
to verify that the most prominent social movement organizations in
the movement, such as ATTAC, can hardly be described empirically as
reticular and non-hierarchic (see, e.g., Angelovici, 2002; Cruzel, 2004).
Recent scandals, concerning frauds in the elections for the renewal of
the head of the French organization, have shown that democracy in
its midst is far from being completely implemented. This classical con-
frontation between discourses on democracy and the limits of concrete
democratic practices reveals competing views on how democratic ideals
should be implemented. Three cleavages can be identified, which divide
alterglobalist activists, even as they agree on the importance of ensuring
democracy in the movement.
A first cleavage is the one between advocates of deliberative democ-
racy and proponents of democratic consensus. Recent studies of con-
temporary movements (Polletta, 2002) or the GJM itself (Della Porta
and Tarrow, 2004; Della Porta et al., 2006) have shown that a lot of
attention is given by activists to organizing democratic modes of deliber-
ation, which are considered to be warrants of the quality of the internal
democracy. In fact, it can be argued that the GJM has invested much of
its energy in organizing debates in its midst, as the paradigmatic form of
the social forum exemplifies. The social forum is dedicated to facilitat-
ing political debates and synthesizing the results of such debates, even
if no common position emerges at the end and there is no intention to

establish a common program to be applied by the various social move-
ment organizations included in the GJM. In this view, the social forum
appears to be among the purest forms of deliberative democracy in the
Habermasian meaning of the concept, since one of its main outputs is
to clarify opposing positions and to improve the general content of the
debate, by helping contenders abandon selfish or narrow views to reach
the level of universal arguments (Sintomer and Blondiaux, 2002).
Such an orientation is directly tied to the definition of democracy as
pluralism, which implies that it is not necessary to try to reduce the
internal diversity of movements in order to gain political efficiency,
for instance, by shortening decision-making processes in coalitions. The
principle, according to which pluralism is a factor of success for the GJM
by helping to achieve the full realization of its values, therefore drives
authors to look for ways of translating it into modes of organization.
The issue is not to avoid conflicting views but to be able to ‘manage
divergences and differences’ (Wasserman, 2003: 9). Authors then point
to the question of methods used to facilitate debates and deliberations:
one such aspect is linked to the management of conflicting individuali-
ties understood as the necessity to find tools to limit emotional displays
of disagreement, even if they are unavoidable in any antagonistic debate
(Jasper, 1997).
Another recurrent reproach directed at deliberative practices within
the GJM is that they would tend to leave aside those issues which lead
to really intractable positions. Since pluralism induces divergences in
opinions, which may lead to non-negotiable oppositions, alterglobalist
arenas have developed ways to bypass such situations (Zanzara Athée,
2003). They tend to put the emphasis on unproblematic statements and
to silence debates on issues that would lead to disagreements. Avoid-
ing topics of conflict is described as a tactic used not only between
social movement organizations in forums, but also within organizations
themselves: ‘The other way of doing politics, which ATTAC claims to
promote, is founded on the prohibition of any political debate in its
midst’ (Barrillon, 2001: 173). These arguments are characteristic of a
position in many ways opposed to the uncritical defense of delibera-
tive democracy in the GJM and centered on the notion of consensus.
The concept of consensus appears at first glance to be widely shared in
the GJM, since most decision-making processes lead to the stage when a
consensus between all participants is attained rather than to the emer-
gence of a majority. Yet a close examination shows that, in fact, it refers
to different practices among different authors. As we have seen, the
advocates of ‘real’ or ‘strong’ consensus, indicating actual agreements

on key issues at the risk of making disagreements apparent, oppose
the pragmatic view on consensus, which considers deliberation rather
useless or even damaging, if it entails aiming at clarifying all choices;
this pragmatic position claims that a consensus is reached when actors
are ready to act together. In this view, the democratic credentials of a
transnational social movement ought to be measured in the light of
what it achieves rather than on its internal organization.
A second cleavage born of democratic practices focuses on the role
played by individuals in mobilization. As we have seen, individualism is
not considered to be an enemy to democracy in the GJM, since contem-
porary democratic forms are the result of an individualization process.
On the contrary, individualization is supposed to nurture democracy –
therefore democratic practices must be respectful of individual auton-
omy. Yet it is clear that most forms of democratic decision-making value
the group, and its capacity to act together, rather than the individ-
ual: the ideal of autonomy, which is widely shared inside the GJM,
refers to small groups acting autonomously rather than to individual-
istic choices. The best example is the prominent place given to affinity
groups in the GJM (Dupuis-Déri, 2003). For instance, the American
activist Starhawk (2002), in her recollection of what she considers to
be the victory of direct action initiatives in Seattle in 1999, describes
the links of friendship within affinity groups, which reinforce their
autonomous decision-making capacity. In the American and Canadian
context she and Dupuis-Déri describe, the affinity group is the unit of
reference of participative democracy in the GJM, and any process of
delegation – in larger assemblies – must stem from it. However, the
affinity group is an organizational form, in which direct democracy pre-
vails and which is characterized by complete autonomy. In Seattle, the
protest strategy displayed by the Direct Action Network (DAN) brought
together affinity groups in ‘grapes,’ which constituted the second level
of the whole organization according to territorial and functional divi-
sions. This means that when affinity groups accept to take a certain
role in a protest event, they retain the capacity to change their plans
if they decide to do so autonomously. In fact, such processes are put
into place even when no formal affinity groups exist: for instance, in an
anti-capitalist ‘village’ organized during the counter-summit of Evian in
2003, the sovereign general assembly of each ‘neighborhood’ of the vil-
lage elected mandated spokespersons, who transmitted their decisions
at the level of the village council. All assemblies met daily, and some-
times impromptu deliberations were organized to face the fast-changing
pace of events in a counter-summit. Each process carefully respected the

rules of consensus-oriented decision-making and strict rules were imple-
mented, so that the opinion of everyone would be heard and considered
equally – which does not say much about the effective impact of various
voices on the final result of deliberations.
However, some alterglobalist authors insist that more room should be
left for the individual, even outside any ‘base group.’ The formal pos-
sibility is left to individuals to engage in new forms of action during
protest events, according to the dogma of the ‘diversity of tactics’ stip-
ulating that the components of a GJM protest or campaign can choose
their modes of action and strategies autonomously. In this light, democ-
racy can even be conceived as a way to protect the individual against
the domination of the group. Yet this theoretical position hardly corre-
sponds with facts, since troublesome individuals are likely to be ignored
or blamed. The certainty that there is a consensus around the pluralist
definition of the GJM supersedes the indications that it is not shared by
everyone, and individual voices have many more chances to be heard
when they assume the role of the spokesperson of the group than when
they engage in political criticism.
A third cleavage, which stems from the two previous ones, is between
activists, for whom internal democratic debates are among the most
essential activities performed by the GJM, and those who privilege
protest action against political opponents. The choice between debates
and action is at the center of the alterglobalist reflection on pluralist
modes of action. This debate concerns primarily counter-summits since
social forums are defined as arenas of deliberation and education, even
if some protest events may be organized during the forums for the par-
ticipants willing to go beyond discourses. The most common answer to
this alternative lies in organizational forms based on affinity groups,
since deliberation in their midst and among them is directly corre-
lated to choices regarding actions and may even occur during a protest
event – some prescriptive texts, for instance, explain how to facilitate
deliberation during a blockade, or in prison.
In Seattle, the success of the blockade of the WTO meeting was
attributed by Starhawk (2003) to the efficient organization put in place
by the DAN, in which the choice to resort to direct action was pri-
marily carried out by non-institutional affinity groups. For Starhawk,
these organizational forms not only allowed the movement to achieve
its goals, but they offered an opportunity to put into practice the prin-
ciple of social organization at the heart of the GJM values – chiefly the
value of autonomy and the practice of direct democracy – which gives
Starhawk’s account of the events a utopian dimension. As we have seen,

in the case of the Seattle counter-summit, affinity groups were organized
in grapes and were assigned a certain territory which they should ‘hold.’
The territorial division was the basis for a division of labor between
strictly equal affinity groups. It is very clear in Starhawk’s text that
groups taking risks during the protest, because they were geographically
close to core zones or to the police, should not be considered superior
to other groups. Affinity groups are the basis of a flexible organizational
model, since grapes can transform themselves quickly according to the
needs of the situation. It is a non-institutional model because, even
if affinity groups are institutionalized social movement organizations
participating in the protest, affinity groups have only an informal exis-
tence. Both models of institutional and non-institutional organizations
therefore coexist, and individuals move from one context of activism
to another according to their personal needs and the external circum-
stances. One key advantage attributed to this flexible organizational
model is that it is more likely to adapt to unforeseen situations: ‘No
centralized direction could have coordinated the scene in the midst of
chaos, and no one was necessary – our organic, autonomous organiza-
tion proved to be much more powerful and efficient’ (Starhawk, 2003:
20). In this decentralized organization, each individual can contribute
to making decisions regarding the modes of action during the protest.
Each person is supposed to determine his or her level of acceptable risk,
and this decision is considered to be an essential part of anyone’s com-
mitment. In Starhawk’s description, one can see an ethic of direct action
emerging, which places at its heart the individual and his or her auton-
omy; as opposed to other modes of action, such as demonstrations, in
direct actions the individual is not considered to be just one in the
crowd.
Yet if quick deliberations can be organized in affinity groups during
protest events, nothing is said of the forms of coordination between
groups in such circumstances. It is assumed that all groups share the
same goal, and that each chosen mode of action will contribute to
attaining it in its own way. The solution to this alternative between
debate and action during GJM events is generally presented using the
concept of convergence: activists bearing different political identities
and formulating different goals may protest together if their practices
can coincide at some point – for instance under the umbrella of a uni-
tary demonstration. Convergence contributes to materializing the ideal
of pluralism, since it is likely to accommodate large differences between
participants in the deliberation. By minimizing the scope of debates
and centering on the actions to be carried out, it attains two goals at

the same time: outside the movements, it facilitates the realization of
the protest action and renders it efficient, while it maximizes diversity
within them which, as we have seen, is understood as a factor of suc-
cess. Does convergence evacuate fundamental debates? If autonomy is
presented as a key aspect of GJM democratic practices, it is a self-limited
autonomy, which leaves room for compromise instead of looking for a
complete self-fulfillment. This leads us to complement Donatella Della
Porta’s concept of ‘tolerant identity’ (2006) as one key element allowing
the GJM to retain its internal diversity: not only is this identity toler-
ant, it is also supposed to be naturally oriented toward the search for
a tactical compromise respectful of ideological differences, described as
convergence.
The democratic credentials of transnational social

movements: A difficult assessment
In this final section, we shall examine how democracy has been placed
not only as an essential part of the internal political debates of social
movements, but also as a hope shared by social movement activists.
However, it is difficult to evaluate concretely how social movements
manage to attain their democratic goals.
Democratic hopes shared by social movements

One striking aspect of the alterglobalist political thought on democ-
racy is that it is split between a very pessimistic worldview and an
often apologetic description of the movements themselves. On the one
hand, the evaluation made of contemporary democratic practices tends
to be very severe, regardless of country and aspect of political partici-
pation: ‘Contrary to the hopes shared in the 1990s, everywhere in the
world the democratic ideal now seems in regression’ (Caillé, 2006: 87).
Even participatory democracy, which is generally viewed rather favor-
ably in the GJM (the participatory budget of Porto Alegre is a much
cited example), is subjected to the authors’ criticisms, questioning the
anthropological conditions of its efficiency: ‘We frequently suppose that
democratic participation is naturally desirable for human beings. Yet we
know that the forces of oppression block and limit this participation in
the reality of effective political practices’ (Corcuff, 2006: 80). The effect
of external structures of oppression – like patriarchy or racism – is there-
fore seen as a limit to democratic participation, which cannot be ignored
by the movements.
If individuals are often limited in their political participation, the

group, as we have seen, is regarded as a positive locus for democratic
practices. Thus, social movement organizations and civil society in gen-
eral play a key role in this rejuvenation. However, limits to this form of
democratic participation are also easy to point out: one concerns polit-
ical participation, which greatly reduces the legitimacy of democratic
processes where associations, not citizens, are the main actors. CSOs
and social movements are also affected by classical organizational issues,
such as the fight for power among themselves – a struggle situated at the
ideological level in all social movement sectors. From an internal point
of view, CSOs are likely to be non-democratic: for instance, Thomas
Coutrot, in a very critical comment on the political philosophy of Hardt
and Negri, states: ‘The study of activist networks in contemporary social
networks leaves no doubt regarding their opacity, the existence of phe-
nomena of domination in their midst, and on the great difficulty for
members of the networks themselves to know who decides and who is
responsible for what’ (Coutrot, 2006: 52).
Authors are very critical of the contemporary discourse on governance
inclusive of civil society, which they consider to be the result of seman-
tic displacements: ‘From a lexical, theoretical and political point of view,
one will notice that the notion of civil society is often substituted for
people, and the notion of partnership for sovereignty’ (Brugvin, 2006:
75). Interestingly, the theoretical sources of a renewed reflection on
democracy are not to be found in recent and trendy contributions but
in the classics: ‘As far as I am concerned, this refoundation should
nurture itself from the two lively sources of the political liberalism of
the Enlightenment and the libertarian social tradition’ (Coutrot, 2006:
54–5).
Yet, in this rather gloomy perspective, the GJM appears to be one
locus for true democratic rejuvenation. This is rarely seen in terms
of potential participation of alterglobalist movement leaders to elec-
toral processes or to the production of public policies, even if such
connections may well exist. In fact, most activists adhere to the view
conceptualized by John Holloway and summarized in the title of his
essay as ‘changing the world without taking power,’ (2002) and believe
that the GJM impacts on the world not only by influencing institu-
tional politics but also by helping to bring about a new culture centered
around its values of openness and diversity. Contemporary disagree-
ments within the movements may lead to more debate, and therefore
to an unmistakably deliberative turn – ‘We may have to argue and fight
and struggle one against another, negotiate and accept compromises’
(Starhawk, 2003: 102) – and force it to depart from the assumption that
democracy arises when the choices of others are respected. Today large-
scale democratic deliberations within the GJM take place without any
verification of the democratic character of the small-scale level which is
supposed to thrive in consensual direct democracy, but renewed internal
debates may change this situation.
Input, throughput, and output legitimacy

From this example we can conclude that, compared to other TNAs,
transnational social movements display some specific patterns as far
as democratic credentials are concerned. With regard to ‘input democ-
racy,’ they seem to have considerable difficulties to prove that they
‘represent’ anyone, since they develop and become institutionalized
outside any mechanism of electoral representation. Not only are social
movement activists not democratically elected, they also claim they
represent constituencies which, in transnational settings, may be so dis-
tant that their concrete possibility to participate in the movement is
extremely impaired. Transnational social movements are clearly among
those TNAs which represent democratic ideas, insofar as they con-
tribute to contemporary thought on democracy and tend to portray
themselves as watchdogs of democracy in various political regimes.
Limits to participation to transnational social movements do not stem
from rules prohibiting certain people from joining – besides ideologi-
cal ones – but patterns of inclusion and exclusion tend to reproduce
social hierarchies and to provide a voice to those who already have
one instead of being truly open. This situation, however, is tied to a
key feature of social movement: they rely solely on voluntary participa-
tion. While providing immaterial and material incentives to participate,
they rely mostly on ideological orientations to attract their participants.
Participation is therefore highly politicized from the outset, but it is
also oriented toward protest action, not only deliberation. Therefore,
if social movements can be seen as triggering political participation
or as initiating political and social conflicts (Touraine, 1978), they do
so mostly by making it easier for people already politicized to turn
to political action, even if some prominent examples exist of actions
initiated by excluded, dominated people, such as prostitutes or ille-
gal migrants. One could argue, however, that the transnational level
requires a level of organization that tends to favor organizations and
networks of seasoned activists, as opposed to the frail mobilizations of
the dominated.
‘Throughput’ democracy is clearly the area where transnational social

movements have made their most significant contribution to the
democratization of a transnational political sphere, by improving the
democratic quality of internal debate and decision-making. This, in
turn, has triggered a renewed attention to the democratic quality of
decision-making processes beyond the vote. Specific devices are imple-
mented in order to maximize the possibilities for equal access to
deliberation and participation of all potential members in the move-
ment. However, an evaluation of the transparency of decision-making
processes and other political practices within movements yields quite
uneven results: the multi-site nature of transnational social movements
implies that information circulates differentially. Transnational social
movements are most transparent when it comes to their normative
documents (charters, founding texts) and especially their ideology, as
they face the necessity to be very clear about ideological issues in
order to mobilize, even if some euphemization is required in some
cases: for instance, in the GJM, the same actors may call themselves
‘alterglobalist’ or ‘anti-capitalist’ in different settings. Similarly, account-
ability is ambiguous: although some control and sanctions may exist
within movements, movement elites cannot be said to be accountable
to stakeholders because of the substantial difficulty to define the stake-
holders of a social movement. Even if a movement emphasizes that it
mobilizes in favor of a particular group of people, this – often imagined –
constituency tends to be either very abstract (and therefore quite disem-
bodied) or very politicized, insofar as the people in whose name the
protest is conducted tend to be equated with those mobilized, while
others are looked at with either contempt or disdain, because they do
not participate in the protest.
At the level of ‘output’ democracy, transnational social movements
often emphasize their contribution to promoting democratic values and
practices. However, in this realm, as in many others, it is difficult to
evaluate their impact, which can be roughly divided between policy-
making and cultural change. Transnational social movements have an
agenda-setting capacity either by circulating their discourses or through
the participation of social movement actors in democratic governance –
which in many cases is more oppositional than inclusive. By promoting
a diversity of views and opinions, transnational social movements there-
fore contribute to the democratization of global governance, even if
their capacity to influence decisions is quite limited. Arguable they make
major contributions by proposing new democratic norms and promot-
ing democratic models such as the participatory budget of Porto Alegre.
Such diffusion of cultural norms may take the form of direct action
instead of mere discourses.
Internally as well as externally, the democratic credentials of
transnational social movements are therefore difficult to assess. The nor-
mative question whether social movements should be democratic has
been answered positively by most of them, yet no agreement exists as
to what kind of normative democratic demands this entails. In par-
ticular, there appear to exist serious disagreements on the definition
of democratic vs. undemocratic protest practices, as many movement
activists do not consider the rule of law to be an acceptable limit to their
repertoires and argue that, in some cases, democracy must be protected
against the rule of law.
Are we in a universe where such disparate democratic ideals coex-
ist that one can just notice these differences and conclude that there
is no shared definition of democracy at all? Part of the answer lies in
the fact that, transnational social movements use the vocabulary of
democracy extensively and are active in proposing reformulations and
contributions to contemporary democratic theory. This indicates that,
at least, they contribute to circulating the vocabulary of deliberation,
participation, and so on. In terms of democratization, one key contri-
bution therefore resides in their capacity to trigger more debates about
democracy at the transnational level.
Notes
1. The use of the tool of the imperative mandate is classically associated with
direct democracy and is widely adopted in anarchist movements (Dupuis-Déri,
2005). The bearers of such mandate receive detailed instructions especially
with regard to their negotiations with actors such as public authorities and
the police, which is supposed to limit the risk that they would falsely convey
the preferences expressed by the members of the group mandating them.
2. The Association pour la taxation des transactions financières et pour l’aide aux
citoyens (ATTAC) – Association for the taxation of financial transactions and
for the help to citizens – is one of the primary alterglobalist organizations in
France, where it was created in 1998. Since then, 35 other ATTACs have been
created in other countries.
3. The explanation for such a discourse would be too long to develop here, but
is based on the fact that movements’ discourses belong to a larger universe of
discourse on globalization, and therefore adopt the broader frames describing
globalization (Beauzamy, 2005, 2008).
4. Political sociologist and member of the scientific council of ATTAC.
5. President of the Centre de Recherche et d’initiatives pour le développement
(CRID).
6. Philosopher and jurist.
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7
Diaspora Groups, Transnational
Activism, and Democratic
Legitimacy
Catarina Kinnvall and Bo Petersson
Introduction
Diaspora groups are potential key players in the relation between home-
land and host states and can quite tangibly affect political developments
in both, as well as have an impact on various aspects of global gov-
ernance (Hägel and Peretz, 2005). Theoretically this chapter focuses
on the relationship between diaspora politics, transnational activism,
and democratic legitimacy. Empirically, the chapter discusses the spe-
cific case of transnational activism among young Muslims in Europe.
Examining the democratic credentials of diaspora groups, we explore
how discourses on globalization, terror, and multicultural policies have
affected the extent to which some of these groups turn to radical Islam
or search for more moderate alternatives, but also how these groups are
internally constituted in terms of legitimacy and accountability.
Diasporas have attracted increasing academic attention in recent years
(Brubaker, 2005; Safran, 2005). There are many reasons for this. The
growing interest in issues like identity constructions, nationalisms, and
globalization provides one important impulse. As deterritorialization
processes (Scholte, 2000) unfold and accelerate, there is reason to ana-
lyze new and territorially less bounded processes of nation-building and
nation-making beyond the confines of the individual states. Diasporas
challenge traditional conceptions of territoriality and ingrained ideas
of what is inside and outside a state. As Carter (2005: 60–1) notes,
‘given the increased capacity for diasporas to “act at a distance” due
to technological advances in communication, and indeed the greater
prevalence of diaspora communities in the contemporary world, we
need to reconsider the ways that we think about the nation and its
130
Catarina Kinnvall and Bo Petersson 131
territorialities, as well as diaspora and its territorialities.’ Consequently,

the increased focus on diasporas is best viewed in the same light as the
emerging attention paid to ‘global governance.’ Both can be traced to a
growing dissatisfaction among international relations scholars with the
state-dominated models of economic and social actors and, particularly,
with the failure to capture the vast increase of non-state actors and the
implications of technology in a global age (Weiss, 2005). Thus, indi-
viduals are embedded in multi-layered, multi-sited transnational social
fields, encompassing both those who move and those who stay behind,
which suggests that our analytical lens should be both broadened and
deepened (Levitt and Glick Schiller, 2004).
The term diaspora comes from the Greek language and refers to
dispersal or movement. Most definitions focus on the existence of a
homeland and have predominantly been used to refer to the Jewish
diaspora as well as to other ‘classical’ diaspora groups, such as the
Greek and the Armenian exile communities (Safran, 2005). In tradi-
tional definitions, the term is often employed to describe a repressed
group and includes a homeland dimension of wanting to return to a
lost place. In Sheffer’s (2003: 9) influential definition, diaspora is laid
out to be: ‘a social-political formation, created as a result of either vol-
untary or forced migration, whose members regard themselves as of the
same ethno-national origin and who permanently reside as minorities
in one or several host countries. Members of such entities maintain reg-
ular or occasional contacts with what they regard as their homelands.’
Following Brubaker (2005: 5–6), there are three signifying traits of con-
temporary diasporas: (a) dispersion in space; (b) the prevalence of an
orientation towards a real or imagined homeland; and (c) boundary
maintenance vs. the host society.
In other, more recent definitions, diaspora has come to refer to any
kind of far-away nationalism including groups who struggle for self-
determination. Albanians, Hindus, Irish, Tamils, Kashmiris, Kurds, and
Palestinians, to mention a few, have all been categorized accordingly.
Even broader definitions include all kinds of religious groups, who hap-
pen to live in the same place, or fully assimilated national groups, such
as Italian, Greek, or Russian communities; or the concept is used to refer
to immigrants more generally who have some common national, cul-
tural, or religious points of reference (Brubaker, 1995; Vertovec, 1999;
Sheffer, 2003; Brown, 2006).
The term diaspora is appropriate and useful for describing charac-
teristic patterns of global migration. To refer to the first generation of
migrants, who arrive in substantial numbers as a diaspora, is to denote
132 Diaspora Groups and Democratic Legitimacy
their scattering from a common place of origin, often as a result of cer-

tain ‘push’ factors. When talking about diaspora, we refer to groups of
people who create their own communities to make sure they are ‘at
home’ while abroad. Of importance is that they remain emotionally
attached to an imagined and/or mythologized home and/or homeland
(Arnstberg, 2006; Kinnvall, 2006). The emphasis on the mythical is
important in this regard, as it substitutes for a physical territory the idea
of an abstract homeland. This is the case for many exile Kurdish commu-
nities, and is also significant for the imagined ummah (the global com-
munity of believers) among various Muslim communities in the West.
However, applied to societies that have experienced second-
generation and subsequent descendants from the original diasporas, the
term diaspora carries with it certain connotations that are potentially
dysfunctional to the promotion of successful multicultural societies. To
continue to regard and to refer to ethno-racial and religious minori-
ties in the West as diasporas is, in fact, to privilege a certain reading of
precedence of arrival in the geographical space that promotes an insider
versus outsider view of what constitutes a true national. Moreover,
among certain individuals and communities, a sustained diasporic iden-
tity can result in civic and cultural estrangement, thereby exacerbating
recourse to fragments of identity from a perceived place of acceptance
and honor, an archaic homeland, increasingly romanticized and essen-
tialized, as the succeeding generations are born to the original diasporic
families (Kinnvall, 2004; Kinnvall and Nesbitt-Larking, 2010a, 2010b).
Hence, when discussing Muslim diasporas in Europe empirically, we use
the concept of ‘post-diasporas’ (Kinnvall and Nesbitt-Larking, 2010b) to
refer to second and subsequent generations of migrants from societies
in which Islam assumes an important cultural reference point and/or is
state religion.
Diaspora groups as transnational actors
Exiled individuals and groups often nurture an idealized notion of their

homelands, which may be quite distant from actual social and political
realities. This is prone to inspire individual and joint actions in many
ways, also oppositional ones. It is thus often envisaged that diaspora
groups can act transnationally in order to bring about changes for the
better in non-democratic states. They may send democratic impulses
to the homeland from abroad, which could have crucial effects for
democratic transformations. They may also work through global insti-
tutions to put pressure on repressive regimes. As argued by Sheffer
(2003: 27), diaspora activities may be viewed as ‘precursors to future

developments that will significantly change international and domestic
politics’ (quoted in Shain and Barth, 2003). However, diaspora groups
may also be some of the staunchest supporters of anciennes regimes and
thus in effect prolong their lease on life through, for example, remit-
tances, money transfers, and successful lobbying in the host state. They
may also challenge the regimes in other ways, not all of which are
democratic.
Still, diasporas do not only affect, but are also affected by,
transnational homeland organizations that aim both to mobilize those
living abroad, and to affect global public opinion. This type of
transnational action needs to be accounted for, not only in terms of
nationalist organizations but also in terms of religious or other move-
ments (Jaffrelot and Therwath, 2007). Some prominent examples of
nationalist organizations with clear transnational goals are the Rashtriya
Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS; the Association of National Volunteers) and
the Vishwa Hindu Parishad (VHP; World Council of Hindus), both with
a national base in India. Similarly the Tabligh-i-jamaat constitutes an
example of a religious transnational movement that works to pres-
sure governments and global institutions to adhere to its claims for
re-Islamization of the diaspora. ‘Indeed the very notion of diaspora often
results from deliberate action by a centre vis-a-vis its periphery’ (Jaffrelot
and Therwath, 2007: 279).
From a scholarly perspective the key question therefore seems to be
not so much what diaspora is as what diaspora does, through its own
actions or through the actions of others. Brubaker (2005: 12) has sug-
gested that diaspora be thought of as a ‘category of practice,’ which
implies that diaspora is primarily an analytical concept to describe
interest articulation, identity mobilization, loyalty building, diffusion
of ideas, lobbying, and so on. Focusing on diaspora in terms of claims-
making and identity constructions is to make a normative claim, in
which attention is directed not so much at describing the world, as to
the re-making of it. Thinking of diaspora activities as ‘practices,’ there-
fore, allows us to recognize how only a certain segment of particular
diaspora communities is actually committed to the diasporic project.
Thus, diaspora should not be seen as a homogeneous entity, but as
diverse groups that pull in different directions within different contexts.
The question is, then: What activities are undertaken by the diaspora or
in its name, and for what purposes?1
Many of those representing diaspora groups are highly organized and
are set on lobbying national and international political decision-makers
in attempts to influence global policy-making. They often work as

transnational actors whose members share a common belief system
and can become mobilized both in relation to alleviating poverty or
providing welfare provisions in times of disasters, and in relation to
various political goals. Such political goals can include calls for self-
determination, as has been the case among diaspora communities
originating from, for example, Chechnya, Aceh, or Palestine. How-
ever, they can also refer to terrorist networks, such as Islamic radical
networks whose ambition is to establish a God-fearing Islamic polity,
the Caliphate, under Sharia law (Silvestri, 2007). In addition, some
diaspora representatives display significant tendencies toward highly
formalized organizations, even if these are not as hierarchical as may
be the case for more established institutions like the Catholic Church.
In this sense, diasporas display a range of organizational patterns, from
diffuse networks to formalized institutions, such as the America-Israel
Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC; Waxman and Lasensky, 2009) and the
Organization of the Islamic Conference (OIC).
Transnational diasporas are likely to act both in a transnational polit-
ical society – as when Muslim communities take their cases to the
European Court of Human Rights – and in a transnational civil soci-
ety, as exemplified by Muslim diasporas organizing in order to help the
victims of the earthquakes in Iran and Pakistan. Muslim diasporas dif-
fer in regard to their degree of politicization as well as the degree of
autonomy these actors have. Hence they diverge in terms of power,
largely dependent on the extent to which they are allowed to func-
tion and communicate in relation to the host societies in which they
live and organize, as well as in relation to their real or imagined
home societies and in relation to international society’s norms and
values.
Diaspora and global governance
The growing importance of diaspora politics can only be understood

in the context of an increasingly globalized world, where borders have
grown both more porous and fuzzier. Instead of holding either the
state level or the international system constant, we need to look at
the interaction between them and recognize how diaspora politics are
affected by global events, and how such politics may affect and mediate
transnational political activities (Gourevitch, 2002 in Carlsnaes, 2007).
Hence, global governance changes the location of authority in the
context of integration and fragmentation (Weiss, 2005).
Diasporic groups may actively participate in global networks focused

on promoting ideas and practices of ‘good governance,’ supporting and
advocating issues such as equal rights for all minorities, affirmative
action, social and economic justice for all disadvantaged groups, and
the return of land to displaced communities (Brinkerhoff, 2005). In
doing this they work actively with regional and global IGOs and NGOs,
such as the Red Cross, Amnesty International, the United Nations, and
human rights groups. The American Jewish Anti-Defamation League, for
instance, has ongoing public campaigns against racism, in general, and
anti-Semitism, in particular, directed at global institutions (Sheffer,
2003). Diasporas also work through global networks of international
trade, commerce, and financial services, as exemplified by influen-
tial groups within the Chinese diaspora, thus facilitating trans-state
exchanges. Taking advantage of global institutions and new technology,
diaspora networks may exert significant influence on public opinion,
on transnational NGOs as well as on decision-making processes at the
inter-state level. ‘[U]sing such networks, liberal South Africans abroad
demanded an end to apartheid, some Irish-Americans tried to moderate
the IRA’s behavior, Palestinian-Americans urged tougher PLO positions
vis-à-vis Israel, and overseas Chinese and Cubans spread anti-homeland
propaganda in the context of the struggle for human rights’ (Sheffer,
2003: 186).
These examples are all focused on claims-making among diaspora
communities. Hence, the organizational strategies employed by
some representatives of diaspora communities increasingly acquire a
transnational and subnational character. The ways in which these
groups participate extend beyond ‘the limits of the national, span multi-
ple localities, transnationally connect public spheres, thus, diversify the
“spaces for and of politics” ’ (Soysal, 2000: 11). For this reason, claims
concerning the establishment and operation of political parties, mosque
organizations, and community associations at local levels are not only
confined to their domestic localities. For instance, in German elections
Turkish diasporic organizations have pushed for their local voting rights
and demands to vote in European elections, while simultaneously exert-
ing pressure on the Turkish government to facilitate their rights to vote
in Turkish national elections (Soysal, 2000: 11).
In this connection, it is interesting to note how events in the home-
land may co-exist and become mutually reinforced with policies in the
host societies, thus affecting transnational diasporic activity and global
governance. The Sikh insurgency in the 1980s – the call for an inde-
pendent Khalistan – is a relevant example of this bifocality2 in terms of
diaspora practice. As groups among the Sikh diaspora were facing a crisis
of legitimacy for their traditions in the host society, especially the post-
diaspora generation, the attack on the Golden temple in Punjab in 1984
(the so-called Bluestar Operation) created a painful transition from being
a ‘confident exile community’ to an ‘introspective victim diaspora’ (Sing
Tatla, 1999: 207). Not only did previously clean-shaven diaspora Sikhs
start to grow a beard and adhere to the Amritdhari3 tradition, the con-
sequences were immediately seen at the global level. Global human
rights NGOs, such as Amnesty International, and other international
organizations were pressured to investigate human rights violations in
Punjab (Kinnvall, 2002, 2006; Shani, 2002). Here it is important to note,
however, that the call for an independent Khalistan was predominantly
supported by high-caste Sikhs (especially Jats) living abroad, while it
was much less influential among low-caste diaspora Sikhs and among
many Sikhs in Punjab. Seeing diaspora as a practice thus brings to light
internal divisions and representations.
This bifocality can be further complicated by looking at the case of
Hizb ut-Tahrir (the Party of Liberation), whose global ambitions for an
Islamic state have resonated among post-diaspora Muslims in Europe
and elsewhere. Hizb ut-Tahrir is not easy to pinpoint in terms of what
kind of global actor it is, nor in terms of its effects on global governance.
It describes itself as a global party, but in most places it acts more as an
ideological global movement that uses local discontent to affect gov-
ernments and global institutions (Mandaville, 2001). The case of Hizb
ut-Tahrir complicates any simple bidirectional analyses of transnational
actors and global governance, as it clearly aims to establish an alterna-
tive global order at the same time as its methods are to affect Muslim
opinion locally by references to worldwide Muslim suffering. Attempts
to curb the movement have, as a result, dominated much political
discussion at both state and inter-state levels.
These examples show the difficulties in assuming any kind of straight-
forward correlation between diaspora politics and ‘good governance.’
They also question the correlation between transnational actors and
decreased state power in terms of control and surveillance (Brubaker,
2005). Here transnational terrorism has gained particular attention in
response to post-September 11, thus affecting global and regional gov-
ernance structures. Hence, terrorism legislation throughout Europe and
elsewhere has predominantly affected Muslims. Britain, together with
Spain, have been forceful actors in this regard and have attempted to
influence other EU member states to adopt draconian legislation on
terrorism in line with their own legal frameworks (Levidow, 2007).
Consequently, the EU Council of Ministers has redefined terrorism,

resulting in group approaches to policing and punishment becom-
ing permissible in Europe. For Muslim diaspora communities this has
involved the freezing of property, cash, and business accounts, as the
flow of remittances, including Muslim charities, and financial institu-
tions have come under scrutiny (Samad and Sen, 2007). Such activities
have led international human rights organizations to argue that anti-
terror legislation is an attack on democracy per se, as no distinction
is made between political activity, community networks, immigration
issues, and organized violence.
In other parts of the world, like in authoritarian Uzbekistan, the
regime has used the global ‘war on terror’ as a convenient pretext for
repressive action against all opposition, real and perceived. In the wake
of the Andijon massacre in Uzbekistan in 2005, a community of diaspora
Uzbeks in Ivanovo, Russia, were accused by Uzbek authorities of having
been among the instigators of the riots. Twelve of the Ivanovo Uzbeks
were incarcerated in Russia pending an extradition to Uzbekistan, where
they were to face charges of murder, conspiracy to overthrow the gov-
ernment, and terrorism. However, Memorial and other Russian human
rights organizations took their case to the European Court of Human
Rights, which subsequently ruled against an extradition (Jönsson and
Petersson, 2009).
As Pnina Werbner (2007) emphasizes, the re-appropriation of religious
and political behavior often challenges prevailing structures of author-
ity in the majority societies, as they tend to unsettle existing norms of
social cohesion for various groups and institutions. But they also have a
more direct international dimension. As noted by Soysal (2000), when
Pakistani immigrants in Britain make demands for the teaching of Islam
in state schools, they mobilize around a Muslim identity, but they also
appeal to a universalistic language of ‘human rights’ and ‘personhood’
to justify their claims. Hence, not only do they mobilize to affect the
local school authorities, but they also pressure the national government,
and take their case to the European Court of Human Rights. These exam-
ples, Soysal argues, tend to further undermine the predominant models
of citizenship, which are normatively predicated upon the integrity of
national communities and their boundaries. They also provide convinc-
ing examples of how diaspora politics may affect, directly or indirectly,
discourses on global governance and global civil society.
Considering how diaspora communities, or at least those claiming to
represent diaspora communities, are active participants on the global
stage, surprisingly little has been written about the relationship between
diaspora groups and global governance. Yet, a focus on migrant and

diaspora networks does prompt speculation about their potential to act
as democratic forces in world politics.
Diaspora and democratic legitimacy
As noted in the previous section, there is a tendency to discuss diaspora

politics in terms of their effects on ‘good governance,’ which implies
that groups in the diaspora actively work to enhance norms of democ-
racy, equality, and civic participation. Such claims have involved active
demands for civic participation in national and transnational affairs, as
demonstrated, for example, in the case of Turkish diasporas in Germany
demanding the right to vote in the European elections. However, this
depends, of course, on who is included in such diaspora networks. Not
all diasporas work for a common goal, and not all work for causes
that are considered worthy and good in Western democracies. Rather
diasporas, like societies, are divided in terms of class, caste, race, eth-
nicity, and gender and often have conflicting goals. Those speaking on
behalf of diaspora communities are not always approved of by all seg-
ments of the community and, similar to TNAs in general, diasporas can
be both democratic and undemocratic in terms of their politics. In the-
oretical terms we must be careful not to romanticize the ‘global’ as has
previously been the case with the ‘local.’ As Mercer et al. (2009: 145)
argue:
The insistence that transnational connections are inherently more

progressive than local ones leads us to wonder if they are being
fetishized. Associations of transnational migrants and diasporas, the
building blocks of ‘migrant civil society’ and ‘diasporic civil society,’
seem to fit neatly into this imagined geography of civil society. Such
a spatial framework dovetails with the interests of those who seek to
transfer the burden of delivering development to migrants.
Speaking about democratic credentials of diaspora communities is

thus not without its complications. Neither is it unproblematic to con-
ceive of democratic credentials and legitimacy as directly correlated
in terms of diaspora politics. Some diaspora representatives may be
legitimate spokespersons for their communities without being either
democratically elected or having democratic goals. Similarly, it is pos-
sible to perceive of diaspora elites who lack legitimacy among some
community members, but who are prepared to use active democratic
participation in the public sphere to achieve legitimate goals. Viewing

diaspora as a practice, rather than as homogeneous entities, thus com-
plicates any simplistic relationship between democratic credentials and
legitimacy. As Uhlin (this volume) notes, legitimacy itself needs to be
viewed as a social construction in which actors struggle to define inter-
ests and worldviews. It is a highly contested process of claims-making,
where not even claims perceived as legitimate by certain community
members are valid for all. There are always minorities within minori-
ties. This is not least the case among many female members of diaspora
communities.
As many postcolonial feminists have pointed out with respect to
diaspora practices (see, e.g., Sunder Rajan, 1993; Spivak, 1999), it is
much easier to make an idea powerful, if it can be framed in the
discourse of ‘anti-Western,’ as that allows for the glorification (and unifi-
cation) of the ‘pre-colonial’ or homeland culture and religion. ‘Women
in their “proper” behaviour, their “proper” clothing, embody the line
which signifies the collectivity’s boundaries’ (Yuval-Davis, 1997). As
Fatima Mernissi and Karen Browne (in Tohidi and Bayes, 2001: 39) have
noted:
In groups led by men whose identity is constructed in important ways

by their confrontation with an external ‘other’, great weight falls on
the need to control the other ‘others’ (women) in their midst.
Hence, the re-imagination of Western ideas of unity and unification

is an important resource for those members of a community who are
powerful and conservative. By viewing the group as a unified agent,
rights are ‘bestowed on “the group” as a means to preserve “its” tra-
dition and defend “its” interests of “the” group’ (Tamir, 1999: 47).
Who become legitimate spokespersons for a community thus has conse-
quences for those affected by ‘community’ decisions (input legitimacy),
as well as for the actual decision-making procedures within ‘the commu-
nity’ (throughput legitimacy). It also clearly affects the consequences of
such decisions (output legitimacy). All these factors make it particularly
difficult to evaluate diaspora communities in terms of representation,
In addition, a specific diaspora may simultaneously work for an
explicit ethnic or national goal, such as the establishment of a Kurdish
or Palestinian state, and be prepared to organize itself on behalf of
more general concerns about the plight of Kurds and Muslims. In either
case, as is common among TNAs more generally, representatives are
seldom democratically elected, although they commonly give voice to

marginalized people. There is certainly room for direct participation,
but decision-making processes are not always open and transparent
although there may be significant deliberation taking place within dif-
ferent diaspora communities. Hence in regard to the input, throughput,
output discussion, diasporas are, as argued above, difficult to evalu-
ate. This is perhaps even more so among the post-diaspora generation,
as decisions to act transnationally often come in response to their
marginalized status within their larger communities; the dynamics of
belonging to a peer group; increased communication through the new
media; and, in terms of post-diaspora Muslims, as a significant response
to the increasing securitization of Islam.
Thus, when addressing the issue of democratic credentials as such, not
only do the internal and organizational aspects of the diaspora groups
need to be assessed, but also the results they may eventually achieve. For
example, considering diaspora networks emanating from authoritarian
homelands in Central Asia, it might actually be of lesser importance
if the internal structure of diaspora networks is somewhat flawed in
democratic terms, if they eventually bring about the fall of the author-
itarian regimes and contribute to their replacement with something
more democratic. Thus, not only do input and throughput legitimacy
enter the equation, but output legitimacy should also be assessed.
In terms of output legitimacy, it is also interesting to note how cer-
tain issues, such as the decision to use a global discourse on human
rights to achieve community goals, may have negative (undemocratic)
consequences for some members of other diaspora communities. For
instance, when spokespersons for the Palestinian diasporic project speak
about the violation of human rights and the need for a Palestinian state,
appealing to UN and EU institutions as they do so, this may be played
out in terms of anti-Semitism at the local level affecting diaspora Jews,
who may themselves be divided in terms of their support for an inde-
pendent Palestine. The extent to which such activities contribute to the
democratization of global governance is difficult to evaluate, but per-
haps global or regional institutions can provide a framework within
which such claims can be discussed and through which local tensions
can be addressed.
In the following, we will discuss these theoretical underpinnings
in relation to a specific empirical case. We have chosen to focus on
Muslim diasporas in Europe, especially on the post-diaspora generation,
as examples of a new form of diaspora activities. There are several rea-
sons for this. One has to do with Brubaker’s emphasis on the need to
get away from seeing diasporas as closed ethnic communities who speak
with one voice. Muslims in Europe are highly divided in terms of eth-
nic belonging and homeland dimensions, yet they often mobilize, and
are mobilized by, diffuse transnational and global forces to act for a
common cause. Second, this choice can be motivated in terms of claims-
making aimed at global institutions – claims that often cross-cut ethnic
boundaries, and where global discourses on human rights are used as
justifications. Third, we have chosen these groups with particular refer-
ence to the post-diaspora generations, as these are often immersed in
new global technological networks, in which new forms of communi-
cation play an important part. In addition, post-diaspora generations
often experience the bifocality of diaspora practice at first hand, as they
are frequently made diffuse representatives of Islamic terrorism at the
same time as many of them experience a lack of access to domestic
institutions, pushing them toward the international and global stage.
In the empirical account we discuss the role(s) of Muslim diasporas as
transnational actors in the context of global governance, and the extent
to which we can talk about democratic legitimacy and accountability
in regard to these groups. The discussion is set against the background
of intensified discourses of fear and terror after September 11, and
involves a focus on how Islam is used, and sometimes securitized, by
transnational actors in order to advance a more radical or moderate
agenda in European societies.
Muslim diasporas and transnational activism
It is evident that transnational activism is an integral recognizable

feature of Muslim minorities in Europe. Muslim diasporas are widely
organized in transnational networks and associations in terms of media,
politics, religious activity, cultural artifacts, economic activity, fashion,
and food. Transnational identities are often supported by a variety of
‘ethnic institutions’ in Europe and solidified by resistance to racism and
religious bigotry as well as through contacts with other members of the
diaspora. In response to their marginalized status in many European
societies, Muslim associations throughout Europe have formed several
federations to identify and represent common interests vis-à-vis both
the state and the global community.
There are a plethora of such organizations. Often, as in France,4
they are characterized by diversity and competition in terms of rep-
resentation and political goals, as well as in terms of certain ethnic
or homeland connections. They also tend to diverge regarding to
transnationalism, as some of them clearly work across national borders,

within a transnational civil society, while others are mainly confined to
the national level. In addition, it should be noted how in France many
of these associations have mixed ethnic membership, and are formed in
attempts to practice freedoms that diverge from singular definitions of
French citizenship. For young people, associations such as these may be
particularly important, as their experience of being French citizens has
often been perceived as unequal citizenship.
The proliferation of Muslim organizations and associations is often
viewed in relation to global pressure on the Western idea of the nation-
state. In this sense, Islam does appear ideologically suited for taking
advantage of transnationalism as it conceives of the Muslim commu-
nity as a world community, not recognizing nation-states as legitimate
in religious terms. As Samad and Sen (2007: 11) argue: ‘The old diasporas
of yesterday have become the transnational communities of today, and
Muslims have strong networks both as ethnic and religious communi-
ties.’ However, Engbersen (2007) notes how such transnationalism is
often structurally predicated. Hence, his study of transnationalism in
the Netherlands tends to confirm that high degrees of social integration
of Muslims result in strong ethnic identities and weak transnational
influence, while unemployment and social exclusion lead to greater
affiliation with transnational influences emanating from the country of
origin and the worldwide community of Muslims. Here it is worth not-
ing that Muslims, especially the youth, are more strongly represented
among the unemployed throughout Europe (Pedziwiatr, 2007).
This implies a difference in activism among the post-diaspora genera-
tion compared to their parents or grandparents. The young generation
of Muslims in European societies possesses not only formal citizenship
but also tacit knowledge, which allows them to engage constructively in
citizenship activities, seeking the recognition of their heritage and val-
ues in the public, private, and transnational sphere (Pedziwiatr, 2007). In
stark contrast to the first generation, the post-diasporas tend to separate
religion and ethnicity, anchoring their identity within the transnational
concept of the ummah. This has resulted in a growth of ‘home-made’
versions of Islam in Europe, where sermons, religious literature, and
public discussions are increasingly in English and spread through var-
ious new means of communication, such as the Internet. Some of these
young Muslims may turn to radical organizations or movements, but an
increasing number are also taking advantage of their tacit knowledge of
being both Muslims and citizens of Western societies to advance their
situation through transnational channels and global governance.
Muslim diasporas in the context of global governance

It is important to consider the mechanisms by which universalistic
rights discourses not only reinforce particularistic identities and claims,
but also concurrently normalize these same identities (Soysal, 2000).
In terms of Muslim diasporas, we may look at the year-long process
leading up to the French ban of the hijab (headscarf) in 2004, during
which diasporic Muslim communities throughout Europe were getting
ready to protest (El Hamel, 2002). Demonstrations were held not only in
France, but also in Belgium, Copenhagen, and London, with the mayor
of London, Ken Livingstone, hosting a conference headed by the Assem-
bly for the Protection of Hijab on July 2004. The same year, on 29 June
2004, the European Court of Human Rights upheld a Turkish prohibi-
tion on student veiling at the university. As a result, members of the UN
Committee on the Rights of the Child sharply criticized the French law
(Werbner, 2007). ‘Indeed, more and more Muslim associations elevate
their operations to the European level, establishing umbrella organiza-
tions and forums to coordinate their activities and pursue a Europe-wide
agenda’ (Soysal, 2000: 10).
However, representatives of Muslim diasporic groups do not only take
their cases to legitimate global institutions, but also to ‘illegitimate’
ones. The fact that Islam, in response to legacies of colonialization, glob-
alization, and discourses on terror, has become increasingly politicized
and securitized has sharpened identity issues among many young post-
diasporic Muslims. To be a young Muslim in many European societies
of today requires a constant negotiation with the rest of the society of
what it means to be a Muslim. As young Muslims in Europe they are
under strong pressures to take a stand in the perceived conflict between
various notions of European secularism and Islamic religion.
Hence, in response to racist politicians, migration controls, segrega-
tion, and their parallel life existence, some Muslims in Europe have
increasingly come to interpret this Eurocentric ‘we’ as being about
threats to their religious identity, at times insisting upon their own sys-
tem of law, order, societal security, and governance. Recent surveys of
Muslim opinions in the UK, for instance, show that up to one-third
of the respondents claimed to have more in common with Muslims in
other countries than with non-Muslims in England (Mizra et al., 2007).
To this should be added that almost two-thirds of British Pakistanis
came from Mirpur and Kotli, in what was Pakistani-controlled Kashmir,
known as Azad Kashmir, and that almost 40,000 return visits are made
every year from Britain to Pakistan (O’Duffy, 2008). It should thus
come as no surprise that some of their concerns about the Kashmir
conflict have been exported to their wider kin and to their post-diasporic
off-spring (Brown, 2006).
Here we may look at the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF)
in Afghanistan, and its spill-over effects in Pakistan, as an example of the
complex linkages between domestic politics in multicultural Europe,
the mobilization of post-diaspora Muslims, and global governance. After
the Taliban regime fell in 2001, the UN was instrumental in creating a
new government in Kabul aided by ISAF. Of importance is how Taliban
insurgency forces are using international media and public opinion to
establish sympathies for their cause. The overriding strategic narrative is
a quest for legitimacy. Most effort is devoted to Arabic language output,
aimed at soliciting the support of transnational networks and funders,
but efforts are also made to reach disenchanted diaspora communities in
the West through intermediaries, such as the Hizb ut-Tahrir and Tabligh-
i-jamaat. Tellingly ISAF is constantly portrayed as showing indifference
to civilian victims. The Taliban are also aware of Western sensitivity to
casualties and exploit this through attacks aimed at creating publicity
in the ISAF countries. The attacks against Canadian troops increased,
for instance, as the Canadian parliament was debating the questions
of Canadian troops in Afghanistan during the autumn of 2006 (Interna-
tional Crisis Group, 2009). All of this has effects on global governance, as
it questions the legitimacy of the UN, not only among its member states
but also among some members of Muslim post-diaspora groups, who
interpret their structural exclusion in Western societies as yet another
aspect of a Western-led global war against Islam.
Post-diaspora Muslims: Accountability and democratic legitimacy

When focusing on how Muslim diasporas are affecting global gover-
nance, the question of output legitimacy becomes pertinent in relation
to democratic legitimacy and accountability. Here it is necessary to
revisit the previous discussion on diaspora as practice rather than enti-
ties. Indeed, establishing ‘what Islam’ we are talking about and ‘whom
we refer to’ as we use the label ‘Muslim,’ is not an easy task. All over
the world there exist a large number of theological and legal traditions
of what constitutes Islam. Not only are there significant differences
between the Sunni and Shi’ite version of Islam, but there are also dif-
ferences within these traditions, such as that between Wahhabism and
Deobandism (Geddes, 2003; Silvestri, 2007). Who is to be counted as
Muslim is equally difficult to assess, and it is important to note how
most European societies do not use religious affiliation as a basis for
creating censuses. Given the diversity of Muslim communities, it is not

surprising that there is little agreement on the boundaries of Muslim
diasporas. Between them, they demonstrate a diversity of affiliations
to Islam, which affects and problematizes any discussion of democratic
accountability as well as output legitimacy.
It is also imperative to point out that only a very small group of young
Muslims turn to radical politics or violent movements. Instead, we are
witnessing a more general discontent with democratic politics among
post-diasporic Muslim youth in Europe and elsewhere. In this regard,
Joycelyn Cesari (2007) argues that the Westernization of Islamic post-
diasporas has intensified individual choice in Islamic practice which,
in turn, has accelerated the pace of transnational Islamic develop-
ments. This has happened in at least two ways, both of which affect
the accountability and democratic legitimacy of post-diaspora Muslim
representatives.
First, mass education and mass communication have yielded self-
trained religious micro-intellectuals, who are competing with formally
trained imams. Second, what Cesari calls ‘electronic religiosity’ is
expanding Islam transnationally through audio and video media, inde-
pendent satellite shows, and through the continuing birth of new
websites. ‘In so doing, they exert a moderating effect on Islamic dis-
course and break up the monopoly of traditional religious authorities
over the management of the sacred’ (Cesari, 2007: 115). It is within this
context that we also see the emergence of a new kind of institutionalized
transnational activism among some elements of the post-diaspora gen-
eration. The leaders of these transnational networks and organizations
are not clerics, but consist of educated entrepreneurs who predomi-
nantly are Descendants of middle or upper classes of urban areas in their
parents’ countries of origin. They are clearly distinct from the imams or
‘parish’ leaders who are generally less well educated. In this sense, they
are clearly more representative of the hybrid lives of many post-diaspora
Muslims, and display greater evidence of accountability toward those
whom they are to represent.
Hence, the Young Muslims of France Association is led by young male
students or aspiring middle-class individuals who wish to ‘wake up the
minds’ of Muslim youth in France (Cesari, 2007). Another example is
the AMGT (Avrupa Milli Görus Teskilatari) in Germany, which remains
ideologically diverse, with the younger generation of German Muslims
claiming a stake in German society and global civil society (Pedziwiatr,
2007). The Swedish Young Muslim Association is similarly challenging
other Muslim organizations in Sweden, such as the Swedish Muslim
Council (Carlbom, 2003). With around 5000 members and 30 local

branches, Swedish Young Muslims encourage interfaith conferences,
transnational workshops and camps, and make active involvement in
civil society a top priority.5
This style of calm and integrated post-diasporic Muslim assertiveness
eschews the extremes of isolated radicalization and angry essentialism.
Far from being compliant, it is agonistic and assertive, making claims
in the agora of pluralistic struggle, seeking compromises and bargains
and advocating a transnational approach of democratic engagement
(Kinnvall and Nesbitt-Larking, 2010b). Within such contexts, it is
important to recognize how young European Muslims are providing
new discourses on Islam, democracy, and global civil society, as some of
them are increasingly concerned with translating Islam into a universal-
istic language. ‘Western Islamic communities have become participants
within transnational networks, and Western Muslims have become legit-
imate members of the Ummah. The ways Western Islam will challenge
Muslim world regimes remains to be seen’ (Cesari, 2007: 120).
In this regard Silvestri (2007) notes the inverse relationship that
seems to exist between narratives of European secularism and Islam;
the more disestablished traditional Western religions become, the more
official and institutionalized Islam becomes. This increasing institution-
alization of Islam often derives from a competition between Muslim
individuals, political leaders, religious scholars, and movements for the
control of post-diaspora communities. Hence, in Europe we see two
basic strategies involved in such institutionalization processes, both of
which have consequences for democratic credentials and legitimacy.
One strategy involves the creation of Muslim institutions based on an
already existing traditional pattern of church–state relations. As new
Muslim institutions they normally have a representative and consul-
tative role, so-called ‘national Muslim councils,’ which tend to claim
legitimacy by referring to the Islamic idea of ijma (consultation). An
alternative strategy involves Muslims organizing themselves in associ-
ations that lobby governments and global institutions and target the
media in a very effective and professional way. Both strategies tend to
involve rather conventional mechanisms of interaction with the state,
where Muslim organizations seek the legitimation of the state in order to
become legitimate representatives of their communities. ‘Rivalry among
Muslim individuals and organizations in order to access visibility and
power is an obvious outcome of this process of state controlled insti-
tutionalization, domestication, and securitization of Islam’ (Silvestri,
2007: 24).
In this sense, it is possible to claim that institutionalized Islam in

Europe may become increasingly focused on adhering to democratic
rules and norms in order to gain access to national and international
policy-making procedures, and may thus positively affect democratic
global governance. However, the reverse is perhaps as likely, with disillu-
sioned and marginalized post-diasporic Muslims organizing in order to
challenge secular norms, democratic governance, and global institutions
and societies throughout the world. Considering the diversity of Muslim
diasporas and organizations, these are mainly empirical questions.
Conclusion
In this chapter we have shown how transnational politics, global gov-

ernance, and democratic legitimacy can be analyzed in the light of
diaspora politics. This has predominantly involved a discussion of how
diaspora politics can provide a basis for contending agenda-setting,
leverage politics from abroad, and, ultimately, influence domestic and
transnational political developments as well as global governance.
Important to note is how diasporas as transnational activists are difficult
to define or describe in terms of conventional social movements. Resort-
ing to an essentialized ethnic or national categorization is not only
undesirable, it is untenable considering the diversity within diaspora
communities. This applies perhaps even more to the post-diaspora gen-
eration, as they become further divorced from their parents’ homeland
traditions and cultural practices.
Hence we should think of diasporas in terms of practice, that is,
in terms of how representatives of diaspora communities can tangi-
bly affect, and be affected by, host and home societies, transnational
developments and global governance. Such influences can have posi-
tive effects through enhanced claims-making based on a universalistic
discourse of human rights and personhood. But they are equally likely
to become disruptive forces of global developments – working against
any forms of ‘good governance’ and democratic practices. Hence there
is nothing inherently good or bad in diaspora practices. Instead, there
is a need to contextualize such practices in order to fully appreciate
their potential for transformative politics, and recognize that there is
no linear transition from the national to the transnational level. Thus,
when speaking about diasporas as transnational activists, we need to
complement our theories on transnationalism and global governance
with theories of redistribution: only if real grievances are recognized
and accounted for, locally as well as globally, can we affect the negative
consequences of diaspora politics and support constructive democratic

diasporic involvement in global governance.
Notes
1. When making general references to ‘diasporas’ in the following account, we
thus imply those claiming to represent diaspora communities.
2. The term ‘bifocality’ is used by Vertovec (2004: 977) to refer to migrants living
transnational lives.
3. A baptized Sikh.
4. In France a number of organizations compete to become official represen-
tatives of Muslim communities, such as the UOIF (Union des Organisations
Islamiques de France); the FNMF (Fédération Nationale des Musulmans de
France); the IMMP (L’Institute Musulman de la Mosquée de Paris); Tabligh,
and the CMTF (Le Comité Musulman des Turcs Français) (Pedziwiatr, 2007).
5. Interview with the leader Omar Mustapha at the Young Left’s web
page, accessed 15 January 2009, http://www.ungvanster.se/template/arkiv/
?pressID=1147).
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Part III
Democratic Problems and
Possibilities in a Transnational
Context
8
Democratic Credentials or Bridging
Mechanisms? Constituents,
Representatives, and the Dual
Politics of Democratic
Representation
Enrique Peruzzotti
Introduction
In the past decade, civil society organizations (CSOs) have gained great
prominence at all levels of governance. At the local level, NGOs and
other types of advocacy organizations are now an established pres-
ence in the domestic field of democratic politics and have expanded
upon the traditional understanding of lobbying to include this new
group of public interests organizations. At the global and regional lev-
els, advocacy networks play a very active role promoting campaigns and
rallying transnational constituencies around different causes, ranging
from human rights to environmental issues. As they gain greater visi-
bility and assume new responsibilities, some concerns have been raised
around the democratic credentials of CSOs. It is thus common to hear
objections from elected officials, corporations, or governments concern-
ing the unrepresentative and unaccountable status of NGOs, complaints
about NGOs’ freedom from scrutiny through formal accountability
mechanisms, which other organizations are subject to, as well as skepti-
cism about the alleged contributions that non-governmental actors truly
make to the agenda of democratization of domestic and global institu-
tions. Thus the issue of the democratic credentials of different actors
emerges as a relevant question both at the domestic and global level.
The problem of democratic credentials of self-authorized actors was
not so pertinent before the third democratizing wave; on the contrary,
153
there was widespread agreement that the work of human rights net-
works constituted a great contribution to the agenda of democratization
of many countries that were subject to authoritarian rule. But now that
democratically elected governments are in office and free elections are
regularly held in an unprecedented number of nation-states, the claims
of many of those organizations to ‘represent’ certain constituencies or
causes are being challenged, particularly by political parties and legis-
latures who feel that they hold the monopoly over what constitutes
legitimate democratic representation. After all, they argue, they had to
test their claims in a competitive electoral struggle. Why should repre-
sentatives that were rightfully authorized by the people in free elections
listen or take into account the claims of a cadre of self-appointed civic
leaders? Let NGOs stand for election, their argument goes, to see if their
claims get them into office.
Similar arguments are made in reference to the status and legiti-
macy of those NGOs and networks that operate in the global arena
and that conceive of themselves as part of a transnational civil soci-
ety reflecting the concerns of an alleged global citizenry. Certainly, at
the global level the democratic status of all actors is a contested issue,
given the absence of common electorally-appointed political authority.
Not only transnational NGOs but also transnational corporations and
intergovernmental institutions are struggling to establish themselves as
legitimate global actors. For some, however, the basis for the legitimacy
and accountability of business and intergovernmental institutions seem
to be better established than that of global CSOs. After all, the former
have clearly defined stakeholders to account to: owners/shareholders
and governments, respectively (Brown, 2008: 33). Many intergovern-
mental institutions can also justify their democratic claims by tracing
their linkages to elected authorities: they act as spokespersons of demo-
cratically elected administrations who selected them to represent their
nations’ interests. Global NGOs cannot claim any direct or indirect con-
nection to electoral accountability, nor can they claim (in most cases)
any formal linkage to a specific constituency, thus making it more diffi-
cult for them to establish their democratic credentials. Many questions
are consequently raised to challenge the representativeness (and thus
legitimacy) of CSOs. Who do these actors represent? To whom are they
accountable? Are they capable of democratic representation (Slim, 2002;
cf. Pallas, Chapter 5 this volume)?
The literature that is sympathetic to the struggles of CSOs at the
domestic and global level attempts to address such challenges by search-
ing for attributes that could signal the democratic character of those
Enrique Peruzzotti 155
actors. This is the intention that guides the present volume. In the
introduction, Erman and Uhlin set themselves the task of finding some
criteria to determine the democratic aspects of certain actors’ activi-
ties or practices in the global domain, around which they can establish
their democratic credentials. The latter usually opens up a search for
practices and/or mechanisms that could provide some functional equiv-
alent to electoral delegation/accountability and thus could serve to build
the democratic legitimacy of such actors (Macdonald, 2008). Functional
equivalents to electoral representation fall short of our expectations, for
any CSOs (no matter how accountable to its different stakeholders) will
inevitably be much less representative than a representative assembly
or a president (Arato, 2006) and, consequently, will not settle the chal-
lenge that the strong version of the ‘unrepresentative’ argument raises.
Even if we establish electoral procedures to appoint the leadership of an
organization or develop some mechanisms of accountability of the orga-
nization toward those that it claims to represent (or that are affected by
its activities), the universe of such organization will always be narrower
than the one that is covered by national representative institutions. Sec-
ond, and more importantly, strategies to force constituencies to become
‘representative’ openly undermine the very dynamics of democratic rep-
resentation. Even if possible, the development of a civil society that is
too accountable and representative of different stakeholders or groups
would undermine the creative dimension of the practice of democratic
representation. The question is not whether it is viable to force all non-
governmental actors to become representative and accountable or not,
but rather how to build adequate channels of institutional mediation
between a plurality of constituencies and different sites of decision-
making. It is those bridging mechanisms, not individual actors, which
should incorporate into their institutional design certain democratic
criteria like openness, plurality, accountability, and so on.
To properly frame the discussion on the democratic credentials of
different actors both at the national and global level, it is necessary
to address the issue of what we understand by democratic representa-
tion. Many of the arguments regarding the institutional deficit or lack
of democratic credentials, I will argue, are built around a narrow mean-
ing of what democratic representation is: they are usually predicated
on the model of the electoral relationship. Elections are presented as
the quintessential institution of democratic representation and elected
officials are considered the exclusive carriers of democratic legitimacy.
So a first step of this chapter is to confront such an understanding
of democratic representation by arguing that elections cannot be the
sole criteria for evaluating a complex practice like democratic repre-

sentation. The chapter divides as follows. The first section challenges
the dominant approach to representation as an activity that largely rest
on the shoulders of elected representatives, and proposes a relational
understanding of democratic representation as resting on both active
constituents and representatives. In this view, constituents’ activities are
as legitimate and integral part of the practice of representation as elected
representatives are. The following section analyzes the two dimensions
that are always present in the practice of democratic representation –
a mirror and a creative one – and explores how the latter relates to the
issue of constituent and representative politics. The third section focuses
on the debate about the democratic status and credentials of advocacy
NGOs, arguing that inherited notions of political accountability are
inadequate as a conceptual tool to evaluate the role and contribution of
advocacy NGOs to the practice of democratic representation. The con-
cluding section argues for the need to redirect the debate from the issue
of democratic credentials to the question of building bridging mecha-
nisms to establish a more fluid communication between constituents
and representatives.
Toward a relational approach to democratic representation:

Constituent and representative politics
There is a dominant understanding of democratic representation that is

predicated on two assumptions: (1) that representation is an activity
that largely rests on the shoulders of elected elites, (2) that elec-
tions are the quintessential institution of representative government
(Schumpeter, 1950; Manin, 1997; Manin et al., 1999). According to this
model, the role of elections is to produce an elective aristocracy that will
be in charge of the activity of representing. The role of the electorate is
to choose from a pool of competitors those to whom it is willing to
delegate its power (and eventually hold accountable in the next elec-
tion, assuming that current representatives are allowed and interested
in running for re-election) (Peruzzotti, 2008).
There are several problematic aspects of such a depiction of demo-
cratic representation. The first one is that it leaves aside the crucial
question of what goes on during representation: by highlighting the
act of electoral delegation that opens up – or the act of accountability
that closes – a representative period, a purely electoral understanding
of democratic representation overlooks the crucial aspect of what takes
place during the exercise of representation (Pitkin, 1967; Plotke, 1997).
In the second place, the placing of elections at the center of the anal-
ysis of representation overlooks the role of the multiple non-electoral
channels, through which different constituencies try to exert influence
on the decisions of elected representatives and institutions throughout
their tenure. In the third place, such an approach views representation
as largely the domain of political elites: democracy representation equals
democratic representatives. The role of those being represented is not
considered particularly relevant for the good exercise of representation
and, consequently, those activities that go beyond the act of voting tend
to be ignored. Lastly, it relies on a very minimal definition of democratic
accountability. By placing elections as the central element of repre-
sentative practices and simultaneously stressing the limitations of the
former as instruments of citizen’s voice and control, democratic min-
imalism ends up formulating a paradoxical analysis of representation
whereas the notion of representing becomes detached from the wishes
of the constituents. As one of the main contemporary proponents of
this model argues,
Democracy may be the best form of government that was ever

invented but it is congenitally, structurally, weak as a mechanism of
popular control over governments. This is just the way life is.
(Przeworski, 2006)
At best, representative government turns into responsible govern-

ment: given the limitations of elections as mechanisms of politi-
cal accountability, elitist democratic models tend to view horizontal
accountability as a substitute for the former. If elections are inade-
quate as a mechanism of accountability, the agenda should turn to the
strengthening of mechanisms of horizontal accountability. This notion
of democratic representation is not predicated on the existence of ade-
quate mechanisms of feedback between rulers and ruled, but it is rather
a function of the rationality of elites and of the institutional context in
which they operate. In brief, we are left with a very problematic under-
standing of what democratic representation is: in the elitist model, the
concept of democratic representation is divorced from any notion of
governmental responsiveness to citizens (Peruzzotti, 2008).
Against the elitist approach, I will argue that the idea of democratic
representation cannot be disconnected from the idea of representatives’
responsiveness and accountability to those they claim to represent. The
notion of democratic representation refers to a specific type of bond that
citizens and politicians develop with one another under representative
democracy and, consequently, cannot be properly understood if we dis-

regard the relational dimension of the concept as elitist models do. It
is also inadequate to focus solely on the activity of representatives; it
is equally important to analyze the initiatives of constituents and their
effort to influence the decisions that the former make. Consequently,
it becomes imperative to approach the analysis of democratic represen-
tation from a relational perspective that incorporates the activities of
the represented not only on Election Day but on a permanent basis.
Relations of representation require both active constituents and active
representatives. Participation and representation are thus two interde-
pendent and indissolubly connected components of the practice of
democratic representation (Plotke, 1997).
The previous discussion helps us to reframe the question of the demo-
cratic legitimacy of non-elected actors and organizations. It would be
erroneous to consider that non-elected organizations do not play a legit-
imate role in the practice of democratic representation or that to gain
legitimacy they have to become ‘representative.’ Constituents do not
completely or fully delegate power to elected representatives: on those
issues, which they feel particularly strongly about, they remain politi-
cally active, joining non-electoral organizations and engaging in collec-
tive action to voice specific claims in the public sphere and/or to exert
influence on representative institutions. The politics of constituents is
an equally indispensable component of representative government as
that of elected representatives. It would then be erroneous to bestow
democratic legitimacy to elected officials only; constituents also play a
crucial and legitimate role under any democracy. Constituent politics,
however, differs in its dynamics and logic from the politics of represen-
tative institutions. Consequently we should not judge or evaluate them
with the yardstick that is employed to assess the behavior of represen-
tative institutions, and least of all try to turn them into representative
institutions.1
Then, let’s analyze some of the characteristics of constituent politics.2
Who are the protagonists of constituent politics in any democracy?
Constituent politics is largely the domain of associated citizens. Iso-
lated citizens, most civil society theorists would agree, are unlikely to
exert any meaningful influence on the political process unless they
join a trade union, political party, professional association, or social
movement.3 ‘Effective citizens’ in complex modern societies are those
who coalesce into different forms of associations that give voice to
and can more effectively promote the specific claims of different con-
stituencies (Schmitter, 2008: 199). It was the great insight of classical
pluralist authors such as D.B. Truman, A.F. Bentley, and V.O. Key to call
attention to the non-electoral elements of representation, particularly
to the contribution of social groups to the political process (Peruzzotti,
2008). Current theories of civil society share this belief in the indis-
pensability of social groups to democratic agency. Civic participation
is considered a vital complement to electoral politics which helps to
realize the citizenship principle in contemporary mass democracies. It is
in those multiple associational terrains that a plurality of independent
constituencies shape and voice their opinions throughout the duration
of the representative tenure.
The consensus that exists in most civil society approaches regarding
the centrality of groups for the democratic political process as well as the
virtuous role that citizen’s participation plays in any democracy hides,
however, significant disagreements over how to understand civil soci-
ety. There is no agreement over the boundaries of the concept, on the
alleged benefits that civic participation brings to democratic life. Nor
is there consensus as to which particular actors and associational for-
mats are the most relevant for social and political life. In consequence,
the field of civil society studies frequently appears as fragmented, where
competing understandings of the concept challenge one another. The
end result is the uneasy coexistence of a diversity of understandings of
civil society that often leads to futile discussions over which of them
provides the most adequate understanding of the dynamics of contem-
porary civil societies (Peruzzotti, forthcoming). It is not the intention
of this chapter to open up a debate over those manifold understand-
ings of participation. For the present purposes, I will simply argue that
all of the associational forms that different civil society models have
in mind can be placed under the wing of a broader concept that is
supposed to contain them all: the notion of a mediated field of pol-
itics. Constituent politics presupposes the existence, expansion, and
constant recreation of a heterogeneous associational field. The latter
contains primary and secondary groups and networks, abstract publics,
social movements, NGOs, private interest organizations, and so on.
Those associational forms are a crucial set of mediations, which stand
between the individual citizen and representative structures, providing
voice and influence to different sorts of constituencies. On the other side
of the representative equation we find a set of representative institutions
that aggregate and bridge interests and opinions and have the capa-
bility to make authoritative decisions that translate into specific public
policies. Elected representatives, unlike constituent groups, are neither
self-constituted nor self-appointed but are formally authorized by the
citizenry through electoral mechanisms. It is the act of electoral delega-

tion that confers upon them the authority to make binding decisions.
The notion of accountability is intrinsically related to such a particu-
lar public status of democratically elected officials: it is an attempt to
regulate such authority by subjecting it to constitutional, legal, and
administrative norms, to ensure that the activities of representatives are
both legally and politically accountable.
The mirror and the creative dimension of democratic

representation
The field of mediated politics can be understood as the terrain where

a multifaceted and complex economy of claim-making takes place. In
this view, the dynamics of democratic representation entail an ongo-
ing process of claim-making. Constituencies can be organized around
territorial, functional, or normative criteria. Some express very specific
economic interests (private interest organizations), others a territorially
delimited community (a neighborhood association) or abstract ideals
(a human rights NGO). The specific composition of the field of con-
stituent politics will vary from society to society, and also within each
society, according to different temporal situations: it is always evolv-
ing according to the different distributions of interests and opinions.
Constituencies are not permanent, fixed groups that express immutable
interests or values, but temporal and fluid groups that participate along
with a broad range of other organizations in an ongoing process of
making and receiving claims. The process of claim-making is not cir-
cumscribed by the electoral calendar, nor does it come to an end after
an electoral verdict is reached (Saward, 2008: 4). A central dynamic
aspect of the former is the presence of specific groups that act as norms
entrepreneurs, in the sense that they introduce discourses that are not
accepted or acknowledged by society.
In such an economy of claim-making, two different sorts of represen-
tative claims can be distinguished:
(1) Claims that seek to express or reflect an already existing or con-

stituted interest or identity; this dimension of representation is
guided by a mirror-logic: in this understanding, good representation
entails properly reflecting the structure of interests and opinions
that prevails in society at a certain time.
(2) Claims that are abstract and normative and that might not nec-
essarily reflect existing constituencies. This is the creative side of
the practice of democratic representation and expresses itself in ini-

tiatives that challenge a dominant configuration of interests and
identities, hoping to bring about new ones.
The first type of political process is oriented to court and reflect

existing constituencies, the second one to challenge existing ones.
Both dimensions are present in constituent and representative politics.
Modern mass political parties viewed themselves as the carriers of a
transformative agenda: they organized themselves around a program-
matic platform that expressed the particular ideological positions of its
adherents. For many authors, parties have lost such a creative edge and
become ideologically neutral electoral machines (Kirchheimer, 1969).
Turned into machineries for electoral competition, contemporary catch-
all parties attempt to aggregate and accommodate as many demands as
possible. Campaigns are organized to capture the median voter, party
programs and discourses shifting to the center of the ideological spec-
trum to avoid alienating significant sectors of the electorate (and thus
leaving the ‘extremes’ to a small cadre of ideological – and electorally
ineffective – party organizations). While they are still able to fulfill a
large number of functions, party organizations are no longer capable of
providing a strong focus of normative identification (Schmitter, 2001)
and, consequently, they are not capable of developing strong ideologi-
cal links with their constituencies (Manin, 1997; Schmitter, 2001). For
many, the ideological vacuum left by parties has been filled by certain
civic actors, such as social movements, advocacy networks, and NGOs.
They are in many cases the ones that carry out a normatively based
politics that is the best expression of the creative impulse of demo-
cratic representation.4 The politics of many public interest NGOs and
social movements, for example, aim at challenging the existing bound-
aries of the political sphere (Offe, 1984); questioning specific aspects of
a society’s identity or structure of interests, and constituting, through
claim-making, previously non-existent constituencies. Unconcerned by
the restrictions of electoral competition and interest bargaining and
aggregation, they can behave in ways that parties or private interest
groups could not afford, upholding unpopular positions or adopting an
intransigent stand on certain issues.
Democratic representation lives by this tension between mirroring
and transformation. As Michael Saward eloquently put it,
electoral politics requires non-electoral action to shake up and re-set

its agenda on a regular basis – as new claims to authenticity challenge
the products of established processes of authorization. We might say

that democracies need a series of mini refunding . . . and that some
of the refunding need the relative absence of constraint that some
non-electoral modes of representation foster.
(Saward, 2008: 22)
Consequently, a proper understanding of representation cannot ignore

such a creative dimension of democratic politics. A theory of demo-
cratic representation that only focuses on electoral and classical pressure
groups politics will inevitably turn a blind eye to such a transformative
dimension of the practice of representation.
The democratic legitimacy of advocacy NGOs
Constituent politics, I have argued, involves a very heterogeneous group

of actors and organizations: private interest group organizations, civic
associations, social movements, service provider NGOs, advocacy NGOs,
and so on. Some of those organizations make representative claims that
can be traced to certain concrete constituencies: usually those that con-
stitute the membership of an organization, be it the individual members
of a choral society or the different economic groups that integrate a
lobby organization. There is, however, one organizational type, advo-
cacy NGOs, that sometimes lacks a definitely delineated constituency
despite its claims to ‘represent’ a certain cause or group (cf. Pallas,
Chapter 5 this volume). Many of the issues that the debate concerning
the democratic credentials raises are directly aimed at this sort of actor,
for it is the one that poses the most challenging questions regarding
the issue of democratic representation (Charnovitz, 2006; Jordan and
van Tuijl, 2006; Peruzzotti, 2006). The argument of the present section
will focus exclusively on the status and role of advocacy NGOs. Why
narrow the analysis to NGOs? Because advocacy NGOs – unlike gov-
ernments, corporations, service provider NGOs, or intergovernmental
organizations – cannot claim (in most instances) a clear lineage to a
specific constituency.
Advocacy NGOs represent a hard case that challenges not only the
electoral but also the classical pressure group approach to representa-
tion. What makes their case unique is that, in many instances, NGOs
cannot trace their representative claims to a concrete constituency. They
claim to represent constituencies without having received any form of
authorization from them: none of those they claim to represent has for-
mally delegated power to them, and in many instances they do not even
know about the NGO’s existence. In some cases advocacy NGOs claim to
express the interests of constituencies that do not yet exist. They do not
give voice to an already constituted group but they are rather acting as
‘constituency entrepreneurs.’ Through their claims they hope to bring
about a new constituency or to empower and organize voiceless groups.
The classical relationship that democratic theory postulates between
constituent and representative is inadequate to account for the politi-
cal activities of this sort of actor. There is no clear delegation of power
from a determinate constituency; rather the organization acts as a self-
authorized group. In many cases advocacy NGOs speak on behalf of
constituencies that do not yet exist. Consequently, they make rep-
resentative claims without having received any formal authorization
from the alleged constituency they claim to represent. Following War-
ren Nyamugasira, one could argue that some advocacy NGOs engage
in interim representation in the sense that the organization speaks for
a constituency that is not yet present, because it is disempowered
and lacks consciousness of itself as a constituency temporarily filling
such a void, while acting as a spokesperson of that would-be con-
stituency. As Nyamugasira (1998: 303) argues, the role of the NGO
is thus to organize such a constituency and eventually to make their
role superfluous. In this particular case, the success of a claimant can
only be properly evaluated over a certain time span, for it usually
requires a sustained campaign or struggle to bring awareness regarding
new concerns, identities or interests. It would be wrong to ignore this
temporal dimension, for no process of identification or recognition is
immediate.
The sort of creative politics that characterizes many advocacy NGOs
is at odds with the standard account of political accountability, which
is predicated on the notion that representatives are responsive to con-
stituents who are already constituted and thus are able to delegate
their power to them. Many advocacy organizations, like a certain NGO
that claims to represent the interests of the poor or children, act
as self-appointed representatives, for in most cases they did not receive
any formal authorization from those constituencies (Montanaro, 2008).
There might not be a clearly identifiable group that could be considered
their natural constituency. The electoral notion of political accountabil-
ity loses its meaning in the absence of a process of formal authorization
from a principal to an agent. Does that mean then that the criticisms
that are leveled at the unrepresentative and unaccountable nature of
NGOs are correct? Are those challenges to their democratic legitimacy
valid?
I have tried to argue that the practice of democratic representation

entails two-track politics, of constituents and of representatives, respec-
tively. Both forms of politics are legitimate and crucial for the proper
exercise of democratic representation. Each form of politics has its own
specific logic, and any attempt to strengthen the practice of represen-
tation should take into account the need for preserving both forms of
politicization. This means that it would be inadequate to attempt to
force constituent politics to become representative or accountable. As
Kenneth Anderson argues,
The glory of civil society institutions ought to be that they are not
representative, and because they are not, are free to argue and shout
their visions of social justice, seek to persuade, offer alternatives that
representative institutions cannot.
(Anderson, 2009: 11)
Standard notions of political accountability provide an inadequate

yardstick to evaluate the democratic status of NGOs, because they are
too closely tied to an electoral understanding of democratic represen-
tation, which makes sense to evaluate the democratic credentials of
representatives but not necessarily that of constituents. It would be erro-
neous to force all advocacy organizations to be politically accountable to
existing constituencies, or to grant democratic legitimacy only to those
groups who fit this formal authorization model. If we were to pursue
such strategy, then the creative edge of the practice of democratic rep-
resentation would be lost. Current debates – like the one that revolves
around the concept of upward and downward accountability – reflect
those concerns. NGOs that are too accountable to donors might, under
certain circumstances, compromise their political agenda: the pressures
of the philanthropic market might steer those organizations away from
their mission to become competitive in their fund-raising efforts. Fund-
raising success might come at the price of compromising their political
autonomy, by redirecting their work to activities that reflect the agenda
of others, be it private foundations, international organizations, or gov-
ernments. In a similar vein, we can argue that organizations that are
too eager to court existing constituencies can also lose their transforma-
tive edge. So, downward accountability should not always be prescribed,
especially if we are talking about advocacy NGOs whose goal is to
challenge existing constituencies or to forge constituencies anew.5
The concept of political accountability that we apply to electoral
actors is an inadequate yardstick to evaluate those organizations that are
engaged in the creative self-constitution of new actors and voices. The

electoral notion of political accountability is certainly useful to evalu-
ate the mirror dimension of democratic representation, but it is not of
much help in assessing the status of actors that are organized around
a transformative agenda. A politically accountable civil society is not
necessarily better for democratic representation for the latter requires
the reenergizing force of non-electoral creative politics to shake up and
renew its agenda on a regular basis (Saward, 2008: 21). Consequently,
efforts to increase the political accountability of advocacy NGOs are mis-
guided, because they are extrapolating criteria of accountability that are
inadequate to evaluate advocacy initiatives. Solutions should rather aim
at preserving the conditions that make the emergence of this creative
impulse possible.
To argue that inherited notions of political accountability are inad-
equate for certain types of civic actors does not mean endorsing the
position that those actors remain completely unaccountable. There are
forms of accountability that advocacy NGOs have to subject themselves
to. To begin with, all organizations have to obey existing laws and reg-
ulations; they cannot engage in illegal activities, nor can they violate
constitutional guarantees or rights without risking judicial sanctions. So
some dimensions of the notion of legal accountability apply to them
as well. When I say some, it is to make the obvious point that civic
organizations should not be subject to the demanding constitutional,
legal, and administrative constraints that are applied to representative
institutions.
The fact that, in the case of many advocacy NGOs, one cannot
trace a direct link between the organization and a specific constituency
(as in the case of other organizations like private interest groups or
membership organizations) actually forces them to work harder to estab-
lish their legitimacy, which must be done discursively. As Dryzek and
Niemeyer (2008: 491) rightfully argue, these types of organizations must
be thought of as representatives of particular discourses rather than
groups.6 Other actors, such as corporations, international organizations,
private interest groups, membership voluntary associations, and so on,
can establish their representativeness more easily: the number of mem-
bers can give an idea of the support that a voluntary association has
in society. In the case of a lobby organization that claims to represent
the interests of the financial sector, one can see whether the most rel-
evant financial institutions are affiliated to it or not. The same applies
to corporations, where one can frequently identify who their owners
or main stockholders are. The democratic credentials of an advocacy
NGO, instead, might be more difficult to prove, if there is not a clearly

defined constituency being represented. Those sorts of actors are obliged
to establish their legitimacy on different grounds. Usually they do it
through discourse, testing their arguments and ideas in a public debate
or through their activities, struggles, and behavior. It is the force of their
arguments, their track record in a certain area, the expertise they have
accumulated on certain issues, rather than their ability to effectively
mirror certain groups, that provides the source of their legitimacy and
credibility.
Advocacy NGOs and other types of actors organized around a trans-
formative agenda rely fundamentally on symbolic capital; thus building
a reputation and living to uphold it is perhaps their most demanding
task. The fact that they are not politically accountable to the citizenry, as
elected representatives are, does not mean that they can simply be obliv-
ious to public beliefs and sentiments. Given that those organizations
fundamentally operate in a domestic and/or transnational public sphere
they inevitably have to accumulate and maintain a significant stock of
symbolic resources that will establish them as credible spokespersons. It
is thus in their best interest to uphold high standards of behavior and to
have a good track record which might help them to establish a solid rep-
utation among their peers and the public at large (Grant and Keohane,
2005: 37; Brown, 2008).
Concluding remarks: From democratic credentials to

bridging mechanisms
Of course, there is always the possibility of NGOs degenerating into cor-

rupt or self-serving organizations. This is a general rule that applies to all
types of organizations, and advocacy NGOs are no exception. As argued,
there are already a number of constraints that might help to avoid this
outcome without at the same time destroying the conditions that make
constituent politics a creative or transformative force. Perhaps we should
redirect the debate on democratic credentials from actors to institu-
tional structures: the issue should not be posed in terms of whether or
not an actor has democratic credentials. Instead we should focus on
the institutional characteristics of those formal spaces that are meant
to mediate between different constituencies and decision-making struc-
tures. This is where the demands for openness, plurality, transparency,
accountability, and so on should be aimed. The issue then becomes how
to incorporate into the institutional design of those arenas norms and
mechanisms that could screen out, or moderate, some of the undesirable
side-effects of constituent and representative politics. The latter, I will

argue, is a more plausible solution, for it avoids the temptation to brand
certain actors as credible and legitimate, which inevitably implies that
there are others who could not have a legitimate voice in democratic
representation.7
In this perspective, the quality of democratic representation largely
depends on the existence of adequate institutional bridges between rep-
resented and representatives that could establish a generalized situation
of political responsiveness. This is not necessarily a call to preserve or
replicate at the global level existing institutional formats. There are
some indications that at the domestic level, traditional bridging mech-
anisms – party systems and parliaments, arenas of interest aggregation,
and accountability agencies – are undergoing significant stress. At the
same time, many democracies are engaging in interesting processes of
institutional experimentation that have resulted in the creation of novel
arenas of encounter between state and society, meant to complement
classic mediating mechanisms (Avritzer, 2008; Seele and Peruzzotti,
2009). These arenas establish permanent and institutionalized spaces,
where public officials and civil society gather to jointly deliberate and
decide on specific policies or issues like health or urban planning. Thus,
they insert civil society actors into the broader polity, reconnecting sec-
tors of the state with civil society and vice versa. This connection is
not an informal one or based in mere lobbying capacity of actors or
organizations (like in pluralist or corporatist schemes), but is the result
of a specific institutional design process that is guided by principles of
publicity, equity, and deliberation.
At the global level, there is also ample room for experimentation,
given that the absence of a global democratic polity inevitably estab-
lishes a highly fragmented structure of plural governance regimes.
Whether it is feasible or desirable to establish electoral democratic insti-
tutions in the absence of a unified demos is an issue that escapes the
intentions of this chapter. Yet, as the abundant literature from author-
itarian transitions shows, it is still possible to conceive of an agenda
of democratization even in situations where there is no democracy.
At this stage of global politics, one would be tempted to describe the
situation as a pure politics of constituents, given the absence of unan-
imously recognized democratic representative structures. The current
challenge at the global level is consequently not how to articulate con-
stituent’s politics with electoral representative institutions; rather, what
is at stake is a politics of multiple constituency management that takes
place in the absence of a unified and legitimate democratic authority.
The notion of stakeholders seems best to capture such a horizontal and

disperse situation: in the absence of an authoritative public structure
that could impose general laws and procedures, we are left with a world
of stakeholders, meaning the existence of a plurality of special law com-
munities that are neither connected with one another by common laws
or institutions nor vertically to a single representative institution.
The question that most of the ‘stakeholder democracy’ arguments
try to answer is that of how to negotiate and regulate the relation-
ships that such a plurality of self-appointed stakeholders establishes
with one another. So far, most of the intellectual energies have been
oriented toward an effort to determine whether individual groups or
actors meet some democratic criteria that would establish them as
legitimate representatives or spokespersons. My intuition is that pro-
cesses of democratization of the global sphere should not focus so
much on this issue of the democratic credentials of transnational actors,
but rather on how to establish and consolidate a plurality of bridg-
ing arenas where different constituencies could meet to exert voice,
influence, deliberate with one another, and eventually assume shared
decision-making responsibilities. The latter is not meant to downplay
the compelling questions that the democratic credentials debate raises,
but simply to redirect part of those legitimate concerns away from
an excessive focus on individual actors to an agenda about institu-
tions and institution-building. If properly designed, bridging arenas
should be able to allow for the unrestricted representation of groups,
interests, and discourses, while at the same time subjecting them to
the democratic imperatives of openness, publicity, deliberation, and
justification.
Notes
1. A good example of such approach is the recent book by Terry Macdonald,
Global Stakeholder Democracy: Power and Representation Beyond Liberal States.
The book’s argument is predicated on the idea of finding a functional equiva-
lent to elections to build the democratic credentials of NGOs. The strategy is
to abstract from the electoral relationship those elements – delegation and
accountability – that in her view constitute the legitimate basis for repre-
sentative agency (Macdonald, 2008: 177, 192). This leads to a search for
non-electoral mechanisms of authorization and accountability that ‘could
potentially be employed to confer democratic legitimacy upon a range of
agents of public power in global politics . . . ’ (193). The premise is that
unelected actors such as advocacy NGOs should satisfy ‘the demands of the
mandate model’ (163), that is, to build democratic credentials NGOs have to
adapt themselves to the exigencies of a mandate model; mandate that in this
case is the outcome of a negotiation of the organization with all of its differ-
ent stakeholders (200). Macdonald even concedes that (at least in principle),
‘a stakeholder community would be entitled to demand that an NGO either
comply with its unilaterally formulated demands or desist from its public
political activity . . . ’ (Macdonald, 2008: 200).
2. The distinction between constitutive and representative politics is taken
from César Montúfar, who develops it in a very suggestive article about the
relationship between participation and representation (Montúfar, 2006).
3. This is also the belief of some strands of democratic elitism which cast many
doubts of the usefulness of elections as a mechanism for signaling voter’s
preferences (Manin et al., 1999).
4. This does not entail that all constituent politics is intrinsically transforma-
tive: a great part of constituent politics is merely an expression of existing
identities and interests. This is the case of the dynamics analyzed by the pres-
sure groups literature that focuses on the lobbying activities of private interest
organizations (Schmitter, 1974; Offe, 1985).
5. This is not to argue that no NGO should be ‘downward accountable.’ This
is a crucial issue for service provider NGOs that claim to best serve certain
social groups. In those cases, the establishment of effective mechanisms of
downward accountability is crucial to test their claims. The same holds true
of organizations that claim to best express or mirror the voice of specifically
defined social groups, be it a neighborhood or a private interest organization.
What I am arguing instead is that democratic representation requires a plu-
ralistic arena of constituent organizations, and that it would be erroneous
to try to steer all constituent politics into a single mirroring logic. A similar
argument could be made in relation to democratic representatives: the good
exercise of political representation requires an important degree of account-
ability but, beyond a certain threshold, accountability becomes detrimental
to political representation for it eliminates the creative dimension of politics
(March and Olsen, 1995; Arato, 2006).
6. The groups that participate in constituent politics are a diverse and heteroge-
neous universe of actors motivated by different sorts of considerations. Some
of them actually entail forms of descriptive representation of constituencies
that can be clearly traced and identified. Other groups act as carriers of new
discourses and identities (Offe, 1984; Melucci, 1996). This latter kind of actor,
like an international advocacy NGO that lacks a clearly defined constituency
can be seen as representing a specific type of discourse. ‘The idea of discursive
representation – Dryzek and Niemeyer argue – provides democratic valida-
tion for the activities of NGOs and other transnational activists’ (Dryzek and
Niemeyer, 2008: 491). Dryzek and Niemeyer, however, propose to formalize
such a discursive representation through the creation of ‘Chamber of Dis-
courses.’ For particular policy issues, they argue, one could identify relevant
discourses on a specific area and simultaneously identify a good representative
of each of them (Dryzek and Niemeyer, 2008: 491). Members of a Chamber of
Discourses will not be selected because they represent constituencies or indi-
viduals (485) but will be the subject of a ‘systematic selection by social science
methods’ (486). The selection of discursive representatives through scientific
or technical criteria entails an aseptic and depoliticized view of the inherently
political nature of constituent politics. Constituent politics are relevant not
just because they can contribute to enhancing the quality of policy-making

processes; rather they constitute the institutionalization of collective learning
processes. Social learning processes are not an abstract deliberative exercise but
an essentially contested and political process: it is not discourses or positions
in the abstract but the particular intermeshing of discourse, rhetoric, concrete
struggles, and a social group’s trajectory and built reputation that provides
democratic validation to actors like advocacy NGOs or social movements. It is
such a peculiar combination of factors that might eventually trigger the mobi-
lization of the convictions of sectors of society on their behalf. The idea of
divorcing the creative dimension of constituent politics from actual forms of
collective action and rights struggles is problematic: a Chamber of Discourses
is an unlikely solution to legitimacy deficits. As Erman (this volume) argues,
what is missing in the Dryzek and Niemeyer proposal is the moment of factual
(not hypothetical) political action, through which a constituency approves of
political authority.
7. This is an issue that always emerges while attempting to implement mech-
anisms of self-regulation, regulation, or of certification. The question that
inevitably arises is: who is to decide what is legitimate or not? (Armstrong,
2006; Golub, 2006; Jordan and van Tuijl, 2008). A similar concern is raised
by Anderson (2008: 10), who worries about the development of a possible
reinforcing dynamic ‘in which civil society offers legitimacy to international
organizations in a notably undemocratic vision of global governance and
takes back recognition, access, and legitimacy in turn.’
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9
Why Adding Democratic Values is
Not Enough for Global Democracy
Eva Erman
Introduction
The social and political space is no longer entirely mapped in terms

of territorial places and borders. What is characteristic of our globaliz-
ing era is the growth of problems that transgress traditional territorial
boundaries and which are no longer addressed by nation-states alone
(Scholte, 2000: 3). In fact, the pace of the political development of gov-
ernance beyond the nation-state after the Second World War is without
parallel in history, with the establishment of international organiza-
tions (IOs) such as the United Nations (UN), the European Commission
(EC), the World Bank, and the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade
(GATT). Up until the beginning of the 1990s, the justification of IOs
was mainly measured in terms of effectiveness and efficiency, but since
then the political climate has drastically changed. After this norma-
tive turn, scholars and practitioners have questioned the idea that the
capacity to deliver effective policies is a sufficient requirement for legit-
imacy. There is wide agreement that international organizations suffer
from a ‘democratic deficit’ and that prospects for democracy beyond
the state need to be addressed in this context. It is argued that there is
too wide a gap between governance as effective and efficient collective
action problem-solving and governance as the democratic legitima-
tion of policy-making. This gap has fueled the debate about making
global governance institutions (GGIs) more democratic by strength-
ening their legitimacy, a demand which has placed civil society and
transnational actors (TNAs) at center stage. Governance has become a
hosting metaphor identifying non-state actors that participate as mobi-
lizing agents broadening and deepening policy understanding beyond
the traditional, exclusivist activities of states and their agents.
173
174 Adding Democratic Values is Not Enough
There has been general dissatisfaction among international relations

theorists and civil society scholars about what normative political
theory has to offer in dealing with questions of global democracy. In par-
ticular, cosmopolitan democratic theory has been under attack, accused
of being too idealistic and detached from reality. Empirically oriented
political scientists urge against drawing on the so-called domestic anal-
ogy, which presumes that democracy beyond the state should take a
similar shape as liberal democracy within the state, and instead call
for more imagination in the conceptualization and operationalization
of democracy on the international political arena (Keohane and Nye,
2003). In this inventive spirit, numerous suggestions for how to rethink
democracy globally and remedy the democratic deficit of international
organizations have been proposed, in which transnational actors should
participate more actively. A common characteristic of this civil society
approach is a focus on how different TNAs – from social movements to
interest groups and NGOs – can and ought to contribute to increased
democratization and to the fostering of democratic transitions globally.
Rather than emphasizing juridical and institutional aspects, it lays stress
upon the ideal of inclusive participation, openness, contestation, and
deliberation. Civil society offers a rich soil for re-formulating democracy
globally since there is a growing range of social actors that create new
political spaces, which are not delimited by territorial nation-state bor-
ders and therefore more suitable for confronting the globalized political
problems that we face today. Another advantage of ascribing a major
role to TNAs in global democracy is that they can do the work of
crosscutting global power relations and hierarchies by giving voice to
marginalized groups and local stakeholders.
This chapter is a theoretical and conceptual contribution to this
debate. Starting from the presumption that we cannot investigate the
democratic credentials of TNAs without studying the political circum-
stances in which they are supposed to contribute to more democracy,
the chapter does not focus on different transnational actors but on their
political context of action and on what democratic role they are ascribed
in global democracy in the recent international relations (IR) literature,
by which I mean the literature that focuses on the democratic deficit
of global governance since the normative turn in the 1990s. The aim
is to examine the conception of democracy in these proposals. More
specifically, I discuss the major tendency within this literature to defend
what I call, for lack of a better term, the additive view of democracy.
If cosmopolitan theory has been the predominant view in normative
political theory and political philosophy, I would say that the additive
Eva Erman 175
view is one of the predominant views, if not the predominant view, in IR

theory today. It is commonly used as a theoretical framework also in the
literature that focuses more exclusively on the democratic credentials of
TNAs, including several contributions to the present volume. According
to the additive view, democracy is defined as a number of core values
or qualities; and a basic presumption is that the more these values are
strengthened or promoted, the more democracy we get. Popular can-
didates for core democratic values are inclusion, deliberation (and/or
contestation), accountability, and transparency.1
The additive view is one way to rethink democracy in light of glob-
alization, i.e., to transfer democracy from the nation-state level to the
global level. The prefix ‘re’ precisely indicates that the aim is still to
conceptualize democracy, not something else. As with any good transla-
tion, its ‘original meaning remains unchanged’ (Goodhart, 2008: 402).
This is often described in analytical terms as a distinction between con-
cept and conception. Conceptions share some central characteristics,
without which they wouldn’t refer to the same concept. So, all concep-
tions of global democracy share some necessary conditions that must
be fulfilled in order to speak about one and the same thing, namely,
democracy. The distinction between concept and conception is a use-
ful analytical tool in political theorizing. It is essential to differentiate
between a general concept of democracy and more specific conceptions,
because if we didn’t, we could neither identify any necessary conditions
or features of democracy, without which we could not compare differ-
ent democratic proposals, nor know when there are enough differences
in our conceptions to arrive at a different concept. As soon as we have
done the latter, we have removed the prefix ‘re’ from the word ‘rethink’
in our analysis. Of course, as acknowledged by Wittgenstein, a bound-
ary of a concept is always bound with its purpose. For scholars engaged
in the debate on global democracy the purpose is to give suggestions for
how to best decrease the democratic deficit on the global level and make
regional and international institutions more democratic. So, while con-
cepts are indeed reformulated and reshaped by their application or use
in discourse, conceptions only belong to the same concept if they share
some characteristics, or, to speak to Wittgenstein, some family resem-
blances (Wittgenstein, 1953: Part I, § 66–71). And different networks
of family resemblances are kept apart in relation to the purpose of the
concept at hand, to make it usable for a specific purpose.
The urge to discuss the additive view is that I find it highly problem-
atic. In particular, I consider it unclear with respect to its democratic
content. The chapter sets out to identify some major pitfalls that ought
to be avoided when theorizing transnational democracy and the legit-

imacy of global governance, as well as when analyzing the democratic
credentials of TNAs. The aim is to critically examine what more exactly
is democratic about the additive proposals and what would be more
appropriately labeled legitimate in some other normative respect. The
term ‘critical’ should not be interpreted as a skeptical or polemical
stance, implying that I do not share the concerns of democracy beyond
the nation-state: Quite the opposite. Critical here alludes to an analytical
and normative-theoretical attitude. We face many different moral and
political problems in our globalized world, but not all of them should
be addressed from a democratic point of view. Political authority could
be legitimized in numerous ways apart from democracy, for example,
through efficiency or fair decision-making procedures. The only con-
clusion to be drawn in this chapter is that we have to spell out the
conceptual conditions of global democracy in order to compare different
proposals for a better global governance and evaluate their normative
credentials, be they democratic, just, or something else. Indeed, just
because we ought to be clear about the difference between democratic
and non-democratic legitimacy, this should not make us blind to other
ways of addressing the illegitimacy of the global political order. On the
contrary, such a clarification might open the door for the obvious but
complex question: if democracy is not the solution, perhaps the demo-
cratic deficit was not the problem to begin with? Without doubt there
are other possible candidates in our present-day world, such as severe
global injustices or extreme inequality.
The argument proceeds in three steps. First I present the main char-
acteristics of the additive view, followed by a few illustrations in the
contemporary IR literature. In a second step, I discuss three conditions
which in my view are necessary (and even sufficient on some accounts)
for the concept of democracy, and analyze them in relation to basic pre-
sumptions of the additive view. Finally, some general remarks are offered
on how the proposed conceptual framework might be useful to discrim-
inate between democratic and non-democratic (but morally justified)
proposals for better global governance, and I point to three alternative
routes forward.
The additive view of democratic global governance
A democratic system consists of two parts, a political authority and a

demos (a people), i.e., a group of people subject to this authority. To
say that, for example, a state has authority is to say that the state and
Eva Erman 177
its subjects have a certain kind of normative relationship.2 In political

philosophy the concept of legitimacy is used to describe the normative
aspects of this relationship. It refers to a rightful authority or a rightful
power-holder. There have been many candidates for how to best ground
rightful authority, for example in associative obligations (Dworkin), in
reasonable consensus (Rawls), or in tacit consent (Locke). However, what
is of interest here is one kind of legitimacy, namely the democratic con-
ception of legitimate authority. Among political theorists it is widely
held that an adequate account of legitimacy requires that a political
authority derives from a rightful source (a ‘people criterion’), through
the principle of popular sovereignty, and that it satisfies some rightful
ends (a ‘performance criterion’).3 Even though the question of how to
best realize the principle of popular sovereignty is highly contested, it is
agreed that democratic legitimacy gets its authorization from the people
(Beetham, 1998). Rule by the people (the government of the people as a
whole) constitutes the very core of the concept of democracy.
These terms are analogous to the terms input and output legitimacy
used in the IR literature. While input legitimacy (the people criterion)
concerns the inclusiveness, deliberation, participation, and accountabil-
ity of the internal decision-making of a political authority in relation to
a constituency, output legitimacy (the performance criterion) concerns
the effectiveness of that authority. Fritz Scharpf (1999) originally used
this distinction in his analysis of the European Union (EU), suggesting
that political decisions are legitimate in the output sense when they
effectively promote the common welfare of the constituency in ques-
tion. In fact, in some policy areas, he claimed, we might envisage the
EU as capable of legitimacy by reference to its output, even if input is
lacking (Scharpf, 1997).
In theorizing about how to re-establish a symmetry between rule-
makers and rule-takers in global political decision-making, additive pro-
ponents often claim that cosmopolitan theorists keep too much of the
Westphalian conception of the state in the translation from nation-state
democracy to global democracy, viz. treating democracy ‘as a system of
collective self-rule realized through elections and representative govern-
ment’ with ‘supremacy within its particular territory’ (Goodhart, 2008:
401). Even if cosmopolitans attempt to rethink sovereignty in functional
rather than territorial terms, they arguably still emphasize elections
and representation and focus on the juridicalization of international
organizations through some idea of an overarching cosmopolitan law
(Held, 2002: 32). By contrast, additive proponents wish to strengthen
input and output legitimacy through the increased involvement of civil
society organizations (CSOs) in order to promote democratic values such

as inclusiveness, participation, deliberation, effectiveness, transparency,
and accountability. As stated above, the core characteristic of the addi-
tive view of global democracy is that it is presumed that the more of
these democratic values are strengthened, the more global democracy.
The term ‘additive’ is a bit unfortunate because it implies a quantitative
element which is not of interest here, i.e., the fact that it incorporates
a certain number of democratic values is not what makes it additive in
the relevant sense. Rather, additive refers to the idea that the strengthen-
ing of a couple of democratic values (whichever they are) leads to more
democracy.
What is further characteristic about the additive view is that it pre-
supposes what I call the separateness thesis. Additive proponents make
use of Scharpf’s distinction between input and output legitimacy in a
very particular way, transferring it from its original context of European
policy-making to the global sphere and treating its two parts as sep-
arate dimensions of legitimacy. The thesis consists in the treatment of
input and output legitimacy as two separate values of governance which
could be more or less successfully operationalized. Even if most scholars
agree that we need both in order to speak about democratic legitimacy,
the presumption is that one dimension could compensate for the lack
or weakness of the other, since they are regarded as detachable. Usu-
ally successful output legitimacy in terms of effective problem solving is
claimed to compensate for very low input legitimacy. But it might also
be the case that multi-dimensional promotion of certain democratic val-
ues (e.g., transparency, publicity, inclusion of stakeholder concerns, and
accountability) are meant to increase both input and output legitimacy –
thus doing a multiple normative work and, so to speak, move freely
between the input and the output category. The thesis states that input
and output are two separable kinds or dimensions of democratic legit-
imacy in the sense that they could involve different subjects (e.g., while
some subjects contribute to increased input through CSOs, others might
gain from the output of IOs). It is precisely this disaggregation which
opens up possibilities for different additive proposals.
Let me give some examples of the additive view. The question of civil
society participation in processes of democratization beyond the nation-
state lies at the heart of the new volume Civil Society Participation in
European and Global Governance, edited by Jens Steffek, Claudia Kissling,
and Patrizia Nanz (2008). The normative starting-point of the project is
that the participation of civil society actors in international organiza-
tions plays a vital part in the democratization beyond the nation-state,
Eva Erman 179
by communicating local stakeholder concerns to global governance

arrangements and contributing to the emergence of a global public
sphere, and as such functioning as a ‘transmission belt’ between a global
citizenry and IOs (Steffek and Nanz, 2008: 3).
In his famous analysis of democracy beyond the nation-state, Robert
Dahl has forcefully argued that international organizations cannot be
democratic. And since ‘ought’ implies ‘can,’ the normative question of
whether global governance should be made more democratic seems to
be the wrong one to raise. There are several reasons for this, accord-
ing to Dahl. One concerns the lack of a demos on the international
level, another concerns the impossibility of popular control over polit-
ical decision-making. The former alludes to the lack of homogeneous
culture or a people, constituting a polity. Dahl asks how it is possible
to define a common public good, a general interest, in a heterogeneous
and fragmented global demos. The latter argument concerns political
influence. Dahl argues that already today, foreign policy decisions are
made by political elites without much input from, or accountability to,
the majority of the citizens. With an enlarged demos citizens’ capacity
to influence policy-making will diminish (Dahl, 1999: 22–25).
While Dahl’s conclusion is to a large extent accurate, Jens Steffek
and Patrizia Nanz maintain that it is only accurate against a particular
yardstick, namely, that of the liberal model of representative democ-
racy transferred to the global sphere. From that point of view, most
scholars agree that future prospects for the democratization of IOs look
more than bleak. Robert Keohane and Joseph Nye argue that, since it
is impossible to identify a global demos in the absence of a political
community no international organizations could ever be democratic
by Dahl’s definition. On the other hand, they show that also within
democratic states, we find examples of procedures to decide on political
matters – e.g., administrative law – which work outside of legislative
bodies and popular assemblies (Keohane and Nye, 2003: 393). Such
an alternative route for global governance is explored by Steffek and
Nanz, who argue that deliberative democracy offers some fruitful tools
in this endeavor. In their view, we don’t need to define a demos in
terms of a certain pre-political homogeneity of the citizens of a polity. A
deliberative democratic view of politics is particularly suited for global
governance precisely because it focuses on the political debate about the
common good rather than the common good as a pre-political interest.
Of course, deliberation is not necessarily democratic. A deliberative
democratic arrangement must ensure that citizens’ interests feed into
the policy-making process and take into consideration the input of
stakeholder concerns (Steffek and Nanz, 2008: 5–6). Acting as a trans-

mission belt between GGIs and a global citizenry, CSOs can ‘push global
governance towards democratization’ by lending a voice to citizens and
make global decision-making more transparent to the wider public. In
order to achieve this, however, CSOs cannot solely act as a second
informal ‘track,’ which is presumed by, for example, Jürgen Habermas’
two-track model of deliberative democracy; their participation must be
institutionalized so that they get formal access to the decision-making
arenas. Any democratization via civil society involvement requires
participation rights for non-state actors and clearly defined rules of col-
laboration, to govern the interaction between CSOs and IOs. Thus, the
former must be acknowledged as ‘legitimate interlocutors in political
debate’ (Steffek and Nanz, 2008: 14).
Steffek and Nanz’s research project sets out to measure the democratic
quality of existing international organizations by way of a normative
yardstick consisting of four criteria or values. I say values because they
are not criteria in a strict sense, since criteria are generally either defined
in binary terms, such that a criterion is or is not fulfilled, or at least
hold a threshold. Here they are gradually coded, that is, the more these
values or qualities are promoted or enforced, the more democratically
legitimate an international organization is. The four values are access
to deliberation, transparency and access to information, responsiveness
to stakeholder concerns, and inclusion of all voices. While transparency
and access to deliberation are preconditions for a deliberative process,
they would not say much about the democratic quality of decision-
making unless citizens’ concerns were adequately reflected in it. Such
responsiveness is not only about justification, defined as ‘giving reasons
for positions taken or proposals made,’ but also about adjustment, for
example, that criticism is not merely acknowledged but also contributes
to the evolution of the debate (Steffek and Nanz, 2008: 11). Finally, the
value of inclusion concerns the promotion of the deliberative ideal of
political equality, according to which the arguments of all people who
are affected by a decision should be included in the process. The authors
focus on the ‘inclusion of arguments, rather than with the inclusion of
individuals,’ although these two issues ‘cannot be separated completely’
(Steffek and Nanz, 2008: 12). They draw on the empirical evidence
that non-state actors are good at triggering transnational public debates
on global governance. In an international context, where we cannot
hope for a demos in terms of a homogeneous constituency à la Dahl,
Steffek and Nanz (2008: 12) claim that this approach has the advan-
tage of leveling out the enormous differences in stakeholder resources,
Eva Erman 181
for example, the adequate means to express their concerns in global

governance.
Under traditional international law, non-state actors did not have any
particular legal status and their participation in IOs was at best informal.
This is now slowly changing. In recent years, partly as a response to the
criticism of the democratic deficits in global governance, there has been
a strong tendency toward increased participation of transnational actors
in global governance, and most IOs have opened up formal and informal
avenues for political participation. Concerned with similar questions as
Steffek and Nanz, Jan Aart Scholte, one of the most prominent schol-
ars on civil society and democracy, has written numerous books on
the role of civil society engagement in the democratization of global
governance. In his view, too, civil society activism offers significant
possibilities to come to terms with the major democratic deficit of inter-
national organizations in an era when the conventional state formula of
democratic legitimacy is not sufficient for expanding global governance
arrangements. In fact, this is already happening. Civil society actors
have increased and continue to increase the democratic accountability
of IOs in several ways, most notably by promoting transparency of global
governance operations; by monitoring global policies and policy-making;
and by pushing for the creation of formal accountability mechanisms to
monitor and control the agencies concerned (Scholte, 2005: 93–8).
As Scholte is quick to point out, this does not mean that civil soci-
ety actors automatically enhance global democracy, or that they are the
only way to make IOs more democratic. But his empirical research shows
that their contribution in this regard is considerable and worth fostering
(Scholte, 2005: 89). To realize more fully their potential as promoters of
democratic legitimacy and accountability, however, several issues need
to be addressed further, for example, that civil society groups open
themselves for criticism, internal accountability, and self-reflexivity
(Scholte, 2005: 106).
While Scholte emphasizes political activism, John Dryzek follows
Steffek and Nanz’s deliberative democratic path and prioritizes dis-
courses and argumentation. In a recent article, Dryzek and Simon
Niemeyer express skepticism of the all-affected principle on the global
level, the way it is theorized by cosmopolitans, since the deliberative
participation of all affected by a collective decision is infeasible. While
democratic theory has been intimately connected to the idea of a well-
bounded demos, authority is increasingly escaping such boundaries.
Therefore, in situations when a well-bounded demos is not possible to
locate, Dryzek and Niemeyer wish to steer away from the traditional
idea of representation defined as the substantive acting for physical oth-

ers, towards what they call discursive representation, i.e., the substantive
acting for others’ arguments via the representation of relevant discourses
(Dryzek and Niemeyer, 2008: 481).
For the present purposes there is no need to go into detail about what
is meant by discourse or how these discourses are supposed to be rep-
resented in a Chamber of Discourses. It is more important to look at
the general democratic features. According to Dryzek and Niemeyer,
the priority of discourses has several democratic advantages. To begin
with, when representing arguments, proportionality becomes irrelevant.
It would even be rational to include a vantage point to which nobody
subscribed, since all relevant discourses should be represented for policy
rationality. There are strong moral reasons for discursive representa-
tion as well. The common liberal argument for representing individuals
draws its normative force from the idea of an autonomous subject capa-
ble of self-government. But this view is fully compatible with the idea
of representing discourses rather than individuals, to the extent that
we do not assign discourses an independent moral standing, but see
them as reducible to the individuals who subscribe to them. Dryzek and
Niemeyer argue that this, in fact, has the advantage of taking seriously
the multiple characters of persons who engage in numerous different
discourses, rather than viewing them as simple unified wholes. To rep-
resent an individual as a whole, on this account, would thus mean to
represent all his or her discourses (Dryzek and Niemeyer, 2008: 482–3).
In sum, a common view in the literature on global democracy and
the democratic deficit of GGIs, which has been exemplified above, is
that different democratic values could decrease this deficit and make
GGIs more democratically legitimate, most notably, by increased access
to deliberation and contestation, the inclusion of all voices and/or
arguments, transparency and publicity, accountability, participation,
responsiveness to stakeholder concerns, and representation (NGOs rep-
resenting a global citizenry). Questions concerning which of these
values are elaborated and how they are defined vary, as we have seen,
between different additive proposals. In the analysis below, this is left
aside and it is assumed that the values proposed by the additive view
are of the right (i.e., democratic) kind. Focus is instead directed to
the theoretical and conceptual architecture of this view, viz., in what
sense it is possible to defend as a view of democracy. Furthermore,
the additive view accommodates a possible trade-off dilemma (too lit-
tle acknowledged among IR scholars), which will also be left out of
the analysis. This dilemma concerns the tensions that might appear
Eva Erman 183
between these different democratic values. For example, widened par-

ticipation might have a negative effect on accountability, or that certain
kinds of representation might have a negative effect on deliberation.
As acknowledged by Keohane and Nye (2003: 391), accountability is
an instrumental value, subject to being traded off against other values
(trade-offs between democratic values will be discussed in the conclud-
ing chapter). For the sake of argument, we can simply assume that
the additive view is able to strike the right balance between suggested
democratic values.
What is wrong with adding democratic values?
In order to critically examine the additive presumptions, I start out

by presenting three conditions which, in my view, are necessary for
democracy on any account (and even sufficient on some accounts). The
literal meaning of democracy is ‘rule by the people,’ and one necessary
condition for the rule by the people is popular self-government (collec-
tive self-determination), i.e., that the people rules over itself (directly
or indirectly) by taking collective decisions about matters of common
concern. Yet, this condition obviously does not stand alone. Another
characteristic which distinguishes democracy from other forms of gov-
ernment, such as dictatorship, monarchy, or aristocracy, is that it is
egalitarian. Everyone who belongs to a democratic political body is
equally (directly or indirectly) involved, and their free and equal partic-
ipation is protected by a system of rights. Thus, a necessary condition is
political equality, i.e., equal political power in decision-making. Thirdly,
democracy is a political system of self-legislation by citizens. This system
requires that those subject to law as its addressees can simultaneously
understand themselves as authors of law. This means that a necessary
condition for democracy is a moment of political ‘bindingness.’
Let us begin with self-government. Additive theorists search for alter-
natives to what they consider the unrealistic cosmopolitan ideals by
avoiding exporting ‘the domestic models of democracy to the global
level’ (Bäckstrand, 2006: 469). The skepticism of using the domestic
analogy in the rethinking of global democracy stems from the idea
that self-government presupposes a ‘domestic model’ that is inseparable
from the Westphalian model of the state. Typical Westphalian character-
istics include a presupposed symmetry among a homogeneous group of
citizens and a political authority, self-rule through a system of elections
and representation, as well as supremacy within a unified territory. As we
have seen, additive theorists dismiss the condition of self-government
because it presupposes, in their view, a homogeneous and pre-political

boundary (Steffek and Nanz) or a well-bounded demos (Dryzek and
Niemeyer), neither of which are feasible on the global level. If global
governance is going to become democratic, Steffek and Nanz argue, it
will not be through elected representatives of a people, representing
a shared identity and a common political culture. Rather, an alterna-
tive view would have to ensure the expression of peoples’ concerns and
the responsiveness of political power through deliberative processes in
which common practical problems are addressed and discussions of the
common good pursued (Steffek and Nanz, 2004: 317–8).
But self-government is not premised on a system of elections con-
nected to a unified territory and/or a homogeneous demos. If a group
of people constitutes a political system that claims to be democratic,
we don’t have to presuppose that they live near one another (territorial
aspect) or are alike (socio-cultural aspect) in order to govern themselves
through egalitarian collective decision-making. The territorial bound-
ary is not the kind of boundary on which self-government is premised.
A people, i.e., a demos, consists (at least) of free and equal members
participating in egalitarian decision-making of some sort, protected by a
system of rights. They govern themselves (bind themselves) via political
equality. Be it a national, regional, or global demos, territorial or non-
territorial, held together by social solidarity or not, it is in this particular
sense that a demos is bounded.4 Whether self-government is best realized
by a unified territory or a unified socio-cultural structure is an empirical,
not a conceptual question.5
The second necessary condition concerns political equality. Even if
it is not a sufficient condition for democracy, free and equal participa-
tion in egalitarian decision-making procedures is indispensable for any
democratic system. It is no coincidence that proponents of the additive
view prefer to talk about stakeholders instead of citizens, for a basic dif-
ference is that stakeholders are not political equals.6 In fact, the whole
point of including civil society organizations in global governance is
that they are supposed to give those stakeholders a voice because they
are not equals in a political sense, i.e., they do not have a secured
equal access to an egalitarian decision-making. Rather, the concept of
stakeholder is workable since it removes the aspect of political equality
from political participation. This goes hand-in-hand with how the all-
affected principle is theorized as well. Among IR scholars devoted to the
additive approach, it is commonly suggested that all possibly affected
by a decision should have a say in its making. For example, according to
Steffek and Nanz (2004: 333), the task of transnational civil society is to
Eva Erman 185
‘give voice to citizens affected by regulations made at the global level.’

Or, according to Karin Bäckstrand (2006: 475), ‘global environmental
threats highlight the need for those affected having a say in defining
and addressing them.’ But political equality is not about having a say in
decision-making, it is about having an equal say (be it through voting,
direct participation, or something else).7 Although additive proposals,
of course, highlight equality as one of the core values or fundamental
principles, this is too broad to do the appropriate theoretical and con-
ceptual work for democracy. Political equality is a specific conception of
equality, which is a necessary condition for the concept of democracy.
Finally, the third necessary condition for democracy is what I referred
to as political bindingness. A democratic system consists of two parts, a
political authority and a citizenry/demos, i.e., a group of people subject
to this authority. To claim that an authority is legitimate is to say that it
has a certain kind of normative relationship with its subjects. As men-
tioned earlier, the concept of legitimacy describes the normative aspects
of this relationship. According to the democratic conception of legiti-
mate authority, a democratic system requires that those subject to a law
(or a political decision) as its addressees can simultaneously understand
themselves as authors of it. So in order for a political authority to uphold
its democratic legitimacy, the people in one way or another (directly
or indirectly) have to give its approval – thereby accepting its deci-
sions as binding. Of course, depending on which democratic model is
favored, this moment of bindingness occurs in different ways, for exam-
ple, by a periodical formal voting procedure on Schumpeter’s account, or
by a combination of formalized deliberative decision-making and con-
tinuous informal opinion- and will-formation on Habermas’ account
(Schumpeter, 1950; Habermas, 1996). The point I want to make is just
that it cannot be hypothetical all the way, so to speak, because then we
are not dealing with democratic theory any more but something else,
for example, moral theory.
There are two interrelated problems involved here for the additive
view. One concerns the moment of bindingness generally, the other
concerns the definition of democratic legitimacy. To begin with, it is
hard to see how the additive approach can accommodate the condi-
tion of bindingness in theorizing about global democracy by focusing
on legitimacy by ‘voice’ rather than by ‘vote.’ Civil society actors are
claimed to have the appropriate kind of strong grassroots links to
engage in the representation and/or expression of local stakeholder con-
cerns (van Rooy, 2004). With such a move from representing ‘who’
to representing ‘what,’ civil society actors get their democratic force
by representing positions, ideas, or discourses rather than individu-

als (Keck, 2004; Charnovitz, 2006; Peruzzotti, 2006). Take Dryzek and
Niemeyer’s discursive global democracy, according to which discourses
rather than individuals should be represented in global governance. It
is far from clear how the inclusion of every possible argument makes
the political decisions binding to subjects. The moment of factual (not
hypothetical) political action, through which a constituency approves
of a political authority, is missing. While an important epistemic dimen-
sion is expressed by the inclusion of marginalized voices and of all
possible arguments, such a dimension alone cannot fill the gap between
the citizenry and the political authority in order to generate democratic
legitimacy. When we say that democracy is ‘government for the people,’
we mean that it exists for the sake of the people and rules in the interest
of the governed. But this is only half the story about democracy. Even a
compassionate dictator could rule in the interest of the governed. And
there is no denying that Plato’s philosopher kings had the interest of the
people at heart. The expression above is short for ‘rule by the people, and
for the people,’ where ‘by’ adds the condition of bindingness.
Now, if the condition of political equality discussed earlier concerned
equal agency, the condition of bindingness concerns actual agency.
The possibility of political agency – which additive theorists elaborate
through improving the possibilities of access, deliberation, and contes-
tation – does not suffice to meet the condition of bindingness, since
it could mean that no one approved of the political authority in prac-
tice. A moment of bindingness has not merely to do with the capacity
of agency, but also of acting agents. For example, if we had a political
system, within which every citizen had a vote but no one ever voted,
it would be absurd to call this system democratic. We rarely give this a
thought since we always suppose that enough people vote.
So while the condition of political bindingness itself does not specify a
threshold, it presupposes that there is such a threshold. Similar phenom-
ena are sometimes labeled the Sorites paradox in analytic philosophy.
The paradox refers to ‘little-by-little’ arguments and to the question of
when, for example, a heap of wheat is a heap. For, if we remove one grain
at a time we cannot tell when it is no longer a heap. Thus, no particular
grain can be identified as making the difference. Still, we know that a few
grains do not make a heap. Although there is a boundary, or threshold,
it is characterized by vagueness. Similarly, the justified threshold for the
number of people necessary to approve of a political authority (directly
or indirectly) to make it democratically legitimate, will probably vary
between different democratic theories. What is argued here is merely
Eva Erman 187
that political bindingness, which harbors a threshold, is a necessary

condition for the concept of democracy.
Secondly, the definition of legitimacy becomes problematic within an
additive analytical framework. As we have seen, different democratic
values are intended to strengthen both input legitimacy and output
legitimacy. On the output side, for example, Karin Bäckstrand (2006:
473) argues that high output legitimacy in terms of effective collec-
tive problem-solving can compensate for low input legitimacy, and thus
democratize by improving ‘the overall quality of the social order.’ In a
similar fashion, addressing the democratic deficit in international eco-
nomic institutions, Ernst Mestmäcker (1994) argues that the enhanced
effectiveness generated by the supranational regulation of transnational
economic exchange represents an important legitimizing function of
supranationalism. In both cases, the fulfillment of the performance cri-
terion is supposed to compensate for the lack of a sufficiently fulfilled
people criterion. On the input side, additive proposals emphasize par-
ticipation, access to deliberation, the inclusion of all voices/arguments,
transparency, and publicity.
To problematize this view we must take a closer look at what the sepa-
rateness thesis consists of. As noted earlier, the basic assumption is that
input and output legitimacy are two separate dimensions of democratic
legitimacy, in the sense that they could refer to different subjects. Even if
the additive view accepts their asymmetrical realization – that one could
more or less compensate for the lack of the other – they are still weighed
equally from a normative point of view. In contrast to the IR literature
before the normative turn of the 1990s, no scholar taking democracy
seriously would today argue that input legitimacy is not important just
because it is difficult to implement in global governance. The advan-
tage of the two dimensions being unconnected, however, is precisely
the fact that they could then be maximally realized in relation to the
political circumstances, lending more democratic legitimacy to global
governance institutions, the more they are promoted. Moreover, since
they are free-standing, the democratic values placed in each category
could move across the input/output border without restraint.
The problem I want to highlight is that the condition of bindingness
does not allow for such an interpretation of legitimacy. The input and
output dimensions cannot be separated, since the people and the polit-
ical authority are coupled together through a normative relationship.
Moreover, they are so in a specific way, which is why the dualism built
into the distinction between input and output as such leads us in the
wrong direction. It would be more appropriate to imagine the input and
output dimensions as two circles placed on top of each other – a picture

which the separateness thesis does not allow for. The subjects within
the input circle are the same subjects as within the output circle.8 So, for
example, when a legitimate political authority performs well and the
output legitimacy is high, this effectiveness is directed to and thus is for
the people (even if others benefit from it as well), that is, to those who
directly or indirectly rule themselves through this very authority. In fact,
output legitimacy, in this sense, is not only something that is directed
to the constituency but rather back to the constituency. This holistic pic-
ture of input and output suggests that not only input is premised on
political equality, but output as well.
Thus, the input side is not relevant to whoever is affected, and the
output side is not relevant to whoever gains by the outcomes, which
the additive view presumes. In their analysis of CSOs as a transmis-
sion belt between international organizations and ‘a global citizenry,’
for example, Steffek and Nanz re-interpret Habermas’ two-track view
of democracy – according to which democracy must consist of formal
deliberative decision-making procedures as well as informal deliberative
processes of opinion and will formation in the public sphere – arguing
that civil society actors should be participants in deliberative decision-
making in a formalized and institutionalized way. So rather than being
part of the wider public, CSOs are supposed to act as intermediary agents
between this public and international organizations (Steffek and Nanz,
2008: 7). However, the authors overlook something fundamental. For
even if there is no denying that the two tracks of formal and infor-
mal deliberation are indispensable for democracy on a Habermasian
account, they cannot be detached and directed to whatever subjects.
In Habermas’ view, the two tracks are supposed to secure a deliberative
democratic decision-making within a legally bounded community – thus
binding the constituency to the political authority via political action in
formal as well as informal decision-making (Habermas, 1996).
As is evident from the discussion of three conditions of democracy,
we need to distinguish questions of justification of democratic bound-
aries from questions of what makes a system democratic. Even if a principle
for justifying democratic boundaries sometimes makes up one part of a
normative democratic theory (e.g., through the all-affected principle),
such a principle alone cannot make up a democratic theory. When
the aim is to define the necessary conditions of democracy, we are
primarily concerned with the latter questions. Concerning the former,
it seems unlikely that democratic theory will have the last word in
the solving of the so-called boundary problem, i.e., the problem that
democracy presupposes a boundary (defining a demos), which itself
Eva Erman 189
cannot be drawn democratically.9 In fact, we probably had better leave

this problem to moral and political philosophers. The debate on global
democracy, to which the additive view as well as this chapter was meant
as a contribution, is preoccupied with the question of how to make the
global political system democratic and decrease the democratic deficit
of IOs. Consequently, in line with any other approach to global democ-
racy, a global ‘demos’ (or global demoi) is already supposed to be at our
disposal. One reason why this global demos is under-theorized in the lit-
erature on global democracy may be that the boundary problem ‘solved’
itself by including ‘all’ (for exceptions, see Näsström, 2003; Bohman,
2007).
Toward a more legitimate global governance
One basic assumption of the additive view is that civil society should
play a central role in the democratization of global governance by
strengthening democratic values such as accountability, access, delib-
eration, transparency, participation, publicity, and responsiveness. This
chapter has tried to show that increased democratic values do not lead
to more democracy. The reason is that they only become democratic
values within a system, which (at least) fulfills the three conditions of self-
government, political equality, and political bindingness.10 This means
that in order to promote the value of democracy beyond the nation-
state, we must promote such a system beyond it too. Indeed, from this
standpoint, there are strong reasons to support Amartya Sen’s (1999: 11)
view that democracy has become a universal value during the twentieth
century.
This conclusion should not make us disillusioned about achieving
better and more legitimate global governance. Neither should it make
us disillusioned concerning global democracy. The proposed conceptual
framework is only meant to be of assistance to discriminate between
democratic and non-democratic (but morally justified) proposals for
better global governance. For in order to know whether we have con-
tributed a novel and fruitful conceptualization of global democracy, we
have to investigate its theoretical and conceptual structure. Otherwise
we cannot compare different democratic proposals and analyze their
democratic credentials. I conclude by exemplifying three possible ways
forward.
First, one could take an alternative normative route, theorizing bet-
ter global governance by way of a justificatory device such as fairness
or accountability. For example, in a recent book, Andreas Föllesdal
(2008) discusses what he labels ‘normative legitimacy’ in multilevel
governance. Normative legitimacy consists of the compliance of deci-

sions with justifiable norms, assurance of such compliance and the
public confirmation of this through popular trustworthiness.11 In this
way, non-democratic governance might be legitimate in an interna-
tional setting where norms are not justified by popular will. Indeed, it
is not difficult to see how the additive view might contribute to such
an approach by lending TNAs a role in pressuring IOs to comply with
norms and thereby increase their public trustworthiness.
Alternatively, for those who wish to keep to the democratic path but
still avoid a world-state, scholars such as Hauke Brunkhorst (2005, 2006)
and Habermas (2006a, 2006b) have suggested that we could to some
extent remedy the democratic deficit of global governance through the
medium of the law. Democratization beyond the nation-state requires
constitutionalization, since this is the only way to realize the free and
equal participation in egalitarian decision-making procedures. In their
view, the coupling together of state and constitution is trapped in an
outdated early modern conception of state sovereignty.12 Global gover-
nance without government is possible through a constitution defined
as a horizontal association of citizens bounded by fundamental rights
that they as free and equal founders mutually grant each other. Choos-
ing this path, TNAs could play a vital role as participants in informal
deliberative processes of opinion and will formation to the extent that
a formal deliberative track is secured as well within a legally bounded
community (for example, the EU).
Finally, we might theorize global democracy by regarding states
rather than individuals as the basic unit of moral concern. From this
perspective, we would want to focus on fulfilling the conditions of
self-government, political equality, and bindingness primarily between
states by improving the institutional structures for intergovernmental
democratic cooperation. If we choose this alternative from the point
of view of civil society engagement, however, the prospects for finding
a suitable role for TNAs in democratic global governance look much
bleaker.
Notes
1. The term is unfortunate because it implies a quantitative element, which is
irrelevant for my argument.
2. Here I only discuss authority in a normative sense (morally legitimate
authority), i.e., not de facto authority. However, this distinction is not
accepted by everyone. As pointed out by Tom Christiano, Hobbes insisted
that any entity capable of functioning as a de facto authority is necessarily
Eva Erman 191
justified and deserves the obedience of the de facto subjects. See Hobbes (1992
[1668]) and Christiano (2008).
3. Of course, how these rightful ends are defined is dependent on which view
of democracy we hold, e.g., whether we defend a procedural approach,
according to which the people themselves define those ends (through an
appropriate procedure), or a substantive approach, in which some of the
ends are of intrinsic value and defined independently of the people. How-
ever, some substantive approaches tend to confuse the question of what
makes a system democratic with the question of what justifies a democratic
system.
4. How we further define the boundaries of a demos, for example, as more
or less ‘well-bounded’ (Dryzek) or more or less ‘homogeneous’ (Steffek and
Nanz), is not of immediate interest here.
5. It seems as if Dahl addresses this question empirically rather than concep-
tually, which is sometimes overlooked by his critics. Indeed, to the extent
that he aimed at a conceptual point about the homogeneity of a demos, he
is simply wrong.
6. Unless, of course, one develops a principle of ‘stakeholder citizenship’ as
a criterion for the democratic inclusion (see, for example, Bauböck, 2007).
Even if this is not a criterion that is itself subject to democratic decision-
making, it is a way of justifying an expansion of a democratic polity and
thus acknowledging the problems that are raised in this chapter. See also
Dahl (1989: Ch. 9).
7. This claim still leaves open the question of whether stakeholders who are
more affected should have more influence in the decision-making process,
which is a common argument. To be of relevance for democracy, also such
proposals must offer a ‘yardstick’ from the point of view of political equal-
ity, i.e., be able to say that those who are equally affected should have an
equal say.
8. Of course, this must be interpreted at an appropriate level of abstraction,
since concrete beings are born, die, and migrate.
9. This is why most political theorists have left this contradiction to be ‘solved’
by history, for example, by letting the democratic project be rescued by the
nation-state, i.e., with set boundaries already in place.
10. Note again that these are only necessary conditions for democracy, not
sufficient conditions on most accounts of democracy.
11. In a similar vein, Allen Buchanan and Robert Keohane have developed a
global public standard for the normative legitimacy of GGIs, which is sup-
posed to provide a basis for principled criticism and reform. See Buchanan
and Keohane (2006); see also Erman and Higgott (2010).
12. For a criticism of Brunkhorst and Habermas and a defense of the idea that
state and constitution necessarily hang together, see Scheuerman (2008,
2009).
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10
Conclusion: Transnational Actors
and Global Democracy
Introduction
This concluding chapter elaborates on the findings of the volume and

raises a number of issues pertaining to normative theorizing on democ-
racy beyond the state. Drawing on the individual chapters, it offers a
comprehensive analysis of the different democratic requirements appli-
cable to different types of transnational actors (TNAs). We discuss the
question of whether different kinds of TNAs necessarily have to be
democratic in the same way and to the same extent. We also pay
attention to potential trade-offs between different democratic values.
Moreover, we analyze the potential roles of TNAs in global democ-
racy, considering formal and informal tracks for linking constituencies
to political authority. One principle underlying much scholarship on
global democracy – including this volume – is the all-affected prin-
ciple. A problem in the contemporary debate, however, is that this
principle is vaguely defined and presupposed rather than problema-
tized and carefully elaborated. In light of the empirical and theoretical
contributions of this volume, we revisit this debate with the aim of
sorting out some of the issues that are in need of further attention.
We also discuss how the market economy may relate to global democ-
racy, an issue highlighted by the prominence of market actors – not
only civil society actors – among the TNAs influencing global gov-
ernance. It is argued that more normative theoretical work needs to
be done in addressing the role of market actors in global democracy.
Finally, after having devoted the whole book to issues of democratic legit-
imacy, we conclude with a brief discussion of other sources of legitimacy
linked to TNAs and global governance, which are in need of further
elaboration.
194
Democratic requirements for different types of TNAs
In order for TNAs to strengthen global democracy, the actors themselves

need some democratic qualities. A global governance arrangement in
which the participating actors lack democratic credentials would hardly
be considered to have democratic legitimacy. However, all types of TNAs
do not necessarily have to meet the same democratic requirements. The
argument that the appropriate form of democratic legitimacy might
vary depending on the character of the actor in question has been put
forward in some previous studies. For example, Weisband and Ebrahim
(2007: 17) identify four different levels of analysis for which differ-
ent accountability concerns are relevant: individual, organization, net-
work, and structure. Ebrahim (2007: 203) further distinguishes between
membership organizations, service organizations, and network organi-
zations, and argues that different accountability mechanisms apply to
these types of NGOs. In this chapter we offer a more comprehensive
analysis of this argument, drawing on the dimensions distinguishing
between different types of TNAs and the different aspects of democratic
legitimacy outlined by Uhlin (Chapter 2). TNAs can be distinguished
based on their principal ideas and motivations (which also define
the transnational public sphere in which they operate), their power
(both extent and form), their degree of politization, and their inter-
nal structure. We will treat each of these dimensions in turn, and relate
them to different aspects of democratic input, throughput, and output
legitimacy.
The motivations of different types of TNAs can be related to instru-
mental as well as normative values. Starting with TNAs driven by
instrumental values, we conclude that existing mechanisms for demo-
cratic control of profit-seeking TNAs, such as TNCs, are insufficient.
Market regulation is the preserve of national governments. There is
a lack of globally binding social, environmental, and financial laws.
Mechanisms of voluntary initiatives and standards such as OECD’s
Guidelines for Multinationals, the Global Reporting Initiative, and the
UN Global Compact (cf. Gregoratti, 2010) lack effective enforcement.
Consumer power is sometimes suggested as a form of check against
TNCs’ abuse of power, but consumer choice is seldom effective. Most
affected stakeholders often lack consumer power, and there is a general
lack of awareness of the activities of TNCs and a lack of alternatives
(Kovach, 2006). Hence, as argued by Fuchs et al. (Chapter 3), TNCs
do not have any input-related democratic legitimacy, and it might in
fact be unrealistic to believe that these actors could derive legitimacy in
196 Conclusion: Transnational Actors and Global Democracy
this way. It seems more pertinent to focus on strengthening throughput

legitimacy in the form of transparency and forms of accountability that
go beyond shareholders to include other stakeholders. Following this
way of reasoning, TNCs should be accountable not only to shareholders,
but also to people significantly affected by their activities. Considering
the power of TNCs, it is reasonable to demand accountability mech-
anisms that enforce sanctions rather than voluntary arrangements. As
concluded by Fuchs et al. (Chapter 3), mechanisms to control corporate
power need to be developed. This will require a higher degree of reg-
ulation of public as well as private governance in which TNCs play a
significant role.
TNAs primarily driven by normative values, including all kinds of
civil society actors, also suffer from input-related deficiencies. As argued
by Pallas (Chapter 5), most NGOs are only accountable to a portion
of their nominal constituency. Large transnational advocacy NGOs may
actually represent their funders rather than the people they claim to rep-
resent. And patterns of inclusion and exclusion in transnational social
movements, as argued by Beauzamy (Chapter 6), tend to reproduce
social hierarchies. As demonstrated by Peruzzotti’s analysis (Chapter
8), however, electoral representation is problematic and often inade-
quate, especially for civil society actors. Instead we might focus on the
non-electoral representation of relevant stakeholders and/or ideas and
the accountability to diverse stakeholders. NGO accountability should
vary depending on political context, mission of NGO, and demands
of different stakeholders (Jordan and van Tuijl, 2006: 5). As argued by
Charnovitz (2006: 41), accountability mechanisms for NGOs should
ideally be voluntary. Civil society organizations (CSOs) can actively cre-
ate accountability systems and enhance their (democratic) legitimacy
(Brown, 2008).
Dominant accountability discourses concerning NGOs, however, tend
to privilege the position of governments and other donors and ignore
less powerful stakeholders. They feature top-down accountability mech-
anisms that are often not in line with the mission and values of
the NGO, and do not address the rights of NGOs to operate. There-
fore many scholars have proposed alternative accountability models,
arguably more appropriate for NGOs. Jordan (2007) suggests a right-
based approach to accountability. This approach challenges NGOs,
trying to create accountability mechanisms, to address questions not
only concerning who their stakeholders are and for what they are
accountable, but also what rights they rely on and what rights they are
trying to realize (Jordan, 2007: 163).
Whereas democratic governments rely on representative legitimacy,

firms typically practice a form of principal-agent accountability. Brown
(2008: 37–8) argues that neither of these accountability models are very
useful for CSOs. Instead he proposes a model of ‘mutual accountabil-
ity,’ understood as a relationship in which all parties are important and
exercise mutual influence. Parties to mutual accountability define shared
values and responsibilities and develop mutual trust. Sanctions are social
and moral rather than political, legal, or economic.
Moving beyond this debate on alternative forms of representation,
Peruzzotti (Chapter 8) distinguishes between, on the one hand, the
traditional ‘mirror’ aspect of representation when actors make claims
seeking to reflect an already existing constituency and, on the other
hand, the ‘creative’ aspect of representation when actors make abstract
and normative claims that do not necessarily reflect existing con-
stituencies. The creative dimension includes activities that challenge a
dominant configuration of interests and try to create new constituen-
cies. This is the character of much civil society activism, and such actors
should not be subject to traditional representative requirements accord-
ing to the ‘mirror’ logic. If they are, the creative dimension, which plays
an important role in democratic politics, might suffer.
Social movements belong to the types of TNAs that make the strongest
claims to input, throughput, and output legitimacy. As argued by
Beauzamy (Chapter 6), many transnational social movements claim
both that their internal organization is democratic and that they con-
tribute to a democratization of global governance. Although having
problems with formal representation, many social movements claim
to give voice to underprivileged and marginalized people and repre-
sent their ideas and interests. The Global Justice Movement, in par-
ticular, has been innovative concerning throughput related aspects of
democracy, including new forms of direct and deliberative democracy.
However, as shown by Beauzamy, when confronting movement prac-
tices with the democratic ideals, a number of tensions and cleavages are
apparent.
Philanthropic foundations, operating as funders in a transnational
civil society sphere, score poorly on input and throughput legitimacy, as
shown by Vogel (Chapter 4). In particular, this kind of actor is typically
characterized by a lack of transparency. To the extent that they can claim
democratic legitimacy, it is in the form of output legitimacy through
the funding of activities aiming at increasing democracy (in global,
national, and local governance). Given the power of the largest (often
US-based) foundations and their significant influence on transnational
civil society campaigns (cf. Chapter 5), it is reasonable to demand more

transparency and accountability to diverse stakeholders.
The diversity of diaspora groups makes it particularly difficult to
make a general assessment of their democratic credentials. As argued
by Kinnvall and Petersson (Chapter 7), the democratic legitimacy of
diaspora groups is highly context dependent. Input and throughput
legitimacy is often lacking or questionable. For most diaspora groups the
most credible claim to democratic legitimacy is probably output-related,
for instance, through contributing to a process of democratization in
their country of origin. Some diaspora groups may also give voice to
previously excluded people in certain global governance contexts.
Although we cannot draw any firm conclusions from the above dis-
cussion, it does open the door for the argument that different kinds of
TNAs do not necessarily have to be democratic in the same way and
to the same extent. Requirements of democratic qualities may differ
between different types of actors. For instance, it seems reasonable to
argue, as we have done, in favor of more self-regulation rather than gov-
ernment control of civil society and, at the same time, be in favor of
more government (and civil society) control rather than self-regulation
of TNCs. Accountability mechanisms appropriate for the market sphere,
for example, might not be helpful on the civil society arena, and some
democratic credentials of civil society actors can hardly be transferred to
the market sphere.
Turning to the power dimension, it is generally argued that the more
powerful an actor is, the more important it is to make arrangements
for democratic control. TNAs which have a significant autonomy-
constraining impact on (groups of) people should be subject to demo-
cratic requirements. In particular, the inclusion of all significantly
affected stakeholders is emphasized. Less powerful actors, which do not
affect people’s living conditions in any significant way, do not have to
be democratic. In line with this reasoning, we should demand that large
resourceful NGOs strengthen their democratic credentials, whereas we
do not have to care so much about small NGOs lacking any signif-
icant political influence. Large TNCs, in particular, should be subject
to democratic requirements as they, arguably, belong to the most pow-
erful TNAs, based on their material resources and mobility – but also
increasingly formal and informal access to global policy-making – and
their exercise of discursive power. As argued by Fuchs et al. (Chapter
3), TNCs frequently take part in both private and public rule-making,
and the democratic legitimacy of these arrangements should be criti-
cally assessed. Philanthropic foundations, especially the major American
foundations, also have considerable influence on global governance, not

least through their capacity to shape the agenda of NGOs they fund, as
demonstrated by Pallas (Chapter 5). Indeed, transnational social move-
ments and diaspora groups may be powerful actors in world politics as
well, but their influence on global governance is typically more diffuse.
Not only is it reasonable to demand that more powerful actors should
be subject to stricter democratic requirements than less powerful actors.
Democratic requirements may also depend on forms of power. TNAs
relying on economic resources (like TNCs and foundations) should be
subject to formal requirements concerning transparency and account-
ability. By contrast, transnational civil society actors which primarily
exercise discursive power should ideally have deliberative qualities.
When determining appropriate democratic requirements for different
types of TNAs, their relative power must be taken into account. It can
be argued that CSOs should not be accountable to the targets of their
campaigns, because these targets are typically far more powerful actors,
like states, IOs, or TNCs (Bendell and Cox, 2006: 114–5). Hence, it is
important to focus not only on actors, but also on the social and politi-
cal systems in which they act. Erman (Chapter 9) moves beyond a focus
on characteristics of TNAs to an analysis of the democratic role TNAs
are ascribed in global governance. Similarly, Peruzzotti (Chapter 8) calls
for a stronger focus on ‘bridging arenas’ and ‘mediated politics’ rather
than democratic credentials of TNAs per se. This focus on the roles TNAs
play in broader institutional structures of global governance is reflected
in the analysis of TNCs by Fuchs et al. (Chapter 3). They emphasize the
activities of TNCs in public and private global governance arrangements
rather than internal actor characteristics, and show that TNCs typically
have much more influence on rule-making than have less resourceful
civil society actors. Hence, it is reasonable to require more mechanisms
for democratic control of TNCs’ activities in global rule-making.
Another dimension in relation to which TNAs differ is the degree of
politicization. One common presumption, which we find reasonable, is
that highly political TNAs, having formal or informal privileged access
to global policy-making, like many big TNCs and NGOs, should have
some input-related democratic legitimacy. This assumption nurtures
from the all affected principle, to be further discussed below, which
plays a crucial role in most contemporary theorizing of global democ-
racy. From this point of view, the question of electoral or non-electoral
representation of stakeholders becomes an important issue when we
deal with formal policy-making. One might argue that the requirements
of democratic representation and accountability should be limited to
purely political actors. In fact, it is often argued that TNAs whose main
focus is not politics should not be subject to democratic demands,
although they should still be transparent. Arguably, this would exclude
TNCs, epistemic communities and service-delivering NGOs – provided
that they do not take part in global policy-making – from democratic
requirements. However, if we understand politics as related to power –
not only in the sense of decision-making within a narrowly defined
political sphere – actors that wield a lot of power and have a fun-
damental impact on the lives of many people should be subject to
tough democratic requirements, even if they are not involved in formal
rule-making.
Focusing on the internal structure of TNAs, a distinction can be made
based on the degree of formal organization. For diffuse networks, like
diaspora groups and social movements, non-electoral representation,
deliberation, and participation in a broad sense could be important
democratic values. For example, ‘mutual accountability’ might be an
appropriate form of throughput legitimacy. Electoral representation and
accountability are not feasible mechanisms within diffuse networks. By
contrast, formal institutions, like NGOs, foundations, and TNCs, might
ideally feature both electoral and non-electoral forms of representation.
Participation in decision-making, for instance, is an important issue
concerning this kind of actor.
While we have suggested that democratic requirements appropriate
for TNAs might justifiably vary depending on, for instance, their moti-
vations, power, and internal structure, there are some aspects of demo-
cratic legitimacy that are relevant for all types of actors. Transparency
is something that we could, and ought to, demand from all kinds of
TNAs (and other actors like states and international organizations, too,
of course). Indeed, transparency can be seen as a necessary condition
for accountability. Organizations whose decision-making processes are
kept secret cannot be held accountable. If relevant stakeholders have no
access to information about a decision-making process, there is no way
they can hold the decision-makers accountable. While a degree of trans-
parency is necessary for realizing other democratic goals, transparency
per se does not make an actor democratic. It is only in combination with
other democratic qualities that transparency increases the democratic
legitimacy of an actor.
The case studies included in this volume show that some aspects of
input and throughput legitimacy are clearly not relevant for some TNAs.
However, assessing all kinds of TNAs based on their democratic out-
put legitimacy, conceptualized as the consequences of their activities
for the democratization of global governance, seems appropriate. As

argued by Uhlin (Chapter 2), conceptualizing output legitimacy in terms
of efficiency or problem-solving capacity is misleading if we are con-
cerned with democratic legitimacy. However, TNAs may gain democratic
legitimacy by strengthening the democratic quality of different gover-
nance arrangements on local and national as well as global levels. Most
TNCs would not claim to have this kind of legitimacy, but many phil-
anthropic foundations, NGOs, social movements, and diaspora groups
do claim democratic output legitimacy. As shown in Vogel’s detailed
analysis of US philanthropy in the Middle East (Chapter 4), founda-
tions sponsor a number of projects aimed at strengthening democracy
and the development of civil society in the region as well as on a
global scale. The advocacy NGOs examined in Pallas’ chapter (Chapter
5) claim to target the World Bank in order to make this global gover-
nance institution more accountable to its stakeholders. Acting as a force
for global democratization is an important aspect of the self-image of
activists within the Global Justice Movement, examined by Beauzamy
(Chapter 6). As demonstrated by Kinnvall and Petersson (Chapter 7),
many diaspora groups claim to struggle for democracy in their home-
land, and strengthen democracy in their host societies and different
global governance arrangements, through the representation of other-
wise marginalized groups. To what extent such claims are well-founded
is an empirical question. Philanthropic foundations might fund projects
paying lip-service to democratic principles without having any real
democratizing effects. The advocacy campaigns by NGOs and social
movements might fail to contribute to the democratization of global
governance. And diaspora groups might contribute to the replacement
of an authoritarian regime with another authoritarian regime. Never-
theless, assessing output legitimacy is important, and this opens up for
a broader analysis of the democratic role of TNAs in global governance at
large, pursued below. First, however, we will consider trade-offs between
different democratic values.
Democratic trade-offs
Achieving all the different input-, output-, and throughput-related

democratic values is not easy. Although some might reinforce each
other – like transparency and accountability, as referred to above –
there might also be tensions and trade-offs between them. Some of
these trade-offs have been noted in the literature (cf. Dingwerth, 2007:
202–3). Here we will elaborate on what we perceive as the most salient
trade-offs, based on the analysis of different types of TNAs treated in this

volume.
As argued by Peruzzotti (Chapter 8), demanding that advocacy NGOs
have representative qualities in line with the ‘mirror logic’ would inhibit
them from playing a democratizing role through the ‘creative’ side of
representation. Such NGOs should not be forced to implement mecha-
nisms for transferring authority from an existing constituency, if they
instead represent values and interests which cannot be traced to any
definitely delineated constituency. They might in fact be involved in
processes, which challenge existing orders and create new constituen-
cies, something that is an essential aspect of any process of democ-
ratization. Hence, concerning advocacy NGOs – and many other civil
society actors, too, we would add – there is a trade-off between represen-
tation (according to the ‘mirror’ logic) and democratic output legitimacy
(understood as the contribution to democratization).
Another trade-off is evident between inclusion and accountability. A
common claim in theories of global democracy is that all (significantly)
affected stakeholders should be included. However, if the stakeholders
who have a right to be included are a very large and diverse group,
accountability becomes problematic. Finding accountability mecha-
nisms that work for a limited set of well-defined stakeholders might
be rather easy, but if the number of stakeholders increases, claims of
accountability become more diffuse. Generally speaking, the larger the
number of stakeholders the weaker accountability is. In practice, being
accountable to everyone often means not being accountable to anyone.
This tension between inclusion and accountability is not easily solved.
Similarly, extensive inclusion may also be an obstacle to genuine
deliberation. It is commonly noted that deliberation works best in small
groups. Improving the quality of deliberation within a TNA is hard to
achieve, at the same time as the TNA is made more inclusive.
Deliberation seems to be particularly prone to tensions with other
democratic values. Beauzamy (Chapter 6) identifies a cleavage between
deliberation and protest action within the Global Justice Movement.
On the one hand, deliberation is a central value for this movement,
and it has indeed been innovative in creating new deliberative arenas;
on the other hand, direct action and protest rallies are key activities for
many activists associated with the movement. The question is if internal
democratic debates or protest actions against political opponents should
be privileged. Coercive and confrontational protest activities do not
go well together with deliberative ideals of communicative action. But
many activists argue that direct activism is needed in order to achieve
social change. Deliberation cannot work in a context of deep structural

inequality, they claim.
Beauzamy (Chapter 6) also identifies a cleavage between different
views of deliberation. From one perspective, deliberation is considered
valuable because of its inherent diversity and pluralism. From another
perspective, deliberation is seen as an instrument to reach consensus.
Hence, some activists within the Global Justice Movement see delib-
eration as valuable per se, whereas others see it as a decision-making
instrument aimed at reaching consensus.
Such trade-offs between different democratic values are evident not
only concerning the democratic credentials of different kinds of TNAs,
but also in a broader context of global governance. In the remaining part
of this chapter we move beyond the focus on the democratic legitimacy
of TNAs per se, in order to examine legitimacy issues in the broader con-
text of global governance in which TNAs act. In doing this, we outline
some implications for normative democratic theory of the findings of
this volume. We start with an inquiry into formal and informal tracks
binding people with political authority in a transnational context.
The formal and informal tracks of democracy
Civil society actors feature prominently among the TNAs analyzed in

this volume. Therefore, it is fruitful to elaborate more on the relation-
ship between civil society and democracy. Civil society generally refers
to the set of institutions and human activity that are located outside
the state or government. It includes, for example, churches, voluntary
associations and social movements, and on some conceptions even fam-
ilies. Contemporary political theorists in different ways try to sort out
and elaborate what role civil society plays, and ought to play, in democ-
racy. Apart from the more formalistic theories of democracy inspired
by Joseph Schumpeter, which tend to define democracy solely in terms
of periodical voting among citizens, civil society activity has almost
become inseparable from the notion of citizenship in democratic the-
orizing. It is widely held that a democratic system cannot uphold its
legitimacy through a formal ‘track’ alone – consisting of formal rep-
resentation, a system of rights, and electoral aggregation binding the
people and the government via a voting procedure – but that an infor-
mal ‘track’ is equally important. Informal public discussions can, for
example, identify social problems that lie outside the agenda of for-
mal politics and bring them into political decision-making, as well
as critically examine political rule-makers and require accountability
(Habermas, 1996: 365). Thus, in democratic theory, citizenship is not

primarily associated with ‘nationality’ but with a normative ideal of
participation in a democratic community. It is argued that the health
of democracy depends as much on its citizens’ participatory qualities as
on its institutional structures.
In recent decades we have witnessed a revitalization of the concept
of civil society in research on democracy beyond the nation-state. One
plausible explanation to this is that, since there is no formal track in
the traditional sense to bind world citizens to global governance insti-
tutions (with a few exceptions) the informal track has received much
more attention. Most often it is presumed that citizens’ political activ-
ity through informal public discussions in the public sphere could, to
some extent, compensate for a lack of formal and legal democratic
structure on the regional and global levels of politics. Moreover, the
political activity taking place on the transnational level is much more
complex and multifaceted, since TNAs by definition cross state bound-
aries. No actor could illustrate this better than diaspora groups, who
transgress boundaries in multiple ways and are even hard to define in
terms of an actor. Indeed, this is why Kinnvall and Petersson (Chapter
7) choose to look at diasporas in terms of practice, i.e., focusing on how
representatives of diaspora communities influence global governance
structures.
As is evident from the contributions to this volume, today’s interna-
tional political scene, consisting of both a growing number of TNAs and
a growing diversity of these actors, has made questions about democ-
racy and democratic legitimacy increasingly urgent. At the same time,
these questions force us to return to the basic conditions of democracy.
When democracy is depicted as a system consisting of a formal and
an informal track, a democratic theory presupposes that they connect
the same subjects, so to speak. That is, for a system to be considered
democratic, the two tracks cannot be detached and directed in whatever
ways. Rather, they are supposed to secure democratic decision-making
within a legally bounded community – thus binding the constituency
(citizenry) to the political authority via political action in formal and
informal ways. This means that the citizens who engage in civil soci-
ety activities to push their government for greater transparency and
accountability should equally possess a formal status as participants
in egalitarian decision-making protected by a system of basic rights.
Accordingly, if this government performs accountably and transpar-
ently, this performance is directed to, and thus is for, the people under
its rule, even if people on the ‘outside’ benefit from it as well. Strictly
speaking, this means that, no matter how many different TNAs are
politically active on the global political scene, and no matter how vital
a global civil society, it is doubtful to what extent this can be said
to increase global democracy, unless a global polity is developed in
tandem.
Looking at the different proposals for making global institutions more
democratic from this theoretical point of view, problems arise that in
our view would gain from being elaborated further. For one, it sheds
new light on the democratic trade-offs discussed earlier. Certainly, trade-
offs between different democratic values are a reality for any democratic
system. But with an eye to the international political arena, in which the
informal and formal tracks are dispersed, some trade-offs seem to give us
no (or very little) guidance as to whether the democratic legitimacy of
global governance institutions is, in fact, strengthened. Moreover, while
some trade-offs are in principle compatible with the basic idea that the
informal and formal political activity in question is coupled to the same
legal subjects, others become more problematic. For example, increased
deliberation at the expense of egalitarian representation would be hard
to justify democratically. We believe that future research would have to
take a closer look at which trade-offs are relevant from a democratic
point of view, and which are better described as being about something
else, for example, about making global governance institutions more
accountable and transparent, or more just. These values have democratic
force within a democratic system, in which legal subjects are tied to their
political authorities via formal and informal pathways.
In light of Erman’s criticism of the tendency to add democratic val-
ues in the attempt to increase global democracy (Chapter 9), political
theorists would have to ask themselves, for example, what through-
put legitimacy can possibly mean in the absence of input legitimacy
and, likewise, what output legitimacy could mean in the absence of
input legitimacy. The problem of separating the formal and informal
tracks in global governance calls for further inquiry into alternative
approaches to democratic legitimacy in a global political context. One
such attempt is made by Peruzotti (Chapter 8), who argues that we
should redirect the question about the democratic credentials of TNAs
from a focus on actors and agency to a focus on institutions. A sim-
ilar conclusion is drawn by Erman (Chapter 9), who claims that we
cannot even investigate the democratic credentials of TNAs without
studying the political role they are supposed to play in a given institu-
tional structure. From this point of view, as acknowledged by Peruzotti,
we had better focus our attention on the institutional characteristics of
those formal and informal spaces that are supposed to mediate between
decision-making bodies and constituencies, in order to find proper
‘institutional bridges’ between them. In fact, all contributions to the
volume, in one way or another, study the political activities of differ-
ent TNAs in different institutional structures rather than as a separate
political phenomenon.
We wish to address two additional problems raised by the theoret-
ical and empirical research of this volume, which should be further
examined in future research on democracy beyond the nation-state.
The first concerns the central role that the all-affected principle plays
in almost all literature on democratic global governance, including the
present volume; the second concerns how democratic theory should
deal with transnational market actors. We address each problem under
separate headings. Indeed, since both problems raise the question of
what normative ideals different suggestions for more democratic global
governance are anchored to, we conclude by saying a few words about
alternative sources of legitimacy.
Global governance and the all-affected principle revisited
An attractive idea in discussions of global democracy is the all-affected

principle. In its general form, this principle states that those who are rel-
evantly affected by a decision should in some sense have influence over
it. Although there are numerous interpretations of this principle present
in the contemporary debate on global governance – for example, spec-
ifying what it means to be affected, who should count as affected in a
non-trivial sense, and so on – the general idea that those who are rel-
evantly affected by a decision should, in some sense, have influence
over it is often explicitly or implicitly presupposed. ‘Affected’ is usually
understood in causal terms, to what extent a decision has a causal effect
on a person’s opportunities, welfare, or something similar (e.g., Held,
1995; Shapiro, 2003). There has been an intense debate concerning the
proper application of the all-affected principle and the problem that
‘the people,’ the demos, is likely to vary for every decision being made,
since different governments will affect different subjects (Whelan, 1983;
Saward, 2000; Scheuerman, 2002; Näsström, 2010). Rather than seeing
this as a defect of the principle, however, some have argued that this
is just a fact of democracy beyond the nation-state, in light of the con-
ditions of globalization (Held, 1995). Judging by this dispute, it seems
to matter whether the all-affected principle is regarded as (part of a)
normative ideal or a method for decision-making.
Without doubt, the all-affected principle has played a fundamental

role in the political struggles for inclusion in the history of democracy.
However, this historical aspect is not of interest here. Rather, we are con-
cerned with its normative status and role as a general principle in today’s
debate on the democratic deficit of global governance and TNAs. With
an eye to TNAs, it is widely held that the more powerful an actor, in
terms of affecting peoples’ basic living conditions, the more democratic
it ought to be. However, on this presumption, the principle seems to be
used to justify the boundaries of the demos rather than specifying under
what conditions a system is considered democratic. Certainly, we do
not suggest that the all-affected principle cannot be part of a normative
democratic ideal. What we claim is, first, that it cannot alone make up
such an ideal; and, second, that it needs to be specified to be applicable
to democratic theory. For it is one particular version of the all-affected
principle that lies at the heart of the concept of democracy, namely,
the idea that those who are subject to a law (or political decision) as
its addressees should simultaneously be made authors of this law, that
is, have an equal say (directly or indirectly) in its making. Thus, in a
democratic context there is a presumed symmetry between rule-makers
and rule-takers anchored to the all-affected principle, which demands
the free and equal participation in egalitarian decision-making proce-
dures, through which people bind themselves to the law or decision in
question.
If we return to the two tracks above, which bind a citizenry to a
political authority, we see that democratic self-rule already presupposes
a bounded political community, in the sense that informal and for-
mal institutional structures must already be in place in order for those
who are subject to a political decision to have an equal say (directly
or indirectly) in its making as free and equal participants in egalitarian
decision-making. One cannot simply presume, as is commonly done,
that, as soon as we deal with global democracy, this problem is solved
(or dissolved), because a global demos includes all human beings by
definition. For, until the proper institutional structures are in place we
cannot speak of a demos in the proper democratic sense of the word,
but only of a possible future demos.
There is another difficulty connected to the use of the all-affected
principle in the literature on TNAs in global governance. As we have
just argued, rather than being equipped to say much about what would
make a system or an actor democratic, the all-affected principle speci-
fies which actors should be included in a global democratic system. But
from the point of view that a democratic system consists of two parts,
a political authority and a citizenry or demos, very little is said about

where TNAs fit into this democratic architecture and why. When we are
concerned with powerful actors, such as TNCs, they are often treated as
a kind of political authority, required to become more democratically
legitimate and accountable to stakeholders. When we are dealing with
politically weaker actors, on the other hand, such as NGOs and diaspora
groups, we are often placing them on the other side of the equation,
among the citizenry who makes claims on, for example, international
organizations. Yet, it is not obvious that any of these TNAs should be
placed on either side, at least not without further argument. We think
that more work needs to be done in studying what democratic role the
all-affected principle plays in this context, and what other normative
roles it plays.
Global democracy and the market
This brings us to the second problem – which is, to some extent, an

illustration of the first, since it concerns one particular kind of TNA –
namely, actors within the market sphere. As several empirical studies
of this book illustrate, such actors increasingly play an important role
in global governance. These TNAs are not government or state actors,
yet not civil society actors either. While the contemporary literature on
democracy and global governance still tends to equate TNAs with civil
society actors, such as NGOs and social movements, we should pay more
attention to those TNAs which are located within the market domain. As
shown by Fuchs et al. (Chapter 3), transnational corporations (TNCs) do
not only cause concern from the point of view of market competition,
but also from the point of view of legitimacy, since they increasingly
affect peoples’ lives all over the world and the international political
system at large. Similarly, as claimed by Vogel (Chapter 4), philanthropy
has a lot of influence over policy in both regional and global contexts.
How should we conceive of the economic domain from a democratic
point of view? Is it part of the civil society, and should it play a role
in global democracy as well, by becoming integrated into the formal
and/or informal track? This question is crucial for any political theorist
who wishes to contribute to the debate on the democratic legitimacy
of global governance. And it becomes even more complex, once we
consider the fact that most TNAs outside of the economic domain are
financed by, and dependent on, economic actors. In light of Pallas’
research (Chapter 5), the role of funding in determining the political
positions of transnational advocacy networks seems hard to neglect.
While the liberal tradition in all its versions has upheld a distinction
between civil society and state, how to get the economic sphere into this
equation has been much contested. For Hegel, civil society consisted of
a network of civil, cultural, and economic activities as well as legal insti-
tutions. Marx, on the other hand, considered civil society to be foremost
an economic society and a class society. In the contemporary debate in
political theory, however, the economic sphere is under-theorized in this
context, located in no man’s land somewhere between or outside civil
society and the state. This needs to be addressed further by normative
political theory in a transnational context. For example, to problematize
the common use of the all-affected principle discussed before – claim-
ing that the more powerful an actor, the more rigid requirements for
democratic control are called for – we might ask whether, for exam-
ple, TNCs ought to become more democratically legitimate at all. The
recent global financial crisis can illustrate this point. Even if people in
the rich part of the world already go about as if everything is back to
‘business as usual,’ we have not yet seen the proportions of social injus-
tices that poor and vulnerable groups and states will have to bear in the
near future because of the global economic crisis. With focus directed
to transnational market actors from the point of view of democracy –
in the search for scapegoats and for people to hold to account – we
implicitly presuppose that business is, and should be, responsible for
our normative ideal of the global common good. But as expressed by
Habermas (2008), politics turns itself into a laughing stock, when it
moralizes instead of relying on the enforceable law of the democratic
legislator. The democratic system is responsible for promoting the com-
mon good, and how transnational ‘market’ actors are supposed to be
connected to such a system needs to be investigated rather than simply
presupposed.
This is yet another example of how the all-affected principle might be
problematic. While the justification for inclusion of actors, according to
this principle, lies in the normative force of affectedness (of affecting
and being affected), how to define and justify this affectedness is itself
a political and perhaps even a democratic question. For example, con-
cerning economic TNAs we might take one step back and ask whether
their power instead should be legally constrained and limited through
regulation, in order to restrict, or at least control, the extent to which
they affect people’s lives and basic interests, rather than immediately
assuming that they ought to be ascribed a democratic role in global gov-
ernance. In order to offer a more fine-grained comparative analysis of
different TNAs in global democratic decision-making, much more work
needs to be done with regard to where exactly economic transnational

‘market’ actors fit into the democratic structure, as well as what kinds of
affectedness are relevant from a democratic point of view, and for what
reasons.
Democratic legitimacy and other sources of legitimacy
Systematic research on TNAs in global governance is relatively new. In

light of what has been said so far, it is evident that TNAs have commonly
been ascribed a role that is often unclear with regard to its democratic
merits in the literature on democracy beyond the nation-state. One rea-
son for this, we argue, is that they have been analyzed within a diffuse
conceptual framework. In order to bring conceptual clarity to what ‘the
rule by the people’ might mean in a global context, both empirical and
theoretical research would gain by carefully distinguishing between the
conceptually necessary conditions for democracy and empirical prerequisites
for democracy. Although conceptual and empirical aspects certainly are
intimately related, they had better be kept apart, if the task is to make
sense of and theorize the role of TNAs in global democracy. Drawing
on this distinction, we can more easily discover alternative sources of
legitimacy, other ways of contributing to ‘better’ global governance.
The concept of citizenship is often said to constitute three elements. It
is regarded as a legal status, defined by civil, political, and social rights; as
a status for political agency; and as membership in a political community
(Cohen, 1999; Carens, 2000). While less has been said about the legal
dimension in a transnational context, political scientists are exploring
alternative venues for political agency and for membership as a sense of
solidarity in the global community. In the absence of a two-track (formal
and informal) bridge between a global demos and international institu-
tions, developing such venues may open up innovative roles for TNAs
in achieving better global governance. Our point is that, through the
distinction above, the normative essence of these different roles could
be more clearly defined.
One way of proceeding would be to push central democratic values
such as transparency, accountability, and participation in ‘through the
back door,’ as it were. On the one hand, we cannot neglect the fact that
global governance institutions most of the time are not bounded by the
people subject to their rule (i.e., a citizenry/demos) – neither through
a formal nor an informal track – and are therefore not democratically
legitimate. On the other hand, even though a formal track remains con-
spicuous by its absence on the global level, we witness a growing web of
politically active and/or influential TNAs, which constitute fragments

of an informal track – a track consisting of public processes of opin-
ion – and will-formation, through which communicative power can
flow from active world ‘citizens’ into institutionalized decision-making
and legislation globally. Indeed, even if these activities cannot increase
the democratic legitimacy of international organizations standing by
themselves, they can push those organizations to advance core values
of democracy. If such requirements were to be met, we might coher-
ently talk about an increased political or normative legitimacy of global
governance institutions.
As has been amply illustrated by different empirical case studies in
this volume, democratic values, such as transparency, accountability,
and participation, might be strengthened in numerous different ways
in global governance. What we mean by getting such values in through
the back door is that, even if they do not fulfill the conceptually neces-
sary conditions for democracy, either standing by themselves or added
together, they might improve the chances of increased democratic
legitimacy by promoting the prerequisites for democracy globally.
Another route to take would be to take a further step away from demo-
cratic theory and look elsewhere for an answer to the question of how
to make global governance institutions more legitimate in a situation
where economic, political, social, and environmental problems increas-
ingly cut across nation-state borders. To be sure, democracy is only one
normative ideal among many. In the present context, what come to
mind primarily as attractive alternative ideals are different approaches
to global justice. This would not necessarily (or even likely) mean that
democracy would become irrelevant: Quite the reverse. In defense of,
say, a theory of global distributive justice, it might reasonably be argued
that democracy as a decision-making method is the most promising
strategy to achieve this goal.
In choosing such an alternative path, political theorists would have to
ask what requirements of justice we can plausibly demand from interna-
tional organizations in order to call them legitimate, and what role TNAs
should play in order to achieve better global governance in this respect.
Indeed, in this context, ‘better’ would not allude to ‘more democratic’
but rather to ‘more morally justified or just.’ Moreover, in cases where
both global justice and democracy are seen as attractive (and even com-
patible) normative ideals, political theorists would have to inquire into
the complex question of how different kinds of moral legitimacy relate
to democratic legitimacy. Would it be acceptable to aspire for a more
just world by way of decreasing democracy? Of course, the answer to
this question would very much depend on what conception of democ-

racy is defended and, of course, what kind of justice is supposed to be
promoted. If we refer to social (distributive) justice, we might presume
that a more equal distribution of primary goods worldwide would pro-
mote the prerequisites for democracy. However, we might equally well
assume, in line with Amartya Sen, that democracy is the best protec-
tion against severe poverty, famine, and human suffering (Sen, 1999; cf.
Agné, 2010).
Indeed, in approaching the problem of the legitimacy of global
governance via some other normative ideal than democracy, political
theorists would redirect their focus from the democratic credentials of
TNAs in global governance to their moral credentials. At the same time,
within a coherent conceptual framework, these credentials, whichever
they are, would at least be clearly spelled out.
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Kovach, H. (2006) ‘Addressing accountability at the global level: The chal-
lenges facing international NGOs,’ in L. Jordan and P. van Tuijl (eds) NGO
Näsström, S. (2010) ‘Democracy counts: Problems of equality in global democ-
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15: 439–57.
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Shapiro, I. (2003) The State of Democratic Theory (Princeton: Princeton University
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and J. Chapman (eds) Liberal Democracy (New York: New York University Press).
Index
Note: page numbers in italics refer to tables in the text
50 Years Is Enough campaign 101 need for 47

non-electoral 25
accountability tensions in the construction of 29,
ambiguity of 126 202
concept analysis 27–30 for transnational NGOs 195
constructivist concerns 28 Aceh 134
and democratic participation 113 additive view of global democracy
Ebrahim and Weisband’s focus assumptions 189
7, 28 and bindingness 185–7
and electoral delegation 160 characteristics 178
exclusion of democratic 29–30 concept analysis 175
focus on procedural critical examination 183–9
in global governance 179 examples 178–83
as instrumental value 183 and legitimacy 185
levels of analysis 195 and political equality 184–5
in philanthropic foundations and Scharpf’s input/output
69–70, 78 distinction 178
post-diaspora Muslim groups and self-government 183–4
144–7 ‘separateness thesis’ 178, 187–8
of private food standards 54 Westphalian argument 177
as socially constructed means of and the Westphalian model 183
control 7, 28 advocacy, and increased
and stakeholders 29 transparency 32
in throughput legitimacy 27–30, advocacy networks 8, 153, 161
105 advocacy NGOs
TNC democratic legitimacy ‘constituency entrepreneurship’
evaluation 46–7, 53–4, 58 163
transnational civil society actors corruption risks 166
and 32 democratic legitimacy of 162–6
transparency as a necessary upward and downward
condition for 58 accountability models 164
upward and downward models see also NGO advocacy in IDA-10
164 advocacy organizations 98–9, 153,
Accountability Charter for 163–4
International Advocacy Aga Khan Foundation 92
NGOs and Networks (IANGO all-affected principle 7, 26, 181, 184,
Charter) 69 188, 194, 206–8, 209
accountability mechanisms America-Israel Public Affairs
elections’ limitations as 157, 165 Committee (AIPAC) 134
and empowerment 28–9 Amnesty International 135–6
literature on 28 Andijon massacre, Uzbekistan 137
214
Index 215
Anti-Defamation League 135 civil society participation, in global

anti-Semitism 135, 140 democratization processes
anti-terror legislation, as attack on 178–81
democracy 137 Civil Society Participation in European
ATTAC 115, 118 and Global Governance
autonomy, degree of 19, 34, (Steffek/Kissling/Nanz) 178
134 Climate Change Conference,
Copenhagen 3–4
Bäckstrand, K. 187 CO2 emissions, reduction proposals
Beckmann, D. 92 55, 57
Bentley, A.F. 159 Cold War foreign policy, and
Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation foundation legitimacy 64
66, 71, 74 Columbian Missionaries 92
Birthright Israel 77 Conservation International 97
Bluestar Operation 136 constituent politics
boomerang theory 94 characteristics of 158–9
Bread for the World 91, 93 variations in composition 160
Brown, D. 6–7 consumer power, as form of check
against TNCs’ abuse of power
Browne, K., Mernissi, F. and 139
195
Brubaker, R. 18, 131, 133, 140
Coutrot, T. 124
Brugvin, T. 116
crop biodiversity, Gates Foundation
Brunkhorst, H. 190
grant for preservation of 74
CSOs (civil society organizations)
Caillé, A. 115 democratic legitimacy 153–5
CARE 91–2, 95, 97 democratization of global
Carlarne, C. and Carlarne, J. 25 governance role 180
Carnegie Corporation of New York
64–5, 74 Dahl, R.A. 85, 179
Carter, S. 130 dam projects, World Bank funding
certification bodies 47, 50, 53 89–90, 95
Cesari, J. 145 degree of autonomy 19, 34, 134
Chambers, S. 31 delegation, state-based democracy’s
Charles Stewart Mott Foundation requirements 85
grants awarded 98–9, 102 deliberation
influence 102 and cleavages in GJM 118–22, 126
initiation of grant recipients’ CSO attention to 118
activities 100 and minority representation 114
MDB reform support 99 proneness to tensions with other
principal-agent relationship democratic values 202–3
99–100 requirements of democratic
Charnovitz, S. 25 arrangements for 179–80
Chechnya 134 in throughput legitimacy 31
The Chronicle of Philanthropy 71, 73 deliberative democracy
Church of Ireland Bishops’ Habermas’ two-track model of
Appeal 92 180, 188
Church World Service 91, 93, 95 requirements 180
civic participation 138, 159 suitability for global governance
civil society, vs political society 24 179
216 Index
Della Porta, D. 123 potentially dysfunctional

DeMars, W. E. 19 connotations 132
democracy Sikh experience 135–6
congenital weaknesses 157 Turkish experience 135, 138
defining the relationship between Uzbek experience 137
legitimacy and 10 and voting rights 135, 138
formal and informal tracks of women’s experience 139
203–6 diaspora groups
literal meaning of 183 characteristics 131
necessary conditions 183, 185–6 core elements 18
democratic legitimacy global importance 16, 134
concept analysis 10, 177 Hizb ut-Tahrir 136, 144
distinctions 22–3 increased focus on 130–1
input vs output 177 influence on public opinion 135
key democratic values 24 organizational strategies 135
literature review 21 political goals 133–4
and other sources of legitimacy as transnational actors 132–4
210–12 diffuse networks, distinctions between
Scharpf’s input/output distinction formal institutional structures
177, 178 and 18
source of authorization 177 Dingwerth, K. 7, 31
typology 23 Direct Action Network (DAN) 120
see also foundation legitimacy; Dryzek, J. and Niemeyer, S. 165,
input legitimacy; normative 181–2
legitimacy; output legitimacy; Dupuis-Déri, F. 113, 120
throughput legitimacy
democratic representation Ebrahim, A. 195
claim-making process 160–1 and Weisband, E. 7, 28, 195
dominant understanding of 156 EDF (Environmental Defense Fund)
elitist model 156–7 89–90, 95, 97–101, 104
the mirror and the creative Edna McConnell Clark
dimension of 160–2 Foundation 73
toward a relational approach Egypt, grants awarded to 72–3
156–60 elections, role of 156
democratic system, consistent parts electoral politics, need for regular
176 transformation 161–2
democratic trade-offs 201–3 Engbersen, G. 142
Development GAP 101 Enlightenment 10, 124
diaspora epistemic communities, definition
as ‘category of practice’ 133 17
definitions 131–2 Erman, E. 104, 205
and democratic legitimacy 138–41 and Uhlin, A. 104, 155
and global governance 134–8 EU (European Union)
and human rights discourses 137, accountability 58
141, 143 democratic legitimacy 177
Kashmiri experience 143–4 Scharpf’s analysis 177
Muslim experience 137, 141 European Commission (EC) 173
Palestinian experience 140 transparency in 57
Index 217
European Foundation Centre and global democracy

Council of Foundations 69 additive view, see additive view of
European Parliament 55–8 global democracy
and the market 208–10
FAVDO (Forum of African GlobalGap
Voluntary Development accountability in 53
Organizations) 94 farmers’ associations’ place 51
50 Years Is Enough campaign 101 governance structure 51
Fleishman, J. L. 68 overview 49
FoE (Friends of the Earth) 89–90, 95, participation in 50–1
97–101, 104 stakeholders 54
Föllesdal, A. 189 transparency in 52
food safety 48–9 global governance
Ford Foundation 65, 73–4, 76, all-affected principle 206–8
78, 79 alternative routes for 179
Forum of Brazilian NGOs 95 challenges to the democratic
foundation legitimacy qualities of 4
criteria for 69 civil society’s role in the
democratization of 189
democratic weakness arguments
diaspora and 134–8
68
and political accountability
Frumkin’s summary 67
179
home vs abroad 70
post-war development 173
Middle Eastern challenges 70
US foundations’ engagement 65
procedural accountability focus 69
global governance institutions
US debate 64–5
(GGIs)
Frumkin, P. 67
grants awarded to 72–3
Fuchs, D. et al. 195
legitimacy strengthening debate
173
Gates Foundation 66, 71, 74 globalization, rethinking democracy
GATT (General Agreement on Tariffs in light of 175
and Trade) 173 global stakeholder democracy,
Gaza/West Bank, grants awarded to Macdonald’s focus 7
72–3 Goldman Fund 73, 76
The Getty 73 good governance principles, in
GJM (Global Justice Movement) cross-border philanthropy
affinity groups 120, 122 accountability documents 69
autonomy in 123 Grant, R. W. and Keohane, R. O.
democracy as an intrinsic 28–9
characteristic of 117–18 Greenpeace 89, 95, 97–8
democratic cleavages and the Green Revolution 65
implementation of democratic
theory 118–21 Habermas, J. 180, 185, 188, 190,
democratic credentials 111 209
direct action initiatives 120 Hammack, D. C. 68
diversity of tactics 121 Hardt, M. and Negri, A. 124
ideology 115–16, 118 Haymarket People’s Fund 67
minority representation 114 hijab, French ban 143
mobilization opportunities 116 Hizb ut-Tahrir 136, 144
218 Index
Holloway, J. 124 Islamic African Relief Agency 92

human rights groups 135 Islamic Conference, Organization of
human rights promotion, foundation the (OIC) 134
funding 70, 75, 77–8, 79 Israel, grants awarded to 72–3
IANGO Charter (Accountability John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur

Charter for International Foundation 74, 76
Advocacy NGOs and Jolie-Pitt Foundation 74
Networks) 69
Jordan, L. and van Tuijl, P. 25
IDA (International Development
Association), replenishment
mechanisms 87 Keck, M. E. 25
see also NGO advocacy in IDA-10 and Sikkink, K. 94
inclusiveness, as criterion of Keohane, R.O.
deliberative democracy 26 Grant, R. W. and 27–30, 166
inclusivity, NGOs’ role 85 and Nye, J. 179, 183
India Key, V.O. 159
dam projects 89, 95, 97–8 Koret Foundation 76
nationalist organizations 133
input legitimacy legitimacy
inclusion 25–6 concept analysis 10
vs output 177 defining the relationship between
representation 24–5 democracy and 10
representivity and inclusivity as in relation to CSOs 6
elements of 104 sources of 22
Interaction 91, 95 see also democratic legitimacy;
Inter-Africa Group 91 foundation legitimacy; input
international grant-making, legitimacy; normative
growth 71 legitimacy; output legitimacy;
international organizations (IOs) throughput legitimacy
civil society actors and the Livingstone, Ken 143
democratic accountability of
Lutheran World Relief 91
181
‘democratic deficit’ 173
measuring the democratic quality of MacArthur Foundation 65, 74, 76
180 Macdonald, T. 7–8
prospects for the democratization of MDB reform, Charles Stewart Mott
179 Foundation’s support for 99
Iran 134 Mercer, C. et al. 138
Irish Missionary Union 92 Mernissi, F. and Browne, K. 139
IRN (International Rivers Network) Mestmäcker, E. 187
89, 95, 101 Middle East, US grant-making in the,
Islam see US grant-making in the Middle
diversity of affiliations 144–5 East
growth of ‘home-made’ versions of Mortgaging the Earth (Rich) 89
142 Mott Foundation, see Charles Stewart
radical 70, 130, 134, 145 Mott Foundation
suitability for taking advantage of MSC (Marine Stewardship Council)
transnationalism 142 49, 51–4
Index 219
Muslim diasporas and transnational main features 19

activism role 163
accountability and democratic Nielsen, W. 67
legitimacy 144–7 Niemeyer, S., Dryzek J. and 25, 165,
federation formation 141 181–2, 184
global governance context non-state actors, importance to global
143–4 governance 16
proliferation of organizations normative legitimacy 189–90
141–2 NOVIB 91
Mutz, D. C. 31 NRDC (Natural Resources Defense
Council) 90, 98, 100, 104
Nanz, P., Steffek J. and 179–80, 184, NWF (National Wildlife Federation)
188 90, 95, 97–100, 104–5
Narmada Bachao Andolan 89, 95, Nyamugasira, W. 163
97, 105 Nye, J., Keohane, R.O. and 179, 183
Nature Conservancy International
97 OIC (Organization of the Islamic
Negri, A., Hardt M. and 124 Conference) 134
New Israel Fund 78 Open Society Institute 65
NGO advocacy in IDA-10 output legitimacy
50 Years Is Enough campaign 101 concerns of 177
background 85–7 debunking 47–8
development organizations 91–2 input vs 177
environmental organizations Oxfam 91, 97
89–91
faith-based organizations 92–3 Pakistan 72–4, 134, 143–4
funding issues Palestine 134
causal relationships 97 participation
Charles Stewart Mott Foundation, distinguishing between the scope
see Charles Stewart Mott and quality of 26
Foundation in GlobalGap 50–1
policy correlation 96–7 in throughput legitimacy 30
policy selection 101–2 TNC democratic legitimacy
stakeholder input 102–4 evaluation 45, 55–7
impact 106 Partnership for Higher Education in
input legitimacy implications 105, Africa 64–5
106 Peruzzotti, E. 24, 25
North-South divisions 94–6 philanthropic foundations
pitfalls of values-based argument as agents of Empire 70
93–4 Arab diaspora trend 70
throughput legitimacy implications asymmetric power 70
104–5 emergent ‘accountability regime’
US Congressional hearings 95 68–9
values and mission 88–9 grant-making operations 71; see
values-based divisions 93 also international
NGOs (non-governmental grant-making; US grant-making
organizations) in the Middle East
accountability mechanisms 195 importance to global governance
lack of accountability 153 16
220 Index
philanthropic foundations – continued Richard and Rhoda Goldman Fund

input and throughput legitimacy 73, 76
scores 68 Risse, T. 15, 19
lack of transparency 67 Rockefeller Foundation 65
legitimacy see foundation Rotary International 73
legitimacy Ruggie, J.G. 66
main concerns 18
Middle Eastern grants awarded Samad, Y. and Sen, K. 142
72 Sarbanes-Oxley Act 68
neglect of in democracy in global Sardar Sarovar 90, 95
governance research 64–6 Saward, M. 161
redistributive effects of charitable Scharpf, F. 177
tax-exemption for 69 Scholte, J. A. 181
stewardship model 80 Seattle, WTO protests 120–1
unwillingness to measure their own Second World War, global
social impact 68 governance development since
see also foundation legitimacy; 173
international grant-making; US Sen, A. 189
grant-making in the Middle East September 11 141
philanthropy, undemocratic Sharia law 134
nature 67 Sheffer, G. 131–2
political parties, self-image 161 Sierra Club 90, 97–8, 100, 104
Population Council 65 Silvestri, S. 146
Porto Alegre, participatory budget of SMOs and democracy
123, 126 affinity groups 113–14
‘Principles of Accountability for contemporary issues overview
International Philanthropy’ 69 111–12
private standards, voluntary minority participation 114–15
nature 49 social groups, indispensability of to
democratic agency 159
Quelle démocratie voulons-nous Caillé social justice 89, 93, 97, 164
115 Sorites paradox 186
Soros Foundation 65
Rabinowitz, A. 67 Soysal, Y. 137
racism, public campaigns against ‘stakeholder democracy’ arguments∗ W
135 168
radical Islam 70, 130, 134, 145 Starhawk 120–2
Rainforest Action Network 97 Steffek, J. and Nanz, P. 179–80, 184,
Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS; 188
the Association of National ‘sunsetting’ 69
Volunteers) 133 sustainable fishery 49
Red Cross 135 Sutton, F. 65
religion 24, 76, 139, 142 Swedish Young Muslim Association
religious groups 131 145
representation, rethinking the concept
of 25 Tabligh-i-jamaat 133, 144
reproductive health 65 terrorism 78, 136
Rich, B. 89 Third World Network 91, 95
Index 221
throughput legitimacy transnational social movements’

accountability 27–30, 105 democratic credentials assessment
deliberation 31 input, throughput, and output
participation 30 legitimacy 125–7
transparency 26–7 shared hopes 123–5
TNAs (transnational actors) transparency
accountability 195–6 evaluation of in decision-making
definitions 8, 17 processes 126
democratic credentials literature in philanthropic foundations
6–8 67–8
democratic requirements for in throughput legitimacy 26–7
different types of 195–201 TNC democratic legitimacy
diaspora groups as form of 18 evaluation 45–6, 52–3,
57–8
dimensions of 17–21
Trocaire 92
distinguishing between types of
Truman, D.B. 159
8, 18
literature on accountability of 28
motivations 195 Uhlin, A. 104, 155, 195
operating spheres 18 Erman E. and 104, 155
UN (United Nations) 135,
power analysis 19–20
173
questions for evaluating democratic
Unilever 49, 51
legitimacy 33
United Nations Foundation 73
representation problems 24
US Catholic Conference of Bishops
typology 195
93
vital role 4
US Conference of Catholic Bishops
TNCs (transnational corporations) 97
Climate Change Conference US grant-making in the Middle East
sponsorship 3 arts projects 77
new political role 43–4 democracy agenda 77–8, 80–1
TNCs’ democratic legitimacy distribution patterns 72–3
evaluation diversity of recipients 75
accountability 46–7, 58 electronic listing 71
global governance 44 funding areas 75–8
participation 45, 55–7 global governance funding
private governance perspective 73–4
49–54 grants awarded 72
in public governance 54–8 political perspective 75–7
transparency 45–6, 57–8 stewardship model 80
tolerant identity 123 universities and research institutes
Toqueville, A. de 77 76
traceability 48–9
transnational advocacy 66 Van Rooy, A. 6–7
transnational social movements van Tuijl, P., Jordan L. and 25
concept analysis 110 Vishwa Hindu Parishad (VHP; World
and democracy, see SMOs and Council of Hindus) 133
democracy voluntary nature of private standards
recurrent issues 112 49
222 Index
‘war on terror’, as a convenient US Treasury proposals for reform

pretext for repressive action 137 90
Weisband, E. World Food Program (UN)
and Ebrahim, A. 7, 28, 195 Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation
Werbner, P. 137 grant 74
foundations’ role 65
WHO (World Health Organization)
World Social Forum 107
65
WWF (World Wildlife Fund) 49, 51,
Wieviorka, M. 112 90–1, 97, 102
Wittgenstein, L. 175
World Bank 65, 95, 173 Yacyreta dam, Argentina 89
NGO advocacy in, see NGO Young Muslims of France Association
advocacy in IDA-10 145

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Legitimacy Beyond the State?

Related titles are:

DEMOCRACY BEYOND THE NATION STATE? TRANSNATIONAL ACTORS AND

Other titles in the series are:

TRANSNATIONAL ACTORS IN GLOBAL GOVERNANCE: Patterns, Explanations

List of Tables vii

List of Abbreviations xiii

Part I Setting the Scene

2 Democratic Legitimacy of Transnational Actors: Mapping

Part II Democratic Credentials of Different

4 Democratic Legitimacy of Philanthropic Foundations: US

5 Good Morals or Good Business? NGO Advocacy and the

6 Transnational Social Movements and Democratic

7 Diaspora Groups, Transnational Activism, and Democratic

Part III Democratic Problems and Possibilities in a

9 Why Adding Democratic Values is Not Enough for Global

10 Conclusion: Transnational Actors and Global Democracy 194

2.1 Democratic legitimacy of transnational actors: Key

This is one in a series of three edited volumes, published simulta-

Agni Kalfagianni is Assistant Professor at the Institute for Environmen-

Catarina Kinnvall is Associate Professor at the Department of Politi-

Christopher L. Pallas is Adjunct Professor in the Graduate Program in

Enrique Peruzzotti is Associate Professor at the Department of Polit-

las Nuevas Democracias (2002). He has also published numerous book

Anders Uhlin is Associate Professor of Political Science at Lund Univer-

ACEA European Automobile Manufacturers Association

ISAF International Security Assistance Force

From 7 to 18 December 2009, Copenhagen was the site of the 15th

people joined a mostly peaceful march toward the suburban conference

springs from democratic theory. How do different types of TNAs

or if they in fact should play different democratic roles in global

Moving beyond previous research on TNAs’ democratic

As noted earlier, there has been an unfortunate division of labor, and

in problematic ways upon their autonomous capacities.’ This means that

Transnational actors, democracy, and democratic legitimacy

participation in global governance is seen as a way to develop global

how best to rethink ‘the rule by the people’ in a globalized world, in

Outline of the book

apply to self- and co-regulatory efforts by TNCs. Instead they argue

Focusing on what is commonly called the ‘Global Justice Movement,’

In Chapter 9, Eva Erman takes a critical look at democracy and

Bexell, M. and U. Mörth (eds) (2010) Democracy and Public-Private Partnerships in

Global governance is not the preserve of states and state-controlled

accountability, participation, and deliberation. The aim is not to estab-

Examining the democratic credentials of TNAs, we need to specify what

Fourth, the degree of autonomy of an actor could be considered an

The literature on the democratic credentials of TNAs is mainly con-

important in order not to privilege one particular model of democracy.

Table 2.1 Democratic legitimacy of transnational actors: Key democratic values

Input legitimacy Throughput legitimacy Output legitimacy

Representation Transparency Democratic consequences

particular), participatory democrats are more concerned with the actual

accountability mechanisms can be used by the weak as well as by the

with accountability in world politics – not democratic accountability.

When examining democratic credentials of TNAs with the overarching

concern. By output legitimacy I do not refer to effectiveness. Increased

Concluding remarks on democratic legitimacy

The analysis of democratic legitimacy can be summed up in a num-

Table 2.2 Questions for evaluating democratic legitimacy of transnational actors

different aspects of democratic legitimacy in a context sensitive way.

Summing up and looking ahead

In an effort to bring some order to the conceptual muddle in the lit-

The following chapters in this volume elaborate further on some of

Ebrahim, A. and E. Weisband (eds) (2007) Global Accountabilities: Participation,