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Development Is Political. Why Does Anyone Pretend Otherwise?

Development experts tend to depict their policy recommendations as technocratic and impartial. That is to say, economic policy and governmental reform, when it has originated from with the development bureaucracy, is often endowed with an apolitical quality. Its proponents will laud such a policy as time-tested, proven, and driven by empirical studies. However, a perceptive eye reveals that development is often, or perhaps always, DEEPLY political and highly influenced by certain ideologies.

Imagine if an organization arrived on the East coast of the US and advertised that it knew exactly how the US should reinvigorate its economy and initiate new growth. It would probably receive more than a few skeptical raised eyebrows from the American populace. Even more, if it suggested its plan was apolitical, something both the Republican and the Democrats might agree upon (simply unimaginable considering the current political climate), there would be furore. Our bitterly partisan politicians would certainly be quick to discern with whom this organization’s ideologies aligned. What’s more, nobody would take this claim of impartiality seriously, seriously undermining the credibility of the organisation as a whole. So why do development organisations maintain this charade?

A peak into development history (and quite a history it is) is quick to yield quite a few examples of this routine deception. “Structural Adjustments” are probably the poster child for policies that rely heavily on certain political and ideological trends. These policies emerged in the 1980’s in an era of neoliberal enthusiasm led by figures like Ronald Reagan and Margret Thatcher. Based on what is now called by prominent development historians (such as Irma Adelman) the “government is evil” school of thought, these structural adjustment programs propagated a variety of liberalizing policies on much of the developing world. At the time, these policies (for example the reduction of barriers to trade, or minimization of state budgets) were sold as necessary steps on the road to development. Of course hindsight indicates otherwise, and it is now quite clear that these policies were more informed by ideology than the sort of impartial reasoning upon which they were sold. For more information on the effects of structural adjustment policies look here.

Recent events further reveal the political nature of development work. It was discovered by the AP that USAID was the mastermind behind a Cuban twitter platform that sought to both stir up unrest among Cuba’s youth as well as gather personal data on the websites users. An explicit hope of the program was to initiate a sort of “Cuban Spring” – or, to put it a little less gracefully, regime change. Such a program is not that unlike many other ill-fated foreign policy moves by the US, but the fact that the operation was funded by USAID might be a bit more surprising. The American consciousness is more likely to associate the USAID logo with a selfless humanitarian and his bags of disaster relief food aid (the sort of “beneficent” charity work that often brands development more generally) than with diplomats or military strategists. Americans simply do not see aid as a mere “carrot” among various sticks in the diplomat’s political toolbox, but stories like this belie that reality.

We can see the political influences on development organizations themselves, rather than their policies, through recent news concerning World Vision. A major evangelical development organization, World Vision, announced last week a policy change that would allow the organization to hire employees in same-sex marriages, and then promptly rescinded it following outrage from quite a few of its supporters. Here we see the globally contentious issue of gay rights impacting the bureaucratic procedures of World Vision, mechanisms which are often assumed to be crafted with only the efficient execution of development work in mind. Again, it is clear politics pervades development, even into the realm of internal organizational matters.

In short, politics is an inevitable part of the development industry. Though we may try to separate our policy recommendations from the cultural biases, economic ideologies, and power relations of our respective nations, we have a remarkably poor history of doing so.

So why is it then that the politics of development is so rarely given its due as a condition that profoundly affects the way in which policy is executed?

A few issues may be at work here. For one, the development industry generally seems to be plagued by a chronic lack of controversy. That is not to say that we do not have our debates, often even with raised voices (did anyone else see that Twitter battle between Sachs and Mwenda!?). However, the “business of doing good” is often protected from necessary scepticism because of its good intentions, especially from the critiques of external voices. I suppose no one wants to be the critic of the hard working humanitarian [Ed: except Bill Easterly and his tyrannical experts].

Second, while the professionalization of development has its perks, the new(ish) infrastructure to educate and train practitioners has only further veiled the political nature of this work. There are hundreds of schools across the globe, in major international hubs, as well as tiny colleges (like the one I attend), that offer degrees in Development Economics or Studies. While this can lead to a better informed and highly professional development practitioner base, it also augments our capacity within the industry to make our recommendations appear impartial and empirically grounded. Our supposed authority as experts and technocrats finds new life thanks to our various development degrees and certificates.

This post does not intend to be a call to action, as I see no way development may be depoliticized.

Rather what is necessary is an industry-wide paradigm shift to a mindset which recognizes the highly political nature of our work. When public policy comes up around the dinner table at a family reunion, I take each Aunt or Uncle’s policy recommendations with a grain of salt, keeping in mind their respective political ideologies, not to mention my own. Especially candid family members often announce their party affiliations before descending into awkward, and vaguely confrontational debate. Development “experts,” on the other hand, must only announce their various credentials, their numerous degrees, or their hard-earned experience elsewhere to gain entrance into the highest echelon of policy circles abroad and to speak with an almost unquestioned authority once within.

I do not believe it is unreasonable to hold development experts, in the very least, to the same degree of scrutiny one might apply to a casual family meal. Let’s face it, Uncle George, I love you, but we will never agree on issues of American public policy….. we probably shouldn’t on development policy either.

(Final Note: Read James Ferguson, “The Anti-Politics Machine” if you want to know more about the ways in which development work is obscured from its political and ideological roots!)

 

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Outside the colonial town hall, with its peeling white paint and general decay , something very peculiar is happening. It is a characteristically roasting hot day and two black men dressed completely in white are carrying what appears to be a smoking human head on a red velvet plate. One of the men is wearing a tall, busby-style hat which a fellow bystander reliably informs me is made entirely of human hair. Before long, the head-shaped object is placed on the floor and a soft but quick rhythmic drum beat begins. Further groups of white-clad men and women join in and, as the beat increases in volume, they move faster and more vigorously.

The men are from the santeria religion, a merge between West African spiritual groups and Roman Catholicism, and the event is the Fiesta del Feugo, an annual festival carried out in Santiago de Cuba to celebrate Caribbean and Latin American culture. This particular exhibition of Afro-Caribbean culture would soon be joined by Mexican mariachi bands, Brazilian salsa groups and, naturally, a dozen different dance, music and spiritual groups from across the extraordinarily diverse island of Cuba.

This display of celebration belies the well-known mantra within the country: ‘el cubano no vive, el cubano sobrevive’. The Cuban doesn’t live, the Cuban simply survives. In fact, all across Cuba – festival or no festival – the idea that they do not live seems far-removed from reality. From the rum-sipping youths on Havana’s malecon to the Cienfuegos bars releasing melodic trova ballads into the air, the country appears entrenched in a constant mood of festivity.

These celebrations are often a façade for the real tribulations faced by so many Cubans, albeit a façade far greater than in any other Latin American country I have visited. The reality is that Cuba is falling apart, not just economically but politically, and the culture is increasingly the only thing holding the cracks together.

The Revolution is in its 54th year, a fact of which Cubans are reminded every day through regular TV announcements and billboards smothered with propaganda. It was a revolution which saw hundreds of thousands flee to America, the establishment of Marxist-Leninist regime and the relinquishment of property, a policy which the state has only recently began to retreat on. The outcome of this has been a state synonymous with hand-outs, authoritarianism and dependence.

The revolution did come with some highly publicised success stories which continue today. Cuba is second only to Argentina in Latin American literacy rates and the state maintains 10% of spending on education. In 2006, a Newsnight special report concluded that the country’s renowned healthcare system – which produces similar health statistics to its great antagonist, the United States – is one of the few reasons the Castro regime continues to be on top.

But these successes are beginning to wane as a wider picture of Cuban development emerges. It is one of a state which is complacent and not bothered by the finer details, typified by the attitude of “you may not have text-books, but at least you’re at school”. More worrying for the regime are the views of the young in Cuba. Experiencing the wonders, and inequalities, created by Raul Castro’s ‘mini-capitalism’, they are increasingly disenchanted with the revolution.

Jesus, a young, underemployed taxi driver from Santiago de Cuba, is anxious at first but, after a couple of minutes, begins to reel out tales of gross incompetency from the regime. When I tell him that Cuba has a remarkable reputation in healthcare he reminds me that doctors are paid around 20 Cuban Convertible Pesos (CUC) – about £15 – a month and that no matter how many doctors they have, no matter how professional their prognosis, it appears that they only ever have one medication to prescribe. He throws me a packet of brown pills before sticking up his middle finger and saying ‘fuck the politics’. He smiles:

“Five years ago, I would’ve gone to jail for saying that to a tourist.”

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Cuba is still officially a socialist state, but the growing inequalities are only too clear to see. One of Havana’s exclusive nightclubs charges 10CUC entry (half a doctors salary) and is filled with the sunglass-wearing, young middle-class. These are the lucky few in Cuba; the children of the military, the musicians, the entrepreneurs manipulating Cuba’s new opportunities.

Cuba has, incredibly, become a country where a busker can earn far more than a teacher or a doctor.

For the rest of Cuba, dependence remains. It is, however, an increasingly unsustainable dependence which is hindering any productive development in the country. State subsidies continue, but food still costs too much. Aid for the most vulnerable is still handed out, but it is increasingly less. We heard one story of a man whose house was destroyed by Hurricane Sandy who was given 500g of screws to build a new one, but little else. Socialist rhetoric is still rife, but Cuba’s Gini coefficient rose from 0.21 in the late 1980’s to 0.42 a decade later.

Cuba’s young did not live through the indignities of the pre-Revolution. For many years Cuban’s have lived in the belief that although things might not be perfect, they are certainly better than they were. Now, the youth want change from what they have always known. The system is imperfect and the vibrant spirit which has always sustained Cuba is no longer enough. They want the shoes, the car and the lifestyle to go with it. With small increases in economic mobility emerging, Cubans no longer want to survive-they want to live.

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Experiences, Platform

Culture Holding Cuba Together, But For How Long?

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