Neoextractivism and social conflicts
Explaining repressive government responses to popular consultations in Colombia
Zsófia Kelemen 12216755
Supervisor: Mike Medeiros Second Reader: Dr. Abbey Steele
July 2019
Table of content
1. Introduction……… 4.
2. Literature review……… 6.
2.1 Extractivism and development………. 6.
2.2 Neoextractivism………... 9.
2.3 Democracy and constructive conflict management..………... 17.
2.4 Social Conflict………. 21.
2.5 State responsiveness, state repression……….. 25.
3. Mining, social conflicts, and popular consultations in Colombia………….. 29.
4. Methodology……….. 39.
5. Analysis……….. 40.
5.1 The economic importance of neoextractivism………. 41.
5.2 The influence of elites……….. 45.
5.3 Institutional tensions……… 48.
5.4 The armed conflict………... 50.
6. Conclusion………. 54.
Abstract
This research discusses the dynamics of social conflicts related to the recent upsurge of neoextractivism in Latin America. The commodity boom of the early 2000s led to a significant expansion of extractive operations, which also amplified social conflicts around these activities. However, it has been repeatedly observed that neoextractivist governments tend to adopt a repressive approach to these social movements. In Colombia, popular consultations became an increasingly used mechanism of participatory democracy to challenge the extractive policies of the government, especially industrial mining. However, the government systematically undermined these initiatives through discursive, legal, and physical measures in order to repress the social movements. Through the case of Colombia, this paper aims to identify the main factors that influence the government to repress social movements. Based on the analysis of qualitative interviews and secondary data, it is argued that the government’s decision to repress and its chosen methods are driven by the economic influence of the extractive sector and the private investors, the role of elite groups, the institutional disputes, and the context of the armed conflict.
1. Introduction
Development models based on the extraction of non-renewable natural resources have long been criticised for their controversial nature. They have been associated with lower levels of economic growth, rent-seeking, and violent conflicts. However, certain governments continue to rely on the extraction of these high value resources to promote economic growth and development (Gelb 1988; Collier 2007; Gylfason, Herbertsson, and Zoega 1999; Sachs, Warner 2001). The most recent upsurge in these activities is related to the commodity boom of the early 2000’s, which led to the emergence of a new model in Latin America, called neoextractivism. Under this model, the state is involved in the promotion of the extractive sector in order to generate revenues, which can be used for social and development projects. Even though this approach emphasises equitable, environmentally conscious, and sustainable development, the introduction of this model have resulted in various protests and civil society movements across Latin America. What is more controversial, however, is the recurrent observation that neoextractivist governments tend to respond to these social conflicts with repressive measures (Lang, Mokrani 2013 62, 74-79; Gudynas 2010 1, 12; Dietz, Engels 2017, 112; Hogenboom 2013, 149-152; Raftopoulos 2017; Bebbington, 2012; Bebington, Bury 2013). In order to eliminate opposition to the extractive sector, they rely on a combination of delegitimizing and criminalising discourses, and legal and coercive measures (Gudynas 2010, 12; Bebbington 2012, 9; Bebbington, Bury 2013, 181, 281). As a result, when it comes to social conflicts, the interests of the extractive companies are unproportionally protected in comparison to the interests of the local population (Veltmeyer 2013, 88; Svampa 2015). These observations are rather contradictory given that the state is meant to be promoting extractivist development model in order to benefit the nation and its citizens.
The literature mentions various possible explanations to this phenomenon such as the influence of a state-industry alliance and rent-seeking elites. Some scholars also consider that the opposing development visions play an important role in the repression of social movements, and the state resorts to oppression because these mobilisations threaten the national resource-sovereignty, and state’s legitimacy by questioning this development model (Lang, Mokrani 2013, 75-79; Veltmeyer 2013; Raftopoulos 2017; Svampa 2015; Gudynas 2010; Burchardt Dietz 2014). However, despite these recurrent observations, there is no coherent study up to date to explain this state behaviour in detail. In order to generate a more profound
understanding and explore potential explanations for repressive state behaviours in extractivist regimes, this essay analyses the case of Colombia from 2002 onwards.
Colombia is the largest coal exporter of Latin America, whose mining and energy sector represents over half of its exports, and 67% of the foreign direct investment in 2010 (McNeish 2017, 1140; Sankey 2018, 64; Departamento Nacional de Planeación 2018, 188). The government have been actively committed to the promotion of the mining sector as a “development locomotive”, which resulted in an unprecedented expansion of the mining areas and a simultaneous rise of social conflicts related to these activities (Departamento Nacional de Planeación 2010, 582). Since 2013 popular consultations (consulta popular, municipal level referendum) became the most commonly used legal mechanisms for the civil society to challenge the extractivist development model, which brought more harm than good to Colombia’s rural population and environment (McNeish 2017; Dietz 2018; Acosta, Roa Avendaño, and Roa García 2017). However, despite the fact that consulta popular is a constitutionally granted and legally binding mechanism of participatory democracy, the relevant authorities failed to respect these votes. (Movimiento Nacional Ambiental 2019 3-10). Certain state institutions and officials took discursive, legal, and physical measures to repress the social movements. After a series of legal disputes, the Constitutional Court overturned its previous rulings, and declared that popular consultations cannot be used to question extractive projects, given that the state is the owner of the subsoil (El Espectador 2019 a; Movimiento Nacional Ambiental, 2019. 4-6). As a result, the citizens lost one of the most important democratic tools which allowed them to challenge the decisions of the central authorities through legal means. Such a change is especially important in the Colombian context for two reasons.
First, it contradicts basic principles of the 1991 Constitution, which introduced decentralisation and participatory mechanisms in order to promote democratisation in Colombia. Consequently, the decision of the Constitutional Court did not only reverse its own decision about the legality of the popular consultations, but went against the very principles of the Constitution that it is meant to uphold and protect. (Movimiento Nacional Ambiental 2019, 6; Dietz 2018, 10; McNeish 2017, 1142). Secondly, mining conflicts and the repression of citizen participation are especially sensitive topics given that political exclusion and territorial issues were among the main causes of the Colombian armed conflict, which lasted over half a century, claimed 261.619 lives and left 7.7 million displaced (Centro Nacional de Memoria Histórica 2018; UNHCR 2018). Therefore, the Colombian central authorities’ unwillingness
to address the demands of the mining-related social conflicts, and the decision to reverse the legality of the popular consultations on this matter is highly controversial.
By analysing these controversial dynamics, this research paper aims to identify ‘Which factors influenced the central governments responses to the mining related popular consultations in Colombia?’ in order to contribute to the current understanding of the neoextractivist social conflicts. The paper starts with the discussion of the literature and the conceptual framework which focuses on the key concepts of extractivism, neoextractivism, social conflicts, participatory democracy and state repression. Then the context of Colombia is described regarding the recent expansion of the mining sector, the importance of popular consultations, and the evolution of the legal debate about their legality. After, the methodology is described in detail which is followed by the presentation and the analysis of the findings. Lastly, the findings of the analysis are discussed in a closing chapter.
2. Literature review, conceptual framework
2.1. Extractivism and development
In order to talk about mining related social conflicts, government responses and popular consultations, it is necessary to start with the clarification of extractivism. Extractivism1 can be broadly defined as “mode of accumulation” through “activities which remove large quantities of natural resources that are not processed (or processed only to a limited degree), especially for export” (Lang, Mokrani 2013, 62; Gudynas 2010, 1). While such a broad understanding captures the core mechanism of extractivism, the definition used by Dietz and Engels (2017, 112) adds a crucial detail, namely that accumulation is pursued “as a national, growth-oriented development pathway”. For the purpose of this research it is crucial to include these features in the definition of extractivism as they make it explicit that the objective of accumulation is to generate economic growth, which should serve to fuel the development of the nation as a
1 Extractivism in the broader sense refers to the removal and commercialisation of large quantities of non- renewable, as well as renewable resources, such as agricultural products, forests, or fishing (Acosta, Roa Avendaño, and Roa García 2017, 4). However, in this essay it will be used to refer to subterranean non-renewable resources, especially minerals.
whole (Svampa 2015, 67-68). Therefore, the definition of extractivism used in this essay will limit itself to democratic, capitalist states.
The core mechanism of extractivism, the exploitation and commerce of raw materials, is a centuries-old phenomenon that has been an important driving force of international trade, colonisation, and the formulation of the capitalist economy. In this sense, the appropriation, transformation, and commodification of nature for the purposes of human interest is far from being a new phenomenon (Lang, Mokrani 2013, 62, 117; de Castro, Hogenboom, and Baud 2016, 29-30; Bebbington, Bury 2013, 27-66). However, extractivism as a national policy aims to foster development by transforming natural resources into economic growth through the export of raw materials, which implies that it is inherently dependent on the global market, more specifically on the international demand for commodities (Gudynas 2010; Lang, Mokrani 2013; Svampa 2015, 70-72).
Advocates of extractivism generally emphasize natural endowments, comparative advantage, “economic opportunities” (Svampa 2015, 67-68) and readily available resources that “do not need to be produced, but only extracted“ (Badeeb, Lean, and Clark 2017, 124). Such arguments are based on the commercial value of natural resources, which provides economic advantages to those countries which ‘happened to be’ established in territories with rich lands and mineral or oil reserves in comparison to those that have none. Non-renewable resource abundance is especially lucrative in this sense as non-renewables can generate higher revenues than any other resource (Badeeb, Lean, and Clark 2017, 124). Due to these characteristics, various scholars have argued that extractivism based development visions are inseparable from the capitalist paradigm, which equates ‘progress’ and ‘development’ with the accumulation of capital and the expansion of productive, profit generating activities (Canterbury 2018, 4; Svampa 2015, 70; Acosta, Roa Avendaño, and Roa García 2017, 5; Gudynas 2010, 10). Canterbury (2018, 3), even goes to say that “resource extraction is the constant in the journey of capitalist development, since nature supplies the material conditions of human existence. [...] It is from nature that raw materials are extracted and converted into commodities for human consumption.”
According to the economic and development theories of the 60’s and 70’s, natural resources natural resources were seen as catalysers of growth based on the experiences of early industrialising nations like Great Britain, the United States and France (Badeeb, Lean, and Clark 2017, 124). Rostow (1959) in his influential work, ‘The Stages of Economic Growth’, for instance, argued that natural resource abundance is an important precondition for economic
success as they create production and trade opportunities, foster capital accumulation and industrialisation. However, by the late 1980’s it became apparent that several resource abundant countries have been unable to develop through extractivism or continue to develop at a slower rate than those with few natural endowments (Gebl 1988; Gylfason, Herbertsson, and Zoega 1999; Sachs, Warner 2001). This phenomenon, which came to be known as the ‘resource curse’, also known as the ‘paradox of plenty’, produced an important change in the understanding of natural resources relation to development. Policymakers and scholars have proposed various mechanisms to explain how resource abundance can inhibit growth. While initially economic explanations were more dominant, nowadays it is commonly accepted that the ‘resource curse’ also has strong roots in political and institutional factors2 (Collier 2007; Badeeb, Lean, and Clark 2017; Bebbington, Bury 2013, 6-8, 255; Lang, Mokrani 2013, 65-69; Veltmeyer 2013, 86-87).
Even though there is no consensus regarding the mechanisms of the resource curse, the literature suggests that resource wealth is not determinant of economic failure and malfunctioning political institutions. This gave hope for resource rich developing countries that the pitfalls of resource dependence can be overcome with the help of ‘good institutions’ and ‘responsible economic management’. As Ha-Joon Chang (2011) shows, these conclusions coincided with the rise of institutional economics in the 1990’s which resulted in a new understanding that ‘good institutions’ are the key for economic growth and development. While this seemingly promotes more diverse approaches to development than the dominant theories of the 60-70’s, Chang (2011) argues that the institutional emphasis in policy making was another step towards the consolidation of the global free market economy as only those institutions were promoted “which are seen as maximizing market freedom and protecting private property rights most strongly“ (Chang 2011, 474). This new development paradigm is closely linked to the Washington Consensus, to the neoliberal market reforms3, which several
2 The most commonly proposed economic mechanisms relate to the Dutch disease, the volatility of the commodity prices, the lack of economic diversification, economic mismanagement, and the enclave nature of the extractive industries which generate significantly fewer employment and multiplier effects than expected (Gelb 1988; Gylfason, Herbertsson, and Zoega 1999; Sachs, Warner 2011; Bebbington, Bury 2013, 255; Lang, Mokrani 2013, 65-69). Regarding the political mechanisms, rent seeking, corruption, economic mismanagement, weak institutions, and conflicts over the control of resources are the most recurrent issues in resource dependent economies that erode the benefits of resource abundance (Collier 2007; Bebbington, Bury 2013, 6-8; Badeeb, Lean, and Clark 2017; Veltmeyer 2013, 86-87).
developing countries implemented due to the pressures of international organisations or as part of loan conditionalities (Canterbury 2018, 15; López-Vértiz 2014; Lang, Mokrani 2013, 22-23). Resource dependent countries were also encouraged to liberalise their economies and welcome foreign investors in order to maximise their benefits (World Bank 2002; World Bank 2011). However, as Chang (2011) argues, assigning such an importance to liberal market institutions in generating development is overly simplistic and highly problematic, as it assumes that maximising market freedoms will inevitably lead to growth and development.
Despite the abundant criticism, the economic logic of extractivism has not gone through a significant transformation in the past decades. The export of primary commodities remains the most important mechanisms for wealth generation under an extractivist model (Gudynas 2010; Lang, Mokrani 2013, 20). In addition to which, extractivist states aim to boost development through the attraction of (foreign) private investment, the creation of employment opportunities, and the multiplier effects through the extractive industries backward and forward linkages with other economic sectors (World Bank 2002; World Bank 2011; Bebbington 2012, 16-18).
2.2 Neoextractivism
The biggest change in the extractivist model occurred with the emergence of neoextractivism in the early 21st century, which is differentiated from previous extraction based development models due to the revival of the “developmental state” (Burchardt, Dietz 2014, 470), whose role is to provide a regulatory regime and promote the extractive sector in order to generate revenues, and use these for the financing of social programs. According to the definition of Henry Veltmeyer (2013, 82) neoextractivism entails:
“A reliance on foreign direct investment in the natural resource sector and the export of natural resources in primary commodity form [...] designed to ensure a more equitable sharing of the resource wealth”.
3 The neoliberal restructuring sought to increase the Latin American economies’ integration into the global market by promoting economic liberalisation, deregulation, and privatisation, by reducing the state’s influence on the economy, and encouraging private investment flows. Such an arrangement was expected to stimulate economic growth by encouraging a more efficient allocation of resources through maximising the freedom of private businesses (Bebbington, Bury 2013, 43-45).
This concerns social development program as well as environmental protection. In addition, the emergence of neoextractivism was also characterised by the rapid expansion in the scale and intensity of extractive operations (Gudynas 2010; Veltmeyer 2013, 82; Svampa 2015). Neoextractivism became particularly characteristic to Latin America due to a combination of international market dynamics and regional or country specific factors. Concerning the dynamics of the international economy, scholars commonly highlight the importance of the early 2000’s commodity boom, which increased the attractiveness of resource-based development policies. The high demand for raw material is primarily explained by the growth of emerging economies (particularly China) that led to a significant increase in international commodity prices. This was also accompanied by the “surge of “resource-seeking” foreign investment in fossil fuels and minerals” (Sankey 2018, 53), which likewise contributed to the attractiveness of extractivism (Veltmeyer 2013, 79; Bebbington, Bury 2013, 40, 271-272; Svampa 2015, 67; Hogenboom 2012, 134). In addition Bebbington and Bury (2013, 39-42), and López-Vértiz (2014, 152-157) both draw attention to the fact that the 2000’s commodity boom was also embedded in a larger process of the ‘neoliberal turn’ which increased international capital mobility and market freedoms more than ever before (see footnote 3), and facilitated the external demand for the “reprimarisation of Latin American economies” (Svampa 2015, 65).
Regarding the region specific factors, it is worth noting that the opportunities of the commodity boom were especially attractive for resource rich countries in Latin America due to the 80’s lost decade’ and the consequent accumulation of foreign debt in the 90’s4(Svampa 215, 76; Gudynas 2010, 12; Acosta, Roa Avendaño, and Roa García 2017, 3). However, the consolidation of neoextractivism is most commonly tied to the emergence of the so called ‘new-left’ in Latin American politics. By the 1990’s the failures of neoliberalism5 created favourable
4 The majority of Latin American countries experienced a profound economic crisis in the 1980’s that came to be known as the ‘lost decade’. In order to overcome the recession, several countries borrowed from the International Monetary Fund and implemented neoliberal structural adjustment programs as part of the loan conditionality (Bebbington, Bury 2013, 43-45). Hence, the commodity boom of the early 2000’s was especially attractive opportunity for resource rich countries to reduce their international debts (Acosta, Roa Avendaño, and Roa García 2017, 3).
5 The neoliberal policies became a subject of heavy criticism soon after their implementation as they failed to bring the expected outcomes and even increased poverty and inequalities in some cases. In addition, the model was also criticised for weakening the state too much for the advantage of the market actors, which negatively affected national sovereignty (Burchardt, Dietz 2017, 470; Hogenboom 2012, 149).
conditions for political change, which led to the election of various progressive, and leftist governments. Neoextractivism was consolidated in this anti-neoliberal political atmosphere as a development model which responds to the popular demands for a stronger state and an increased emphasis on social policies. Due to these circumstances, neoextractivism is often described as a policy choice particular to the ‘new-left’ (Gudynas 2010; Burchardt, Dietz 2014, 470; Hogenboom 2012).
Despite the influence of this ‘left-turn’ in politics, various scholars have argued that there is neither a uniform policy amongst leftist governments, nor can neoextractivism be described as a uniquely ‘leftist’ phenomenon (Veltmeyer 2013, 83-85; Lang, Mokrani 2013, 23-27; Bebbington, Bury 2013, 273- 274; Canterbury 2018, 64-64; Martínez- Alier, Walter 2016, 79). Based on an extensive study on extractivism in Ecuador, Bolivia and Peru, Bebbington (2012, 201) for instance finds that “extractive policies of leftist and post-neoliberal governments don’t differ significantly from neoliberal states”. Similarly, Svampa (2015, 66) observes that the neoextractivist development model was equally embraced by “progressive governments, which question the neoliberal consensus”, as well as by “governments that continue to deepen a neoliberal, conservative political framework”. According to Veltmeyer (2013, 84) such a variation can be attributed to the fact that extractivism and the inflow of foreign investment was an attractive development policy in all resource abundant countries regardless of the governments political ideology. In addition, Hogenboom 2012, 144) also observes that the state’s increased influence in the economy was also a result of the high commodity prices, which supports the argument that neoliberalism is not limited to the ‘new-left. Therefore, it is more accurate to describe neoextractivism as a development model that “cuts across regime types” (Veltmeyer 2013, 83).
The increased role of the state is a common characteristic in all variations of neoextractivism. This feature is particularly important in the construction of neoextractivism as a viable development model, as the state takes on the role of 1) providing a regulatory regime to mitigate the negative effects of natural resource extraction; 2) capturing a bigger share of the extractive revenues, 3) and directing a part of these revenues into the financing of social programs and development initiatives, as well as for the mitigation of environmental damages (Veltmeyer 2013, 87; Hogenboom 2012 144; Gudynas 2010) According to Canterbury (2018, 31) this implies a more state-led approach to development than the market-led propositions of neoliberal policies. What is more important, however, is that by fulfilling these functions, a neoextractivist state creates significant legitimacy for the extractive sector as
a key facilitator of poverty reduction and equitable development, instead of contributing to economic growth only. This direct link between the extraction of natural resources and the promotion of ‘development’ also justifies the state’s support for the extractive industry, and allows the state to call itself progressive (Burchardt, Dietz 2014, 470-471; Gudynas 2010, 8-12; Svampa 2015, 70-71). In this sense, the legitimacy of the state and the extractive sector mutually reinforce each other within the neoextractivist development narrative.
Another characteristic of this development model is the promotion of large-scale, industrial operations in order to maximise profits, and the benefits of the commodity boom. This implies that transnational mining corporations are essential for the neoextractivist model given that the extraction of non-renewable resources requires significant capital investments (Svampa 2015, 66-67; Veltmeyer 2013; López-Vértiz 2014). Besides the large financial returns, industrial projects are also portrayed as more ‘responsible’ in some cases, based on the idea that regulatory standards can be enforced more easily of a few large extraction sites and large multinational corporations than on artisanal mining, for instance (Bebbington 2012, 119-124; Bebbington, Bury 2013, 123). As a result, the majority of neoextractivist governments maintain a high degree of openness towards foreign investment, arguing that a welcoming attitude towards investors helps to realise the national objectives, hence it does not harm the state’s sovereignty (Bebbington 2012, 114-115; Bebbington, Bury 2013, 46, 69; Veltmeyer 2013; López-Vértiz 2014).
Given that this reliance on large scale operations and foreign investment coincided with the abundance of “resource-seeking investment” (Sankey 2018, 53; Veltmeyer 2013, 84) the implementation of neoextractivism led to a rapid increase in extraction activities both in term of scale and territory, the upsurge of foreign investment in the mining and energy sector in all cases (Svampa 2015 66-67, Raftopoulos 2017, 388; Lang, Mokrani 2013, 69). While these activities increased the government revenues, it is also evident that they manifest the continuation of certain aspects of neoliberalism, which continue to cause problems (Bebbington 2012, 128).
Due to these characteristics, the most prevalent criticism of the neoextractivist model is that it perpetuates a capitalist approach to development. It has been argued that it implies the deepening of neoliberalism by promoting the reliance on foreign capital (Veltmeyer 2013; Gudynas 2010, 3-5, 12; Svampa 2015). In addition, critiques often emphasise that neoextractivism- extractivism in any form actually- is incompatible with sustainable development due to the tension between sustainability and profitability (Andreucci Kallis 2013,
100). Large-scale extractivism is inherently destructive of the nature, and that the reliance on non-renewable resources can never form the base of a truly sustainable development policy (Acosta, Roa Avendaño, and Roa García 2017, 3; Svampa 2015 71; Canterbury 2018, 17; Burchardt, Dietz 2014, 476). As Alberto Acosta put it, under such a model “environmental destruction is accepted as the inevitable cost of achieving development” (Lang, Mokrani 2013, 62). Therefore, neoextractivism has been described by its critics as a model “of bad development” (Svampa 2015, 71), “accumulation by dispossession” (Harvey 2004 in Lang, Mokrani 2013, 92), “extractive imperialism” (Veltmeyer 2013), “a mechanism of colonial and neocolonial plunder and appropriation” (Lang, Mokrani 2013, 62), and “in essence, predatory” (translation by the author) (Acosta, Roa Avendaño, and Roa García 2017, 5).
While neoextractivist governments argue that the environmental damages can be mitigated with the help of sufficient regulations and the reinvestment of revenues into environmental protection, this assumption can be problematic. It has been observed in different contexts that the need to generate revenues can undermine the state’s commitment to environmental regulations, social policies, and human rights (Acosta, Roa Avendaño, and Roa García 2017, 3; Bebbington 2012, 91; Burchardt, Dietz 2014, 475; Raftopoulos 2017). Also, the argument of a ‘successful regulatory framework’ presupposes the ability of the state to establish and effectively enforce regulations on the extractive industry, which is often not the case in a developing context. Limited institutional and regulatory capacity, and the lacking state presence in certain territories continue to pose challenges to the effective regulation of the extractive industries (Bebbington 2012, 60-62; Canterbury 2018, 56). Moreover, the dependence on transnational corporations also weakens the state’s bargaining position vis a vi these corporations (Burchardt, Dietz 2014, 475; Svampa 2015, 67).
As a result of these shortcomings, the rapid and unprecedented expansion of the extractive frontiers was followed by the emergence popular mobilisations and protests in several neoextractivist regimes (Bebbington, Bury 2013; Bebbington 2012; Gudynas 2010; Svampa 2015, 68-70; Martínez-Alier, Walter 2016; Raftopoulos 2017, 387-389). On the one hand, these movements were motivated by the unmet expectations that the neoextractivist development model created. On the other hand, they are understood as a direct response to the high environmental, social and economic costs that was imposed on the territories of resource extraction. Social and territorial dynamics were disrupted, the extractive industries remained insufficiently regulated, and the affected population often didn’t receive sufficient compensation. Therefore, these conflicts also articulate demands that push for the
democratisation of environmental and resource governance (Dietz, Engels 2017; Bebbington 2012; Bebbington, Bury 2013; Martínez-Alier, Walter 2016; Svampa 2015).
What is more puzzling, however, is the recurrent observation that neoextractivist regimes tend to protect the interests of extractive industry in these conflicts at the expense of the civil society, and that they often respond to these social demands by repressive measures (Gudynas 2010; Bebbington 2012, 114-129; Veltmeyer 2013, 88-90; Bebbington, Bury 2013; Hogenboom 2013, 150-152; Svampa 2015; Raftopoulos 2017, 388-390). Bebbington and Bury (2013, 122), for instance, describes how the Ecuadorian government under Rafael Correa devoted considerable effort to the delegitimization of social movements that criticised the extractive sector through state discourses and legal actions, in order to promote the expansion of the extractive sector. When discussing the case of Peru, Bebbington (2012, 104) concludes that the state’s response to the social conflicts “has been to intensify political repression”. Similarly, Hogenboom (2013, 149-152) finds that the new-leftist governments in Ecuador, Venezuela and Bolivia deliberately tried to weaken civil society organisations and responded to their demands with “closed doors and intimidations, and also repression”. In some cases, even the armed forces were employed to protect the extractive corporations and to intimidate of protestors (Bebbington, Bury 2013, 226; Raftopoulos 2017, 388; Veltmeyer 2013, 89). In this sense, violence to cut the protests, courts to weaken the activists, presidential discourses to promote extraction and delegitimize social movements are all strategies of repression that neoextractivist governments have used against the citizens whose interests the development model supposedly represents (Bebbington, Bury 2013, 281; ).
Such reactions are contradictory for multiple reasons. First of all, it goes against the norms of democratic governance to respond with repression to democratically and peacefully expressed demands. As the literature highlights, this could lead to the further escalation of the conflicts, and hurt the legitimacy of the ruling coalition (Davenport 2007, 10-11; Young 2002). Second, it contradicts the aim of neoextractivism, which is to benefit especially those disadvantaged and marginalised sectors of the society who are expressing their demands.
The neoextractivist literature offers some explanations to these controversial government responses. The most often mentioned ones are the state-industry alliance, the power of the extractive corporations, the rejection of alternative development visions, the influence of elite groups, and the need to protect the government’s and the neoextractivist model’s legitimacy (Veltmeyer 2013, 88-89; Bebbington 2012, 122; Gudynas 2010; Svampa 2015). Bebbington (2012, 104), for instance, argues that the repression of social movements
largely reflects “the desire of companies, the central government, and sectors of the local elite alike to pursue a quick-fix approach to guaranteeing hugely profitable extractive activity”. This argument resembles the findings of Veltmeyer (2013, 88-90) that the shared economic interest of the government and the private sector motivate the repression of opposition movements. Similarly, Raftopoulos (2017, 387) also demonstrates that the willingness of the state “to override their commitment to human and environmental rights” is motivated by the pursuit of economic growth and development via neoextractivism. Although, Bebbington (2012, 104) claims that repressive measures can also be motivated by the need to protect political stability, given that governments tend to perceive social movements and conflicts and potentially destabilising and destructive.
Gudynas (2010, 11-12) shares this view to some extent, and argues that neoextractivist governments ignore social demands and repress opposition movements partly to protect the development model and partly to defend their own legitimacy and power position, which is tied to the success of the extractive sector. In this sense, the financing of social programs with extractive revenues is a key element. It allows the government to justify the suppression of movements which criticise the neoextractivist model and portray them as opponents of progress or national development (Gudynas 2010, 8-12).
Bebbington (2012, 114-115) and Andreucci and Kallis (2017) also highlight the importance of repressing ‘local’ interests for the sake of promoting the ‘national’ interest. However, instead of seeing repression as a tool to advance neoextractivist policies, Andreucci and Kallis (2017) build on Foucault's concepts of governmentality and biopower6 to argue that repression is endogenous to extractivim. Given that extractivism functions with highly unequal distribution of costs and benefits, it becomes necessary to eliminate “potentially destabilising critiques” (Andreucci, Kallis 2017, 102). They demonstrate that ‘othering’ is an essential part of this process which allows the government to suspend its obligation to protect the citizens and justifies repression and violence against certain sectors or groups for the sake of protecting the national interest (Andreucci, Kallis 2017, 97-100). Raftopoulos (2017, 391-392) also
6 Governmentality refers to “a shift from authoritarian, direct forms of rule—what Foucault calls ‘sovereign power’—to “a more diffuse form of power through which an increasingly administrative, bureaucratic state came to manage its population and resources by employing a new set of savoirs or rationalities (such as statistics), which enabled an unprecedented degree of control and surveillance over individual lives” (Andreucci, Kallis 2017, 96) “Biopolitical governmentality seeks to enhance the productivity and controllability of the population through improving its overall wellbeing.” However, Continuation of footnote 6: in this form of control “the exercise of ‘sovereign’ power often appears to prevail” (Andreucci, Kallis 2017, 97).
provides evidence from a human rights perspective that the neoextractivist model itself promotes the prioritisation of economic growth over the protection of environmental and human rights. In this sense, demands for the protection of environmental and human rights can be seen as the local interests which need to be suppressed in order to promote neoextractivist development, which is seen as the national interest.
Some scholars understand the incompatibility of local and national interests in terms of conflicting development visions. Svampa (2015, 70-72), for instance, argues that the dominance of extraction based development visions are a result of a hegemonic view of development that equates progress with the accumulation of wealth, and the expansion of production and consumption. In her understanding, neoextractivist states find it necessary to suppress social conflicts that threaten the extractive model in order “to limit collective resistance and close off the possibility for considering other notions of development” (Svampa 2015, 67). Eduardo Gudynas in Lang and Mokrani (2013, 22-33) also demonstrates that despite the evolving debate on development and modernity, the capitalist vision of development prevails as a dominant approach.
Bebbington and Bury (2013, 245-246) also agree that a dominant resource-based vision of development exist, however, they argue that the political and economic elites7 play a significant role in perpetuating this vision. This is visible, for instance, on the discourses that protect the neoextractivist model. When it comes to dealing with social movements, the governments often portray extractivism as the only viable alternative, and discard other proposals as ‘unproductive’ or ‘anti-development’ (Bebington, Bury 2013, 251-253; Dietz 2019, 515). In this sense, the discourse about ‘national interest’ can also become a tool that these elites use to undermine opposition to extractivism. As Bebbington and Bury (2013, 71-88) argue, nation is an ‘imagined community’ that “requires constant reproduction” to establish the desired patterns of in- and exclusion. Therefore, it is important to keep in mind that the interests of more powerful groups are likely to be unproportionally represented by the so called ‘national interest’. This is also why Burchardt and Dietz (2014, 476-477) emphasise the influence of rent-seeking and elites on neoextractivist policies. They mention, for instance, that the financing social policies can be partially seen as an attempt of the political elites to maintain
7 Elites refer to “groups of individuals that due to their economic resources, expertise/knowledge, social networks, or positions in political or other organizations stand in a privileged position to influence in a formal or informal way decisions and practices with key social and environmental implications” (Bull 2015, 18 in de Castro, Hogenboom, and Baud 2016, 138).
their legitimacy and protect the extractivist model at the same time. By maintaining the control of the extractive sector they also guarantee their own rent-seeking position, which they often maintain through corruption, patronage and clientelistic networks. Repression becomes a viable tool in such an elite-dominated context, when these methods are not sufficient to pacify competing demands any more.
While researchers tend to focus on elite-society relations, Bull and Mariel Aguilar-Støen (in de Castro, Hogenboom and Baud 2016, 145-149) also highlight the influence of inter-elite conflicts. They demonstrate that conflicting relations between political- and economic, as well as old and new elites groups also shape the dynamics of resource governance. Moreover, in the context of the global economic integration, the ‘national interest’ is also shaped by powerful international actors such as transnational corporations, international financial institutions, and the working of the global economy in general (de Castro, Hogenboom, and Baud 2016, 141-143; López-Vértiz 2014; Svampa 2015; Veltmeyer 2013; Bebbington 2012, 129).
These findings give important insights into the dynamics of conflicts and power in the extractive sector, and reveal crucial details that could explain the recurrence of repressive government reactions to social movements. They confirm that the state’s and the extractive industry’s shared economic interests, the power of the extractive corporations, the rejection of alternative development visions, the influence of elite groups, and the need to protect the government’s and the neoextractivist model’s legitimacy are all influential on why social movements are repressed. However, neither of the above mentioned authors give a detailed explanation to why repression becomes the preferred method to deal with opposition, when negotiation and other constructive methods of reconciliation are also available. Given that up to date, no comprehensive study has been conducted to explore these seemingly contradictory dynamics, this essay will build on the findings of the above presented literature and complement these with insights from scholarly literature on the relation of (participatory) democracy and conflict resolution (2.3), on social conflicts (2.4), and on state responsiveness and state repression (2.5). This will allow a more comprehensive understanding of how social conflicts function in a democracy, how they affect governance, and how they are perceived by the state.
In order to gain a detailed understanding of extracitivst social conflicts, it is necessary to describe the functioning of democracies in general, given that these conflicts take place in a democratic setting and rely on democratic participatory mechanisms (popular consultation) to express their demands. Democracy as a political system is defined by its participatory and representative nature, its fair and open mechanisms of competition for public offices, institutional checks and balances, adherence to the rule of law, and the reliance on institutions that facilitate political decision making which leads to policies that reflect the public interest (Schmitter, Karl 1991). These features are meant to reflect and guarantee equality, justice and liberty, which are the guiding values of democracy. Hence, in theory, democratic institutions are designed to create mechanisms for cooperative problem solving in order to constructively synthesize diverse interests, and to facilitate decision making based on the input of all citizens. As Iris Marion Young (2002) demonstrates, such an arrangement is based on the idea that inclusion and deliberative decision making result in the most optimum and just outcomes that will benefit the whole society (Young 17-18). Hence, popular sovereignty is a defining aspect of the democratic state.
Talking about the ‘state’ refers to the system of governance, including all of its laws, institutions, and mechanisms that are meant to guarantee these democratic values in practice. An ‘ideal’ democratic state acts in the interests of its citizens and guarantees and protects their rights, such as human rights, civil liberties or property rights. It is expected to provide public goods to all of its citizens, guarantee their safety, and ensure equal opportunities (Binzer Hobolt, Klemmensen 2008, 309). While the “monopoly on the legitimate use of coercion or physical force, including repression” (Weber, 1919 in de Meritt 2016, 2) has been long accepted as a defining feature of the state, according to democratic norms, this coercive power should be used to protect and create adherence to human rights, civil liberties, justice, and equality (Schmitter, Karl 1991). Schmitter and Karl (1991) also highlight that for a well-functioning democracy it is necessary that the government remains accountable to the citizens in order to ensure the continuation of popular sovereignty.
Scholars commonly differentiate between two types of democracy, representative or aggregative and participatory democracy. In a representative system citizens indirectly participate in the decision making based on the idea that the individual preferences can be aggregated via the election of public officials, whose task is to design policies that best correspond to the public interest. In a participatory system decisions are reached through direct citizen-participation which is meant to encourage deliberative decision making amongst wider
sectors of the society and result in a wide range of policy options (Young 2002, 18-25; Balderacchi 2015, 165; Schönleitner 2006, 40-43). As Balderacchi (2016, 164-165) proposes, it is more accurate to understand these variations as two extremes of a scale, given that representative and participatory features are generally present in varying ratios.
Inclusive institutions and participatory democracy regained importance in the development debates in the 1990’s as the representative liberal democracy became criticised for its inability to overcome exclusion and inequality (Balderacchi 2016, 166, 169; Schönleitner 2006, 34-35; Young 2002 19-21). Participatory mechanisms such as citizen assembly and popular consultation were seen a solution for correcting these shortcomings by fostering the inclusion of previously excluded or marginalised groups. The underlying argument is that increased citizen participation should lead to fairer decision making, which results in more just policies and better development outcomes given that all interests are represented in the deliberation process (Young 2002). This process is also referred to as the “deepening of democracy”, which Balderacchi (2016, 165), describes as the strengthening of participatory-mechanisms and a move towards the democratic extreme simultaneously. In other words, greater inclusiveness should be accompanied by increased responsiveness in order to talk about the deepening of democracy.
Such a process is especially desirable in societies with high levels of fragmentation and inequalities, given that beyond hindering development, these features are widely accepted to fuel grievances and potentially lead to social conflicts or civil wars (Balderacchi 2016, 166; Young 2002, 17, 24; Reynolds 2002, 1, 37-39; Bormann et al 2019). Hence, power-sharing, inclusive institutions, and deliberative decision making processes are commonly identified by different fields of literature as effective mechanisms for the constructive settlement or the prevention of social conflicts (Ceva 2019; Borman et al 2019; Reynolds 2002; Finnegan, Hackley 2008).
The capacity of democracies to channel dissent into political discussion making through legitimate institutional mechanisms is a key aspect that prevents the rise of violent conflicts (Regan, Henderson 2002; de Meritt 2000). This way fair, inclusive, and non-violent processes can be guaranteed, to reach a negotiated and just conflict settlement. According to Finnegan and Hackley (2008, 7), these (non-violent action and negotiation) are “arguably the two best methods humanity has developed for engaging constructively with conflict” (Finnegan, Hackley 2008, 7). Emanuela Ceva (2019) also supports this argument in her introduction to Interactive Justice, although, she argues that it is necessary to acknowledge the moral
importance of interactive problem-solving beyond its instrumental function. According to her, cooperative and interactive mechanisms of conflict resolution are more likely to result in just outcomes as the involved parties ”treat each other in an inherently just manner because they recognise their status as moral equals” and become able to “recognise that their conflict is not necessarily a zero-sum game and that some form of action coordination is possible and in fact desirable” (Ceva 2019, 456). This is similar to the understanding of democracy and justice proposed by Iris Marion Young (2002), who argues that public deliberation is inherently connected to justice as it promotes conflict resolution through democratic and inclusive processes, which allow the conflicting parties to recognise the equal validity of their claims and negotiate mutually beneficial solutions. However, they both highlight that the equal opportunity for expression, the lack of domination, and public accountability are necessary conditions for effective resolution of conflicts (Ceva 2019, 467; Young 2002, 29-30).
This is why it is also important to keep in mind that inclusion does not automatically result in political equality, as inclusive decision making processes can function while maintaining differentiated political influence amongst the participants. While examining the effects of power-sharing in ethnically fragmented societies, Bormann et al (2019) found that the practices promoted by power-sharing institutions reduce the likelihood of conflict by diminishing exclusion, while simultaneously increasing the possibility of in-group tensions. These findings can be linked to the conclusions of Balderacchi (2016) and Schönletiner (2006), who both observed that a higher degree of citizen participation does not necessarily result in the improvement of democracy. Balderacchi (2016) argues that participatory mechanisms in highly fragmented and polarised societies are likely to carry on some degree of exclusion as the government is unwilling to open participation to groups considered as ‘enemy’ out of the fear that they will “unravel participatory democracy”. Hence, they are prone to implement participatory mechanisms which are only open to certain segments of the society. The influence of strong elite groups also contribute to this in several cases, as elites are reluctant to promote equal political power because wider political participation and competition essentially threatens their dominant position (Regan, Henderson 2002, 132; Schönletiner 2006; Balderacchi 2016; Burchardt, Dietz 2014, 476). Schönleitner (2006) also draws attention to this point when examining the case of Brazil. He argues that widespread clientelistic practices promoted by the weaknesses of the already existing representative institutions explain why the mechanisms of participatory democracy failed to improve democracy. Therefore, he argues
that well-functioning institutions of representative democracy are a necessary precondition for the successful introduction of participatory mechanisms.
These findings also reveal that the reality of unequal power relations, differentiated access to institutions, and socio-economic inequalities continue shape institutional structures and political decision making. The state, private actors, and the civil society are all influential on these processes as they try to validate their interests through the means and strategies available for them (Bebbington 2012; Dahrendorf 1958; Dietz, Engels 2017). Even though the state’s primary function is to represent and promote the public interest, the public interest pursued by the central government never satisfies all the social demands, and in some cases, even sparks widespread dissatisfaction (Andreucci, Kallis 2017). This is partly due to the complex and diverse nature of the society, however, it is also necessary to acknowledge that the state is a complex actor as well. It is neither heterogeneous, nor unified, but comprises of different actors who often pursue contradicting objectives. Therefore, public policies should not be understood as “an instrument of the state”, but “as an unstable equilibrium, the result of rivalry between different social and political actors, which always correspond to a particular set of circumstances” (Lang, Mokrani 2013, 108). Bebbington and Bury (2013, 73) also argue that similarly to public policies, governance itself is a fluid process that “occurs through ongoing negotiation and struggle over the institutions of the state, market, and civil society”.
These observations suggest that despite the promising potential of participatory democracy, high power-asymmetries and inequality, social fragmentation, and weak institutions can undermine the benefits of greater political inclusion. All in all, however, the literature demonstrates that democracy as a political system reduces the likelihood of widespread conflict by institutionalising power sharing and checks and balances, and promoting adherence to the democratic norms of justice, equality, civil liberties, and respect for human rights. In addition, inclusive decision making, and popular sovereignty are also crucial as they encourage constructive and non-violent problem solving.
2.4 Social Conflicts
Social conflict are generally viewed as natural element of any social organisation, given the power-asymmetries and the contested nature of governance and institutions (Lang, Mokrani 2013, 108; Bebbington and Bury 2013, 73). They can take varying forms, ranging from violent
to non-violent, nation-wide or localised, involve heterogeneous or homogeneous groups, and resort to a wide array of strategies such as protests, symbolic acts, or the use of legal actions to address any issue. The core characteristic of social conflict is that it manifests tensions between the ‘rulers’ and the ‘ruled’ where the general aim is to challenge or preserve the existing status quo (Dahrendorf 1958; García 2017, 3-4). This is why Dahrendorf (1958) argues that only those conflicts should be considered social conflicts which are rooted in structural characteristics of the society. However, instead of a binary opposition of 'rulers' v.s. 'ruled', it is more adequate to describe social movements as fluid constructions that comprise of various interest groups who decide to engage in collective action with the strategic purpose of pursuing a common goal (Dietz, Engels 2017, 112-115). A social conflict can be initiated by one social movement, or by a network of movements across local, regional, national, and international scales. There are several options. In any case, drawing a direct link between social conflicts and power structures is especially useful for analytical purposes, as it moves beyond the classical greed-grievance explanations8 of resource-related conflicts and places these struggles within broader patterns of power-relations.
The social conflicts described in this essay refer to conflicts where the social movements engage in non-violent action to challenge the decisions of the central authorities. Day, Pinckney, and Chenoweth (2015, 129) describe nonviolent action as “a distinct category of behaviour, which refers to civilian-led action in which unarmed persons confront opponents using coordinated, purposive, sequences of nonviolent methods”. They argue that such a conceptualisation is necessary in order to avoid mistaking the lack of violence for the lack of conflict, and to differentiate purposefully non-violent movements from spontaneous movements that ‘happen to be’ non-violent. Finnegan and Hackley (2008), and García (2017) also emphasise the intentional character of non-violent strategies used by social movements. They both agree that social movements deliberately chose non-violent strategies, as they can gain considerable legitimacy by relying on their democratic right to mobilisation, which makes them more likely to succeed. While popular mobilisations, like protests, are more often associated with non-violent action, it should not be forgotten that institutionalised mechanisms such as legal tools or democratic participation, can also be part of non-violent strategies. Social
8 The greed-grievance argument proposes that conflicts are related to the lucrative nature of non-renewable resources that can generate inequality-related grievances, when a certain group is excluded from the benefits or the control of the resources. The greed element is more commonly associated with the lootable feature of resources that rebel groups can exploit to finance their activities. (Collier, Hoeffler 2004; Bayramov 2018)
movements pick from a repertoire of strategies based on what is available for them, and what goal they wish to pursue (Dietz, Engels 2017, 112).
Social conflicts are considered important catalysers of change, manifestations of how the ‘ruled’ want to change the ‘rules of the game’ (Bebbington 2012; Dahrendorf 1958). It is necessary to acknowledge that they have the potential to push for progressive change, although, their effects should not be overestimated either. The outcome of social conflicts depends on a wide range of factors, such as the institutional context, the public support, the available strategies, the movemen’s learning capacity, the opportunity structures, and the responses of the state (Bebbington, 2012; Dietz, Engels 2017, 113). Moreover, the social conflicts ability to result in constructive transformations largely depends on the how the conflict is resolved. As the literature on democracy showed, those methods are considered the most constructive where the conflicting parties interact and cooperate in a way that both can equally express their views and have the possibility to move towards the mutual understanding and recognition of the conflicting claims (Ceva 2019; Young 2002; Finnegan, Hackley 2008). Although, it is important to keep in mind that the outcome of the social conflicts will be shaped by the power-asymmetries which characterise social relation. In this sense, social conflicts are conditioned by and originate from the unequal distribution of power within the society, however, they also change these power-relations at the same time (Dietz, Engels 2017, 114-117; Bebbington 2012).
Regarding neoextractivist social conflicts, most often mentioned contributing conditions are: the lack of political representation, unequal access to state institutions, the lack of opportunities due to socio-economic inequalities, and the power asymmetries between state, corporate, and social interests (Dietz, Engels 2017, 114-117, Martímez-Alier, Walter 2016, 80; Bebbington 2012, 60-62; Bebbington, Bury 2013; Dietz 2017). Some scholars also draw attention to the importance of political opportunity structures in addition to structural factors, which refers to the shifting nature of enabling and hindering factors that motivate interest groups for collective mobilisation (Dietz 2017; Dietz, Engels 2017).
Extractivism-related social struggles in such a context are not limited to targeting natural resource extraction only, but also formulate broader critiques and demands towards the functioning of the democracy in their countries. They convey demands for a stronger regulatory state that protects the environment, effectively regulates the industry, sufficiently redistributes the extractive revenues, and protects the rights of the citizens (Bebbington 2012, Bebbington, Bury 2013). Such demands are related to the idea that the state should represent the interests
of its citizens, and guard against, compensate for some of the dispossession created by natural resource extraction. In some cases the movements even pressure the state to increase its powers of governance vis a vis the private corporations, as despite the promises, neoextractivism did not improve the state’s capacity in many cases (Canterbury 2018; Bebbington, Bury 2013, 265).
In addition, these movements also reflect demands for improved political inclusion (Dietz, Engels 2017; Acosta, Roa Avendaño, and Roa García 2017). They question the top-down logic of the neoextractivist development model by demanding their participation in the decision making processes (Bebbington 2012, 103-104; Dietz, Engels 2017, 112-115; Svampa 2015, 68). They also call for more inclusive natural resource governance by opposing the central government’s and the extractive industry’s dominant influence on the use of nature. This way they challenge the dominant notion of development that is based on the overexploitation of nature. Acosta, Roa Avendaño, and Roa García (2017) refer to this as a process of “environmental democratisation”, while Martínez-Alier and Walter, (2016, 80) describes it as demands for environmental justice, which they consider “a response to the power of corporations and governments, a power that leads to a deficit in local democracy”.
These demands are often intertwined with the pursuit of social justice as the expansion of the extractive frontiers in the early 2000s negatively affected various marginalised communities in Latin America and increased human rights abuses across the continent (Raftopoulos 2017; Martínez-Alier, Walter 2016; Svampa 2015). Some governments promoted neoextractivism at the expense of local communities, indigenous, and afro-descendant populations, which led to the emergence of social movements that protest against the differentiated treatment of certain minorities or interest groups, the abuse of human rights, and the new patterns of exclusion that accompanies the boom of extractivism (Vélez-Torres 2014; Burchardt, Dietz, 2014, 478-479; Bebbington 2012, 114-129; Martínez- Alier, Walter 2016, 72-73).
Given these characteristics, social conflicts related to the extractive sector can be described as a potential democratising force, given that the opposition to neoextractivism is intertwined with the pursuit of a more inclusive democracy and an improved respect of equality, justice, civil liberties, and human rights. Therefore, it is especially puzzling that various governments have responded to these movements with repressive measures (Gudynas 2010 10-12; Bebbington 2012, 114-129; Veltmeyer 2013, 88-90; Bebbington, Bury 2013; Hogenboom 2013, 150-152; Svampa 2015; Raftopoulos 2017, 388-390).
2.5 State responsiveness, state repression
While in a democratic setting social conflicts are expected to be resolved through peaceful and legitimate means, states can also use repression to deal with social-, political conflicts. It is widely accepted that repressive measures are triggered by real or perceived a threat coming from internal dissent, which can be understood as “mass political behavior directed against the state, its policies and its practices [that] can disrupt society, and it can undermine the position of those within power” (Davenport 1995, 686).
In order to eliminate (potentially) destabilising dissent, the state can use its coercive and repressive power. Although, it is important to keep in mind that “repression is a form of coercion, but not all coercion is repressive” (de Meritt 2016, 3). Political repression is commonly differentiated from coercive measures used by the law enforcement, for instance, based on three features: it violates a) basic freedoms, such as freedom of speech, movement, religious belief or protest, b) “due process in the enforcement and adjudication of law” (Davenport 2007, 2), and/or c) the citizens physical integrity or safety (de Meritt 2016, 3). In addition to these characteristics, Davenport (2007, 2) defines repression as
“The actual or threatened use of physical sanctions against an individual or organization, within the territorial jurisdiction of the state, for the purpose of imposing a cost on the target as well as deterring specific activities and/or beliefs perceived to be challenging to government personnel, practices or institutions.”
Such an understanding implies that the purpose of repression is the maintenance of the state apparatus, its protection from real or perceived domestic threats created by dissent (Davenport 1995, 686; de Meritt 2016, 3; Davenport 2007, 7-8). For this purpose, the government can rely on the use of physical force, as well as executive, legislative, bureaucratic, and discursive measures (de Meritt 2016, 2; Bebbington, Bury 2013, 281). These allow the use of a large variety of tactics, such as violent or non-violent, overt or covert, targeted or indiscriminate, legal or illegal etc. which can be executed directly by the state, or state sponsored-, affiliated actors, or the combination of these in any form (Davenport 2007, 3; Ritter 2014, 145; de Meritt 22016, 6).
However, it is also necessary to keep in mind that repressive responses are alternatives to accommodation (de Meritt 2016, 4). As Regan and Henderson (2002, 131) suggests, repression and accommodation can also be understood as two extremes of a scale from which states can choose any combination of methods to address dissent. The broad proposition is that repression becomes the preferred alternative when the ‘internal dissent’ creates an immediate threat to the existing status quo, or the costs of negotiating an agreement with dissent is unacceptably high (Sullivan 2016, 1164; Davenport 1995, 688; de Meritt 2016, 3; Ritter 2014, 144). Under this proposition, the relationship of dissent and repression is often understood as linear, meaning that the bigger the threat, the more repression it will entail. However, various authors have challenged this proposition (Regan, Henderson 2002; Sullivan 2016; de Meritt 2016).
Scholars generally argue that regime type is highly influential on how threat (dissent) materialises, how it is perceived, and how it is responded to. Highly democratic regimes are generally seen as the least prone to repression for a number of reasons. As Davenport (1995) puts it, a democratic political system reduces the perception of threat (thus the likelihood of repression) by increasing the “culturally accepted levels of dissent”. This can be explained by the fact that democratic institutional structures provide legitimate alternative mechanisms for the resolution of problems, based on non-violent democratic norms (Davenport 2007, 10-13; de Meritt 2016, 5-7; Davenport 1995, 690-707). Therefore, the competition for power mainly happens via mechanisms which “channel all but the most extreme forms of opposition into the formal political institutions of society, where they are then considered in the ‘official’ debate” (Regan, Henderson 2002, 120-123; Davenport 2007, 10-11). Hence, the ruling coalition will not perceive the opposition demands as such a high threat, given that political contestation becomes normalised and regulated.
Electoral competition also plays a crucial role in guaranteeing that the incumbents will remain responsive to popular demands either on a rhetorical level or through effective accommodation of demands. As political power is derived from and constrained by popular support, high political contestation forces the governments to remain responsive to popular demands, which reduces the likelihood of widespread dissent. Even though governments primarily aim to satisfy the needs of the ‘medial voter’, the legitimate mechanisms of political contestation still tend to limit the formation of widespread radical movements. Although, an effective system of checks and balances is also essential for maintaining accountability and the continuation of fair and open political competition (Binzer Hobolt, Klemmensen 2008). In such
circumstances, the use of repression is considered unacceptable to deal with political contestation or popular demands. As de Meritt (2016, 6-7) put it, democracies cannot afford to repress, because [...] citizens will respond by removing them from power.”
In comparison to democratic regimes, transitional, or semi-democratic states are found to be the most prone to suppressing dissent (de Meritt 2016, Davenport 1995; Regan, Henderson 2002; Ritter 2014, 158). This is commonly referred to as the ‘more murder in the middle’ hypothesis, which Regan and Henderson (2002, 119) described as an “inverted U relationship between democracy and repression”. The underlying logic is that democracies do not repress due to the above explained reasons, while autocracies do not have the need to repress given that the credible threat of harsh punishment effectively deters citizens from protesting (de Meritt 2016, 5-7). Semi-democratic regimes, however, a) experience dissent mobilization as it is allowed (compared to autocracies), b) are more likely to perceive such mobilisations as threatening due to their fragile legitimacy c) and find repression a viable alternative to cope with divergent demands given the high threat perception and the lack of effective and institutionalised regulatory and conflict management alternatives (Regan, Henderson 2002 124-132; Davenport 1995; Ritter 2014).
Davenport (1995) considers that the regime type is determinant of the threat perception, and transitional regimes react more harshly because of their high perception of threat. In comparison, Regan and Henderson (2002) find that it is threat rather than the regime type which influences repression. Regardless of this disputed causality, they both consider institutional arrangements to be highly influential factors on the likelihood of repression. A weak institutional context could limit the state’s ability to direct political opposition into the ‘official debate’ and pacify dissent through peaceful means or reach a negotiated agreement. In addition, unstable institutional structures also decrease the incumbents’ security and legitimacy, which could make them more prone to repression (Regan, Henderson 2002; Reynolds 2002). Moreover, weak checks and balances, low accountability and transparency can also increase the state’s repressive capacity. Although, Davenport (1995, 698) mentions that ‘bureaucratic inertia’ can likewise affect repression, as the government becomes accustomed to allocating resources to the coercive apparatus which makes them more willing and capable to use repressive measures in the future.
While some sort of institutional-behavioural path dependency could indeed affect the state’s actions, Regan and Henderson (2002) argue that elite groups also play a role in this. Similarly to the findings of Balderacchi (2016) and Schönleitner (2006), they consider that
