Nationalism and Social Policy: The Politics of Territorial Solidarity

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Nationalism and Social Policy

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Nationalism and Social Policy The Politics of Territorial Solidarity

Daniel Béland and André Lecours

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3 Great Clarendon Street, Oxford OX2 6DP Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide in Oxford New York Auckland Cape Town Dar es Salaam Hong Kong Karachi Kuala Lumpur Madrid Melbourne Mexico City Nairobi New Delhi Shanghai Taipei Toronto With offices in Argentina Austria Brazil Chile Czech Republic France Greece Guatemala Hungary Italy Japan Poland Portugal Singapore South Korea Switzerland Thailand Turkey Ukraine Vietnam Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries Published in the United States by Oxford University Press Inc., New York © Daniel Béland and André Lecours 2008 The moral rights of the authors have been asserted Database right Oxford University Press (maker) First published 2008 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above You must not circulate this book in any other binding or cover and you must impose the same condition on any acquirer British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Data available Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Béland, Daniel. Nationalism and social policy : the politics of territorial solidarity / Daniel Beland and Andre Lecours. p. cm. Includes index. ISBN 978–0–19–954684–8 1. Public welfare–Political aspects–Case studies. 2. Separatist movements–Case studies. 3. Canada–Social policy–History. 4. Great Britain–Social policy–History. 5. Belgium–Social policy–History. 6. Quebec (Province)–History–Autonomy and independence movements. 7. Scotland–History–Autonomy and independence movements. 8. Flanders (Belgium)–History–Autonomy and independence movements. I. Lecours, André, 1972– II. Title. HV31.B45 2008 361.6’1–dc22 2008015438 Typeset by SPI Publisher Services, Pondicherry, India Printed in Great Britain on acid-free paper by Biddles Ltd., King’s Lynn, Norfolk ISBN 978–0–19–954684–8 1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

To Angela, Elizabeth and Charles

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Acknowledgements

We are indebted to many people who have provided advice and support for the realization of this project. We would like to thank Kris Deschouwer, Peter Graefe, Scott Greer, Michael Keating, Nicola McEwen, John Myles, and Steven Vansteenkiste for their comments on parts of this book. Special thanks to Johanne Poirier and her students for discussing our chapter on Belgium in their seminar at the Université Libre de Bruxelles and for sending us their useful comments. Thank you to the four anonymous readers who helped us improve the manuscript at every step of the way. We would also like to thank Elizabeth Cobbett, Heather Fussell, Abdolali Rezaei, and Ka Man Yu for their research assistance, and JoAnn Cleaver for her comprehensive stylistic and substantive editorial work. Many thanks to Keith Banting, Fred Block, Gerard Boychuk, Frank Cohen, Axel Huelsemeyer, Desmond King, Guy Lecavalier, Margaret Levi, Patrik Marier, Alain Noël, Bruno Palier, Ito Peng, Bruno Théret, Charles Tilly, Jack Veugelers, and the other scholars who provided comments on our earlier work about nationalism and social policy. We have also both greatly gained from the intellectual environment offered by our respective departments at the University of Calgary and Concordia University and, in André Lecours’ case, by his membership in the Research Group on Plurinational Societies led by Alain-G. Gagnon at Université du Québec à Montréal. Finally, we are grateful to all of those whom we have met in Belgium, Canada, and the United Kingdom who took time to be interviewed or to discuss our project. We acknowledge the financial assistance of Canada’s Social Science and Humanities Research Council, which proved crucial for conducting the research behind this book. Thank you to our editor at Oxford University Press, Dominic Byatt, who skilfully guided us through the various stages of the review process. It was a privilege to work with such an experienced and professional editor.

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Acknowledgements

Finally, Daniel Béland wants to give special thanks to his wife Angela, who has provided feedback on much of this book as well as invaluable, unending support. Daniel Béland and André Lecours

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Contents

List of Abbreviations

Introduction

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1

1. Understanding the Nationalism–Social Policy Nexus

12

2. Canada: Nationalism, Federalism, and Social Policy

41

3. The United Kingdom: Nationalism, Devolution, and Social Policy

94

4. Belgium: Nationalism, State Reform, and Social Security Conclusion Works Cited Index

145 197 224 248

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List of Abbreviations

ABVV/FGTB

Algemeen Belgisch VakVerbond/Fédération Générale des Travailleurs Belges

ACV/CSC

Algemeen Christelijk Vakverbond/Confédération des Syndicats Chrétiens

ADQ

Action démocratique du Québec

CDH

Centre Démocrate Humaniste

CD&V

Christen-democratisch en Vlaams

CVP

Christelijke Volkspartij

N-VA

Nieuw-Vlaams Alliantie

PLP

Parti de la liberté et du progrès

PLQ

Parti libéral du Québec

PQ

Parti québécois

PS

Parti socialiste

PSC

Parti social chrétien

PVV

Partij voor Vrijheid en Vooruitgang

SNP

Scottish National Party

SP

Socialistische Partij

SPA

Socialistische Partij Anders

VLD

Vlaamse Liberalen en Democraten

MR

Mouvement réformateur

VBO-FEB

Verbond van Belgische Ondernemingen/Fédération des Entreprises de Belgique

VEV

Vlaams Economisch Verbond

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Introduction

The resurgence of sub-state nationalism and the emergence of the modern welfare state are certainly among the most striking political developments of the second half of the twentieth century, but relatively little has been written to explore the possible interactions between the two. 1 Students of social citizenship have implicitly explored the link between national identity and welfare provisions, but they have seldom analysed this connection with reference to sub-state nationalism. 2 Specialists of nationalism rarely discuss social policy issues. Instead, they focus on formal state institutions, language, culture, ethnicity, and religion. 3 For example, a book commissioned by the Association for the Study of Ethnicity and Nationalism meant to identify crucial research avenues in the field of nationalism overlooks the welfare state entirely. 4 In order to shed more light on the political interactions between territorial mobilization, identity formation, and public policy, this book bridges two major fields of social science research by providing a concrete analysis of the relationship between nationalism and social policy. This book discusses the problematic nature of the politics of territorial solidarity in multinational states. At the heart of the matter are the territorial boundaries of social solidarity and economic redistribution. In other

1 The main exception here is the work of Nicola McEwen. See, for example, ‘State Welfare Nationalism: The Territorial Impact of Welfare State Development in Scotland,’ Regional and Federal Studies 12 (2002): 66–90. 2 T. H. Marshall, Social Policy (1965). 3 Bringing social policy into the analysis of sub-state nationalism does not mean removing the cultural element; rather, it simply adds another dimension. At a minimum, culture and social policy are juxtaposed, but in many instances they are deeply intertwined. For example, the delivery of social services such as health care involves, in multilingual states, some type of language policy. In this context, social policy provides an arena for making a statement about the respective power of linguistic groups. 4 M. Guibernau and J. Hutchinson (eds.), Understanding Nationalism (2001).

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words, who should be included in the ‘social justice’ community, 5 or put another way, to whom should social solidarity extend? Typically, the answer to these questions is ‘the nation’ or ‘members of the national community’. In Canada, the United Kingdom, and Belgium, however, there exist different, often competing, national projects, the result of which is that ‘the nation’ refers to different communities, depending on who is asked. In these countries, thus, social policy, as both a mechanism and a symbol of territorial solidarity, has become intertwined with nationalist politics.

The Nation, Territory, and Public Policy Despite the shadow cast over the state by global cultural, economic, and political processes, there is a growing consensus in both the sociological and the political science literatures that state institutions still matter a great deal, and that the territorial dimension of political and economic processes remains ever-present in the West as well as elsewhere around the world. 6 Yet, despite this consensus and the proliferation of scholarship on federalism and decentralization, the changing political articulation between territorial identities and policy development remains an understudied issue that raises crucial theoretical questions about politics and policy-making. Scholars who seek to better understand the connection between territorial identities and public policies may consider at least two such questions. First, how do territorial mobilization and identities impact policy outcomes? Second, and inversely, how do existing public policies affect processes of territorial mobilization and identity formation? Systematic, theoretically informed accounts about 5 David Brown, Contemporary Nationalism: Civic, Ethnocultural and Multicultural Politics (2000), 38. 6 For a critique of the ‘globalization thesis’ that considers that states and territorial politics have become increasingly irrelevant, see, among many other possible references, John L. Campbell, Institutional Change and Globalization (2004); John F. Helliwell, Globalization and Well-Being (2002); T. V. Paul, G. John Ikenberry, and John Hall (eds.), The Nation-State in Question (2003); Jan Aart Scholte, ‘What is Globalization? The Definitional Issue–Again,’ working paper no. 109/02, Center for the Study of Globalization and Regionalization, GSGR, Coventry: University of Warwick, 2002. Even a contemporary Marxist theorist like David Harvey acknowledges that the territorial logic of the state remains a crucial aspect of the contemporary world order that exists alongside—and interacts with—global capitalism: The New Imperialism (2003).

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Introduction

the relationship between identity formation, territorial mobilization, and public policy are relatively rare, especially if one excludes scholarship focusing exclusively on federalism or other specific modes of institutional governance. 7 Territory and public policy are joined as a result of the structure and organization of human communities. In one form or another, the territorial anchoring of public policy in advanced industrial societies involves the nation as a basic collective reference. Traditional thinking held that state policies were simply national policies in so far as they were designed for a nation by its elected representatives. From this perspective, education and economic development policies are considered instrumental in the political construction of nations, 8 while the national community, once established, is viewed as the foundation for the development of an array of public policies. This straightforward, though often implicit, connection between national identity and public policy has been seriously challenged by the concept of multi-level governance. 9 In federal systems, this connection has always been more complex than was the case in centralized unitary states, as the formal division of sovereignty typically allows for constituent units to design and implement policy independently of the central state. 10 In the European Union, this complexity is even greater owing to the existence of an additional level of political authority and policy-making capacity. The reality of multinationalism presents a different type of challenge to the notion that state, national, and public policy all overlap. Public policies and territorial configurations were typically understood in relation to the model of the nation-state, where the state’s conceptualization of the nation remains virtually unchallenged. In some cases (Germany, the Netherlands, and the United States, for instance), the assumption of a conflation between state and nation is fairly unproblematic in so far as citizens recognize themselves as members of one nation that generally corresponds to existing international borders. There might be debates about the nature of the nation, but they do not extend to questioning

7 For an exception, see among others Jan Erk, “‘Wat We Zelf Doen, Doen We Beter;” Belgian Substate Nationalisms, Congruence and Public Policy,’ Journal of Public Policy 23 (2003): 201–24. 8 Ernest Gellner, Nations and Nationalism (1983). 9 Gary Marks, Liesbet Hooghe, and Kermit Blank, ‘European Integration from the 1980s: State-Centric v. Multi-Level Governance,’ Journal of Common Market Studies 34 (1996): 341–78. 10 Ronald L. Watts, Comparing Federal Systems (1999).

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its boundaries. 11 In other instances, however, the nation projected by the state is opposed by a substantial segment of the population. We can refer to these countries as multinational societies or, as is the case in Belgium, Canada, and the United Kingdom, as multinational democracies. 12 Multinationalism need not involve an essentialist view of national communities: it does not have to be defined, strictly speaking, as a state harbouring multiple nations. Rather, multinational democracies may be seen as countries where the nation projected by the central state is opposed by a sub-state nationalist movement enjoying substantial support as expressed, for example, by the electoral strength of nationalist parties. Students of public policy dealing with multinational democracies can pretend they are just like regular nation-states (as was often done by British scholars who focused almost exclusively on England), or investigate them for the more complex and diverse societies they actually are. Scholars of nationalism, for their part, could gain greater understanding of multinational societies by focusing on how policy is made, rather than simply exploring broad institutional arrangements. After all, in addition to entitlement and redistribution issues, modern social policy involves notions of identity. Moreover, nationalism is as much about solidarity as it is about language and culture. Overall, nationalism is a multifaceted phenomenon that packages identity, interests, and political mobilization into a territorial framework that does not necessarily coincide with the state. It is a form of politics that features identity, although it cannot be reduced to it because it also plays to the notion of collective interests. Through this dual emphasis on identity and interests, sub-state nationalism challenges the political, institutional, and/or constitutional status quo, but not necessarily through a struggle for independence. Indeed, in contemporary multinational democracies, nationalist politics is as much about seeking greater territorial autonomy and the recognition of nationhood than it is about achieving independence. As for the concept of national identity, or nationhood, it refers to the perception of national boundaries and identity that does not 11 Yet, in nation-states as elsewhere, territorial boundaries are always social and political constructions. On the social construction of boundaries, see Michele Lamont and Virág Molnár, ‘The Study of Boundaries in the Social Sciences,’ Annual Review of Sociology 28 (2002): 167–95. 12 See Alain-G. Gagnon and James Tully (eds.), Multinational Democracies (2001) and AlainG. Gagnon, Montserrat Guibernau, and François Rocher (eds.), The Conditions of Diversity in Multinational Democracies (2003).

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Introduction

necessarily entail the active quest for autonomy and recognition associated with nationalism.

Exploring the Nationalism–Social Policy Nexus To explore how nationalism affects policy development while simultaneously being shaped by it, we focus on social policy, by far the largest policy area in terms of spending in advanced industrial societies. Social policy refers to measures that fight economic insecurity, redistribute income, and provide social services to workers and citizens. Social programmes deal with issues such as poverty, unemployment, health care, and retirement. The concept of solidarity has long been used to describe the role of social policy in both industrial and advanced industrial societies. 13 As the final chapter suggests, understanding the relationship between nationalism and social policy could serve as an entry point to consider the politics of territorial solidarity in settings other than the state, for example in the European Union. This book examines the relationship between nationalism and social policy in the multinational democracies of Canada, the United Kingdom, and Belgium, countries whose politics are heavily shaped by Québécois, Scottish, and Flemish nationalism, respectively. We examine how social policy has been used by these nationalist movements as an identitybuilding tool and how it has become a central focus of nationalist mobilization. The underlying argument is that there is something distinctive about social policy that renders it a more likely target of nationalist mobilization than, for example, environmental or agricultural policies. Nationalist movements, we argue, will seek the congruence of the national community (as their leaders define it) to the social solidarity community. Indeed, the notion of solidarity, a key feature of social policy debates, first necessitates resolving the issue of the exact contours of the community where this solidarity should occur. Our three cases suggest that the processes of identity formation/consolidation and territorial mobilization inherent to nationalism involve a social policy dimension, at least in democratic industrialized societies. At both the state and sub-state levels, social policy arrangements have been an important component of 13 See, for example: Daniel Béland and Randall Hansen, ‘Reforming the French Welfare State: Solidarity, Social Exclusion and the Three Crises of Citizenship,’ West European Politics 23 (2000): 47–64.

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nation-building, and social policy preferences are fundamental aspects of the characterization of the nation. Social programmes structure shared institutions while participating in the construction of economic, social, and political boundaries between specific populations and territorial entities. 14 This book also analyses how nationalist movements in Canada, the United Kingdom, and Belgium, alongside other social and political forces, impacted the enactment and implementation of social policy. In other words, we are trying to understand the potential impact of a nationalist movement on the welfare state. The existing literature on social policy devotes much attention to issues of class and gender mobilization, 15 yet relatively little has been done to assess the role of nationalism in welfare state politics. Our three cases demonstrate that sub-state nationalism may affect social policy development by reshaping social policy agendas and, in some contexts, strengthening the policy autonomy of regional entities. In addition to demonstrating how nationalism and social policy intersect in our three illustrative countries, we seek an understanding of what might explain the specific dynamic assumed in each country by the dual processes of social policy development in the context of multinationalism, and nationalist politics in the context of the welfare state. For this purpose, we highlight throughout the role of ideas and frames, political institutions, and policy legacies as well as socio-economic conditions and organizations in shaping how nationalism and social policy interact. We recognize that political institutions are crucial to our understanding of both nationalism and public policy, but we also contend that societal factors should be taken into account, and that they can indeed complement insights stemming from institutional analysis. Therefore, in analysing the politics of territorial solidarity, this book pays heed to the weight of political institutions and policy legacies, the mediating effects of ideas and framing processes, and the structural impact of concrete social and economic cleavages. 14 In Europe, recent decisions of the European Court of Justice have undermined, in the name of cross-national workforce mobility, the power of state and sub-state entities to use social programmes as strict tools of boundary formation. Yet, there is strong evidence that, even in the EU, state and sub-state social programmes still participate in the construction of social and territorial boundaries related to the processes of identity formation analysed in the present book: Ferrera, ‘European Integration and National Social Citizenship?’ 15 For example: Domhoff, G. William, State Autonomy or Class Dominance? Case Study on Policy Making in America (1996); O’Connor et al., States, Markets, Families: Gender, Liberalism and Social Policy in Australia, Canada, Great Britain and the United States (1999).

6

Introduction

Outline of the Book In addition to this brief Introduction, four main chapters and an extensive conclusion comprise the book. Chapter 1 begins with the formulation of conceptual distinctions and working definitions regarding nationalism and social policy. Then, it formulates six claims about the relationship between sub-state nationalism and social policy: (i) in developed multinational countries, both the state and at least one sub-state government are likely to use social policy to foster and promote competing national solidarities and identities; (ii) social policy often becomes a major component of the effort of nationalist movements to build and consolidate national identity, and an important target for nationalist mobilization; (iii) the focus of nationalist movements on social policy is not simply the product of economic self-interests; yet, references to the fairness of financial transfers between territorial entities have become effective mobilization strategies; (iv) it is intrinsic to the nature of contemporary (sub-state) nationalism that it puts forward claims about the existence of a national unit of solidarity where co-nationals have a special obligation to each other’s welfare, which is viewed as being best fulfilled by having control over social policy; (v) independently of the concrete effect of nationalist movements on policy outcomes, sub-state nationalism impacts the policy agenda and framing processes that shape the debates over social policy and territorial solidarity in multinational states; (vi) the consequences of sub-state nationalism for social policy are variable, and the presence of strong nationalist movements does not necessarily favour an erosion of welfare at the state or sub-state level. After discussing these claims at length, the chapter formulates analytical and methodological considerations that, alongside the six above claims, structure the empirical analysis presented in the three following chapters. Chapter 2 explores the politics of territorial solidarity in Canada. More specifically, it focuses on how Québécois nationalism mobilizes social policy to build the Québécois identity and to develop arguments that favour the province’s independence or, at least, its increased autonomy. The chapter first shows how the construction of the Canadian federal welfare state during the 1940s and 1950s exacerbated French-Canadian nationalism. This form of provincial resistance to federal interventions was negatively associated with social policy because it sought, as a conservative movement, to limit the expansion of federal social policy. We point out that French-Canadian nationalism and its leading political party, Union nationale, could do this only because Canada’s federal structures 7


allowed it. Yet we also recognize that federal social programmes directly affected, and proved widely popular among, Quebeckers, and that such programmes effectively forged more concrete institutional and economic bonds between them and the federal government. When a progressive and secular Québécois nationalism replaced French-Canadian nationalism in the context of the Quiet Revolution, a number of social programmes were either introduced or decentralized for the express purpose of improving the socio-economic conditions of Francophones living in Quebec. This was the beginning of an association between the Québécois identity and language, and progressive social policy. 16 Arguments favouring Quebec secession on the grounds that it represented the only way to create a truly progressive and egalitarian Francophone society in Quebec were developed in the 1970s. These arguments grew stronger after the referendum of 1995, though the ideal of an explicitly social-democratic society as articulated in the 1970s was transformed to incorporate the realities of free trade and economic globalization. An overemphasis on language has handicapped Québécois nationalists who can be accused of being outdated ‘ethnic nationalists’. On the contrary, a focus on social policy allows Quebec politicians to frame the Québécois identity in terms of progressive values that can, in principle, be inclusive of all Quebeckers independent of language and ethnic origin. Our analysis of the post1995 referendum period suggests that policies such as the 7-dollar-perday day care and public drug insurance programmes became focal points of the nationalist articulation of the Québécois identity, and that the Parti Québécois (PQ) has relied heavily on the idea that independence is necessary to protect and expand these types of policies to promote its project. To highlight the meshing of social policy and national identity in Quebec, we discuss what happens to political parties that are seen to take an explicitly neo-liberal approach to social policy, including the ADQ. Finally, we analyse the consequence of Québécois nationalism for the implementation of social policy in Canada, more specifically, for Canadian federalism as a ‘social union’. Chapter 3 examines the relationship between, on the one hand, Scottish nationalism and the broader reality of Scottish nationhood/national identity, and, on the other hand, social policy in the context of welfare state development and retrenchment in the United Kingdom. Its central argument is that contemporary Scottish nationhood and 16 Through this book, the expression ‘progressive social policy’ generally refers to more comprehensive programmes surrounded by an egalitarian and solidaristic discourse. What is seen as ‘progressive’ varies greatly from one country (and even one region) to another.

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Introduction

nationalism is strongly animated by the idea that Scots are more progressive, collectivist, and egalitarian than the English, who are said to focus more on the free market and on individual autonomy. In this context, we emphasize the resemblance between the nature of the nationalism– social policy connection in Scotland and Quebec. The chapter opens with a discussion of the nature of the United Kingdom as a ‘union state’, one that was politically centralized until very recently but never sought the assimilation of its component communities. We situate the construction of the British welfare state in the context of this political centralization and explain how social protection contributed to strengthening, or at least preserving, the loyalty of Scots towards the United Kingdom. This leads into our explanation of the strength of the contemporary link between Scottish nationhood/nationalism and social policy, that is, the radical neo-liberal approach of the Thatcher and Major governments and their efforts to scale back the British welfare state. Scotland, a traditionally industrial region with higher unemployment than southern England and a slightly more left-leaning political culture when dealing with redistribution demonstrated little support for the Conservatives. In particular, the Scottish National Party (SNP), which had turned towards the political left in the 1970s, found new ammunition to promote Scotland’s independence. More generally, Scottish politicians and civil society leaders framed their claims for home rule against the backdrop of British conservative governments by stressing the allegedly distinct values and social policy preferences of the Scots and the fact that, without autonomy, Scotland did not have the political weight to prevent the re-election of conservative governments to Westminster. The chapter therefore stresses the connection between Scottish nationhood/nationalism and social policy by focusing on the move towards home rule and the SNP’s nationalist mobilization arguments. It suggests that the devolution movement was partly animated by the desire to empower Scotland to enact social legislation distinct from England’s then Thatcherite policies. The chapter then analyses the consequences of post-devolution Scottish political autonomy for social policy in Scotland and elsewhere in the United Kingdom. This is followed by a discussion regarding the distinctiveness and the agendasetting potential of Scottish post-devolution policy choices (e.g. creating a long-term personal care programme for the elderly and rejecting the model of ‘foundation hospitals’) in Scotland and in the rest of the United Kingdom. Chapter 4 analyses the claims of Flemish nationalism to federalize (decentralize) Belgium’s social insurance system and the Francophone 9


response to those claims. The concern of Flemish nationalism for social policy issues is particularly puzzling, given that the development of the Flemish movement revolved around the protection of language and culture. In this context, we begin by explaining why Flemish nationalism has come to focus on social policy. We outline how the nationalist logic of favouring the so-called in-group (the Flemish nation) at the expense of the ‘out-group’ (Francophones) emerged in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Yet, later on, four factors favoured the application of this logic to social policy issues. The first, and most obvious, was the construction of the modern Belgian social insurance system in the postwar period, thus institutionalizing countrywide mechanisms of social solidarity and economic redistribution. The second was the relative economic decline of Wallonia in the 1950s and 1960s, which meant that implicit transfers from Flanders to Wallonia stemming from the Belgian social insurance system began shortly thereafter (or at least that the argument that these transfers were significant could be made). The third factor was a close association between the Flemish movement and Christian Democracy that began in the late nineteenth century and contributed to the shaping of some distinct, right-leaning Flemish social policy preferences. The fourth and final aspect was the process of federalization and the creation of a Flemish Community that offered an alternative to the central management of the social insurance system commonly known as Social Security. The chapter shows how Flemish nationalism became infused with social policy issues by a careful consideration of the ongoing debate over the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system. We demonstrate that claims for federalization have been framed in the context of larger federal, confederal, or separatist projects, and accompanied by various slogans and framing strategies for nationalist mobilization. In the case of Belgium, another puzzle arises. Considering the overwhelming support among Flemish parties for the (partial) federalization of the Belgian social insurance system, why has it not yet happened? We suggest it is the result of two major institutional obstacles. The first is tied to existing social forces and policy legacies: labour unions and the main federal business organization, which are formal ‘social partners’ involved in the governance of the Belgian social insurance system, have not—unlike the parties—split along linguistic lines and defend this countrywide system in part to protect their own legitimacy as Belgian national actors. The second is constitutional and political: Francophone parties, who oppose the federalization of social insurance, have veto power when it comes to this type of institutional change. In other words, the nature of Belgium’s political 10

Introduction

system makes reform unlikely. We conclude the chapter by discussing the significance of Flanders’ new dependency insurance programme for Belgian social policy. The Conclusion begins with a discussion of the book’s six main claims through a systematic comparison of our three cases. Following this theoretical and comparative synthesis, the discussion moves beyond the case studies themselves to gauge this book’s general contribution to the analysis of the relationship between identity formation, territorial mobilization, and social policy. For example, the chapter briefly refers to mono-national states like France and the United States in order to stress the possible articulation between nationalism and social policy in countries where sub-state nationalism is not a central issue. 17 Processes like regionalism and European integration are also discussed in order to illustrate how the broad theoretical framework developed in this book could apply to other forms of identity and territorial politics. The last chapter ends with a brief outline of this book’s contribution to broad theoretical debates in the fields of nationalism and social policy studies. 17 Even in France and the United States, sub-state nationalism is present in regions like Corsica and Puerto Rico (which admittedly has only an associated status with the United States). Yet social policy issues are seldom at the centre of the rather small nationalist movements operating in these countries.

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1 Understanding the Nationalism–Social Policy Nexus

As mentioned in the Introduction, relatively little published research has looked specifically at the connection between nationalism and social policy. 1 Chapter 1 considers this connection in analytical terms. It presents a general discussion of nationalism and social policy before outlining the six main claims developed in the three case studies examined in this book. The first section discusses nationalism and social policy by making conceptual distinctions and presenting working definitions of key concepts. The second section puts forth six claims about the relationship between sub-state nationalism and social policy. The third section provides analytical considerations for our empirical chapters as it stresses the role of the following factors in conditioning the meshing of nationalism and social policy: political ideology, especially the left–right dichotomy; evolving territorial patterns of economic inequality; and the structuring role of political institutions. The fourth section offers a few remarks about the place of globalization in our comparative analysis. We conclude 1 Among the few examples, see Keith Banting ‘Social Citizenship and the Multicultural Welfare State’ (1999), 108–36; Richard G. Fox, Charlotte H. Aull, and Louis F. Cimino, ‘Ethnic Nationalism and the Welfare State’ (1981), 198–245; Nicola McEwen, ‘State Welfare Nationalism: The Territorial Impact of Welfare State Development in Scotland,’ Regional and Federal Studies 12 (2000): 66–90; Nicola McEwen, Nationalism and the State. Welfare and Identity in Scotland and Quebec (2006); Johanne Poirier and Steven Vansteenkiste, ‘Le débat sur la fédéralisation de la sécurité sociale en Belgique: Le miroir du vouloir-vivre ensemble?’ Revue belge de sécurité sociale 2 (2000): 331–79. Furthermore, in their work on East Asian welfare states, Roger Goodman and Ito Peng have stressed the role of social policy in nation-building: ‘The East Asian Welfare States: Peripathetic Learning, Adaptative Change, and Nation-Building’ (1996), 192–224. Our book is distinct from the emerging scholarship on multiculturalism and social policy, which focuses mainly—but not exclusively—on ethnic diversity stemming from immigration: Keith Banting and Will Kymlicka (eds.), Multiculturalism and the Welfare State: Recognition and Redistribution in Contemporary Democracies (2006).

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Understanding the Nationalism–Social Policy Nexus

with a brief explanation of the methodological approach guiding our analysis.

Nationalism and Social Policy The death of sub-state nationalism in Western societies was announced several times over the last hundred years or so, 2 most forcefully so in the 1950s and the 1960s by so-called diffusionist scholars such as Karl Deutsch who equated it with traditionalism and backwardness. 3 From this perspective, sub-state nationalism was anachronistic and, therefore, could not survive the inexorable drive of Western states to complete their political integration. ‘Peripheral’ regions stood little chance of resisting the diffusionist tide comprised of a dominant culture, a spreading market economy, and an expanding state. There was a strong normative slant to this assessment; resistance to integration was seen not only as futile, but wrong-headed as well. The diffusionist thesis was, however, quickly invalidated. In the late 1960s and throughout the 1970s, nationalist movements emerged, reemerged, and even surged in Belgium, Canada, the United Kingdom, and Spain. Not only do these movements still exist, but they in fact represent powerful political forces in these countries. For example, in many cases they reshaped the institutional configuration of the state. Flemish nationalism spearheaded the federalization of the Belgian state. Scottish and, to a lesser degree, Welsh nationalism successfully pushed for devolution. Basque and Catalan nationalism were central actors in the shaping of Spain’s Estado de las Autonomías. In Canada, Québécois nationalism has been a major political force over the last twenty-five years; of all the nationalist movements in the West, it has come closest to achieving secession. There are few signs that sub-state nationalism is a weakening force in these four countries despite renewed talks that globalization and advanced modernity may eventually erase them. The governments of Quebec, Flanders, Scotland, Catalonia, and the Basque Country are still actively redefining their political status within, or outside, their respective states. 4 2 See Michael Keating, Plurinational Democracy: Stateless Nations in a Post-Sovereign Era (2001). 3 Karl Deutsch, Nationalism and Social Communication: An Inquiry into the Formation of Nationality (1966). 4 Alain-G. Gagnon and James Tully (eds.), Multinational Democracies (2001); Alain-G. Gagnon, Montserrat Guibernau, and François Rocher (eds.), The Conditions of Diversity in Multinational Democracies (2003).

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Nationalism is also still alive as a political force in its more inconspicuous state form. Despite the rapid advances of the European Union (EU) and the more modest, ongoing economic integration in North America, state national identities like those in France or Germany remain strong. These identities, perhaps because they have been expressed for a long time, are part of a well-established political order. For this reason, they are often taken for granted, and the processes that reproduce and sustain them are barely noticed. Even more than its sub-state counterpart, state nationalism also has considerable staying power. While some ardent European supranationalists predict its future irrelevance, the nationalism associated with states resurfaces whenever major integrationist projects (e.g. the EU Constitution) are discussed. 5 Nations and nationalism are among the most contested concepts in the social sciences. Debates begin with terminology. In the 1970s, Walker Connor deplored the terminological confusion that permeated studies of nationalism, 6 as different terms—nationalism, ethnicity, tribalism, even chauvinism—were used to refer to a similar phenomenon. Thirty years later, the terminological range has more or less been narrowed to nationalism and ethnicity, 7 though ambiguity remains about what distinguishes the ‘national’ from the ‘ethnic’. Efforts to provide an analytical distinction have stressed different, albeit not necessarily mutually exclusive, aspects. For some, a nation is a self-aware ethnic group. 8 In other words, the ethnic group is an objective reality, whereas the nation has a subjective quality. This is a somewhat arbitrarily imposed distinction because all groups whose members relate to a collective identity (and this would include most ‘ethnic groups’ as the term is used in the literature) are self-aware. For others it is development, most importantly the level of institutionalization, which differentiates nation from ethnic group and nationalism from ethnicity. 9 This position is not without its problems. It 5 The point that, when matters are really important within the EU, states typically adopt a national rather than a supranational perspective is most cogently made by intergovernmentalist theorists. See Andrew Moravcsik, The Choice for Europe: Social Purpose and State Power from Messina to Maastricht (1998). 6 Walker Connor, ‘A Nation is a Nation, is a State, is an Ethnic Group, is a . . . ’ Ethnic and Racial Studies 1 (1978): 378–400. 7 Walker Connor coined the term ethnonationalism. See Ethnonationalism: The Quest for Understanding (1994). 8 Walker Connor, ‘When is a Nation?’ Ethnic and Racial Studies 13 (1990): 92–103. The discussion about what differentiates nation and ethnic group is sometimes conducted by introducing other concepts such as ‘ethnic community’ and ‘ethnic category’. See, for example, Paul Brass, Ethnicity and Nationalism: Theory and Comparison (1991). 9 See, for example, the section on ethno-symbolism in Anthony Smith, Nationalism and Modernism (1998), 170–98.

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seems to attribute nationhood almost exclusively to advanced industrial Western societies while applying the less flattering tag of ethnic group to the developing world and Eastern Europe. Because we understand nationalism to be closely linked to the modern state and its politics, this study uses the concept of nationalism rather than ethnicity. Specifying terminology does not provide us with a ready-made operational definition of nations and nationalism. Simply put, we still need to determine the exact meaning of these concepts. The nation has been defined alternatively in objective and subjective terms. The objective definition links nationhood to the existence of specific cultural, racial, economic, or institutional features. 10 From this perspective, a nation is a group that meets a certain number of requirements, for example, a distinct language, culture, religion, ancestry, and economic system (or institutional framework). The subjective definition suggests that a nation is the product of a collective act of will. 11 In other words, it is not defined by specific markers but rather by a common willingness to live together. From this perspective, a nation is a group whose members (or a significant number of them, at least) think they form a nation. We find both definitions overly simplistic. A nation typically combines both objective and subjective aspects. On the one hand, the abstract idea of a desire for common living rarely manifests itself in the absence of some type of objective criteria (cultural, religious, political, or institutional), but on the other hand, sharing specific markers becomes a national dynamic only if accompanied by a sense of bonding. A working definition of the nation must thus feature both subjective and objective dimensions. A nation is animated not only by a sense of togetherness but also by a belief in a common destiny supported by an overarching identity. Members of a nation are typically seen to exhibit a solidarity that overwhelms connections with outsiders and renders secondary internal cleavages of class or gender. We do not mean by this that nations are coherent, monolithic wholes, only that they generally command loyalty from most of their members. This type of solidarity and loyalty is most often observed when most members of a group share some 10 The classic objective definition comes from an unlikely source, Stalin. See the reprinted excerpt in John Hutchinson and Anthony D. Smith (eds.), Nationalism (1994), 18–21. More recent objective definitions tend to present criteria, some of which are subjective. For example, David Miller’s list features shared beliefs, history, and mutual commitment alongside a distinct public culture. See On Nationality (1995). 11 The classic statement is Renan’s. See parts of his ‘Qu’est-ce qu’une nation?’ in Hutchinson and Smith (eds.), Nationalism, 17–18. Hugh Seton-Watson simply said that a nation exists if a substantial number of people claim to form a nation. See Nations and States (1977), 5–11.

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cultural markers, or at minimum, a belief in a common past and history. Such a statement does not presuppose any causal mechanism between, on the one hand, cultural and historical narratives and, on the other, nationalism: we are not saying here that culture necessarily triggers identity and nationalism. In fact, nations and nationalism cannot be defined without mentioning political institutions, because autonomy, or independence, is the foremost objective of nationalism. With this in mind, we define nation as a territorially anchored group whose members commonly share a special sense of solidarity and identity associated with common cultural markers and/or history, and who claim, in the name of this solidarity and identity, a distinct political status. 12 In this context, nationalism becomes a movement that seeks to gain, maintain, or accentuate the political autonomy of its group of reference, the nation. Nationalism is frequently viewed as an ideology or an idea. This is largely true, of course, but we argue that it is also a form of politics and that benefits accrue from analysing it as such. The above discussion highlights two key concepts used in this study to connect nationalism and social policy: solidarity and identity. Let us now turn to social policy. Although its origins can be traced back to the Elizabethan Poor Laws, the social insurance schemes created in late nineteenth-century Germany are frequently cited as the first step in the emergence of modern social policy systems. Primarily designed to fight economic insecurity related to work accidents, old age, unemployment, and sickness, social policy was defined by British sociologist T.H. Marshall as ‘the policy of governments with regard to action having a direct impact on the welfare of the citizens by providing them with services and income’. 13 Although we should acknowledge that social policies are not always state-centred (i.e. labour unions, employers, and insurance companies can develop and manage social programmes), this definition is a fine starting point for our inquiry as it underlines the distinction 12 Jean-Pierre Derriennic, Nationalisme et démocratie: Les illusions des indépendantistes québécois (1995), 17–18; and Anthony D. Smith, ‘Nationalism, A Trend Report and Annotated Bibliography,’ Current Sociology 21 (1973): 18, 26, cited in Smith, Nationalism and Modernism, 188. Of course, it would be wrong to assume that all group members share this special sense of solidarity and/or that they do it all the time. For the idea of nation to have some credibility, however, a substantial number of group members must feel such sentiments of solidarity. 13 T. H. Marshall, Social Policy (1965), 1. In the context of this study, social policy would concern only social services and income maintenance programmes, not public education. For an interesting and widely debated discussion about the nature of modern social policy, see Gøsta Esping-Andersen, The Three Worlds of Welfare Capitalism (1990). This author’s discussion about welfare regimes is not essential for this book, which compares three societies that share characteristics not discussed by Esping-Andersen: for example the presence of sub-state nationalism on their territory.

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between social services and income maintenance programmes, the two types of measure featured in our analysis. Social services provide citizens and targeted populations with in-kind provisions like health care and job training. They can become a crucial issue for nationalist mobilization as services deal directly with language-related issues. At the national as well as the regional level, the language in which social services are available to the population can become a significant source of political debate and mobilization. 14 For their part, income maintenance programmes generally involve financial redistribution between individuals, age cohorts, and regional entities. Because income maintenance programmes may have a perceived territorial bias, they can be depicted by nationalist and other political leaders as unfair to the constituency they represent. Inversely, nationalist voices may argue that their constituency is losing money as poorer regions receive an ‘excessive’ proportion of income maintenance funds. From time to time, this type of argument can also apply to social services, particularly health care. Another significant distinction concerns how social programmes are financed and social rights allocated. Using financing and eligibility criteria as variables, one can identify three main types of social programme: social assistance, social insurance, and universal transfers and services. Social assistance programmes generally offer means-tested or incometested transfers and services, usually financed by the state’s general revenues. These policies target the poor and other underprivileged segments of the population while involving direct and explicit financial transfers from the state. In liberal countries like Canada, the United Kingdom, and the United States, social assistance programmes can become politically vulnerable when conservative politicians attack them on the basis of personal responsibility. 15 Yet it is possible that, under specific circumstances, state generosity towards deprived segments of the population may be construed as a symbol of national distinctiveness and solidarity. Second, social insurance programmes are contributory in nature; individuals can access income benefits and services only if they have previously contributed to the programme for a predetermined period of time and/or a specified amount of money. 16 The structure of social insurance systems 14 The long debate surrounding the closure of the Montfort Hospital in Ontario illustrates that logic. 15 For a discussion of the US experience, see Theda Skocpol, ‘Sustainable Social Policy: Fighting Poverty without Poverty Programmes,’ The American Prospect 2 (Summer 1990): 58–70. 16 This does not mean that social insurance programmes do not involve some form of redistribution.

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varies immensely from one country to another, and the territorial as well as professional organization of these schemes shapes their political and ideological meaning. Considering that social insurance systems generally have a greater number of beneficiaries than social assistance programmes, they are a major source of contention in Western democracies, and in some cases, a powerful symbol of national identity and/or regional discontent. Third, universal services and transfers are available to all citizens and frequently to permanent residents. In most cases, general state revenues finance these transfers and services. Because of their link with citizenship, universal transfers and services have long been framed as symbols of national unity and solidarity. This is especially true in the case of universal health services that are often explicitly grounded in citizenship. These three types of social programmes are frequently subsumed under an umbrella concept: the welfare state. This concept refers to stateoperated social programmes that form a major aspect of public spending in advanced industrial societies. The following quotation underlines the link between the concepts of social policy and welfare state: The welfare state is generally understood to encompass state interference with the operation of market forces in order to protect or promote the material well-being of individuals, families, or groups on grounds of fairness, compassion, or justice.’ 17

If the concept of welfare state rightly emphasizes the key role of the state in income maintenance and the allocation of social services, it may also obscure the fact that social policy in the broad sense of the term is not always synonymous with statism. In Bismarckian countries like Belgium, France, and Germany, ‘social partners’ (i.e. employers and labour unions) are formally involved in the management of specific social insurance schemes that may officially fall outside the state apparatus. In many cases, these schemes are fragmented among professional categories that have little to do with equal citizenship. Although the state provides the legal framework for such insurance schemes, the politics of social policy reform is slightly different in countries that possess a social insurance system rooted in corporatist or quasi-corporatist management. This is true because fragmented social insurance schemes can feature a tension between occupational and national solidarity. 18 The Belgian case features 17

Stephen Brooks, ‘Social Policy,’ in Public Policy in Canada: An Introduction (1998), 120. Daniel Béland and Randall Hansen, ‘Reforming the French Welfare State: Solidarity, Social Exclusion and the Three Crises of Citizenship,’ West European Politics 23, 1 (2000): 47–64. The private sector can also become a direct provider of social services as well as income benefits and their families. For example, in many countries, tax-sheltered, private pensions have become a massive source of financial investment and economic security for workers: 18

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that tension prominently. Moreover, considering the central role of the social partners in the management of the social insurance system in Belgium, we do not use the term ‘welfare state’ in reference to this case.

Six Claims about the Nationalism–Social Policy Nexus How does social policy factor into the politics of sub-state nationalism? What are the consequences of sub-state nationalism for social policy arrangements? These are, broadly speaking, the questions guiding our empirical investigation. Exploring these questions, the present section presents six claims about the relationship between sub-state nationalism and social policy that specify the nature, dynamic, and consequences of the connections. What unites these claims is the overreaching argument that, under most circumstances, nationalism and social policy are closely related. Subsequent empirical chapters will bring support to these claims, which help understand the complex meshing of social policy and nationalism in Belgium, Canada, and the United Kingdom. 1. In developed multinational countries, both the state and at least one substate government are likely to use social policy to foster and promote competing national solidarities and identities. The politics of Western multinational states is permeated by conflicting claims of nationhood, articulated respectively by the state and by leaders of a nationalist movement (or the regional institutions they control). In these types of states, social policy plays a particularly vital role in the construction of nationhood. 19 From a historical perspective, nationbuilding as spearheaded by the state has been associated mainly with national educations systems, bureaucratization and international conflict. Nation-building through the state is, more often than not, analyzed only as a process specific to the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, that is, it is considered to have come to a stop sometime in the twentieth century. Associated with the work of Ernest Gellner, 20 this type of thinking takes the nation for granted in at least two respects. First, it makes the false assumption that all the national projects in the developed West Jacob S. Hacker, The Divided Welfare State: The Battle over Public and Private Social Benefits in the United States (2002); Christopher Howard, The Hidden Welfare State: Tax Expenditures and Social Policy in the United States (1997). 19 20

McEwen, ‘State Welfare Nationalism’. Ernest Gellner, Nations and Nationalism (1983).

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were ‘completely’ successful in so far as they eliminated all competing nationalist movements. Second, it assumes that, once a nation is formed, it will naturally survive and thrive without any reinforcing mechanism or support. These assumptions contradict the findings of most contemporary research on nationalism. 21 In fact, the nation needs to be constantly reproduced, and this is where social policy is useful. Reinforcing nationhood through cultural assimilation (even if it does not involve overt repression) has become a problematic option because the state must conform to national, continental, and international standards on minority rights. Relying on the political and legal dimensions of citizenship to ensure national cohesion is a risky proposition. Not only has the integrative effect of these types of rights probably peaked decades ago with the advent of universal suffrage, but it is difficult to give them more substance for the purpose of strengthening national bonds when the nation projected by the state is being challenged. After all, one cannot be given ‘more’ right to vote (although citizens can be obliged to do so), and in many cases, constitutional efforts to improve the protection of basic liberties may not be readily apparent to citizens. Social rights are a more potent force for strengthening the national community conceptualized by the state. Many have argued that social policy works to forge a bond in capitalist societies where social and economic cleavages have the potential to become deeply polarizing. 22 This idea should be extended to situations of cultural diversity or, more to the point, to multinationalism. 23 At the most basic level, as Maurizio Ferrera and others suggest, social policy involves mechanisms of inclusion and exclusion that allow it to build intersubjective and institutional boundaries and to frame, in its own terms, the national community. 24 Perhaps more importantly, its redistributive nature builds a substantive bond between citizens that state actors can depict as profound national ties. In a sense, the existence of social programmes and concrete economic solidarity may help substantiate the existence of a community whose members typically do not have face-to-face relations. Independently of their degree of politicization, citizens are likely to share a basic understanding of social 21 Jack Eller and Reed Coughlan, ‘The poverty of Primordialism: The Demystification of Ethnic Attachments,’ Ethnic and Racial Studies 16, 2 (1993): 183–202. 22 This was T. H. Marshall’s argument framed in the language of citizenship. 23 Martin Papillon and Luc Turgeon, ‘Nationalism’s Third Way? Comparing the Emergence of Citizenship Regimes in Quebec and Scotland’ (2003), 315–45 (note 3). 24 On the concept of ‘boundaries’ as it applies to social policy analysis see Maurizio Ferrera, The Boundaries of Welfare: European Integration and the New Spatial Politics of Social Protection (2005).

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policy as involving the pooling of fiscal resources for the purpose of redistributing income and fighting economic insecurity. This ‘commonness’ is what generates feelings of national solidarity, because the status of participants in social programmes frequently overlaps with that of national citizenry. 25 Of course, this conflation of role, membership, and identity is not a given; rather, it is the constructed product of a state discourse which places social policy at the centre of national solidarity. In other words, the nation and the welfare community are presented as one. Social provisions may hold crucial instrumental value for strengthening nationhood in multinational states in part because they can be manipulated and adjusted to the particular circumstances of the time and place. A state struggling against powerful nationalist movements can choose to launch new social programmes to gain, regain, or preserve the loyalty of a population being targeted by nationalist leaders seeking to increase political autonomy or achieve independence. In the short term, the objective may be to ‘buy’ the loyalty of these citizens by offering them more generous social benefits. Of course, this thinking can extend to the longer term as well, but from this perspective a perhaps more significant objective is to foster a sense of identification with the state and the nation it projects. In doing so, social policy not only generates a formal community of contributors and recipients, frequently conceptualized in national terms, but it also makes subjective connections between the nation and certain sets of values. In this context, the state may promote, for example, the idea of nation as fundamentally imbued by egalitarian principles (in the social democratic sense) or guided by the virtues of compassion and care (in the Christian-democratic sense). The instrumentality of social programmes is not absolute, as many types of constraints can interfere with their nation-building purpose. A decline in economic productivity, the rising costs of social programmes like public health insurance, or simply an ideological shift such as the advent of neo-liberalism may constrain social policy expansion or even lead to retrenchment. 26 In this context, the advantages for citizens to invest their loyalty in the nation promoted by the central state could diminish. From a broader perspective, social policy retrenchment can mean the weakening 25 Yet, in part as a consequence of European integration, the legal connection between citizenship and social policy has been weakened in EU counties (ibid.); Maurizio Ferrera, ‘European Integration and National Social Citizenship: Changing Boundaries, New Structuring?’ Comparative Political Studies 36, 6 (August 2003): 611–52. 26 On the concept of retrenchment see Paul Pierson, Dismantling the Welfare State? Reagan, Thatcher, and the Politics of Retrenchment (1994); Paul Pierson (ed.), The New Politics of the Welfare State (2001).

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of a practical manifestation of nationhood. It may also involve a loss in the symbolic value of social policy as a reflection of qualities associated with the nation. Of course, this is not overly problematic in nationstates where retrenchment is much more likely to trigger class, rather than nationalist, conflicts. The identity and territorial consequences of social policy retrenchment and restructuring are more far-reaching in multinational states where there are, at least for some citizens, alternative forms of national identification available. In multinational states with federal or significantly decentralized structures, the use of social benefits as a nation-building tool is a two-way street. The politics of sub-state nationalism is also very likely to deal with social policy, especially because federations typically decentralize part of their social policy system in a more comprehensive way than most unitary states. 27 From this perspective, it is somewhat misleading to speak of one welfare state, at least in the sense of a coherent, individualized unit, as there are at least two prominent, and frequently competing, territorial levels of social policy intervention. In a situation of multinationalism where the group making claims for the existence of a distinct nation controls regional institutions empowered to develop specific social programmes, a decentralized social policy system is likely to become a key force in the overall political and territorial struggle. Similar to what the case may be at the level of the central state, regional governments may seek the support of their inhabitants by providing distinct, and more generous, social benefits. Alternatively, they can offer a more fiscally conservative approach than the central state, which they may choose to describe as wasteful. The support sought by a nationalist political party is far-reaching not only because it involves the discrete approval of a socio-economic political platform, but also because it features the commitment to a nation different from the one promoted by the central state and to political objectives of autonomy or independence. In this context, the presence of a social programme at the sub-state level can be used to build up loyalty to the regional government at the expense of, or in addition to, the central state, thereby fostering solidarity among members of the nation it promotes. In other words, a decentralized social policy system could suggest the existence of a distinct community with its own mechanisms and its own logic of solidarity and redistribution. The central role of social policy as a generator of social and political solidarity is well understood 27 Of course, this does not imply that welfare decentralization occurs only in multinational states.

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by nationalist leaders who tend to seek the decentralization of social policy, or at least fight its centralization. In the same vein, sub-state social programmes may be interpreted by nationalist leaders as reflecting and embodying distinct national values, priorities, and even character. As such, they can be framed as a symbol of nationhood. This is especially true when these programmes diverge from their state-level equivalents. Our contention that nationalist movements use social policy for the purpose of nation-building may appear surprising, but this is only because sub-state nationalism is not as readily associated with social policy as state nationalism and because sub-state nationalist claims have typically been associated with cultural markers. However, the logic of nationalism is similar whether it operates at the state or sub-state level. The connection between social benefits and sub-state nationalism is more recent than with state nationalism, but at least three changes in contextual conditions over the last two decades or so are making it increasingly apparent and important. First, the great linguistic struggles that marked Canada and Belgium starting in the 1960s and Spain beginning in the 1980s have been mostly settled. Second, the central position that language has traditionally occupied in sub-state nationalism in the Western world is increasingly becoming a political handicap. As a consequence, these nationalist movements generally seek to present themselves as modern, open, forward-looking, and perhaps most importantly, civic. In other words, they attempt to dissociate themselves from racist, xenophobic, or at least, illiberal stereotypes and sometimes histories. Finally, nationalist movements in Scotland, Flanders, Catalonia, and the Basque Country did not have political institutions to control before the 1980s and 1990s, and therefore could not create social programmes independently of the political centre. Only in recent years have these regions gained enough institutional autonomy to significantly affect social policy development. 2. Social policy often becomes a major component of the effort of nationalist movements to build and consolidate national identity, and an important target for nationalist mobilization as well. The importance of social policy in nationalist politics is less evident than that of culture and language, the markers traditionally associated with nationalism, but it is, we argue, very real. The construction and expression of national identity at the sub-state level has typically featured references to a distinct culture and/or history. Cultural distinctiveness, particularly in language, can serve as a relatively straightforward criterion for defining the national community, that is, for specifying who should be included 23


and excluded. Furthermore, once the contours of the nation have been determined, culture acts as a powerful reference for national identity because it features symbolic meanings that can offer binding ties to a community. For example, nationalist leaders can trace the history (real, reinvented, or imagined) of a cultural or linguistic group in such a way as to emphasise its continuity, resilience, and dynamism. They create myths and symbols (e.g. flags, hymns, and holidays) that recall this history and serve as everyday reminders of the existence of the nation. 28 This type of symbolic output has traditionally been at the centre of its process of identity production and reproduction. We do not claim that social provisions have replaced culture and history as the markers of, and building blocks for, national identities but simply that, in certain states, they have increasingly been added to the mix of identity markers. In other words, social policy can serve to establish identity distinctiveness in a different manner from, but parallel to, culture and/or history. Like culture, social policy can be treated and articulated by nationalist leaders as symbols of a wider set of values, social priorities, and political culture. It also represents a tangible manifestation of the existence of a political community. After all, health care and income support programmes are, much like culture, present in the everyday life of individuals, and are believed to increase social cohesion. 29 Another way to look at the impact of social policy on the construction and expression of national identities is to study not so much how social policy can play culture’s role, but rather how social policy can intersect with it. Social services, such as health care, that involve person-to-person contacts and oral communication become instrumental in the development of sub-state identities in multilingual societies. Language issues and debates over the delivery of social services intersect. This is why the Belgian federalization process, driven by the Flemish Movement, involved the decentralization to Communities of ‘personalised matters’ (matières personnalisables), that is, a policy field where services are provided through personal contact. Income maintenance programmes can also become essential tools of identity formation as nationalist leaders may claim that their eligibility criteria and benefit structure should reflect specific, national conceptions of economic solidarity and family relations. 28 Andre Lecours, ‘Ethnonationalism in the West: A Theoretical Exploration,’ Nationalism and Ethnic Politics 6 (2000): 103–24. 29 On the concept of social cohesion, see Jane Jenson and Denis Saint-Martin, ‘New Routes to Social Cohesion? Citizenship and the Social Investment State,’ Canadian Journal of Sociology 28, 1 (2003): 77–99.

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Much like identity construction and expression, nationalist mobilization is often centred on cultural distinctiveness. In retracing or reinventing the history of their groups, nationalist leaders usually define an enemy said to threaten the cultural integrity of the group. 30 These narratives on cultural oppressors serve to mobilize populations to gain political power, territorial autonomy, and legal protections for language and culture. If the ‘enemy’ tag is applied to a central government rather than, or in addition to, another group, jurisdictional battles stemming from the federal or decentralized nature of political systems can become a powerful source of nationalist mobilization at the sub-state level. In this context, social policy becomes the focus of a political and territorial competition. The nature of this competition is quite different from the one that may also occur in other policy areas. Indeed, social policy is frequently at the heart of the idea of a community; it is therefore connected with sets of collective values. Social policy can be integrated with a broader mobilization discourse by nationalist leaders who argue that social benefits are threatened by the selfish and irresponsible actions of the other government(s), and that increased political autonomy, or even independence, represents the only way to preserve, and perhaps improve, the quality of social benefits and services for the community. Nationalist leaders can also suggest that autonomy or independence is needed for their community because it pursues social and economic objectives that are fundamentally different from the ones of the central state. 3. The focus of nationalist movements on social policy is not simply the product of economic self-interest, yet references to the fairness of financial transfers between territorial entities become effective mobilization strategies. Differences between national communities are social and political constructions, and social policy has become an instrument of territorial differentiation in the symbolic struggles over political autonomy and power. Yet the fact that nationalist movements use social policy to increase their support and shape the perception of territorial identities does not mean that differences in economic interests are the main force driving the politics of territorial solidarity. Indeed, contrary to what purely materialist and rationalist approaches to politics suggest, the focus of nationalist 30 David Brown, ‘Are There Good and Bad Nationalisms?’ Nations and Nationalism 5 (1999): 299–301.

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movements on social policy, including claims for decentralization, is not simply the production of a cost-benefit analysis. It would be simplistic at best to understand nationalist politics as a mere reflection of the objective economic interests of the regions where nationalist movements operate. Nationalist movements may put forward claims for the decentralization of social policy even if the economic consequences of such change are uncertain or even negative. At the same time, impressions of unfairness or even exploitation stimulate nationalist mobilization. As controversies rage over which groups benefit from existing or proposed territorial organization of social programmes, the nationalist discourse over territorial autonomy and social policy is really an attempt to alter the perception of whose economic interests are, or would be, best served under specific arrangements. 31 In short, the territorial distribution of financial resources through social programmes often feeds, in one way or another, the requisite feelings of injustice needed to sustain the type of nationalist mobilization necessary to put forward credible claims for the decentralization of social policy. 4. It is intrinsic to the nature of contemporary (sub-state) nationalism that it puts forward claims about the existence of a national unit of solidarity where co-nationals have a special obligation to each other’s welfare, a situation viewed as being best fulfilled by having control over social policy. The special sense of solidarity involved in nationalism has consequences for its connection to social policy. Nationalist movements are inclined to create social programmes within the institutions they control. This is so, we argue, independently of their instrumental uses for mobilization. In other words, nationalist movements seeking the decentralization of social programmes is not a process driven purely, even primarily, by a cost-benefit analysis. What is more important here is that both nationalism and social policy are framed in reference to the idea of solidarity. Nationalism depicts itself as the political expression of a special sense of solidarity among human beings. Although occupational divisions between social insurance schemes exist in many countries, social policy is generally meant to reinforce solidarity between citizens. In this setting, abstract notions of community and solidarity can be transformed into formal relationships involving duties, rights, and redistribution. 32 31 On the social and political construction of economic interests see Mark Blyth, Great Transformations: Economic Ideas and Institutional Change in the 20th Century (2002); Colin Hay, ‘Constructivist Institutionalism: Or, Why Interests into Ideas Don’t Go,’ Paper Presented at the Annual Meeting of the American Political Science Association, Philadelphia, 31 August 2006. 32 Miller, On Nationality, 67–68.

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National solidarity is a political and ideological construct that owes much to nationalism as a political force and, in contemporary liberal democracies, to social policy. In this context, social policy ‘is both the vehicle whereby common ideals can be expressed and the means whereby a society consciously reproduces its own identity’. 33 In multinational states, the formal solidarity of citizenship, as expressed by some social programmes, is rarely congruent with sub-state nationalism’s sense of cultural and linguistic solidarity. In other words, members of a community that considers itself a nation distinct from the one projected by the central state usually prioritize this sub-state national bond. 34 In this context, nationalist movements will often seek to bring social distributive policies into their version of a national framework. They can make this adjustment fully and rapidly by achieving independence for their community. This is, of course, sometimes perceived as a radical option that is politically difficult to achieve for several different reasons, most notably because garnering popular support for secession is not an easy task. This is especially true when the central state distributes highprofile social benefits in a region where sub-state nationalism is influential. Because it is more readily feasible than independence, nationalist movements are more likely to seek the partial congruence between their national community and redistribution, or at least to proceed gradually towards their full coincidence, by attempting to decentralize elements of social policy. One could argue that, in the long run, this could make independence more likely as the declining reliance of citizens on social programmes operated by the central state may reduce the apparent social and political legitimacy of that state in regions where a nationalist movement is active. 5. Independently of the concrete effect of nationalist movements on policy outcomes, sub-state nationalism impacts the policy agenda and the framing processes that shape the debates over social policy and territorial solidarity in multinational states. Students of social policy in multinational countries like Belgium, Canada, and the United Kingdom too often overlook nationalism as a key factor for explaining social policy reform, or lack of it. 35 However, even when 33

Ibid., 111. This is reflected in self-identification survey data. For Scotland, see David McCrone, Understanding Scotland: The Sociology of a Nation (2001), 163. 35 For examples of social policy research that pays insufficient attention to nationalism see James J. Rice and Michael J. Prince, Changing Politics of Canadian Social Policy (2000); Daniel 34

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they fail to implement decentralization proposals, nationalist movements often play a major role in the contemporary politics of social policy in multinational states. This is true because these movements can reshape the policy agenda by putting forward specific alternatives and forcing other actors to debate them. 36 For example, nationalist parties can help construct issues like fiscal disparities between regions as serious policy problems debated at both the state and the sub-state levels. Consequently, when nationalist forces gain power in a specific region, they tend to reshape the social policy agenda at the sub-state, and in some contexts, at the state level. Of course, this does not mean that nationalist forces have full control over the policy agenda, but rather that they can successfully pressure sub-state and state policy-makers to address specific issues that are essential to them. Far from being confined to merely ‘local problems’, issues raised by nationalist movements sometimes have wideranging economic and social significance for the broader society. Moreover, nationalist forces may shape expert debates over policy alternatives. Although technical in nature, expert debates can reflect cultural and political assumptions about ‘national unity’ that impact the construction of policy alternatives. For example, nationalism can structure the elaboration of family policy grounded in assumptions about the suitable demographic equilibrium between national groups living in a particular territory. Finally, and more importantly, nationalist movements can act as ‘policy entrepreneurs’ promoting specific policy alternatives in the political arena. These remarks point to the central role of framing in the agenda-setting processes surrounding the nationalism–social policy nexus. During the agenda-setting process, nationalist discourse can frame the issues in a way that supports concrete policy alternatives. This central role of framing processes is related to the fact that the political field 37 is a structured arena Wincott, ‘Social Policy and Social Citizenship: Britain’s Welfare States,’ Publius: The Journal of Federalism, 36, 1 (2006): 169–88. 36 The concept of agenda indicates ‘the list of subjects or problems to which governmental officials, and people outside of government closely associated with those officials, are paying some serious attention to at any given time’. Consequently, agenda setting is the process that narrows the ‘set of conceivable subjects to the set that actually becomes the focus of attention’. While the term ‘agenda’ refers to that cluster of issues considered to be the ‘pressing problems of the moment’, alternatives represent the policy options available to solve these problems: John W. Kingdon, Agendas, Alternatives and Public Policy (1995), 3–4. On agenda setting, see also Frank R. Baumgartner and Bryan D. Jones, Agendas and Instability in American Politics ( 1993); Stuart N. Soroka, Agenda-Setting Dynamics in Canada (2002). 37 Pierre Bourdieu, ‘Political Representation: Elements for a Theory of the Political Field’ (1991), 171–202.

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of conflict in which ideas and discourse form ‘weapons of mass persuasion’ that help shape the perception of self-interests, shared values, and existing institutional arrangements. Studies about framing processes have shown that political actors succeed in imposing certain policy ideas partly because they appeal to the public through the mobilization of shared cultural and political symbols. 38 A framing process is at least partially a strategic and deliberate activity designed to generate public support for a specific policy option while constructing the general ‘need to reform’. 39 The capacity to communicate ideological frames to the targeted public is essential to politicians interested in justifying their policy preferences via, for example, social policy decentralization. 40 From this perspective, the ability to frame a policy option in a politically and culturally acceptable and desirable manner is a key factor that can help explain why some policy proposals triumph over others and why reforms occur in the first place. During legislative debates, as well as after the enactment process, policy-makers have to justify their political and technical choices, and the discourse about national values and identity is one of the ideological devices available to them. In multinational states, drawing on existing national symbols and alleged cultural differences between nations is especially tempting because ‘national unity’ is a contested issue that carries much emotional weight. Considering this, politicians can refer to national unity and solidarity in order to legitimate their policy preferences and attack alternative proposals. Nationalist symbols are thereby used at both the state and the sub-state levels to back or attack particular policy alternatives. More concretely, nationalist movements frame a discourse about an alleged ‘value gap’ between regions (the idea that two communities have sharply distinct values and priorities) as well as the above-mentioned self-interest talk in order to convince the population to support policy decentralization or even independence. 38 For an overview of this literature, see Daniel Béland, ‘Ideas and Social Policy: An Institutionalist Perspective,’ Social Policy & Administration 39 (2005): 1–18. 39 Robert H. Cox, ‘The Social Construction of an Imperative: Why Welfare Reform Happened in Denmark and the Netherlands but not in Germany,’ World Politics 53 (2001): 463–98. 40 John L. Campbell, ‘Institutional Analysis and the Role of Ideas in Political Economy,’ Theory and Society 27 (1998): 377–409. For a broader discussion of the impact of frames and ideas on institutional change, see Blyth, Great Transformations; John L. Campbell, Institutional Change and Globalization (2004); Vivien A. Schmidt, The Futures of European Capitalism (2002). In a sense, the need for policy-makers to frame issues using culturally accepted repertoires shows that ‘public opinion matters’. On the role of public opinion, see Paul Burstein, ‘Bringing the Public Back in: Should Sociologists Consider the Impact of Public Opinion on Public Policy?’ Social Forces 77 (1998): 27–62.

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6. The consequences of sub-state nationalism for social policy development are variable, and the presence of strong nationalist movements does not necessarily favour an erosion of welfare at the state or sub-state level. Nationalist mobilization does not necessarily erode social policy at the state or the sub-state level. 41 This is true in part because sub-state nationalism does not always embrace fiscal conservatism and social policy retrenchment. While some nationalist movements are on the right and therefore have an ideological predisposition to be critical of extensive redistribution, others are located to the left of the political spectrum and traditionally support a social-democratic vision of solidarity and social citizenship. In the latter case, there is support for the expansion of social policy at the sub-state level. In turn, this is sometimes matched by a similar dynamic at the state level, as state politicians will mobilize social programmes themselves to foster (state) national identity in the face of a sub-state, nationalist challenge. This discussion about the impact of sub-state nationalism on social policy development can speak to the well-known scholarly debate on the relationship between federalism and social policy. States where there are strong nationalist movements are often federal, or at least grant some form of political autonomy to a region. Two of our cases, Canada and Belgium, are federations, while the third, the United Kingdom, features territories that enjoy political autonomy. In this context, our research on nationalism suggests some propositions on federalism, as they both relate to social policy. Indeed, our analysis supports the claim that federalism is not always an obstacle to social policy expansion. More importantly, federal arrangements do not necessarily favour a ‘race to the bottom’ according to which fiscal competition between sub-state jurisdictions triggers an overall decline in social benefits. 42 For example, in Canada during the 1950s and 1960s, competition between the provinces and the federal government favoured the enactment of a decentralized yet 41 For a systematic discussion of this issue that refers to our three cases see Nicola McEwen, ‘Does the Recognition of National Minorities Undermine the Welfare State?’ (2006), 247–71. 42 Alain Noël, ‘Is Decentralization Conservative? Federalism and the Contemporary Debate on the Canadian Welfare State’ (1999), 195–219; Herbert Obinger, Stephan Leibfried, and Francis G. Castles (eds.), Federalism and the Welfare State: New World and European Experiences (2005); Bruno Théret, Protection sociale et fédéralisme: L’Europe dans le miroir de l’Amérique du Nord ( 2002); Wincott, ‘Social Policy and Social Citizenship’.

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universal health insurance system that remains in place today. 43 From this angle, under specific institutional and ideological circumstances, federalism can stimulate the development of generous social programmes. Yet, we must keep in mind that there are different types of federalism and that, consequently, there is no universal rule about the relationship between federalism and social policy development. Consequently, what is true about Canadian federalism may not apply to Belgian or US federalism, for example. 44 It would therefore be misleading to assume that federalism, much like sub-state nationalism, always promotes or impedes social policy expansion. As we stressed previously, despite existing ideational and institutional differences, nationalist movements typically support the decentralization of social policy. Yet there will not necessarily be a convergence in the impact of sub-state nationalism on social policy development. As a result of powerful institutional constraints and policy legacies, nationalist mobilization does not always result in substantial policy decentralization. For example, the presence of entrenched policy legacies can become a major and enduring obstacle to decentralization, and, therefore, to the erosion of welfare and redistribution at the state level. This occurs because, once enacted, public policies tend to create powerful constituencies that constrain future policy decisions. Institutions and policies tend to reproduce over time, thus change is constrained, at least in policy areas where powerful constituencies exist. 45 Overall, extensive public policies are often difficult to reform. Social insurance schemes that cover most if not the entire working population are striking examples of public policies that create powerful feedback effects militating against path-departing change. As the discussion about Belgium will suggest, this general remark about the stickiness of existing institutional legacies applies perfectly to the nationalism–social policy nexus. This discussion about the role of institutional legacies in the meshing of nationalism and social policy points to one of the major factors that will inform our comparative analysis. 43 Antonia Maioni, Parting at the Crossroads: The Emergence of Health Insurance in the United States and Canada (1998). 44 Bruno Théret, ‘Des relations d’interdépendance qui peuvent être positives ou negatives selon le type de fédéralisme,’ Lien social et politiques, 56 (2006): 41–56. 45 Paul Pierson, Politics in Time: History, Institutions, and Social Analysis (2004). For a critical discussion of this literature, see Elisabeth S. Clemens and James M. Cook, ‘Politics and Institutionalism: Explaining Durability and Change,’ Annual Review of Sociology 25 (1999): 441–66; Kathleen Thelen, How Institutions Evolve: The Political Economy of Skills in Germany, Britain, the United States, and Japan (2004). See also Campbell, Institutional Change and Globalization

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The following section briefly discusses such factors in a more systematic manner.

Analytical Considerations We make no claim that social policy is the only, or even the most important, force shaping nation-building and nationalist mobilization in Western states, or that nationalism is the foremost influence on social policy. Rather, our concern is to delve into a relationship that has largely been neglected. At the same time, we seek to remain sensitive to other factors that mediate the relationship between nationalism and social policy. It is time to discuss the impact these mediating forces can have on the nationalism–social policy nexus. Such analytical considerations will help explain key characteristics of, and major differences between, our three cases.

Socio-economic factors Territorial patterns of socio-economic development may affect the connection between nationalism and social policy. We could expect inhabitants of wealthier regions, for example, to be more supportive of the decentralization of social policy than those of poorer ones, because a centralized social policy system often is a mechanism of territorial redistribution. In this context, nationalist leaders in wealthier regions can make the plausible claim that they are subsidizing poorer regions. Through the elaboration of frames and discourses that stress the economic differences between specific regions, they may be able to tap into a weak (state) national identity and solidarity to focus nationalist mobilization on the issue of decentralizing social policy. Such a process may have the capacity to reshape the policy agenda and promote decentralization as an inescapable policy alternative that would serve the interests of the ‘fiscally oppressed nation’. This logic corresponds perfectly to the dynamic between Flanders and Wallonia in Belgium (Chapter 4). Yet, as suggested above, nationalist claims cannot always be directly drawn from structural differences in socio-economic development and so-called ‘material self-interest’. For example, Scotland, a relatively disadvantaged region within the United Kingdom (at least in comparison to southern England) features a nationalist movement that has long supported social policy decentralization through home rule. 32


Beyond socio-economic disparities, a significant societal aspect of territorial politics is the role of autonomous regional organizations like business groups, churches, labour unions, and professional associations. In the case of Quebec, for example, the Catholic Church played a major role in defending the political and policy autonomy of the province up to the 1960s. In recent decades, Quebec labour unions have supported the nationalist quest for autonomy and even independence, and, in Scotland, the Scottish Trades Union Congress (STUC) played a major role in the quest for devolution in the 1990s. Although this book argues that autonomous regional organizations strongly impact territorial politics, it would be exaggerated to think that the politics of decentralization in multinational states is essentially the product of actors such as bureaucratic elites, business organizations, professional groups, and labour unions. 46

Ideological factors As we have already suggested, concrete socio-economic discrepancies may not be as essential as differences in political ideology related to the left– right dichotomy that may alter the perception of economic disparities through framing processes. 47 Nationalist claims in a poorer region are more likely to include the decentralization of social benefits when there are consistent differences with respect to the desired amount of social spending and the allocation of fiscal resources between regional and central governments. These ideological differences clearly affect the deliberation over policy alternatives such as social policy decentralization. For example, leaders of a social democratic party facing a central government controlled by fiscal conservatives can argue that their preferences are for their community to enjoy more generous social programmes. This corresponds roughly to the Scottish experience during the Thatcher years (Chapter 3). If fiscal conservatives dominate in a disadvantaged region, it may be that nationalist mobilization can build around claims of exaggerated spending on the part of the central government. For wealthier regions, nationalist claims for social policy decentralization may be more 46 For example, Scott L. Greer rightly points out the central role of regional elites and organizations in nationalist politics, but his approach can obscure the multifaceted nature of nationalism and the relationship between sub-state nationalism and the quest for policy autonomy, as opposed to strict secession. See Nationalism and Self-Government: The Politics of Autonomy in Scotland and Catalonia (2007). 47 On the left-right dichotomy see Norberto Bobbio, Left and Right: The Significance of a Political Distinction (1996). For a discussion of the concept of political ideology see Michael Freeden, Ideologies and Political Theory: A Conceptual Approach (1996).

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powerful politically if the dominant parties tend to be fiscally conservative and portray the central state as wasteful. This particular configuration of structural economic differentiation and ideological divergence underpins Flemish nationalism’s claims for the decentralization of social provisions.

Institutional factors The strategic importance of social policy for sub-state nationalism is also strongly conditioned by formal political institutions. At its most basic level, the greater the political autonomy of a region where there is a nationalist movement and the longer it has held this autonomy, the more likely it is that social policy will act as a significant force in identity and cohesion building. In other words, institutionally autonomous regions, because they already control significant social programmes, are likely to have inhabitants who feel a clear sense of community solidarity or, in other words, national ties. Of course, extensive power over social policy by a region with nationalist politics does not mean the absence of claims for further decentralization. On the contrary, these regions, just like those that lack substantial political autonomy, may seek increased or even full control over social policy. The key to explaining the role of social policy in the politics of multinational states is often the political dynamic of the relationship between regional and central governments. In federal or autonomous arrangements where these relationships are competitive owing to, for example, a lack of interlocking mechanisms such as the formal representation of regions in central institutions, social policy is likely to become part of, and indeed central to, conflicts between levels of government. This dynamic is readily observable in Canada with Québécois nationalism, and to a somewhat lesser degree, in Spain with Catalan and Basque nationalism. In types of federalism such as Belgium’s, where the units tend to be pitted against one another, it is the contentious nature of inter-regional relationships that can draw social policy issues into nationalist politics, and in some cases, influence social policy development at both the state and the sub-state levels. The vigour and resilience of social policy-oriented nationalist claims are also influenced by the institutional configuration of the regions themselves. In regions with strong executives, political parties autonomous from state-level ones, and frequent majority governments (e.g. Quebec), these claims are likely to be more forcefully and consistently articulated than in regions where legislatures have more autonomy, where parties are integrated within the (state) 34


national party system, and where coalition or minority governments are the rule (e.g. Scotland). The importance of these three mediating factors varies from case to case. This is why, in each empirical chapter, we will only discuss at length those factors that have strongly impacted the political configuration of the nationalism–social policy nexus in the country under study.

Globalization In the strict sense of the term, globalization is not one of the mediating factors featured in our comparative analysis. The position of our three countries in the global economy is rather similar (i.e. these advanced, industrial countries are well integrated to that economy), and there is no evidence that factors associated with globalization such as global finance and continental integration can explain key differences between our cases. Yet globalization constitutes the background for the politics of social policy retrenchment and restructuring, and before moving to the methodological considerations, it is appropriate to formulate a few remarks about globalization. Although it has not led to a strong decline of the modern state, globalization is a multiprocess phenomenon 48 that serves to de-centre the state. This de-centring or, as some have put it, the ‘hollowing out’ of the state 49 has generally served to bolster the connection between substate nationalism and social policy. Two processes of globalization have been particularly significant in this regard. 50 The first is the liberalization of trade both at the global, and particularly for Western Europe and North America, at the continental level. Free trade has meant new patterns of economic competition that led many central governments to disengage from economic regulation (including territorial redistribution) and to pursue deficit and debt reduction strategies. 51 Consequently, 48

Jan Aart Scholte, Globalization: A Critical Introduction (2001). Vincent Della Sala, ‘Hollowing Out and Hardening the Italian State: European Integration and the Italian Economy,’ West European Politics 20 (1997): 14–33. 50 Others, such as the development of communication technologies, can also be said to weigh on sub-state nationalism because they create opportunities for global and transnational linkages, but since their impact on the connection between nationalism and social policy specifically is less important, we will not discuss them at great length. 51 This remark should not lead the reader to believe in a strong convergence between models of economic regulation, which may remain significant: Peter A. Hall and David Soskice (eds.), Varieties of Capitalism: The Institutional Foundations of Comparative Advantage (2001). 49

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regional governments have frequently been made to shoulder additional, particularly social, responsibilities. In other words, economic globalization tends to favour the decentralization of social policy, and therefore nation-building, at the sub-state level. Of course, the process of trade liberalization should not be considered overwhelming, as it does not necessarily weaken state power and autonomy. For example, fiscal pressures felt by states to be more competitive in the global economy are irregular and intermittent; this means that periods of budget surpluses resulting from higher than expected economic growth will give central states more latitude to implement new social programmes. In other words, economic globalization does not systematically prevent states from having comprehensive social programmes that can promote integration in multinational societies; it simply makes this approach more contingent and problematic. 52 Furthermore, references to globalization can take part in the framing of specific policy alternatives at both the state and the substate level. Far from being a purely economic factor, globalization is also an idea central to contemporary debates over the future of social policy. Second, in Western Europe, political integration through the European Union adds an additional twist to the connection between nationalism and social policy. 53 At the broadest level, political agreements such as the Growth and Stability Pact tended to encourage the elimination of deficits. From this perspective, the European Union put strong pressure on its members to reform their social policy systems. 54 This has particularly important consequences for multinational states where centralized social provisions serve a particularly crucial nation-building function. The decentring of the state via the European Union has also occurred through reinforcement of the regions’ institutional capacity. From a discursive perspective, the re-launching of the integration process in the mid-1980s triggered a new political perspective that presented Europe as a system of multi-level governance where regional governments were important. 55 52 Evelyne Huber and John D. Stephens, Development and Crisis of the Welfare State: Parties and Policies in Global Markets (2001); Duane Swank, Global Capital, Political Institutions, and Policy Change in Developed Welfare States (2002). For an alternative account grounded in the idea of a strong neo-liberal convergence of national social policy systems, see Neil Gilbert, Transformation of the Welfare State: The Silent Surrender of Public Responsibility (2002). 53 For a broad, theoretically informed discussion of the relationship between social policy and European integration see Fererra, The Boundaries of Welfare. One of the chapters explores the increasingly complex interaction between state, sub-state, and suprastate institutions in European social policy. 54 Pierre Pestieau, The Welfare State in the European Union: Economic and Social Perspectives (2006). 55 Gary Marks, Liesbet Hooghe, and Kermit Blank, ‘European Integration from the 1980s: State-Centric v. Multi-level Governance,’ Journal of Common Market Studies 34 (1996): 341–78.

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Regional governments therefore enjoy a favourable environment to claim powers over social policy, particularly when ideas of democracy and subsidiarity are so central to EU discourse. More concretely, EU institutions sought, at least in the 1990s, to develop the political roles of regions as a way to counter the prominence of states. 56 For example, some states (e.g. Ireland, Greece) created regional governments, while the Committee of Regions (CoR), although far from powerful, has offered these governments a political forum within the European Union. This dynamic of a symbiotic relationship between supranational and regional levels of government has presented regions with opportunities to expand their political sphere, 57 although the post-enlargement EU has paid little attention to regions. 58 Of course, the bigger picture is that there is no European welfare state, and that most social policy, at least in major fields like health care and old-age pensions, is unlikely to be ‘Europeanized’ any time soon. As such, despite the multiple pressures applied on West European states, they still retain a strong social policy dimension representing a powerful instrument for resisting nationalist claims. Although EU policies and guidelines can affect social policy development, state and sub-state actors are still the most crucial players in social policy-making. 59 Our comparative analysis will thus focus primarily on these actors and make few references to globalization and continental integration.

Methodological Issues The present study is a comparative analysis of three cases: Canada/Quebec, United Kingdom/Scotland, and Belgium/Flanders. The rationale for this selection is quite straightforward: Canada, the United Kingdom, and Belgium are, along with Spain, the only Western countries with extensive social policy systems and strong nationalist movements. We chose to limit ourselves to only three of the four countries in order to offer a more indepth discussion of each. Canada, the United Kingdom, and Belgium were each preferred to Spain for a practical reason: these countries feature only one strong nationalist movement, whereas Spain presents two, Catalan 56 John Loughlin, “‘Europe of the Regions” and the Federalization of Europe,’ Publius: The Journal of Federalism 26 (1996): 141–62. 57 For a discussion of the Italian case see Fererra, The Boundaries of Welfare: 192–202. 58 For example, the failed EU Constitution contained no significant reference to, or empowerment of, regions. 59 Daniel Béland, States of Global Insecurity: Policy, Politics, and Society (2007).

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and Basque. 60 In this context, including Spain with its two other cases would have complicated our research design. 61 At the broadest level, this research seeks to highlight that all three multinational countries studied feature a dynamic connection between nationalism and social policy. It also, however, seeks to explain the different patterns and configurations of the sub-state nationalism–social policy nexus. For this purpose, we selected ‘comparable cases’, that is, liberaldemocratic states with advanced industrial economies. This is helpful in so far as it provides a common structural context that allows us to fully appreciate the impact of political, institutional, economic, ideological, and cultural differences on the intersection between nationalism and social policy. For example, Quebec has enjoyed political autonomy longer than Flanders and Scotland, and all three regional governments operate within different decentralized institutions and regional political systems. In terms of regional inequalities, Scotland is less prosperous than southern England while, in Belgium, Flanders is significantly wealthier than Wallonia, which translates to much lower unemployment rates. On the ideological spectrum, Scottish and Québécois nationalism fall further left than does Flemish nationalism. Nationalism in Quebec and Flanders is strongly driven by language and must contend with the presence of linguistic minorities, while in more culturally homogeneous Scotland, the emphasis is on references to the distinctiveness of Scottish history and civil society. Our methodological approach is inspired by process tracing, or in the words of Peter Hall, systematic process analysis. 62 This study focuses on two processes: first, social policy development and restructuring, and second, sub-state nationalism and state nationalism, that is, efforts at nation-building from the central state. Using a comparative historical analysis, we trace the evolution of these processes for the purpose of assessing when and how they intersect. We also explain the nature, structure, and consequences of these connections as they are influenced by concurrent institutional, economic, ideological, and cultural processes. Agency in our framework is embodied by the broad concept of ‘nationalist movement’. At the core of these movements are nationalist political 60 In the case of the United Kingdom, Welsh nationalism is much weaker than Scottish nationalism. 61 Yet there is no doubt that Spain is also a good example of analysing the connection between welfare politics and sub-state nationalism. See, for example, Luis Moreno, The Federalization of Spain (2001). 62 Peter A. Hall, ‘Aligning Ontology and Methodology in Comparative Politics’ (2003), 391–95.

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parties. In the Quebec case, this means primarily the secessionist Parti québécois (PQ), although in some instances we focus on the two other provincial parties that can also be considered nationalist in the broadest sense. The discussion on the PQ can easily extend to the Bloc québécois (BQ), its federal level counterpart. For Flanders/Belgium, we consider that nationalism in the party system is omnipresent because of the linguistic split of the parties. On some occasions, we focus on a particular party, for example, the Vlaams Blok/Vlaams Belang. In Scotland, the clearest nationalist party is the Scottish National Party (SNP), although this understanding needs to be widened to include other parties in certain contexts, for example, the drive towards home rule. Above and beyond parties, nationalist agency typically rests with the sub-state governments (Quebec and Flemish governments and the Scottish Executive). We also extend it to civil society organizations whose specific nature depends on the case. For example, trade unions in Quebec are central to the nationalist movement, while the most influential Flemish business association, is strongly nationalist. The epistemological consequence of this mode of analysis is to favour ‘middle-range’ or grounded generalization. Beyond the six above claims, we are therefore not looking to put forward a general theory about social policy development in multinational states. In our empirical analysis, we provide ground to these claims, but we also explore the nuances in the forms taken by the nationalism/social policy connection across our cases. Yet, as suggested above, this research will also draw out some general tendencies in the way identity formation, territorial mobilization, and social policy interact. In this context, our study offers some insight into the study of regionalism, state nationalism, and even continental integration. Our investigation focuses on the six decades following the end of the Second World War because it represented a turning point in the development of modern social policy in the three countries under study. Of course, both state and sub-state nationalism existed before then, but explaining their development is not the goal of this study. This being said, we will bring their genesis into our discussion, as it obviously conditions the present forms of nationalist politics, and, therefore, the way nationalism has intersected with social policy over the last six decades. Empirically, this study is informed by a combination of primary and secondary sources. The primary sources consist of party programmes, government documents, and think-tank reports, as well as thirty in-depth, semi-directive interviews conducted with party officials, civil servants, 39


and civil society actors such as trade-union and business leaders. With the exception of Nicola McEwen’s work and one article on Belgium by Johanne Poirier and Steven Vansteenkiste, the secondary literature dealing explicitly with the link between nationalism and social policy is rather thin. 63 Yet we can, for our three cases, draw on substantial scholarly literatures that focus either on nationalism or on social policy; we then establish analytical connections between these literatures.

Conclusion This book explores the connections between nationalism—primarily in its sub-state form—and social policy through two distinct yet related perspectives. On the one hand, it examines how social programmes play a central role in national identity building and territorial mobilization. On the other hand, it studies how nationalist movements can affect social policy-making through agenda setting and framing processes as well as through the territorial structuring of policy reform and implementation. From both these perspectives, the principal objective of this book is to uncover the concrete sets of circumstances favouring this connection between nationalism and social policy, as well as the nature and dynamic of the causal relationships involved. The following chapters develop the cases of Canada, Belgium, and the United Kingdom to confront six claims with the empirical reality of sub-state nationalism and the evolution of social policy. 63 See note 1. For a broader discussion of the territorial politics of social policy that takes nationalism into account see Nicola McEwen and Luis Moreno (eds), The Territorial Politics of Welfare (2005).

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2 Canada: Nationalism, Federalism, and Social Policy

Few countries exhibit as strong and explicit a relationship between nationalism and social policy as Canada. Even more than in the United Kingdom, social policy represents a focus of identity formation and nationalist mobilization at both the state and sub-state levels. From the 1940s on, the federal government developed a modern nation-building project wherein social policy was a crucial element. In Quebec, the Quiet Revolution of the 1960s witnessed a transformation of sub-state nationalism towards a greater reliance on social policy as a mechanism of nation-building as well as nationalist mobilization against the federal government, which was engaged in its own push for social policy expansion. This struggle for control of social policy through competitive nation-building both shaped and mirrored the structures of Canadian federalism. The importance of social policy in identity-building and nationalist mobilization in Quebec has waxed and waned, even after the Quiet Revolution, primarily because linguistic and cultural considerations remain central to nationalism in the province. The PQ’s 2007 musings about having a ‘Quebec citizenship’ hinge on a fluency in French, and the debate over the desirable range of ‘reasonable accommodations’ for immigrants that unfolded in 2007 1 show how language and cultural issues 1 First used as a strictly legal concept related to the respect of religious freedom, the term ‘reasonable accommodations’ moved to the centre of Quebec’s policy agenda in early 2007, after the city council of the small town Hérouxville enacted a colourful ‘code of conduct’ banning the stoning of women, among other things. A highly publicized case of ‘reasonable accommodation’ debated in Quebec is the decision of an Outremont YMCA to frost its windows in order to accommodate the Hasidic community living in the area. With the help of Mario Dumont’s populist Action Démocratique du Québec (ADQ), the issue of reasonable accommodations has become so prominent that most Quebec’s politicians and public intellectuals felt obliged to take a stance on the issue. In February 2007, facing pressure

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sometimes relegate other identity and mobilization dimensions to the background. Chapter 2 confronts the claims put forward in Chapter 1 with empirical evidence from Canada. The chapter first examines how the relationship between nation-building and social policy emerged in Canadian society during and immediately following the Second World War. We then demonstrate how the transformation of Québécois nationalism during the 1960s generated a positive connection between sub-state nationalism and progressive social policy and how this new connection affected the enactment and implementation of social policy in Canada. Next, we explore the contemporary links between nationalist mobilization in Quebec and the issue of social policy reform in the context of retrenchment and, more recently, federal budget surpluses. Finally, we analyse the impact of the Québécois nationalism–social policy nexus on the structures of Canadian federalism. The chapter is structured as follows. After a brief discussion of Canada’s institutional foundations and the features of French-Canadian nationalism, we examine the emergence of the modern Canadian federal welfare state during the 1940s and 1950s. This section emphasizes the negative reaction of French-Canadian nationalism towards federal social programmes such as family allowances, given that they were believed to underpin the federal nation-building project. The next segment explores the decentralist impact on social policy arrangements of the new form of sub-state nationalism crystallizing during the 1960s, and the making of a positive connection between nationalism and social policy in Quebec with the rise of a social-democratic and secessionist party, the Parti québécois (PQ). We then explain that, after a period (in the 1980s and early 1990s) when nationalism in Quebec was driven by constitutional politics, the connection with social policy reappeared more explicitly than ever after the 1995 referendum. Thereafter, processes of identity-building and nationalist mobilization have been permeated by references to, and debates about, social policy reform, although the 2007 Quebec election might have signalled the beginning of a new transformation in the political dynamic of nationalism in the province. Overall, we argue that the politics of retrenchment as well as the more recent phase of budget surpluses and ‘reinvestment’ exacerbated, each in their own way, the clash between Québécois and Canadian nationalisms. Finally, we illustrate how from the ADQ, Quebec Premier Jean Charest launched the ‘Consultation Commission on Accommodation Practices Related to Cultural Differences’, better known as the Bouchard– Taylor Commission.

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Canada: Nationalism, Federalism, and Social Policy

nationalist mobilization in Quebec promoted the introduction of territorial asymmetry into social policy arrangements in Canada while simultaneously setting the agenda for policy innovations throughout the country.

Nationalism and the Foundations of Canadian Federalism Cultural and linguistic diversity have been a central feature of the nation of Canada since well before its creation in 1867. The establishment of a French settlement on the shores of the St. Lawrence River, marked by the founding of Quebec City in 1608, introduced a European presence in North America and initiated a period of contact with Aboriginal populations. The defeat of the French armies at the hands of the British in 1759 paved the way for additional diversity, as it triggered migrations not only from Great Britain but also from the United States as Loyalists fled in the context of the 1776 US Revolution. British rule in North America did not readily involve the assimilation of the Catholic Francophone Canadiens. The Quebec Act of 1774 maintained the seigneurial regime and the civil law, and allowed French-Canadian elites to take part in the colony’s administration without renouncing their Catholic faith. In 1791, the Constitutional Act divided the colony into two provinces with representative assemblies: Upper Canada, corresponding to the territories around Lake Ontario where most of the Loyalists had settled, and Lower Canada where the Canadiens were the majority. After an uprising for responsible government in 1837–8 culminated in anti-British rebellions, 2 Lord Durham, who was sent to investigate the causes of the unrest, saw the problem as a conflict of ‘races’ 3 and suggested giving Lower Canada the ‘national character’ of the British Empire. 4 That advice translated into the 1840 Act of Union creating a single representative assembly for the colony. Despite the assimilationist objective behind the union of the two Canadas, the new political system effectively functioned in a dualist fashion with its two prime ministers and mutual group vetoes. There is some controversy over when it becomes accurate to characterize politics in French Canada as nationalism and what represented 2 On the weakness of the ‘national question’ perspective for understanding politics in Lower Canada in the 1830s, see Gérald Bernier, ‘The Rebellions of 1837–1838 in Lower Canada: A Theoretical Framework,’ Canadian Review of Studies in Nationalism 18 (1991): 131–43. 3 Denis Monière, Le développement des idéologies au Québec des origines à nos jours (1977), 149–54. 4 Le rapport Durham (1969), 118.

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the impulse for the rise of this movement. 5 French-Canadians, as the Canadiens came to be called, looked to secure guarantees for the protection of their religion, language, and way of life as soon as they came under British rule, but for the most part, accepted this political authority. In the context of the late eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the notion of a distinct status and political autonomy was full of practical implications, as French-Canadian society was quite different from the crystallizing English-Canadian society. French-Canada was a society of the Ancien Régime where religion acted not only as a primary marker of group identity but also as conditioned social structures. The centrality of religion in French Canada may have been overstated at times, 6 but wide adherence to a particularly strict Catholic doctrine produced a mainly agrarian society with rigid internal and external boundaries. 7 These social and ideological considerations partly explain the nature of the relationship between nationalism and social policy in Quebec until the 1960s. French-Canadian nationalism was a crucial factor when the choice of a federal system was made at the country’s founding in 1867. The project of political union that surfaced in the 1860s as a result of economic and military imperatives was a double-edged sword for FrenchCanadian political and religious elites. On the one hand, the creation of an independent country represented the end of British colonial rule. On the other hand, it could mean a permanent minority status for French-Canadians. For this reason, French-Canadian leaders promoted federalism and opposed the model of a unitary state, seen as stronger and more resilient by most English-Canadian politicians. A federation ensured French-Canadians that they would be a majority in ‘their’ province, and that they could use political and legal tools to regulate their society. Despite the guarantees of political autonomy offered by the federal model, French-Canadian politicians did not overwhelmingly support participation in the new state for fear of Anglo-Protestant domination. The dynamics of the nationalism–social policy nexus in Canada cannot be interpreted effectively without understanding how the country’s federal 5 For an instrumentalist position, see Fernand Ouellet, ‘Le nationalisme canadien-français: De ses origines à l’insurrection de 1837,’ Canadian Historical Review 45 (1964): 277–92. 6 Mason Wade spoke of a ‘theocracy’, while Jean-Pierre Wallot suggested that the idea of a ‘priest-ridden country’ is inaccurate before the nineteenth century. See, respectively, The French-Canadian Outlook (1946), 23; and Un Québec qui bougeait. Trame socio-politique du Québec au tournant du XIXe siècle (1973), 183. 7 This doctrine was ultramontanism. See Jacques Monet, ‘French-Canadian Nationalism and the Challenge of Ultramontanism,’ Canadian Historical Association Historical Papers (1966): 41–55.

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structures stemmed largely from the French-Canadian preoccupation with religious, linguistic, and cultural protection, 8 as much of it has been played out through intergovernmental relations. In addition, the dominant French-Canadian interpretation of the birth of federalism in Canada as a pact between two ‘founding peoples’ 9 permeates contemporary nationalist claims regarding the territorial organization of social policy. Despite the pressures of French-Canadians for extensive political autonomy, Canada was created as a relatively centralized federation. Powers over the most important matters of late nineteenth-century public policy were attributed to the federal government: banking, currency, national defence, transportation, and trade and commerce. 10 The federal government was also given the power ‘to make laws for the peace, order and good government of Canada’, except for domains explicitly under provincial jurisdiction. Provinces oversaw such matters as civil and property rights, municipal institutions, and local works. 11 This constitutional arrangement meant that provinces would have authority regarding education, health care, and social assistance. At the time, it was assumed that municipalities and private institutions like the Catholic Church in Quebec would play a central role in these policy areas. From this angle, in 1867, the constitutional allocation of powers reflected liberal assumptions about the key involvement of local and private actors in social policy. 12 This situation would change during the twentieth century, as the role of the state in social policy would increase dramatically—something that the 1867 founders could not have anticipated.

Construction of the Federal Welfare State and French-Canadian Nationalism The nature of the intersection between nationalism and social policy in Quebec during the first half of the twentieth century was the product 8 Political leaders in New Brunswick and Nova Scotia also favoured federalism owing to their smaller populations. 9 Arthur I. Silver, The French-Canadian Idea of Confederation (1997). 10 Other features of the 1867 British North America Act suggest an intention to create a centralized federation. For example, the power of ‘reservation’ allowed the federal government to review provincial legislation, while the power of ‘disallowance’ simply gave it the right to void such legislation within one year of adoption. See Garth Stevenson, ‘Federalism and Intergovernmental Relations,’ (2004), 86–7. 11 Section 91, Constitution Act, 1867. In 1867, most powers were assigned to one level of government, but a few (immigration and agriculture) were created as concurrent. 12 Barbara Cameron, ‘Social Reproduction and Canadian Federalism’ (2006): 45–74.

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of political continuity (the persistence of a conservative brand of French-Canadian nationalism) and institutional change (the evolution of Canadian federalism). French-Canadian nationalism retained traditional religious ideological underpinnings until the 1960s. The Catholic Church was its central institution, and faith featured prominently in the definition of the nation: French-Canadians were not only Francophones, but also Catholics. 13 From this perspective, language was the protector of a moral and spiritual community. Clerics and conservative politicians supported an agrarian economy and promoted a traditional way of life against individualism, urbanization, and secularism. This characterization of French-Canadian nationalism does not mean that the political realm in Quebec was devoid of any liberal component in the first half of the twentieth century; nor does it suggest that this period was a ‘dark age’. Certainly, the picture painted by the elites articulating the most conservative version of FrenchCanadian nationalism did not correspond to mid- or even early twentiethcentury Quebec society, which had become increasingly urbanized and industrialized. 14 Despite this social change, there was no sharp break with the traditional programme of French-Canadian nationalism in the early twentieth century because its leadership was content with the political autonomy provided by the Canadian federation. 15 This was especially true because the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries witnessed a movement of provincial affirmation, spearheaded by Ontario Premier Oliver Mowat, that served to decentralize Canadian federalism. In this context, and considering that the French-Canadian nation was conceptualized as including Catholic Francophone communities that had settled outside the province of Quebec, there were no substantial claims for independence coming from French-Canadian nationalism. The power of the Catholic Church in Quebec society stemmed in part from the fact that it provided education, health care, and social assistance to citizens. Rooted in anti-statism and a conservative reading of the Catholic Church’s social gospel, the approach to social policy dominant at the time emphasized a moralistic vision of charity and self-reliance that seemed incompatible with the development of modern social insurance 13 The best-known advocate of the position that Catholicism and the Church were at the heart of French-Canadian solidarity was Abbé Lionel Groulx. See, for example, Chez nos ancêtres (1920), 84–5. 14 A good example of this conservative discourse is the work of Lionel Groulx: Frédéric Boily, La pensée nationaliste de Lionel Groulx (2003). 15 Jeffrey Cormier and Philippe Couton, ‘The Limits of Quebec Nationalism, 1918–39. An Interwar Paradox,’ Nationalism & Ethnic Politics 4 (1998): 47–74.

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programmes. Opposing secular labour unions, the Church defended a traditional vision of the French-Canadian nation according to which the organization of social policy would reflect the crucial role of Catholicism in Quebec as well as traditional family values depicted as the foundation of the French-Canadian nation. From this perspective, there existed a very tangible connection between French-Canadian nationalism and early social policy. Through its role in the fields of education and social policy, the Church was able to sustain and reproduce a conception of the French-Canadian nation based on its own traditional values and ideas. Opposing statism, the Catholic Church promoted a vision of society that militated against the advent of modern state-centred social policies in the province of Quebec. During the first decades of the twentieth century, the provincial government did little to directly challenge the Church’s control over the fields of education and social services. According to Dominique Marshall, this era witnessed a convergence between the economic liberalism of the political elite, which supported a laissez-faire approach, and the anti-statism of the Church, which fought to preserve its position in Quebec society despite trends like urbanization that challenged the traditional power of the clergy. 16 In the name of provincial autonomy and traditional values, the Church and the conservative political elite also opposed the development of federal social policies, which became a significant political issue during the Great Depression and the Second World War. The construction and expansion of the Canadian federal welfare state in the 1940s and 1950s presented a challenge to the conceptualization of the French-Canadian nation as a traditional community. Until the Second World War, the federal government played a limited role in Canada’s then small public social policy system. One significant exception is the 1927 Old Age Pensions Act, which created a 20-dollar monthly benefit for poor elderly citizens aged 70 and older. 17 This Old Age Pension was a shared responsibility programme, according to which the provinces would finance 50 per cent of the benefits. After 1931, to encourage poorer provinces to participate in the programme, the federal contribution was increased to cover 75 per cent of the costs. At first, Quebec officials refused to implement the programme because they believed it infringed on provincial jurisdiction while weakening the traditional role of the 16 Dominique Marshall, ‘Nationalisme et politiques sociales au Québec depuis 1867: Un siècle de rendez-vous manqués entre l’État, l’Église et les familles,’ British Journal of Canadian Studies 9 (1994): 301–47. 17 The remainder of this paragraph draws extensively on Keith Banting, ‘Canada: NationalBuilding in a Federal Welfare State’ (2005): 89–137.

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Catholic Church as the main provider of social benefits in the province. In 1936, however, the popularity of the programme among the Quebec electorate convinced the provincial government to implement it. 18 In Canada, the first attempt to create comprehensive federal social policies emerged during the Great Depression. In 1935, Prime Minister Richard Bennett’s Conservative government enacted the Unemployment and Social Insurance Act, a piece of legislation that would have created a federal unemployment insurance scheme in the midst of the Great Depression. Although it has been depicted as a Canadian equivalent to the Social Security Act adopted the same year in the United States, this legislation was more modest than its US counterpart, which contained provisions about old-age insurance and family assistance absent from the Employment and Social Insurance Act. 19 Two years after the enactment of this centralizing legislation, the Supreme Court of Canada and the British Privy Council struck it down, arguing that, according to the British North America Act, only the provinces could implement this type of measure. Considering such an inhospitable institutional environment, a constitutional amendment was necessary to pass new unemployment insurance legislation. Facing pressure from the new Liberal Prime Minister William Mackenzie King, all provinces finally supported this amendment, including Quebec. Quebec’s Union Nationale party opposed the amendment, but its electoral defeat in 1939 allowed the province to support it as the newly elected liberal government embraced a more conciliatory attitude towards Ottawa, which the beginning of the Second World War reinforced. In 1940, Canada’s House of Commons finally enacted new federal unemployment insurance legislation, which survived judicial review because of the previously adopted constitutional amendment. As the first federal social insurance programme ever adopted in Canada, unemployment insurance soon became a symbol of centralization that extended beyond this particular policy area. Moreover, like the United Kingdom and as opposed to the situation prevalent in Belgium, Canada’s federal unemployment insurance scheme and the other social programmes adopted in the post-war era were not fragmented according to the occupational logic so central to the Bismarckian model. Because it is not divided according to this occupational logic, Canada’s 18 Ibid. On this issue see also Bernard L. Vigod, ‘The Quebec Government and Social Legislation during the 1930s: A Study in Political Self-Destruction,’ Journal of Canadian Studies/Revue d’études canadiennes 14 (1979): 59–69. 19 Daniel Béland, Social Security: History and Politics from the New Deal to the Privatization Debate (2005).

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state-centred model represent a potentially greater source of nationbuilding than the fragmented social insurance systems developed in Belgium and in other Bismarckian countries. In the former context, state-centred social policies are more directly related to modern statebuilding and the idea of social citizenship. As discussed later in the book, however, this does not mean that, under specific political circumstances, fragmented social insurance schemes cannot become powerful national symbols in Bismarckian countries such as Belgium, France, and Germany. As in the United Kingdom, the Second World War favoured the emergence of a bolder and more centralizing social policy agenda in Canada. After the publication of the British Beveridge report in 1942 (see Chapter 3), the federal government put forward ambitious post-war reform proposals embedded in the relationship between Keynesianism, social policy expansion, and the construction of a stronger Canadian identity. The Canadian equivalent to the Beveridge report, the 1943 Marsh report promoted a centralist, Keynesian creed that would later dominate the Canadian post-war political economy. Yet, extending far beyond the issue of social insurance, the Marsh report actually proved more ambitious and comprehensive than its British counterpart, 20 and it paved the way for the development of the modern federal welfare state. In 1944, Canada adopted the Family Allowance Act. As its name suggests, this initiative instituted a federal family allowance programme that would offer benefits to ‘all children up to the age of sixteen, provided they were attending school or unable to do so on medical grounds, on a graduated scale depending upon the ages and numbers of children’. 21 At least as much as the unemployment insurance programme formulated four years earlier, universal family allowances represented a step towards social policy centralization, another direct intervention of the federal government in the everyday life of Canadian families. 22 Partly because families needed to apply in order to receive benefits, no constitutional amendment or formal bargaining with the provinces was necessary to implement it. Federal spending power made non-contributory federal allowances possible from a constitutional standpoint. Furthermore, this financing 20

Leonard Marsh, Report on Social Security for Canada (1943). Dennis T. Guest, The Emergence of Social Security in Canada (1980), 130. For a comparative perspective on the development of Canadian social policy, see Gregg M. Olsen, The Politics of the Welfare State: Canada, Sweden, and the United States (2002). 22 The federal government’s decision to award family allowances on a scale decreasing in amount after the fourth child was perceived as a response to the argument ‘that family allowances would increase the birth-rate among French-Canadian Catholics and that the plan was a political manoeuvre to gain liberal support in Quebec,’ Guest, The Emergence of Social Security, 129. 21

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mechanism and the universalist nature of the benefits could reinforce the link between federal social policy and the construction of Canadian citizenship. 23 Predictably, centralizing federal programmes such as unemployment insurance and family allowances came under attack in Quebec. In addition to the usual arguments in favour of provincial autonomy, FrenchCanadian politicians charged that large families were unfairly penalized under this new federal legislation. The fact that the federal House of Commons enacted this new social legislation without consulting the provinces triggered a significant oppositional movement in Quebec. Elected in August 1944, the new Union Nationale government launched a campaign against federal family allowances and put forth its own family allowance bill. In the name of provincial autonomy and existing constitutional jurisdictions, this new legislation stated ‘that it is preferable to establish a family allowance system with the co-operation of federal authorities and without violating provincial constitutional rights’. 24 A mere political statement regarding provincial autonomy, this vague legislation constituted an ‘empty shell’ in terms of genuine social benefits. Concretely, the province’s population benefited from this new federal programme that became immensely popular in Quebec, as it did throughout the country. Federal cheques made Quebeckers feel closer to a previously remote federal government. From this perspective, federal family allowances reinforced the legitimacy of the federal government in Quebec. Perhaps because family allowances became so popular among Francophones, the Union Nationale’s campaign produced few results before fading away. 25 It is only in 1967 that the Quebec government would create a comprehensive family allowance programme. Instead of replacing the existing federal allowances, the new provincial allowances would develop alongside them. Finally, in 1973, a federal legislation would allow the Quebec government to set the levels of federal family allowance benefits distributed in the province. Another significant aspect of the 1940s debate over federalism and policy centralization in Canada is the 1945 Dominion-Provincial Conference on Reconstruction. During this key conference, the federal government pushed for the maintenance of the fiscal centralization that had taken place during the Second World War. This centralization meant that, in the name of the war effort, the federal government took control over 23 24 25

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Marshall, ‘Nationalisme et politiques sociales au Québec depuis 1867.’ Statuts du Québec, 1945, chapter 6, preamble. Marshall, ‘Nationalisme et politiques sociales au Québec depuis 1867.’


corporate and income taxes as well as succession duties. From the perspective of the federal government, the preservation of fiscal centralization would favour the creation of new social programmes. ‘With this added revenue, the federal government pledged to offer a social security package that included unemployment insurance, disability allowances, pensions, and a joint federal-provincial health insurance system.’ 26 Largely due to the opposition of Ontario and Quebec, however, no federal–provincial agreement was reached at the Conference on Reconstruction. Yet, as Keith Banting argues, the 1945 federal proposals ‘represented a coherent agenda that the federal government was to pursue on an incremental basis over the next two decades’. 27 During and after the Conference on Reconstruction, Quebec Premier Maurice Duplessis fought this centralizing agenda in the name of ‘provincial autonomy’. This is why Quebec opted-out of the post-war tax rental agreements between Ottawa and the provinces before adopting a provincial income tax in 1954. In sum, the connection between nationalism and social policy developed in the early days of modern social policy in Canada. In Quebec, the conservative ideology of French-Canadian nationalism involved opposition to state-run social programmes that could alter existing economic, social, and even political relations. From this perspective, the FrenchCanadian identity was defined against the statist model underpinning modern social policy. The emerging federal welfare state was also threatening the Church’s enduring social and economic power in Quebec, sustained in part by its central role of delivering social services. 28 As a result of the perceived clash between French-Canadian society and the emerging federal welfare state, Quebec’s conservative governments frequently opposed new federal social programmes. Yet opposition from Union Nationale governments (1944–59) did not prevent the federal government from further increasing its role in the social policy domain. A central aspect of the Canadian nation-building project, social policy remained high on the federal government’s agenda for the remainder of the 1940s and during the 1950s. In 1951, after much debate between Premier Duplessis and federal officials, the House of Commons enacted the Old Age Security Act. As was the case with the adoption of unemployment insurance, constitutional requirements meant that the federal government had to accommodate Quebec’s request 26 P. E. Bryden, ‘Beyond the Green Book: The Ontario Approach to Intergovernmental Relations, 1945–1955’ (2004): 133–62. 27 Banting, ‘Canada: National-Building in a Federal Welfare State,’ 104. 28 Yves Vaillancourt, L’Évolution des politiques sociales au Québec, 1940–1960 (1988).

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regarding the recognition of enduring provincial autonomy in the field of old-age pensions. By May 1951, the federal government and the provinces agreed to the following wording: It is hereby declared that the Parliament of Canada may from time to time make laws in relation to old-age pensions in Canada, but no law made by the Parliament of Canada in relation to old-age pensions shall affect the operation of any law, present or future, of a provincial legislature in relation to old-age pensions. 29

This text represented a constitutional victory for Quebec, as it made possible initiatives such as the Quebec Pension Plan enacted more than a decade later (see below). Partially financed through the general revenues of the state, the Old Age Security Act eliminated the means test first adopted in 1927 as part of the Old Age Pensions Act. As a consequence, the 1951 legislation created a basic federal public pension benefit of 40 dollars per month for everyone aged 70 and over with 20 years of residence. Like federal family allowances, the Old Age Security programme (OAS) constituted a ‘demogrant’ covering all Canadians belonging to a certain age group. Enacted the same year as the Old Age Security Act, the Old Age Assistance Act (OAA) created a means-tested benefit for those aged 65–69. The measure remained in place until 1970, when the age of eligibility for the flat pension (OAS) was reduced to 65. Although these two programmes offered modest benefits, their implementation represented a significant step in the construction of a federal welfare state embedded in the idea of Canadian social citizenship. 30 Like family allowances, they became popular in all provinces, including Quebec. An example of looming policy centralization, the implementation of OAS and OAA increased the direct connection between the federal government and citizens from all regions of Canada. In the post-war era, policy innovation also took place at the provincial level, which in turn increased pressure for federal-policy expansion. This was especially true in the field of health care reform, where provincial governments from western Canada moved the issue of hospitalization insurance onto the national policy agenda. In Saskatchewan, successive social democratic Co-operative Commonwealth Federation (CCF) governments in power between 1944 and 1961 enacted major social reforms. Among these reforms, the implementation in 1947 of the first public 29 Human Resources and Development Canada, The History of Canada’s Public Pensions (2002). 30 Janine Brodie, ‘Citizenship and Solidarity: Reflections on the Canadian Way,’ Citizenship Studies 6 (2002): 377–94.

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hospitalization insurance plan in Canada was particularly crucial. In 1949 and 1950, British Columbia and Alberta adopted their own hospitalization insurance programmes. Seeking greater fiscal resources, provinces like Alberta, British Columbia, and Saskatchewan requested major federal participation in the field of health care financing. In 1957, as a response to such provincial demands, the federal House of Commons adopted the Hospital Insurance and Diagnostic Services Act. This significant landmark in federal–provincial relations established a financial structure that facilitated the development of a countrywide, yet decentralized, hospital insurance system. Far from creating a federal insurance scheme, the 1957 act required the federal government to share the costs of provincial hospital insurance programmes. 31 Although Canadian decision-makers may not have intended health policy to be a tool of nation-building, it would increasingly serve this purpose during the following decades. Somewhat paradoxically, the decentralized, provincially operated health care system became a powerful mechanism in the political construction of modern Canadian identity. 32 Indeed, since the 1960s, Canada’s publicly funded health care system has gradually become a key element in expressing the distinctiveness of the country vis-à-vis the United States. The enactment in 1984 of the Canada Health Act further raised the profile of health care as a symbol of Canadian identity and a major federal issue. This legislation formulated broad criteria and conditions that the ten provinces must satisfy in order to receive full federal health care funding. 33 According to Janine Brodie, the major role of health care and, more generally, social policy in the construction of Canadian identity is related to the fact that Canada lacks ‘a foundational myth, a story which locates the origins of a nation, [thus] successive Canadian governments have tried to create one’. 34 The expansion of the federal government tied to the creation of modern social programmes and the deepening of social citizenship became a source of national unity, especially in English-speaking Canada. 35 31 Four years later, all Canadian provinces managed a public hospitalization insurance plan subsidized by the federal government. 32 Daniel Béland and André Lecours, ‘Nationalism and Social Policy in Canada and Quebec,’ The Territorial Politics of Welfare (2005), 189–206. 33 At first, all provincial governments opposed this centralizing measure, but, because it proved so popular among the electorate and passed unanimously in the federal parliament, ‘[o]ne by one, provinces moved to comply’. Banting, ‘Canada: National-Building in a Federal Welfare State,’ 123. 34 Brodie, ‘Citizenship and Solidarity,’ 381. 35 Nicola McEwen, ‘The Nation-Building Role of State Welfare in the United Kingdom and Canada’ (2001), 85–105. See also Banting, ‘Canada: National-Building in a Federal Welfare State’.

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Québécois Nationalism and the Politics of Decentralized Social Policy Expansion The Quiet Revolution, which represented a new phase in the evolution of nationalism in Quebec, brought about processes of social, political, and economic modernization triggered by a Francophone white-collar, bureaucratic class whose members became prominent within the Parti libéral du Québec (PLQ) during the 1960s. 36 With the exception of a brief period in opposition (1966–70), the PLQ remained in power from 1960 to 1976. Through the PLQ, the new Francophone elite took control and further developed provincial/state institutions that became central instruments and the driving force behind economic, social, and political modernization. The Quebec government was at the centre of the Quiet Revolution’s modernization, assuming responsibility in the areas of education, health care, and social assistance, all at the expense of the Church. 37 In 1961, Quebec followed other provinces in creating a provincial hospital insurance programme financed in part through the Hospital Insurance and Diagnostic Services Act. In 1964, the Quebec government took over responsibility for education with the creation of a specialized department. These changes brought a new configuration to the nationalism–social policy nexus: while nationalism in Quebec until the 1960s generally involved a rejection of the public delivery of social benefits and services, with the Quiet Revolution, it came to feature an enthusiastic endorsement of this approach. Therefore, social policy expansion in the province was a direct consequence of the Quiet Revolution’s new nationalism. An essential consequence of the fact that the provincial government spearheaded the modernization processes of the Quiet Revolution was the re-territorialization of nationalism. Before the 1960s, the ‘national community’ of Quebec Francophones was ‘French Canada’, conceptualized as including all Francophone Catholics independently of the specific provinces where they lived. Starting in the 1960s, the political and symbolic connection between the province of Quebec and Francophones living elsewhere in Canada began to weaken as a transition from FrenchCanadian to Québécois nationalism began. Not only were the new nationalist political elite that were elected to provincial institutions interested 36 Kenneth McRoberts, Quebec: Social Change and Political Crisis (1993). On the idea that Catholics, many of them clerics, spearheaded the Quiet Revolution, see E-Martin Neunier and Jean-Philippe Warren (eds.), Sortir de la ‘Grande Noirceur’: L’horizon personnaliste de la Révolution Tranquille (2002). 37 McRoberts, Quebec, 131–2.

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in adjusting their national boundaries to Quebec’s, but the social programmes developed by the liberal provincial government (particularly health care, old-age pensions, and social assistance) worked to bolster the idea of Quebec as a national community. When the Church was charged with providing most health and social services, it appealed to an ethnic and religious solidarity that was neither explicitly congruent with, nor defined in terms of, provincial borders. With the provincial government running major social programmes, the national community and Quebec’s territory became inseparable. At the same time as Quebec was assuming responsibility for health care and social assistance, it became involved in a struggle to improve the socio-economic position of Francophones, a position rendered difficult by the long history of social conservatism. The Quebec government deployed two basic strategies to achieve this objective: ‘the establishment of public enterprises and the strengthening of French-Canadian-owned enterprises’. 38 The linguistic legislation of the 1970s, most importantly Bill 101, further supported the upward mobility and employment opportunities of Francophones as it established French as the official language of Quebec and the normal language of the workplace. This new focus on government institutions, language, and socio-economic status corresponded to a redefinition of nationalism. The rapid modernization of society undertaken by the Federal government as it assumed many new responsibilities led to the downfall of the Church as the major actor in the province’s political and social life. In fact, although some of its founders were fervent Catholics, the Quiet Revolution’s creed of modernity promoted secular ideas, and the nation was re-conceptualized as a linguistic, rather than a religious, community. 39 The struggle with the Church was not the only conflict over the control of social policy triggered by the Quiet Revolution and Quebec’s new secular nationalism because, as mentioned above, the federal government now controlled major social programmes that affected Quebec as much as the nine other provinces. From the federal government’s perspective, social policy represented an instrument to foster the loyalty of Quebeckers to Canada. Beyond social policy, during the Pierre Trudeau era (1968–79 and 1980–4), efforts to defeat the secessionist movement featured many high-profile policies: official bilingualism (1969) was meant to increase the comfort level of Francophone Quebeckers in Canada; official multiculturalism highlighted the many ethnic cultures and traditions of the 38

Ibid., 132.

39

See Louis Balthazar, Bilan du nationalisme au Québec (1986).

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country (1971), replacing a polar French–English framework; and the repatriation of the constitution along with the inclusion of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) emphasized Canada’s independence from Britain and created a new pole for the Canadian identity. The ideal of Canada as a ‘just society’ was also part of this nation-building project. In this context, federal social programmes ‘gathered Canadians from all backgrounds and walks of life under the umbrella of a universal “we”—a single national community of fate’. 40 The federal government explicitly acknowledged the connection between national unity and social policy. 41 The 1960s witnessed the crystallization of a confrontation between two nation-building projects, Québécois and Canadian, where social policy was featured as both political tool and target. Quebec officials, much like federal officials, appreciated social policy for much more than its immediate economic purpose. In the words of Premier Robert Bourassa: ‘Income security is far from being merely a means of redistributing wealth; it touches the very fibre of a culture.’ 42 The structures of federalism gave Quebec governments an opportunity to counter the presence of the federal government in the field of social policy on Quebec’s territory. Starting in the 1960s, successive Quebec governments decided that the province could not afford to simply withdraw from these social programmes because of the inherent financial loss. Rather, they claimed the right to ‘opt out’ and obtain financial compensation through a transfer of tax points. 43 Quebec governments were successful in many instances (hospital insurance, social assistance, and vocational training), but in others the federal government resisted. 44 What is noteworthy here is that Quebec governments typically used this money to set up social programmes similar to those previously run by the federal government. 45 Of course, there was instrumental value to these moves in so far as they strengthened Quebec’s developing state bureaucracy and could be used to the electoral advantage of the party in power. 46 Yet symbolism was perhaps more important. For provincial officials, the development of Québécois social programmes was a statement about the 40

Brodie, ‘Citizenship and Solidarity,’ 386. For example, in 1963, it announced its objective as ‘to make us more united’ by ‘extending the equal opportunity which properly belongs to all Canadians in all parts of our country’: 1963 Speech from the Throne, cited in ibid., 386. 42 Quoted in Keith Banting, The Welfare State and Canadian Federalism (1987), 130. 43 This is when ‘the federal government reduced its tax rates in the province and the provincial government simultaneously raised its taxes by the same amount’. See Keith Banting, ‘The Welfare State as Statecraft: Territorial Politics and Canadian Social Policy’ (1995), 269–300. 44 45 46 Ibid., 286–7. McRoberts, Quebec, 141. Ibid., 141–2. 41

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province’s distinctiveness and its desire to take control of policy areas related to identity-building. This initiative was perfectly coherent with the central claim of Quebec’s new nationalism, that is, that the province should enjoy special status within Canada because it bore the unique responsibility of overseeing a Francophone majority. Social policy was therefore enmeshed with nationalism in the context of Canadian federalism as it became a source of conflict between two governments engaged in their respective nation-building exercises. This supports our claim that nationalist movements tend to seek social policy decentralization. During the 1960s, the logic of competitive nation-building between the federal and Quebec governments favoured the greatest social policy expansion (the creation of income-related public pensions and federally subsidized provincial health insurance schemes as well as the advent of provincial family allowances in Quebec) and the most radical push for decentralization in Canadian history (the transfer of tax points to the provinces and the reduction of federal norms in some shared programmes). Provincial and social democratic mobilization favoured a wave of policy innovation. The federal New Democratic Party (NDP) and the province of Saskatchewan pressured federal officials to enact more comprehensive social measures. The PLQ in power in Quebec promoted a decentralized model of social policy expansion. In 1965, following a long bargaining process between the federal government and the provinces, the House of Commons and the Quebec legislature each enacted a law that introduced a second tier of earnings-related pensions, the Canada and Quebec Pension Plans. As a consequence of Quebec’s defence of provincial autonomy and nationalist economic policies, these legislations made possible the implementation of two distinct, yet coordinated, earnings-related public pension programmes: one for the province of Quebec and one for the other nine provinces. 47 Turning to the politics of pension reform sheds light on the abovementioned logic of competitive nation-building between the federal and Quebec governments. Indeed, the idea of implementing an autonomous earnings-related pension programme in Quebec was embedded in economic nationalism. For example, the 21 June 1963 report of the 47 Benefits from either scheme are based on pension credits accumulated under both as if only one scheme existed. Financed through contributions from employees, employers, and self-employed persons, these social insurance schemes protect the contributors and their families against loss of income due to retirement, disability, and/or death. On the federal/provincial bargaining process leading to the enactment of the C/QPP, see Richard Simeon, Federal-Provincial Diplomacy: The Making of Recent Policy in Canada (1972); and Kenneth Bryden, Old Age Pensions and Policy-Making in Canada (1974), 129–82.

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Conseil d’orientation économique du Québec recommended the creation of a provincial contributory pension scheme that could stipulate the ‘accumulation of a retirement fund [that] could serve as a reservoir of capital in conformity with the government’s economy expansion policy’. 48 Such a quotation illustrates the explicit relationship between pension reform and nationalism in the 1960s; with the help of a new provincial investment board (Caisse de dépôt et placement du Québec), Quebec would stimulate both French-Canadian entrepreneurship and the modernization of the province’s economy. From this perspective, nationalism, macroeconomic development, and pension policy converged during the 1960s. For the PLQ, social policy had become a tool of economic emancipation for the Francophone majority living in the province of Quebec. In the domain of health care, Quebec’s more conciliatory attitude as well as pressures from other provinces favoured the construction of a universal yet decentralized health insurance system in Canada. Once again shaping an expansionist social policy agenda, Saskatchewan implemented the first provincial medical insurance programme in 1962. Four years later, after a long period of bargaining between Ottawa and the ten provinces, the Medical Care Act was adopted. By 1972, each Canadian province had developed a universal medical insurance scheme. Although the central government would impose general norms related to federal funding, the ten provinces remained in charge of Canada’s public health care system. 49 Yet, as stated above, the Quebec-led movement against social policy centralization that was so prominent during the 1960s did not radically undermine the federal nation-building project related to the expansion of federal social policy.

The Parti Québécois, Sovereignty, and Social Democracy The connection between nationalism and social policy that appeared in Quebec during the 1960s was the product of the efforts of the province’s new elite to engineer social, political, and economic modernization. This connection involved a competitive relationship between the Quebec and the federal governments. Because both levels of government now 48 Dupont Report, vol. 1 (29), cited in Stephens Brooks and Brian A. Tanguay, ‘Quebec’s Caisse de Depot et Placement: Tool of Nationalism?’ Canadian Public Administration 28, 1 (1985): 99–119. 49 Antonia Maioni, Parting at the Crossroads: The Emergence of Health Insurance in the United States and Canada (1998).

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embraced social policy expansion, the struggle remained essentially institutional. The Quiet Revolution did, however, lay the foundation for a strong linkage between Quebec nationalism and social democracy. Quebec’s new nationalism was linguistic, but the language question was strongly associated with class issues: Francophones were underrepresented in the higher levels of the Quebec economy, and a central objective of the Québécois nationalist movement was to correct this situation. A stream of Québécois nationalism emerged in this context that held a clear discourse of national emancipation ultimately involving independence. Some intellectuals and a minority group of activists (the Front de libération du Québec [FLQ]) found inspiration in revolutionary doctrines targeting the Anglophone bourgeoisie as well as bourgeois Francophones viewed as serving as ‘puppets’. 50 Most supporters of secession, however, chose to operate through democratic means. The founding of the Parti québécois in 1968 marked the beginning of the formal articulation of the secessionist and social democratic perspectives that became prominent in the 1970s. 51 During this period, the PQ’s arguments for ‘sovereignty’ 52 revolved around the idea that Francophones should be able to fully govern themselves. This discourse about the liberation, or emancipation, of Francophones involved definite class overtones. In this context, the emphasis placed on language when making a case for independence was inseparable from the ideal of creating a more egalitarian society. 53 For the PQ, this could only be done if Quebec acquired all the political and institutional tools of a sovereign state. In other words, remaining a province of Canada hampered Quebec’s ability to effectively reduce socio-economic inequalities, in part because of the institutional obstacles to the autonomous development of an entirely distinct social policy system in the province. 54 The PQ’s first political platform stressed the related objectives of the socio-economic advancement of Francophones and the reduction of socio-economic inequalities. Health care, housing, income support, and

50

For example, see Pierre Vallières, White Niggers of America (1971 [1969]). Michael D. Ornstein and H. Michael Stevenson, ‘Elite and Public Opinion before the Quebec Referendum: A Commentary on the State in Canada,’ Canadian Journal of Political Science 14 (1981): 745–74. The connection between secessionism and social democracy was arguably already present in the small Rassemblement pour l’indépendance nationale (RIN) but the PQ made it mainstream. 52 Québécois nationalists typically use ‘sovereignty’ rather than ‘independence’. Moreover, the options put to vote in the 1980 and 1995 referendums were ‘sovereignty-association’ and ‘sovereignty-partnership’, respectively. 53 See the comments by René Lévesque in René Lévesque. La passion du Québec (1978), 186. 54 Ibid., 186. 51

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pensions were conceptualized as undeniable social rights. 55 Its programme for the 1976 provincial election featured commitments to universal and publicly funded health care, education, and social assistance regimes as well as to progressive taxation and substantial redistribution. 56 It also favoured market regulation and encouraged unionization. After its surprise election in 1976, the PQ proceeded to enact several progressive policies: it raised minimum wage to make it the highest rate in North America and adjusted taxation rates to benefit lower income earners. 57 By the end of the 1970s, the PQ could credibly depict itself as both a ‘sovereignist’ and a social democratic party. 58 It had connected nationalism to left-leaning positions on social policy. Of some import is the fact that ideological considerations were foremost in this connection between nationalism and progressive social policy. The institutional context of Canadian federalism had little effect on this ideological dynamic, which was very much endogenous to Quebec. The federal system represented only something to exit from in order to create a better, more egalitarian and solidaristic society, although the federal government was sometimes associated with conservative forces. Interestingly, the fact that Quebec was not one of Canada’s wealthiest provinces did not represent a barrier for the PQ to seek independence in the name of a fairer and more prosperous society. A minority of intellectuals used the socio-economic disparities between Quebec and, for example, Ontario to make the case that independence would make Quebec wealthier by freeing it from a situation of internal colonialism. For most, however, the issue was that sovereignty would create opportunities to reduce inequality and increase social solidarity within Quebec society independently of the resulting level of collective wealth. Consequently, the case of Québécois nationalism in the 1970s strongly suggests that nationalist movements do not always seek the decentralization of social policy because their communities are financial losers of existing political and institutional arrangements. A considerable source of political strength for the PQ was the support it gathered from labour unions. From a long-term historical perspective, this alliance between the labour and the nationalist movements illustrates 55

Parti québécois, Prochaine étape . . . Quand nous serons vraiment chez nous, 1972, 41. For a summary of the commitments formulated in the PQ’s 1976 programme, see André Bernard, ‘Le Parti Québécois, parti social-démocrate’ (1995), 119–21. 57 McRoberts, Quebec, 267. See also Daniel Latouche (ed.), Premier mandat: Une prospective à court terme du gouvernement péquiste, Tome I (1977). 58 Jacques Dofny, ‘Pour un mouvement socialiste’ (1978), 221–9. 56

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the transformation of nationalism initiated during the Quiet Revolution. During the late 1940s and 1950s, the Union Nationale government clashed violently with organized labour. After 1960, Quebec witnessed an increasing politicization of the labour movement and, in the 1970s, it forged an enduring alliance with the PQ. 59 The federal New Democratic Party (NDP), which was the formal voice of the Englishspeaking Canadian labour movement, remained marginal in Quebec. That province’s union leaders approved the enactment of progressive social and economic legislations by the first PQ government, but also appreciated its willingness to consult employers and labour unions through the organization of economic meetings and summits. In such a corporatist environment, the PQ, although not a labour party in the strict sense of the term, gained a quasi-monopoly over the political representation of the labour movement in Quebec. As explained below, however, this alliance between the PQ and the labour movement often generated tension for the sovereignist movement. The same is true for the implicit pact between the PQ and the feminist movement and other left-leaning forces. Although the PQ has long received the support of these constituencies, the alliance between a mainstream ruling party and the more radical social left creates dilemmas for both. 60 The close relationship between the PQ and left-wing civil society organizations was instrumental in forming the ‘Quebec model’, which refers to a structuring of state–society relations presumably distinct from the one prevailing in the rest of Canada. Three features are associated with this model: the first is a corporatist, rather than a pluralist, framework that transforms unions, employers, and selected social movements into partners who are explicitly consulted regarding key policy decisions; the second is the extensive intervention of the state in the field of economic regulation; while the third is the redistribution of wealth and the fostering of social solidarity and equality of opportunity through innovative social policies. As outlined in the next section, this model has certainly not remained unchanged since the 1970s, and it more closely corresponds to PQ than PLQ governments. Yet as a conceptual reference and political structure, the Quebec model effectively generated and sustained the connection between nationalism and social policy. As a conceptual reference,

59 On the history of the labour movement during the 1960s, see Roch Denis and Serge Denis, Les syndicats face au pouvoir: Syndicalisme et politique au Québec de 1960 à 1992 (1992). 60 Christian Brouillard, ‘Mouvement syndical au Québec et changement social: Quelle voie politique? À babord: Revue sociale et politique 5 (May 2004).

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the model has come to embody, alongside language, the notion of distinctiveness so central to Québécois nationalism. More specifically, the Quebec model conveys to Quebeckers a particular image of their society as more just, solidaristic, and egalitarian than ‘elsewhere in Canada’. In this context, it has permeated Quebec identity, and claims for decentralization and/or independence are often made in its name. As a political structure, the Quebec model ties governments to civil society organizations. This situation creates powerful constraints for policy-makers in a province where the labour movement is politicized and social protest is frequent. PLQ governments are especially vulnerable to left-wing social mobilization because they are less nationalist and pro-union than the PQ. Yet collaboration with civil society organizations also limits the autonomy of PQ politicians; the sovereignist party can hardly afford to lose the interest group support that is perceived to be instrumental to the achievement of independence. For the PQ, comprehensive social democracy in Quebec was ultimately conditional upon sovereignty. 61 The 1980 referendum on ‘sovereigntyassociation’ was therefore framed not only in terms of the full emancipation of Francophones, but also as paving the way for a more egalitarian society grounded in a strong vision of national–Quebec–solidarity. In this context, all three major Quebec labour unions positioned themselves, in varying ways, to support a ‘yes’ vote. A resolution adopted by the Confédération des syndicates nationaux (CSN) in 1979 highlights the logic of this position by suggesting that ‘to successfully struggle against national oppression and its various manifestations, the CSN must take part in the process of appropriation by the Québécois people of political, economic, and cultural powers and institutions’. 62 For labour unions, independence was seen as a tool of economic and social liberation. This idea reinforced the explicit alliance between unions and the PQ. In addition to labour officials, many feminists believed that the emancipatory logic of Québécois nationalism was coherent with the crusade for social and economic equality. During its 1979 Congrès national, the PQ reinforced the apparent alliance between the nationalist and the feminist movements by adopting bold proposals to enhance the ‘status of women’ in the 61

André Bernard, ‘Le Parti Québécois, parti social-démocrate’. CSN, Cahier des résolutions, Montréal, congrès spécial, 1–2 June 1979, cited in Roch Denis and Serge Denis, ‘L’action politique des syndicats québécois, de la révolution tranquille à aujourd’hui’ (1994), 167. The original French is the following: ‘pour lutter efficacement contre l’oppression nationale et ses diverses manifestations, la CSN [s’inscrive] dans une démarche d’appropriation par le peuple québécois des pouvoirs et institutions politiques, économiques et culturels’. 62

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province. 63 Yet feminist support and the enactment of such measures did not mean that a large majority of women became sovereignist. During the 1980 referendum campaign, PQ minister Lise Payette, commenting on a survey showing that most women opposed sovereignty, declared that Francophone women should ‘exit their prison of fear’ to embrace both gender equality and national sovereignty. 64 This declaration enraged many women, especially those who embraced traditional gender roles. With the support of the PLQ, the offended women staged federalist rallies that may have contributed to the victory of the federalist camp. 65 During the 1980 referendum campaign, the PQ presented sovereignty as an instrument for social progress and solidarity, but never in terms of specific policies because this discussion tended to put the party on the defensive. Indeed, the federalist side argued that sovereignty jeopardized Quebeckers’ access to social benefits, most importantly federal old-age pensions. 66 The fact that this argument could be put forward with some effectiveness was a testament to the strength of the federal welfare state, which many Quebeckers had come to value and were not ready to abandon despite promises by the PQ of a better society in the advent of a ‘yes’ vote. Alternately, and perhaps more accurately, a substantial number of Quebeckers feared the economic consequences of independence, as a Quebec welfare state could not benefit from sharing the wealth of richer provinces like Ontario. The idea that independence would adversely affect Quebec’s economy was often repeated by federalist leaders and by Quebec’s staunchly federalist business class. In the end, however, it is difficult to definitively ascertain what weight federalist arguments (that sovereignty would endanger old-age pensions and generally impoverish Quebec) carried in the defeat of the ‘yes’ side, which gathered 40 per cent of the vote. For labour unions, the referendum result was interpreted as ‘the victory of the formidable coalition of forces of the capitalist, employers and federalist reaction’. 67 What is certain is that the PQ’s loss in the referendum marked the end of a strict connection between egalitarianism,

63 Parti québécois, D’Égal à égal: Manifeste et propositions concernant la souverainetéassociation (1979). 64 Lise Bissonnette, ‘Dire non à ce courage-là,’ Le Devoir, 11 March 1980. 65 Stéphanie Godin, ‘Les Yvettes comme l’expression d’un féminisme fédéraliste au Québec,’ Revue Mens V, 1 (Fall 2004). 66 Banting, The Welfare State and Canadian Federalism. 67 Future CSN leader Gérald Larose, cited in Denis and Denis, ‘L’action politique des syndicats québécois,’ 168. The original French is the following: ‘la victoire de la formidable coalition des forces de la réaction capitaliste, patronale et fédéraliste du pays’.

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solidarity, social policy, and nationalism through a bold, unambiguous social democratic project.

When Constitutional Politics Takes Over The 1980s witnessed a change in the relationship between Québécois nationalism and social policy. Not only was the connection substantially weakened, but references to social democracy became less central to the nationalist discourse. This transformation was the product of both economic and political factors. Economically, Quebec was hit hard by a recession in the early 1980s. In response, the second PQ government (1981–5), re-elected despite its referendum defeat, quit actively promoting progressive social policies that, during the first PQ mandate, supported the claim that the party was truly social-democratic. In addition, the PQ adopted a tough line with public sector employees during collective bargaining, thereby shaking the corporatist foundations of the Quebec model. From an ideological perspective, the PQ was therefore widely viewed as having lost its social-democratic credentials. The victory of the PLQ at the 1985 elections further relegated social democracy to the background of the Quebec political stage. While there is not a huge ideological and policy difference between the PQ and the PLQ (e.g. the PLQ did not proceed to dismantle PQ policies after it was elected), the Quebec Liberals are less inclined to use the state to intervene in society and regulate the economy. 68 The PLQ is also less nationalist than the PQ, seeking to increase Quebec’s autonomy within the federation rather than promote secession. Consequently, while in power, the Quebec Liberal government of Robert Bourassa (1985–94) did not specifically seek nationalist mobilization or the build-up of the Québécois identity through references to the allegedly progressive nature of Quebec society. Even within the PQ, the connection between nationalism and social policy waned beyond the recession of the early 1980s. A striking illustration of this is the party’s enthusiastic support for free trade, at first with the United States and later with the Americas. Political support for the 1988 Canada–U.S. Free Trade Agreement was noticeably stronger in Quebec than in the rest of Canada, where it was believed that closer economic links with the United States would compromise Canada’s integrity and national identity. Somewhat counter-intuitively, nationalism 68 On the PLQ, see Vincent Lemieux, Le Parti Libéral du Québec. Alliances, rivalités et neutralités (1993).

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explains in large part why free trade met with very little opposition in Quebec. 69 Free trade positioned Quebec within a continental, rather than a Canada-centred, economy. For the PQ, this was a long-term political strategy trumping ideology. Indeed, free trade made particularly good strategic sense as it could lessen Quebec’s commercial ties with the rest of Canada by bolstering trade with the United States. Also, the issue of the economic viability of a sovereign Quebec, which had dogged the PQ during the 1980 referendum, could be defused by inserting it in a freetrade zone. The PQ preference for free trade took an obvious bite out of 1970s-style social-democratic discourse because it involved empowering the market and limiting the ability of the state to regulate the economy. The link between Québécois nationalism and social policy did not diminish in the 1980s solely because the PQ strayed from strong socialdemocratic positions. In the wake of the referendum defeat (1980–2), the context was not appropriate to articulate strong nationalist positions. Then, with the 1982 repatriation of the Canadian Constitution from Great Britain, came a defining moment in Canada’s recent political history. As part of his Canadian nation-building project, Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau had long wanted to bring the Constitution (a British law) home and add to it a charter of rights and freedoms that would serve as a foundational document for the Canadian nation. He was unable, however, to obtain the support of Quebec’s PQ government, which viewed the charter as a centralizing instrument whose content threatened the province’s language laws. After some legal battles, the Constitutional Act came into force in 1982 with the support of nine provinces. This event became a crucial marker for Québécois nationalism, whose intellectuals interpreted it as the rupture of a moral pact between French and English Canada. 70 Yet it did not reactivate hard-line nationalist positions in the short term because the new federal government (1984–93), led by Brian Mulroney’s Progressive Conservative Party, set out to secure the Quebec government’s support for the constitutional change under the theme of ‘national reconciliation’. Significantly, a substantial segment of the PQ’s leadership was willing to give these efforts a chance; this approach was dubbed ‘the beautiful risk’ (le beau risque). The Progressive Conservative Party had built a coalition of various political forces, including ‘soft’ sovereignists willing to give the Canadian federation ‘another chance’. This political connection between traditional PQ followers and a federal 69 Pierre Martin, ‘When Nationalism Meets Continentalism: The Politics of Free Trade in Quebec,’ Regional and Federal Studies 5 (1995): 1–27. 70 See, for example, Guy Laforest, Trudeau and the End of a Canadian Dream (1995).

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right-wing party shows that Québécois nationalism was now dictated more by constitutional than by social and economic issues. Many PQ politicians opposed the conciliatory attitude towards Canada, but they simply chose to leave the party. As a result of this new dynamic, the PQ of the early to mid-1980s was therefore much less nationalist than it had been in the 1970s. The PLQ was the main actor in the negotiations with the federal government to secure Quebec’s signature to the amended constitution because it won power from the PQ in 1985. The resulting agreement, the Meech Lake Accord that was signed by the federal government and the ten provinces in 1987, was then viewed as perhaps a fatal blow to the secessionist stream of Québécois nationalism, which already appeared moribund. But as a result of a variety of political circumstances, the accord was not formally ratified by all provincial parliaments. 71 A second attempt to meet Quebec’s demands, the 1992 Charlottetown Accord, also failed. 72 The failure of these talks to produce a new constitutional amendment formally recognizing a distinct status for Quebec 73 was a fantastic stimulant for Québécois nationalism. Political actors in Quebec, especially the PQ that had reverted to a clear secessionist stance under the leadership of Jacques Parizeau, widely interpreted the collapse of the Meech Lake and Charlottetown accords as a rejection of Quebec by the rest of Canada. The PLQ produced a new political platform seeking massive decentralization of powers from Ottawa, even going so far as to pay lip service to the possibility of sovereignty. 74 The essential point to note is that social policy matters were not specifically targeted. The fury unleashed by the failure of the Meech Lake and Charlottetown accords led the PLQ to articulate claims for wholesale decentralization. In the case of the PQ, the argument for independence was once again forcefully made, but references to social democracy were absent. Instead, the PQ promoted sovereignty using the argument that Quebec was culturally and socially different from the other 71 The key issue was the time lag between the signing of the accord and its ratification by Parliament, which meant that, in some provinces, parties that had been critical of Meech Lake while in opposition were now in government. In addition, there was substantial opposition to the Meech Lake accord, both popular and coming from intellectual leaders like former Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau. The main criticism was that it provided a distinct status for Quebec, which endangered the unity of the Canadian nation. 72 Kenneth McRoberts and Patrick J. Monahan (eds.), The Charlottetown Accord, the Referendum, and the Future of Canada (1993). 73 The Meech Lake and Charlottetown accords were complicated constitutional packages (especially the latter), but their most decisive and controversial feature was the recognition of Quebec as a ‘distinct society’. 74 For example, see Alain-G. Gagnon and Daniel Latouche, Allaire, Bélanger, Campeau et les autre. Les Québécois s’interrogent sur leur avenir (1991).

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provinces and that Canadian federalism was either unwilling or unable to accommodate Quebec in any meaningful way. 75 This rationale for independence centred the PQ’s campaign for ‘sovereignty-partnership’ during the 1995 referendum campaign. The PQ’s argument was essentially twofold. 76 First was the idea that the referendum represented a chance for Francophones to give themselves a country where they would form the majority. This argument had been present ever since the Quiet Revolution. Second was the notion that the structures of Canadian federalism and the attitudes of federal leaders demonstrated a clear rejection of Quebec. That argument was fostered by the 1982 repatriation of the constitution and the ensuing constitutional negotiations. What was less noticeable from the discourse of sovereignist politicians in 1995 was any reference to the (progressive) collective values of Quebeckers and to the type of social policies that sovereignty would enable the Quebec government to implement. Yet there is evidence that the PQ promoted this kind of argument with their labour and feminist movement partners to keep them mobilized. For example, feminist leader Françoise David claims she was told that a ‘yes’ vote was necessary in order to prevent ‘a right-wing wind coming from Ontario’ to touch Quebec. 77 By and large, however, the ‘pro-yes’ discourse avoided connecting sovereignty to social democracy, or even to the development of specific progressive social policies. This was related to the neo-liberal politics of fiscal austerity that dominated the policy debates at both the federal and provincial levels. In the enduring context of the budget deficits and neoliberal fiscal austerity analysed below, social democracy would have been hard to sell as a realistic set of policy alternatives. The focus on the ‘rejection of Quebec’ symbolized by the failure of constitutional negotiations served sovereignists’ leaders well; the ‘yes’ side fell only decimal points shy of 50 per cent. In his concession speech, the then Premier Jacques Parizeau blamed the defeat on ‘money and the ethnic vote’. This targeting of Quebec’s ethnic minorities was widely criticized, and the subsequent effort by the PQ to put this episode behind it and create the image of 75 The proposition that Quebec was different allowed Quebeckers to think of this difference in whichever way they wanted, with language being at that point perhaps what was most important. Indeed, the controversial ‘distinct status’ clause of the constitutional negotiations of that period referred primarily to the province’s French language and culture. 76 For a representative sample of these arguments, see speeches from Premier Jacques Parizeau, Pour un Québec souverain (1997). 77 Cited in Isabelle Hachey, ‘Ringards, les souverainistes? Réinventer l’échiquier politique,’ La Presse, 6 February 2005. The original French text: ‘pour éviter qu’un grand vent de droite vienne de l’Ontario’.

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a civic and inclusive nationalist movement became central to the rearticulation of nationalism and social policy.

Social Policies and the Québécois Identity after 1995 The aftermath of the referendum presented a context full of paradoxes for the PQ government. The party was still devoted to Quebec’s independence, although secession was now an unlikely short-term possibility. Language remained a central element of Québécois nationalism, but this emphasis, especially in the wake of Parizeau’s comments, exposed sovereignist politicians to unwelcome charges of ethnic nationalism. Perhaps more importantly, Canada during the mid-1990s was undergoing a period of retrenchment featuring an unprecedented wave of neo-liberal reforms. As in most advanced industrial countries, the federal government had begun to fight large public deficits during the 1980s, a decade when neo-liberalism and fiscal retrenchment replaced Keynesianism and social policy expansion. Although Canada did not face a radical and explicit neo-liberal crusade similar to those launched by Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan in the United Kingdom and the United States, free trade, privatization, and the war on public deficits began to dominate Canada’s political scene. In the field of social policy, the influence of neo-liberalism materialized slowly as governments attempted to implement cutbacks and pro-market reforms without strongly alienating the electorate. Not only was Quebec not immune to these developments, it was directly affected, as financial transfers from the federal government were reduced. In all jurisdictions, retrenchment was a complicated business for elected officials who faced the possibly negative reactions of beneficiaries and their political allies. For the PQ, a self-described social-democratic party whose ideological discourse was closely linked to its nationalist project, this context was particularly murky. Not only was the PQ ‘embedded’ in progressive civil society networks featuring labour unions and feminist organizations, but the 1995 referendum defeat meant the end of a nationalist mobilization pattern centred on the failures of constitutional negotiations that had pushed social and economic issues to the background. In the late 1990s, the PQ government responded to this difficult context by enacting several progressive social policies. Of foremost significance were two programmes: the 5-dollars-per-day (that later became 7dollars-per-day) day care and the universal prescription drug insurance 68


plan. Numerous motivations spurred the creation of these initiatives. Publicly funded day care, for example, could be understood as both helping women access the labour market and favouring an increase in Quebec’s low birth rates. However, the broader discourse surrounding those initiatives reflected values and identities. In this context, social policy again became a defining element of Québécois identity. Despite significant budget cutbacks made by its government, the PQ has argued that Quebec has a different cultural and political ethos from the rest of Canada, meaning that it is more egalitarian and solidaristic. Although many analysts would contest such claims, the PQ brands the day care and drug insurance programmes, as well as other policies, 78 as evidence that Quebec successfully resisted the neo-liberal turn taken elsewhere in Canada and in other advanced industrial countries. Another ‘proof’ of the distinctive nature of Quebec’s values and ideology was said to be the adoption by the PQ in December 2002 of an ‘anti-poverty law’ that formally committed the government to guarantee income support for low-income residents of the province. Commenting on this policy, then Premier Bernard Landry said that the Quebec model was not only an economic policy, but it was also about wealth redistribution. Adopted in reaction to a wave of civil society mobilizations that joined feminist and antipoverty organizations, this law formalized poverty reduction as a major priority for the Quebec government. 79 Some observers were surprised to see three parties with quite obvious ideological differences (including the then small Action démocratique du Québec [ADQ], commonly regarded as neo-liberal) support such legislation. 80 This support was related to the belief that endorsing this type of resolution would be perceived as being ‘in synch’ with Quebec’s identity, at least in principle. Alongside language, policies dealing with income support, child care, and drug insurance have become an integral part of the nationalist discourse, as these policies are said to both illustrate and reinforce the distinctiveness of the Quebec nation. Sovereignist politicians argue that Quebec is distinct from the rest of Canada not only because it is primarily Francophone but also because it has its own set of social policies grounded in distinct values and institutions. For example, the 2000 PQ platform stated: ‘[U]nitary Canada is developing following a vision different than 78 For example, Quebec governments have kept university tuition rates the lowest in North America. 79 Alain Noël, ‘Une loi contre la pauvreté: La nouvelle approche québécoise de lutte contre la pauvreté et l’exclusion sociale,’ Lien social et politiques 48 (2002): 103–14. 80 Michel Venne, ‘Une fausse lutte contre la pauvreté,’ Le Devoir, 4 October 2004.

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ours, and its decisions stand in the way of our [social] projects.’ 81 In a 2005 policy statement, the Bloc Québécois (BQ) 82 argued that, when it comes to social matters, ‘Quebec is a creative society with high levels of solidarity’, but warns that ‘the measures that have allowed Quebec to become the society in North America where wealth is most extensively redistributed are threatened’ by the structures of Canadian federalism. 83 The labour and feminist movements also promote this idea of Quebec as a compassionate, egalitarian society. The province’s nurses’ union, for example, stresses the values of equality, solidarity, and democracy in arguing that Quebeckers have never believed their collective identity to be defined by the ‘entrepreneurial spirit’. 84 Another key aspect of the debate over the distinct nature of Quebec society concerns the idea that the state must regularly consult civil society actors like feminist groups, labour unions, and community organizations. From this perspective, the state and these actors should work together in order to design better policies. Such a corporatist model is at the centre of the PQ’s traditional social democratic vision. This consultative and corporatist approach is grounded in the promotion of a more active civil society. From this angle, in Quebec, the notion of ‘social economy’ (which refers to community, voluntary, and not-for-profit economic activities) is seen as a symbol of provincial and national distinctiveness that reinforces the image of a more active—and solidaristic—civil society. A significant aspect of the province’s employment and social inclusion policies, ‘social economy’ is without a doubt a more prominent policy issue in Quebec than in other Canadian provinces. 85 It is difficult to assess whether or not there are actually significant differences between Quebeckers and other Canadians with respect to the importance allocated to values such as solidarity and equality of opportunity, and to general policy objectives like poverty reduction. Some surveys

81 Programme du Parti québécois, 2000, 160. Original French text: ‘Le Canada unitaire se construit en fonction d’une vision qui est différente de la nôtre et ses décisions viennent freiner et contrecarrer nos projets’. 82 The BQ is the PQ’s sovereignist counterpart at the federal level. 83 Our translation from the original French: ‘En matière sociale, le Québec est une société innovatrice et solidaire ( . . . ). Les mesures qui ont permis au Québec de devenir la société où la richesse est la mieux distribuée en Amérique du Nord sont menacées’. The adjective ‘solidaire’ is a mainstay of the nationalist characterization of Quebec society. Bloc Québécois, Imaginer le Québec souverain, proposition principale 2005, 10. 84 Fédération des Infirmières et Infirmiers du Québec (FIIQ), Position de la FIIQ sur le plan d’action du gouvernement Charest (2004), 5. 85 For example: Yves Vaillancourt and Louis Favreau, Le modèle québécois d’économie sociale et solidaire (2000).

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on ‘social values’ and policy choices indicate major differences, 86 while others do not. 87 One topic that tends to produce a significant discrepancy is health care reform. Here, survey results show that Quebeckers are more likely than other Canadians to support some involvement of the private sector in the health care system. 88 This situation may partly stem from the fact that Quebec’s health care system is not radically different from the one operating in other provinces and that, outside Quebec, the federal Canada Health Act (which explicitly forbids specific forms of health privatization) is commonly associated with Canadian identity. From this viewpoint, partial health care privatization is not widely depicted as a threat to Quebec’s identity. 89 It should also be noted that even the main promoter of this notion of ‘Quebeckers as compassionate and egalitarian’, the PQ, is in all likelihood more divided than it appears. The cutbacks enacted under PQ governments in the mid-1990s and the PQ’s post-2003 self-examination (La saison des idées) suggest that neo-liberalism has some influence within the party, and that the social-democratic faction is far from hegemonic. 90 Despite these remarks, it is clear that, in most areas, the close ideological connection between Québécois identity and progressive social policy remains. The best demonstration of this enduring connection is the reluctance of most Quebec political actors to launch, or even explicitly announce, neo-liberal social policy reforms, as well as the reactions of civil society organizations and movements to the politicians when they do suggest such reforms. The story of the Quebec Liberals under the leadership of Jean Charest provides evidence of a significant connection between Québécois identity, social mobilization, and progressive social policy. In the 1998 provincial electoral campaign, Charest proclaimed the end of the 86 For example, in a survey conducted in 2002, 68% of Quebeckers thought it was the government’s responsibility to reduce the gap between rich and poor, compared to 42% in the rest of Canada: Centre for Research and Information on Canada, Portraits of Canada 2002 (2002). 87 For such an inconclusive survey, see the Centre for Research and Information on Canada, Portraits of Canada 1998 (1998). Among the results, ‘equality of chances’ was said to be very important by 68% of Quebeckers compared to 78% of Canadians outside Quebec, while 77% of Quebeckers, compared to 76% of Canadians living outside Quebec, considered it very important to act on the issue of the ‘reduction of poverty’. 88 For example, in 2002, 49% of Quebeckers were willing to allow the private sector to provide health care services versus only 33% of Canadians living outside Quebec: Portraits of Canada 2002. 89 Gerard W. Boychuk, ‘The “Alberta Paradox:” The Regulation of Private Health Funding and Insurance in Cross-Provincial Perspective,’ 20 September 2006. 90 In an interview with one of the authors, a former PQ minister even declared outright that the idea of a close relationship between the Québécois identity and progressive social policy was nothing more than electoral rhetoric.

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Quiet Revolution and the beginning of a new era in Quebec politics. This was widely viewed as a (neo-liberal) challenge to the Quebec model. Then PQ leader Lucien Bouchard replied by insinuating that Charest’s ideas were foreign to Quebec, linking them to the neo-liberal policies of Ontario Premier Mike Harris. 91 The PQ defeated the Liberals in these elections. References to social policy retrenchment and neo-liberal restructuring tend to be framed and understood as attacks against Quebec’s nationhood, especially when they come from the PLQ, whose nationalist credentials are often considered suspect. In the 2003 provincial electoral campaign, the PLQ still promised change, but was careful to stress that it would be coherent with ‘our values and our national affirmation’. ‘The ambitions of Quebeckers’, the PLQ stated, ‘are not those of our neighbours. We are different. We want to guide change. We want change that is coherent with us, and which unites us’. 92 With the ADQ now representing the ‘radical’ right-wing force and the PQ’s popularity waning after nine straight years in government, the Liberals were able to form a majority government after a quiet campaign. Once in power, the PLQ’s discourse about change became, or was perceived as, more explicitly neo-liberal. The PLQ focused its political mandate on the idea of ‘re-engineering’ the Quebec government, a mandate heavily criticized by most academics and intellectuals. 93 From a broad comparative perspective with periods of social policy retrenchment in other jurisdictions, the PLQ’s reforms have thus far been fairly modest: labour legislation was amended to make sub-contracting easier; the original 5-dollars-per-day child care was increased to 7 dollars; and scholarship funding for post-secondary students was reduced. The PQ denounced these reforms; a predictable response even if based only on Quebec’s adversarial-style democracy. More striking was the virulent reaction from civil society organizations: trade unions, anti-poverty, community, and feminist groups, and student associations took turns, and sometimes even joined forces, to stage significant demonstrations against the Liberal government and its policies. Of course, this opposition could be understood 91 Bouchard continuously referred to the ‘Charest-Harris plan’ during this campaign. He also branded Charest as someone who ‘did not love Quebec’. 92 Our translation. See Parti libéral du Québec, Un gouvernement au service des Québécois. Ensemble, réinventons le Québec, 2002, 5. The original French text: ‘Les ambitions des Québécois ne sont pas celles de nos voisins. Nous sommes différents. Nous voulons maîtriser le changement. Nous voulons on changement qui nous ressemble et nous rassemble.’ 93 Gérard Boismenu, Pascale Dufour, and Denis Saint-Martin, Ambitions libérales et écueils politiques. Réalisations et promesses du gouvernement Charest (2004); Christian Rouillard et al., La ré-ingénérie de l’État: Vers un appauvrissement de la gouvernance québécoise (2004).

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simply through the left–right ideological dichotomy, but that would overlook the factor making social policy reform so explosive in Quebec: to undermine provincial social policy is to undermine the national (provincial) state. 94 Because specific social policies such as affordable day care have been adopted as something that makes Quebec different from the rest of Canada, there is also a widely held belief that neo-liberal reforms would bring Quebec ‘down’ to the same level of the other provinces. 95 From this perspective, explicitly neo-liberal reforms often clash with the sense of territorial distinctiveness underpinning nationalism. In this context, the rise of the ADQ, a right-of-centre party created in the early 1990s (it split from the PLQ over constitutional issues), could represent somewhat of a puzzle. The story of the ADQ’s initial rise (and fall) supports our notion that the identity–social policy nexus in Quebec renders explicit neo-liberal reform difficult. The ADQ’s popularity remained marginal until 2002, when it experienced a meteoric rise in opinion polls. A combination of factors explains this rise, including a strong autonomist (but not secessionist) stance, a dissatisfaction towards the PQ government, and a lukewarm support for Liberal Leader Jean Charest. Somewhat hidden behind the personal popularity of its own leader, Mario Dumont, was the fact that the ADQ took right-wing positions on many key policy issues. For example, just before the 2003 provincial elections, the ADQ favoured policies like school vouchers and a flat tax that stood in sharp opposition to the ideological, economic, and social profile of the Quebec nation built over the last forty years. Sensing an opportunity, the PQ (and to a lesser degree the PLQ) zeroed in on the ADQ’s policies, accusing the surging party of wanting to take Quebec back forty years. The suggestion was clear: the ADQ’s platform would destroy the building blocks of the Quebec nation. New civil society organizations emerged to fight this ‘neoliberal wind’, thereby adding to an already dense network of leftist and sovereignist organizations. 96 Two things happened to the ADQ as it came under close scrutiny and heavy criticism. First, it backtracked on school vouchers and the flat tax issues, reducing them to ‘interesting ideas’ and ‘long-term objectives’. The party also committed to keeping Quebec’s day care and drug insurance plans intact. Second, its popularity plummeted, leading to disappointing electoral results. 97 94 Denis Saint-Martin, ‘La réforme de l’État-providence: L’État social québécois n’a pas été producteur que de corporatismes mais aussi d’identité,’ La Presse, 8 January 2004. 95 96 Ibid. For example, Vigilance. 97 In the 2003 Quebec election, the ADQ received only 18% of the popular vote, compared to 33% for the PQ and 46% for the PLQ. Only four ADQ candidates were elected to the provincial legislature. The Liberals formed a majority government with 76 of 125 seats.

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In the aftermath of the 2003 elections, it seemed that the ADQ’s 2002 and early 2003 popularity was to be only a temporary blip on the Quebec political scene, with public support back in the teens. However, just before the 2007 elections, ADQ leader Mario Dumont denounced the extent to which Quebec society provided so-called ‘reasonable accommodations’ to ethnic minorities. The party’s popularity shot up again, but this time it held up as the ADQ won forty-one seats to become the official opposition (ahead of the PQ, which won thirty-six seats) to the Liberal minority government. The ADQ’s success in 2007 was primarily the product of its stance on the ‘reasonable accommodations’ issue, which stood in sharp contrast to the PLQ’s and PQ’s. The timing was also right for the ADQ’s strong autonomist position, which situated it between the PQ’s secessionism and the PLQ’s milder demands for increased autonomy, because the federal Conservative government had proven amenable to many of Quebec’s claims. Moreover, Dumont’s personal popularity dwarfed both Jean Charest’s and PQ leader André Boisclair’s popularity. From this perspective, the success of a fiscally conservative, openly neo-liberal party in Quebec can be explained, especially because the ADQ, a party with strong nationalist credentials (it supported the ‘yes’ side in the 1995 referendum) never explicitly challenged the distinct social programmes that have become embedded with the national identity. Yet, it is possible that the ADQ’s rise could mark a significant change in Quebec’s nationalism– social policy nexus, as this party is not focusing on social policy as a major symbol of national identity in the province. However, in 2007, it remained apparent that the notion of abandoning the Quebec model, or even tinkering with it, was still widely seen as a betrayal of the province’s identity. Moreover, marginalizing this distinctiveness was still viewed as tantamount to weakening the province, as claims for social policy decentralization have typically been justified by the existence of different, more solidaristic and egalitarian values. We now examine this issue.

Retrenchment, Budget Surpluses, and Nationalist Mobilization In Canada like in other countries, efforts to control social spending began in the 1970s, though the shift from expansion to retrenchment became more dramatic during the Mulroney government’s first mandate (1984–8). Thereafter, federal Progressive Conservative and Liberal governments used three main retrenchment strategies: benefit targeting, 74


tighter eligibility criteria, and unilateral retrenchment. 98 An example of the first strategy is the incremental targeting of federal family allowances, which led to their replacement by an income-tested tax benefit in 1993. In the field of old-age pensions, attempts to target basic benefits (Old Age Security) through the adoption of a ‘claw back’ tax device (taking back a portion or all of the benefits paid to more affluent citizens) have been far less successful. 99 Although criticized by the left in the name of universalism, this form of retrenchment, as opposed to the two other forms discussed in the rest of this paragraph, did not trigger widespread provincial discontent. Stricter eligibility criteria, the second retrenchment strategy, principally affected the federal Unemployment Insurance programme, which was renamed Employment Insurance in 1996 in order to symbolize the logic of ‘activation’ that encouraged the unemployed to return to work as soon as possible. Although individuals living in high unemployment regions still had to work fewer weeks than other Canadians to access benefits, tighter eligibility criteria excluded numerous people from coverage. Combined with benefit cuts and other changes enacted between 1990 and 1996, tighter eligibility criteria favoured a transformation of unemployment insurance. 100 Unilateral retrenchment, the third major retrenchment strategy, proved a major stimulant to Québécois nationalism. It refers here to a reduction in federal funding for provincial programmes in key policy areas such as health care, postsecondary education, and social assistance. The 1996 Canada Health and Social Transfer (a federal block grant for health, social assistance and postsecondary education) illustrated this logic. For example, instead of equally sharing the costs of social assistance programmes between the federal and participating provincial governments, this legislation expanded the block grant strategy designed to control—and reduce—federal social and health spending. 101 To reduce the potential level of provincial 98 Maureen Baker, ‘The Restructuring of the Canadian Welfare State: Ideology and Policy’ (1997); Sylvia Bashevkin, ‘Rethinking Retrenchment: North American Social Policy during the Early Clinton and Chrétien Years,’ Canadian Journal of Political Science 33 (2000): 7–36. On the politics of retrenchment in Canada, see also Gérard Boismenu and Jane Jenson, ‘La réforme de la sécurité du revenu pour les sans-emploi et la dislocation du régime de citoyenneté canadienne,’ Politique et sociétés 15 (1996): 29–52; James J. Rice and Michael J. Prince, Changing Politics of Canadian Social Policy (2000). For a comparative perspective, see Leslie A. Pal and R. Kent Weaver (eds.), The Government Taketh Away: The Politics of Pain in the United States and Canada (2003). 99 Daniel Béland and John Myles, ‘Stasis Amidst Change: Canadian Pension Reform in an Age of Retrenchment’ (2005), 252–72. 100 Georges Campeau, From UI to EI: Waging the War on the Welfare State (2005). See also Pascale Dufour, Gérard Boismenu, and Alain Noël, L’aide au conditionnel (2003). 101 The following discussion about social assistance draws on Baker, The Restructuring of the Canadian Welfare State.

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discontent, the Liberal government combined unilateral retrenchment with normative deregulation of social assistance. Consequently, the provinces gained almost full autonomy in the management of their social assistance programmes. 102 Beyond social assistance, major cuts in federal transfers to the provinces affected health care and postsecondary education. The creation of the Canada Health and Social Transfer infuriated provincial leaders, who faced a sudden reduction in federal transfers. As mentioned earlier, social policy represents an integral component of modern Canadian identity, and cutbacks enacted in the mid-1990s were perceived as a significant threat to ‘national unity’. Furthermore, provincial protest against federal cutbacks reinforced the idea that the country faced a serious unity crisis. In the face of strong criticism, the federal government initiated studies about ‘social cohesion’ in the late 1990s. In general, ‘these studies have pointed out that, unlike early periods, when Canadians were engaged in collective projects such as building the post-war safety net, there is now no commending project upon which to build a collective sense of identity’. 103 In the post-war era, social policy constituted a strong source of ‘national unity’. During the mid-1990s, in Canada, the neo-liberal downsizing and restructuring of federal social policy had the opposite effect: cutbacks in transfers to the provinces 104 exacerbated regionalism, provincial discontent and, in Quebec, nationalism. 105 To a certain extent, this situation is similar to the one that prevailed in the United Kingdom when Conservative policies gave Scottish nationalism new political ammunition (Chapter 3). Discontent regarding federal cutbacks proved widespread across Canada. For example, cutbacks in unemployment insurance benefits alienated voters in the four Atlantic Provinces (New Brunswick, Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, and Prince Edward Island), a poorer region 102 Interestingly, the pre-1996 arrangements (Canada Assistance Plan) had not prevented the development of distinct provincial social assistance regimes in Canada. On this issue see Gerard W. Boychuk, Patchworks of Purpose: The Development of Provinicial Social Assistance Regimes in Canada (1998). 103 Brodie, ‘Citizenship and Solidarity,’ 389. 104 For example, the first Chrétien government reduced health care–related transfers to the provinces by more than 30%: CCPA, Health Care, Limited: The Privatization of Medicare (2000). 105 At the state level, left-wing academic Gordon Laxer even argued that neo-liberal retrenchment would lead to an Americanization of Canada, and in the long run, the disappearance of Canada as a sovereign country: Gordon Laxer, ‘Surviving the Americanizing New Right,’ Canadian Review of Sociology and Anthropology 37, 1 (February 2000): 55–73.

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where many seasonal workers tend to rely on social benefits during the long Canadian winter. Furthermore, in Atlantic Canada as well as elsewhere around the country, provincial leaders criticized the federal government for undermining their financial resources in the face of rapidly rising health care costs. This was the case even in Ontario, traditionally a loyal partner of Ottawa and a broker between Canada’s federal and provincial governments. In Quebec, social policy retrenchment at the federal level offered new opportunities and new arguments for nationalist mobilization. For the PQ, the new fiscal constraints placed upon Quebec by the federal government’s cuts in financial transfers to the provinces endangered the ability of the Quebec government to promote social and economic development. Three years of post-referendum retrenchment opened the way for a nationalist discourse denouncing Canadian federalism for depriving Quebec of the financial resources needed to develop and preserve progressive social policies (‘progressive’ meaning, in this case, policies coherent with the alleged values and preferences of Quebeckers). Throughout 1998, then Premier Lucien Bouchard criticized the federal government for being irresponsive to Quebec’s social needs and for preferring to spend tax dollars on a display of Canadian flags on advertisements, cheques, and buildings instead. 106 He also denounced Prime Minister Jean Chrétien for putting money towards debt reduction, saying that, for the federal government, ‘Ottawa’s debt is important. But Ottawa’s debt towards patients, Jean Chrétien does not care. Ottawa’s debt towards the unemployed, victims of the reform, Jean Chrétien does not care’. 107 For Bouchard and the PQ, federal retrenchment was an argument for independence: the federal government was spending Quebeckers’ money on neo-liberal priorities such as debt reduction instead of making it available for social needs. Yet at the same time, the PQ government was seeking to eliminate the province’s own deficit and presenting this exercise as the foundation for sovereignty. 108 As the federal government began to register significant budget surpluses beginning in the late 1990s, the nationalist discourse became

106 Speech by Quebec Premier Lucien Bouchard delivered to the PQ’s national council on 21 February 1998. 107 Our translation from: ‘La dette publique d’Ottawa, c’est important. Mais la dette d’Ottawa envers les patients, Jean Chrétien s’en fiche. La dette d’Ottawa envers les chômeurs victimes de la réforme de l’assurance-emploi, Jean Chrétien s’en fiche’: Speech delivered by Quebec Premier Lucien Bouchard to the PQ’s national council on 18 September 1998. 108 See the two speeches cited above.

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more straightforward: the bulk of the fiscal resources needed to support Quebec’s progressive social policies are in Ottawa. Quebec politicians called this discrepancy between federal revenues and the level of provincial spending to sustain existing programmes the ‘fiscal imbalance’. From a broader comparative perspective, this issue is common to most federations as federal governments tend to have greater taxation powers, while federated units are empowered to act in areas that are expensive to fund (like health and education). In Quebec, there was consensus among the three parties represented in Parliament (PQ, PLQ, ADQ) that fiscal imbalance was a problem that needed to be addressed. The federal Liberal party never explicitly recognized the concept of ‘fiscal imbalance’, and the greater financial resources of the federal government were utilized by the federal Liberals to develop various programmes (from scholarships for university students to parental leave) that fitted not only a socially progressive perspective but also a nation-building process. However, the federal Conservative government, elected in 2006, recognized fiscal imbalance as a problem and, in March 2007, Prime Minister Stephen Harper announced that he was ‘fixing’ this imbalance by allocating more money to the provinces through a revision of the equalization formula one week before the Quebec provincial election was to be held. Quebec received the bulk of the extra money (more than 2 billion dollars in 2007 only), to the great satisfaction of Premier Jean Charest, although this did not help the Quebec Liberals get enough seats to form a second consecutive majority government. The PQ was somewhat trapped by this federal move on the fiscal imbalance issue because it had used the refusal of the federal Liberal government to correct the imbalance to portray it as a centralizing and domineering force threatening Quebec’s distinctively progressive social policies. Despite movement on the fiscal imbalance front, the PQ has nevertheless stuck with its argument that the only political choice left for Quebeckers who wish to preserve their social programmes, and therefore their identity, is sovereignty. This statement from 2000 still represents the essence of the PQ’s views on independence and social solidarity: ‘Only Quebec sovereignty will give us full control over our social development. Promoting greater equality, encouraging more meaningful participation, and favouring a global approach to problems means that only one government, ours, should formulate policies.’ 109 Short of independence, the PQ 109 Programme du Parti québécois, 2000, 160. Original French text: ‘Seule la souveraineté du Québec nous donnera la pleine maîtrise de notre développement social. Promouvoir une plus

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opposes the federal government’s presence in social policy fields where it considers Quebec to have exclusive jurisdiction. In some cases, for example labour training and maternity leave, it has pushed for decentralization. In other cases, such as in health care reform, it has sought to simultaneously increase the level of federal funding available and keep the federal government from intervening too directly in the governance of Medicare. Such attempts on the part of the federal government become a rallying cry for nationalist politics. For example, when the federal Romanow Commission report, mandated to investigate the future of health care in Canada, came out in November 2002 with recommendations to increase ‘targeted funding’ (i.e. where the federal government would define priorities and make financial transfers conditional upon spending in specified areas) and to create a federal monitoring body, the PQ reacted with vitriol. The commission’s report was called a ‘takeover’ of Quebec’s health care system and a ‘frontal attack against Quebec’s identity’. 110 Parti québécois leaders stated that they would prefer to abandon the money rather than comply with federal conditions, and they threatened to hold a referendum on health care financing. 111 The nation-building properties of the health care system in Canada were neatly illustrated by Commissioner Romanow’s plea to the Prime Minister to get ‘tough with premiers who demand more health care money without conditions’ because ‘Canada’s medical system and national identity’ depended on it. 112 In Quebec, the ideological connection between sovereignty and progressive social policies remains strong. Of course, not all sovereignists are left-leaning and supportive of far-reaching and highly redistributive social policies. Some PQ and BQ politicians fall more to the right of centre, but they operate within disciplined parties whose majority supports greater state interventionism. This means that neo-liberal perspectives on sovereignty are typically not heard. 113 Similarly, not everyone self-identifying as a social democrat (or socialist) supports sovereignty or makes it their priority. An interesting related debate occurred at the margin of Quebec’s party system where a new party (first called Option citoyenne, spearheaded grande égalité, valoriser une participation plus significative, privilégier une approche globale des problèmes exigent qu’un seul gouvernement, le nôtre, définissent toutes les politiques.’ 110 See, respectively, Allison Hanes, ‘We’ll refuse the money if necessary: Quebec,’ Gazette, 29 November 2002; Rhéal Séguin, ‘Romanow call for greater control may lead to spring vote,’ Globe & Mail, 30 November 2002. 111 Hanes, ‘We’ll refuse the money if necessary: Quebec’; Rhéal Séguin, ‘Quebec mulling over health care plebiscite,’ Globe & Mail, 4 December 2002. 112 Graeme Smith, ‘Romanow warns PM: Don’t cave in,’ Globe & Mail, 2 December 2002. 113 Interview with a former PQ minister, 15 November, 2004.

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by feminist activists, then Québec solidaire) tackled ‘the great taboo of the national question’ by disentangling sovereignty and socialism and prioritizing the latter. 114 Published replies to this approach stated that one would have to be ‘blind’ not to see that the most progressive elements in Quebec were sovereignists. 115 Critics pointed to Quebec’s social programmes, ‘the most advanced in Canada’, to argue that any alliance with forces from elsewhere in the country to change politics in Canada as a whole would be fruitless. They also argued that an ambitious social democratic programme could not be fully fulfilled if Quebec remained a Canadian province. The disappointing result of Québec solidaire in the 2007 election (3.7 per cent of the vote and no seat) meant that the future of the party was very much in doubt, and that the idea of prioritizing leftwing positions over the national question may not be politically viable. When the PLQ took power in 2003, tackling the issue of fiscal imbalance involved both maintaining a feisty attitude towards the federal government and generating new momentum and institutions for intergovernmental relations. At a discursive level, it is very important for the PLQ to be critical of the federal government in order to enable it to present itself as a firm defender of Quebec. For example, reacting to Ottawa’s proposal for a compassionate leave programme that would pay unemployment benefits to individuals who need time off to care for a dying relative, the PLQ complained about another ‘intrusion’ into Quebec’s jurisdiction. Bold nationalist rhetoric is also potentially useful for reducing the scope of political blame stemming from controversial reform proposals or explaining problems in specific social policy sectors. PLQ (as well as PQ) governments have long argued, for example, that the province’s health care system suffered from Ottawa’s underfunding. Long waiting lists in emergency rooms symbolize the negative consequences of this alleged underfunding. Regarding health care reform, nationalist attacks against the federal government is a useful blame avoidance strategy for Quebec politicians of all stripes who can place responsibility on Ottawa for the problems faced by the provincial health care system (e.g. increasing costs, overcrowded emergency rooms, and long waiting lists for most types of surgery). 116 114 See Alexa Conradi, Françoise David, and Francois Saillant, ‘Le grand tabou de la question nationale,’ Le Devoir, 24 July 2004. 115 See Lucille Beaudry and Robert Comeau, ‘Quand le social occulte la question nationale,’ Le Devoir, 14 July 2004. 116 On the concept of credit claiming, see R. Kent Weaver, ‘The Politics of Blame Avoidance,’ Journal of Public Policy 6 (1986): 371–98.

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In addition to maintaining an assertive attitude towards the federal government, Quebec’s Liberal government sought to devise new mechanisms of intergovernmental relations to pressure the federal government into supplying more funding for provincially operated social programmes like health care. In this context, it spearheaded the creation of a Council of the Federation to serve as a forum where provincial governments could coordinate their positions and build up stronger leverage in their relations with Ottawa. Interestingly, Quebec governments since the Quiet Revolution have consistently sought the decentralization of social policy even if the province is a net receiver in Canada’s equalization programme, which reallocates fiscal resources to poorer provinces in order to guarantee that citizens from all regions of the country have access to the same basic public services. 117 Indeed, Quebec has received net transfers through this federal programme ever since it was established in 1957. 118 Moreover, the role of social policy in nationalist mobilization in Quebec is most often unrelated to the specifics of a programme. Quebec governments rarely seek to decentralize social programmes because they want to do something radically different from federal governments; this was true during the Quiet Revolution and it is true today. In some instances, the specific features of programmes would be tweaked. For example, the Quebec government requested to administer maternity leave so that the period of coverage could be extended by a few weeks. But most importantly, decentralist claims about social policy should be understood within a particular institutional dynamic. Canadian federalism features provincial governments with substantial autonomy as well as distinct and well-regarded political classes. 119 As a result of the mutation of the essentially defensive French-Canadian nationalism into a more proactive Québécois nationalism in the 1960s, there developed a tremendous political will to promote and protect Quebec’s distinctiveness. As we saw, social policy is featured prominently in this equation, and the province’s political elite could use the legitimacy and constitutionally recognized jurisdictions of their institutions to struggle for decentralization in this field. At the other end of that struggle is a federal political elite that also appreciates the value of social programmes for national cohesion, 117 For an interesting discussion on equalization, see Bruno Théret, Protection sociale et Fédéralisme: L’Europe dans le miroir de l’Amérique du Nord (2002). 118 Most complaints about the equalization programme have come from the oil-rich province of Alberta, which has long been a net contributor to the programme. 119 By this we mean that provincial politicians are not considered ‘second-class’ politicians compared to their federal counterparts.

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and that has made strategic decisions about whether or not to transfer competence in specific social policy areas to Quebec, or to make a special arrangement with the province. From this perspective, federalism not only provides a structural dynamic for the social policy–Québécois nationalism nexus to play out, but it is also affected by it.

The Impact of Nationalist Mobilization on Social Policy: Cooperative Federalism with a Footnote In mono-national federations such as Germany and the United States, there is typically a single basic understanding of federalism that most often features a prominent central government coexisting with federated units of formally equal status. In Canada’s multinational federation, there are competing understandings of federalism and how it should work. 120 For some, Canada should be viewed in terms of ten equal provinces. This symmetrical view of Canadian federalism was promoted most forcefully in the 1970s and early 1980s by Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau, who felt that the policy of official bilingualism accounted sufficiently for Quebec’s linguistic distinctiveness. For others, primarily Quebeckers, Canada is the product of a compact between two ‘peoples’, French and English. 121 During the Quiet Revolution, Quebec politicians actualized this perspective by arguing that the Quebec government had the additional responsibility of protecting and promoting the French language and culture. They argued that Quebec should therefore not be considered a province like the others, but rather, that it should be given a distinct status. These different views of Canadian federalism came to a head during the 1980s and early 1990s in the context of constitutional politics. The major claim of the Quebec government during these constitutional negotiations was for the province to be recognized as a ‘distinct society’ within Canada. The controversial nature of such a ‘distinct society’ clause is what ultimately caused the failure of the negotiations. Hence, it could be argued, 120 Kenneth McRoberts, Misconceiving Canada: The Struggle for National Unity (1997). This does not mean that there is no debate over the meaning of federalism in mono-national countries like the United States: Daniel Béland and François Vergniolle de Chantal, ‘Fighting “Big Government”: Frames, Federalism, and Social Policy Reform in the United States,’ Canadian Journal of Sociology 29 (2004): 241–64. 121 Aboriginals are typically forgotten in these narratives, but needless to say, they inhabited the territories of present-day Canada first. Accordingly, and taking into account their historical treatment by the Canadian government, Aboriginal populations have their own understandings of federalism.

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at least from a constitutional perspective, that Canada is a relatively symmetrical federation despite some constitutional provisions making distinct references to Quebec in the areas of education and minority rights, as well as property and civil rights. 122 Yet from a policy perspective, there are many asymmetrical aspects to Canadian federalism as it relates to Quebec. Differently said, Québécois nationalism has, to some extent, made Canadian federalism asymmetrical in practice. Many of the asymmetries occur in the field of social policy because it is this field that Quebec most wants to control. 123 Social policy asymmetry has followed at least three different patterns. One pattern is when a power historically exercised by the federal government is decentralized to Quebec but not to the other provinces. When this type of asymmetrical decentralization occurs, it always constitutes a response to nationalist pressures in Quebec. Typically, the federal government formally states that it is open to broadening decentralization to other provinces, although it is known that only one wants to assume new responsibilities. Obviously, not all Quebec claims for decentralization engender this response from the federal government, which is also keen to retain meaningful social policy ties with Quebeckers. In the case of professional training, however, the federal government decided to respond positively to Quebec’s decentralist claims. In the aftermath of a close referendum result, there was immense pressure on the federal government to show flexibility and demonstrate the possibilities for accommodation inherent in Canadian federalism. The issue of pension plans formed the earliest and perhaps most significant instance of asymmetrical decentralization in the field of social policy. As mentioned above, pressures stemming from Quebec nationalism favoured the enactment of distinct but coordinated earnings-related public pension programmes: the Quebec Pension Plan (QPP) and the Canada Pension Plan (CPP), which covers workers in the nine other provinces. The payroll tax levels and the replacement rate are identical for both schemes. Because the federal and provincial governments share constitutional responsibility for this programme, Ottawa must reach an agreement with at least two-thirds of the provinces representing two-thirds of the Canadian population before enacting any reform. 124 Importantly, the need for policy coordination within the Canadian pension system means 122

See David Milne, ‘Asymmetry in Canada, Past and Present,’ 2005. The most prominent asymmetry outside social policy is in immigration. Quebec is the only province to control its immigration, save for refugees and family reunification. 124 Ken Battle, ‘Pension Reform in Canada,’ Canadian Journal of Aging 16 (1997): 519–52. 123

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that Quebec must be consulted before any reform of the Canada Pension Plan is implemented. Yet between the late 1960s and the mid-1990s, the QPP and the CPP managed their trust fund surpluses very differently: assets from the QPP trust fund were invested in equities and real estate to support provincial economic growth and French-Canadian entrepreneurship, while CPP surpluses were lent to the provinces at preferred rates to subsidize provincial debt. This difference was a direct outcome of the Quiet Revolution, which witnessed the creation of an autonomous investment board (Caisse de dépôt et placement), the purpose of which was to promote economic development and Francophone entrepreneurship in the province. Since the late 1960s, the Caisse has invested money from the QPP as well as other provincial insurance and pension funds in bonds, equities, and real estate. The Caisse has since then emerged as the largest portfolio of Canadian equities, as well as the largest real estate portfolio, in the country. In 1998, two distinct reforms increased the level of payroll taxes for both the QPP and the CPP while creating a CPP Investment Board that would invest pension surpluses of that scheme in equities. Interestingly, the CPP investment model differs from that of Quebec because federal officials rejected the imperative of ‘economic development’ associated with the Caisse in order to put together a model inspired by private sector practices rather than Quebec-style economic nationalism. 125 A second pattern of asymmetry related to social policy is what has been called ‘collaborative federalism with a footnote’. 126 Consensus over social policy reform or new initiatives is hard to attain in Canadian federalism, as provinces usually seek to protect their own autonomy to act. Yet most of the time, provincial governments other than Quebec can be persuaded to accept joint social programmes or policy coordination with the federal government. For Quebec Liberal and PQ governments alike, however, institutional autonomy in the development of social programmes is a top priority. 127 With the PQ in power during the late 1990s, the political strategy became to simply disengage from federal–provincial discussions about social policy in Canada. Consequently, agreements 125 R. Kent Weaver. ‘Whose Money is it Anyhow? Governance and Social Investment in Collective Investment Funds’ (2003). See also Daniel Béland, ‘The Politics of Social Learning: Finance, Institutions and Pension Reform in the United States and Canada,’ Governance: An International Journal of Policy, Administration and Institutions 19, 4 (2006): 559–83. 126 Alain Noël, ‘Without Quebec: Collaborative Federalism with a Footnote’ (2000), 5. 127 Gérard Boismenu, ‘Les nouveaux visages des vieux démons. Les défis posés au fédéralisme par la restructuration de la protection sociale au Canada,’ Lien sociale et Politiques, 56 (2006), 57.

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regarding new policy initiatives such as the National Children’s Agenda came with a footnote stipulating that the Quebec government, although supporting the principle behind the proposal, did not wish to participate. Provincial mobilization to reform federal–provincial relations in the field of social policy led to the emergence of the Social Union Framework Agreement (SUFA). 128 At first, SUFA constituted a genuine effort to stop unilateral, discretionary federal retrenchment that had proved so detrimental to the provinces. By August 1998, even the PQ government had formally joined the interprovincial coalition over this issue. 129 Yet in the end, Quebec opted out of the final agreement, and the final version of SUFA adopted by Ottawa and nine of the ten provinces in 1999 did not really restore confidence and ‘collaboration’ in the Canadian federal system. For Alain Noël, this final agreement only exacerbated the recent concentration of power in Canadian federalism: Collaborative federalism is hierarchical. In fact, Canadian federalism has never been more centralised. Power is concentrated not only in Ottawa, but also at the top, in the prime minister’s ‘court.’ Collaboration occurs, but it is the collaboration of rowing agents who follow the indications of a steering principal whose behaviour is difficult to understand, let alone to predict. . . . Collaboration, of course, also takes place without Quebec, the only government that would challenge federal hegemony in a fundamental way. 130

Pointing to Quebec’s grievances regarding the final agreement, this citation stresses the clear link between SUFA and the debate on ‘national unity’. Efforts at coordination in Canada’s federal system are typically motivated, at the broadest level, by a sense of Canadian nationalism in so far as these efforts often reflect an attempt by the federal government to assert its influence on policy-making and, especially in Quebec, to generate attachment and loyalty to Canada. In such a context, these types of coordination initiatives are badly seen by the PQ. According to the PQ’s 2000 political platform, SUFA ‘allows the federal government to usurp Quebec’s power over education, health, the family, and social security/welfare. The Social Union takes our social policies hostage and 128 On SUFA, see Alain-G. Gagnon, and Hugh Segal (eds.), The Canadian Social Union without Quebec: Eight Analyses (2000); Sarah Fortin, Alain Noël, and France St-Hilaire (eds.), Forging the Canadian Social Union: SUFA and Beyond (2003). 129 Noël, Without Quebec. 130 Ibid., 11. For a critical discussion of Noël’s work and the recent Canadian literature on collaborative federalism see Gérard Boismenu and Peter Graefe, ‘The New Federal Toolbelt: Attempts to Rebuild Social Policy Leadership,’ Canadian Public Policy 30 (2004): 71–89.

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therefore directly threatens our social development’. 131 From this perspective, SUFA constituted a threat to Quebec’s interests, not a solution to enduring federal–provincial tensions. The final pattern of asymmetry with respect to the implementation of social policy in Canada came in 2004 in the form of a distinct agreement between the federal and the Quebec governments over health care funding. The agreement required nine provinces to comply with measures of accountability regarding the delivery of health care services while exempting Quebec. Similarly, it sets for these nine provinces specific priorities (e.g. expanding home care services) that are not binding on the Quebec government. As such, this agreement on health may have opened a new pattern in Canadian federalism where Québécois nationalism helps trigger an asymmetry not so much linked to a decentralization of power to the province, but rather to an uneven configuration in the way policy objectives are set and outcomes monitored. 132 Many observers saw in this deal a precedent for future exercises of policy coordination in Canada that would include separate arrangements with Quebec, since for the first time the concept of ‘asymmetrical federalism’ allows ‘for the existence of specific agreements for any province’ featured in a formal text. 133 As such, the health accord may structure Canadian federalism above and beyond the social policy domain. For example, a few days after signing the accord, Quebec Premier Jean Charest announced he was seeking the formalization of the province’s role in international affairs through a similar agreement with Ottawa. 134 Part of this claim was met when, in May 2006, Prime Minister Stephen Harper agreed to give Quebec a special status within the Canadian delegation at UNESCO. Nationalism in Quebec has, in part, shaped the politics of social policy reform within Canadian federalism not only by forcing asymmetry, but also by framing the terms of political debate in the area of social policy and beyond. In other words, Québécois nationalism has been a substantial agenda-setting force in Canada. For example, the theme of ‘fiscal 131 Programme du Parti québécois, 2000, 160. Original French text: ‘( . . . ) permet au gouvernement fédéral de s’approprier les compétences du Québec dans les domaines tels l’éducation, la santé, la famille, la sécurité du revenu et l’aide au démunis. Cette prise en otage de nos politiques sociales menace directement notre développement social.’ 132 Campbell Clark and Rhéal Séguin, ‘Medicare deal signals PM’s new federalism,’ Globe & Mail, 17 September 2004, A1. 133 Elizabeth Thompson, ‘Quebec deal a first,’ Gazette, 17 September 2004, A1. 134 Rhéal Séguin, ‘Quebec seeking special deal on foreign affairs,’ Globe & Mail, 29 September 2004.

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imbalance’ was taken up by the nine other provinces. After the PQ government organized, in 2001, a Commission sur le déséquilibre fiscal (Commission on Fiscal Imbalance), the disparity in resources between Ottawa and Quebec City was identified by all the Quebec parties as a major problem. When the PLQ took power in 2003, it successfully promoted this plan with the other provinces to pressure the federal government more effectively to increase funding for social programmes. Although the federal Liberal government formally denied the existence of a fiscal imbalance, it increased funding for health care (the major loser in the fiscal imbalance situation, according to Quebec parties) when faced with a united provincial front. Following the advent in Ottawa of a Conservative minority government in early 2006, correcting the fiscal imbalance became a major federal priority and involved a wholesale review of the equalization formula. Another agenda-setting effect of Québécois nationalism across Canada stems from the tangible influence exerted by social policies enacted in Quebec in the name of the province’s national solidarity and distinctiveness. For example, Quebec’s child care programme put pressure on the federal government to create a similar Canadian national policy. In discussion about child care reform across the country, experts have referred to the Quebec model as one of the main options available to policy-makers at the federal level (as well as in other provinces). 135 In the 2004 federal election campaign, the Liberal Party alluded to child care à la québécoise when promising new policy in this area and in their government’s first budget. They pledged no less than 5 billion dollars over five years to set up a national child care framework. Of course, Quebec is not the only province to play a key role in broad Canadian social policy debates. Yet Quebec’s distinctive social policies and its political importance within the Canadian federation make it a crucial player in the field of social policy reform in Canada. Innovative policies enacted in the province are often referred to as good examples to follow by left-leaning politicians in other parts of the country. This influence of Quebec’s social policies elsewhere in Canada is rather paradoxical in so far as the province’s politicians and social actors have associated them with Quebec’s own national identity and distinctiveness. 135 See, for example, Martha Friendly, ‘Child Care and Canadian Federalism in the 1990s: Canary in a Coal Mine’ (2000); Jane Jenson, ‘Family Policy, Child Care and Social Solidarity: The Case of Quebec’ (2001), 39–62; Jocelyne Tougas, Childcare in Quebec: Where There’s a Will, There’s a Way (2001).

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Conclusion The case of Quebec strongly substantiates our claims about the relationship between nationalism and social policy. First, both the Quebec and the federal governments have used social policy to foster and promote competing visions of citizenship and solidarity. Quebec governments, in particular, have been vigorously using social policy to foster national solidarity and build up national identity ever since the Quiet Revolution. Second, in the context of Canadian federalism, social programmes have become a major target of nationalist mobilization in Quebec. The connection between the Québécois identity and preferences for progressive social policy emerged clearly in the 1960s and 1970s as nationalism became focused on the socio-economic advancement of Francophones through state intervention. By the late 1990s, specific social policies were said to exemplify the distinctiveness of Quebec, a society deemed more progressive, egalitarian, and compassionate than the rest of Canada. These notions of distinctiveness then shaped patterns of nationalist mobilization geared towards the decentralization of social policy and, in the case of the PQ, arguments for independence on the grounds of fundamental differences about the nature of society and the role of the state as represented in social policy arrangements. Third, the focus of the Québécois nationalism movement is not simply the product of economic self-interests. More specifically, the Quebec case shows that nationalist claims for the decentralization of social programmes can occur even when it does not seem to make financial sense. Indeed, Québécois nationalism struggles for decentralization in this area, to the point of independence in the case of the PQ, even if the province is not a net contributor to the federal welfare state. Again we note that unemployment rates in Quebec tend to remain slightly higher than the Canadian average. 136 Furthermore, as also mentioned previously, Quebec has long been a net receiver of funds from the federal equalization programme developed in order to redistribute fiscal resources to poorer provinces. This suggests that the quest for social policy decentralization is not always initiated by wealthy regions fighting against interregional transfers, as exemplified by the case of Flemish nationalism in Belgium (see Chapter 4). The case of Québécois nationalism also questions 136 In 2003, for example, the official unemployment rate in Quebec was more than one percentage point higher than the Canadian average (more than 9% in Quebec versus less than 8% in the rest of Canada): Statistics Canada, The Canadian Labour Market at a Glance, 2004. Chart C-12.

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the usefulness of a purely rationalist and materialist approach to the relationship between nationalism and social policy. In other words, the mobilization of Québécois nationalism around social policy is not fundamentally about financial gain, though when Quebec parties seek to decentralize a social policy, they also seek matching funds. When it comes to the PQ making its case for independence, the thrust of the argument (along with language) is about making the political, institutional, and social policy boundaries congruent. In this context, the PQ typically invokes financial considerations from a defensive point of view, which is to say that Quebec’s situation would not worsen should it no longer be part of Canada. In sum, economic factors, understood as the relative level of wealth between Quebec and the rest of Canada, are less important than one might think when explaining current patterns of nationalist mobilization around social policy. Yet if Quebec were to become a net financial contributor in Canada, the argument for independence on the basis of distinctive social priorities would likely gain additional supporters, as a major deterrent (the idea that an independent Quebec would have less wealth and therefore be less able to support extensive social programmes) would be at least partially removed. Meanwhile, as evidenced above, references to the fairness of fiscal federalism and the so-called fiscal imbalance have become an effective mobilization strategy for the Québécois nationalist movement, which could claim credit for the recent decision of the federal Harper Conservative government to change the equalization rules in favour of Quebec. Fourth, Québécois nationalism has formulated claims about the existence of a national and territorial unit of solidarity according to which Quebeckers have an obligation to each other’s welfare. Today, the Parti québécois remains committed to promoting social solidarity within the province, stating that ‘[s]olidarity and sharing are a key component of Quebec society’s values’. 137 This discourse on social solidarity, which is underpinned by concrete social programmes, is a major component of Québécois nationalism. Such claims about the Québécois identity legitimize the quest for further policy decentralization and the related creation of social programmes unique to the province. Fifth, Québécois nationalism has impacted the policy agenda at both the state and the sub-state level while putting forward framing strategies that shape social policy debates in Quebec and elsewhere in Canada. 137 Our translation from the original French: ‘La solidarité et le partage font partie intégrante des valeurs de la société québécoise.’ Parti québécois. Parti québécois, ‘Solidarité,’ Parti québécois website, 2007.

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Regarding agenda-setting processes, the impact of Québécois nationalism is particularly striking in child care and in fiscal policy. An interesting example of this agenda-setting effect is the spreading of the concept of ‘fiscal imbalance’, which nationalist leaders helped popularize within and outside their province. As for framing processes, the most prominent one is probably the idea that the Québécois are more egalitarian and solidaristic than the rest of the Canadian population. This idea refers to the alleged existence of a major ‘value gap’ in Canada, as Quebec’s nationalist politicians and interest groups (made up of trade unions and other left-leaning organizations tightly embedded in the ‘Quebec government’) maintain that two societies with different values exist in one country. When the Jean Charest PLQ government sought social policy reform that could be interpreted as attempts to minimize these differences, protest mobilization was galvanized by a sense that they would undermine Quebec’s distinctiveness. Sixth, regarding the consequences of sub-state nationalism for social policy development, there is no evidence that, since the 1960s, the mobilization of Québécois nationalism in the field of social policy has favoured an erosion of social policy at the state or sub-state level. In the province of Québec, policy autonomy has often favoured the enactment of more generous social policies that are considered as a positive model to emulate by left-leaning activists and politicians in other provinces and at the federal level. The example of child care politics provides ground to this claim. Overall, Quebec social programmes are typically seen as more comprehensive and innovative than that of other provinces. This reality challenges the idea that policy decentralization necessarily favours a ‘race to the bottom’. A key mediating factor for understanding the nationalism–social policy nexus in Quebec is political ideology. The Quiet Revolution marked the beginning of a new political era characterized by state interventionism and the struggle for the economic ‘emancipation’ of Francophones. As such, it also opened the way for left-leaning political positions on redistribution that are more conducive to social policy preferences permeating national identity than are conservative and neo-liberal frameworks. Nationalist movements that seek to develop extensive social programmes (as articulated in Quebec and Scotland) are more likely than those explicitly favouring systematic neo-liberal retrenchment to articulate identity in reference to social programmes, simply because left-wing thinking often leads to social policy expansion in the name of territorial distinctiveness. For example, in the case of Quebec, the presence of extensive child care 90


and drug insurance programmes provides material for political leaders to stress the province’s distinctiveness, not only in terms of policy legacies but also in reference to the values and priorities said to underpin such policies. These programmes can also help nationalist leaders gain more support from the province’s labour movement. Of course, reference to the particular ideological bent of a society tends to obfuscate internal differences. From this perspective, repeated claims on the part of PQ leaders that an ideological consensus exists in Quebec are exaggerated. Yet we have shown how the boundaries of political discourse and action in the province are constrained by the close link between progressive politics and national identity. In other words, straying from the discourse, and to a lesser extent the practice, 138 of progressive politics raises the issue of the cohesion and integrity of the Quebec nation. The strength of the nationalism–social policy connection as conditioned by political ideology is fostered by the embeddedness of the Quebec government in a dense network of labour and civil society organizations that are both nationalist and left-wing. These corporatist patterns of state–society relations mean that social policy reform almost unavoidably triggers mobilization involving issues of national identity and distinctiveness. In addition to such ideological constructions, political institutions are a key mediating factor in the relationship between social policy and nationalism in Quebec. Until the ADQ’s push in 2007, what was striking in the Quebec case was the great convergence in the discourse of the PQ and PLQ. These two parties, sometimes seen to be different ideological animals within the narrow confines of Quebec politics, presented basic platforms that were very similar with respect to social policy; the province’s social programmes were to be cherished as they represent Quebec’s distinctiveness. 139 This broad agreement between the two ‘traditional’ parties was significant because it rendered more credible the notion that Quebec society had well-established and distinctive social policy preferences. The strength of the ADQ, if it proves to be something more than a temporary phenomenon, could steer nationalism in Quebec away from its association with progressive social policy, providing that the surging party holds on to its right-of-centre fiscal positions. The ADQ’s strong performance in the 2007 elections has already meant the province’s first minority 138 The elimination of the deficit by the PQ during the late 1990s suggests that nationalist politicians can get away with retrenchment measures if they keep up a progressive discourse. 139 One could even add the ADQ (often viewed as neo-liberal) as it stands by existing programmes such as affordable child care and drug insurance.

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government since the late nineteenth century and the shaping of a new party system where three parties effectively compete for political power. The end, at least in the short term, of the PLQ/PQ hegemony in Quebec politics and the greater possibility of minority governments at every election also means that clear executive statements about social policy and national identity may prove less likely. The phenomenon whereby the Québécois identity became so strongly tied up with progressive social policy was made possible by Canada’s federal structures. The province’s constitutionally protected, albeit not exclusive, powers in the field of social policy offered the ability to craft and implement social programmes that would not necessarily exist, or would at least be somewhat different, in the rest of Canada. The decentralized structure of social policy arrangements allowed distinct social policies in Quebec and provided grounds to claim that a fundamental difference exists between Quebec and the rest of Canada. It also meant that both the federal and Quebec governments possessed useful nation-building tools because, as this book argues, social programmes represent a tangible manifestation of political authority in the everyday life of citizens. In this context, social policy became a prime target for the competition between the two levels of government that has characterized Canadian federalism since the 1960s. At the same time, federalism has also been at the receiving end of the relationship between sub-state nationalism and social policy in so far as much of its asymmetry in the territorial implementation of social policy stemmed from decentralist and nationalist pressures emanating from Quebec. Somewhat ironically, the agenda-setting potential of nationalism in Quebec may serve to erase some of these asymmetries as the province’s more generous social programmes in key areas like child care put pressure on Canada’s other governments to replicate them. 140 Despite the election in early 2006 of a Conservative federal government led by Stephen Harper and the success of the ADQ at the 2007 Quebec elections, it is unlikely that the connection between nationalism and social policy will disappear in Canada. At the federal level, Stephen Harper’s Conservative party proposed a different approach to national unity, focused on the respect of provincial jurisdiction rather than on federal intervention in various policy fields considered off limits 140 A recent quantitative analysis widely diffused in English-speaking Canada confirms the fact that Quebec’s social policies are significantly more generous on average than those of the other Canadian provinces: Paul Bernard and Sébastien Saint-Arnaud, ‘More of the Same? The Position of the Four Largest Canadian Provinces in the World of Welfare Regimes,’ November 2004.

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by Quebec and some other provinces. Still, in the long term, the federal government is unlikely to stop using social spending for the purpose of nation-building for fear of becoming irrelevant in the lives of Canadians, especially Quebeckers. For the federal Liberals, this would represent a path towards fragmentation given their belief that the visibility of the federal government is crucial to sustaining a bond with Quebeckers. In Quebec, the connection between progressive social policy and territorial/national identity is deeply engrained in civil society, which limits what governments can do without fearing serious social mobilization and electoral punishment. For example, in explaining the problems faced by Liberal Premier Charest as he considered various reforms, one commentator argued that he had to cope with ‘the vocal and powerful coalition of Parti québécois activists, union leaders, left-leaning academics, media stars, and community organizers who are relentlessly describing him as a man bent on destroying the statist Quebec model and delivering the province to the evil forces of capitalism’. 141 The belief that Quebeckers are more progressive than other Canadians seems to benefit the PQ first and foremost because the secessionist party has typically been viewed as the main protector of the Québécois identity. However, many of the unions and other civil society organizations upon which the PQ could traditionally count may be tired of an approach focused on providing incentives for business investment that does not seem to remedy poverty and social exclusion. 142 Cracks in this alliance, if they really materialize, may serve to fundamentally transform Quebec politics in the future, although the various progressive organizations of Quebec’s civil society remain a potent force, and they can be expected to struggle against the ADQ if it ever forms a government and attempts to radically alter the Quebec model. 141

Lysiane Gagnon, ‘Desperate times, desperate measures,’ Globe & Mail, 21 February 2005,

A13. 142 Peter Graefe, ‘The Contradictory Political Economy of Minority Nationalism,’ Theory and Society, 34 (2005), 540–1.

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3 The United Kingdom: Nationalism, Devolution, and Social Policy

During the post-war era, the modern welfare state and the idea of social citizenship associated with it became a central aspect of the British national identity. 1 In this context, the creation of new social programmes granting universal benefits to Britons during the post-war era established a relationship between social policy and British identity. From the perspective of identity formation, the National Health Service (NHS) became the most popular social policy in the United Kingdom. Although the Scottish Office administrated the NHS in Scotland, universal health coverage developed during the post-war era into a source of national unity in Britain, as it did in Canada. Contrary to the situation prevailing in Canada, however, the central parliament enacted most of the post-war social programmes, an outcome stemming from the British doctrine of absolute parliamentary sovereignty. Even if administrative decentralization characterized programmes like the NHS, social legislation adopted in Westminster facilitated the symbolic integration of the various populations of the British ‘union-state’. 2 Scotland, which had higher per capita social expenditures on average than England, greatly benefited 1 A reason why the welfare state acquired great importance in fostering not only social but also national solidarity in the United Kingdom after the Second World War might be that the Empire, which had long-represented British power and prestige, faced irremediable decline. 2 According to Stein Rokkan and Derek Urwin, the concept of ‘union state’ entails ‘the survival in some areas of pre-union rights and institutional infrastructures, which preserve some degree of regional autonomy and serve as agencies of indigenous elite recruitment’. The Politics of Territorial Identity: Studies in European Regionalism (1982), 11; and Economy, Territory and Identity. Politics of West European Peripheries (1983). For a discussion of this concept in the United Kingdom context see Michael Keating, The New Regionalism in Western Europe. Territorial Restructuring and Political Change (1998), 3; and James Mitchell, ‘The Evolution of Devolution: Labour’s Home Rule Strategy in Opposition,’ Government and Opposition 33 (4) (1998): 479–96.

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The UK: Nationalism, Devolution, and Social Policy

from these popular programmes, especially its large working class. Starting in 1979, Thatcherism and the related politics of social policy retrenchment weakened the foundation of this implicit ‘social contract’ and simultaneously presented a strong challenge to Scotland’s societal and administrative autonomy. The Conservative Party was unable to secure a majority of seats in Scotland during the 1980s and 1990s, and Thatcherite social policy cutbacks and privatizations became a symbol of the region’s political heteronomy. It is during the Thatcher era that the connection between Scottish national identity and social policy became truly explicit. Almost four decades later than was the case in Canada, claims of substate nationalism meshed with the politics of social policy. Just as social policy issues have long been central to Québécois nationalism’s defence of provincial autonomy, the struggle for social justice and redistribution became a major aspect of Scotland’s quest for devolution during the 1980s and 1990s. In both Quebec and Scotland, the idea of a society whose progressive and egalitarian values clash with the values of the rest of the country permeates the political discourse and serves as an argument for independence or, at least, greater political autonomy. In the case of Scotland, however, social policy probably became an even greater tool of identity construction and political persuasion than in Quebec, partially because of the absence of ‘hard’ distinctive cultural markers such as language. Finally, the establishment of a Scottish Parliament in 1999 has meant a measure of divergence on social policy that stands somewhere between the extensive differentiation observed with respect to Quebec in Canadian federalism and the reproduction of the countrywide social insurance system in Belgium’s otherwise fragmented political system. 3 Nationalism is not an easy process to ascertain in the Scottish context because it is a more specific manifestation of the broader phenomenon of Scottish national identity, or Scottish nationhood. Nationalism involves a dimension of territorial mobilization for political, institutional, and/or constitutional change. From this perspective, David McCrone could argue that, in the context of the 1980s and 1990s movement for devolution, which was so broadly based amongst Scotland’s political class, all Scottish politicians were nationalist. 4 Yet, before that, territorial mobilization in 3 Although income-maintenance programmes constitute a ‘reserved matter’ in the United Kingdom, Scotland controls the public health insurance system, which is not the case for Flanders in Belgium (Chapter 4). From this perspective, Scotland has more institutional autonomy than Flanders in the field of social policy. This is especially true because health care is such a prominent policy area in the modern welfare state and because, in the United Kingdom, the NHS has long been a symbol of national identity. 4 David McCrone, Understanding Scotland: The Sociology of a Nation (2001), 126.

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Scotland was absent, or at least fairly weak, for most of the Union period. 5 However, even when there was no active territorial mobilization for home rule in Scotland, the reality of Scottish nationhood still affected, and was affected by, British social policy. This does not mean that Scotland has historically been more socially united than England. Indeed, Scotland has always featured major class and ideological divisions, but nationhood, supported and bolstered by administrative decentralization, represented a broad unifying force. This chapter looks at Scotland in the United Kingdom to explore our claims about the relationship between nationalism and social policy. It explains how the relationship between British nation-building and social policy emerged during the post-war era and outlines the particular importance of this process in Scotland, which depended more upon social benefits than did the South of England. 6 We then explore the mobilization process favouring devolution for Scotland in the context of social policy retrenchment, and show how these two issues meshed during Thatcherism. From this perspective, we also discuss the argument put forth, primarily by the Scottish National Party (SNP), in favour of Scottish independence. Finally, we analyse the impact of devolution on social policy development in Scotland and in the United Kingdom at large. Although it is too early to draw definite conclusions about the nature and extent of this impact, it is clear that the institutional and political transformations involved in devolution have affected both policy processes and outcomes. Overall, Scottish distinctiveness in social policy, both pre- and post devolution, is hardly radical, but all the differences point in a similar direction and their symbolic and political weight has cumulated over time. This chapter is divided into six sections. It opens with a discussion of Scotland’s historical position within the British state that serves to explain the historical crystallization of the Scottish national identity. The second section shows how the Beveridge report of 1942 set the stage for the postwar Labour reforms. Here, we underline the nation-building power of the modern welfare state and its impact on Scotland despite the existence of 5 By comparison, the Flemish Movement has been involved in near-constant territorial mobilization since the nineteenth century and virtually all Flemish parties can be considered nationalist. In Quebec, there has also been a steady process of mobilization since the 1960s Quiet Revolution and all provincial political parties are nationalist. 6 When discussing the Scottish economy within the United Kingdom, it is overly simplistic to contrast a poor Scotland with a wealthy England since the north of England has a similar socio-economic profile to Scotland. However, Scotland is relatively poorer than the south of England.

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administrative decentralization. The third segment discusses the development of Scottish nationalism and of the SNP, while the fourth analyses the nature of Thatcherism in the social policy realm and how it shaped the processes of Scottish identity-building and nationalist mobilization. These processes are discussed by focusing specifically on the drive towards home rule and the development of new arguments for independence. As was the case in Quebec and Flanders, social policy became a major focus of nationalist mobilization in Scotland during the 1980s and 1990s. This section shows that, similar to the situation in Quebec but different from that of Flanders, nationalism in Scotland was framed as a social democratic, progressive force that opposed neo-liberalism and therefore sought the opportunity to create distinctive social policies. The fifth section analyses the nationalism–social policy nexus in the context of the new Scottish party system, while the final section offers an analysis of the impact of devolution on social policy development in Scotland and, to a lesser extent, in the United Kingdom at large. The main argument formulated here is that, despite limited fiscal and institutional autonomy, Scotland has developed several distinct social policies since 1999. This is especially apparent in the field of health care reform, which carries so much symbolic and political weight in the United Kingdom. Finally, the last section stresses the emerging agenda-setting role of Scotland within the broader context of social policy development in the United Kingdom.

Scotland and the British State The construction of the British state is the story of the political union of various territories and populations with England: Wales in 1536; Scotland in 1707; and Ireland in 1801. The political union of England and Scotland corresponded to the creation of Great Britain. Formally, the Act (or Treaty) of Union involved the abolishment of the English and Scottish parliaments, which were replaced by the British Parliament. For England, the union concerned political expansion and strategic considerations. For Scottish parliamentarians who decided in favour of the union, economic imperatives were the focus, as crop failures, famine, and a disastrous colonial initiative (the Darien venture) left the country struggling in the 1690s. 7 These sets of practical considerations behind the union have 7 Christopher Harvie, Scotland & Nationalism: Scottish Society and Politics 1707 to the Present (1998), 11.

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led some Scottish writers to portray it as a ‘marriage of convenience’. 8 Others have argued that the union with England was actually illegitimate because the decision to accept it was made in Scotland, against the will of the people, 9 by a small group who might have been promised personal financial rewards. Perhaps more significantly for contemporary politics, a significant Scottish perspective on the union features the notion of a treaty (rather than an act) between self-standing nations. The notion that Scottish nationhood pre-dated the union with England represents the dominant strand of Scottish historiography. From this perspective, the 1320 Declaration of Arbroath, presumably written by Bernard de Linton, Abbott of Arbroath, is interpreted as evidence that Scottish nobles saw in Scotland the type of political entity (a ‘community of realm’) that was called a nation in the modern period. 10 The declaration, signed by a group of earls and barons, put forth a Scottish position on the conflicts with England and asked Pope John XXII to intervene. It can also be seen as making an early claim to popular sovereignty as it stated that the King could be removed if he betrayed the people. The subject of the declaration, the rivalry and repeated clashes with England, is another dynamic said to have contributed to the development of early Scottish nationhood. At a minimum, the conflictual relationship served to bolster a distinct national identity a posteriori, as each of the key Scottish historical icons struggled with the English Crown in one way or another: William Wallace, who frustrated English claims to control Scotland; Robert the Bruce, who defeated the armies of Edward II at Bannockburn in 1314; and Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots, imprisoned and beheaded by Queen Elizabeth. Finally, Scottish scholars often emphasize the Church of Scotland (or Kirk) as a potent force for unity in the preunion period. 11 The Kirk was the product of a reformation process that involved a break with Rome and the formulation of a Calvinist doctrine along Presbyterian lines. The Scottish Parliament formally recognized this transition in 1560, and the 1688 Glorious Revolution meant the protection of ‘Calvinism in one country’. 12 Other writers have challenged the idea of a pre-1707 Scottish nationhood by emphasizing the conflicts and divisions within Scotland. Neil Davidson, for example, suggests that two distinct societies existed in 8

See, for example, McCrone, Understanding Scotland: The Sociology of a Nation, 59. For a discussion of the historiography around this event, see Michael Keating, Plurinational Democracy. Stateless Nations in a Post Sovereignty Era (2001), 37. 10 Geoffrey Barrow, Robert Bruce and the Community of the Realm of Scotland (1988). 11 12 Harvie, Scotland & Nationalism, 12. Ibid. 9

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Scotland before the eighteenth century, the Highlands and the Lowlands, 13 a separation that was the result of a series of reinforcing (as opposed to cross-cutting) cleavages. On the one hand, the Highlands represented the ‘wild’ part of Scotland, one with a clan-based societal structure and where Scottish laws were applied unevenly, at best. Catholicism remained strong, as the reformation failed to make significant inroads in this territory. Finally, in the Highlands, Gaelic was the dominant language. On the other hand, inhabitants of the Lowlands considered themselves more civilized and lawful. By and large, they were Calvinists who communicated in English. Davidson also cast doubts on the elements often argued to have been sources of cohesion for Scotland before the union: Scottish law (and the Scottish Parliament) did not have universal reach in so far as it was primarily concerned with feudal relationships, and the absolutist monarchy’s following was weak. 14 Setting aside the existence or absence of a Scottish nation before the eighteenth century for a moment, the union with England allowed Scotland to preserve, even foster, a sense of distinctiveness. This is a somewhat counter-intuitive outcome, because the Scottish Parliament was abolished in 1707, and British legal theorists such as A. V. Dicey later promoted the doctrine of parliamentary sovereignty, which meant that the British Parliament (where Scottish representatives were only a minority) reigned supreme. Great Britain, therefore, did not divide sovereignty as modern federal systems do. However, it would be misguided to assume that because Great Britain was not created as a federation, it assumed the prototypical, unitary centralist model of cultural and societal assimilation. The British state never attempted to engineer the type of aggressive ‘integration’ sought and achieved by the French State. As such, the United Kingdom (as it was called after the inclusion of Ireland) is better conceived of as a union-state, that is, a state whose modes of territorial governance somewhat resembles the empire in so far as component territories and populations are allowed to maintain their distinct laws, customs, and culture. The British state incorporated component units over time and tolerated the notion that they could retain or develop, as well as express, nationhood. Moreover, it structured differently its relationship with these various units. Wales was always closely integrated with England, while Ireland took a semi-colonial position. In the case of Scotland, considerable societal autonomy afforded after the union explains the continued existence of a Scottish national identity 13

Neil Davidson, The Origins of Scottish Nationhood (2000), 62–72.

14

Ibid., 54–61.

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through the eighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth centuries, and the absence until the latter half of the twentieth century of a strong Scottish nationalist movement seeking independence. Scotland’s post-union autonomy rested upon three pillars: Scots law, the Kirk (the Church of Scotland), and the education system. Scots (or Scottish) law, which the union allowed Scotland to preserve, was a legal system that included elements of civil law and therefore differed from English Common Law. Courts have sometimes suggested that Scotland’s distinct legal system involved a particular constitutional law tradition that did not feature the principle of absolute parliamentary sovereignty found in England. 15 In the 1953 McCormick v Lord Advocate case, a Scottish court suggested that within the distinct Scottish constitutional law, the Union was ‘superior law and not changeable by the Parliament of the United Kingdom’. 16 On a more day-to-day basis, respect of Scots law by the British State meant that the Westminster Parliament passed parallel legislation for Scotland. 17 Scotland’s religious organization had more tangible effects on its national identity. The Kirk was emblematic of the country, especially because negotiations over the Union involved securing its independence. It provided rules of social and moral conduct for all Scots and served as a link between the cities and the countryside. Its general assembly acted as a deliberative forum for the affairs of the day and a force against undue interference from London. 18 Until the mid nineteenth century, the Kirk also assumed considerable responsibility for education and welfare. 19 The creation of national education systems in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century is widely recognized as an instrumental factor in the process of European nation-building. 20 In the United Kingdom, the Union’s framework allowed for the establishment in 1872–3 of a Scottish elementary school system, run by the Scotch Education Department (SED), to replace the previous Church-centred system of parish schools. As elsewhere in Europe, the education system in Scotland served as an institutional supporter and promoter of national identity, especially through a 15 See Stephen Tierney, ‘The Constitutional Accommodation of National Minorities in the UK and Canada: Judicial Approaches to Diversity’ (2003), 192–3. 16 Keating, Plurinational Democracy, 37. 17 Michael Keating, Nations against the State. The New Politics of Nationalism in Quebec, Catalonia and Scotland (1996), 166. 18 Lindsay Paterson, The Autonomy of Modern Scotland (1994), 38. 19 Keating, Nations against the State, 166 20 Eugen Weber, Peasants into Frenchmen. The Modernization of Rural France, 1870–1914 (1976).

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history curriculum that offered a clear Scottish (as opposed to British) perspective. 21 The school system was instrumental in popularizing national symbols like medieval hero William Wallace, offering narratives on the Union and other events considered central to the evolution of Scotland and propagating particular conceptions and images of Scots. From this perspective, a particularly powerful reference is the so-called Scottish myth, which refers to a belief that Scottish society is fundamentally egalitarian (or at least, more so than England). 22 Somewhat paradoxically, the Scottish myth of egalitarianism is rooted in a hierarchical, Old Regime social structure where the idea of organic community was emphasized. In the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, it became associated with a liberal (rather than a socialist) vision, in so far as it rested on the notion that Scotland had always offered an equality of opportunity, especially when it came to access to education for diligent young lads of working- and middle-class backgrounds as well as from rural areas. The self-perception of Scots as egalitarian reached well into the late twentieth century. It represents an early element of the connection between Scottish nationalism and social policy that emerged during the Thatcher years and was expressed during the campaign for home rule in the 1980s and 1990s. It was also the Thatcherite challenge to Scotland’s historical autonomy that effectively linked Scottish nationalism with specific positions on social policy. Scotland’s autonomy after the Union went beyond the persistence of a distinct legal, religious, and educational system. 23 As was previously indicated, the United Kingdom in the nineteenth century was very different from France, where the guiding principle was to run everything from the political centre. In the context of the United Kingdom, Scotland enjoyed administrative autonomy. ‘The history of the extension of administrative home rule to Scotland is relatively clear, although the motives for each major step varied, with a mix of efficiency, the desire to starve of (sic) nationalist pressure and fairly basic vote-winning calculations being present in varying amounts.’ 24 In Scotland, there existed a structure of supervisory boards, ‘local and national committees of lawyers, other professionals, and aristocrats who were put in charge of administrating all the subsequent social legislation that parliament produced in the nineteenth 21

David McCrone, The Sociology of Nationalism (1998), 47. On the Scottish myth, see McCrone, Understanding Scotland, 93–100. 23 While we believe Scottish societal autonomy after 1707 to have been real and meaningful, we are not marginalizing the integrative effect of the Union. 24 Iain G. C. Hutchison, ‘Legislative and Executive Autonomy in Modern Scotland’ (2000), 133–42. 22

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century’. 25 These governing bodies, among other things, managed prisons; registered births, marriages, and deaths; administered agriculture; and developed the Highlands. 26 From 1845 on, a Board of Supervision oversaw the Poor Law in Scotland. 27 That year’s Poor Law reform in Scotland took a different shape than the 1834 Poor Law Amendment Act that applied to England and Wales (later extended to Ireland). In Scotland, the able-bodied could not receive poor relief but benefits could be paid to people living outside the poorhouse. Furthermore, the 1845 reform kept ‘relief organized at the parish level’. 28 Even more than in England, poor relief in nineteenth-century Scotland was embedded in the liberal tradition. Scotland . . . had been the birthplace of the formulation of the principles of laissezfaire and a minimal state presence. These concepts had been enthusiastically sustained through the nineteenth century, notably in Scotland’s fervent espousal of economic liberalism and free trade, and in a harsher application of social policy as embodied in the Poor Law. In Scotland the conditions for receipt of poor relief were less generous than in England, most notably in the denial of benefit to ablebodied unemployed men. 29

Far from the egalitarian image of today’s Scotland, nineteenth-century poor relief highlights the weight of the liberal tradition. Yet the administration of the Poor Law at that time exemplified the peculiar type of autonomy enjoyed by Scotland. According to Lindsay Paterson: ‘The board was left to itself by the United Kingdom state: it was very rarely mentioned in parliament. Indeed, there is no evidence that even the Cabinet took interest in the Scottish Poor Law at any time between 1845 and 1921.’ 30 In 1867, the Public Health Act empowered the board to promote public health. 31 In 1885, the Scottish Office was set up to formalize the administration of various policies in Scotland. This experiment in administrative decentralization featured a Secretary for Scotland (renamed Secretary of State in 1926) that gained access to Cabinet after the First World War. 32 In 1937, Scotland’s various boards were placed under the authority of the Scottish Office. 33 In addition to serving these administrative functions, the Scottish Office adapted Westminster legislation to the Scottish context and, through the Secretary of State for Scotland, lobbied the British government on Scotland’s behalf. This composition 25 28 29 30 32

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Paterson, The Autonomy of Modern Scotland, 51. Higginbotham, The Workhouse in Scotland (2005). Iain G. C. Hutchison, ‘Government’ (1996), 47. Paterson, The Autonomy of Modern Scotland, 51. 33 Ibid., 49. Ibid.

26

Ibid.

27

31

Hutchison, ‘Government,’ 47.

Ibid., 52.


meant that ‘separate administrative arrangements would not only persist but would apply to new or expanding areas of public policy’. 34 From a macro-historical perspective, this administrative autonomy enjoyed by Scotland through the nineteenth and twentieth centuries is instrumental for understanding the angry reaction of much of Scottish society towards the Thatcher government, whose own policies were viewed as infringing upon Scotland’s autonomous institutions. In other words, there is a history in Scotland of administrative autonomy that would affect the interconnection of Scottish nationalism with social policy in the late twentieth century. Despite the absence of a Scottish parliament, Scotland’s autonomy within the United Kingdom greatly contributed to the consolidation of a sense of nationhood. The ‘Holy Trinity’ of the Kirk, the law, and the education system became symbols around which the nation was built. 35 The Highland/Lowland cleavage lost much salience when, starting in 1745, the British state sought to suppress its culture and clan organization (with the approval of Lowlanders) in retaliation for its support of the deposed Stuart dynasty. 36 The use of Gaelic became confined to isolated areas in the Highlands and the islands. Yet, ironically, both Highland culture and the Gaelic language were eventually mobilized as symbols of Scotland as a whole. Finally, Catholics were fully integrated into the conceptualization of the nation, though some religious tensions remain. 37 This development of Scottish nationhood occurred at the same time as ‘Britishness’ was also becoming a reality in Scotland. This seems at first paradoxical, but it is completely congruent with the structuring and the philosophy of the British union-state. British identity is by design fuzzy, in so far as the United Kingdom was conceptualized as a community of nations. The British state was somehow akin to the societies of the Old Regime for its tolerance of diversity of territorial status and identity. 38 It did not, like the French state, find its legitimacy in popular nationalism, but rather in a loyalty to constitutional practices. 39 Yet various dimensions of the British state fostered in Scotland great attachment to the Union and to ‘Britishness’. First, Scotland may have enjoyed administrative autonomy in the Union, but legislative authority, 34

James Mitchell, Governing Scotland: The Invention of Administrative Devolution (2003), 208. Davidson, The Origins of Scottish Nationhood, 53. 36 Keating, Nations Against the State, 164. 37 See Irene Maver, ‘The Catholic Community,’ 269–84. 38 Neal Ascherson, Games with Shadows (1988), 148. 39 Arthur Aughey, Nationalism, Devolution and the Challenge to the United Kingdom State (2001), 27. 35

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following the principle of parliamentary sovereignty, remained in Westminster. Stated another way, the institutions insuring Scotland’s administrative autonomy were ultimately all the product of the British state. This meant, for example, that policies implemented in Scotland would never conflict with those originally designed in Whitehall. 40 From this perspective, despite the administrative autonomy of the Scottish Office, the claim of a pre-devolution Scottish political system seems an exaggeration. 41 Second, political parties operating in Scotland were all unionist. The Liberal Party, dominant in Scotland during the nineteenth century, was a strong defender of the existing status of Scotland within the Union, despite intermittent musings over Scottish home rule and the acceptance, in the late 1880s, of home rule for Ireland. 42 The Conservative Party, whose strength in Scotland was felt particularly between the First World War and the 1950s, portrayed itself during the nineteenth and first half of the twentieth century ‘as the party of the Empire, the party of the union, and as the patriotic party’, although typically in respect of the multinational nature of the country. 43 The Labour Party focused on working class solidarity, and its social democratic objectives fell squarely within a British framework, at least after the First World War when it began gaining substantial popularity in Scotland. 44 Finally, the British Empire represented for many Scots a source of great pride as well as political and economic opportunities. From this perspective, ‘Britishness’ was rendered attractive by the prestige of the Empire, and loyalty to the state was fostered by the opportunity to rule new lands and access new markets, factors that were particularly crucial for the Scottish bourgeoisie. 45 Moreover, the colonial ventures of the United Kingdom involved further confrontation with its historical nemesis, France. The wars with France, along with the religious clash they often involved, served to build up the British identity. 46

40 Arthur Midwinter, Michael Keating, and James Mitchell, Politics and Public Policy in Scotland (1991), 78. 41 This claim was most forcefully made by James G. Kellas, The Scottish Political System (1973). 42 Harvie, Scotland and Nationalism, 15–18. A splinter group left the Liberals over the government’s decision to accept home rule for Ireland to form the Liberal Unionist Party, which was eventually absorbed by the Conservative Party. 43 Aughey, Nationalism, Devolution and the Challenge to the United Kingdom State, 68. 44 On Scotland and the Labour Party, see Ian Donnachie, Christopher Harvie, and Ian S. Wood, Forward! Labour Politics in Scotland 1888–1988 (1989). 45 Alice Brown, David McCrone, and Lindsay Paterson (eds.), Politics and Society in Scotland (1996), 39. 46 Linda Colley, Britons: Forging the Nation, 1707–1837 (1992).

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As a result of the integrative effects of British political institutions, parties, and imperialism, there was no equivalent in Scotland to the late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century Basque, Catalan, and Flemish nationalism. The autonomist, and sometimes separatist, movements in Spain and Belgium were matched in the United Kingdom by similar claims from Ireland. Scotland did experience episodic claims for home rule, but overall it was much more wedded to the British state, a connection bolstered in the mid twentieth century by the expansion of the modern welfare state.

The Construction of the British Welfare State and National Identity After 1945 Similar to the Canadian model, the development of the welfare state in Britain became a focal point for national integration. Yet, in contrast to the situation prevalent in Canada’s federal system, the concentration of sovereignty in Westminster facilitated the advent of a more politically centralized welfare state in the United Kingdom. The construction of that welfare state began in the first decade of the twentieth century, under the auspices of Liberal Prime Minister David Lloyd George. Created as part of the 1911 National Insurance Act, contributory social insurance schemes covered only parts of the population against sickness and unemployment. 47 Enacted three years earlier, modest, non-contributory pensions supported the elderly poor. During the interwar period, several reforms favoured the incremental development of British social policy. For example, the 1925 Widows, Orphans and Old Age Contributory Pensions Act established an old-age insurance system that failed to cover all British workers, as those enrolled in more generous occupational schemes did not have to participate in the public system. Other measures enacted in the interwar period expanded the scope of public housing and unemployment benefits but fell short of granting universal social protection to all British citizens. Overall, pre-1945 British social policy remained fragmented, with employers and voluntary societies playing a significant welfare role. 48 47 G. C. Peden, British Economic and Social Policy: Lloyd to Margaret Thatcher (1991), 26. On the intellectual roots of these reforms, see Michael Freeden, The New Liberalism: An Ideology of Social Reform (1978). 48 Peden, British Economic and Social Policy.

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Only during the Second World War did the idea of universal coverage embedded in social citizenship emerge as the paradigmatic foundation of modern British social policy. Published in 1942, Sir William Beveridge’s first wartime report, ‘Social Insurance and Allied Services’, is widely perceived as the blueprint for the modern British welfare state. In his influential report, Lord Beveridge made a strong case for the Keynesian promotion of full employment and the reconstruction of the fragmented, pre-war social policy system into a universalist welfare state protecting all citizens against the five major social problems of the industrial era: idleness, ignorance, disease, squalor, and want. Although the report was described as a ‘morale boosting exercise for winning the war’, the truth is that most politicians and civil servants at the time believed that universal coverage and social citizenship constituted ‘an inconvenient luxury that could not be seriously considered until after the return to peace’. 49 Immediately following the war in Europe, the Labour Party’s decisive victory in the general election of July 1945 (393 Labour seats out of a possible 640) facilitated the enactment of a wave of comprehensive economic and social reforms. 50 In the economic realm, public ownership expanded dramatically through the nationalization of gas, electricity, railways, civil aviation, road transport, steel, coal mines, and the Bank of England. In the domain of social policy, the Labour government of Clement Attlee implemented three major pieces of legislation that became the backbone of the modern British welfare state: the 1946 National Insurance Act, the 1946 National Health Service Act, and the 1948 National Assistance Act, all of which came into effect on 7 June 1948. Although these legislations did not follow all of Beveridge’s original recommendations, the most crucial structural changes were enacted. ‘The old complex varieties of schemes and approved societies went and were replaced by a single National Insurance scheme with local offices run by a central ministry.’ 51 Such legislations created new social rights grounded in the idea of social citizenship. Starting in 1948, for example, the state financed the newly created National Health Service (NHS) mainly through general taxation, and all British citizens gained free, universal access to medical and hospital care. Yet, following the logic of the union-state, a separate Westminster legislation created the NHS Scotland, which fell under the administrative control of the Scottish Office. In part because 49 José Harris, ‘Some Aspects of Social Policy in Britain during the Second World War’ (1981), 247–62. 50 Michael Hill, The Welfare State in Britain: A Political History since 1945 (1993), 25. 51 Howard Glennerster, British Social Policy since 1945 (2000), 36.

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the central state created and financed the NHS Scotland, however, the advent of universal health coverage in Scotland favoured the extension of British social citizenship. This is why, more than fifty years after the creation of the NHS, Gordon Brown could state that ‘when people talk of the National Health Service, whether in Scotland, Wales or England people think of the British National Health Service: here national is unquestionably British’. 52 Furthermore, the massive development of public housing as well as the creation of universal cash benefits like the flat old-age pension reinforced the sense of national citizenship rooted in common social rights. 53 Although the United Kingdom remained a liberal welfare regime with relatively modest cash benefits, a prominent role for private pensions, and an enduring reliance on means-tested provisions for the poor, the Attlee reforms helped to create a sense of British social citizenship existing beyond regional and class divisions. This is especially true of the emphasis on flat benefits and universal, standardized coverage that contrasts with the institutional fragmentation of Bismarckian social insurance systems like Belgium’s. A politically centralized model, the British welfare state represented an exceptional tool of integration and nation-building at the state level despite the existence of administrative decentralization. One striking aspect of the three above-mentioned legislations is the systematic use of the term national in their title. This word choice is not accidental: the post-war welfare state was a powerful nation-building tool in the United Kingdom, albeit likely not by design. 54 First, to a certain extent, this welfare state replaced the empire as a perceived source of economic progress and as a powerful symbol of British identity. Regardless of significant administrative decentralization and territorial differences in policy areas like health care, the welfare state thus performed a unifying task across the United Kingdom. The fact that the British Empire faced strong decline after 1945 reinforced the political and symbolic transfer from the empire to the newly created universalist welfare state. From a Scottish perspective, the welfare state created powerful British institutions that impacted the everyday life of Scots. 55 This process reinforced existing 52 Gordon Brown, Speech to the Edinburgh City Chambers (1 December 1999), quoted in Gerry Mooney and Charlotte Williams, ‘Forging New “Ways of Life”? Social Policy and Nation Building in Devolved Scotland and Wales,’ Critical Social Policy 26 (2006): 608–29. 53 Glennerster, British Social Policy since 1945. See also Hill, The Welfare State in Britain; and Rodney Lowe, The Welfare State in Britain since 1945 (1993). 54 Nicola McEwen, ‘State Welfare Nationalism: The Territorial Impact of Welfare State Development in Scotland,’ Regional and Federal Studies 12 (2002): 66–90. 55 Lynn Bennie, Jack Brand, and James Mitchell, How Scotland Votes (1997).

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economic and political ties between the British state and the inhabitants of Scotland. This process is similar to the one that occurred in Quebec and Canada after 1940. Second, the focus on national, UK-wide social programmes and institutions after 1945 reflects the Labour Party’s attempt to reduce the level of class inequality in the United Kingdom. At the time, T.H. Marshall’s Citizenship and Social Classes provided an analytical framework that made sense of that struggle against class deprivation and exclusion, taking the form of basic social rights granted to all citizens. 56 A peaceful, moderate tool of class integration, the modern welfare state favoured the smooth incorporation of the Scottish working class to the British state. 57 This is particularly true because Scotland benefited more from the post-war welfare state than did southern England, if not all of England. The consistently higher unemployment rates obtaining in Scotland since World War II, along with the lower Scottish income per capita, has meant that the social security system has had proportionally more users in Scotland. These indicators of poorer living standards are mirrored by poorer health than in England and Wales, so Scots have used the National Health Service to a greater degree. . . . Identifiable public expenditure on Scotland has been at higher levels than in England or Wales. While the exact calculations are the subject of intense academic and political debate, it seems that the balance of opinion inclines to the view that Scotland has usually not been disadvantaged. 58

Overall, Scots (particularly working-class Scots) could identify with generous and popular British institutions embedded in shared social citizenship. Starting in the late 1950s, the Labour Party’s domination in Scotland reinforced the notion and strength of a British social citizenship there. 59 The integrative role of the post-war welfare state does not mean that Scotland had no administrative say in the implementation of crucial social legislations enacted in Westminster. Considering the nature of the British union-state and the traditionally limited involvement of the central state (Whitehall) in policy implementation, Scotland enjoyed administrative autonomy in a number of policy areas; this is what Daniel Wincott 56 T. H. Marshall, Citizenship and Social Class (1987 [1950]). According to Daniel Wincott, however, the work of T. H. Marshall is misunderstood because it treats England rather than Britain or the United Kingdom ‘as the relevant “nation” ’. Daniel Wincott, ‘Social Policy and Social Citizenship: Britain’s Welfare States,’ Publius: The Journal of Federalism 36, 1 (2006): 169–88. 57 58 McCrone, Understanding Scotland, 15. Hutchison, ‘Government,’ 47. 59 On the status of the Labour Party in Scotland during the post-war era, see Bob McLean, ‘Labour in Scotland since 1945: Myth and Reality’ (2004), 35–50.

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termed ‘territorial variability’. 60 Furthermore, although it conceded its existing responsibility over social assistance and old age pensions in the late 1940s, the Scottish Office successfully resisted Whitehall’s centralizing attempts in key policy areas like housing. 61 Though it was involved in the implementation of social programmes in the fields of health care, housing, and public education, 62 the Scottish Office had no legislative autonomy and acted primarily as a lobby within British central institutions, defending and promoting Scotland’s interests to the Cabinet and other departments. 63 For example, as mentioned above, despite the enactment in 1947 of a separate National Health Service Act for Scotland, the NHS in Scotland remained a Westminster creation financed by the British state. 64 As opposed to the provinces within the Canadian federation, Scotland enjoyed limited fiscal and institutional autonomy in the field of social policy, as elsewhere. Furthermore, there was no formal Scottish ‘veto point’ over legislation enacted in Westminster. In such an institutional context, the main raison d’être of the Scottish Office was to seek to influence Whitehall departments in defence of Scotland’s interests. 65

Scottish Nationalism, Home Rule, and the Scottish National Party The structure of the British union-state, combining tolerance for Scottish societal distinctiveness with the nation-building dynamic of the parliamentary system and the modern welfare state, did not favour the complete suppression of Scottish nationhood; nor did it prevent the emergence in the nineteenth century of a Scottish nationalist movement articulating autonomist claims. Pre-devolution Scottish nationalism in its broadest form promoted some kind of institutionalized political autonomy within the United Kingdom achieved through the (re)creation of a Scottish Parliament, or home rule. Claims for Scottish home rule developed within the radical wing of the Liberal Party, largely in the context of a strong Nationalist (Republican) movement in Ireland during the 1880s. Bills on Scottish 60

Wincott, ‘Social Policy and Social Citizenship: Britain’s Welfare States,’ 171. McEwen, ‘State Welfare Nationalism,’ 71. 62 For more details about the administrative duties of the post-war Scottish Office, see Ian Levitt, The Scottish Office: Depression and Reconstruction 1919–1959 (1992). 63 Michael Keating and Arthur Midwinter, The Government of Scotland (1983), 24. 64 McEwen, ‘State Welfare Nationalism,’ 71. 65 Brian Jones and Michael Keating, Labour and the British State (1985), 127. 61

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home rule were presented to parliament by Liberal MPs in the 1890s and by Labour MPs in the 1920s. 66 Home rule claims surfaced sporadically throughout the late nineteenth and early twentieth century: for example, a Scottish Home Rule Association was created in 1886. It lay dormant for several years only to be revived in 1918. 67 Scottish home rule was an issue popular in radical and progressive circles within both the Liberal and, until the 1950s, the Scottish Labour parties. 68 At this point, there was some connection between claims for home rule and leftleaning politics. ‘There was the belief in some Liberal circles that Scotland was a more radical country than England, and that Scottish preferences for welfare legislation were being held back by English conservatism.’ 69 Within the Scottish Labour Movement, there was the feeling that Scotland was ‘potentially socialist’. 70 The failure of the proponents of home rule to force institutional change was at the heart of the creation of an explicitly nationalist party, the National Party of Scotland (NPS) in 1928, as well as the establishment of the Scottish Party in 1932. In 1934, the pro-independence and generally left-leaning (though ideologically fragmented) NPS merged with the rightwing and home rule-seeking Scottish party to form the Scottish National Party (SNP). 71 As a result of these conditions of formation, the SNP was, except for the notion of independence, without a clear ideology, programme, or policy agenda for several decades. 72 Its influence also remained marginal through the 1930s, 1940s, and 1950s, years of international conflict and, subsequently, welfare expansion. The SNP elected its first MP in the 1945 by-election and its second in the 1967 by-election, but its real period of electoral success was the 1970s, when it attained 30 per cent of the vote and eleven MPs in 1974. 73 It is also in the 1970s that the SNP began to move away from its reluctance to position itself to the left of the ideological spectrum. 74 66 Richard J. Finlay, ‘Continuity and Change: Scottish Politics 1900–45,’ 70; Brown, McCrone, and Paterson (eds.), Politics and Society in Scotland, 17. 67 Keating, Nations against the State, 170. 68 Christopher Harvie and Peter Jones, The Road to Home Rule: Images of Scotland’s Cause (2000), 23–4. 69 Brown, McCrone, and Paterson (eds.), Politics and Society in Scotland, 16. 70 Ibid., 17. 71 72 Peter Lynch, SNP. The History of the Scottish National Party (2002), 38–9. Ibid., 47. 73 There were special circumstances to the 1945 by-elections. They were contested only by Labour and the SNP, as the Liberals and the Scottish Unionists (Conservative) did not field candidates. Moreover, the SNP candidate lost in the general election during the same year. On the 1945 by-election and the growth of the 1960s, see Lynch, SNP. The History of the Scottish National Party, 61, 123–60. 74 Ibid., 132–5.

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The return of home rule onto the political agenda in the 1970s was the combined result of the SNP breakthrough and the increasing importance Scotland held for the Labour Party over the previous twenty-five years or so. By 1945, the Labour Party had acquired a strong position in Scotland, whereas the Conservatives began to decline by the early 1960s. 75 The 1959 election, particularly, featured ‘a British-wide swing to the Conservatives while Scotland recorded a swing to Labour’. 76 In this context, Scotland became more integral to Labour’s strategic calculations. For example: ‘[L]abour’s narrow electoral victory in 1964 could not have been achieved without its disproportionately large share of Scottish seats, a fact of which the Labour leadership was acutely aware.’ 77 It was therefore tempting for Labour to play the ‘Scottish card’, although this did not immediately take place because the party was wedded to the principle of British economic solidarity. 78 Home rule was seriously considered when the SNP, whose nationalist discourse was buoyed by the discovery of oil in the North Sea, became a potential electoral threat. By 1974, Labour was paying a great deal of attention to Scotland. In that year’s October election, for example, it published, for the first time, a distinct Scottish Manifesto. 79 The Labour Party also formally committed to devolution, though many of its MPs were unenthusiastic, if not downright hostile, towards the idea. The SNP supported the home rule proposal, though it did not abandon independence as its ultimate objective. The creation of a Scottish Assembly lacking the power to levy taxes was put to a referendum vote in 1979. At this point, there was no strong, positive connection between home rule and progressive social policy; during the 1980s, the reaction to Thatcherism would establish this link much more clearly. In fact, for some Labour MPs (e.g. Neil Kinnock), devolution was intolerable precisely because it threatened to undermine ‘the ability of the state to deliver benefits to the working class’. 80 Still, arguments in favour of home rule emphasized its potential for reducing unemployment in Scotland. A Scottish Assembly, the argument went, would be in a better position than Westminster to restructure and improve Scotland’s economy. Based in part on this reasoning, the Scottish Trade Union Congress enthusiastically supported devolution. 81 In the end, the ‘yes’ side in the 1979 referendum fell short of gathering support from 40 per cent of the 75

McCrone, Understanding Scotland, 105–6. Bennie, Brand, and Mitchell, How Scotland Votes, 49. 77 Michael Keating and David Bleiman, Labour and Scottish Nationalism (1979), 154. 78 79 80 Ibid., 150–1. Ibid., 174. Harvie and Jones, The Road to Home Rule, 112. 81 See the Scottish Trade Union Congress excerpt of the 1974 annual report published in Lindsay Paterson, A Diverse Assembly. The Debate on a Scottish Parliament (1998), 79–82. 76

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total electorate, 82 and no Scottish Assembly was set up. Serious talks about devolution, however, paved the way for further discussions of Scotland’s political future, which were galvanized by Thatcherism.

Thatcher, the Politics of Retrenchment, and Scottish Nationalism The advent of Thatcherism represented a powerful regime change in British politics. As prime minister, Margaret Thatcher promoted a neoliberal conception of ‘Britishness’ to justify welfare state retrenchment and the privatization of public enterprises. Reconstructing this ‘Britishness’ as a capitalist identity rooted in self-reliance and personal responsibility, Thatcher elevated ‘popular capitalism’ and private property over social citizenship and public ownership. 83 Rather than pursue the reduction of social and economic cleavages, Thatcherism emerged as an attempt to unite wealthier citizens against the less privileged segments of British society. ‘Increasingly Tory populism is taking the form of unification of a privileged nation of “good citizens” and “hard workers” against a contained and subordinate nation which extends beyond the inner cities and their ethnic minorities to include much of the nonskilled working class outside the South-East.’ 84 This quotation stresses both the class and the territorial logics behind Thatcher’s attack against social citizenship and the modern British welfare state. To a certain extent, Thatcherism weakened the ideological connection between the welfare state and British national identity that emerged after 1945. Although the NHS remained a powerful symbol of British identity, Thatcherism somewhat successfully promoted a competing set of neo-liberal ‘national values’ that exist alongside, yet challenge, the idea of shared, British social citizenship. Before exploring the consequences for Scotland of the Thatcherite attacks against the welfare state, one must assess the concrete scope of the social policy reforms enacted under the successive Conservative governments of Margaret Thatcher (1979–90) and John Major (1990–7). Regarding social policy, perhaps the most crucial reform occurred in the 82 The referendum’s rules stipulated that devolution would occur only if more than 40% of the total electorate supported the idea of a Scottish Parliament. 83 Stuart Hall, ‘The Great Moving Right Show,’ (1983), 19–39. 84 Bob Jessop et al., Thatcherism: A Tale of Two Nations (1988), 87.

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field of public housing. When Margaret Thatcher’s Conservative Party came to power in 1979, the United Kingdom had the largest pool of public housing in Western Europe, the outcome of decades of direct state investment beginning before the Second World War. Following the war, both Labour and Conservative governments expanded the stock of public housing. 85 Considering this, the privatization of public housing constituted a key objective of the first Thatcher government. The centrepiece of housing restructuring became known as the ‘right to buy’ policy. Encapsulated in the Housing Act of 1980, this policy allowed tenants living in public housing facilities to purchase their property at a discount calculated according to the length of residence. 86 Overall, the ‘right to buy’ policy proved quite popular because it allowed ‘[g]roups of people who in the past might never have expected to own their own homes’ to do so. 87 Other reforms enacted under conservative rule proved far more controversial. From the privatization of public enterprises to the poll tax, neo-liberal health care reforms, and cutbacks in social services, a number of Conservative reforms faced much popular opposition. Because many existing social and economic policies had created strong constituencies and institutional legacies, Conservatives failed to ‘dismantle the welfare state’. 88 Yet, in addition to selling public housing to tenants, several reforms undermined the modern British welfare state and the idea of social citizenship. Pension reform illustrates that logic effectively. As in other policy areas, Conservatives successfully increased citizens’ reliance on private benefits and personal savings at the expense of state provisions. In 1980, a change in the indexation system of the flat pension gradually reduced the real value of benefits over time. Six years later, the Thatcher government implemented significant benefit cuts in the earnings-related public pension scheme enacted in the mid-1970s (SERPS). This reform encouraged more than five million workers to leave the state scheme in order to set up their own ‘personal pension’. 89 Although the Thatcher government failed to completely dismantle the public pension system, it 85 Paul Pierson, Dismantling the Welfare State? Reagan, Thatcher, and the Politics of Retrenchment (1994), 75–6. 86 Ray Forrest and Alan Murie, Selling the Welfare State: The Privatization of Public Housing (1988). 87 Paul Johnson and Sarah Tanner, ‘Ownership and the Distribution of Wealth,’ Political Quarterly 69, 4 (1998): 365–74. 88 Pierson, Dismantling the Welfare State? 89 Giuliano Bonoli, The Politics of Pension Reform: Institutions and Policy Change in Western Europe (2000), 80.

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did alter the balance between the public and the private sectors in favour of the latter. In part, because the NHS had become the most powerful symbol of the British welfare state, attempts were also made to reshape this large institution. First, the management of the NHS shifted in 1983 from a corporatist model of management centred on the medical professions to a business-like model of governance based on an idealized vision of corporate practices. Six years later, the neo-liberal campaign to transform the NHS reached a new level with the advent of the so-called internal market, a rather unsuccessful attempt to bring the apparent virtues of market competition into the public health care system. The concentration of legislative power within the British welfare state permitted such unilateral attempts to reshape the health care system. 90 This type of reform would have proven much harder to implement in Belgium’s fragmented social insurance system (Chapter 4), or even in the context of Canada’s federal system (Chapter 3). The measure that triggered the most opposition in Scotland was in fact not directly related to social policy. Widely contested, the infamous poll tax regressively transformed United Kingdom local taxation. 91 Replacing the rating system that determined local tax rates according to the rental value of houses, the poll tax imposed a flat rate with a reduction for lowincome individuals and families. The idea behind the poll tax was that, because all individuals use their share of local services, everyone should pay equally. In the long run, Conservatives believed that the poll tax would encourage individuals to embrace fiscal conservatism against highspending (read Labour) local councils. But the poll tax proved a major political mistake for the Conservatives as it infuriated many Britons. Protest waves and even riots illustrated the scope of the popular revolt against the poll tax. Yet opposition to the poll tax was strongest in Scotland, largely because the implementation of the tax began a year earlier there than in the rest of the United Kingdom. Although local Tories requested such early implementation, some Scots believed that Scotland served as a mere ‘guinea pig’ for Thatcherite, neo-liberal policies. More importantly, The introduction of the poll tax highlighted the inflexible nature of British government in Scotland. . . . The attack on local government was also particularly 90 Scott L. Greer, Territorial Politics and Health Policy: UK Health Policy in Comparative Perspective (2004), 34–44. 91 Only Northern Ireland did not implement that measure.

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The UK: Nationalism, Devolution, and Social Policy significant because, as nationalized industries and state-sponsored economic intervention declined, services provided by local authorities were in many ways (with the exception of the National Health Service) the last significant remnants of the corporatist Welfare State. 92

In Scotland, churches, trade unions, local officials, and opposition parties mobilized against the poll tax. It was major protests in London in 1990, however, that triggered Margaret Thatcher’s exit from politics and, two years later, the repudiation of the unpopular policy. 93 At the broadest level, the discourse and policies of the Thatcher and Major governments had the unintended consequence of widening the appeal of nationalist politics in Scotland by making home rule a more attractive option than ever for a substantial number of Scots. In this context, nationalism sprung from nationhood. Put another way, the broad-based movement towards home rule that developed in the 1980s and 1990s to deliver a Scottish Parliament in 1999 was largely a direct product of the Thatcher years. From a partisan perspective, Labour MPs Gordon Brown and Douglas Alexander described it in these terms: ‘The constitutional consequences of Mrs Thatcher . . . are that, in Scotland at least, another Mrs Thatcher can never represent the same threat. No second Mrs Thatcher could ever inflict such damage on Scottish civic life again.’ 94 The Conservative governments also provided a new logic to home rule represented by the idea that Scotland needed political autonomy to develop social programmes specifically tailored for Scottish society and coherent with perceived Scottish values and interests. In other words, the close connection between Scottish nationalism and progressive social policies was also related to the actions of the successive conservative governments of the 1980s and 1990s. At least four reasons explain the strong impact of the Conservative rule on Scottish politics and society. First, the Conservative Party never enjoyed in Scotland the type of support it garnered in England during the 1980s and 1990s. Yet Scots were unable to prevent the election of Conservative governments in Westminster. The differential of support for the Conservative Party in England and Scotland in each of the four elections it won between 1979 and 1992 ranged between fifteen and twenty-two percentage points. 95 This was the result of the political decline of the Conservative Party in Scotland since the 1960s. 92 93 94 95

Richard J. Finlay, Modern Scotland 1914–2000 (2004), 366. Ibid. Facing a revolt within her caucus, Margaret Thatcher resigned in November 1990. Gordon Brown and Douglas Alexander, New Scotland, New Britain (1999), 10. McCrone, Understanding Scotland, 108.

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Nationalism and Social Policy Most of the population and wealth of the United Kingdom were concentrated in England, which had become the stronghold of the Conservative Party. Scotland was another matter. The Conservative Party had not won a majority in Scotland since 1955; in the election of 1992, the Conservatives won only 25 percent of the Scottish vote. 96

The Labour Party was the dominant political force in Scottish politics during the 1980s and 1990s, which meant that Scotland was largely underrepresented within the government’s ranks. Considering the high level of power concentration in the Westminster parliamentary system, this meant that Scots elected a large number of Labour MPs who could hardly shape the reform agenda as members of the opposition. The political centralization inherent in Britain’s parliamentary institutions triggered a sense of collective alienation and powerlessness in Scotland. In such a context, as I. G. C. Hutchison puts it: Labour was able to present itself as the natural protector of ‘traditional’ Scottish values and institutions—in the sense that the party sought to defend the post-1945 Welfare State. ( . . . ) Labour was able to cast Thatcherism as an extreme ideology which had been imposed on a hostile Scottish electorate. 97

Second, the Thatcher government challenged the structure of the British union-state, which triggered a powerful nationalist and autonomist reaction. Thatcherism attempted to replace notions of social and territorial identity (e.g. Scots and Welsh) with a focus on economic individualism. In other words, Thatcher sought to redefine Britishness in a mainly individualist and neo-liberal fashion that potentially clashed with Scotland’s autonomy and sense of economic solidarity. In this context, her push for ‘popular capitalism’ as well as social policy privatization and retrenchment were frequently seen as attacks against Scotland, because they undermined the carriers of Scottish distinctiveness, autonomy, and identity. 98 Moreover, as Scott L. Greer argues, starting after the 1987 British election, centralizing conservative policies emerged as a major threat to the administrative and societal autonomy of Scotland, a situation that infuriated Scottish organizations ranging from professional groups and labour unions to churches and voluntary organizations. The willingness of these organizations to defend their autonomy and the autonomy of their Scotland within the British union-state considerably fuelled the 96 Earl A. Reitan, The Thatcher Revolution: Margaret Thatcher, John Major, Tony Blair, and the Transformation of Modern Britain, 1979–2001 (2003), 151. 97 Iain G. C. Hutchison, Scottish Politics in the Twentieth Century ( 2001), 148. 98 Ibid., 122.

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devolution movement. The result was the creation of ‘an overwhelming pro-devolution coalition within and outside Labour’. 99 Third, the Thatcherite approach to the state and to social policy never resonated in Scotland the way it did in the wealthier southern part of England, despite the recurrent conservative discourse depicting Scotland as the birthplace of individualism and market liberalism. 100 Instead, Scottish political and intellectual leaders reacted to Thatcher’s ideas by arguing that Scotland was a more collectivist, egalitarian, and decent society than was England. One such intellectual leader, Gerry Hassan, stated: By the late 1980s, Scottishness had become to me a kind of political resistance against Thatcherism. This was imbued with a moral superiority in relation to the English. They embraced Thatcherism; we rejected it. We opposed tax cuts, privatisation, council house sales; they embraced it. 101

Finally, Scottish frustration with Conservative governments was not simply a matter of powerlessness, identity, and ideological opposition. With the exception of a few measures like the ‘right to buy’ policy, Conservative reforms generally proved unpopular in Scotland. The privatization and retrenchment policies of the Thatcher and Major governments were especially painful in Scotland considering its higher unemployment and poverty rates when compared to southern England. Earl Reitan summarizes the dominant perception of the time: The policies of Thatcher had been devastating to Scotland, with its large public sector, unionized and overmanned industries, and extensive welfare dependency. Thatcher’s dismantling of nationalized industries, restrictions on local governments, and financial squeeze on the public services had left the industrial cities of Scotland prostrate. Unemployment in Scotland was 25 percent higher that in the United Kingdom as a whole. 102

Furthermore, the administrative mechanisms centred on the Scottish Office that were supposed to adapt Westminster legislation to the Scottish context were largely ineffective. At best, the Scottish Office managed to slow down the implementation of Thatcherite policies in the fields of health care and housing policy. 103 From that perspective, Thatcherism 99 Scott L. Greer, Nationalism and Self-Government: The Politics of Autonomy in Scotland and Catalonia (2007), 76. 100 She often seemed puzzled about this lack of enthusiasm in Scotland for her philosophy. See Margaret Thatcher, The Downing Street Years (1993), 618. 101 See Tom Devine and Paddy Logue, Being Scottish (2002), 95. 102 103 Reitan, The Thatcher Revolution, 151. McEwen, ‘State Welfare Nationalism,’ 76.

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triggered a sense of social injustice and institutional vulnerability that legitimized the crusade for devolution. It is in this context that the movement towards home rule re-emerged. This movement was fundamentally different from past iterations. Galvanized by Thatcherism, it was more broad-based and found its logic in the idea that Scotland needed political autonomy to be in a position to develop more progressive social policies than those enacted in Westminster. The Thatcher years, therefore, gave a new political twist to Scottish nationhood and redefined Scottish nationalism in part around the pursuit of distinct social policy goals. This emerging connection between nationalism and progressive social policies was clearly observable in two crucial political actors: Scottish Labour and the SNP. Scottish Labour, which always represented left of centre positions, developed a clear prodevolution stance in the name of the social and ideological distinctiveness of the Scottish nation. The SNP, which traditionally had autonomist or secessionist objectives, developed a social democratic profile. Until the 1980s, the SNP had remained ambiguous with respect to its ideological orientation for fear of alienating nationalist voters, though in practice, its programme and policy agenda had largely moved left of centre in the 1970s. 104 With the resentment towards the right building up through the 1980s, there was little risk in presenting the SNP as a social democratic party. 105 On the contrary, the connection between Scottish nationalism and social democratic positions was crystallized by the anti-Thatcherite drive towards home rule. After the referendum defeat of 1979, prominent supporters of home rule came together to keep the movement alive. They organized a Campaign for a Scottish Assembly (CSA) with visions of holding a constitutional convention. No such convention occurred, however, until the shock of the 1987 election, the so-called Doomsday Scenario that saw the Conservative Party reduced to ten of their seventy-two original seats in Scotland, down from twenty-one following the previous election. As the political gulf between Scotland and England was seemingly increasing, the CSA created a steering committee of fifteen prominent Scots drawn from the ranks of Labour, the Liberals, and the SNP as well as trade unions, churches, and voluntary organizations. 106 The revolt against the poll tax encouraged many civil society actors to join the push for devolution. For example, the Scottish Trades Union Congress (STUC) played an instrumental role in the 104 106

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Lynch, SNP: The History of the Scottish National Party, 175. Harvie and Jones, The Road to Home Rule, 148.

105

Ibid.


emerging Home Rule Movement. For the STUC, the push for devolution became a central aspect of the left-wing struggle against Thatcherism. Although the STUC never supported independence, intense social mobilization created strong ties between the Scottish labour and the nationalist movement. 107 The steering committee produced a report entitled ‘A Claim of Right for Scotland’ that promoted a Scottish Assembly in the name of democratic legitimacy. The report affirmed Scottish nationhood and specifically referred to the unpopularity of the poll tax in Scotland as an example of the problems generated by the ‘English’ constitution. 108 It also proposed a constitutional convention, an idea endorsed by Scottish Labour and the Scottish Liberal Democrats. The SNP declined to participate when the Labour Party rejected its proposal of a post-convention referendum on the options of status quo, independence, or implementation of the convention recommendations. The Conservative Party, which rejected devolution, also chose not to participate. The constitutional convention was nonetheless established with participants drawn from political parties, local authorities, trade unions, and various civil society organizations. It produced a document entitled ‘Scotland’s Parliament, Scotland’s Right’ that formally proposed the creation of a parliament for Scotland. In making the case for a Scottish parliament, the convention’s report stressed the need for Scotland to autonomously design public policy. After having discussed the potential benefits of a Scottish Parliament for developing a more adequate economic policy, the report states: [M]uch the same applies to the field of social welfare—a broad phrase, but the one that best describes the wide range of concerns which have so sharply distinguished the political will of Scotland in recent years. Scotland has consistently declared through the ballot box the wish for an approach to public policy which accords more closely with its collective and community traditions. The frustration which has arisen as that wish is disregarded should be a source of concern to all who hold democracy dear. 109

More concretely, ‘Scotland’s Parliament, Scotland’s Right’ asserts: The powers of the Scottish Parliament will enable it to develop the type of high quality public services to individuals which are the measure of a civilised community. It will be able to judge and reflect Scotland’s priorities with regard to 107 Interview with a top STUC official, Glasgow, 5 May 2005. On the STUC’s opposition to Thatcherism, see Keith Aitken, The Bairns O’ Adam: The Story of the STUC (1997), 260–310. 108 See excerpts of the document in Paterson, A Diverse Assembly, 160–8. 109 Scottish Constitutional Convention, Scotland’s Parliament: Scotland’s Right (1995), 7.

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Nationalism and Social Policy improving health or housing or community care or education. . . . It will be able to arrange the organisation, funding and policy of health provision to deliver the sort of health service Scotland wants. It will be able to decide the best ways of supporting family life, providing care for people with handicaps, illnesses or disabilities, the elderly, and for children in need. 110

The work of the convention became a blueprint for setting up a Scottish Parliament. After the victory of the Conservative Party (now led by John Major) despite another poor showing in Scotland (eleven seats), Labour firmly committed to devolution. The victory of ‘new’ Labour in 1997 came with, among other things, a programme to modernize the United Kingdom that included devolution. A referendum was planned for 1997, when Scots would be asked if they wanted the establishment of a Scottish Parliament with tax-raising power. The ‘yes-yes’ side functioned under a large umbrella organization, Scotland Forward, featuring all the key players of the convention in addition to the SNP, which was now taking the stand that devolution would set the stage for independence. Three main types of arguments were deployed by the ‘yes-yes’ campaign. The first, and most general, was that political decisions affecting Scotland would be made in Scotland by representatives of the Scottish people. The second was that formal political autonomy for Scotland would represent a chance to foster a ‘new politics’, that is, a more genuine democracy and political representation. Some proposed political features in this context were an electoral system with some measure of proportionality and commitments to strengthen women’s representation in parliament. The third was that a Scottish Parliament could enact social policies more in tune with the more solidaristic preferences of Scots on redistribution and the specific needs of Scotland. For example, devolution was argued to have the potential to improve Scotland’s poor health record. The Doctors for Devolution group suggested: Scottish health and health care have some remarkable and durable differences as compared with England. In spite of a social policy designed to redistribute resources within the United Kingdom according to need, the differences in health statistics remain obstinately at the 1948 levels. Not only that but Scotland has some of the greatest problems in health care in the industrialised world—notably in lung cancer and dental decay, and one of the highest rates of deaths from vascular disease in the world. 111 110

Ibid., 13–14. Doctors for Devolution, ‘Making the case for devolution of health care to Scotland,’ Campaign for a Scottish Parliament, Briefing note 17. 111

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The group also put forward the following opinion: ‘Doctors for Devolution believe that many of the changes produced by the Parliament will cause considerable alteration in the attitude and administration of the Health Service in Scotland. We judge that on balance these will be beneficial.’ 112 There is some evidence that the argument about developing more suitable social policy for Scotland resonated strongly with voters. For example, in a 1996 poll, 80 per cent of Scots agreed (and 12 per cent disagreed) with the statement: ‘Money for Scotland’s public services such as schools and hospitals would be spent more wisely if the decisions about it were made by the Scottish Parliament.’ 113 By comparison, there was less support for statements about ‘new politics’. For example, only 56 per cent agreed (and 21per cent disagreed) with the idea that ‘the plans to make sure that there are roughly equal numbers of men and women making up a Scottish Parliament would help it to make better decisions’. 114 In a series of questions about what would improve, remain the same, or worsen with a Scottish Parliament, 64 per cent believed ‘public services such as health and education’ would get better, compared to 55 per cent for governance (Scotland will be governed better than it is today . . . ); 43 per cent for the economy (Scotland’s economy will grow faster . . . ); and 38 per cent for personal living conditions/wealth (People like you will be better off under a Scottish Parliament . . . ). 115 Only 8 per cent believed that income tax rates would go down. In comparison to Scotland Forward, the ‘no-no’ campaign was weak and had a relatively low profile. Among the political parties, only the Conservatives opposed devolution. Their arguments centred on the notions of a ‘slippery slope’ towards independence and more conflictual relationships with Westminster. To counter the ‘yes-yes’ argument of more progressive and better suited social policies after devolution, conservative personalities stressed financial costs and dilemmas. For example, a document entitled ‘Scottish Assembly: We’re Better Off Without It’ argued: [T]he inability to fund every pet project would be blamed on the Treasury and House of Commons. These frustrations would lead to disenchantment as the imperfections of an imperfect system become clear . . . the real issue is whether the Scottish Parliament could maintain existing public expenditure levels without a

112 113

Ibid. Bolding is in the original. Political Context, Report on Devolution Poll, 1996, 15.

114

Ibid.

115

Ibid., 13.

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Nationalism and Social Policy substantial transfer of funds from the Westminster Parliament. The short answer is that it couldn’t. 116

Overall, as Gerry Mooney and Charlotte Williams put it: ‘In the case of Scotland, ( . . . ) social policy was central to the demand for devolution itself.’ 117 The Thatcher years served to exacerbate Scottish and English differences in social policy preferences and fused social and national solidarity into a potent socio-political force that was at the heart of the devolution movement. From this angle, issues of social solidarity associated with social policy helped Scottish political forces make a stronger case for devolution by stressing what united Scots against the British conservative government. In the end, the referendum produced a clear result: 74 per cent voted in favour of a Scottish Parliament, and 64 per cent favoured providing it with tax-raising powers. The argument of ‘spending the existing Scottish Office budget more wisely on education, health, and jobs’ was judged by the Scotland Forward strategic communication team to have been a key message for securing the win. 118 The 1998 Scotland Act created a Scottish Parliament and a Scottish Executive, but it did not formally divide sovereignty, which remained with Westminster. The act specifies ‘reserved’ and ‘devolved matters’. Reserved matters are policy areas where the United Kingdom Parliament retains exclusive responsibility. They include defence, foreign affairs, immigration, national security, economic competition, broadcasting, and ‘Social Security’, that is, income-maintenance programmes like old-age pensions and unemployment benefits. Taxation powers reside largely with the United Kingdom Parliament. The Scottish Parliament can change the basic rate of income tax, but by a maximum of three pence on the pound. Devolved matters are not explicitly listed in the Scotland Act. 119 All matters not specifically reserved are considered devolved to the Scottish Parliament, for example, agriculture, forestry, and fishing; education and training; Gaelic; health; housing; law and home affairs; local government; natural and built heritage; planning; police and fire services; social work; sports and the arts; statistics and public records; transport; and tourism and economic development. 120 In the field of social policy, devolution in the key areas of health, housing, 116 Viscount Weir, Donald MacKay, and Allan Stewart, Scottish Assembly: We’re Better off Without It (undated). 117 Mooney and Williams, ‘Forging New “Ways of Life”?’ 118 Scotland Forward, Winning Scotland’s Parliament, Final Report, March 1998, 16. 119 Michael Keating, The Government of Scotland (2004), 21. 120 The Scottish Parliament, How the Scottish Parliament Works (undated), 3.

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education and training, as well as social work (i.e. social services) means that the Scottish Executive provides the statutory and financial framework for NHS Scotland, administrates schools and universities, and actively tackles issues like homelessness, poverty, and social exclusion. Westminster can still make laws on devolved matters applying to Scotland but, according to the so-called Sewell Convention, not without the consent of the Scottish Parliament. The creation of the Scottish Parliament closed a chapter for the Home Rule Movement in Scotland, but also served to place the identity dimensions of Scottish politics in a new context.

National Identity and Nationalist Politics in Post-Devolution Scotland The drive towards home rule consolidated the notion, constructed most recently through the reaction against Thatcherism but stretching back to the older ‘Scottish myth’, that Scotland was a more collectivist, egalitarian, and solidaristic society than England. 121 From a comparative perspective, the contemporary Scottish and Québécois identities are similar in so far as they are equated with left-of-centre politics, at least when it comes to the issue of redistribution. Indeed, the political implications of the perceived Scottish (and Québécois) values are a positive bias towards state interventionism. In the words of Lindsay Paterson: ‘[B]eing Scottish includes believing that the state can help individual citizens to flourish.’ 122 Differently put, there is a general sense of a ‘Scottish model’ (although this term is not commonly used) somewhat akin, at least ideologically speaking, to a ‘Quebec model’, which ‘lies on the fault line between European social marketism and Atlantic neo-liberalism’. 123 More specifically, according to Scott L. Greer and Holly Jarman, Scotland is characterized by an original policy style ‘based on universalistic, directly provided, undifferentiated public services that use networks rather than competition and are governed based on a high degree of trust in the professionalism of providers’. 124 Political parties in post-devolution Scotland represent a first-hand expression of the notion that Scotland generally leans to the left when 121 It is important to note that, historically, this self-perception is probably grounded more in a form of traditionalism than in leftist ideologies. 122 Devine and Logue, Being Scottish, 208. 123 Christopher Harvie, ‘Where Tectonic Plates Collide,’ New Statesman Scotland, 13 September 1999, 32–3. 124 Scott L. Greer and Holly Jarman, ‘Policy Styles and Devolution’ (2007).

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it comes to redistribution and is friendly to progressive politics and social policy. The constitutional and institutional change involved in devolution meant the creation of a specifically Scottish party system. This party system is distinct from the United Kingdom’s in at least three respects. First, the strength of the SNP and the weakness of the Conservative Party in Scotland mean that the Nationalists, rather than the Conservatives, are one of the two major parties, along with Labour. Second, as a result of the element of proportionality in Scotland’s additional member electoral system, more parties are able to gain significant representation (percentage-wise) in the Scottish Parliament than at Westminster. At the 2003 elections, the Scottish Green Party and the Scottish Socialist Party (SSP) managed to win approximately 5 per cent of the seats (seven and six, respectively), 125 although only the Greens managed to gain representation at the 2007 elections (two seats). Finally, the Scottish party system is heavily tilted to the left, much more than the United Kingdomwide party system. This represents a political expression of the ideological connection between Scottishness and a more left-leaning socio-economic vision. Until the 2007 Scottish elections, the strongest party in Scotland’s system was Scottish Labour, having won 56 and 50 out of 129 seats in the first two Scottish elections. Although Tony Blair’s re-branding of Labour around the ‘Third Way’ rhetoric also affected Scotland, Scottish Labour (much like its English counterpart) did not drop references to the positive role that could be played by the state to foster equality and economic solidarity. For example, Scottish Labour’s Manifesto for the 2003 Scottish elections began with the following message from then leader and First Minister Jack McConnell: ‘Government should be on your side. Not secretive or remote, not expedient nor wasteful. Not acting for self-interest, but committed to the national interest. On the side of children needing a better start in life. . . . On the side of patients waiting too long.’ 126 The Manifesto then devotes considerable space to discussing the party’s strategies on health care, poverty, housing, and child care. Labour still occupies a good section of the centre-left in Scotland. It is closely associated with the Scottish Trades Union Congress and, as we discuss in the next section, diverged from the market-friendly approach of Tony Blair’s government in some policy areas. The Scottish Labour Party 125

The Scottish Senior Citizens’ Unity Party (SSCUP) secured one seat in the 2003 elections. Scottish Labour, Manifesto 2003, 1. This opening message also emphasizes the support of government for ‘business with ambitions’ and ‘those suffering at the hands of thugs and drug dealers’. 126

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lost to the SNP in the 2007 elections (winning forty-six seats against the Nationalists’ forty-seven). This close result, after eight years of LabourLiberal Democrat government, showed that Labour could not take its position of power for granted in Scotland. For the SNP, the 2007 results were a tremendous victory as it substantially improved its performance from the first two elections to Scotland’s Parliament when it garnered thirty-five and twenty-seven seats, respectively. Of course, some support for the SNP can be explained by the natural fatigue of a governing party after eight years. At the same time, the SNP never concealed that its main political plan was independence, a position that stood in sharp contrast to Labour’s commitment to the Union. Ideologically, however, the two parties’ policy discourses were very similar in balancing progressive positions on social policy with concern for economic growth and job creation. For example, in describing the party’s values, the SNP’s 2005 Manifesto states: [A]n SNP government will be open and progressive. We will promote economic success, tackle inequality, and give people the support they need to make the most of their lives. We believe that government has a responsibility to provide high quality public services, look after the vulnerable, and foster a spirit of enterprise. 127

It then specifies that ‘the SNP’s commitment to equality of opportunity demands an end to poverty and in particular to child poverty, which blights the life-chances of so many young people in Scotland’. 128 The reference to child poverty exemplifies how close the SNP and Labour parties are on social policy, as fighting this type of poverty has been a central element of ‘new’ Labour’s programme. 129 This ideological similarity might explain why Labour voters are almost as likely to define themselves exclusively as Scottish as are SNP voters: both appear to stand for similar values. For example, data drawn from the Scottish election survey of 1997 show that 32 per cent of SNP voters chose the category ‘Scottish, not British’, compared to 25 per cent of Labour voters. 130 The fairly similar ‘Scottishness’ level among Labour and SNP voters was also noticeable five years earlier when 38 per cent of SNP voters considered 127

128 Scottish National Party, Manifesto 2005, 7. Ibid. Denis Saint-Martin and Alexandra Dobrowolsky, ‘Social Learning, Third Way Politics, and Welfare State Redesign’ (2005), 245–75. 130 For conservative and liberal-democratic voters, support for the exclusive Scottish identity was 10% and 13%, respectively. The other categories on offer were ‘more Scottish than British’, ‘equally Scottish and British’, ‘more British than Scottish’, and ‘British, not Scottish’. See McCrone, Understanding Scotland, 163. 129

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themselves ‘Scottish, not British’, compared to 31 per cent of Labour voters. 131 Other parties crowd the centre-left of the ideological spectrum in the Scottish party system. Much like Scottish Labour and the SNP, the Scottish Liberal Democrats, who won sixteen seats in the 2007 elections (and seventeen in the two before), emphasize the caring role of government for children, for the elderly, and for the sick and needy. 132 The Scottish Green party is even further to the left, having proposed, for example, an allocation dubbed a Citizen’s Income Scheme to be distributed to all Scottish residents, 133 The SSP, self-described as Scotland’s ‘most radical political party’, has proclaimed its ‘long-term commitment to building a new society free from war, free from poverty, free from exploitation, free from racism’ by making Scotland a ‘socialist democracy’. 134 The SSP favours outright independence and the Greens ‘greater independence’ in the name of socialism and environmentalism, respectively, which adds a new twist to the ideological connection between Scottish nationalism and left-leaning public policy. Both parties made a significant breakthrough in the 2003 elections, but the SSP failed to gain representation in the 2007 elections after a leadership change and internal dissent. The only right-of-centre party in Scotland is the Scottish Conservative Party, which gained eighteen seats in the first two Scottish elections and seventeen in 2007. The Conservatives stress rural economic development and law and order issues rather than distinctive social policy for Scotland. 135 When they tackle social policy, it is usually health care and education, where they emphasize the notion of personal choice. The Conservatives express their policies in these terms: Our very different approach is based on trusting the Scottish people and empowering them. This starts with smaller government and the real devolution of decisionmaking. We will cut taxes and red tape, so freeing entrepreneurs to build our economy. We will give parents and patients real choice in education and health. 136

This ‘very different approach’, coupled with the Conservative opposition to devolution through the 1980s and 1990s, is considered deviant by the 131 For Conservative’s, this exclusive identity gathered 10% support, and for the LiberalDemocrats, 5%. See Jack Brand, James Mitchell, and Paula Surridge, ‘Social Constituency and Ideological Profile: Scottish Nationalism in the 1990s,’ Political Studies 42 (1994): 624. 132 See the 2005 Scottish Liberal Democrats’ Manifesto, The Real Alternative, 4–7. 133 Scottish Green Party, 2003 Scottish Manifesto, 8. 134 See Scottish Socialist Party, Manifesto for Scottish Parliamentary Election 2003, 1, 2, and 6. 135 Scottish Conservative and Unionist Party, 2003 Manifesto. 136 See the introduction by Scottish Conservative leader David McLetchie. Ibid.

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other Scottish parties; the SNP, for example, characterizes the Conservatives as ‘anti-Scottish’. 137 What do survey data tell us about the popular notion that Scots are more collectivist and progressive-minded with respect to redistribution than the English? There is some foundation to make this claim, but only some. Data from the 2001 British Election Survey and the 2000 British/Scottish Social Attitudes Survey show only a small discrepancy between Scotland and England on questions about social equality and the role of the state and of trade unions. 138 For example, 43 per cent of Scots felt that ‘state benefits for unemployed people are too low and cause hardship’, compared to 40 per cent in England. Compared to 31.1 per cent in England, just 23.7 percent of Scots thought that ‘private enterprise is the best way to solve Britain’s economic problems’. Finally, 14.4 per cent of Scots and 13.4 per cent of English felt that ‘there is no need for strong trade unions to protect employees’ working conditions and wages’. The same survey also demonstrated that, before the Scottish Executive implemented the long-term care for the elderly programme, there was little difference in preferences about who should be responsible for ‘old people’s standard of living’. 139 In Scotland, 85 per cent felt that it was ‘definitely’ the government’s responsibility, 11 per cent said ‘probably’, 0.3 per cent opted for ‘probably not’, and 0.5 per cent said ‘definitely not’. In England, the results were 80 per cent, 16 per cent, 1 per cent, and 0.5 per cent, respectively. A question regarding another future source of policy divergence between Scotland and England, up-front tuition fees, yielded a similar picture. 140 In Scotland, 5 per cent felt that ‘all students [should] pay’, 56 per cent that ‘some students [should] pay, depending on their circumstances’, and 38 per cent that ‘no students [should] pay’. In England, the results were 8 per cent, 61 per cent, and 30 per cent, respectively. Data from the 2004 Scottish Social attitudes survey confirm the argument that Scotland is only slightly more to the left than England on questions relating to taxes and welfare spending, unemployment benefits, and students fees. 141 However, Scottish distinctiveness disappears when Scotland is compared to Wales and Northern Ireland, or when England is disaggregated into regions. 142 Yet, the importance of social democratic 137 138 139

Scottish National Party, Manifesto 2005, 21. These data are compiled in Keating, The Government of Scotland, 33. See Lindsay Paterson, ‘Governing from the Centre: Ideology and Public Policy’ (2002),

207. 140 141 142

Ibid., 204. See Michael Rosie and Ross Bond, ‘Social Democratic Scotland?’ (2007), 41–7. Ibid, 46–7.

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positions in Scottish politics becomes apparent when their connection to identity and constitutional choices is considered. On the issue of identity, data from the 2001 and 2003 Scottish Social attitudes survey show that Scots who see themselves as solely or mostly Scottish typically have left-of-centre positions on redistribution while those who identify equally as Scottish and British, mostly as British or solely as British, lean more, comparatively speaking, towards the centre-right. 143 On the issue of constitutional choices, Scots who support devolution and/or further constitutional reforms are generally on the left when it comes to redistribution while Scots who favour a return to a pre-devolution system are mainly on the right. 144 This connection between social democratic positions, Scottishness, and constitutional change explains why the notion of being able to adopt and maintain progressive social programmes is a key aspect of the case for independence. The SNP’s argument for independence is multifaceted: it features, for example, the notion of being a ‘normal’ country, the possibility of gaining an international voice in European and international organizations, and the chance to stimulate economic growth and job creation. Another central SNP idea is that an independent Scotland would be able to offer more generous social benefits than it can from within the United Kingdom. From this perspective, the SNP holds that devolution was good for Scotland, but that independence would be even better. For example, it states: The Scottish Parliament has passed some important legislation, including bills on personal care for the elderly, land reform, homelessness, and proportional representation for local government elections. However, on key issues such as economic growth or pensions, it remains powerless. . . . The Scottish Parliament is also the most financially powerless parliament on earth. 145

In sum, the SNP decries the financial capacity of the Scottish Parliament and its inability to legislate in reserved matters. As a concrete incentive for pensioners to support independence, the SNP proposes a ‘Citizen’s pension of at least £110 for single pensioners and £168 for couples’. This pension, which would be based on residency in Scotland rather than contributions, is presented as a policy that eliminates means testing and fights pensioners’ poverty. 146 143

144 145 Ibid, 51. Ibid, 52. Scottish National Party, ‘Why Independence.’ Scottish National Party, Manifesto 2005, 8. In the case of the SSP, the connection between independence and progressive social policy is even clearer and more front and centre. As its 2003 Manifesto stated: ‘Here in Scotland, we stand for an independent socialist republic that can become an international symbol of fairness and justice, a Scotland that will resist and 146

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The argument for independence necessarily involves adopting an ambiguous position towards the Scottish Parliament as an institution, praising its achievements, yet underlining its limitations. In government, the SNP has followed this path as reflected by its call for a ‘national conversation’ on the future of Scotland. Shortly after its election win, the SNP produced a policy paper that outlined the possibilities for change that could fit within the framework of devolution and transformations that could only be achieved through independence. 147 Among the types of change that could be implemented within the devolution framework, that is, by transferring additional powers to Scotland, the SNP Scottish Executive mentions those that could make for a ‘fairer Scotland’ and a ‘healthier Scotland’. In this context, the document suggests that some responsibility for social security (e.g. determining eligibility for some benefits and tax credits) and pensions could be assumed by Holyrood, as well as additional powers over public health matters. 148 Interestingly, the specific discussion on independence contained in the ‘national conversation’ paper covers mostly matters of ‘high politics’ (defence, international relations, etc.). The ‘national conversation’ policy paper constitutes somewhat of a departure for the SNP, which typically linked the ideas of a ‘fairer’ and ‘healthier’ Scotland squarely to independence. Now in government, the SNP seems to be ready to show more flexibility with respect to Scotland’s constitutional options, and to consider that the tools to achieve a fairer and healthier society can, at least partially, be summoned within devolution.

The Impact of Devolution on Social Policy Development in Scotland Because the devolution process only began in 1998, assessing its impact on social policy development is difficult. In the early 2000s, media reports depicted Scotland as the ‘happening place’ for social policy reform in the United Kingdom. It has often been said, half-jokingly, that if it were defy the fatcats and warlords. We live in a country that is scarred by poverty, low pay, decaying public services, sub-standard housing, ill health, crime, alcohol and drug abuse. Yet we have a skilled, educated workforce and natural resources in abundance. This glaring contradiction between potential and the reality has one simple explanation: the people of Scotland have no real control over the resources of this country.’ Scottish Socialist Party, Manifesto for Scottish Parliamentary Election 2003, 2. 147 148

Scottish Executive, Choosing Scotland’s Future. A National Conversation, Edinburgh, 2007. Scottish Executive, Choosing Scotland’s Future. A National Conversation, 12–14.

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not for the weather, there would be mass population movements from England to Scotland, where social programmes seem more generous. 149 Yet the common wisdom of sharp policy divergence between England and Scotland may exaggerate the true scope of policy change occurring in Scotland since the late 1990s. 150 At least two obstacles impede any radical divergence in social policy between Scotland and England. The first is the existence of reserved matters, most importantly ‘Social Security’. The second is the limited level of fiscal autonomy enjoyed by the Scottish Executive. Indeed, to finance activities that fall under its jurisdiction, Scotland is dependent upon an annual block grant calculated according to the so-called Barnett Formula that provides Scotland with an expenditure base at about 32 per cent of England’s per capita level. 151 As mentioned above, the Scottish Parliament has the option to vary the basic income tax rate by 3 per cent, but increasing the tax to generate more revenues for Scotland is a politically unattractive option. Before the 2007 elections, there was a third obstacle to the construction of distinctive social programmes in Scotland linked to the structure, alignment, and electoral success of political parties in the United Kingdom. Between 1999 and 2007, the Labour Party was in power both at Westminster and Holyrood, though as a result of the proportionality element in the Scottish electoral system, Labour in Scotland governed with the Liberal Democrats. Overall, however, the political domination of the Labour Party in Scotland and in the United Kingdom at large during those years meant that peaceful coordination and discussions, rather than acute political and ideological conflicts, dominated the reform agenda. Indeed, the internal structures of the Labour Party are fairly centralized, and despite the fact that Scottish Labour is somewhat closer to Old than New Labour, the British Labour government and the Labourled Scottish Executive maintained fairly cordial relations during the first five years of the twenty-first century. Smoothing these relations was the fact that much of the Scottish bureaucracy has remained intact since devolution and remains integrated with the British civil service. As one 149

See, for example, Jackie Ashley, ‘Some guys have all the cash,’ New Statesman, 16 April

2001. 150 Gerry Mooney and Lynne Poole, ‘ “A Land of Milk and Honey?” Social Policy in Scotland after Devolution,’ Critical Social Policy 24 (2004): 458–83. For a set of critical, leftwing perspectives on post-devolution social policy in Scotland, see Gerry Mooney and Lynne Poole (eds.), Exploring Social Policy in the ‘New’ Scotland (2005). 151 Arthur Midwinter, ‘The Politics of Devolution Finance’ (2000), 233–48. The benefits for Scotland of this financial arrangement stems from a failure to adjust for demographic change as well as from the political imperative of countering nationalist forces.

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observer puts it: ‘The new government of Scotland is the Scottish Office with a legislature on top. . . . The result is that devolved Scotland is an old administration run by a new representative body.’ 152 However, the election of an SNP government in 2007 opens up possibilities for more divergence. Not only will Westminster not have the influence on the Scottish Executive that it had during Labour’s years in power at Holyrood through the internal structures of the party, but the SNP Executive will most likely be looking to accentuate policy differences with England. Despite these forces that limited the extent of territorial divergence on social policy, devolution has impacted social policy reform and generated some policy divergence between Scotland and England. A few significant measures have been adopted in Scotland since 1999. Among them was the January 2000 decision to abolish up-front tuition fees for university students, a policy not implemented in England. Although a student contribution is required after graduation, this money is diverted to a reformed system of financial aid for current students. 153 The most effective assessment of the distinctiveness of Scottish social policy after devolution is a comparison of specific policy areas. Our analysis focuses first on approaches to social exclusion, an issue that has moved up the policy agenda in the United Kingdom and elsewhere since the late 1990s. We then examine the field of health care by discussing NHS reform and the creation of a universal long-term care programme for the elderly in Scotland.

Social inclusion When New Labour came to power in 1997, the concept of ‘social exclusion’ became a central policy issue in the United Kingdom. Originating in France, this concept generally refers to poverty and long-term unemployment, among other things. 154 Frequently associated with New Labour’s activation policies, 155 the idea of social exclusion also has the advantage of moving the policy debates beyond explicit and traditional class issues. ‘Instead, the emphasis is on reintegrating failing individuals into society 152

Greer, Territorial Politics and Health Policy, 72. Richard Parry, ‘Delivery Structures and Policy Development in Post-Devolution Scotland,’ Social Policy & Society, 1, 4 (2002): 315–24. 154 Daniel Béland, ‘The Social Exclusion Discourse: Ideas and Policy Change,’ Policy & Politics 35, 1 (2007): 123–39. 155 For a critical analysis of the idea of workfare related to activation policies, see Desmond King, In The Name of Liberalism: Illiberal Social Policy in the United States and Britain (1999). 153

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and allowing them to make their contribution to economic and social life, to the ultimate benefit of all.’ 156 In 1997, the Blair government established a Social Exclusion Unit to reduce social exclusion, defined as ‘what can happen when people or areas suffer from a combination of linked problems such as unemployment, poor skills, low incomes, poor housing, high crime environments, bad health, and family breakdown’. 157 In Scotland, a Social Inclusion Network staffed by civil servants and representatives from local authorities and NGOs was created as talk of progressive social policy and ‘new politics’ peaked during the period preceding devolution. 158 The network insisted on the terminology ‘social inclusion’ (as opposed to social exclusion in England) in order to stress structural rather than behavioural factors and to avoid stigmatizing particular groups. 159 ‘Social inclusion’ in Scottish policy discourse acquired broader meaning than was evident in England, as policy experts used it to refer to issues ranging from unemployment to gender inequality and racism. The Scottish Social Inclusion Network helped produce the Scottish Executive’s action plan on social justice, ‘Social Justice: A Scotland where Everyone Matters’. Overall, the discourse on social justice in Scotland took a more positive tone than in England. Although the Social Inclusion Network was abolished in 2003, a large number of community organizations are still involved in social inclusion initiatives across Scotland. Because of the smaller policy community, it has proved easier to coordinate the actions of these organizations than in England. Social inclusion initiatives comprise modest, lowkey programmes that have produced mixed results so far in Scotland. 160 Yet, this policy area is of growing social and political importance. Hence, the fact that Scotland is doing things slightly differently than England in that area is significant. 161 During the first five years of the twenty-first century, the STUC played a significant role in the development of social inclusion policies. It worked closely with the Scottish Executive on the implementation of programmes to fight racism, to promote lifelong learning, and to close the gap between male and female wage earners. The 2002 Memorandum of Understanding consecrated the formal integration of trade unions 156

Keating, The Government of Scotland, 197. Quoted in Helen Fawcett, ‘The Making of Social Justice Policy in Scotland: Devolution and Social Exclusion’ (2004), 241. 158 159 Ibid., 243. Ibid., 245. 160 According to Gill Scott, limited funding largely explains these mixed results: ‘Active Labour Market Policy and the Reduction of Poverty in the “New” Scotland,’ Critical Social Policy 26, 3: 669–84. 161 Fawcett, ‘The Making of Social Justice Policy in Scotland,’ 245. 157

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(STUC) with the Scottish policy-making process. 162 The official inclusion of trade unions in Scotland’s post-devolution policy-making initiatives has strengthened the ideological connection between Scottishness and progressive social policy. According to a former trade union official, the logic of consultation became so real that the STUC, despite a lower media profile than during the devolution campaign, gained far greater access to policy-makers than it enjoyed previous to 1999. 163 This situation differed from England’s, where Prime Minister Blair (1997–2007) did much to reduce the perceived policy-making influence of trade unions. This pushing aside of trade unions is a crucial aspect of New Labour policy in England, a legacy of Thatcherism 164 that was largely rejected in Scotland. The following discussion of health care reform confirms the idea that, in the years following devolution, civil society actors played an increasingly central role in Scottish social policy development. This consultative approach is similar to the one that has prevailed in Quebec since the 1970s. Indeed, both societies feature a prominent discourse on national solidarity, cooperation, and social democracy involving some kind of corporatist policy-making.

Health care reform The centrepiece of the modern British welfare state, health care is probably the best example of Scotland’s potential for policy distinctiveness in the post-devolution era. 165 When devolution became reality in 1999, Scotland had inherited Conservative health care policies such as the poorly implemented but significant ‘internal market’. 166 Yet, these conservative policies were especially unpopular in Scotland, where influential medical professions are tied to prestigious medical schools. In part for that reason, these professions are influential actors within Scotland’s policy communities, and their representatives had long criticized most of the NHS reforms enacted under the Thatcher and Major governments. 167 Scottish Labour also disliked these reforms. This groundswell 162 Scottish Executive, Memorandum of Understanding: The Scottish Executive and the STUC Working Together, Edinburgh, 2002. 163 Interview with a top STUC official, Glasgow, 5 May 2005. 164 On this general issue, see Richard Hefferman, New Labour and Thatcherism ( 2000). 165 Interview with a top civil servant of the Scottish Office (Ministry of Health and Community Care), Edinburgh, 4 May 2005. 166 The following paragraph draws extensively on Scott Greer’s discussion about the Scottish health care reform after devolution: Territorial Politics and Health Policy, 78–91. 167 Ibid.

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of discontent offered fertile soil for enacting measures that differed from the Blair government’s pro-market vision of health care. 168 What has been significant about the post-devolution Scottish NHS is the relative departure from market metaphors and private-sector management styles, as well as the crystallization of a professional model of regulation more similar to the one associated with the pre-Thatcher-era NHS. The 2003 Scottish White Paper ‘Partnership for Care’ illustrated the concept that state officials should work with the medical professions instead of unilaterally imposing strict controls upon them. This report sketched a model for NHS governance distinct from the Blair government’s emphasis on market solutions for health care reform. 169 As a matter of policy, the Scottish Executive chose not to experiment with so-called foundation hospitals while showing little enthusiasm for Blair’s strategy of imposing targets upon the health care system. A distinctive trait of Scottish health policy as compared to England’s is the stronger emphasis on public health. This asymmetry owes much to the fact that Scots have long been described as one of the least healthy populations in Europe. 170 Furthermore, the public health coalition is well organized in Scotland, and intense competition between left-leaning parties has stimulated the development of public health programmes. 171 In June 2005, the Scottish Parliament enacted legislation—Smoking, Health, and Social Care—that banned smoking in public places and provided free vision and dental check-ups. The legislation, which some anti-tobacco advocates depicted as a potential model for England to follow, came into force in March 2006. 172 The enactment of a universal personal long-term care programme for the elderly is certainly the most distinct and far-reaching social measure adopted in the aftermath of devolution. Distinct from New Labour philosophy supporting the development of income-tested programmes, free personal care for the elderly is grounded in the universalist logic of social citizenship traditionally associated with the post-war British welfare state. Simultaneously, as in other advanced industrial countries, long-term care policies are part of a broader set of measures dealing with so-called new social risks related to population aging and changes in the labour market 168

Ibid. Scottish Executive, Partnership for Care: Scotland’s Health White Paper (2003). See also Greer, Territorial Politics and Health Policy, 81–2. 170 Interview with a top civil servant of the Scottish Office (Ministry of Health and Community Care), Edinburgh, 4 May 2005. 171 Greer, Territorial Politics and Health Policy, 83–4. 172 BBC News, ‘Smoking Ban Law Approved by MSPs,’ BBC News Online, 30 June 2005. 169

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and family structures. 173 In Scotland, the personal long-term care programme offers benefits to elderly citizens requiring nursing and personal care (including bathing, feeding, and dressing). 174 The programme applies to elderly individuals living at home and in care homes. The implementation of this programme involves a significant re-territorialization of social policy grounded in the idea of sub-state national solidarity. Here, the discrepancy between Westminister and Holyrood is the product of divergent policy ideas. In England, the Blair government decided to enact meanstested benefits even though it could afford citizenship-based provisions like the ones now provided in Scotland. From that perspective, the genesis of Scotland’s programme is extremely revealing, as it underlines the interaction between party competition and the quest for national distinctiveness in post-devolution Scotland. Ironically, the origins of Scotland’s distinctive long-term care programme lie in the pre-devolution report of the Great Britain Royal Commission on Long-Term Care, commonly known as the Sutherland Report, which advocated the creation of such a programme. 175 The Blair government finally rejected the proposal in favour of a more modest, means-tested program. Scotland’s Labour First Minister Henry McLeish made it a point to deliver free personal care for the elderly. 176 In November 2000, explicitly seeking to demonstrate that devolution would mean doing things differently, McLeish declared on a BBC programme (Newsnight Scotland) ‘that he would like to implement the Sutherland Report in full, funding personal care for the elderly in long-stay homes’. 177 Interestingly, his predecessor Donald Dewar had rejected the Sutherland Report, ‘arguing that it was unthinkable that citizens in one part of the United Kingdom could have better basic benefits than others’. 178 In the end, the support of opposition parties for full implementation became important in the context of some hesitation within the Labour party. Ironically, the strongest opposition to the personal care programme came from the ranks of the United Kingdom Labour Party and the Blair cabinet, who did not like to see the Scottish move undermine its decision 173 On new social risks, see Peter Taylor-Gooby (ed.), New Risks, New Welfare: The Transformation of the European Welfare State (2005). 174 For an excellent description and analysis of this programme see Rachel Simeon, ‘Free Personal Care: Policy Divergence and Social Citizenship’ (2003), 215–33. 175 Sir Stewart Sutherland, With Respect to Old Age: Long Term Care—Rights and Responsibilities: A Report by the Royal Commission on Long Term Care (1999). 176 Interview with a Liberal-Democrat MSP, Edinburgh, April 2005. 177 BBC News, ‘Scorn over Quango Crackdown,’ BBC News Online, 14 November 2000. 178 Tom Brown, ‘The S-word Returns to Scotland,’ New Statesman, 5 February 2001.

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not to implement a more generous programme in England. The fact that the Scottish Parliament would enact a policy alternative based on a commission’s report sponsored, yet finally ignored, by the Blair government created much resentment towards Scotland. 179 Yet, in a concrete manifestation of its institutional autonomy, the Scottish Parliament did enact that measure in the name of Scotland’s distinct social model. The necessary funds, initially estimated at 125 million pounds per year, were drawn from Whitehall’s ‘Scottish Block’. 180 Social policy divergence between Scotland and England becomes especially significant politically in the context of elections in the United Kingdom. Indeed, devolution added a new twist to the campaigning discourses and strategies of Westminster politicians because they have to address the existence of distinct policies in Scotland and England. This can mean explaining the perceived success of an English policy to a Scottish audience, or of a Scottish policy to English voters. In the 2005 general elections, for example, Prime Minister Tony Blair argued that his government had been quite successful at improving health care service delivery as measured by shorter waiting times for treatment. The consequence of this campaigning was to point to Scotland’s longer waiting lists, which could undermine popular support for the distinct, less promarket approach of the Scottish Executive. Scottish politicians attempted to explain the longer waiting lists by arguing that the Scottish NHS prioritized cardiovascular and respiratory ailments, which meant that patients in need of more minor surgical procedures had to wait longer. In the end, this type of argument failed to persuade the Scottish public and, in the middle of the election campaign, the Scottish Executive announced that it would move towards more ‘English-style’ NHS reforms. 181 Policy divergence between Scotland and England therefore presents inherent limitations in so far as perceived failure on the Scottish side will result in tremendous pressures on the Scottish Executive to copy an English policy judged to be more successful. There will be even more pressure if the same party is in power at Holyrood and Westminster. From this perspective, Scotland in the devolution era may have the autonomy to adopt distinct social programmes in devolved policy areas, but it is not immune from England’s influence through powerful agenda-setting processes emanating from the central state. 179

Greer, Territorial Politics and Health Policy, 88–9. Kevin J. Woods, ‘Health Policy and the NHS in the UK, 1997–2002,’ (2002), 25–59). 181 Fraser Nelson and James Kirkup, ‘Scottish NHS to get system of “tariffs”,’ The Scotsman, 26 April 2005, 2. 180

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Yet devolution also means that Scotland presents agenda-setting potential within British politics at large. This is particularly true because Scottish politics is generally left of centre when it comes to redistribution, and therefore likely to produce new social programmes that might not immediately find an English equivalent. Much like what happened in Canada with Quebec, Scotland could become a source of policy innovation in the social domain and, as a consequence, put pressure on Westminster to implement similar policies in England. For example, the Scottish long-term care programme for the elderly caught the eye of progressive pressure groups in England. Unison, a British trade union, distributed a poster contrasting a happy (Scottish) senior, under the heading ‘care free’, alongside a sad and lonely-looking (English) one, under the heading ‘care fee’. 182 During the 2005 general elections campaign, the Liberal Democrats were proposing, on the strength of policies enacted in Scotland by their coalition with Labour, free personal care for the elderly and the abolition of university tuition fees. The Liberal Democrat Party, but also Labour, courted Scottish voters by promising more financial resources for the Scottish Executive to implement health care and other social policy reforms. As the small third party in the United Kingdom’s party system, the Liberal Democrats have been especially keen to trumpet, in the context of United Kingdom general elections, the achievements of the party in their coalition with Labour at Holyrood. For example, the Liberal Democrats’ Scottish Manifesto for 2005 stated that ‘[f]ree personal care for the elderly—delivered in Scotland, was attacked by Labour ministers in England as “crazy”—but thousands of Scottish pensioners are now benefiting from the security and dignity this policy provides’. 183 It added: ‘Scotland is blazing the trail for the rest of the United Kingdom. In government in Scotland, Scottish Liberal Democrats have provided the policy backbone for the Executive’s most dynamic initiatives.’ 184 The enactment of free, universal long-term care for the elderly is a good example of the impact devolution has had in the politics of social policy in Scotland and perhaps in the United Kingdom at large. Although the British government has so far resisted left-wing pressures to follow the Scottish Executive’s lead in this particular case, further policy divergence might eventually put the British government in even 182 Daniel Béland and André Lecours, ‘The Politics of Territorial Solidarity: Nationalism and Social Policy Reform in Canada, the United Kingdom, and Belgium,’ Comparative Political Studies 38 (2005): 676–703. 183 See the statement by Scottish Liberal Democrat leader Jim Wallace in the Scottish Liberal Democrats’ Manifesto, The Real Alternative, 1. 184 Ibid.

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more uncomfortable situations than the one surrounding the adoption of the Sutherland Report north of the border. Unless new institutional reforms are enacted, however, strong fiscal heteronomy, the maintenance of income-maintenance programmes (i.e. ‘Social Security’) as a ‘reserved’ matter, as well as neo-liberal pressures and European Union-wide initiatives and regulations will limit Scotland’s capacity to create a truly distinct welfare state. 185 However, with the SNP now in power, a clear political will to achieve further social policy distinctiveness could go some distance towards mitigating these barriers to divergence. For now, however, truly distinctive—and/or controversial—programmes like universal care for the elderly remain the exception rather than the rule in Scotland, at least in the field of social policy. 186

Conclusion This chapter provides more ground for our six general claims about the relationship between nationalism and social policy. First, the chapter suggests that, at both the state and the sub-state levels, social policy has been used to foster and promote competing forms of territorial solidarities and identities. In Scotland, it is only since the Thatcher era that social policy has become a major tool for the promotion of sub-state national solidarity and the consolidation of Scottish national identity. Before then, the connection between Scottish identity and social policy was weak, in large part because Scottish nationalism was a fairly marginal movement and because Scotland lacked autonomous political institutions. At the British level, however, the development of the post-war welfare state reinforced the presence of the central government in the life of ordinary people and created a sense of belonging related to concrete, institutionalized forms of economic solidarity and redistribution rooted in the notion of British social citizenship. The formal institutional setting of the concentration of sovereignty helps to explain why Scottish nationalism, at least in its home rule or independence-seeking manifestations, remained weak until the 1980s: in the context of political centralization, the welfare state became a symbol of shared identity and social citizenship in the post-war United Kingdom. The Scottish political class remained solidly wedded to the British state and, as opposed to what happened in Quebec, there was 185

Mooney and Poole, ‘A Land of Milk and Honey?’ Interview with a top civil servant of the Scottish Office (Ministry of Health and Community Care), Edinburgh, 4 May 2005. 186

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no strong political resistance to the development of a more centralized welfare state. Second, our claim that social policy is a central aspect of the mobilization component of sub-state nationalism finds ground in Scottish politics during the 1980s and 1990s. Social policy became a central aspect of Scottish nationalist mobilization when Scotland’s autonomy was challenged by the successive Thatcher and Major governments. Although Conservatives failed to dismantle the British welfare state, policy cutbacks and restructurings that proved especially unpopular in Scotland undermined social citizenship and the form of British national identity rooted in it. The legacy of Thatcherism in Scotland was to transform social policy into an attractive ideological focus for expressing social and political differences and legitimizing claims for institutional autonomy or, from the perspective of the SNP, outright independence. At the theoretical level, this suggests that, in order to understand the social policy claims of sub-state nationalism, one must pay attention to the changing political interaction of national identity and social policy at the state level. Overall, as in Quebec, Scotland’s political class has referred to social policy preferences as a manifestation of national distinctiveness. This logic played a major role in the nationalist campaign for devolution where the opportunity to formulate distinctive, more generous social policy became a key rationale for the creation of the Scottish Parliament. It is still central to post-devolution politics, both in terms of formal policy outputs and the discourse around Scottish independence. Third, the focus of Scottish nationalism on social policy is hardly the simple product of economic self-interests. In fact, nationalist claims for autonomy and even independence in the name of distinct social policy preferences might be considered surprising in the case of Scotland which, as a region poorer than the South of England, could have much to lose from the decentralization of social policy. 187 Scotland, like Quebec, is a net receiver of territorial transfers and, partially for that reason, Scottish politicians seldom criticize territorial redistribution in the United Kingdom as Flemish leaders do in Belgium. Of course, one could argue that the final drive towards home rule occurred with the knowledge that Scotland would get a generous fiscal deal from Westminster, yet the idea that devolution would make Scotland wealthier was not front and centre of the ‘yes-yes’ campaign. On the contrary, the notion that 187 The wealth of Scotland relative to England is a tricky question because of at least two issues. The first is that England is highly differentiated with respect to economic development. The second is how oil should be factored into the assessment of Scotland’s wealth.

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Scotland would suffer financially and economically with devolution was something home rule supporters needed to refute again and again. On the issue of independence, the argument could be made (as the SNP does) that Scotland taking full control of all its resources, especially oil, could offer economic benefits to the population. However, it is unclear as to whether many Scots believe that independence would bring major economic gains to Scotland. Overall, the Scottish case substantiates our argument that nationalist claims for the political decentralization of social policy are not primarily about money and should not be understood in terms of a purely economic cost–benefit analysis. In other words, nationalist movements seeking the partial or complete decentralization of social policy cannot be reduced to financial considerations. Scottish nationalists, much like Québécois nationalists, look for decentralization despite the fact that such a move is not widely expected to result in economic gain. Clearly, the nationalist discourse of congruence between the national community (as conceptualized by the movement’s leaders) and the social community strikes a chord with the population’s identity and its perceived values and principles that override purely financial considerations. Stated another way, supporters of Scottish home rule during the 1990s (an impressive segment of the population, as suggested by the referendum result) did not seem to behave as rational actors looking to maximize their wealth. The same principle applies to advocates of independence during and after the campaign for a Scottish Parliament. Yet, this did not prevent Scottish politicians to tell Scots that it was in their interest to support devolution, which would help bring about better social services and more generous social programmes. Fourth, since the Thatcher era, Scottish politics has featured claims about the existence of a national unit of solidarity where Scots have a special obligation to each other’s welfare. In Scotland, it is clear that opposition to Thatcherism helped create a sense of social and political solidarity, articulated through a discourse that justified greater political autonomy, which became a powerful mobilization tool. This logic was instrumental in the push for devolution, which ultimately succeeded in 1998. Fifth, the institutional framework of devolution increased the agendasetting potential of nationalism within Scotland and the United Kingdom at large. The connection between Scottishness and the ideal of social justice has meant a near-consensus about social policy in the Scottish Parliament, with only the Scottish Conservatives consistently favouring 140


explicitly neo-liberal approaches. Differently put, because the drive towards home rule was often framed in terms of Scotland’s need to be able to develop progressive social policy, the nationalist quest for territorial distinctiveness has weighed heavily on the policy agenda of the Scottish Executive and the Scottish Parliament. The elimination of up-front university tuition fees and the personal long-term care programme for the elderly represent policy choices falling squarely into the recent trajectory of Scottish nationalism. Framed as a necessary consequence of Scottish values, these distinctive policies have not gone unnoticed south of the border, as it seems that devolution might yield a territorial agenda-setting dynamic most often observed in federal systems. Sixth, the Scottish case highlights the variability of the impact of substate nationalism on social policy as we can now compare with our first case study of Quebec and Canada. At the broadest level, the main consequence of Scottish nationalism for the British welfare state was the creation of a Scottish Parliament and Executive in 1999. The postdevolution institutional setting is the starting point for social policy divergence between Scotland and England. Indeed, the broad-based nationalist movement that developed in the context of the drive towards home rule can be vindicated by the distinct social policies enacted since devolution took place in 1999. This is particularly evident in the crucial and highly symbolic field of health care where, among other things, a free long-term care programme for the elderly was developed. Nationalist pressures to ‘do things differently’ in Scotland impacted policy outcomes, often by means of policies that are more generous, or less pro-market, than England’s. This is the tangible product of devolution, and it allows the Scottish Executive to design and implement policies in ‘devolved matters’. At the same time, there is some popular disillusionment with what the new Scottish Parliament has been able to achieve. 188 This could be in part because the institutional autonomy of post-devolution Scotland is limited, for example when compared to Quebec’s situation within Canada. The most important limitation is the fiscal dependency of the Scottish Executive visà-vis the central state. Considering such heteronomy and the existence of ‘reserved matters’, Scotland’s capacity to design original and distinctive social policy is constrained. Finally, there is no evidence that devolution and the mobilization of Scottish nationalism in the field of social policy have favoured an erosion of social benefits at the state or sub-state level. 188 For example, BBC News, ‘ “Frustration” Felt over Devolution,’ BBC News Online, 11 August 2002.

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Although more limited in scope than in Quebec, the impact of sub-state nationalism on social policy seems to have meant, at least in Scotland, more rather than less social protection. In terms of mediating factors, the connection between Scottish nationalism and social policy was shaped primarily by a specific institutional situation—the concentration of sovereignty at Westminster—which left the administrative mechanisms underlining Scotland’s historical autonomy unable to effectively prevent the implementation of some unpopular Conservative policies during the Thatcher era. In this context, Scottish political and societal leaders politicized national sentiments for the purpose of securing home rule as a way to enable Scotland to develop social policies argued to be more congruent with the values, preferences, and needs of Scots. Certainly, the structures of the British union-state that afforded societal and administrative autonomy to Scotland are key to understanding why the idea of Scottish nationhood remained strong after almost three centuries within the United Kingdom, and why it could become a potent political factor in the 1980s. Scotland’s specific socio-economic conditions in relation to southern England (traditionally higher unemployment and lower levels of economic development) represent an interesting variable to consider in explaining the connection between Scottish nationalism and social policy. The fact that, on average, Scots relied more heavily on the British welfare state than the population of southern England made them more likely to oppose the Thatcher government. This opposition to bold rightwing policies, in turn, is central for understanding why Scottishness became associated with more progressive social policies. From this perspective, socio-economic conditions help explain how claims for social policy divergence drive Scottish politics, although these have to be considered in the context of Scotland’s institutional placement within the United Kingdom during the Conservative rule of the 1980s. The emphasis on socio-economic conditions when explaining that identity-building and nationalist mobilization processes in Scotland involve references to distinct social policy preferences could also be articulated in ideological terms. From this point of view, Scotland’s relative underdevelopment in relation to southern England would suggest leftleaning positions on social policy. This view corresponds to the widely held notion that Scotland has always been more socialist than England. 189 189

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Brown, ‘The S-word Returns to Scotland.’


This is certainly a position that can be challenged by, for example, pointing out the strength of Conservative unionism until the mid twentieth century. More significant, however, is the fact that these images of Scotsas-egalitarians and as collectivists do exist, and they represent powerful political references. Thus, it is hardly surprising that Scottish nationalism would emphasize leftist positions because it can juxtapose national identity with potent mobilization frames. Of course, the catalyst for this combination came from Scotland’s political and institutional powerlessness to prevent the election of successive Thatcherite governments and the implementation of their explicitly neo-liberal policies. Indeed, opposition to Thatcherism may have pushed Scottish nationalism and politics further to the left than would have been the case in a different political environment. If this is true, it would reinforce the notion that the leftwing orientation of Scottish nationalism is anything but natural, and that changing economic and political conditions could move it elsewhere on the ideological spectrum. For example, devolution may, in the long term, reshape the ideological orientation of Scottish nationalism, and with that, its connection to social policy. Some could see a sign of such change in the SNP’s growing praise of entrepreneurship and in the Scottish political class’ discourse of a ‘smart successful Scotland’. 190 Neo-liberalism is obviously not absent from Scotland, and tensions exist between the nationalist left-leaning social policy agenda and more conservative and individualist visions of welfare. 191 The real test for the extent of social policy divergence driven by Scottish nationalism most likely began with the election of an SNP government in 2007. The SNP’s influence on policy-making had already been significant because it pushed other parties to support policies labelled as distinctively Scottish. Now in a formal position of power, the nationalist party can set the agenda more clearly. Months after its election, the SNP has chosen the ‘national conversation’ as a way to engage Scots in a process of reflection about their own political future that could open up social policy divergence between England and Scotland, and further weaken Scots’ commitment to the Union. This prospect seems to be well understood by Westminster politicians, most notably Prime Minister Gordon Brown, who is keen to discuss and promote Britishness in Scotland. As we have 190 Nicola McEwen, ‘Welfare Solidarity in a Devolved Scotland,’ Paper presented to the European Consortium for Political Research, Workshop, The Welfare-State and Territorial Politics, Edinburgh, 28 March–2 April 2003. 191 Mooney and Williams, ‘Forging New “Ways of Life”?’

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argued in this chapter, Labour, with its social policy discourse, is still well positioned to do that, especially with a Scottish leader like Gordon Brown. The prospect for both social policy and constitutional divergence would be the greatest in the case of an SNP Scottish Executive facing a Conservative government in Westminster, a scenario which, if it were to happen, could very well be a defining period for the Union and the British welfare state.

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4 Belgium: Nationalism, State Reform, and Social Security

Belgium is a small European democracy that constitutes a fascinating laboratory for the study of political mobilization and institutional reform. Over the past four decades, it has evolved from a Jacobin unitary state to a federal system where many policy areas now fall under the jurisdiction of the Regions and the Communities. 1 Furthermore, as compared to Canada and the United Kingdom, Belgium presents a unique situation, in part because Flanders, the region where sub-state nationalism is strong, is the country’s richest and most populated area. Despite Flemish claims for the ‘federalization’, or decentralization, of Belgium’s social insurance system (which is known as Social Security), however, the social insurance schemes created in 1944 are largely intact as they remain under federal jurisdiction. Yet, other social policy areas have witnessed significant forms of decentralization. We now use the Belgian case to complete the examination of how our six theoretical claims about the relationship between nationalism and social policy square against empirical evidence. In so doing, we examine how the federalization of social insurance schemes emerged in the broader context of Flemish nationalist mobilization and political struggles and explore the arguments formulated by both sides of the linguistic divide in order to frame the issue of federalization. Finally, we analyse the institutional and political obstacles that have thus far prevented the federalization of social insurance in Belgium. The only exception is the Flemish dependency insurance, which is discussed later in the chapter. 1 We capitalize Region and Community when they refer to constitutional and political units, and leave the two words small case when their meaning is broader, referring to space and collectivity, respectively.

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The chapter begins with a brief discussion on the origins of Flemish nationalism and on the organization of the Belgian state during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. We then analyse the postwar expansion of social policy and explain how subsequent political, economic, and institutional change paved the way for the meshing of social policy reform and nationalist mobilization that became apparent in Flanders starting in the 1980s. This leads to an analysis of the Flemish push for the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system. For the most part, this effort must be understood in the context of the Flemish view of federalism that features a strongly autonomous Flanders but also in the perspective of more radical nationalist projects such as the recent idea of transforming Belgium into a confederation and the older option of separatism. We analyse the politics of social insurance federalization by examining the positions of Flemish and Francophone parties and, more broadly, by looking at how both supporters and opponents of federalization framed the issue. We then tackle the following puzzle: Why has the federal social insurance system not been at least partially decentralized in light of the fact that the Flemish political class overwhelmingly supports it? We argue that two crucial elements are involved. The first is that federal social partners, primarily the labour unions, have not split along linguistic lines and hold considerable legitimacy by virtue of their role in managing the social insurance system. The second is that Francophone parties have ‘veto power’ over this type of reform. The chapter concludes with a discussion of the Flemish dependency insurance scheme, which could pave the way for the development of further distinct social policies in Flanders.

The Early Belgian State and the Rise of the Flemish Movement In Belgium, the connection between sub-state nationalism and social policy is a recent phenomenon, as debates regarding the federalization of social insurance schemes began in the 1980s. 2 This does not mean that Belgium’s political and social development through the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries is irrelevant with respect to understanding how social policy became entangled in identity and territorial politics 2 Both ‘federalization’ and ‘de-federalization’ are used to refer to the decentralization of the Belgian social insurance system (Social Security). We will use ‘federalization’ primarily because it makes sense not only in recent years, but also before Belgium became a formal federation in 1993.

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decades later. On the contrary, two of this period’s features illuminate our understanding of the social policy–nationalism nexus. First, the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries witnessed the rise of the Flemish Movement that eventually grew to articulate ideas of Flemish nationhood. The Movement’s focus on cultural and linguistic issues is important for understanding why the Flemish identity is less permeated by social policy issues than Scottish or Québécois identities, as is the fact that the Flemish Movement became closely associated with the Christian Democratic Party and its ideology. Second, this period also saw the development of a segmented society, that is, a society divided between Liberal, Socialist, and Christian pillars. These social divisions would later condition the structure of the Belgian social insurance system which, in turn, affected how Flemish nationalism came to be connected with social policy issues. The emergence of the Flemish Movement in the mid to late nineteenth century should be understood in light of the formative moment of the Belgian state and its early structures. In 1795, France annexed the territories of present-day Belgium. For two decades, French authorities ‘exported’ the French political model to these territories, and many members of the Belgian elite studied in France. 3 Between 1815 and 1830, what is now Belgium was known as the Southern Netherlands and was part of the Dutch kingdom. Yet policies of Calvinist affirmation and linguistic homogenization promoted by King William I of Orange triggered a movement for secession among a Catholic population whose elites spoke French. The Belgian revolution of 1830 was primarily the work of a French-speaking bourgeoisie, though it did receive the support of the Flemish traditional petty bourgeoisie (which also spoke French) and clergy, 4 for whom religious solidarity superseded linguistic considerations. 5 Consequently, the Belgian state was established as a Frenchspeaking state, and French was the exclusive language in Parliament, the higher courts, the central administration, and the army. 6 The constitution specified no official language, but because French was associated with modernity and the enlightenment, the builders of the early Belgian state assumed that the French language would eventually erase lesser tongues. 7 3 Daniel-Louis Seiler, ‘Un État entre importation et implosion: Consociativité, partitocratie et lotissement dans la sphère publique en Belgique’ (1999), 28. 4 Jean Beaufays, ‘Belgium: A Dualist Political System?’ Publius: A Journal of Federalism 18 (1988): 64. 5 It is important to specify that there was less linguistic standardization in the territories of present-day Flanders than in those of present-day Wallonia. 6 Louis Vos, ‘The Flemish National Question’ (1998), 83. 7 Kenneth D. McRae, Conflict and Compromise in Multilingual Societies. Belgium (1986), 22.

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Belgium’s centralized structures, designed to project a nation ‘one and indivisible’ replicating the French Jacobin model, were meant to facilitate this process. The Flemish Movement emerged as a reaction to this nation-building project of the Francophone elites. The early Flemish Movement was more Belgian than Flemish in the sense that it sought to make Belgium less French (i.e. bilingual and bicultural). 8 From this perspective, it would be incorrect to think that Belgium was mainly divided along a linguistic cleavage right from the beginning and that there was never any such entity as a Belgian nation. In fact, the main cleavages of nineteenthcentury Belgium were religious and class-based, rather than linguistic. 9 Indeed, immediately after independence, the country was permeated by tension between clericalism and anti-clericalism, leading to a crystallization of political and social life around the Liberal and the Catholic pillars. Early on, Catholics very successfully converted their social and spiritual visions into policies, whereas Liberals dominated in the mid nineteenth century. 10 In this context, the Parti libéral, created in 1846, became the political expression of the anti-clerical, mainly urban, bourgeoisie, 11 while the Catholics did not organize themselves as a party until 1884, when the structure of the Roman Catholic Church was no longer deemed a sufficient political resource. 12 The Catholic Party remained in power from 1884 until the First World War, and this domination ended Belgium’s French-style, secularist, state-building project. 13 In the late nineteenth century, the industrial revolution led to overt class politics and the creation of the Parti ouvrier belge. These divisions were more than simply partisan, or even political; they corresponded to the emergence of a Socialist pillar that existed alongside the Liberal and the Catholic ones. In this context, nineteenth-century Belgium was a segmented society where various ‘social worlds’, or pillars, coexisted somewhat uneasily. The degree of internal structuring proved strongest within the Catholic pillar where distinct local, farm, and labour organizations emerged. 14 Catholic labour unions were formed after the publication of the Church’s encyclical Rerum 8

Lode Wils, Histoire des nations belges (1996), 178. This being said, there was a linguistic component to class since the bourgeoisie in every part of Belgium spoke French while the majority of the people in the North spoke Netherlandic languages. 10 Els Witte, Jan Craeybecks, and Alain Meynen, Political History of Belgium (2000), 31–72. 11 Xavier Mabille, Histoire politique de la Belgique: Facteurs et acteurs de changement (1997), 141. 12 Jean Beaufays, ‘Petite histoire d’un jeune État binational’ (1998), 25. 13 Seiler, ‘Un État entre importation et implosion,’ 28. 14 Witte, Craeybecks, and Meynen, Political History of Belgium, 93. 9

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Novarum in 1891. In 1904, a Secrétariat général des unions professionnelles chrétiennes was created to unify the growing Catholic labour movement. In 1912, the Confédération générale des syndicats chrétiens et libres de Belgique (CSC) was formed in an attempt to curtail the development of the Socialist labour movement. By the turn of the century, the Flemish Movement had evolved from a movement seeking to restructure the Belgian state and nation to one that increasingly expressed a distinct Flemish identity. The mechanism for this transformation was the staunch refusal of Francophone elites to accept the notion of bilingualism pursued by the Flemish Movement. 15 In fact, the claims of the Flemish Movement were countered by the creation of a Walloon Movement that initially struggled against the formal equality of Dutch and French (eventually granted by the De Vriendt-Coremans Law of 1898), and that later opposed any bilingual status for Wallonia. 16 In this context, by the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the linguistic cleavage became significant to the point that Walloon activist Jules Destrée wrote to the king (with great exaggeration) that there were no more Belgians. 17 Flemish nationalism during this period revolved around linguistic issues. The fledgling Flemish identity was cultural, and nationalist mobilization focused on language. In this context, a very strong connection emerged between language, territory, and identity, 18 of which the postFirst World War campaign designed to elevate Dutch as the main language at the University of Ghent is a perfect illustration. This Flemish drive for linguistic and cultural protection led to pressures for the implementation of territorial monolingualism in Belgium consecrated by a series of language laws implemented during the 1930s. Francophones, who were by then losing their grip on Belgium as universal suffrage, 19 allowed Flemings to translate their demographic weight (they were more numerous than French-speakers) into political power, reluctantly agreed to this legislation for fear that Dutch might otherwise penetrate the southern part of the country. The consequence of this language legislation, which 15

Kris Deschouwer and Theo Maarten Jans, ‘L’avenir des institutions, vu de Flandre’ (2001),

214. 16

Chantal Kesteloot, Mouvement wallon et identité nationale (1993). Jules Destrée, ‘Open Letter to the King, Concerning the Separation of Flanders and Wallonia’ (1912) (1992), 206–15. 18 Kris Deschouwer, ‘Comprendre le nationalisme flamand,’ Fédéralisme/Régionalisme (1999/2000): 81–9. 19 As in many other countries, suffrage was first extended to men only (1893) and only later to women. 17

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was followed by another round in 1962–3, was to crystallize Flemish identity around language. Of course, there was another dimension to linguistic activism, as the exclusive use of Dutch in Flanders along with its formally recognized status in Belgium, would open up social, economic, and political opportunities for Flemings. Somewhat paradoxically, the language laws also led to more nationalist conflicts over language issues as both sides fought over loopholes of different sorts and attempted to settle the situation in Brussels. 20 This trajectory of Flemish nationalism explains why it remained strongly focused on language for so long and why it did not begin to incorporate social policy dimensions until the 1980s. Flemish nationalism is strongly infused by linguistic distinctiveness, arguably even more so than Québécois nationalism, which also grew out of political and social conflict surrounding language. Some Belgian politicians have described their country as being comprised of three oppressed minorities, 21 an image that underlines the sense of precariousness Flemings have long felt about their language, despite growing political power and economic success. This acute sense of cultural and linguistic vulnerability may explain, in part, why the debate on Flemish identity focuses less on issues other than language (e.g. social policy) when compared to, for example, the Québécois identity, which many Quebec politicians and civil society actors explicitly tie to progressive politics and social solidarity. Another nineteenth-century development involving the Flemish Movement, its link with the Catholic pillar of Belgian society, is relevant to understanding the nature of the contemporary connection between social policy and sub-state nationalism. This link can be readily explained by the socio-economic context of the time. Flanders was a largely rural region, and was therefore fertile ground for Catholic political ideas. It became, in fact, a Catholic stronghold, while industrialized Wallonia was more amenable to anti-clerical political traditions such as liberalism and socialism. For its part, the Flemish Movement was driven by ‘the educated lower middle class’ as well as by clerics. 22 These leaders of the movement established a connection between linguistic claims and moral values. ‘They . . . saw the language as the deposit and the protector of the Christian Flemish soul, as God had created it. . . . Survival of the language was seen as a vital element in the struggle for the survival of the people’s 20

Vincent Vagman, Le movement wallon et la question bruxelloise (1994). Maureen Covell cites former Prime Minister Théo Lefèvre. See ‘Ethnic Conflict, Representation and the State in Belgium’ (1985), 230. 22 Lieve Gevers, ‘The Catholic Church and the Flemish Movement’ (1998), 111. 21

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Catholic religion and tradition.’ 23 In short, a process similar to osmosis occurred between the Flemish Movement and Christian Democracy; Flemish nationalism became a Catholic movement and found support in a constellation of organizations surrounding the Catholic pillar. 24

Territorial Politics and Belgium’s Fragmented Social Insurance System Starting in 1894, the Belgian state subsidized mutualities (self-help associations) and other civil society organizations providing voluntary welfare to workers and their families. Rejecting the statist model of welfare that had recently emerged in Germany, Catholic politicians in power at the time supported the idea of ‘subsidized freedom’, which accommodated state subsidies to voluntary welfare organizations. Overall, subsidies favoured Catholic mutualities and pension funds, thus reinforcing the domination of the Catholic pillar in Belgian society. 25 Simultaneously, employers began to provide family allowances and other benefits to their employees, while labour unions put together their own unemployment funds in order to fight economic insecurity and increase their legitimacy among workers. On the whole, Belgium’s voluntarist welfare model mirrored the competition between the Catholic and Socialist pillars, as it did the struggle between employers and labour unions. During the first three decades of the twentieth century, the idea of social insurance proved extremely controversial, given the fear of statism of the above-mentioned private welfare providers. Labour unions, for example, resisted compulsory unemployment insurance in order to protect the autonomy of their own unemployment funds. Yet, more than a decade after the creation of a pension plan for mine workers, a compulsory old-age insurance scheme for manual workers was established in 1924. A year later, a similar scheme for wealthier wage workers was designed. In 1930, family allowances became the second element of the Belgian social insurance system. Almost unknown before the First World War, firm-sponsored family allowance schemes expanded rapidly during the 1920s. Despite business opposition to compulsory family allowances, labour unions and Catholic organizations successfully pushed for that type of measure. Yet employers would still finance and manage the family 23

24 Ibid. Louis Vos, ‘Le mouvement flamand: Un aperçu historique’ (1998), 63. Guy Vanthemsche, La sécurité sociale: Les origines du système belge. Le présent face à son passé (1994), 19. 25

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allowance funds they had originally established. In fact, public pensions and family allowances constituted the only two policy areas where social insurance triumphed before the Second World War. By 1940, the Belgian social policy system appeared as a fragmented order where employers, labour unions, mutualities, and other voluntary organizations played the most essential role. Before the Second World War, regional inequalities were not a crucial aspect of the Belgian debate over social policy. Overall, competition between pillars and the division between labour and capital were the most prominent and contentious issues in that debate. Yet in one policy area, family allowances, regional issues seemed increasingly significant throughout the 1930s. Because fertility remained higher in Flanders than in Wallonia, some Francophone voices denounced ‘unfair’ transfers from the industrial South to the more rural, and Catholic, North. 26 For their part, Flemish employers and labour officials asked for more, not less, redistribution. 27 Viewed as a reflection of the contemporary debate over social insurance and territorial redistribution in Belgium, this situation is rather ironic, and may help explain the outrage expressed by many Francophones over more recent calls for a reduction in North–South transfers. However, the tensions regarding family allowances never became central to the Flemish Movement and the debate over national unity in interwar Belgium. The modern social policy system that emerged immediately after the liberation of Belgium from Nazi occupation represented nothing more than an extension and a rationalization of the fragmented insurance schemes created during the first decades of the twentieth century. In fact, the term ‘welfare state’ is potentially misleading when applied to Belgium, partly because labour and business officials, rather than state representatives, manage the social insurance schemes consolidated by the Arrêté-Loi of December 1944. 28 During the Nazi occupation, secret meetings between employers, labour officials, and other social actors had taken place in order to prepare for the post-war reconstruction of the country. Because of the lack of consensus among these actors concerning the proper course of action, the Arrêté-Loi was a temporary executive order that became effective without any parliamentary vote. This lack of consensus mainly originated from the constituencies tied 26

On this issue, see Léon-Éli Troclet, La Wallonie et les allocations familiales (1939). Vanthemsche, La sécurité sociale, 170–1. 28 This is why the term welfare state is not used in this chapter to refer to the Belgian social insurance system. 27

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to existing insurance schemes. In the end, the institutional structures of the four main social insurance schemes of the post-war system (family allowances, health insurance, old-age insurance, and unemployment insurance) largely reflected the influence of these constituencies. 29 Labour unions, which controlled the pre-war unemployment funds, would still distribute unemployment benefits, while the powerful mutualities, most of them related to one of the three pillars, would continue to act as intermediaries between individuals and health care providers. Perhaps even more than in other Bismarckian (social insurance) countries like France and Germany, the extension of social insurance coverage during the post-war era took the form of a fragmented order in which mutualities and the social partners (business and labour organizations) played considerable administrative roles. Although the state collects contributions and participates in the financing of many social provisions, it is not perceived as the sole actor responsible for the management and the regulation of social programmes, as is the case in Canada and the United Kingdom. Perhaps because of the state’s lower profile, the concept of ‘Social Security’, and not ‘welfare state’, has been used to label Belgium’s social insurance system, which was developed above and beyond linguistic lines. In addition to that system, modest social assistance measures provided basic necessities to those not eligible for social insurance benefits. As is the case in most advanced industrialized countries, social insurance schemes expanded during the post-war era. Benefits were increased and coverage extended to protect a large majority of the population. During the 1960s, for example, independent workers gained social insurance coverage under distinct eligibility criteria that reinforced the institutional fragmentation of the Belgian social policy system. Yet the changes enacted during the 1950s and 1960s did little to reshape the basic architecture of the social insurance system that was developed as a temporary measure in 1944. Indeed, towards the end of the war, the absence of consensus between political parties, social partners, and other organizations belonging to the three pillars of Belgian society made comprehensive reforms unlikely. This situation contrasts with the one prevailing in the United Kingdom at the time, where centralized political power and the absence of formal social policy roles for labour and business interests facilitated the enactment of comprehensive, ground-breaking reforms in the second 29 In addition to these four policy areas, there are two other significant elements of the Belgian social insurance system: workers’ compensation and a plan providing for annual vacations.

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half of the 1940s (Chapter 3). The example of health care policy shows how difficult the enactment of major reforms was in post-war Belgium. Because of the struggle between Catholic and Socialist mutualities as well as the mobilization of doctors, more than fifteen years of bargaining and concessions were needed just to make the adoption of a relatively modest health care reform possible. And as Vanthemsche noted, even that compromised and complex, 1963 legislation (Loi Leburton) offered none of the interest groups total satisfaction. This great institutional complexity reinforced the impression that the Belgian health insurance system remained ‘unfinished’. 30 Overall, the consolidation of the Belgian social insurance system in the immediate post-war era played a significant role in defining a centralizing dynamic, as did the momentary struggles of the Flemish Movement that had to cope with the consequences of some organizations’ collaboration with Nazi Germany. 31 Yet, despite the Belgian, countrywide nature of the fragmented social insurance system, regional issues were not totally absent from the debate over social policy during the 1950s and early 1960s. In a book first published in 1949 and updated in 1961, for example, Léon-Éli Troclet maintained that regional transfers derived from social insurance generally favoured Flanders over Wallonia. During the 1950s, unemployment rates were higher in Flanders and, according to Troclet, more than 85 per cent of the unemployment benefits were distributed in that region. For Troclet, family allowances were another policy area where high-fertility Flanders benefited from significant inter-regional transfers. In the field of health insurance, however, he suggested that costs were proportionally higher in Wallonia. Troclet never criticized the scope of inter-regional transfers. 32 In recent years, however, his research, as well as the idea that Flanders benefited from territorial transfers before Wallonia’s economy began its downslide in the 1950s, has been challenged by a number of Flemish scholars. 33 What is certain is that the question of interregional transfers never became a major political issue at the time. Indeed, ideological conflicts related to business, labour, and pillar interests were 30

Vanthemsche, La sécurité sociale, 153. It is important to note that collaboration was not limited to the Flemish side. Moreover, the links between some Flemish nationalists and Nazi Germany were used by Francophone elites to discredit the Flemish Movement, and indeed Flanders, as a whole. 32 Léon-Éli Troclet, Problèmes belges de sécurité sociale (1949); and Problèmes généraux de la sécurité sociale en Belgique (1961). On this issue, see Etienne Arcq and Pierre Blaise, ‘Histoire politique de la sécurité sociale en Belgique,’ Revue belge de sécurité sociale 40 (1998): 479–712. 33 For example: Juul Hannes, De mythe van de omgekeerde transfers (2007). 31

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more central to the debate over social policy reform than were territorial inequalities, however they were perceived, in the distribution of social benefits. Beyond the politics of social policy, the post-war era also witnessed important structural economic changes in Belgium, which altered the direction of inter-regional transfers as well as power relations between Flanders and Wallonia. For over a century, Wallonia had been the economic motor of the country as a consequence of steel and coal industries resulting from precocious industrialization. Flanders, for its part, remained more rural and less prosperous. By the 1950s, the situation was changing to the point where, somewhere between 1965 and 1970, according to virtually all indicators, Flanders economically caught up with, and then overtook, Wallonia. For example, the gross regional product per capita and the average income per capita became higher in Flanders than in Wallonia in 1966–7, while unemployment in the South surpassed that in the North at around the same time. 34 This change was the result of a combination of factors. First and foremost, the heavy Walloon industries were increasingly ill-suited for a transforming European and world economy, and they had to face new competition from the Economic Community members. Flanders, for its part, had many low-wage workers available and, considering its lower rate of unionization, offered a more flexible labour market. As a result, foreign investment tended to make its way into Flanders rather than Wallonia in the post-war years. 35 According to Francophone elites, this was not unrelated to the new prominence of Flemings in the Belgian state apparatus (a consequence, as we saw, of universal suffrage, which increased the presence of the Flemish middle-class in public affairs). This new structural economic context was a significant factor in the institutional reforms that began in the 1970s and is an essential aspect supporting Flemish claims for the partial federalization of the Belgian social insurance system starting in the 1980s. In Belgium, the 1950s and 1960s were not all about social policy expansion and economic restructuring. In fact, the most crucial political development, at least from a short-term perspective, was the continuation, and indeed the escalation, of the conflict between Flemish and Francophone communities. Several events punctuated this escalation: the 34

See McRae, Conflict and Compromise in Multilingual Societies, 77–89. There was much American investment in Belgium during these years. On all these factors, see Xavier Mabille, Histoire politique de la Belgique. Facteurs et acteurs de changement, 323. 35

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1950 ‘royal question’ (question royale), which saw the King abdicating following violent demonstrations in Wallonia, despite the opposition of a majority of Flemings; the 1954 school struggles, where the Flemish Movement opposed the Socialist–Liberal coalition’s attempt to reduce support for Catholic education; the strike of 1960–1, whose lesser support in Flanders disillusioned Walloon union leaders about the unity of the country’s working class; the linguistic legislation of 1962–3, which led to serious confrontations about language in territories straddling the linguistic border and in Brussels; and finally, the crisis over the University of Louvain (Leuven) in 1967, which resulted in its splitting. 36 These crises reflected the logic of the Flemish Movement’s political action up to that point: the ‘royal question’, the school struggle, and the strike episode were about the balance of political power between language groups in the country, while the laws of 1962–3 and the Louvain issue featured the linguistic consolidation of Flanders. From this perspective, the claims of Flemish nationalism during this period focused primarily on language and culture rather than on social policy. Yet Flemish mobilization in the 1950s and the 1960s produced political and institutional changes instrumental in the eventual emergence of a connection between nationalism and social policy.

The Split of Political Parties and the Federalization of the State The political crises of the 1950s and 1960s impacted the future of Belgian politics significantly. Of foremost importance were the transformations it triggered in the country’s party system. Nationalist tensions benefited nationalist and regionalist parties that made electoral breakthroughs in 1965 and 1968. 37 The Flemish nationalist party Volksunie, created in 1954, won twelve and twenty seats in these respective elections, up from previous elections where it had won five in 1961 and only one in 1954 and 1958. The Walloon regionalist party Rassemblement wallon (RW), created in 1967, won seven seats in the 1968 election. The Front Démocratique des Francophones (FDF), founded in 1964 following the language legislation, garnered three and five seats. This sudden success of nationalist and regionalist parties produced tensions within the traditional parties 36 These events are discussed in many works on Belgian political history. See, for example, Witte, Craeybecks, and Meynen, Political History of Belgium. 37 See Pascal Delwit, ‘Elections et governments en Belgique depuis 1945’ (1996).

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as politicians were forced to pay attention to regional issues and adopt community-specific points of view. As a result, the traditional parties developed linguistic wings before splitting completely upon linguistic lines. The Christian Democrats split into the Parti social chrétien (PSC) and the Christelijke Volkspartij (CVP), the Socialists into the Parti socialiste (PS) and the Socialistische Partij (SP), and the Liberals into the Parti de la liberté et du progress (PLP) and the Partij voor Vrijheid en Vooruitgang (PVV). The Belgian Communist Party also split, while the Green parties (Groen!, created as Agalev, Flemish, and Ecolo, Francophone) were created as language-specific organizations. Also resulting from the inter-community tensions was the creation in 1978 of the far-right Flemish nationalist party Vlaams Blok (VB, now known as Vlaams Belang) from a Volksunie splinter group. The transformation of the Belgian party system had far-reaching political consequences. The split of parties along linguistic lines meant that Flemish parties did not need to concern themselves with the preferences of Francophone voters, and vice versa. The political dynamic generated by the change in the party system has been particularly significant for Flemish politics, since it allowed Flemish nationalism to be expressed with minimal consideration for what Francophone elites and voters might make of it. In other words, the parties’ split was conducive to the articulation, on the Flemish side, of various nationalist claims ranging from broad institutional reforms to the decentralization of particular policy areas. It is therefore no coincidence that, as we shall see, the first Flemish claims for the decentralization of the Belgian social insurance system were voiced in the 1980s, when all the political parties in Belgium had become language-specific. Still, on the Flemish side, the existence of languagespecific parties, as well as the nationalist Volksunie and Vlaams Blok, generated a phenomenon of outbidding, whereby the Christian Democrats and Liberals competed to appear to be the best defenders of Flemish interests. This is also relevant for understanding Flemish claims for the decentralization of the Belgian social insurance system because, as we will discuss shortly, these follow a Flemish rather than a Belgian political logic. Finally, the split of parties along language lines crystallized distinct Belgian publics and political arenas. This split in the party system, along with the federalization process, led to a dichotomization of the political arena that conditioned notions of solidarity central to current debates over the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system. The political upheavals of the 1950s and 1960s also paved the way for a series of state reforms that led to, without ending with, the formal 157


creation of a federation in 1993. 38 The process of federalization was incremental in the sense that it followed no specific design or clearly defined final objective. Political actors ‘muddled through’ as they delayed dealing with issues that seemed particularly tricky. Moreover, leaders of the two linguistic groups had different visions of the type of decentralized system they wanted or, at least, were willing to accept. Flemish leaders favoured a dualist system where sub-state governments would represent the two main language communities. This position reflected the traditional concern of the Flemish Movement for the protection and promotion of the Dutch language and the Flemish culture. On the Francophone side, the preoccupation was to provide autonomy to Wallonia for the purpose of removing decision-making authority regarding economic development from the hands of both Flemings and Francophone Brusselers. In this context, Walloon leaders favoured a tripartite model featuring Flanders, Wallonia, and Brussels. 39 The result was a compromise: Belgian federalism features two types of federated units—Communities and Regions. There are three Communities (Flemish, French, and German-speaking) that have power over ‘personalized matters’ (matières personnalisables), that is, policy areas such as education and social work where the delivery of services involves person-to-person contact. There are also three Regions (Wallonia, Flanders, and Brussels) that control more territorial issues such as economic development and transportation. Overall, the impact of state reforms on social policy has proven limited in scope because traditional social insurance schemes (Social Security) remain under federal jurisdiction. Yet, in contrast with the situation prevailing in the field of social insurance, the shift from a unitary to a federal state has transformed other social policy areas. First, tax-funded social assistance, as opposed to social insurance, is considered a ‘personalized matter’, and for that reason, Communities control that policy area. But the federal government still finances the ‘basic income’, a measure based on citizenship created in 1974 and transformed in 2002 (Revenu d’intégration sociale, formally Minimex). Second, health services constitute a ‘personalized matter’ that theoretically falls under Community jurisdiction. Because health insurance and basic health legislation are still federal matters, however, ‘a very large part of the health care policy remains at 38 For details on these reforms and their dynamics, see Rolf Falter, ‘Belgium’s Peculiar Way to Federalism’ (1998), 177–97. 39 There was also a strategic element to this choice since the existence of two Francophone units against only one Flemish unit could have been thought to structure political power to the advantage of Francophones.

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the federal level’. 40 Third, Communities have exclusive competence over family policy, including assistance to children and families. But family allowances, like all the other traditional social insurance schemes (Social Security), remain under federal jurisdiction. At the same time, constitutionally, nothing prevents Communities from implementing other types of child benefits that would fall beyond the scope of the existing Belgian social insurance system. Many aspects of employment policy fall under the Regions’ jurisdiction while others belong to the Communities (e.g. professional training). Yet the federal government still controls the crucial areas of labour law and unemployment insurance. Fourth, although Communities administer the field of old-age policy, social insurance oldage pensions as well as the minimum income for the elderly remain federal. Fifth, the federal state still manages workers’ compensations, which is part of the Belgian social insurance system. In sum, through the reproduction of this complex social insurance system, the bulk of social policy spending falls under federal jurisdiction, although Communities and Regions have gained constitutional power over significant policy areas such as social assistance, employment policy, and health services. As a result of the constitutional reforms enacted since 1970, Belgium presents a unique type of federalism. It is strongly decentralized, with justice and social insurance (with the exception of the Flemish dependency insurance discussed below) being the main jurisdictions left to the federal government. It is asymmetrical, as the Flemish Community and the Flemish Region have merged, whereas the Walloon Region and the French Community remain distinct entities. Belgian federalism is also organized non-hierarchically in so far as no government is politically subordinated to the other, and the division of power is, at least in theory, ‘watertight’ because competencies are distributed in an exclusive fashion. Perhaps most important is the general dynamic guiding Belgium’s state reform: Belgian federalism is about coming apart rather than coming together. These institutional transformations and dynamics are crucial for understanding the connection between Flemish nationalism and social policy that emerged in the 1980s. At the broadest level, the creation of a Flemish government and parliament served to strengthen a Flemish identity that was no longer dependent upon the more amorphous Flemish 40 Pierre Baudewyns and Régis Dandoy, ‘Federalism and Social Security in Belgium,’ 2003. See also Steven Vansteenkiste, De bevvoegdheidsverdeling in het federale Belgie; Het gezondheidsbeleid (2001).

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Movement. 41 Moreover, the new institutions never truly stemmed the tide of nationalist mobilization in Belgium; in fact, in many instances, they worked to stimulate nationalism as a form of politics in Flanders 42 instead, as political crises related to community issues (i.e. the relationship between Flemings and Francophones) kept erupting periodically throughout the 1980s and 1990s. This was largely the product of a dichotomized party system and the practice of the double mandate (eliminated in 1988) that led to a situation where there were no truly national politicians in Belgium, only regional ones. Today there is still virtually no distinct federal political scene because the discussion over policy issues occurs within two distinct party systems and publics. This stimulates, on the Flemish side, the crystallization of concrete positions surrounding the decentralization of most public policy areas, including social policy. Furthermore, political negotiations over questions of decentralization occur in a framework of intergovernmental relations 43 that primarily features bargaining between political parties and, to some extent, between federated units. Here again, unlike the situation in Canada, the federal government is largely absent as a moderating force struggling to counter claims for decentralization. After all, half of this government, in addition to the prime minister, is composed of Flemings who commonly have a different vision of federalism than do Francophones. Most Flemings view federalism as something fluid and in constant evolution while most Francophones hope that each new reform is the last one. Nationalist mobilization over social policy is symptomatic of this Flemish approach to Belgian federalism.

Nationalist Mobilization and the Debate Over the Federalization of Social Insurance As we have already noted, the Flemish Movement’s main preoccupation has always been the state of the Dutch language, initially in Belgium as a whole and then, more specifically, in Flanders and Brussels. Linguistic and cultural concerns were essential aspects of Flemish nationalism through 41 André Lecours, ‘Political Institutions, Elites, and Territorial Identity Formation in Belgium,’ National Identities 3 (2001): 51–68. 42 André Lecours, ‘Solving the Belgian Paradox: Political-Institutional Fragmentation, National Identity and Nationalist/Regionalist Politics,’ Canadian Review of Studies in Nationalism 29 (2002): 139–83. 43 See Johanne Poirier, ‘Formal Mechanisms of Intergovernmental Relations in Belgium,’ Regional and Federal Studies 12 (2002): 24–54.

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the 1980s and 1990s; they remain so today. For example, in the 1980s, the town of Fourons (Voeren), transferred from Wallonia to Flanders in 1963 when the ‘language border’ was officially established, was at the centre of several political crises when its mayor, José Happart, refused to use Dutch in official proceedings as the law required. 44 In the late 1990s, the situation of the 100,000 or so Francophones living in Flanders on the periphery of Brussels (or, from the Flemish perspective, on Flanders’ periphery, Vlaams Rand) became an explosive political issue. The Flemish government openly declared that this population’s language facilities (e.g. access to administrative services in French) were temporary whereas Francophones view them as permanent. Later on, in the 2004 regional elections and the 2007 federal elections, Flemish politicians requested the division of the electoral district of Brussel/Bruxelles-Halle-Vilvoorde. 45 Starting in the 1980s, the agenda of Flemish nationalism became more complex. While the Flemish nationalist movement retained its focus on language and culture as core elements of mobilization and identity, an increasing number of references to social policy developed. Three factors shed light on this change in the political agenda of Flemish nationalism. First, the gradual inversion in economic fortunes between Flanders and Wallonia made Flemish parties and other organizations pay attention to the policy implications of structural change, especially financial redistribution between Regions. Second, the process of state reform coincided with an increased focus on the issue of which level of government should control specific policy areas. Third, the traditional Flemish objective of linguistic and cultural protection was largely achieved. The Flemish case supports our contention that nationalist movements make social programmes a target for political mobilization. The first signs of a connection between Flemish nationalism and social policy were a series of studies, most frequently commissioned by Flemish organizations and conducted by Flemish academics, detailing the financial flux between Flanders and Wallonia stemming from existing social insurance schemes. Not all such studies, however, originated with Flemings. In reaction to the implications of Flemish reports on the financial flux inherent to the Belgian social insurance system, Francophone political actors also commissioned similar studies. The light these studies shed on our understanding of the political dynamics informing the connection between 44 In contrast, the transfer of Comines from Flanders to Wallonia posed virtually no problem. 45 This bilingual electoral district enables Francophones in the periphery to vote for members of Parliament who sit in the French-speaking group.

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Flemish nationalism and social policy is not their scientific merit, 46 but rather their implications and how they are used in the political debate. In other words, studies on financial transfers are political in nature, and they play a significant role in agenda-setting and framing processes. The very idea of conducting such research presupposes the making of a political argument. Otherwise, there is no point in identifying ‘net payers’ and ‘net receivers’ in the form of territorial units. The following discussion is therefore aimed at demonstrating how these studies have informed claims and counter-claims about the federalization of Belgian social insurance schemes. It also illustrates how Flemish nationalism played an agendasetting role in social policy in so far as it questioned the legitimacy of the Belgian federal government to regulate social insurance programmes and raised the question of which territorial authority should regulate these matters. The first Flemish studies on inter-regional financial transfers via existing social insurance schemes appeared in the early 1980s. 47 In 1984, one such study conducted by Michel Dethée highlighted a discrepancy between the social insurance revenues and expenditures ratio between Wallonia and Flanders. 48 The author’s conclusion was that Wallonia’s per capita social insurance (Social Security) expenditures were 19 per cent higher than were Flanders’. 49 The greatest discrepancies were found in disability benefits, unemployment insurance, and work-related illnesses. 50 This is hardly surprising considering that Wallonia’s economic development had focused largely on heavy industries like steel and coal. In this context, Walloon workers were particularly susceptible to serious diseases and crippling injuries as well as to job loss, in part because the structure 46 This is very difficult to assess and is certainly not our current focus. This being said, there is significant academic literature on fiscal federalism in Belgium addressing these issues. See, for example, Magali Verdonck and Kris Deschouwer, ‘Patterns and Principles of Fiscal Federalism in Belgium,’ Regional & Federal Studies 13 (2003): 91–110. 47 For example, Van Rompuy and A. Verheirstraten, ‘Regionale Herverdelings- en financieringstromen,’ Leuvense Economische Standpunten,14, KULeuven, CES (1979); Van Rompuy, A. Verheirstraten, and F. Uyttenbrouk, De Regionalisering van de Onver-beidsontvangsten enuitgaven en de interregionale financiële stromen 1975–1978, KULeueven, CES (1980); Gewestelijke Ekonomische Raad voor Vlaanderen (GERV), Regionalisering van de Uitgaven en de Uitvangsten inzake Sociale Zekerheid, periode 1975–1981, GERV-Berichten, 40 (1983). For a good discussion of these studies and, more generally, of inter-regional financial transfers in Belgium, see Bea Cantillon et al., ‘Social Redistribution in Federalised Belgium,’ West European Politics 29, 5 (2006): 1034–56. 48 M. Dethée, Een Regionale Analyse van de Sociale Zekerheid in België, GERV-Berichten, 45 (1984). This study was updated in 1990. 49 See Simon Leblanc, ‘La fédéralisation de la sécurité sociale,’ Courier hebdomadaire du CRISP, 1282–3 (1990), 25. 50 Ibid.

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of the European economy had shifted away from Wallonia’s traditional strengths. In 1989–90, the Centrum voor Sociaal Beleid put the difference in per capita social insurance expenditures between Flanders and Wallonia closer to 30 per cent, with the greatest discrepancy found in 1988 in the unemployment insurance sector. 51 At the same time, an analysis by Paul van Rompuy comparing inter-regional distribution of social insurance (Social Security) deficits (contributions minus paid benefits) between 1975 and 1985 showed that Wallonia’s share was larger than Flanders’ for almost every year, with the difference peaking in 1984 and 1985. 52 Still in 1989–90, the Club van Leuven published a document on North–South social insurance transfers that became quite influential in the evolution of the political debate over social insurance reform in Belgium. 53 This study made the claim that after income tax had been paid and benefits received, Walloons had more disposable income than Flemings despite lower wages and higher unemployment. 54 This appeared as a striking paradox that could be nicely seized upon by the more nationalist political actors in Flanders. Flemish experts have since published several other studies purporting the same claim: Flanders finances a significant portion of Wallonia’s social expenditures. 55 Francophone experts have produced fewer studies on the financial transfers inherent to the Belgian social insurance system. This is easily understandable as Francophones potentially had much to lose politically from the documentation of inter-regional discrepancies. However, as claims for the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system were gaining momentum on the Flemish side, Francophones were forced to engage in the discussion if only to explain these discrepancies, or better still, minimize their extent. In the late 1980s, the Walloon government commissioned its own report. Interestingly, the numbers presented were 51 H. Deleeck, L. De Lathouwer, and K. Van den Bosch, ‘Verschillen in Sociale Zekerheid tussen Wallonie en Vlaanderen, Feiten en Oorzaken,’ Economisch en Sociaal Tijdschrift (1989), 1; L. De Lathouwer, Verschillen in Sociale Zekerheid tussen Vlaanderen en Wallonie: 1985–1988, 5 April 1990. 52 Paul van Rompuy, ‘10 jaar financiële stromen tussen de Gewesten in België,’ Leuvense Economische Standpunten, 45, KULeuven, CES, July 1998. 53 André Alen, et al., Club van Leuven: Vlaanderen ope en Kruitpunt, Sociologische, Economische, en staatrechtelijke perspectiven (1990). 54 Johanne Poirier and Steven Vansteenkiste, ‘Le débat sur la fédéralisation de la sécurité sociale en Belgique: Le miroir du vouloir-vivre ensemble?’ Revue belge de sécurité sociale 2 (2000): 331–79. 55 G. Dottermans, ‘Financiële stromen tussen de gewesten in België 1955–1975,’ Brussels: Documentatieblad, Ministerie van Financiën, 1997, 23–216; E. De Boeck and J. Van Gompel, Financiële stromen tussen de Belgische Gewesten opnieuw bekeken (1998), 213–33.

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similar to those featured in studies conducted by the Flemish. 56 Yet the argument formulated in the Walloon report was different. The authors argued that differences in per capita social insurance (Social Security) spending between Flanders and Wallonia (19.5 per cent) derived primarily from structural differences: Wallonia had more disabled people, retirees, and widows than Flanders. 57 They suggested that, when such factors were adjusted for, discrepancies fell to 9.8 per cent. 58 A 2003 study conducted by the Catholic mutuality makes a similar argument. 59 The purpose of this type of analysis is to counter, at least partially, Flemish contentions that Walloons waste and over-consume social insurance benefits. In this context, Walloon commentators have argued that the transfers are ‘justified’. 60 Other work from Francophone experts on the territorial dimension of social insurance, although it acknowledges the existence of substantial North–South transfers, produced lower figures than Flemish studies. 61 It also tends to point towards a long-term levelling of social insurance (Social Security) spending levels as the Walloon economy slowly recovers. 62 Moreover, the discussion amongst Francophones tends to revolve around the notion of solidarity, rather than transfer in the narrower sense of the term. By changing the focus to the issue of social solidarity, Francophone experts seek to contextualize economic data and offer a normative, if not an ethical, perspective that assigns it a positive meaning. In other words, Francophones have tended to answer Flemish studies exposing North–South discrepancies around social insurance by stressing the imperatives of social solidarity and shared Belgian citizenship. For some Francophone experts, the issue of solidarity has been part of a larger analysis of the financing of Regions and Communities. 63 This is hardly surprising as the adequate financing of Communities is really what Francophones would prefer to be debating, because many policy areas (e.g. education) have needed money urgently. 56 Defeyt, S. Loumaye, Reman, De la regionalisation de la sécurité sociale à la communication des soins de santé, IRES, Final report, 9 May 1988, cited in Leblanc, ‘La fédéralisation de la sécurité sociale,’ 26. 57 58 Ibid. Ibid. 59 Vincent Rocour, ‘Les transferts Nord-Sud enfin justifiés,’ La Libre Belgique, 19 October 2003. 60 Ibid. 61 See, for example, Philippe Cattoir and Frédéric Docquier, ‘Sécurité sociale et solidarité interrégionale,’ in Frédéric Docquier (ed.), La solidarité entre les régions: Bilans et perspectives (1999), 228. 62 Ibid., 243. 63 See, for example, Giuseppe Pagano, Le financement des regions et des communautés 1970– 2002. Solidarité, responsabilité, autonomie et concurrence fiscale (2002).

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It is important to stress that all these studies are not simply conversations among academics. They have been central in shaping the connection between Flemish nationalism and social policy in two ways. First, they helped transform the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system into a noteworthy item on the Belgian policy agenda, although this was arguably not until the 1990s. For example, the constitutional reform of 1988 stipulated that traditional social insurance (Social Security) was the exclusive jurisdiction of the central state, an addition that was completely uncontested. 64 Second, studies on inter-regional transfers informed many of the arguments used on both sides of the linguistic border for justifying claims and counter-claims about the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system. There are two main Flemish arguments for the federalization of some aspects of the Belgian social insurance system. The first is the ‘subsidiarity’ idea, that is, the argument that social policy in Flanders should reflect the preferences of Flemings, which means that it should be crafted by the Flemish government. This notion has a definite federal logic to it, although it also reflects nationalist thinking in so far as the need for autonomy in the social policy area hinges on a fundamental difference between two communities, a national difference. The second argument stems from the most basic conclusion of all studies conducted on the territorial dimension of social insurance: there are implicit financial transfers from Flanders to Wallonia inherent to its mechanisms. 65 This argument accentuates a subtle slip from a Belgium-wide conception of social solidarity to an inter-community one. It emphasizes that territorial transfers occur in virtually all components of the Belgian social insurance system: health care, unemployment, work-related and disability benefits, pensions, and family allowances. According to some scholars, Flanders experiences a positive social insurance (Social Security) cash flow only for early retirement benefits. 66 The Flemish argument that power over 64 An alternative interpretation of the 1988 constitutional stipulation that payroll tax– funded social insurance (Social Security) rested with the federal government could be that, by that time, the issue needed specifying because of the beginning of a debate over which level of government should run parts of it. However, as we said in the text, there is no real evidence of this. Rather, it is more likely that the process of federalization as whole was seen to require constitutional specification of power in various fields. 65 At an empirical level, Brussels also factors in, sometimes as a payer and other times as a receiver, depending on the particular social programme. At the level of discourse, at least from the Flemish side, the picture presented is more dichotomous, that is, involving Wallonia and Brussels. 66 See, for example, Cattoir and Docquier, ‘Sécurité sociale et solidarité interrégionale,’ 250–1.

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existing social insurance schemes should be given to the Communities is profoundly nationalist, underpinned by the idea that Francophone Belgians are outsiders. In most societies, redistribution is easier to legitimize when it is viewed as occurring within the national community, or in other words, between people who feel a special unifying bond, despite never having met. 67 The social insurance system is problematic in Belgium because many members of the Flemish economic and political elite view it as incongruent with existing linguistic and national boundaries. In this context, federalizing that system makes sense because it would serve to bring redistribution and solidarity within the parameters of the Flemish nation. To mobilize public opinion in support of the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system, Flemish nationalists have constructed a specific discourse to frame statistics regarding regional transfers. At the centre of this discourse is the idea that Walloons willingly overuse countrywide social insurance benefits or, alternatively, that their culture encourages them to do so. From this perspective, regarding of the health insurance system, Walloons are said to ‘cost’ more as a result of negative lifestyles and a propensity for readily consulting specialists rather than generalists. This type of argument is often accompanied by a comparative examination of the consumption of specific, and expensive, medical practices such as magnetic resonance imaging (MRI). With respect to unemployment benefits, Wallonia is frequently associated with a culture of dependency: Walloons are therefore depicted either as cunningly exploiting the state’s generosity or as being quite content to live off it. This ideological framework provides explosive material to generate support for federalizing the Belgian social insurance system. To accentuate these financial transfers, the nationalist slogan has been that, every year, every Flemish family pays for a new car for a Walloon family. 68 Flemish leaders have used at least two other types of arguments to frame the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system positively. One of these consists of a series of cultural references. 69 At the broadest level is the idea that Flemings are more efficient than Walloons. This is at the 67 This is why explicit solidarity transfers in federal nation-states like Germany are not as controversial as one would originally expect. 68 Bénédicte Vaes, ‘Un divorce de la sécurité sociale?’ in Marco Martiniello and Marc Swyngedouw (eds.), Où va la Belgique? Les soubresauts d’une petite démocratie européenne (1998), 174. Of course, this type of slogan is the work of the more radical elements of Flemish nationalism for whom the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system would be nearly a step towards independence. 69 On Flemish-Walloon perceptions and stereotypes more generally, see Denise Van Dam and Jean Nizet, Wallonie, Flandre. Des regards croisés (2002).

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centre of another Flemish slogan used by some nationalist politicians: ‘What we do ourselves, we do better’ (Wat we zelf doen, doen we beter). Such a saying has not been articulated specifically in reference to the Belgian social insurance system; rather, it has been used by these politicians to justify decentralist claims over various policy areas. 70 However, its logic seems particularly apt at capturing the issue many Flemish leaders say is involved in the territorial dimension of that system, namely that Walloons overspend while Flemings are more frugal. In this context, the debate over the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system offers much potential to feed the Flemish identity by ascribing to it values of efficiency and individual autonomy. Above and beyond the efficiency argument are some characterizations of national cultures and characters. Concerning health insurance, Flemish nationalists have argued that federalization would allow both communities to adapt service delivery to their own preferences. 71 In this context, Flemings are said to have an inclination for front-line medicine while Walloons would be more comfortable going to big hospitals. The cultural argument also extends to unemployment. This is where the different ideological leanings of Flanders and Wallonia come strongly into play as the picture of Flemings-as-entrepreneurs is contrasted with that of Walloonsas-welfare-recipients. More practically, Flemish leaders have highlighted differences in policy preferences with Walloons that the multinational nature of Belgium explains, at least in part. Influenced by developments in the Netherlands and the United Kingdom, Flemish politicians have latched onto the concept of the ‘active state’ and sought to design unemployment policies that provide incentives for recipients to actively seek work. In response, Francophones have basically defended the traditional Belgian model where unemployment and social assistance benefits are perceived as social rights, not conditional entitlements. Finally, Flemish leaders have also argued that the Belgian social insurance system (Social Security) should be federalized as a matter of institutional congruence. 72 The idea here is that many policy areas related to social affairs (the so-called personalized matters) have already been 70 Jan Erk, “‘Wat We Zelf Doen, Doen We Beter:” Belgian Substate Nationalisms, Congruence and Public Policy,’ Journal of Public Policy 23 (2003): 201–24. Again, slogans like this tend to present caricatures of a community. The quote goes back to the first Flemish Prime Minister Gaston Geens who said: ‘Wij zullen moeten bewijzen dat wij wat we zelf doen, beter doen’ which can be translated as: ‘We will have to prove that what we do ourselves, we do better’. We want to thank Steven Vansteenkiste for insight into the origins of this slogan. 71 Poirier and Vansteenkiste, ‘Le débat sur la fédéralisation,’ 348–9. 72 Kristian Orsini, ‘La défédéralisation des soins de santé: Existe-t-il un consensus dans les revendications flamandes?’ Reflets et perspectives 43, 3 (2004): 121.

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decentralized to Communities, leading to some incoherence. 73 For example, health care is a federal power, but preventative medicine is a Community prerogative. Family and child policy fall within the Communities’ jurisdiction, while family allowances fall within the federal government’s. This argument might appear technical at first glance, yet it often follows a nationalist logic, suggesting that the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system is the next, indeed a critical, step in the construction of a de facto Flemish state. 74 On the Francophone side, the first reaction to the Flemish discourse about North–South transfers via the Belgian social insurance system was to invoke the concept of solidarity. 75 Francophones pointed out that for more than 120 years, Wallonia had been the economic motor of the country, generating wealth for the whole of Belgium. Much of this economic activity, the argument goes, was produced by miners and steel workers who were now in need of traditional social insurance benefits to cope with the subsequent unemployment and work-related illnesses. From this perspective, the behaviour of Flemings currently seeking federalization of the Belgian social insurance system is described as selfish and unfair. Much like the Flemish rhetoric on territorial transfers, the Francophone viewpoint is rooted in nationalism, except that it is Belgian, not Flemish, nationalism. Indeed, for most Francophones, the territorial transfers occur within the Belgian national community, albeit across linguistic lines. For them, territorial discrepancies in redistribution are unproblematic as all Belgian citizens have the responsibility to show solidarity independently of linguistic differences. The Francophone struggle against the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system is not purely about financial loss. Of course, such reform would certainly hurt Wallonia, 76 if only because its unemployment rate is much higher than Flanders’ (typically twice as high). Yet, focusing exclusively on the economic and fiscal consequences of 73 For a social scientific discussion of this issue see Cantillon et al., ‘Social Redistribution in Federalised Belgium’; Stefaan de Rynck and Karolien Dezeure, ‘Policy Convergence and Divergence in Belgium: Education and Health Care,’ West European Politics 29,5 (2006): 1018– 33. 74 We understood from our interviews that Francophone politicians typically feel like the argument of congruence from the Flemish side is formulated a posteriori to the conclusion that the Belgian social insurance system should be decentralized, that is, that the ‘need for congruence’ serves as a technical justification for an outcome that is favoured as a result of Flemish nationalism. 75 Poirier and Vansteenkiste, ‘Le débat sur la fédéralisation,’ 331–79. 76 Jean-Michel Lalieu, ‘Montée du nationalisme flamand. La Wallonie peut-elle vivre sans la Flandre?’ Tendances 17 (June 2004): 44–9.

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federalization, overlooks its larger political implications as well as its potential impact on Francophones’ identity and perceptions. As we just noted, many Flemish politicians view the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system as the next step in building a more autonomous Flanders. For example, some Flemish Liberal and Christian Democratic politicians have mused about a confederal model encompassing Flanders and Wallonia, with Brussels being co-managed or given some type of European district status. Francophones overwhelmingly oppose this vision for Belgium. In this context, and considering that social insurance (with the relatively recent exception of the Flemish dependency insurance) is one of the few policy areas still under the legislative authority of the central government, Francophone leaders view any serious attempt to split the countrywide social insurance system as tantamount to a declaration of (political) war. In other words, this system represents for Francophones one of the last meaningful ties holding the country together; it is therefore a strong symbol for their enduring Belgian identity (meaning their identification with the federal state). This is a relatively recent phenomenon because, as opposed to the situation in Canada and the United Kingdom, post-war social policy expansion did not significantly impact Belgium’s national identity. The high level of occupational and institutional fragmentation of the Belgian social insurance system and the control of class-based and ideologically based (Catholic or secular) social partners explain in part this lack of strong connections between national identity and social policy in post-war Belgium. Indeed, while social solidarity crossed the linguistic divide, it was structured along pillars and types of employment. This was not interpreted, however, as a challenge to Belgian national solidarity until the divide became Flemish–Francophone. 77 Beyond the traditional notion of solidarity, Francophones developed other arguments in their struggle against Flemings pushing for the splitting of the Belgian social insurance system. Studies by Francophone experts sometimes dispute the numbers put forward by Flemish experts, suggesting that transfers between the two Regions are in fact less substantial than is commonly argued in Flanders. Francophones frequently make the argument that if socio-economic variables such as income and unemployment are controlled, the inter-regional transfers practically disappear. In other words, the inter-regional discrepancies would not be attributable 77 Johanne Poirier, ‘Protection sociale et (dé)construction de la citoyenneté dans les fédérations multinationales’ (2007): 195–214.

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to waste on the Walloon side. 78 They also suggest that the type of social insurance decentralization towards the Communities proposed by Flemish political actors would be unworkable in Brussels because it would create differentiated social insurance schemes there. Francophone parties have also pushed the idea that there is as much discrepancy between Flemish provinces 79 as there is between Flanders and Wallonia, and that the inter-regional focus is therefore undeserved. From this perspective, many members of the Francophone political arena speculate gleefully that, if the Belgian social insurance system were federalized, holes would quickly appear in Flemish solidarity. 80 All these arguments have been used by Francophone political parties to counter Flemish claims for the decentralization of the Belgian social insurance system. The PS, Mouvement réformateur (MR), Centre Démocrate Humaniste (CDH), and Ecolo 81 have shared a similar position on this question ever since it appeared on the political agenda: they oppose any transfer of responsibility to the Communities or Regions. The PS has even suggested the creation of a federal programme designed to cover the nonmedical expenses of people who are totally or partially dependent of the support of others in everyday life activities such as bathing, clothing, and eating. 82 This would actually mean reversing the decentralization of an element peripheral to the existing Belgian social insurance system because the Flemish government already established such a programme in 1999 (see below). Obviously, the PS project is unlikely to ever be achieved considering the political dynamic in Belgium and the fact that the Constitutional Court has confirmed the constitutionality of the Communitybased programme in a 2001 judgement. The PS proposal is nonetheless revealing of the potential for Flemish nationalism to set the social policy agenda for Francophone parties, as there is increased policy divergence between Flanders and Wallonia. In the particular case of the dependency insurance scheme, Francophone politicians insist there is no money to duplicate the Flemish initiative in Wallonia; in this context, using the federal state is the only option. As a result of their common positioning on 78 We have also heard Francophones argue that the long-term trend is towards a closing of the gap as Wallonia’s economy is improving while Flanders’ stagnated. There is, however, no visible basis for this argument. 79 Provinces are administrative units that pre-date Regions and Communities. 80 These comments were gathered from several interviews conducted in Brussels in the summer of 2004. 81 MR and CDH are new names for the Francophone Liberal and Christian Democratic parties. 82 Parti socialiste, Le Progrès pour tous: Projet PS 2003, 41.

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the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system, and sensing the need for an organized common front against Flemish politicians on this issue, Francophone parties in search of fresh perspectives have cooperated to develop counter-arguments to the Flemish discourse. 83 When it comes to the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system, the basic political strategy for Francophone parties is to avoid addressing the issue publicly. For example, in their 2003 platform, the PS and MR—the two main Francophone parties—took one small paragraph to state that they would not open negotiations that could lead to the (even partial) split of the Belgian social insurance system. 84 The picture is more nuanced on the Flemish side. The first parties to come out in support of the federalization of that system were, unsurprisingly, the nationalist Volksunie and Vlaams Blok. 85 Already in the late 1980s, Volksunie was recommending splitting the Belgian social insurance system in a series of proposals that would have left the central government with but one responsibility: to set minimum standards for benefits and other basic shared regulations. 86 The arguments put forward by Volksunie were later to be taken up and developed by several different political actors. Federalizing the social insurance system would eliminate waste, and Flanders would be able to tailor health care to its front-line approach to the delivery of services. 87 Most importantly, however, is the straightforward nationalist argument: Wallonia takes more from the Belgian social insurance system than it contributes, and federalization would allow Flemish workers to keep the fruits of their labour. 88 For the Volksunie, solidarity was a community, rather than a Belgian, notion, as would be expected from a Flemish nationalist party, even one with socialdemocratic roots. Volksunie’s political fortunes began to look bleak starting in the late 1970s and early 1980s. From 16 per cent support in Flanders in 1977,

83 We gathered this information by interviewing officials from the PS and MR in the spring of 2004. 84 For PS, Ibid., 104; for MR, La vision et le programme des réformateurs, http://www.mr. be/docs/du_coeur_a_l_ouvrage.pdf [accessed 11 July 2005] 85 By the early 1990s, several Flemish organizations had also voiced clear support for the federalization of at least some parts of the Belgian social insurance system: Caritas Catholica Vlaanderen (a Christian-Democratic organization); Vlaams Geneesherenverbond (a doctors’ association); and Vereniging Vlaamse Ziekenfondsen (a grouping of mutualities). 86 Leblanc, ‘La fédéralisation de la sécurité sociale,’ 13. 87 Volksunie over Rapport Plan Bureau, Federalisering bidet de oplossing, Gazet van Antwerpen, 23 January 1990, cited in Leblanc, ‘La fédéralisation de la sécurité sociale,’ 13. 88 Jaak Gabriëls, De Standaard, May 2, 1990, cited in Leblanc, ‘La fédéralisation de la sécurité sociale,’ 14.

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Volksunie fell to 7 per cent in the 1995 federal elections. 89 This loss of popularity was the result of at least three factors. The first was the creation of the far-right Vlaams Blok from a Volksunie splinter group in 1979. The second was ongoing tensions within the party between two currents: one focusing on regional issues first and foremost, and the other stressing progressive politics. The third was the paradox of a party having lost its raison d’être after achieving its programme (federalism). Despite Volksunie’s steady electoral decline, its importance in Flemish politics, and for the debate over the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system in particular, should not be underestimated. Indeed, Volksunie put pressure on the traditional Flemish parties to radicalize their positions, that is, to become more nationalist. In this context, the Liberals, Christian Democrats, and even the Socialists had to take into consideration its claims for splitting the Belgian social insurance system. In the mid-1990s, for example, Volksunie was directly responsible for the commission by the Flemish government of a crucial study examining various options regarding the federalization of social insurance, as it made its support for the 1993 constitutional revision conditional on such an initiative. In the late 1990s and early 2000s, Volksunie imploded, leaving other Flemish parties vying for its splinter groups. 90 The most nationalist of these splinter groups, Nieuw-Vlaams Alliantie (N-VA), formed an electoral cartel with the Christian Democrats, now called Christendemocratisch en Vlaams (CD&V), while the progressive-minded group, Spirit, did the same with the Socialists, now called Socialistische Partij Anders (SP.A). Other former Volksunie politicians joined the Liberals, Vlaamse Liberalen en Democraten (VLD), and Agalev. This dispersal of Volksunie elements served to strengthen the nationalist aspect of other Flemish parties. Contrary to Volksunie, the Vlaams Blok’s popularity experienced a steady rise, peaking at 24 per cent for the 2004 Community elections; this made it the second party in Flanders behind the CD&V/N-VA cartel. The Vlaams Belang, as the Vlaams Blok was renamed in 2004, 91 supports the full federalization of the Belgian social insurance system as a second-best scenario to independence. The party’s literature makes it abundantly clear that it

89 Pascal Delwit, Composition, décomposition et recomposition du paysage politique en Belgique (2003), 53. 90 Serge Govaert, La Volksunie: Du déclin à la disparition (1993–2001) (2002). 91 Jan Erk, ‘From Vlaams Blok to Vlaams Belang: Belgian Far-Right Renames Itself,’ West European Politics 28, 3 (2005): 493–502.

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considers Flemings and Walloons 92 to belong to two different nations. 93 Therefore, Flemish social solidarity does not, and should not, extend to Francophones; rather, Flemings should treat Belgian Francophones with no more generosity than they treat foreigners. The far-right party uses strong anti-Walloon rhetoric as it speaks of ‘rivers of money’ (geldstromen) flowing from Flanders to Wallonia where it gets lost in a society suffering from chronic waste and a culture of dependence. 94 One can argue that the Vlaams Blok/Vlaams Belang has played on a collective fear of losing the generous benefits offered by a social insurance system whose politics is divided by a language barrier. 95 The Vlaams Belang is also a powerful voice for the articulation of stereotypes around social policy: the Fleming is depicted as an autonomous and hard-working entrepreneur, the Walloon as a lazy welfare recipient. The Vlaams Blok/Vlaams Belang was created first and foremost as a Flemish nationalist party, but it quickly developed a populist antiimmigration agenda. Current academic wisdom is that the bulk of its popularity is owed to its anti-immigration stance. 96 Yet this party comes as one package, and its popularity forces other Flemish parties to radicalize their positions, not only with respect to immigration issues but also those relating to the community question. In other words, the importance of the Vlaams Blok/Vlaams Belang in featuring social policy into Flemish nationalist mobilization should not be understood strictly in terms of its electoral strength. Rather, from an agenda-setting perspective, the Vlaams Blok/Vlaams Belang has had a tremendous pull effect on other Flemish parties, which could not remain oblivious to the far-right party’s growing popularity. The Liberals and Christian Democrats were the first two traditional parties to endorse the federalization of social insurance, albeit only partially. In the early 1990s, some Flemish Liberal and Christian Democratic politicians declared the issue ‘negotiable’. 97 By the mid-1990s, both parties firmly supported the partial federalization of the Belgian social insurance system. Contrary to the Volksunie and Vlaams Blok, the Christian

92 The Vlaams Blok/Vlaams Belang does not make a distinction between Walloons and Francophones, referring to all Francophones as Walloons. 93 See the party programme, Vlaams Blok, Een toekomst voor Vlaanderen, 2003, 1–5. 94 95 Ibid., 7. Manu Claeys, Le Vlaams Blok en chacun de nous (2003). 96 Marc Swyngedouw and Gilles Ivaldi, ‘The Extreme Right Utopia in Belgium and France: The Ideology of the Flemish Vlaams Blok and the French Front National,’ West European Politics 24 (2001): 1–22. 97 This paragraph draws from Leblanc, ‘La fédéralisation de la sécurité sociale,’ 15.

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Democrats focused on two elements of that system which they argued should be federalized: health insurance and family allowances. As parties that participated, or aspired to participate, in government, the CVP and VLD had to adopt a more pragmatic position than Volksunie and Vlaams Blok. Health insurance and family allowances were good choices since they could be decentralized without much ‘spillover’ into other policy areas. Of the CVP and the VLD, it was the Christian Democratic Party who took the lead in pushing social insurance reform to the forefront of nationalist mobilization in Flanders. The stance of the CVP was particularly significant because it was a mainstay of federal and Flemish governments until 1999. More specifically, it was the core of the government that commissioned the Vlaamse Onderzoeksgroep Sociale Zekerheid 2002 to conduct a study laying out scenarios and options for the federalization of various aspects of the Belgian social insurance system. 98 Building on this study, this CVP-led government then produced a document arguing for competencies in federal Belgium to be ‘homogeneous’, or congruent. 99 The Flemish Christian Democrats became, in the 1990s, the effective leaders of the movement towards a federalization of the Belgian social insurance system as they took a decided nationalist turn. This perspective was best embodied by the Flemish Minister-President Luc Van den Brande, for whom ‘confederalism’ was the model that best corresponded to the political aspirations of Flanders. 100 In its programme for the 2003 federal election, the CD&V (former CVP) still supported a confederal arrangement whereby health, family, and employment policies would be competencies assumed by the new states. 101 The Volksunie splinter group, N-VA, which is linked to the CD&V through an electoral cartel, demonstrated similar priorities. 102 The Flemish Liberals (VLD) also firmly supported the partial federalization of the Belgian social insurance system from the mid-1990s on. Its programme for the 2003 federal elections was, when it comes to this issue, 98 Poirier and Vansteenkiste, ‘Le débat sur la fédéralisation,’ 348. The reference for the final study is Danny Pieters, Federalisme voor onze sociale zekerheid. Beleidconclusies van de Voorzitter van de Vlaams Onderzoeksgroep 2002 (1994). As we have previously stated, it was Volksunie that truly instigated this study as it made its support of the 1993 reform of the state conditional upon it. 99 Poirier and Vansteenkiste, ‘Le débat sur la fédéralisation,’ 348. The reference for this document is Homogene Bevoegdheidspakketten, Bijdrage van het Ministerie van de Vlaamse Gemeenschap, 1995. 100 Jos Bouveroux, ‘Nationalism in Present-Day Flanders,’ 216. 101 Serge Govaert, Les programmes des partis flamands pour les élections du 18 mai, 2003 (2003), 8. 102 Ibid.

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similar to the CD&V’s in so far as its favoured decentralizing the same social policy areas. After their arrival in the Flemish government in 1999, however, the Liberals did not give the question of federalizing the Belgian social insurance system, or further decentralization more generally, quite the prominence it had under Christian Democratic leadership. The VLD does not focus its discourse around the theme of confederalism nearly to the extent of the CD&V. For example, there was no reference to this concept in its 2003 programme. 103 In the case of the VLD, there is a clear link between ideological leanings and the federalization process. The VLD espouses a neo-liberal model of economic regulation. Consequently, it is a particularly strong proponent of the idea that Wallonia is an economic wasteland plagued by a socialist and dependency-oriented culture. In this context, the VLD finds the North–South social insurance (Social Security) transfers particularly insufferable. Moreover, the VLD seeks a reform of the Belgian social insurance system that would bring it in line with its principles of personal autonomy and limited state intervention. As long as traditional social insurance (Social Security) is a federal prerogative, any such move is problematic because it would likely involve obtaining the support of the PS, the strongest party within the Francophone world. Of course, the PS is an ardent defender of the status quo with respect to both reform and federalization. The position of the SP.A. is the most ambiguous of all the Flemish parties. As shown below, the SP.A. has been oscillating between a commitment to cross-regional solidarity and a tentative move towards a partial federalization of the Belgian social insurance system. The SP.A. is the least nationalist of the three traditional Flemish parties; it is therefore less likely than the others to seek the decentralization of some of the last significant, pan-Belgian programmes. In its literature for the 2003 federal election, the SP.A. made no mention of any further state reforms or changes in the division of powers. Its ideological emphasis on a broad vision of social solidarity makes it more difficult to advocate splitting the Belgian social insurance system as it would leave Walloons in a more difficult socioeconomic position. But there are also strategic reasons for the Flemish Socialists to oppose the federalization of that social insurance system. If parts of the system were federalized, the type of reforms the SP.A. wants to avoid would become much more likely. Indeed, the Socialists are the fourth party in Flanders. More than the CD&V, the VLD leans towards a neo-liberal approach to social policy, while the Vlaams Belang brings 103

Ibid.

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a different philosophy entirely, a conservative one which would, for example, reward stay-at-home mothers. Overall, decentralization weakens the SP.A., which can now count on a regular presence in the federal government as a result of the strength of the PS in Wallonia. Yet there are also strong strategic reasons for the SP.A. to at least pay lip service to federalizing the Belgian social insurance system. As we discussed previously, the Vlaams Blok/Vlaams Belang creates a pull effect on the entire Flemish party system. This puts the SP.A. in a difficult position because the VLD and CD&V are both attempting to keep up with strong nationalist positions. In this context, the Socialists could look like weak ‘protectors’ of Flemish interests; they therefore have reason to articulate a clear Flemish discourse. This political dynamic counterbalances the previously mentioned strategic imperatives and ideological considerations to make the Socialist positioning on the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system ambiguous. The only point made consistently by the SP.A. is that if there are indeed social insurance ‘abuses’ on the Walloon side, they must be addressed. 104 The Volksunie splinter group Spirit, linked to the SP.A. through an electoral cartel, is much more nationalist and supports the transfer of responsibility for health insurance, family allowances, and employment insurance to the Communities and, in the longer term, the creation of a confederal Belgium. 105 The environmentalist party Groen! is the only Flemish party that unequivocally opposes the federalization, even on a partial basis, of the Belgian social insurance system. Groen! also opposes any further constitutional change and, more generally, ‘community outbidding’. 106 Flemish nationalist mobilization around social policy occurred through the interplay of these parties within Flemish politics. The central dynamic features parties looking to keep up with nationalist claims. This typically produces close to unanimous positions and a common front towards Francophone parties that are, in reality, the only meaningful interlocutors. However, the Flemish government and Parliament have put forward a series of proposals that are clearly not acceptable to Francophone parties. These proposals, which we now examine, need to be understood in the broader context of Flemish nationalism with its logic of upping the ante and developing long-term objectives coherent with a confederal Belgium. 104 Leblanc, ‘La fédéralisation de la sécurité sociale,’ 13. This point was made to one of the authors in an interview with an SP.A. official in April 2004. 105 Serge Govaert, Les programmes des partis flamands pour les élections du 18 mai 2003, 8. 106 Ibid., 9.

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Throughout the 1980s and during the first half of the 1990s, the debate over the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system had yet to penetrate the arena of constitutional politics in Belgium. The 1988 reform came with the explicit proviso that the central government had exclusive power in that policy area. The 1993 constitutional change did not tackle the issue of social insurance reform. In early 1996, the Christian Democratic-led Flemish government released a document signalling its intention to launch a new round of state reforms. 107 This document, while defending inter-regional solidarity in principle, spoke of the need to end unjustified transfers and to allow each Region/Community to fashion its social policy according to its preferences and culture. 108 The momentum for more institutional change was fed by a book published in 1996 that featured a draft constitution for Flanders. 109 The authors stated that this was not a constitutional document for a future independent Flemish state but rather for a federated state (deelstaat) within Belgium, which meant that the Belgian Constitution would still be valid. The proposal suggested a bipolar arrangement of two federated states, Flanders and the French Community, completed by two federated entities (deelgebied), Brussels and the German-speaking Community. Several observers have seen in the book a push for, among other things, a federalization of the Belgian social insurance system. 110 For example, the draft constitution gives Flemings the right to receive financial, social, medical, and judicial assistance from the Flemish government (Article 14). 111 Then Flemish Minister-President Luc van den Brande supported the document, which he saw as revolving around the strengthening and homogenizing of Flanders’ competencies and improving the transparency of federal structures. 112 Of course, homogeneous competencies and greater transparency are key arguments in the Flemish discourse for the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system. In 1999, the Flemish Parliament made a strong statement for more substantial institutional change in Belgium by adopting five resolutions. 113 107 Gouvernement Flamand, Note de discussion pour une nouvelle étape dans la réforme de l’État, 29 February 1996. 108 Poirier and Vansteenkiste, ‘Le débat sur la fédéralisation,’ 348–9. 109 Jan Clement et al., Proeve van grondwet voor Vlaanderen (1996). Regarding social insurance, this book draws on a study published two years before: Pieters, Federalisme voor onze sociale zekerheid. 110 The document was published in French. See Jacques Brassinne, ‘La constitution flamande,’ Essai de constitution pour la Flandre (1997). The comment relating to the social insurance system (Social Security) is on page 60. 111 112 Ibid., 25. Ibid., 11. 113 Guiseppe Pagano, Les résolutions du Parlement flamand pour une réforme de l’État (2000).

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These widely publicized resolutions were hailed in Flanders but condemned by Francophones; in fact, the Walloon and French Community Parliaments rebuked them through counter-resolutions that were unanimously supported. 114 In the Flemish Parliament, the five general principles behind the resolutions enjoyed the support of the Christian Democrats, Liberals, Volksunie, and, after much hesitation, the Socialists. 115 Agalev abstained because it felt the resolutions hinted at a confederal, rather than a federal, model. Representatives from the Vlaams Blok were not present because the far-right nationalist party argued that the resolutions did not go far enough. At the broadest level, these five resolutions drew from the 1996 draft Flemish Constitution in so far as they sought to restructure Belgium on the basis of two federated states. On the issue of social insurance reform, the Flemish Parliament took a similar position to that adopted by its committee on state reform in 1997 and the Flemish government in 1996: health insurance and family allowances must be federalized, leaving Brussels residents to choose which regime they belong to. 116 The arguments put forward in favour of federalization revolved around the idea of homogeneous competencies, over-consumption of health care in Wallonia, and cultural differences. On this last point, medical specialists argued that Wallonia was more disposed to support front-line and home care, and noted also the differences of perspectives in epidemiological research. 117 Overall, the resolution supporting the federalization of health insurance and family allowances was supported by a strong majority of Flemish parliamentarians (Christian Democrats, Liberals, and Volksunie). Hence, by the end of the 1990s, there was strong support for a partial federalization of the Belgian social insurance system among Flemish political parties and within Flemish political institutions. It is interesting to note that this preference was not as clear in the general population of Flanders with approximately 35 per cent of Flemings agreeing with the statement that ‘the Social Security system should be split up/federalised’ and 33 per cent disagreeing. 118 In this context, the various steps that led to the definition of this position should not be seen strictly, or even primarily, as the reflection of popular preferences, but rather as a 114

Ibid., 7–8. On the positions of the various political parties, see Guiseppe Pagano, Les résolutions du Parlement flamand pour une réforme de l’État, 12–13, 16. The voting was slightly differentiated depending on the specific resolution. 116 117 Ibid., 44. Ibid., 36. 118 Baudewyns and Dandoy, ‘Federalism and Social Security in Belgium,’ 21. 115

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nation-building exercise. 119 Much like the great linguistic struggles had decades before, the debate over the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system stressed the distinctiveness of Flemings, though the focus was on issues such as medical habits rather than on language. This debate also served to paint a dichotomous picture for the purpose of generating support for broader institutional change. Yet it is important to highlight that the debate over the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system has been primarily a Flemish debate. This is hardly surprising because it has come to be linked with wider projects of state reform and the ill-defined confederal model. Of course, Francophone expert and political voices have defended the institutional status quo, yet federal politicians have tended to avoid this controversy. For example, neither the 1999 nor the 2003 governmental accord mentioned anything about the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system. Pierre Baudewyns and Régis Dandoy have also found that in the forty government declarations enacted between 1944 and 1999, none mentioned federalizing that system. 120 In the aftermath of the 2007 federal elections, the federalization of the social insurance system was, along with the broader issue of ‘state reform’, at the centre of a major political crisis. For over six months, no government came out of the new Parliament as the Flemish Christian Democrats, led by Yves Leterme (and their N-VA partners), were unable to come to an agreement with Francophone parties because of the commitment (especially strong in N-VA’s case) to continue the state reform process, including the federalization of family allowances and health insurance. 121 At that point, it seemed that Francophone parties were making good on their promise to block any more fundamental state reform and not to allow the federalization of any aspects of the Belgian social insurance system. The stalemate of 2007 begs the question of why, despite tremendous pressures from Flemish parties, there has been no change on the territorial administration of the traditional Belgian social insurance system. We argue that there are obstacles of an economic, socio-structural, and political-constitutional nature preventing effective change, which will now be discussed at some length.

119 On the paradox between popular preferences and institutional reform in Belgium, see André Lecours, ‘Solving the Belgian Paradox’. 120 Pierre Baudewyns and Régis Dandoy, ‘Federalism and Social Security in Belgium,’ 14. 121 The split of the district of Bruxelles-Halle-Vilvoorde was also a major stumbling block.

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Obstacles to Social Insurance Federalization: Key Actors and Institutional Forces The comparison between Flemish nationalism in Belgium and the two cases discussed in previous chapters highlights the variability of the impact of sub-state nationalism on social policy. Indeed, while the consensus among major Flemish parties has maintained the issue of federalization on the policy agenda in Flanders and, to a lesser extent, at the federal level, key economic, institutional, and political obstacles have complicated the efforts of those who support the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system. In contrast to the Canadian case, in Belgium, major social programmes like modern social insurance schemes emerged before the creation of a federal state. This situation helped favour the unobstructed development of countrywide constituencies that typically oppose the decentralization of the social insurance system created during the post-war era. More specifically, three factors related to this policy legacy can explain why the Belgian social insurance system has not been decentralized despite significant pressure emanating from Flemish politicians and business representatives. First, the current social insurance financing arrangements based on payroll taxes complicates decentralization for administrative and economic reasons. Second, social partners still operate at the federal level, and they generally oppose decentralization in order to defend class solidarity and/or to preserve their legitimacy and their administrative prerogatives. Third, Francophone parties hold an institutional ‘veto point’ in so far as the territorial decentralization of the Belgian social insurance system is impossible without their consent. The following section examines these three obstacles. It argues that the polarization of the debate over decentralization made reform difficult even beyond the territorial question. Yet change occurred in some social policy areas; for example, Flanders launched a new dependency insurance programme. This may point to an emerging trend in Belgian social policy: the development of an asymmetrical social policy system in which Flanders increases the scope of protection offered on its territory.

Administrative and Economic Obstacles to Reform The first set of obstacles is the most technical and the least problematic, as other countries have successfully neutralized them. When significant

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levels of labour mobility exist between regions, a decentralization of social insurance schemes creates administrative complications. Considering inter-regional labour mobility, for example, computing benefits and collecting payroll taxes could prove more difficult in a decentralized social insurance system. Yet the Canadian experience with the Quebec Pension Plan suggests that such administrative complications can be transcended. 122 They certainly do not constitute an insurmountable obstacle to reform. Macro-economic problems stemming from decentralization are perhaps more important. Because of the enduring economic disparities between Flanders and Wallonia, the decentralization of social insurance schemes could create significant disparities in payroll tax levels across regions. Such regional disparities, opponents of federalization argue, would transform Belgium into a balkanized economic order where payroll tax levels could vary significantly from one region to another. Payroll taxes are already high in Belgium, and regional inequalities could force policy-makers to raise them further in Wallonia. In the context of economic globalization and European integration, this situation could have a negative impact on the competitiveness of Walloon enterprises, which already falls behind that of their Flemish counterparts. If asymmetrical payroll tax levels existed on a regional basis, the idea of a common Belgian economic policy may become illusionary. Perhaps for these administrative and economic reasons, most advocates of social insurance decentralization now link this issue to a shift from payroll taxes to general revenues financing. Concerning health insurance and family allowances, this shift seems logical because these two policy areas are not directly related to work, as opposed to income-replacement programmes such as old-age insurance and unemployment insurance. 123 Frequently associated with the neo-liberal creed that supports the reduction of payroll taxes and labour costs, this proposed change in social insurance financing lies at the centre of the debate between the social partners analysed below. Although actors who promote a shift from payroll taxes to general revenues financing are not always backing the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system, the two issues are perceived as being tied together in a way that breeds suspicion on the part of those who oppose federalization.

122 As noted in Chapter 2, there are two main earnings-related pension schemes in Canada: one for the province of Quebec, and one for the nine other provinces. 123 Interview with a former federal Minister, Brussels, 17 May 2004.

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Preserving Their Legitimacy: The Social Partners and the Issue of Federalization In contrast with political parties, labour unions and the main federal business organization (Verbond van Belgische Ondernemingen/Fédération des Entreprises de Belgique [VBO-FEB]) have not split upon linguistic lines. These organizations take an active part in the management of the federal social insurance schemes, and this administrative role brings them great legitimacy. Linguistic tensions exist within these organizations yet there is a relative consensus about the fact that decentralization of the Belgian social insurance system would reduce the legitimacy of the social partners (VBO/FEB and the three main national labour organizations) because they are involved in periodical bargaining over inter-professional labour agreements as well as in the management of social insurance schemes. In such a context, the fight for the preservation of the federal social insurance system by these social partners is also a struggle to maintain their policy relevance. This is especially true for the VBO/FEB, which is facing a significant political challenge in the expansion of the nationalist, neoliberal Flemish business lobby. The following pages examine the positions of the VBO/FEB and the two largest labour unions in the debate over the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system. This discussion emphasizes their common opposition to federalization as well as their internal tensions.

THE CHRISTIAN LABOUR MOVEMENT (ACV/CSC) The ACV/CSC (Algemeen Christelijk Vakverbond/Confédération des Syndicats Chrétiens) is the largest labour union in Belgium. For example, at the 2004 ‘social election’, 124 more than 50 per cent of the workers supported this organization. That is significantly more than support for the Socialist ABVV/FGTB, which received about 35 per cent at the same election. 125 124 These so-called social elections are held every four years and they constitute a corporatist mechanism through which wageworkers across Belgium elect representatives on workplace councils and workplace health and safety committees. In a way, social elections are to the enterprise what municipal elections are to the village and the city. Social elections are an excellent way to measure support for existing labour unions, whose candidates run during these elections. For more information about the social elections, see http://www.eurofound.eu.int/emire/BELGIUM/SOCIALELECTIONS-BE.html [accessed on 19 June 2005] 125 The liberal labour union ACLVB/CGSLB received less than 10% of the votes during that election, making it a rather marginal social and political actor in Belgium. This explains why we have excluded this organization from our discussion about Belgian social insurance

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Since the 1960s, the ACV/CSC has had the largest membership among Belgium-wide labour unions, with more than 1.5 million members in the early 2000s. 126 A crucial actor of the Catholic pillar, this labour union officially supports the social doctrine of the Catholic Church, which opposes revolution and radical social change. 127 Yet today’s ACV/CSC rarely articulates an explicitly religious public discourse, and membership is open to people of other faiths. Despite enduring intra-pillar solidarity, the ties between this organization and the two Catholic political parties have weakened. This is essentially due to the fact that these parties were excluded from ruling coalitions between 1999 and 2007. In order to influence governmental decisions, the ACV/CSC somewhat distanced itself from the Christian democratic parties. 128 Although approximately two-thirds of its members live in Flanders, the ACV/CSC opposes the federalization of Belgian social insurance schemes. This opposition to federalization is a firm ideological commitment on the part of the ACV/CSC. 129 According to its leaders, solidarity between workers should prevail over linguistic divisions. Downplaying the size of the inter-regional transfers, they argue that the federal state should remain competent in the field of social insurance. As mentioned above, maintaining a strong federal social insurance system is important for social partners such as the ACV/CSC because much of their legitimacy stems from their managerial role in that domain. Internal debates about the issue of federalization do exist, yet there is no strong movement within the union’s Flemish wing to change its official position. Like Francophone politicians, Francophone members stand firmly against decentralization. 130 Despite its opposition to federalization, the ACV/CSC does not support the status quo in the field of social insurance. Since the second half of the 1990s, the organization has advocated a major change in the financing of health insurance and family allowances: the shift from payroll tax to

reform. Suffice it to say that this organization, like the two largest federal unions, has traditionally opposed the decentralization of social insurance schemes. 126 For a discussion about union membership in Belgium since the Second World War, see Étienne Arcq and Magali Aussems, Implantation syndicale et taux de syndicalisation (1992–2000) (2002). 127 On the history of the ACV/CSC, see Les grandes étapes du syndicalisme chrétien, ACV/CSC, Brussels, 2004. 128 Between 1999 and 2007, Christian-democrats did not participate in the federal government, which destabilized the weakened ACV/CSC while reducing its political influence (interview with a CRISP researcher, Brussels, 20 May 2004). 129 130 Interviews with two ACV/CSC officials, Brussels, May 2004. Ibid.

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general revenues financing. 131 For the ACV/CSC, these two policy areas are not directly related to work, as opposed to pensions and unemployment insurance that are income replacement policies. Payroll taxes are a burden on wages, and a shift from payroll tax to general revenues financing would promote employment. Furthermore, the federal state is already involved in the financing of health care, an area where the social partners are not truly responsible, at least at the administrative level. 132 The transformation in the financing structure of health insurance would mean that social partners would no longer take a central role in health care governance. To the relief of the ACV/CSC, such reform would shift the responsibility for potentially unpopular health care reforms to the state, the mutualities, and the health industry. Social partners would stay in charge of payroll tax-financed old age and unemployment insurance schemes. 133 Receiving the support of most ACV/CSC Flemish members, this proposal is a source of concern among Francophone members, who fear that this change in health insurance and family allowance financing would constitute a Trojan horse for federalization. The fact that Flemish political parties such as the VLD link federalization to a shift from payroll tax to general revenues financing adds to their concerns. Furthermore, mutualities, even Catholic ones, reject this proposal largely because they seek to preserve an institutional and financial framework from which they seem to benefit. 134

THE SOCIALIST LABOUR MOVEMENT (ABVV/FGTB) The ABVV/FGTB (Algemeen Belgisch VakVerbond/Fédération Générale des Travailleurs Belges) is the second largest labour union in Belgium. 135 At the 2004 ‘social elections’, approximately 35 per cent of the workers voted for this Socialist organization, which has about 1.2 million members. As opposed to the Flemish-dominated ACV/CSC, there are nearly as many Francophone members as Flemish members within the ABVV/FGTB. This is largely because the socialist pillar is stronger in Wallonia than in Flanders, which compensates for the fact that the former is significantly 131 For a brief overview of the organisation’s positions on social insurance reform, see CSC, Syndicaliste (Rapport du 32e Congrès statutaire de la CSC), no. 583, 10 April 2003: 27–31. 132 Hospital administrators and mutualities are probably the most important managerial players in the field of health care. 133 134 Interview with a ACV/CSC official, Brussels, 18 May 2004. Ibid. 135 On the history of the ABVV/FGTB, see Jean-Jacques Messiaen and Luc Peiren (eds.), Un siècle de solidarité (1898–1998): Histoire du syndicat socialiste (1997).

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less populated than the latter. 136 Slightly more radical than its Catholic counterpart, the ABVV/FGTB remains closely tied to the Francophone Parti socialiste. The situation is not the same in Flanders, where intra-pillar connections between the ABVV/FGTB and the SP.A are rather weak. 137 This is probably because the ABVV/FGTB rejects the Third Way-style model that has been in vogue within the SP.A. The territorial fate of Belgium’s social insurance system is a significant point of disagreement between the ABVV/FGTB and the SP.A. While the latter has an ambiguous position on the federalization of health insurance and family allowances, the former totally opposes this type of reform. Perhaps even more than its Catholic counterpart, the ABVV/FGTB defends the maintenance of the current federal social insurance system. This opposition to decentralization is grounded in a firm ideological commitment to Belgian working class solidarity. 138 Alongside the Francophone political parties, the ABVV/FGTB is indeed one of the strongest opponents to the decentralization of the federal social insurance schemes. This organization’s firm stance in favour of inter-regional social solidarity probably reflects the demographic weight of Francophones within it. And like its Catholic counterpart, the ABVV/FGTB downplays inter-regional transfers while underlying working-class solidarity. But inter-regional tensions exist within the ABVV/FGTB, and Flemish members are keener to support decentralization than their Francophone counterparts, who form a solid block against that policy alternative. 139 This firm resistance to federalization does not mean that the ABVV/FGTB opposes attempts to reform social insurance financing. For example, a 2004 ABVV/FGTB document supports the development of alternative sources of financing alongside the existing payroll taxes. 140 Yet the ABVV/FGTB, in contrast to its Catholic counterpart, currently rejects the shift from payroll tax to general revenues financing in health insurance and family allowances. Ironically, it is the ABVV/FGTB that introduced this type of idea in the early 1970s. During the following years, however, Francophone members began to fear that the advent of this financing model would facilitate the decentralization of the federal social insurance schemes. 141 The ABVV/FGTB finally backed away from this proposal, which would later end up on the ACV/CSC platform. 136 There are about six million inhabitants in Flanders, three million in Wallonia, and one million in the Brussels Region. 137 138 Interview with a ABVV/FGTB official, Brussels, 21 May 2004. Ibid. 139 140 Ibid. ABVV/FGTB, De l’argent pour la Sécu (2004). 141 Interview with an ABVV/FGTB official, Brussels, 21 May 2004.

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This episode shows how many Francophone socialist union members have become obsessed with the risk of federalization. Like Francophone political parties, they commonly reject reform initiatives that could, in one way or another, facilitate the parting of the Belgian social insurance system. This represents a source of institutional inertia within that system. BUSINESS ORGANIZATIONS The VBO/FEB is the federal business organization that participates in the centralized collective bargaining process as well as in the management of the federal social insurance schemes. Additionally, the VBO/FEB is a lobby that formally represents Belgian enterprises at the federal level. This organization represents over 30,000 enterprises, most of them (25,000) small businesses. The elective members consist of thirty-four business federations representing specific economic sectors. Overall, the firms represented within the VBO/FEB employ more than 1.5 million wageworkers. 142 Like business organizations from other Bismarckian (social insurance) countries, the VBO/FEB pushed for more employment flexibility and a reduction in labour costs stemming from payroll taxes. Largely because it is fragmented among sectoral and regional lines, this organization finds it difficult to formulate a bold, united reform agenda in the field of social policy. 143 For example, although there is a consensus among employers concerning the need to reduce payroll taxes, sectoral factions oppose alternative sources of financing (energy or sales tax increases) that directly threaten their perceived economic interests. Furthermore, regional business organizations, especially Flemish ones, constitute a potential threat to the policy influence of the VBO/FEB. In recent decades, the decentralization of key policy areas, for example education, has already reduced the scope and the apparent relevance of this federal organization whose staff has declined by approximately 20 per cent since the late 1980s. 144 This explains why the VBO/FEB leaders would not support the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system: such reform would mean losing policy relevance at the federal level. 142 Fédérations des Entreprises de Belgique (FEB), Rapport annuel 2003: Les axes et actions de la FEB (2003), 6. 143 For historic background concerning the FEB’s ideological moderation, see Etienne Arcq, Les organisations patronales en Belgique (1990), 10. For a complete history of the FEB, see René Brion et al., 100 ans pour l’entreprise: Fédération des entreprises de Belgique, 1895–1995 (1995). 144 The number of paid employees declined from about 120 in the late 1990s to about 100 in 2004. Interview with a VBO/FEB official, Brussels, 27 May 2004.

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This is especially true in view of the competition emanating from the main Flemish business organization, Vlaams Economisch Verbond (VEV), whose political profile has increased since the 1990s. 145 In line with most Flemish political parties, the VEV supports the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system. Because many of its Flemish members support this policy alternative, the VBO/FEB keeps a low profile in the debate. 146 Although it seeks to preserve a countrywide social insurance system that comforts its status as a federal social partner, the VBO/FEB does not want to alienate Flemish employers who are generally sensitive to the well-known arguments in favour of federalization that Flemish political parties and the VEV have put forward. Like labour unions, most Walloon employers condemn proposals favouring the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system. From their perspective, decentralization would presumably mean a regional increase in payroll taxes that would crush their already weakened national and international competitiveness. The weight of Walloon firms within the VBO/FEB probably helps explain why this organization does not support social insurance federalization. 147 Yet the VEV’s aggressive discourse and its apparent lack of respect for the VBO/FEB’s institutional status have already pushed this organization to adopt a sharper neo-liberal stance in synch with the one prevalent among Flemish employers. 148 Because of the competition emanating from the VEV, the VBO/FEB is in a weaker position than labour unions to defend the current federal social insurance system. Only time will tell if it will hold sway or if Flemish employers will choose the VEV as their only legitimate representative at both the regional and federal levels. The decline (or the complete disappearance) of the VBO/FEB would make the federal social insurance system more vulnerable to the Flemish push for its federalization. For now, social partners such as the VBO/FEB, the 145 The VEV first raised the issue of social insurance federalization in 1980 before firmly supporting it a few years later. Its argument would become a mainstay of the Flemish position on this question: there is a difference of character between Flanders and Wallonia, and the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system would provide an opportunity for a (neoliberal) reform that could bring it more in line with the values of Flemings. See Leblanc, ‘La fédéralisation de la sécurité sociale,’ 14. 146 Interview with a VBO/FEB official, Brussels, 27 May 2004. 147 Furthermore, the main Walloon business lobby (Union wallonne des entreprises), as opposed to the VEV, genuinely respects the FEB’s federal prerogatives. It also agrees with the FEB on the need to maintain the federal social insurance system (E-mail interview with a representative of the Union wallonne des entreprises, 25 June 2004). 148 Interview with an ABVV/FGTB official, Brussels, 21 May 2004. Yet the FEB, like the Union wallonne des enterprises, still promotes the dialogue with labour unions, in sharp contrast to the anti-labour rhetoric of the VEV. The high percentage of small businesses within the VEV could explain why this organization has developed such a negative attitude towards labour unions.

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ACV/CSC, and the ABVV/FGTB are, alongside Francophone parties like the Parti socialiste, the most effective defenders of the Belgian social insurance system. We now examine the institutional features of the Belgian constitutional and political system that grant Francophone parties a ‘veto point’ in the debate over social policy reform and, more precisely, the decentralization of social insurance schemes.

The Francophone ‘Veto Point’ As we have already shown, most Francophones perceive the social insurance system as one of the last ties holding Belgium together as a meaningful political community. 149 Any mention by Flemish leaders of federalizing that system is interpreted as a move towards a final and irrevocable divorce. In the past, Francophones have been willing to accept the federalization of a number of policy areas (such as in 2001) if it meant, among other things, preserving the status quo on the territorial organization of social insurance. As a result of constitutional rules and entrenched Belgian political practices, Francophone parties have undeniable ‘veto power’ in so far as they can block direct attempts to split the Belgian social insurance system. This veto stems from the constitutional obligation of Belgian governments to have an equal number of Flemish and Francophone ministers (Article 99 of the Belgian Constitution), and from the political understanding that federal decisions will be reached by consensus. 150 The total or partial federalization of the Belgian social insurance system would in all likelihood involve constitutional change. In such a case, the bar is even higher since the support of two-thirds of each legislative chamber is necessary. Moreover, the division of power relating to the Belgian social insurance system is laid out in so-called special laws, that is, federal legislations of a constitutional nature, which are even more difficult to amend than the Constitution. Indeed, modifying a ‘special law’ requires a two-third overall majority in both Chambers of Parliament. This means that any reform would require a majority with the Francophone members of Parliament. Needless to say, this is highly unlikely in the 149 Poirier and Vansteenkiste, ‘Le débat sur la fédéralisation de la sécurité sociale en Belgique.’ 150 A procedure known as the alarm-bell reinforces the mutual vetoes stemming from cabinet parity as parliamentarians from one language group can put a bill on hold by arguing that it threatens the vital interests of their linguistic community. For this procedure to be enacted, three-quarters of the Members of Parliament from one language group must sign a petition. See Marc Uyttendaele, Institutions fondamentales de la Belgique (1997), 102. The alarm-bell is not central to the Francophone veto power in the case we are discussing.

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short term considering that every Francophone party currently opposes the federalization of any part of the Belgian social insurance system. Francophone reluctance to support any measure that could lead to the federalization of the social insurance system is a major source of institutional inertia in that policy domain. Furthermore, regional economic disparities make it difficult for Flemish and Francophone parties to reach agreement over key social policy issues. The debate over unemployment and welfare-to-work policies provides ground for these claims. Labour shortage, not unemployment, is often perceived as a crucial issue in Flanders, and Flemish politicians tend to support welfare-to-work policies. Because unemployment is higher in Wallonia than in Flanders, Francophones frequently perceive the Flemish push for welfare-to-work ‘activation policies’ as an attempt to punish the unemployed because of a situation they cannot control. 151 Even the two Socialist parties are divided over these policies. On the one hand, Flemish Socialists like Frank Vandenbroucke support activation measures similar to the ones enacted in Denmark and the United Kingdom. 152 The growing popularity of this approach in Flanders reflects the direct influence of Third Way ideas on the Flemish Socialist movement. Interestingly, because their ideas are more in line with the European Employment Strategy than the ones of their Walloon counterparts, Vandenbroucke and other Flemish politicians refer to the EU in order to depict the Walloons opposing activation as out of touch with global policy trends. From this perspective, EU-level developments do have some impact on the territorial politics of social policy in Belgium. 153 On the other hand, members of the Francophone Parti socialiste are far less enthusiastic about welfare-to-work policies. Within the Socialist labour movement, Francophones have strongly mobilized against the implementation of such policies in Belgium. In March 2004, the President of the ABVV/FGTB, Mia De Vits, resigned over this issue. A Flemish Socialist close to Frank Vandenbroucke and his Third Way ideological stance, De Vits had long-faced strong pressures from Francophone union members who oppose the activation agenda that became dominant in Flanders. 154 Beyond such ideological divides, one can sense the weight of enduring regional disparities colouring the debate over most social policy issues, from social assistance to pension reform and health 151

Interview with a former francophone Minister, Brussels, 17 May 2004. To learn more about his vision, see Frank Vandenbroucke, ‘Sustainable Social Justice and “Open Co-ordination” in Europe’ (2002), viii–xxiv. 153 Philippe Pochet and Pierre Reman, ‘La sécurité sociale en Belgique: entre régionalisation et européanisation,’ Lien social et politiques, 56 (2006): 89–102. 154 FGTB, ‘Mia De Vits Part pour l’Europe,’ 12 March 2004. 152

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care. These disparities, as well as the nature of the federal institutions that are conducive to incessant bargaining between parties and between social partners, favour inertia and incremental changes rather than bold reforms. These factors may help to explain why Belgium, as opposed to countries such as Canada, Denmark, the Netherlands, Sweden, the United Kingdom, and even France, has not witnessed many comprehensive social policy reforms since the early 1980s. 155 Despite enduring fiscal and ideological pressures associated with neo-liberalism, contemporary social policy reform in Belgium is more about the enduring weight of policy legacies and related constituencies than about path-departing reforms. This is often seen as ‘immobilism’ or ‘stagnation’ in Flemish circles, and the lack of opportunities for reform leads some to favour federalization as a way to facilitate change.

Change Amidst Stasis: Flanders’s Dependency Insurance Programme These remarks about the relative institutional stability of the Belgian social policy system should not suggest that no significant policy changes have occurred since the 1990s. For example, a limited number of welfareto-work measures have been implemented. 156 Furthermore, the more centralized ‘global management’ of social insurance financing constitutes a noteworthy policy innovation that reduces the potentially negative fiscal effects of fragmentation. Yet, from our theoretical perspective, perhaps the most significant social policy innovation adopted in Belgium after the creation of a federal state was the Flemish dependency insurance programme because it significantly increased the level of social policy divergence between Flanders and Wallonia. The following paragraphs discuss briefly the origin and the meaning of this policy. Dependency became a significant policy issue in Belgium during the 1990s. Several dependency insurance bills were debated in the federal parliament yet, because of the bleak economic situation prevailing in Wallonia, it seemed difficult to finance a new federal social insurance scheme. No political consensus was achieved over the issue, and the result 155 For a comparison of Belgium and the Netherlands, see Anton Hemerijck and Jelle Visser, ‘Change and Immobility: Three Decades of Policy Adjustment in the Netherlands and Belgium,’ West European Politics 23 (2000): 229–56; For a comparison of Belgium, France, Sweden, and the United Kingdom in the field of pension reform, see Patrik Marier, Pension Politics: Consensus and Social Conflict in Ageing Societies (2008). 156 For a Belgian critique of activation policies see Didier Vrancken, Le crépuscule du social (2002).

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was an absence of legislation. Eager to increase the policy autonomy of Flanders while claiming credit for this potentially popular measure, Flemish politicians finally backed the creation of an exclusively Flemish programme that would deal with the issue of dependency care. 157 Labelled Vlaamse zorgverzekering (VZ), this programme was enacted in March 1999. As stated above, effective since October 2001, the VZ covers part of the non-medical costs related to dependency care (cleaning, preparing meals, household services, transportation, and so on). VZ expenditures are financed both by the general Flemish budget and by a special flat-rate tax. In 2001 and 2002, every Flemish resident aged 25 and older had to pay 10 euros a year. Because the programme’s spending was far higher than expected, this amount increased to 25 euros a year in 2003. Moreover, the Flemish government cut some benefits in order to control costs. 158 The creation of this Flemish scheme is a major source of concern among Francophones. The French Community challenged the constitutionality of the Flemish legislation that set up the programme before the federal Cour d’arbitrage (called Constitutional Court since 2007). The court rejected the claim that the legislation violated the federal constitution, which makes social insurance financed through traditional payroll taxes a federal jurisdiction. For the court, the Flemish Community (like the other two) has the right to create a social programme in a policy area where the federal government had not been directly involved. 159 Despite this decision, many Francophones still perceive the Flemish programme as a ‘breach in the federal Social Security’. 160 Francophone politicians also view the Flemish dependency insurance programme as potentially establishing an undesirable link between Francophones in Brussels and the Flemish government, since Brussels residents can access programmes from either Community. 161 This also leads to a situation where, in time, some Brussels residents will have access to dependency insurance while others will not. Most Francophone politicians, with the support of the labour movement, back the creation of a federal dependency insurance that would 157 On the origin of this legislation, see Poirier and Vansteenkiste, ‘Le débat sur la fédéralisation,’ 345–6. See also Paul Palsterman, Défédéraliser la sécurité sociale? (2005), 24–8. 158 Gérard Paquet, ‘Quel avenir pour l’assurance autonomie?’ En marche: Le journal de la mutualité chrétienne (2002). 159 For a detailed legal analysis of this decision see Yves Jorens, ‘Défédéralisation de la sécurité sociale en Belgique: l’exemple des soins de longue durée,’ Lien social et politiques 56 (2006): 129–36. 160 Janine Claeys, ‘Un piège communautaire?’ Le soir (2003). 161 These comments were gathered through interviews with Francophone party officials conducted in the spring of 2004.

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cover the entire Belgian population while restoring a certain institutional and territorial balance to the country’s fragmented social policy system. As we mentioned before, the PS put such a proposal in its programme for the 2003 federal elections. In January 2004, more than two dozen Francophone senators supported a bill that would provide a new federal social insurance scheme. 162 Again, from a Francophone perspective, the issue is to cover the Belgian population as a whole but also to counter the development of a distinct social policy system in Flanders. The future will tell if Flemish dependency insurance is a genuine first step in that direction. The development of this dependency programme stresses the potential for truly distinct social policies in Flanders and, consequently, the emergence of Flemish nationalism as an agenda-setter within Belgium as a whole. Yet so far, the main agenda-setting role of Flemish nationalism has been essentially negative: pushing the issue of the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system on both the regional and the state (Belgian) policy agendas. This is true in part because, by and large, as a right-leaning movement operating in a region where social policy has yet to become a crucial tool of identity formation, Flemish nationalism seems more preoccupied with reducing the level of inter-regional solidarity than with the advent of a more comprehensive social policy system in Flanders. This remark points to the striking contrast between Flanders and the two other cases analysed previously.

Conclusion This chapter provides more ground to our six claims about the meshing of nationalism and social policy in multinational states. First, in Belgium, social policy (in this case, social insurance) became, in the 1990s, a major issue in the debate over the future of the country. On the one hand, Flemish nationalists have strongly criticized the federal social insurance system in the name of fiscal fairness as well as distinct national values and policy preferences and, on the other hand, Walloon politicians have increasingly referred to this system as a major symbol of Belgian identity and solidarity. In the case of Belgium where so many policy areas have been decentralized over the last thirty-five years because of Flemish 162 Sénat, Proposition de loi relative à la création d’une assurance dépendance (2004). On the debate over this bill and others, see http://www.senat.fr/dossierleg/pjl03–299.html [accessed on 10 July 2005]

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nationalist pressures, claims for the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system are part of a larger nationalist project whereby the future is conceptualized along the lines of a strongly decentralized federation, a confederal model, or simply an independent Flanders. Second, Flemish nationalism has used social policy as a mobilizing tool in the quest for territorial autonomy. Although social policy is a less central component of the Flemish identity than in the cases of the Scottish and Québécois identities, its importance for nationalist mobilization in Flanders is enormous. Financial transfers from North to South through Belgian social insurance schemes provide a natural target for Flemish nationalism, especially since the continuing federal administration of central social programmes is incongruous with the ongoing transformation of the Belgian state in the way of decentralization and fragmentation. Third, at first sight, one perceives a closer relationship between perceived economic interests and sub-state nationalist mobilization around social policy in Belgium than in our two other cases. This is probably true because, in contrast to Canada and the United Kingdom, Belgium features a nationalist movement in the country’s richest and most populated region. As a consequence, the connection between Flemish nationalism and social policy was made in the context of implicit transfers from wealthier Flanders to poorer Wallonia through the centrally administered Belgian social insurance system. The timing of this connection, which started roughly in the 1980s, is probably no accident. Flanders was by then firmly established as the most prosperous region of Belgium. Was this economic cleavage a necessary condition for Flemish nationalism to incorporate social policy into its agenda? In other words, would there have been Flemish claims for the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system if Wallonia was the wealthier of the two regions? The question is both speculative and impossible to definitively ascertain. From a narrow economic perspective, the answer would be no, because Flanders would lose in this case. A central claim of this book, however, suggests otherwise. We argue that nationalist movements tend to seek the decentralization of social policy, so that they can bring the mechanisms of solidarity within the boundaries of their national community. From this angle, the political power of nationalism could triumph at least in part over purely interest-based calculations. The two other cases discussed in this book are examples of nationalist movements claiming the decentralization of social policy on behalf of regions that are not really affluent in comparison to the rest of the country. The variability of the importance of concrete economic factors is also palpable when 193


we consider the existence of political and social cleavages within Flanders that are perhaps as substantial as those between Flanders and Wallonia. In Flanders, these cleavages are currently subsumed under Flemish national solidarity. Regardless of what we could say about these concrete cleavages, it is clear from the evidence presented above that, for Flemish nationalists, references to the fairness of financial transfers between Flanders and the rest of Belgium have become a major mobilization strategy. Fourth, like in Quebec and Scotland, Flemish sub-state nationalism is grounded in claims about the existence of a national logic of solidarity where co-nationals have a special obligation to each other’s welfare. But as opposed to the situation prevailing in these two other cases, Flemish claims about sub-state territorial solidarity are mobilized against redistribution and regional transfers. Partly because Flanders is the wealthiest region in Belgium, Flemish nationalists often take a neo-liberal stance on redistribution and solidarity that implicitly supports a reduction in social benefits outside the region’s boundaries. The Flemish quest for the federalization of social insurance in Belgium illustrates a vision of solidarity according to which members of the same nation should come first as far as social policy and economic redistribution go. Fifth, as mentioned above, Flemish parties and nationalist leaders have succeeded in pushing the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system onto the policy agenda. On the one hand, at the sub-state level, Flemish nationalists promote federalization, which is a major aspect of their political platform. On the other hand, at the state level, these nationalists have forced all political actors, including Walloons, to debate federalization proposals emanating from Flanders. This fact provides more ground to our claim that sub-state nationalism can reshape both the state and the sub-state policy agenda. Moreover, Flemish nationalists have made systematic framing efforts to convince Flemish citizens to support federalization. In addition to the straightforward economic argument in favour of a more balanced model of territorial redistribution, Flemish nationalists have been referring to a major ‘value gap’ between Flemings and Walloons that legitimizes federalization. The dichotomy between Flemings-as-entrepreneurs and Walloons-as-welfarerecipients ever present in the discourse of Flemish nationalism is a striking example of these framing processes centred on this alleged ‘value gap’. Sixth, this chapter further supports the claim that the consequences of sub-state nationalism for social policy development are variable. In Belgium, the social policy system has not changed as much as the Canadian and the British welfare states, where political power is more 194


concentrated and social partners (that is, business and labour organizations) are absent from social policy management. 163 In Belgium’s case, formal political institutions and enduring policy legacies have created strong constituencies that largely oppose the federalization of social insurance schemes. More particularly, the Francophone parties’ ‘veto point’ and the mobilization of the labour unions and the federal business organization are instrumental in blocking the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system. But the absence of concrete federalization does not mean that Flemish nationalism had no significant impact on social policy development. As the advent of dependency insurance in Flanders suggests, even without the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system, Flemish nationalism can legitimize significant policy innovations at the regional level. Only time will tell if enduring economic disparities and nationalist mobilization can pave the way to a territorially dual social policy system in Belgium. In addition to the above mentioned socio-economic disparities between Flanders and Wallonia, political institutions represent a major mediating factor that structures the nationalism–social policy nexus in Belgium. At the broadest level, the dynamic of the Belgian federalization process, spurred on by Flemish nationalism, very likely increases the pressure to decentralize major social programmes. As mentioned above, Belgian federalism is of the coming-apart rather than the coming-together variety. The structure of Belgian federalism has also favoured Flemish nationalism latching onto federal social insurance as a mobilizing issue. Belgium is a decentralized federation where powers are distributed in a non-hierarchical and watertight fashion. Political parties are split among linguistic lines; thus, all elections are really community elections. In a sense, there is no genuine federal political scene. As a consequence of this institutional arrangement, the main cleavage in Belgian politics is inter-regional (Flanders–Wallonia) rather than between the federal government and the federated units, as is the case in Canada. Similarly, intergovernmental relations primarily feature the federated units or, perhaps more accurately, the political parties. In this context of a federal government that is largely silent and without any role as a mediator, the Flemish Community and the Walloon Region/French Community define their positions in opposition to one another. North–South financial transfers are sure to be controversial and therefore make their way onto 163 For a comparison between Belgium and the United Kingdom focusing on pension reform, see Marier, Pension Politics.

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the political agenda. While the case of Flemish nationalism supports our claim that nationalist movements are likely to focus on social policy for stimulating mobilization, Flanders is a less compelling case for arguing that social policy has become a component of sub-state national identity. The Belgian institutional setting is a crucial factor in explaining why the Flemish identity is less associated with social policy than is, for example, the Québécois identity. As we have seen, the Belgian federal state still has jurisdiction over key elements of social policy, and considering the relative newness of Flemish institutions, there has been little chance yet for major policy divergence, as has happened in Quebec, for example. Continuing with the issue of identity, ideological factors may also have contributed to the loose connection between social policy and the Flemish identity. In part because of religious and cultural factors and in part because it now speaks in the name of a wealthy region, Flemish nationalism is generally on the centre-right, which means there is not an ideological tendency to support higher levels of social spending and, as is the case in Quebec and Scotland, distinctly progressive social policies. From this perspective, the definition of a national identity in terms of social policy may be less likely in a right-wing ideological context. As we have seen, however, the neo-liberal orientation of Flemish politics has not prevented the establishment of a dependency insurance programme that could eventually become a reference point for Flemish social policy distinctiveness. Moreover, the debate around social policy has bolstered references to so-called ‘Flemish values’ such as autonomy, innovation, and efficiency, which together with language constitute the Flemish identity. Certainly, the Belgian case demonstrates that right-wing politics does not mean that social policy cannot factor into nationalist mobilization. Here, the far-right Vlaams Blok/Vlaams Belang is particularly instructive because it shows that even nationalist parties that are socially conservative and on the far-right will want the boundaries of their national community to be congruent with the mechanisms of social solidarity.

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Conclusion

This book has explored an understudied relationship that has broad implications for future research about nationalism and about social policy, in multinational states and beyond. In this conclusion, we return to the six claims formulated in Chapter 1 before suggesting that the analysis of the nationalism–social policy nexus is relevant beyond our three empirical cases. The final section assesses the general meaning of our study for the literatures on nationalism and on social policy.

Six Claims on Nationalism and Social Policy: Assessing the Evidence Chapter 1 formulated six claims regarding the relationship between substate nationalism and social policy. It is now time to review these claims in light of the empirical analysis presented in the last three chapters. 1. In developed multinational countries, both the state and at least one substate government are likely to use social policy to foster and promote competing national solidarities and identities. The most basic observation stemming from our study is that, in all three cases discussed, the dynamics of nationalism and social policy are interconnected. Nationalist movements in Flanders, Quebec, and Scotland seek control over social policy to build their national community. A crucial element of the relationship between nationalism and social policy is that the discourse on social benefits and solidarity can blend in very neatly with the nationalist discourse. Social policy preferences are typically expressed in terms of core values, economic principles, and political ideologies. In this respect, Scotland and Quebec are similar. In both cases, the nationalist discourse for the decentralization of social policy features the idea of a more progressive, collectivist, and egalitarian

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society than the rest of the country, a society that should have maximum autonomy to design social programmes according to those values. In Flanders, references are to a different set of values when making a case for the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system: Flemings are portrayed as entrepreneurs in contrast to Walloons, who are said to embody a culture of dependency. In this discursive context, social policy preferences become part of the process of identity-building. For example, the idea that Quebeckers are more progressive than other Canadians is, along with language, a central component of the contemporary Québécois identity. In Scotland, the same type of image defines Scots in relation to the English. In the Scottish case, this connection between national identity and social policy preferences is arguably even more crucial than in Quebec, because there is no ‘hard’ cultural marker like language separating Scotland and England. In Quebec, concrete social policies, especially the affordable day care programme, have become symbols of the national identity as defined at least partly by notions of progressiveness and egalitarianism. In Scotland, the long-term personal care for the elderly programme is acquiring this type of symbolic significance. The symbolic value of social policies for nationalist movements is hardly surprising when we consider that they played the same role for state nationalism. The British NHS, for example, became a powerful symbol of national unity in the postwar era. Canada’s publicly funded and run health care system is a central component of its national identity, particularly with respect to setting it apart from the United States. In Belgium, decades of decentralization and institutional reforms have transformed the countrywide social insurance system into one of the last institutions preventing the country from totally dissolving as a political community. Indeed, many Francophones equate the potential federalization of that system with the effective end of Belgium. In the case of Flanders, social policy preferences have permeated identity much less. One reason for this is that Flemish nationalism remains much more centred on language and culture than does Scottish or even Québécois nationalism. Another possible reason is the ideological bent of the nationalist movement in Flanders (right of centre), which produces a political discourse focused on personal responsibility and entrepreneurship rather than equality and social solidarity. Contrary to Scotland and Quebec, therefore, nationalist ideological commitments favour less, rather than more, redistribution and social solidarity, which might make the (Flemish) national identification with social policy less likely. 198

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In addition to the importance of symbols, discourse, and identities to the connection between nationalism and social policy, disagreement over the substance of policies can also be central to nationalist claims for decentralization. In this context, left–right ideological and political struggles become especially crucial. This was clearly the case in Scotland where the Thatcher government’s approach to social policy proved widely unpopular. Of course, Scotland had much to lose from the Conservatives’ retrenchment policies given, for example, its higher unemployment rates than was the case in southern England; yet nationalist opposition was framed in terms of deep differences in cultural values and political ideology. The emergence of the connection between Scottish nationhood/nationalism and social policy was therefore the product of the opposition to a right-wing British government in an institutional context where no effective mechanism existed to prevent the enactment of neoliberal, retrenchment legislations directly affecting Scotland. Substantive, ideologically driven policy disagreements also became crucial in Belgium, where Flanders’ politics is right-leaning while Wallonia’s is left-leaning. Partly because of this, and partly because unemployment levels are higher in Wallonia, neo-liberal approaches to social policy are more popular in the North than in the South. Social policy may also be used by the state to foster cohesion, a phenomenon captured by the literature on social citizenship. Our study suggests that social policy can serve as a tool to promote not only social cohesion but also national unity. While the study focused on sub-state nationalism, we showed that, in multinational countries, central states could use social policy to promote their unifying national project. Nationbuilding processes at the state level in Canada and the United Kingdom between the 1930s and the 1970s testify to the importance of social policy in the construction and consolidation of the nation associated with the central state. In both countries, the development of the modern welfare state favoured countrywide national unity. This was especially the case in the United Kingdom, because the concentration of formal political power at Westminster combined with the Beveridgian model facilitated an unmediated link between citizens and the British welfare state, whereas Canada’s federal structures empowered the provinces to create their own sets of social programmes. In Belgium, the expansion of post-war social policy may have corresponded with feelings of national cohesion, yet the nation-building capability of social insurance arrangements was limited by the fragmented nature of this Bismarckian system. Belgian post-war national cohesion, however, was quickly overpowered by the strength of 199


Flemish nationalism, a movement putting forth claims in the name of a majority population in the country. 2. Social policy often becomes a major component of the effort of nationalist movements to build and consolidate national identity and an important target for nationalist mobilization. Our study demonstrated that social policy is a powerful nation-building tool in so far as it provides concrete benefits to citizens grounded in the idea of national solidarity. Social programmes are among those policies that most directly affect people’s daily lives, which means that they potentially highlight a positive role for the government enacting them. The logic whereby governments seek to control social policy to highlight their own importance and secure the loyalty of a population appears most clearly in the Quebec case. Since the Quiet Revolution, successive provincial governments have consistently sought to gain and keep control over social policy. In many instances, Quebec took over a programme previously administered by the federal government and replaced it with one that was virtually identical. In other words, the idea is not to gain control of social policy to do something radically different from what already exists, but simply to create another link between the Quebec government and the sub-state national community. From this perspective, nationalist claims for the decentralization of social policy can occur even if the policies implemented by the central state do not radically diverge from sub-state level preferences. In all three of our cases, the decentralization of social policy has also been part of a larger political project whose nationalist logic reaches social policy development. In Quebec, nationalist claims over social policy are articulated either in the spirit of independence or of asymmetrical federalism. In Scotland, it was part of the drive towards devolution, and it still features in the SNP’s case for independence. In Belgium, claims for the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system by Flemish political parties have been articulated in the context of a long-term objective of further decentralizing Belgian federalism, perhaps to the point of establishing a type of confederal structure between Flanders and Wallonia, or simply achieving Flanders’ independence. 3. The focus of nationalist movements on social policy is not simply the product of economic self-interest, yet references to the fairness of financial transfers between territorial entities become effective mobilization strategies. 200

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It could be tempting to dismiss the singularity of the relationship between sub-state nationalism and social policy by viewing nationalist mobilization and claims for decentralization as simply driven by the prospect of economic gain. The case of Belgium seems to support this type of argument because claims for the decentralization of certain components of the Belgian social insurance system have much to do with socioeconomic factors: Flanders is wealthier than Wallonia, which means that this system implicitly transfers financial resources from the North to the South. Yet we should not read too much into the Belgian case for generalizing the relationship between socio-economic conditions and nationalist pressures supporting the decentralization of social policy. At first glance, it could seem that nationalist leaders behave as purely rational and self-interested economic actors in struggling to find institutional arrangements that limit or stop the transfer of financial resources from their community to another community. However, this view overlooks the fact that Flemish claims for the decentralization of the Belgian social insurance system are part of a larger nationalist project seeking a more comprehensive decentralization of Belgium. This is a political rather than an economic project, one that includes strong linguistic and cultural dimensions. In addition, the cases of Quebec and Scotland indicate that nationalist pressure on social policy is not only about financial considerations, and that assuming a straightforward cost-benefit analysis on the part of actors does not paint an accurate picture of the operative political dynamic. In Scotland, the partial decentralization of social policy entailed some uncertainty with respect to the extent of social policy development that might be possible with devolution, despite the Barnett formula arrangement. Quebec governments before the 1960s sometimes refused to have the federal government develop new programmes in the province, despite not receiving financial compensation when they ‘opted-out’ of such programmes. Moreover, the SNP in Scotland and the PQ in Quebec both include a social policy dimension in their case for independence, despite the uncertainty surrounding the economic consequences of this political option. Québécois and Scottish nationalist leaders hold to their case that independence allows for the enactment of social policies better suited to their respective communities, even when defending claims that secession would bring short-term economic costs. It is therefore necessary to look beyond pure financial gain to understand the relationship between sub-state nationalism and social policy. 201


4. It is intrinsic to the nature of contemporary (sub-state) nationalism that it puts forward claims about the existence of a national unit of solidarity where co-nationals have a special obligation to each other’s welfare, a situation viewed as being best fulfilled by having control over social policy. In our three cases, nationalist movements want to closely integrate the social solidarity community and the sub-state national community by seeking to either decentralize social policy or preserve political autonomy in this area. At the broadest level, the argument is the same everywhere: social solidarity should exist primarily within the boundaries of the nation as nationalist leaders conceptualize it. This is most clearly articulated in Belgium, where most Flemish parties (with the exception of the Socialists and the Greens) view Francophones as quasi-foreigners who should not benefit from Flemish-generated wealth through mechanisms of territorial redistribution typically associated with Social Security. In Canada and the United Kingdom, claims for the decentralization of social policy by Quebec and Scottish nationalism do not involve cutting off territorial financial transfers, partly because those regions are not the wealthiest in the country. Nevertheless, the idea that social solidarity as expressed through social programmes should first and foremost be situated within national rather than state boundaries is at the heart of nationalist politics in Quebec and Scotland. In both cases, there are some parties (the PQ and SNP, respectively) presenting independence at least partly in terms of achieving a perfect congruence between the nation and the redistributional framework, and others (the PLQ, ADQ, and Scottish Labour) who used a similar logic to back up autonomist claims. 5. Independently of the concrete effect of nationalist movements on policy outcomes, sub-state nationalism impacts the policy agenda and the framing processes that shape the debates over social policy and territorial solidarity in multinational states. Sub-state nationalism has impacted policy agendas at both the sub-state and the state levels. In Quebec and Scotland, the ideological connection between specific values and national identity served to legitimate some policy options (e.g. the affordable day care system and the free personal care for the elderly programme, respectively) at the expense of others. As indicated above, the Flemish government created a dependency insurance programme, but this was more a case of the availability of extra resources combined with a general concern for dependency care than the 202

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result of a substantively original policy vision. Yet the distinctive social policies associated with nationalism in Flanders, Quebec, and Scotland offer the potential to act as agenda-setting forces for the development of similar programmes elsewhere in their respective countries, albeit to varying degrees. This potential is weakest in Belgium. Indeed, Francophone institutions lack the necessary financial resources to implement costly new social programmes, while the federal government does not try to compete with the Flemish nation-building project. Flemish nationalism, however, played an agenda-setting role in Belgium in so far as it opened to public debate the issue of the federalization of the social insurance system by attacking inter-regional transfers. The agenda-setting role of Scottish nationalism in the United Kingdom is potentially greater, because the British government can hardly blame lack of resources for its decision not to implement such programmes as free long-term care for the elderly. The limitation upon the agenda-setting dynamic of Scottish nationalism is that relations between Scotland and the British governments do not commonly involve the type of aggressive and competitive nation-building projects that occur in Canada between the federal and Quebec governments. This is especially true because, until 2007, the same Labour party was in power in both Holyrood and Westminster. Despite exceptions such as the debate over long-term care, this institutional situation favoured policy coordination between Scotland and England rather than direct confrontation. The making of an SNP government in 2007 could change this dynamic. In Canada, sub-state nationalism can concretely affect the policy agenda countrywide because the federal government sometimes attempts to outdo, or at least catch up with, popular social policy initiatives enacted by Quebec’s legislature. Debating the issues they push onto the agenda, nationalist leaders engage in framing activities that attempt to construct the ‘need to reform’ existing policy legacies in the sense of greater policy decentralization. One example mentioned above is the discourse about economic self-interests, which is particularly striking in Flanders. Although we cannot completely reduce nationalist mobilization to economic self-interests, references to the potential economic gains associated with decentralization or even independence are a major aspect of the politics of territorial solidarity in Flanders and elsewhere. The same remark applies to the so-called ‘value gap’ between territorial entities (the idea that a community has sharply different values and priorities than the rest of the country), which nationalist movements refer to in order to legitimize their mobilization in favour of policy decentralization. Although empirical evidence from 203


opinion polls suggests that such a ‘value gap’ is rather limited, 1 nationalist movements transformed this alleged gap into a major political issue that legitimizes their territorial and policy claims. Our analysis suggests that a discourse about the ‘value gap’ is a major component of the politics of territorial solidarity in multinational states. In Flanders, Quebec, and Scotland, the idea that the sub-state nation has values distinct from other parts of the country justifies the quest for social policy decentralization and the enactment of original policies at the sub-state level. The focus on values also serves to help nationalist movements to avoid being labelled as ‘ethnic’. Overall, both the discourse about economic interests and the so-called value gap illustrate the central role of framing processes in the politics of territorial solidarity. 6. The consequences of sub-state nationalism for social policy development are variable, and the presence of strong nationalist movements does not necessarily favour an erosion of welfare at the state or sub-state level. In all three of these case studies, there were substantial pressures for the decentralization of social policy, yet outcomes vary. The Quebec government was able to develop a wide variety of social programmes; the Scottish Executive has implemented some distinctive social policies since devolution; and Flanders developed a dependency insurance programme, although, in Belgium, traditional social insurance schemes like health insurance remain under federal jurisdiction. How do we explain these differences? Institutional forces related to historical timing are the important factor here. Canada has been a federation since its birth in 1867, which means Quebec has enjoyed constitutionally protected autonomy in areas like social assistance since inception. The political strength afforded to Quebec as a result of Canada’s federal structures allowed the province to effectively compete with the federal government for control over social policy. Multi-level social policy governance has always been part of Canada’s institutional arrangements, but Québécois nationalism introduced asymmetry into these structures as post-1960s Quebec governments sought more aggressively than the governments of other provinces to decentralize social policy. As a result, Canadian federalism features considerable asymmetrical elements when considered as a social union: not only does Quebec control social programmes administered by the federal 1 See Lindsay Paterson, ‘Governing from the Centre: Ideology and Public Policy,’ (2002), 207.

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government in other provinces (e.g. the Quebec Pension Plan), but it has remained outside some federal–provincial framework agreements in the social policy domain (such as SUFA) while enjoying special status in others, like the 2004 agreement on health care. Although Scotland has long enjoyed significant administrative and societal autonomy, it lacked formal political autonomy until 1999. The devolution settlement presented it with an opportunity to enact distinct social policy legislation, but financial, constitutional, and political constraints are much greater there than they are within Canada’s federal system. Consequently, the extent of social policy divergence observed in Canada should not be expected in the United Kingdom. Yet in Scotland, devolution has cleared a path to a greater level of differentiation within the British welfare state than ever before. In addition to developing its own long-term care programme for the elderly, the Scottish Executive opted for approaches to social inclusion and health care reform relatively distinct from Westminster’s. Devolution has, without a doubt, complicated the territorial governance of social policy in the United Kingdom, especially considering that Wales and Northern Ireland have also gained a political and institutional basis for legislative differentiation in that area. Belgium is at first glance a puzzling case: tremendous nationalist pressures for decentralizing the Belgian social insurance system has resulted in little change. This is largely because the federalization of the Belgian state came well after the creation of that system, where the social partners (principally business and labour organizations) participate in the management of social insurance schemes. In part for ideological reasons and in part because these actors are still organized at the federal level, they do not support the federalization of the Belgian social insurance system. Furthermore, Belgium’s consociational arrangements for managing intercommunity relations mean that Flemish parties alone cannot decentralize even parts of that system. This is an especially strong obstacle to reform because, as mentioned above, Francophone parties have long united against this policy alternative. This means that Flemish nationalism has had relatively limited effect on social policy arrangements in Belgium. The creation of the dependency insurance scheme may spawn more distinct programmes, although these would need to find a similar niche in a constitutional area distinct from the traditional Belgian social insurance system, which remains under federal jurisdiction. In general, nationalist mobilization has not significantly reduced social provisions in their respective region and country, and in the cases of Scotland and Quebec, these movements have favoured the enactment of 205


policies more generous than those offered in other regions of the country. This suggests that sub-state nationalism, just like federalism, does not necessarily have a negative impact on social policy development, and that nationalist movements can either promote, or oppose, social policy expansion.

Beyond Our Three Cases In addition to our three cases, there are other terrains for exploring specific links between nationalism and social policy. Spain is the only other country where strong nationalist movements coexist with a relatively well-developed social policy system in the context of a liberal democratic society. In Spain the connection between sub-state nationalism and social policy exists, but it seems weaker than in Canada, the United Kingdom, or Belgium. Basque nationalists promote the decentralization of social insurance, but this is done under the broad umbrella of the ‘Ibarretxe plan’ that calls for the establishment of some type of confederal model between the Basque Country and Spain. 2 Basque identity is not defined by a specific social policy framework, nor is Catalan nationalism, whose decentralist claims also do not specifically target social policy. For Catalan nationalism, as for Basque nationalism, the crucial issue stemming from the relationship between their region and the Spanish state is to obtain recognition of national distinctiveness (not an issue for Flanders or Scotland) and to strengthen regional autonomy as a whole. The loose connection between social policy and processes of nationalist mobilization and identity formation is easier to explain in the Basque Country than in Catalonia. Euskadi Ta Askatasuna (ETA) violence has been a central political focus since the democratic transition of the 1970s and 1980s, which means that an illusive ‘peace plan’ as well as issues such as the fate of political prisoners and reform/decentralization of the judiciary represented key concerns for the Basque government. In addition, the almost complete fiscal autonomy enjoyed by the Autonomous Community of the Basque Country limits the potential for grievances over territorial redistribution. Perhaps the fact that the Basque political domain is dominated by a centre-right, Christian-democratic party, the Partido nacionalista vasco (PNV), does not favour a connection between territorial identity and social policy, although Christian democratic parties 2

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See Gobierno Vasco, Propuesta de Estatuto Politico de la Comunidad de Euskadi (2003).

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contributed greatly to social policy development in Europe after the Second World War. The same could be true for Catalonia and its main nationalist party, Convergència I Unió (CiU), which was in power between 1980 and 2003. In the Catalan case, the loose connection between nationalist mobilization and social policy may stem from the fact that Catalan nationalism was, at least for the first twenty years or so of the democratic period, overwhelmingly autonomist as opposed to secessionist. In this context, specifically targeting social policy for decentralization could have represented too strong an attack on the Spanish social union. This is, admittedly, only a speculative explanation, but considering the strong secessionist streams in the three cases comprising this study where nationalist mobilization and social policy are strongly intertwined, it is plausible. Certainly, further research about Catalan nationalism could shed more light on the difference between this region and Scotland, Quebec, and Flanders when it comes to decentralist claims and social policy. Sub-state nationalism in Spain, much as is the case for the countries studied in this book, has structured the territorial implementation of social policy. For example, in health care, Spain previously featured ‘special regions’, which were fully autonomous, and ‘ordinary regions’, where there was shared rule between the central government and the government of the Autonomous Community. 3 Predictably, the Autonomous Communities that initially had ‘special region’ status were those with either nationalist or strong regionalist sentiments: Catalonia, Andalusia, the Basque Country, Valencia, Galicia, Navarre, and the Canary Islands. 4 Power over health care was devolved to the remaining Autonomous Communities through a 2001 agreement. The power of Autonomous Communities governments over many aspects of social policy (e.g. social assistance) produced agenda-setting effects in the country at large. Here again, a region with a strong nationalist movement, the Basque Country, established a new programme of income support that received attention in other Autonomous Communities. In 1988, the Basque Government announced the implementation of a regional Plan de Lucha contra la Pobreza (Programme against Poverty). This innovative policy sparked off a regional mimesis, or ‘demonstration effect,’ on the part of the other 16 Spanish Comunidades Autónomas. By the end of [the] 1990s, all 3 Ana Rico, Marta Fraile, and Pablo González, ‘Regional Decentralisation of Health Policy in Spain: Social Capital Does Not Tell the Whole Story’ (1999), 185. 4 Raquel Gallego, Ricard Gomà, and Joan Subirats, ‘Spain. From State Welfare to Regional Welfare?’ (2005), 106.

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Nationalism and Social Policy Spanish mesogovernments had implemented regional programmes of minimum income, which combine means-tested cash benefits with policies of social insertion (employment promotion and vocation training schemes, primarily). 5

Therefore, despite the weaker link between sub-state nationalism and social policy in Spain, the agenda-setting logic present in our three cases also applies to that country, at least to a certain extent. More research about the relationship between sub-state nationalism, decentralization, and social policy reform in Spain could add to our theoretical understanding of how these processes interact. Research on nationalism and social policy could also examine situations of emerging capitalist welfare states in the context of multinationalism. For example, how is social protection structured in a severely divided country like Bosnia? When looking at this issue in developing countries, research on ethnic politics and the redistribution of wealth might be useful. For example, the territorial division of power inherent to federalism in Nigeria underpins ethnic conflicts around the distribution of oil revenues. 6 Perhaps an even more far-reaching question is the following: is the link between nationalism and social policy unique to multinational/multiethnic states, or is it also present in nation-states such as Germany and the United States? Although more research is needed to provide a systematic answer to this question, we can formulate a few general remarks about the articulation between nationalism, especially in its identity (as opposed to its mobilization) dimension, and social policy in nation-states. First, there is evidence that nationalism can mesh with social policy issues in these states. Consider the example of Sweden, where the ‘social-democratic model’ has long been a powerful symbol of national identity, and where progressive social policy is a crucial aspect of this model. As Hugh Heclo and Henrik Madsen put it: ‘Social Democrats have captured the idea of the nation—they have successfully interpreted the [Swedish] national identity as one of an ever-reforming welfare state.’ 7 This seems true even today, as the growing influence of market liberalism has failed to eliminate political and ideological references to the social democratic model said to make Sweden and other Scandinavian countries 5 Luis Moreno, ‘Europeanization and the Decentralization of Welfare “Safety Nets” ’ (2001), 87–100. 6 John Boye Ejobowah, ‘Who Owns the Oil? The Politics of Ethnicity in the Niger Delta of Nigeria,’ Africa Today 47 (2000): 27–47. 7 Hugh Heclo and Henrik Madsen, Politics and Policy in Sweden, cited in Mark Blyth, Great Transformations: Economic Ideas and Institutional Change in the Twentieth Century (2002): 123.

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unique. 8 Another nation-state with a significant relationship between national identity and social policy is France. For example, since the 1980s, influential authors like Pierre Rosanvallon have argued that the struggle against social exclusion required new social programmes rooted in a coherent model of ‘national solidarity’ that would gradually replace, or at least supplement, the fragmented ‘occupational solidarity’ resulting from the Bismarckian structure of the French social policy system. 9 References to ‘national solidarity’ are related to the concept of social citizenship and to the idea that social exclusion deprives citizens of their basic right to fully participate in the social and economic life of the French republic. From this perspective, social policy and the quest for social inclusion represent a significant aspect of the republican model that is so central to France’s national identity. The discourse over national solidarity that articulates French identity and social policy has been used in the political arena to legitimize the adoption of major social policy reforms in France. 10 And on the far right, populist leader Jean-Marie Le Pen has long argued that immigrants constitute a major threat to the survival of existing social programmes, which is constructed as a key aspect of the French way of life. 11 Thus, references to the relationship between national identity and social policy can become powerful political weapons, even in nation-states. As in multinational countries such as Belgium and Canada, both left- and right-wing forces can mobilize references to this relationship in order to promote their policy vision and their electoral strategies. Yet recent scholarship on pension reform in the aftermath of German reunification shows that, as opposed to what occurred in post-war Canada and the United Kingdom, the allocation of comprehensive social benefits across regional boundaries does not always reinforce national identity. 12 This suggests that the mutually reinforcing relationship between national identity and social policy expansion observed in other cases is not universal. 8 Robert H. Cox, ‘The Path Dependence of an Idea: Why Scandinavian Welfare States Remain Distinct,’ Social Policy & Administration 38 (2004): 204–19. For a discussion about national identity and social democracy in Denmark, see John L. Campbell et al. (eds.), National Identity and Varieties of Capitalism (2006). 9 Pierre Rosanvallon, The New Social Question: Rethinking the Welfare State (2000 [1995]). 10 Daniel Béland and Randall Hansen, ‘Reforming the French Welfare State: Solidarity, Social Exclusion and the Three Crises of Citizenship,’ West European Politics 23 (2000): 47–64. 11 On the Front National, see Peter Davies, The Front National in France: Ideology, Discourse and Power (1999). 12 Simon Hegelich, ‘Can Welfare Expansion Result in Disintegration? The Integration of East Germany into the German Pension System,’ German Politics 13 (2004): 81–105.

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Beyond the German case, there are countries where there is little political connection between nationalism and social policy. In the United States, for example, such a connection seems weak. With the exception of measures like the Civil War Pensions and the 1944 GI Bill, social programmes have seldom been explicitly linked to the US national identity. 13 A current but partial exception to that rule is perhaps Medicare and Social Security, two popular social insurance programmes that cover a large majority of the elderly population. In part because of their near universal coverage, these programmes are sometimes associated with the US flag and other national symbols. When President George W. Bush attempted to transform Social Security, he made sure to depict his reform plan as a patriotic gesture aimed at ‘saving’ this ever-popular programme. 14 Yet beyond that specific issue, it is hard to find any enduring and politically significant connection between social policy and modern US nationalism. 15 Why? Three main factors provide some elements of an answer. First, federal social policy offers a rather limited ‘safety net’, and scholars have rightly pointed out that there is no genuine social citizenship in the United States. 16 The relatively modest scope of the US welfare state, for example, the lack of universal health insurance coverage, could explain in part why social policy is seldom perceived as a source of national unity that political actors can draw upon to advance their electoral and policy agenda. 17 Second, contemporary US national identity is largely embodied in the Constitution and the ideas of freedom and equal opportunity which, in the United States, is closely related to education but not to social policy in the strict sense of the term. 18 Third, as opposed to the situation prevailing in multinational states such as Belgium, Canada, and the United Kingdom, powerful territorial challenges to national unity have 13 On the link between Civil War pensions and US identity, see Theda Skocpol, Protecting Soldiers and Mothers: The Political Origins of Social Policy in the United States (1992). On the GI Bill, see Suzanne Mettler and Eric Welch, ‘Civic Generation: Policy Feedback Effects of the GI Bill on Political Involvement over the Life Course,’ British Journal of Political Science 34, 3 (2004): 497–518. 14 On this issue, see Daniel Béland, Social Security: History and Politics from the New Deal to the Privatization Debate (2005). 15 On the history of US nationalism during the twentieth century, see Desmond King, The Liberty of Strangers: Making the American Nation (2004). 16 Nancy Fraser and Linda Gordon, ‘Contract versus Charity: Why is There no Social Citizenship in the United States?’ Socialist Review 22 (July 1992): 45–68; John Myles, ‘Neither Rights nor Contacts: The New Means Testing in US Aging Policy,’ (1997), 46–55. 17 For a historical account on the lack of universal health insurance coverage in the United States, see Jill Quadagno, One Nation, Uninsured: Why the U.S. has No National Health Insurance (2005). 18 On the US liberal tradition and its challengers, see David F. Ericson and Louisa Bertch Green (eds.), The Liberal Tradition in US Politics: Reassessing the Legacy of US Liberalism (1999).

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been largely inexistent in the United States since the end of the Civil War in 1865. As for the Civil Rights Movement of the 1950s and 1960s, which stimulated the expansion of US social policy during President Johnson’s War on Poverty, it hardly constituted a strict form of territorial politics, despite the fact that it mainly targeted racial policy in the southern states. 19 Since the 1970s, affirmative action and measures against racial discrimination, not social policy, comprised the main responses to the racial divide that remains a major political issue in the United States. 20 Overall, it would be excessive to talk about an enduring link between US nationalism and modern social policy. Again, a significant connection between nationalism and social policy is not universal, and some countries may not feature it owing to factors such as the modest development of social policy and the relative absence of a ‘national unity’ crisis. Yet even these factors may not always prevent a relationship between nationalist discourse and social policy from emerging. In Japan, a country that has a rather modest public social policy system and no significant ‘national unity’ problem, a prominent discourse about the socalled ‘Japanese-style welfare society’ (nihongata fukushi shakai) emerged in the late 1970s as part of a reform campaign launched by the powerful Liberal Democratic Party. During the following decade, references to this vision of Japanese identity and values represented a way to make a strong ideological and cultural case for a more limited role of the state in social policy. 21 This may suggest that one of the most crucial factors accounting for the emergence of an explicit articulation between nationalism and social policy is the mobilization of policy entrepreneurs like parties and social movements seeking to promote their policy agenda by linking it to shared national symbols. As the Japanese example shows, nationalist parties and movements are not the only political actors that can benefit from the political articulation between national identity and social policy. There is strong evidence that social policy can also become a central feature of regionalist movements seeking political autonomy. Regionalism, much like sub-state nationalism, involves the articulation of territorial 19 Frances Fox Piven and Richard A. Cloward, Regulating the Poor: The Functions of Public Welfare (1993 [1971]). 20 For example, William Julius Wilson, The Bridge over the Racial Divide (1999). 21 Ito Peng, ‘Changing Welfare State Culture and Social Policy Reforms in Japan and Korea: Cultural and Institutional Factors’ (2006): 9; Takahashi Mutsuko, Japanese Welfare Society–Analysing the Japanese Welfare Discourses, Acta Universitatis Tamperensis ser A, vol. 462, University of Tampere, Tampere (Ph.D. Dissertation), 1995. We would like to thank Ito Peng and Toshimitsu Shinkawa for their insight regarding the Japanese situation.

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claims often underpinned by a distinct identity. Contrary to nationalist movements, however, regionalist movements do not typically put forth their claims in reference to the existence of a nation, which typically leads to more targeted and modest forms of territorial politics. 22 Two examples support our claim that regionalist politics may also feature a connection with social policy. First, in Italy, the Northern League represents a potent regionalist movement that criticizes interregional financial redistribution between the wealthy North and the poorer South. 23 Here the similarity between the regionalist discourse of the Northern League and the discourse of Flemish nationalism, especially Vlaams Belang’s, is rather striking. For both the Northern League and Flemish nationalism, inhabitants of the South are too dependent upon seemingly unfair fiscal and social policy transfers between their wealthier region and the poorest parts of the country. This view underpins requests for a massive reduction in inter-regional transfers. In Italy, the Northern League has not only formulated a powerful discourse against interregional redistribution, but its presence in the Berlusconi coalition helped it shape the content of recent Italian social policy measures, notably in the field of pension reform. 24 Another example of a wealthy region where political leaders seek to reduce inter-regional transfers and create a narrower sense of territorial solidarity is the oil-rich Canadian province of Alberta. The province is a net contributor to Canada’s equalization programme, but there is a sense of political and territorial alienation related to the fact that the province is poorly represented by the federal Liberal Party of Canada, which has been in power for most of Canada’s history. Former Alberta Conservative Premier Ralph Klein, who mused about partially privatizing health care against the will of the federal Liberal government, also talked about the possibility of creating a fiscal and institutional ‘firewall’ around the province. Interestingly, since 22 Admittedly, the difference between nationalist and regionalist movements is fluid and sometimes hard to pin down empirically. A form of territorial mobilization akin to nationalism is the mobilization of Aboriginal populations and organizations in countries such as Canada, New Zealand, and Australia. In the case of Aboriginal politics in these countries and others (e.g. in Latin America), processes of identity formation and territorial mobilization definitely mesh with social policy issues because Aboriginals generally face much higher levels of unemployment and poverty than do non-Aboriginals. In addition to cultural and territorial claims, Aboriginal leaders formulate social policy demands that often become central to their mobilization strategies. See, for example, Assembly of First Nations [Canada], Resolution 19 (First Nations Social Policy), 2002. 23 For a general account of the Northern League, see Damian Tambini, Nationalism in Italian Politics: The Stories of the Northern League, 1980–2000 (2000). 24 David Natali and Martin Rhodes, ‘The Berlusconi Pension Reform and the “Double Cleavage” in Distributive Politics’ (2005), 172–89.

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the mid-1990s, the federal Liberal party (in power until the election of a Conservative government in 2006) launched a nationalist discourse around the Canadian Health Act to fight Alberta’s push for health care privatization. 25 For the Liberal Party, ‘welfare state nationalism’ 26 can become a powerful tool against both regionalist movements and overtly neo-liberal proposals. Overall, the examples of the Northern League and Alberta indicate that the politics of territorial solidarity can take a regionalist, rather than a sub-state nationalist, form and that, as the Canadian example suggests, state nationalism can clash with regionalism over key social policy issues. 27 Debates over multiculturalism have also prominently featured social policy issues. According to authors such as Alan Wolfe and Jyette Klausen, ethnic diversity, and more importantly, its formal recognition in the public arena through the adoption of multicultural policies, can weaken economic national solidarity as the foundation of modern social policy. 28 This suggests that the reconstruction of national identity through multiculturalism could undermine the very foundations of progressive social policy. However, recent scholarship suggests that multiculturalism does not constitute a significant threat to modern social policy, and that different countries where multicultural policies exist can nevertheless sustain comprehensive social programmes. 29 Yet as the example of ‘race relations’ in the United States suggests, scholars of ethnic relations should take social policy seriously as an identity issue. Although social policy is not a central aspect of national identity in the United States, the presence of enduring ethnic and racial tensions means that identity politics and 25 For example, this was the case during the 2004 federal elections when then Alberta Premier Ralph Klein made remarks about a possible health care plan that allowed federal Liberal Leader Paul Martin to wrap ‘himself into single-tier health care, which, for many Canadians, is a surrogate expression of national identity’. Richard Gwyn, ‘Klein’s Breath of Life,’ Embassy: Diplomacy this Week, 1, 9 (23–29 June 2004): 4. On Alberta’s neo-liberal regionalism, see Trevor Harrison (ed.), The Return of the Trojan Horse: Alberta and the New World (Dis)Order (2005). 26 Nicola McEwen, ‘State Welfare Nationalism: The Territorial Impact of Welfare State Development in Scotland,’ Regional and Federal Studies 12 (2002): 66–90. 27 The examples of the Northern League and Alberta do not mean that social policy regionalism is only present in wealthy regions seeking to reduce the level of inter-regional redistribution. In Canada, for example, social policy cutbacks enacted under the first Chrétien government (1993–7) created a strong regionalist reaction in the poorer Maritime Provinces (Newfoundland, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and Prince Edward Island). For example: John Geddes and Julian Beltrame, ‘A Sense of Timing: Liberals Have to Trust Chrétien that Voters Will Not Lash Out against a Fall Election,’ Macleans 113, 41 (9 October 2000): 18–19. 28 Alan Wolfe and Jyette Klausen, ‘Identity Politics and the Welfare State,’ Social Philosophy and Policy 14, 2 (1997): 213–55. 29 Keith Banting and Will Kymlicka (eds.), Multiculturalism and the Welfare State: Recognition and Redistribution in Contemporary Democracies (2006).

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social policy issues can mesh, sometimes explosively. The numerous (and generally implicit) references to the behaviour and cultural characteristics of African-Americans in the long national debate leading to the 1996 federal welfare reform substantiates this claim. 30 If the analysis of identity formation and territorial politics formulated in the present book can shed light on regionalism, and even on multiculturalism, it may also help scholars better understand the political construction of a supra-state unit such as the European Union (EU). As suggested above, social policy is a significant aspect of national identity in a number of European countries, and European integration has sometimes been depicted as a neo-liberal attack against comprehensive social programmes. 31 In order to increase its legitimacy on the left, the EU has promoted the rather vague idea of a ‘European Social Model’ that unifies Europe while distinguishing it from the United States and other regions of the world. Yet the involvement of the European Union in the field of social policy remains limited, and scholars such as Bruno Théret argue that only the construction of a genuine European welfare state could bring about a true political union that European citizens would find legitimate. 32 Despite this, European integration is already weakening the boundaries of modern social citizenship in European countries while creating a supra-state space for social rights through decisions of the European Court of Justice. 33 Meanwhile, European integration is a political and social dilemma in small but wealthy countries like Norway and Switzerland that have, owing partly to fear of losing a ‘national model’ that can involve social policy references, not formally joined the European Union, despite apparent economic incentives to do so. In the case of Switzerland, however, social policy issues cannot really explain the reluctance to join the European Union, as distinct traditions and institutions such as neutrality and direct democracy, not social programmes, are central to the ‘Swiss model’. 34 Yet the fear of losing a 30 Sanford Schram, Joe Soss, Richard C. Fording (eds.), Race and the Politics of Welfare Reform (2003). For an historical perspective see Jill Quadagno, The Color of Welfare: How Racism Undermined the War on Poverty (1994). 31 On this issue, see Thomas Banchoff and Mitchell P. Smith, Legitimacy and the European Union: The Contested Polity (1999). 32 Bruno Théret, Protection sociale et Fédéralisme: L’Europe dans le miroir de l’Amérique du Nord (2002). 33 Maurizio Ferrera, ‘European Integration and National Social Citizenship: Changing Boundaries, New Structuring?’ Comparative Political Studies 36, 6 (August 2003): 611–52. See also Maurizio Ferrera, The Boundaries of Welfare: European Integration and the New Spatial Politics of Social Protection (2005). 34 Cultural anxiety among German-speaking citizens is another factor undermining support for European integration in Switzerland. In this country, opposition to EU membership

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country’s ‘national model’ is not necessarily an obstacle to European integration as political actors can reframe supra-national integration as the only way to ‘save’ what constitutes the true substance of such ‘national models’. For example, the above-mentioned idea that social democracy is a central aspect of Swedish identity did not prevent that country from joining the European Union in 1995. To justify that decision, the Swedish government explicitly stated that European integration represented the best way to preserve the country’s high level of prosperity and social protection. 35 But the fact that Swedish public opinion is extremely reluctant to support the adoption of the Euro suggests that fears regarding the impact of European integration on the ‘Swedish model’ remain strong. 36 Even in countries that are part of the currency union, European integration is sometimes perceived as a major threat against economic solidarity and existing social programmes. In France, for example, the perception that European integration, especially after the inclusion of ten new members primarily from Central and Eastern Europe in 2004, could mean more economic insecurity and less social protection played a significant role in the referendum campaign that saw the defeat of a European Constitution. In that country, there was a sense that neo-liberal European integration represented a major threat against comprehensive social programmes and the collective identity and solidarity embedded in them. 37 This defeat of the EU Constitution at the May 2005 French referendum occurred despite the fact that, for two decades, mainstream politicians expended a great deal of effort to reconstruct French identity as compatible with European integration. 38 More research is needed to capture the potential clash between national identities related in part to social policy and the construction of supra-national territorial identities and institutions like the European Union. is strongest in rural, German-speaking cantons. See Tobias Theiler, ‘The Origins of Euroscepticism in German-speaking Switzerland,’ European Journal of Political Research 43 (2004): 635–56. 35 Sieglinde Gstöhl, ‘Scandinavia and Switzerland: Small, Successful and Stubborn towards the EU,’ Journal of European Public Policy 9 (2002): 529–49. 36 On these issues, see Ian Black, ‘Hopes High as Sweden Takes Helm of EU: Enlargement Top of Agenda as Stockholm Leads Union for First Time,’ Guardian, 1 January 2001. 37 Ironically, members of both the left and the right claimed responsibility for the ‘no’ victory on the night of the French referendum on the European Constitution. Yet during the campaign, the main left-wing (Parti Socialiste) and right-wing (Union pour un Mouvement Populaire) parties supported the EU Constitution and invited their members to vote ‘yes’ at the referendum. See Immanuel Wallerstein, ‘The Ambiguous French “No” to the European Constitution,’ Forum de l’IRIS, 15 June 2005. 38 Martin Marcussen et al., ‘Constructing Europe: The Evolution of French, British, and German Nation-State Identities,’ Journal of European Public Policy 6 (1999): 614–33.

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Implications for the Study of Nationalism and of Social Policy After suggesting that the nationalism–social policy nexus extends far beyond our three empirical cases, it is possible to explain why our analysis enriches the theoretical debates about nationalism and about social policy. Engaging with theoretical perspectives influential within these two sub-fields, this discussion is the best way to pave the conceptual road for future research on the nationalism–social policy nexus.

Nationalism What does the present research involve for theories of nationalism? At the most comprehensive level, our study finds value in political approaches to nationalism that convey theoretical importance to both elites and institutions. As such, it supports instrumentalist and institutionalist theories of nationalism. Instrumentalism emphasizes the role of elites in shaping, politicizing, and mobilizing national identities. From the instrumentalist perspective, it is the elite who erect boundaries between groups and provide objective markers with subjective meaning. Consequentially, nations are seen as immensely contingent and fluid. This approach makes the strongest statement about nationalism being a form of politics and therefore being driven by power relations. The theoretical source for the formation of nations is the power struggle among elites. From this perspective, strategic agency is the driving force of nationalism: the elite choose to ignite, if not simply invent, national identities through the manipulation of symbols and the reinterpretation of history. The idea that nations are created by elites in the context of power struggles can also have a more historical and contingent slant: for Paul Brass, for example, patterns of elite relationships are as crucial in explaining nationalism as are the elites’ personal motivations. 39 In other words, nationalist politics may be a byproduct of the structure of political competition rather than the direct outcome of strategic decision-making. The connection between nationalism and social policy involves the effort by politicians to instrumentalize social programmes in such a way that they become markers of collective identities. This was the case in all three countries we examined. It is not only that social policies in Quebec and Scotland have created national communities through the building 39

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Paul Brass, Ethnicity and Nationalism: Theory and Comparison (1991).

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of a sense of reciprocity and solidarity, but also that they have been elevated to a symbolic level through strategic political and ideological processes. From a slightly different perspective, our study suggests that political struggles can help us understand how social programmes may end up occupying a central place in the conception of the nation without a carefully designed and sustained effort to achieve such an outcome. The political struggle between Scotland’s political and societal leaders and the Thatcher government that fed the Home Rule Movement is a fine example of such a dynamic. Instrumentalism presents at least one weakness: its marginalization of political institutions. Instrumentalists often leave the impression that elites operate in an institutional vacuum; this is problematic as it can lead to exaggerating the autonomy of elites and the voluntaristic character of nation formation. A body of literature on nationalism exists that stresses the role of various institutional forms. From an institutionalist perspective, territorial and institutional arrangements like federalism and devolution generate processes of national construction by virtue of their boundary-making attributes. 40 Policies of recognition and resource distribution can be seen in the same light because they build target populations, or at least specify a relationship to a group of reference. 41 An institutional argument about nationalism can also be made with reference to electoral and party systems, although such a focus is more amenable to standard instrumentalism. 42 Finally, one can also formulate an institutionalist analysis of nationalism by focusing on the historical trajectory of the state as a whole; this approach is reminiscent of macrostructural modernism, but it may reach further back into history and/or consider more recent periods. 43 Our study has shown that intermediate-level institutional frameworks like federalism mediate the way social programmes factor into nationbuilding. For example, Canada’s federal system, which predates the modern welfare state, helps to explain how Quebec nationalist leaders were able to take control and develop social programmes, which then built up sub-state national solidarity. We have also explained how devolution in the United Kingdom is leading the way towards policy divergence, which could in time accentuate subjective and political distinctiveness 40 Philip Roeder, ‘Soviet Federalism and Ethnic Mobilization,’ World Politics 43 (1991): 196–232; Joan Nagel, ‘The Political Construction of Ethnicity,’ Competitive Ethnic Relations (1986), 93–112. 41 42 Ibid. Donald Horowitz, Ethnic Groups in Conflict (1985). 43 André Lecours, ‘Regionalism, Cultural Diversity and the State in Spain,’ Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development 22 (2001): 210–26.

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between Scotland and England. Overall, the fact that social policy has been a central force in the reproduction and consolidation of national identity in our three cases supports the claim that nations are constructed partly through political institutions. Our study also outlines the limitations of some theories of nationalism. The fact that Scottish and Québécois nationalism would strive for the decentralization of social policy, indeed all the way to independence for the PQ and SNP, confronts the basic assumption of rational choice theory, which emphasizes cost-benefit calculations in explaining nationalism and support for nationalist claims. 44 Our study also casts doubts on theories of nationalism, such as primordialism and perennialism, 45 which stress the inherent impact and meaning of culture and identity on politics. In Scotland and Quebec, surveys suggest that differences in values pertaining to redistribution and social priorities are fairly minimal and do not seem to justify assertions of fundamental difference put forth to support claims for decentralization. From a conceptual standpoint, our study speaks to the distinction between sub-state and state nationalism. On the one hand, sub-state nationalism, in the form of nationalist movements, operates within the state and seeks some form of political autonomy (or simply independence) for the community of reference. In Ernest Gellner’s terms, they seek to make the political and national units congruent. 46 On the other hand, state nationalism, at its broadest level, involves an effort to maintain this congruence while, in some instances, it can mean improving it. We can offer some insight into two aspects of this distinction. First, recent academic literature has largely ignored the phenomenon of state nationalism, or has relegated it to its interstate manifestation. In fact, state nationalism is often not recognized as being nationalism at all. Many academics use the concept of patriotism, and state politicians consistently refer to themselves as ‘patriotic’, rather than ‘nationalistic’. The reality, however, is that the logic of state action when it comes to the construction and promotion of identity, the definition of collective interests, and political mobilization around symbols and narratives represents 44 See Antonio Barreto, ‘Constructing Boundaries: Ethnic Boundaries and Elite Preferences in Puerto Rico,’ Nationalism and Ethnic Politics 7 (2001): 21–40; Michael Hechter, ‘Rational Choice Theory and the Study of Ethnic and Race Relations,’ (1988), 264–79. 45 Primordialism is associated with the work of Harold Isaacs and Clifford Geertz. See Harold Isaacs, Idols of the Tribe: Group Identity and Political Change (1976) and Clifford Geertz, ‘The Integrative Revolution. Primordial Sentiments and Civil Politics’ (1963). Walker Connor qualifies as a perennialist. See Ethnonationalism: The Quest for Understanding (1994). 46 See Ernest Gellner, Nations and Nationalism (1983).

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nationalism. This state nationalism tends to have a lower profile than sub-state nationalism; it is often ‘banal nationalism’. 47 This book suggests that states continuously engage in nation-building through routine and seemingly innocuous practices such as distributing social benefits and delivering social services. In nation-states, where the national identity projected by the state is widely accepted, nation-building practices and nationalist discourses may be taken for granted because they appear so natural. However, our research shows that in multinational states where national boundaries are challenged, state nationalism frequently comes across as confrontational, or at least, as a vigorous obstacle to the political objectives of sub-state nationalism. In sum, the nation-building uses and effects of social programmes developed and administered by the central state supports the very notion of state nationalism as it represents one of its foremost manifestations. 48 Second, influential works on nationalism have argued that sub-state nationalism is necessarily an ‘ethnic’ phenomenon, contrasted with the ‘civicness’ of states, as nationalist movements are essentially defensive reactions against the changes of the modern world. 49 Our study lends support to scholars who have taken exception to this position. 50 Taken on its own, the focus of nationalist movements on social policy corresponds to a civic conceptualization of the nation, as membership is defined by virtue of inclusion in the social solidarity community and the tacit acceptance of the values and principles underpinning it. In fact, nationalist movements may focus on social policy issues partly in an attempt to shed the tag of ethnic nationalism. As nationalist movements secure cultural and linguistic protection, and as they gain autonomous political institutions, nationalist politics becomes much more complex than the ethnic dimension that might once have been dominant.

Social policy What is the meaning of our study for the analysis of social policy? The best way to answer this question is to discuss it in relation to three major approaches to social policy development: the culturalist model, the 47

Michael Billig, Banal Nationalism (1995). Nicola McEwen, Nationalism and the State: Welfare and Identity in Scotland and Quebec (2006). 49 Eric Hobsbawm, Nations and Nationalism since 1780. Programme. Myth. Reality (1992). 50 Michael Keating, Plurinational Democracy: Stateless Nations in a Post-Sovereign Era (2001). 48

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power resource approach, and historical institutionalism. This discussion suggests that students of social policy have much to learn from nationalist mobilization in the politics of social policy. One prominent theoretical approach in the field of social policy research that is particularly relevant for this discussion is the culturalist perspective, which focuses on cultural values as a key variable that affects policy outcomes and explains cross-national differences. For those who share this broad theoretical perspective, a historically constructed set of ‘national values’ structures the political life of every country. 51 These values consist of expectations and taken-for-granted assumptions about economic and social realities. For proponents of the culturalist approach, normative differences may explain cross-national variation in economic, military, and social policy. Shared normative beliefs shape the political life of a country while reducing the number of options available to policymakers. Large-scale identities and values structure political behaviour and policy outcomes. 52 Therefore, culturalist scholars argue that there is a causal link between the social and economic perceptions of the population and legislative outcomes. 53 In this context, the specific shape of the social policy system reflects a set of national values that can be measured through surveys. 54 Although public views probably impact social policy development in every country, explanations that refer to national values to explain crossnational differences generally assume that public policies are merely the outcome of popular beliefs, rather than the reverse. This type of explanation also obscures the concrete ‘political processes by which public opinion or cultural values are translated into policy outcomes, thus flirting with the Panglossian conclusion that mass publics always and everywhere 51 Seymour Martin Lipset, Continental Divide: The Values and Institutions of the United States and Canada (1990); Louis Hartz, Liberal Tradition in America: An Interpretation of American Political Thought Since the Revolution (1991). For a critique of the culturalist perspective concerning nationalism, see André Lecours, ‘Theorizing Cultural Identities: Historical Institutionalism as a Challenge to the Culturalists,’ Canadian Journal of Political Science 33 (2000): 499–522. In a recent article, US sociologist Brian Steensland offered an amended version of the culturalist approach to social policy development: ‘Cultural Categories and the American Welfare State: The Case of Guaranteed Income Policy,’ American Journal of Sociology 111 (2006): 1273–326. 52 John L. Campbell, ‘Ideas, Politics, and Public Policy,’ Annual Review of Sociology 28 (2002): 21–38. 53 For example: Daniel Levine, Poverty and Society: The Growth of the American Welfare State in International Comparison (1988). On this issue, see Theda Skocpol, ‘Thinking Big: Can National Values Explain the Development of Social Provision in the United States? A Review Essay,’ Journal of Policy History 2 (1990): 425–38. 54 In his book, Lipset himself formulates this type of analysis in order to explain major policy differences between Canada and the United States. See Lipset, Continental Divide, 136–51.

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get what they want from government’. 55 Our analysis of the politics of territorial solidarity took this remark into account, but what this analysis suggests is that the discourse about national values can become a major aspect of this type of politics. The above discussion about the ‘value gap’ provides grounding for this claim. From this perspective, the political and social discourse about ‘national values’ probably matters more than do the value differences themselves. Overall, the idea that a territorial community has a distinct social ethos legitimizes policy decentralization or the enactment of distinct policies at the state level. This remark points to the role of ideas and discourse in policy-making and in the politics of territorial solidarity. In contrast with the culturalist perspective, the power resource approach is centred on class mobilization. According to this approach, social policy outcomes are largely determined by the struggle between labour and capital. Consequently, there is a strong correlation between labour’s strength (i.e. union membership and party representation) and social policy’s degree of comprehensiveness. In countries where the labour movement is politically divided and has a limited membership, social programmes are generally residual and limited in scope. 56 Following the power resource perspective, our analysis of the relationship between nationalism and social policy paid serious attention to political mobilization and electoral factors. Yet as opposed to what this perspective suggests, our work shows that, in multinational states, group mobilization in the politics of social policy extends beyond the traditional opposition between labour and capital. 57 In addition to labour unions and business organizations, nationalist movements can impact social policy development significantly. Furthermore, our analysis stresses the utility of taking the potential alliances and conflicts between the labour movement and nationalist actors into account in these states. Historical institutionalism is a central perspective in the contemporary scholarly debates on social policy development and retrenchment. 58 For 55 Daniel Béland and Jacob S. Hacker, ‘Ideas, Private Institutions, and American Welfare State ‘Exceptionalism’: The Case of Health and Old-Age Insurance, 1915–1965,’ International Journal of Social Welfare 13 (2004): 42–54. 56 Gösta Esping-Andersen, Politics Against Markets: The Social Democratic Road to Power (1985); Walter Korpi, The Democratic Class Struggle (1983). 57 In recent years, feminist scholars have argued that women’s groups can also matter in the politics of social policy. See Theda Skocpol, Protecting Soldiers and Mothers (1992). 58 See, for example, Sven Steinmo, Kathleen Thelen, and Franck Longstreth (eds.), Structuring Politics: Historical Institutionalism in Comparative Analysis (1992); Skocpol, Protecting Soldiers and Mothers; Ann Shola Orloff, The Politics of Pensions: A Comparative Analysis of Britain, Canada, and the United States, 1880–1940 (1994); Ellen M. Immergut, Health Politics:

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this perspective, ‘political institutions shape (but do not determine) political conflict by providing interest groups with varying opportunities to veto policy’. 59 Formal political institutions affect the way interest groups and territorial entities access political resources and influence policymaking. Beyond the role of formal political institutions, institutionalist scholars have relied on the concept of policy feedback to describe how previously enacted policies impact policy-making. More than any other, the concept of policy feedback truly makes institutionalism ‘historical’, because it shows how decision-makers have to take into account vested interests created by well-established social programmes. 60 Our empirical analysis confirms the tremendous value of institutionalist insights about the influence of formal institutions and policy legacies on the politics of social policy in multinational states. For example, the analysis of the contemporary debate over the decentralization of social insurance schemes in Belgium stresses the enduring weight of party structures and policy legacies on social policy development. Beyond confirming the structuring role of formal institutions and policy legacies in social policy development, our analysis enriches the concept of policy feedback associated with the historical institutionalist perspective. From that viewpoint, policies not only create powerful constituencies that can influence future policy decisions along the way; in multinational states and beyond, policies help create enduring territorial identities that mesh social programmes and national symbols. This shows that public policies are not mere technocratic responses to social and economic problems. As political and ideological constructions, public policies interact with powerful territorial and identity-building logistics which scholars of public policy could take more seriously than is too often done. In the future, these scholars could investigate the potential articulation between public policy and all forms of territorial mobilization and identity formation discussed above (sub-state nationalism, state nationalism, regionalism, supra-state integration). As for nationalism specialists, the Interests and Institutions in Western Europe (1992); Paul Pierson, Dismantling the Welfare State? Reagan, Thatcher, and the Politics of Retrenchment (1994); Sven Steinmo, Taxation and Democracy: Swedish, British, and American Approaches to Financing the Modern State (1993). 59 Stephen J. Kay, ‘Unexpected Privatizations: Politics and Social Security Reform in the Southern Cone,’ Comparative Politics 31 (1999): 403–22. See also George Tsebelis, ‘Decision Making in Political Systems: Veto Players in Presidentialism, Parliamentarism, Multicameralism, and Multipartyism,’ British Journal of Political Science 25 (1995): 289–315. 60 Andrea Louise Campbell, How Policies Make Citizens: Senior Citizen Activism and the American Welfare State (2003).

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present contribution suggests that more serious attention should be paid to the potential impact of social policy on processes of territorial mobilization and identity formation. Scholarship on nationalism could also focus more extensively on the effect of other forms of public policy on mobilization and identity. 61 Traditionally, nationalism studies usually emphasized the role of education, language, and telecommunication policies, as these policy areas are traditionally associated with nationalist claims. Yet in addition to such policies and the social programmes discussed above, public policies dealing with everything from policing to the environment and to labour relations may factor into nationalist discourse and mobilization, depending on the context. Overall, the present study may offer social scientists a framework useful for investigating the changing relationship between identity formation, territorial mobilization, and public policy. 61 On the general link between nationalism and public policy, see Jan Erk, ‘ “Wat We Zelf Doen, Doen We Beter”: Belgian Substate Nationalisms, Congruence and Public Policy,’ Journal of Public Policy 23 (2003): 201–24.

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Index

Aboriginal politics 212n ABVV/FGTB (Algameen Belgisch Vakverbond/ Fédération Générale des Travailleurs Belges) 182, 184–6 ACV/CSC (Algemeen Christelijk Vakverbond/Confédération des Syndicats Chrétiens) 182–4 ADQ (Action démocratique du Québec) 69, 72, 73–4, 91–2, 93 Agalev 172, 178 agenda-setting 27–9, 202–4 Flemish nationalism 162, 171, 180, 190–2, 195, 202, 204, 205 Québécois nationalism 83–7, 89–90, 92 Scottish nationalism 131–7, 140–1 Spanish sub-state nationalism 207–8 Alberta, Canada 53, 212–13 Alexander, Douglas 115 anti-clericalism 148 Attlee, Clement 106 autonomy 5, 16, 21, 23, 25, 26, 33, 34, 36 administrative 102–4, 109, 142 Canadian provincial 50, 57, 81, 84–6 political 30, 44, 45, 46 Quebec 73, 74 Spanish regions 207 Basque nationalism 13, 23, 34, 206–8 Baudewyns, Pierre and Dandoy, Régis 179 Belgian Communist Party 157 Belgian Green Party 157 Belgium 4, 5, 6, 13, 27, 49, 107, 139 business organizations 186–8 Communities and Regions 158 constitutional reform 157–60 decentralization debate in 145, 155, 157–60, 165–96, 200, 201, 203, 222 economic restructuring 155–6 federalism 24, 30, 31, 34 history 147–8 inter-regional financial transfers 154–6, 162–5

248

language 23, 147, 148, 149–50, 156, 157, 160–1, 182, 198 Liberal, Socialist and Christian pillars of society 147, 148, 150, 151, 153, 184 methodological issues 37–40 national cohesion 199–200 nationalism-social policy nexus 192–6 Nazi occupation 152, 154 party politics 156–7 political crises in 155–6 social elections 182, 184 social insurance 18–19, 114, 205 social solidarity 202 Third Way 189 voluntary welfare 151, 153, 154 Bennett, Prime Minister Richard 48 Beveridge, Sir William 49, 106 Blair, Tony 124, 133, 136 Boisclair, André 74 Bosnia 208 Bouchard, Lucien 72, 77 Bourassa, Premier Robert 56, 64 BQ (Bloc Québécois) 70 Brass, Paul 216 British Columbia, Canada 53 British Empire 44, 94n, 104, 107 Britishness 94, 103, 104, 107, 112, 116, 128, 143 Brodie, Janine 53 Brown, Gordon 107, 115, 143, 144 Brussels 169, 177 Bush, President George W. 210 business groups 33, 221 Calvinism 99, 147 Canada 4, 5, 6, 13, 17, 27, 190, 199, 203 Alberta 52–3, 212–13 bilingualism 23, 82 Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) 56 constitutional amendment 64–6, 67 Dominion-Provincial Conference on Reconstruction (1945) 50–1

Index Family Allowance Act 49 federal-provincial legislation 53 federal social policies 48–52 federalism 30–1, 41–8, 60, 67, 70, 77, 82–6, 92, 95, 114, 204–5, 217 fiscal centralization 51 foundation of 43, 53 Health and Social Transfer 75–6 health care 52–3, 57, 77, 79, 86, 198, 205, 212–13 Hospital Insurance and Diagnostic Services Act (1957) 53, 54 Marsh report (1943) 49 Medical Care Act (Canada, 1966) 58, 71 methodological issues 37–40 Old Age Pensions Act (1927) 47–8, 52 Old Age Security programme 51–2, 63 pensions 51–2, 57–8, 83–4, 205 provincial government 45, 47–8, 51, 52–3, 57, 58, 60, 76, 77, 212–13 regionalism 212–13 social policy retrenchment 67, 68, 74–82 US Free Trade Agreement 64, see also Quebec Catalan nationalism 13, 23, 34, 206 Catholic Church 33, 44, 46–8, 51, 55, 98, 99, 103, 148–9, 150–1, 183 CDH (Centre Démocrate Humaniste) 170 CD&V (Christen-domocratisch en Vlaams) 172, 174–5, 178 centralization 48–9, 50–2, 138 Charest, Premier Jean 71–2, 73, 74, 78, 86, 90 charity 46 Charlottetown Accord (1992) 66 chauvinism 14 child care 68–9, 72, 73, 87, 90, 124, 198 Chrétien, Jean 75, 77 Christian democracy/Christian democratic parties 21 Belgium 147, 151, 157, 172, 174, 177 Spain 206–7 churches 33 citizenship 20–1 loyalty 21 social 106, 107, 108, 112, 113, 210, 214 civil society 61–2, 68, 69, 70, 72, 73, 91, 93, 133, 151 class conflict 15, 22 clericalism 148 communication technologies 35n, 223 competition 30–1, 35, 187, 216 Connor, Walker 14

Conservative Party (Scotland) 126–7, 140–1 Conservative Party (UK) 95, 104, 111, 112–23, 124, 133, 143, 199 conservative politics 17, 33 corporatism 18, 61, 64, 70, 91, 133 Corsica 11n culture 1n, 16, 20, 23–4, 25, 27, 41, 43, 103, 158, 219–21 currency control 45 CVP (Christelijke Volkspartij) 157 David, Françoise 67 Davidson, Neil 98–9 day care, publicly funded 68–9, 72, 73, 87 De Vits, Mia 189 decentralization 2, 13, 24, 25, 26, 28, 30–1, 197–8 asymmetrical 83, 159 Belgian social insurance system 145, 155, 157–60, 165–96, 200, 201, 203 Scotland and 97, 140 social policy 22–3, 29, 32, 33–4, 36, 81, 88–9, 92, 200, 202, 218 unilateral 75–6 Denmark 189, 190 dependency insurance scheme (Flanders) 171, 180, 190–2, 195, 202, 204, 205 Destrée, Jules 149 Dethée, Michel 162 Deutsch, Karl 13 developing countries 208 devolution 13, 30, 95–6, 111, 117, 119, 120–3, 139–42, 200, 205, 217, see also Scotland Dicey, A. V. 99 disability 51, 162, 164 Dumont, Mario 73, 74 Duplessis, Premier Maurice 51 Durham, Lord 43 Dutch language 149, 150, 158, 160–1 economic regulation 61, 65 economic solidarity 24, 111, 116, 124, 138, 215 education 3, 123, 223 Catholic Church and 46, 47 Quebec 54, 55 Scotland 100–1, 121 egalitarianism Quebec 69, 70, 71, 95, 198 Scotland 95, 101, 117, 123, 198 elderly, care of the 134–5, 137, 141, 205

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Index eligibility criteria, social services 24, 74–5, 153 employment policy 159 England 4, 102, see also Scotland; United Kingdom entrepreneurship 58, 70, 84, 126, 167, 194, 198 environmentalism 126, 176 ethnic minorities 67, 74, 112 ethnicity 14–15, 219 EU (European Union) 14, 36–7, 214–15 European Court of Justice 6n, 214 family allowances Belgium 151–2, 153, 154, 159, 174, 181 Canada 49, 51, 57 FDF (Front Démocratique des Francophones) 156 federalism 2, 22, 24, 25 Belgium 34, 145, 158–60 Canadian 30–1, 41–8, 60, 67, 70, 77, 92, 95, 114, 204–5, 217 national unity 55–6 social policy and 30–1, 206 ‘with a footnote’ 84–6 feminism 61, 62–3, 67, 68, 79–80 Ferrera, Maurizio 20 flags 24, 210 Flanders 23, 32, 38, 39, 95n, 139, 145 dependency insurance scheme 171, 180, 190–2, 195, 202, 204, 205 draft constitution 177–9 family allowances 152 federalization of social insurance debate 165–8, 171–9, 203 and Francophones 155–6 inter-regional financial transfer studies 162–3 labour shortage issue in 189 language issue 161 national stereotypes 166–7, 173 political parties 171–9, 184 socio-economic factors in 32, 155, 161, 162, 181, 193, 194, 198, 201 unemployment rates 154, see also Belgium; Flemish nationalism Flemish nationalism 13, 24, 34, 146–51, 154, 156, 157, 159–62, 176, 190–6, 198, 202, 205, 212, see also Flanders FLQ (Front de libération du Québec) 59, 60 France 49, 99, 101, 103, 104, 147, 190, 208 national identity 209, 215 social insurance schemes 18

250

Francophones (Belgium) 146, 148, 149, 155, 157, 158, 160, 161, 163–4, 168–70, 173, 176, 179, 180–6 veto point 188–90, 191, 195, see also Belgium; Wallonia Francophones (Quebec) 46, 54–5, 59, 82, see also Canada; Quebec free trade 35–6, 64–5 French Community (Belgium) 177, 195 Gellner, Ernest 19, 218 gender 6, 15, 63, 121 Germany 49 pension reform 209–10 social insurance schemes 16, 18 globalization 13, 35–7 Greer, Scott L. 33n, 116 Greer, Scott L. and Jarman, Holly 123 Groen! (environmentalist party) 176 Growth and Stability Pact 36 Hall, Peter 38 Happart, José 161 Harper, Prime Minister Stephen 78, 86, 92 Harris, Premier Mike 72 Hassan, Gerry 117 health care 5, 17, 24, 37, 59, 122 Belgium 154, 158–9, 168, 170, 178 Canada 52–3, 57, 77, 79, 86, 198, 205, 212–13 Catholic Church 46 Conservative reforms 113 NHS (National Health Service) 94, 106–7, 108, 112, 114, 123, 133–4, 136, 198 Quebec 54, 55, 58, 71, 79, 80, 81, 86 Scotland 102, 120–1, 124, 133–8 Spain 207 health insurance 21, 31 Belgium 153, 166, 167, 174, 181, 183–4, 204 Canada 51 Medical Care Act (Canada, 1966) 58 Heclo, Hugh and Madsen, Henrik 208 Highland clearances 103 history 24, 25, 216, 217 hospitalization insurance 53 housing, public sector 59, 105, 107, 109, 122 privatization of 113, 117 Scotland 124 Hutchinson, I. G. C. 116 identity formation 2, 3, 5, 16, 41, see also national identity

Index income-maintenance programmes 17, 18, 24, 48, 59, 69, 129–30, 138 independence movements 27, 33 Quebec 59–67 Scotland 95, 100, 126, 128–9, 140 instrumentalism 216–17 integration 13, 14, 21n, 36–7, 99, 105, 108, 214–15 Ireland 97, 99, 105, 109 Italy 212, 213 Jacobins 145, 148 Japan 211 job training 17 Keynesianism 49, 68, 106 King, William Mackenzie 48 Kinnock, Neil 111 Kirk (Church of Scotland) 98, 100, 103 Klausen, Jyette 213 Klein, Premier Ralph 212, 213n labour mobility 181 Labour Party (Scotland) 118, 119, 124–5, 130 Labour Party (UK) 104, 106, 108, 110, 111, 116, 120, 124, 130, 131–2, 133, 134, 135–6, 143–4 labour training 79 labour unions 16, 18, 33, 47, 127, 221 Belgium 148–9, 151, 153, 156, 182–6, 195 post-devolution policy-making initiatives 132–3, 137 PQ alliance with 60–1, 62, 67, 68, 93 Quebec’s distinct status 70, 91 Scottish devolution 111, 118–19 Landry, Premier Bernard 69 language 24, 25, 27, 41, 43, 95, 223 Belgium 23, 147, 148, 149–50, 156, 157, 160–1, 182, 198 Canada 82 Gaelic 99, 103 Québécois nationalism and 46, 55, 62 sub-state nationalism 23 Laxer, Gordon 76n Le Pen, Jean-Marie 209 Liberal Democrat Party (Japan) 211 Liberal Democrat Party (Scotland) 126, 130, 137 Liberal Party (Canada) 212–13 Liberal Party (UK) 104, 105, 109, 110 Lloyd George, David 105 loyalty 21, 22

McConnell, Jack 124 McCrone, David 95–6 McEwen, Nicola 40 McLeish, Henry 135 macroeconomics 58, 181 Major, John 112, 115, 120, 133 Marshall, Dominique 47 Marshall, T. H. 16, 108 maternity leave 79 means-testing 17, 47–8, 52, 75, 107, 135 Meech Lake Accord (1987) 66 Mooney, Gerry and Williams, Charlotte 122 Mowat, Oliver 46 MR (Mouvement réformateur) 170, 171 Mulroney, Brian 65, 74 multiculturalism 55–6 multinationalism 3–4, 6, 20, 22, 27, 29, 34, 167, 208 myths 24, 53, 101, 123 N-VA (Nieuw-Vlamms Alliantie) 172, 179 nation, definition of 15–16 nation-building 38 competitive 57 Francophone elite and 148 health policy and 53, 79 social policy and 19–23, 36, 41, 42, 49, 50, 92, 199, 200, 219 welfare state and 96, 107 National Children’s Agenda (Canada) 85 national defence 45 national identity 1, 4–5, 14, 196, 197–8 Belgium 169, 192 Britishness 94, 103, 104, 107, 112, 116, 128, 144 Canadian 53, 56, 76, 198 cultural distinctiveness 23–4 Flemish 147, 149, 150, 159, 193, 196 France 209, 215 national 23–5 Québécois 51, 62, 64, 69, 71, 82, 87, 93, 196, 198 religious 44 Scottishness 95, 98–101, 103, 125–6, 128, 133, 138, 143 social policy 18, 23–4, 218 Sweden 208, 215 United States 210–11, 213–14 national unity 28, 29, 55–6, 76, 92, 94, 199 nationalism agenda-setting 27–9, 83–7, 89–90, 92, 140–1, 162, 190–2, 207 Basque 13, 23, 34, 206–8 Belgium 168

251

Index nationalism (cont.) Catalan 13, 23, 34, 206–8 definition 15–16 ethnicity and 14–15, 219 Flemish 13, 24, 34, 146–51, 154, 157, 159–62, 176, 190–6, 198, 203, 205, 212 logic of 23 pension reform and 57–8 Québécois 13, 34, 42, 44–8, 54–74, 198, 201, 202, 204, 218 scholarship on 216–19, 223 Scottish 76, 95, 97, 101, 103, 109–12, 115, 118–23, 126, 138, 141–4, 198, 199, 201, 202, 203, 218 state 14, 23, 38, 218–19 supra-state 14, 36–7, 214–15 Welsh 13 nationalism-social policy nexus Belgium 192–6 ideological factors 33–4 institutional factors 34–5 Quebec 88–93 Scotland 138–44 six claims about 19–32, 197–206 socio-economic factors 32–3 nationalist mobilization 33, 41, 64, 205 Belgium 160–79 Flemish 176 Québécois 41, 64, 76, 77, 79, 81, 88–9 Scotland 97, 139 social policy and 25–6, 76, 77, 79, 81, 200–1 strategies of 25–6 nationalization 106 NDP (New Democratic Party) 57 neo-liberalism 67, 68, 69, 71, 73, 76, 77, 90, 112, 141, 143, 175, 181, 190, 199, 214 Netherlands 167, 190 New Brunswick, Canada 76 New Labour 120, 124, 130, 131, 133, 134, 135–6, see also Labour Party (UK) Newfoundland, Canada 76 NHS (National Health Service) 94, 106–7, 108, 112, 114, 123, 133–4, 136, 198 Nigeria 208 Noël, Alain 85 North America 14, see also Canada; United States Northern Ireland 205 Northern League (Italy) 212, 213 Norway 214 Nova Scotia, Canada 76 NPS (National Party of Scotland) 110

252

old-age pensions 37, 47, 51–2, 75, 105, 153, 159, 181, 184 Ontario, Canada 51, 60, 77 Option citoyenne 79–80 Parizeau, Premier Jacques 66, 67, 68 Partie ouvrier belge 148 Paterson, Lindsay 102, 123 patriotism 218 Payette, Lise 63 pension plans 83–4 pensions 37, 47, 51, 60 Belgium 151, 153, 159, 181, 184 Canada 51–2, 57, 205 ‘claw back’ tax device for 75 Germany 209–10 private 113–14 Quebec 51–2, 57–8, 83–4 Scotland 128, 129 United Kingdom 105, 113–14 PLP (Parti de la liberté et du progress) 157 PLQ (Parti libéral du Québec) 54, 57, 61, 62, 64, 66, 72, 73, 74, 80, 84, 90 political institutions 16, 34–5 poll tax 114–15, 119 Poor Law 102 poverty reduction 5, 17, 69, 70, 102, 106, 124, 128, 207 PQ (Partie québécois) 59–74, 77–8, 84, 89, 91, 93, 218 prescription drug insurance 68–9, 73, 91 primordialism 218 Prince Edward Island, Canada 76 privatization 18n, 71, 95, 112, 113–14, 117, 212 professional associations 33 Progressive Conservative Party (Canada) 65 PS (Parti socialiste) 157, 160, 170, 171, 189, 192 PSC (Partie social chrétien) 157 Puerto Rico 11n PVN (Partido nacionalista vasco) 206 PVV(Partij voor Vrijheid en Vooruitgang) 157 Quebec 38–9, 45–6, 95, 139, 200, 201 ADQ’s rise in 73–4, 91–2, 93 anti-statism 51 Catholic Church 33, 44, 46–8, 51, 55 child care 68–9, 72, 73, 87, 90, 198 constitutional negotiations 65–7 decentralized social policy 53–8 distinct status 66, 69–70, 74, 81, 82, 87, 88, 90–1 economic recession 64

Index family allowance 50 federal retrenchment 68, 77–8 fiscal imbalance issue 78–80, 86–7 health care 54, 55, 58, 71, 79, 80, 81, 86 language 55, 82 nationalism-social policy nexus 88–93 ‘opt out’ of federal social programmes 56–7 pensions 51–2, 57–8, 83–4 poverty reduction 69 prescription drug insurance 68–9, 91 social policy reforms 72–3, 204 sovereignty issue 58–67 unemployment insurance legislation 48 ‘Quebec model’ of state-society relations 61–2 Québec solidaire 80 Québécois nationalism 13, 34, 54–68, 75, 81, 83, 86–94, 150 Quiet Revolution (1960s Quebec) 54–8, 59, 67, 71, 81, 82, 90, 200 Reagan, Ronald 68 ‘reasonable accommodations’ 41 redistribution 20, 21, 22, 26, 27, 60, 61, 95, 120, 138, 166, 198 Scotland 123, 124, 127 territorial 35, 139, 152 wealth 69, 70, 208, 212 regionalism 207, 211–13 Reitan, Earl 117 religion Catholic Church 33, 44, 46–8, 51, 55, 98, 99, 148–9, 150–1 Kirk 98, 100, 103 religious identity 44 retrenchment 21–2, 30, 35, 72, 74–82, 85, 95, 96, 112 Canadian economy 67, 68 historical institutionalism 221–2 United Kingdom 95, 96, 199 Robert the Bruce 98 Rokkan, Stein and Urwin, Derek 94n Romanow Commission on the Future of Health Care (Canada 2002) 79 Rompuy, Paul van 163 Rosanvallon, Pierre 209 RW (Rassemblement wallon) 156 Saskatchewan, Canada 52, 53, 57, 58 school vouchers 73 Scotland 23, 32, 33, 35, 38, 94–5, 201, 203 British imperialism 104–5 care of the elderly 134–5, 137, 141

distinctiveness 135, 139 education 100–1 health care 102, 120–1, 124, 133–8 history 97–105 home rule movement 109–10, 111, 115, 118, 123, 217 Kirk 98, 100, 103 legal system 100 NHS 106–7, 108, 109, 123 political parties in 104, 123–7, see also Labour Party (Scotland); SNP poll tax opposition 114–15, 119 post-devolution social policy 129–38, 205 referenda 111–12, 120–2 Social Attitudes Survey results 127–8 Social Inclusion Network 131–3 socio-economic conditions 142 supervisory boards 101–2 Thatcherism, opposition to 112–23, 140, 199 trade unions 33, see also nationalism, Scottish; United Kingdom Scottish Green Party 124 Scottish Parliament 95, 109, 119–20, 122–3, 124–6, 128, 129, 130, 140 secession 13, 33n, 39, 55, 59, 66, 68, 147 self-reliance 17, 46, 198 SNP (Scottish National Party) 39, 96, 110–11, 118–26, 128–9, 131, 139, 143, 203, 218 social assistance 17, 18, 46, 47, 54, 55, 76, 158, 167 social cohesion 24, 76, 199 social contract 95 social democracy 33, 67 egalitarianism and 21, 59, 60, 63 Quebec nationalism and 59–64 Scandinavia 208–9 Scotland 118, 127–8 social inclusion 20, 23, 131–3, 209 social insurance programmes 17–18, 18–19, 31, 105, 145, 146, 147, 151–96 social justice 95, 140 social partners 18–19, 180, 182–8, 195 social policy 17, 18, 24 asymmetrical decentralization 83–6 centralization 45, 48–52 culturalist perspective of 219–21 decentralization 22–3, 26, 29, 30–1, 32, 33–4, 36, 53–8, 66, 203 definition of 16–17 devolution and 121–2 fairness of financial transfers 25–6, 154–6, 162–5, 200–1, 202, 212

253

Index social policy (cont.) federalism and 30–1 historical institutionalism 221–2 national identities 19–23, 69, 71, 197–200 national solidarity and 20–1, 26–7 nationalist mobilization 23–5, 25–6, 200 power resource approach 221 progressive 68–9 Québécois nationalism 58–65 Scottish devolution and 129–38, 141 solidarity 26–7, 202 sub-state nationalism and 19–23, 30–1, 41, 90–3, 141–4 territorial differentiation 25–6, see also national–social policy nexus; retrenchment social programmes 75 federalism and 30–1 instrumentality of 21–2 national solidarity 20–1 ‘opt out’ 56–7 territorial distribution through 26 types of 17–18 social rights 17, 20, 59–60, 108 social security see income-maintenance programmes solidarity 4, 5, 6, 16, 17, 18, 63, 140, 168, 197–8 civil society 70 class 104, 180, 185 community 34 economic 24, 111, 116, 124, 138, 215 ethnic 55 national 15–16, 20–1, 26–7, 87, 89, 192, 193, 209, 213, 217 occupational 209 religious 55, 147 social 89, 164, 165, 169, 175, 198, 202 social policy and 22–3 territorial 25, 203–4, 212, 221 sovereignty 59 parliamentary 94, 99, 104 popular 98 Quebec 77, 78, 79–80 SP (Socialistische Partij) 157 SP.A (Socialistische Partij Anders) 172, 175–6, 185 Spain 13, 37–8 linguistic struggles 23 sub-state nationalism in 13, 23, 34, 206–8 SSP (Scottish Socialist Party) 124, 126

254

Stalin, Joseph 15n statism 18 STUC (Scottish Trade Union Congress) 111, 132–3 student fees 72, 127, 137, 141 subsidiarity 37, 165 SUFA (Social Union Framework Agreement) 85–6, 205 supranationalism 14, 36–7, 214–15 Sweden 190, 208, 215 Switzerland 214 symbolism 24, 29, 56–7, 199, 216, 217 taxation 49, 50–1, 73, 75, 114–15, 119, 122, 130, 181, 183–4, 186, 187 territorial mobilization 1, 2, 3, 5, 95, 96 Thatcher, Margaret 68, 112, 133 Thatcherism 95, 103, 111, 133, 140 Théret, Bruno 214 trade unions see labour unions tribalism 14 Troclet, Léon-Éli 154 Trudeau, Prime Minister Pierre 55, 65, 82 Unemployment and Social Insurance Act (Canada, 1935) 48 unemployment benefits, compassionate leave 80 unemployment insurance 48, 51 Belgium 153, 154, 162, 163, 166, 168, 181, 184 Canada 56, 75, 76–7 Scotland 108 United Kingdom 105 Union Nationale (Quebec) 48, 50, 51, 61 Unison (public services union) 137 United Kingdom 4, 5, 6, 13, 17, 27, 94–7, 167, 190 Beveridge report 49, 199 methodological issues 37–40 National Assistance Act (1948) 106 National Insurance Act (1911) 105 National Insurance Act (1946) 106 NHS 94, 106–7, 108, 112, 114, 123, 133–4, 136, 198 political union of 97–8 poll tax 114–15, 119 ‘right to buy’ policy 113 Scotland Act (1998) 122 Social Attitudes Survey results 127–8 Social Exclusion Unit 131–2 Sutherland Report 135, 138 Thatcherism and retrenchment 112–23

Index Third Way ideology 189 welfare state 105–9, 113–14, 138–9, 142, 153, see also devolution; Scotland United States 17, 208 federalism 31 free trade agreement with Canada 64 national identity 210–11, 213–14 race relations 213 Social Security Act 48, 210 universal suffrage 20, 149, 155 universalism 49–50, 68–9, 75, 94, 106, 107, 123 value gap 29, 194, 203–4, 221 Van den Brande, Luc 174, 177 Vandenbroucke, Frank 189 Vanthemsche, Piet 154 VB (Vlaams Belang/Vlaams Blok) 157, 172–3, 176, 196, 212 VBO-FED (Verbond van Belgische Ondernemingen/Fédération des Entreprises de Belgique) 182, 186–8 VEV (Vlaams Economisch Verbond) 187 violence 206 VLD (Vlaamse Liberalen en Democraten) 172, 174–5, 178

Volksunie (Flemish nationalist party) 156, 157, 171–2 Wade, Mason 44n Wales 13, 97, 99, 102, 108, 205 Wallace, William 98, 101 Wallonia 32, 38, 154, 156, 159 family allowances 152 federalization of social insurance debate 168–71 health care 178 inter-regional financial transfer studies 163–5 national stereotypes 166–7, 173 socialist pillar 184 socio-economic factors 32, 155, 162–3, 168, 175, 181, 193, 194, 198 unemployment rates 189, 199, see also Francophones (Belgium) Wallot, Jean-Pierre 44n welfare state 1, 6, 18, 19, 49, 94, 105–9, 113–14, 138–9, 142, 153 welfare-to-work programme 189, 190 William I of Orange, King 147 Wincott, Daniel 108–9 Wolfe, Alan 213

255

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