Social Capital and Associations in European Democracies: A Comparative Analysis (Routledge Research in Comparative Politics)

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Social Capital and Associations in European Democracies

Social Capital and Associations in European Democracies offers an empirical assessment of how social and political involvement relates to theories of citizenship and democracy. It provides a detailed comparative assessment of the potential that voluntary organizations offer citizens for social and political participation in several European countries. This unique text brings together a team of leading European researchers to examine the topical subject of citizen involvement in democracy. The coherent chapters examine the participatory opportunities offered by a wide and diverse variety of voluntary associations and provides a comparative perspective on the role, structure and functions of associations in six medium-sized European cities – Aalborg (Denmark), Aberdeen (UK), Bern (Switzerland), Enschede (the Netherlands), Mannheim (Germany) and Sabadell (Spain). This book has a companion volume entitled Citizenship and Involvement in European Democracies edited by Jan van Deth, José Ramón Montero and Anders Westholm (Routledge, 2006). Both volumes will be of great interest to students and researchers of European Politics, Comparative Politics and Sociology. William A. Maloney is Professor of Politics in the School of Geography, Politics and Sociology, University of Newcastle, UK. Sigrid Roßteutscher is a Reader in Politics at the University of Mannheim, Germany and Project Director at the Mannheim Centre for European Research (MZES).

Routledge research in comparative politics

1 Democracy and Post-Communism Political change in the post-communist world Graeme Gill 2 Sub-State Nationalism A comparative analysis of institutional design Edited by Helena Catt and Michael Murphy 3 Reward for High Public Office Asian and Pacific Rim states Edited by Christopher Hood and B. Guy Peters 4 Social Democracy and Labour Market Policy Developments in Britain and Germany Knut Roder 5 Democratic Revolutions Asia and Eastern Europe Mark R. Thompson 6 Europeanisation and the Transformation of States Edited by Bengt Jacobsson, Per Lagreid and Ove K. Pedersen 7 Democratization A comparative analysis of 170 countries Tatu Vanhanen 8 Determinants of the Death Penalty A comparative study of the world Carsten Anckar

9

How Political Parties Respond to Voters Interest aggregation revisited Edited by Kay Lawson and Thomas Poguntke

10 Women, Quotas and Politics Edited by Drude Dahlerup 11 Citizenship and Ethnic Conflict Challenging the nation-state Haldun Gülalp 12 The Politics of Women’s Interests New comparative and international perspectives Edited by Louise Chappell and Lisa Hill 13 Political Disaffection in Contemporary Democracies Social capital, institutions and politics Edited by Mariano Torcal and José Ramón Montero 14 Representing Women in Parliament A comparative study Edited by Marian Sawer, Manon Tremblay and Linda Trimble 15 Democracy and Political Culture in Eastern Europe Edited by Hans-Dieter Klingemann, Dieter Fuchs and Jan Zielonka 16 Social Capital and Associations in European Democracies A comparative analysis Edited by William A. Maloney and Sigrid Roßteutscher

Social Capital and Associations in European Democracies A comparative analysis Edited by William A. Maloney and Sigrid Roßteutscher

First published 2007 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 270 Madison Ave, New York, NY 10016 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2007. “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.”

© 2007 William A. Maloney and Sigrid Roßteutscher for selection and editorial matter; individual contributors, their contributions All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested ISBN 0-203-96906-5 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN10: 0-415-41053-3 (hbk) ISBN10: 0-203-96906-5 (ebk) ISBN13: 0-978-0415-41053-3 (hbk) ISBN13: 978-0-203-96906-9 (ebk)

Contents

Notes on contributors Editors’ acknowledgements

Introduction 1 Associations, participation and democracy

ix xv

1 3

WILLIAM A. MALONEY AND SIGRID ROßTEUTSCHER

PART I

Mapping the associational universe 2 Organizations in context: politics and culture shaping associational life

17

19

JOAN FONT, PETER GEURTS, WILLIAM A. MALONEY AND MARINA BERTON

3 The associational universe in Europe: size and participation

39


4 Assessing the significance of associational concerns: leisure, politics and markets

52


PART II

The role, structure and functions of associations 5 The spectrum of associational activities: from self-help to lobbying HERMAN LELIEVELDT, JAVIER ASTUDILLO AND LINDA STEVENSON

79

81

viii Contents 6 The internal structure of associations

96

LARS TORPE AND MARIONA FERRER-FONS

7 Organizational resources: personnel and finances

118

HANSPETER KRIESI

8 Networking among voluntary associations: segmented or integrated?

153

SONJA ZMERLI AND KEN NEWTON

9 The political role of associations

175

HERMAN LELIEVELDT AND MANUELA CAIANI

PART III

Examining context: generations, community size and culture

193

10 Age and generation: patterns of associational fertility and survival

195

SIGRID ROßTEUTSCHER, LUCIA MEDINA AND PER SELLE

11 City size and the nature of associational ecologies

224

SIMONE BAGLIONI, BAS DENTERS, LAURA MORALES AND ANGELIKA VETTER

12 The political and cultural context of associational life

244

HANSPETER KRIESI, LAURA MORALES AND MELANIE WALTER-ROGG

Conclusion

269

13 The prospects of civil society and democratic governance

271


Bibliography Index

286 301

Contributors

Javier Astudillo Ruiz is lecturer in the Department of Political and Social Sciences at the Universitat Pompeu Fabra (Barcelona) and doctoralmember of the Juan March Institute of Studies and Research (Madrid, Spain). Between 1998 and 2000 he was Fulbright Scholar in the Center for European Studies (University of Harvard). He works in comparative politics with special emphasis on the role of interest groups in the political processes, multilevel governance and political parties in Western Europe. E-mail: [email protected] Simone Baglioni is Marie Curie Excellence Research Fellow at Bocconi University in Milan (Italy). Previously, he taught social capital and civil society at the University of Geneva and carried out research at the Swiss Forum for Migration and Population Studies, Neuchâtel. He is the author of Société civile et capital social en Suisse, Paris: L’Harmattan, (2004) and has authored and co-authored publications on civil society and migration. His current research focuses on the social capital of sport organizations and social cohesion in Europe, and on migration and social exclusion. E-mail: [email protected] Marina Berton was a researcher in the Mannheim organizational project and mainly responsible for data collection and project organization. E-mail: [email protected] Manuela Caiani is research assistant at the European University Institute of Florence. She is currently working with Donatella della Porta on a project examining the radicalization of the violence – ‘Veto’ (violent extremist terrorist organizations). She is a member of the group ‘Grace’ research group which is examining collective action in Europe. Among her publications is ‘Quale Europa? Europeizzazione identità e conflitti’, with Donatella della Porta, 2006, Il Mulino. E-mail: [email protected]

x Contributors Bas Denters is Professor of Urban Policy and Politics and Director of Studies of the School for Public Administration at the University of Twente (Enschede, the Netherlands). His research interest is urban politics/urban democracy. He received the Annual Award of the Dutch Political Science Association (NKWP) for the best publication in Dutch political science in 1987. He has published in Quantity & Quality, European Journal for Political Research, Public Administration and Government and Policy. He is convener of the Standing Group for Local Government and Politics (LOGOPOL) of the European Consortium for Political Research (ECPR). E-mail: [email protected] Mariona Ferrer-Fons is Associate Lecturer at the Department of Political and Social Sciences of the Universitat Pompeu Fabra (Barcelona, Spain). She has her PhD from the European University Institute and a Diploma in Social Science Data Analysis from the University of Essex. Her research interest are political behaviour (in particular, political consumerism and protest mobilization), and the effect of public policies fostering citizen political participation. Her most recent publication is: ‘Explaining the determinants of public support for cuts in unemployment benefits spending across OECD countries’, International Sociology, 20, 4: 459–81, 2005 (with M. Fraile). E-mail: [email protected] Joan Font Fàbregas is lecturer in Political Science at the Department of Political Science of the Autonomous University of Barcelona (Spain) and Research Director at the largest Spanish Survey Research Center (CIS). His main research interests are turnout, new mechanisms of citizen participation and associations in political life. He coordinates the Spanish CID research on associations and political activists and participates in the EU funded project ‘Democratic participation and political communication in systems of multilevel governance’. His recent publications include (ed): Public Participation and Local Governance, Barcelona: ICPS, 2003, and ‘Dangerous coalitions for small parties: the electoral consequences of government’, South European Society & Politics, 6, 2: 71–96, 2001. E-mail: [email protected] Peter A. Geurts is Associate Professor of Research Methods at the School of Business, Public Administration and Technology of the University of Twente (Enschede, the Netherlands) department of Political Science and Research Methods (POLMT). He specializes in survey methods (design and analysis). E-mail: [email protected]

Contributors

xi

Hanspeter Kriesi is Professor of Comparative Politics at the Department of Political Science of the University of Zurich (Switzerland). His main research interests are in the comparative analysis of political mobilization and democratic decision-making. He has published widely in the area of Swiss politics, social movements, and direct-democratic decision-making. Currently he is the director of the Swiss NCCR ‘Challenges to democracy in the 21st century’. His most recent book is Direct Democratic Choice. The Swiss Experience, Lanham, Md.: Lexington Press, 2005. For further information see: www.ipz.unizh.ch/mitarbeiter/interne/kriesi.php. E-mail: [email protected] Herman Lelieveldt is associate professor of political science at Roosevelt Academy in Middelburg (the Netherlands). His current research project, which is carried out in collaboration with the Department of Sociology/ICS at Utrecht University involves an empirical study that critically examines the ‘plebiscitarian turn’ in Dutch neighbourhood policies and its impact on the contribution of both voluntary associations and the non-profit sector to the quality of neighbourhoods. E-mail: [email protected] William A. Maloney is Professor of Politics in the School of Geography, Politics and Sociology, University of Newcastle (UK). His main research interests are in the areas of interest group politics (internal and external dynamics), social capital, political involvement and nonparticipation. He has published extensively in these areas and is currently completing a volume with Grant Jordan entitled Delivering Democracy: The Interest Group Contribution?, Palgrave, 2007. E-mail: [email protected] Lucía Esther Medina Lindo is a socio-political analyst at the Institute of Political and Social Sciences of Barcelona and a PhD candidate of the Department of Political Sciences and Public Law from the Autonomous University of Barcelona (Spain). Her main research interest is the formation of political identities and how these influence the electoral behaviour. Political participation as a broad social phenomenon constitutes another issue of interest. She has published various articles and book chapters on ideological affiliation and citizen participation. At the moment she is working on the European Social Survey, as a researcher from the Spanish team, studying the formation of political identities. E-mail: [email protected] Laura Morales is assistant professor of Political Science at the Universidad de Murcia (Spain). Her interests lie, especially, in the areas of electoral behaviour and political participation. She is a member of the Spanish National Coordination team of the European Social Survey, and she

xii Contributors currently coordinates the project LOCALMULTIDEM (funded by the 6th Framework Programme) on immigrants’ participation and integration at the local level. Her book Nations of Political Joiners? (a revised version of her PhD thesis, which was awarded the ECPR and the Spanish Political Science Association prizes for the best PhD thesis in 2004) will be published by ECPR Press in 2007. E-mail: [email protected] Kenneth Newton is Professor of Comparative Politics at the University of Southampton (UK). His main research interests are comparative government and politics, especially the role of the mass media, mass attitudes and behaviour, and the social basis of operations of democracy. Recent publications include The New British Politics Harlow: Longman, 2004, 4th Edition and Foundations of Comparative Government Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005 (with Jan van Deth). E-mail: [email protected] Sigrid Roßteutscher is a Reader in Politics at the University of Mannheim (Germany) and project director at the Mannheim Centre for European Research (MZES). Her main interest is in political, social and religious participation, values and social inequality, and in concepts of democracy, in particular recent theories about associations’ and religion’s role in contemporary democracy. She obtained her PhD at the European University Institute (EUI) in Florence, Italy. E-mail: [email protected] Per Selle is Professor in the Department of Comparative Politics, University of Bergen and Senior Researcher at the Stein Rokkan Centre, Bergen (Norway). His research interests include voluntary organizations, environmental movements, political culture and democratic theory. Among his latest publications (in English) are Investigating Social Capital (Sage, 2004), Unique Environmentalism (Springer, 2006) and ‘State and Citizens in Norway: Organizational Society and StateMunicipal Relations’, West European Politics, no. 4, 2005. E-mail: [email protected] Linda Stevenson is a Research Director for a UK-wide market research company. At the time of the study she was a Research Fellow in the Department of Politics and International Relations, University of Aberdeen (UK). E-mail: [email protected] Lars Torpe is Associate Professor in Political Sociology at the Department of Economics, Politics and Public Administration, Aalborg University (Denmark). His main research interests are democracy, political

Contributors

xiii

participation and social capital. He has coordinated a project on e-participation in Denmark and his recent publications include: ‘Social capital in Denmark: a deviant case?’, Scandinavian Political Studies, 26, 1, 2003; ‘Democracy and associations in Denmark: changing relationships between individuals and associations?’, Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Quarterly, 32, 3, 2003; and ‘The state we are in: E-democracy in Denmark’, Information Policy, 8, 1–2: 49–66, 2004 (with Jens Hoff and Karl Löfgren). E-mail: [email protected]. Angelika Vetter is Associate Professor at the Department of Social Science at the University of Stuttgart (Germany). Her main research interests are the comparative study of local politics, of local and national political culture and political behaviour. She is speaker of the German Political Science Association’s Workgroup on ‘Local Politics’. Recent Publications are ‘Local political competence in Europe: a resource of legitimacy for higher levels of government?’. International Journal of Public Opinion Research, 14: 3–18, 2002, and ‘Reforming Local Government in Europe: Closing the Gap Between Efficiency and Democracy?’ Opladen: Leske Budrich, 2003 (ed. with Norbert Kersting). For further information see: www.uni-stuttgart.de/soz/avps/mitarbeiter/vetter.html. E-mail: [email protected] Melanie Walter-Rogg is associate professor of political science at the University of Stuttgart (Germany) with regular teaching activities and the management of social science projects. Her main research fields are political elites, political responsiveness and political culture in a comparative perspective and on different levels of politics. Recent publications cover questions of trust in political actors and institutions as well as the use of local referenda after extensive reforms in the last decades. She is a member of the International Metropolitan Observatory Project. One aim of this project is to study the relationship of context to the construction of both general-purpose metropolitan associations and cooperation around specific policy questions. Since 2005 she has been a member of the board of experts in the series ‘Comparative Local Politics’. For further information see: www.uni-stuttgart.de/soz/avps/mitarbeiter/walter.html. E-mail: [email protected] Sonja Zmerli is a Teaching and Research Assistant at the Institute of Political Science at the University of Technology Darmstadt (Germany). Her main research interests are social capital and its political consequences as well as political involvement in comparative perspective. Recent publications ‘Politisches Vertrauen und Unterstützung’, in Jan van Deth (ed.), Deutschland in Europa, Wiesbaden:

xiv

Contributors

Verlag Sozialwissenschaften, 2004, and ‘Applying the concepts of bonding and bridging social capital to empirical research’, European Political Science, 2, 3, 2003. See for further information: www.ifs.tu-darmstadt.de/index. php?id1244. E-mail address: [email protected]

Editors’ acknowledgements

The area of social capital, citizenship, civil society, social involvement, trust, and, more generally, the chances and opportunities for improving citizens’ involvement in democratic societies, represents one of the most controversial topics in the social sciences. Empirical research is only slowly developed and usually restricted to a single country or to rather narrow concerns, focusing either on political participation, particular aspects of citizenship, or social activities. By the end of 1998, researchers from Austria, Denmark, Germany, Great Britain, the Netherlands, Norway, Spain, Sweden and Switzerland starting to cooperate in order to develop cross-national research in this area. On the basis of an extensive Swedish study on citizenship (coordinated by Anders Westholm, Uppsala) and a Dutch community study (by Jan W. van Deth and Monique Leijenaar, Nijmegen), an international comparative research design was developed, which permitted the testing of the complex relationships between social and political involvement. Only such an encompassing research design is capable of answering the crucial question of whether – and if so, to what extent – modes of social involvement contribute to a qualitative and quantitative improvement of contemporary democracies. Comparatively speaking, there is ample reason to assume that the link between the ‘social’ and the ‘political’, between ‘big’ and ‘small’ politics exists in manifold contextual and institutional variations. However, little is known about such variations, and more importantly, how such variations might differently contribute to democracy. Based on the idea that only close international collaboration could result in the empirical information required in this area, the Network Citizenship, Involvement, Democracy (CID) funded by the European Science Foundation (ESF) was founded (coordinated by Jan W. van Deth, Mannheim; see www.mzes.uni-mannheim.de/projekte/cid/). In the first stage of the Network participants included Jørgen Goul Andersen (Aalborg), Klaus Armingeon (Bern), Paul Dekker (Den Haag), Bas Denters (Enschede), Oscar W. Gabriel (Stuttgart), Peter Geurts (Enschede), Tore Hansen (Oslo), Hanspeter Kriesi (Geneva), William A. Maloney (Aberdeen), José Ramón Montero (Madrid), Ken Newton (Essex), Sigrid Roßteutscher (Mannheim), Per Selle (Bergen), Jan Teorell

xvi

Editors’ acknowledgements

(Uppsala), Lise Togeby (Aarhus), Mariano Torcal (Madrid), Peter A. Ulram (Vienna), Jan W. van Deth (Mannheim), Anders Westholm (Uppsala) and Paul Whiteley (Sheffield). Some of these colleagues left the project after the initial phase and new members joined the network. The list of participants who remained at the final phase is identical to the list of contributors to the two volumes published. The research design developed by the Network includes two major components: (i) a survey of representative samples of the population in European countries in order to examine the general orientations and behaviour of citizens and (ii) a study of voluntary associations in several European cities/communities in order to obtain information about the structure of this area and the opportunities for engagement. For both parts of the project similar research designs have been developed (including common core questionnaires) and implemented in a number of countries. The two parts of the CID-project address similar questions about citizenship and involvement. The population project provides analyses of individual citizens’ involvement. However, before much participation can take place, groups must exist as vehicles for citizen engagement. Thus the organizational study focuses on the collective opportunities and routes for social and political involvement. In essence, these two parts are joined at the hip; viewing the same phenomenon from slightly different angles. Although it is clear that the two parts are highly complementary, they differ in their research designs and empirical evidence. For that reason, the results are published in two volumes clearly focused on ‘their’ specific aims. Both volumes share the general concern with democratic citizenship and the comparative perspective; and both are based on collaborative efforts of international groups of scholars. In the first volume, the availability of high-quality survey data collected in 13 societies (Denmark, East and West Germany, Moldova, the Netherlands, Norway, Portugal, Romania, Russia, Slovenia, Spain, Sweden, Switzerland) offers a unique opportunity to study the political and social behaviour of citizens. The results of this part of the project are presented in the first volume Citizenship and Involvement in European Democracies: A Comparative Analysis (edited by Jan W. van Deth, José Ramón Montero, and Anders Westholm). The organizational study in eight European cities (Aalborg, Aberdeen, Bern, Chemnitz, Enschede, Mannheim, Lausanne, Sabadell) and an additional 18 smaller communities or villages in Spain, Switzerland, East and West Germany makes it possible to study the structure of voluntary sectors and opportunities for participation and mobilization in very different institutional and organizational contexts. The results of this part of the project are presented in the second volume Social Capital and Associations in European Democracies: A Comparative Analysis (edited by William A. Maloney and Sigrid Roßteutscher). Developing and carrying out a large and complicated international project completely depends on the willingness of many people to spend their time and energy to collaborate and to contribute to the collective efforts. We

Editors’ acknowledgements xvii are very grateful to all participants in the various stages of our common undertaking. This international collaboration was highly facilitated by the recognition of the CID-project as an official ESF-Network. The support of the ESF enabled the group to meet frequently between 1999 and 2003 and ESF-staff members joined the discussions at several meeting (Marianne Yagoubi, Caroline Eckert, Henk Stronkhorst). Additional support for meetings of our group, the Steering Committee or the young scholars was received from universities in Aberdeen and Mannheim, as well as from institutes in Madrid (Juan March Institute, and the Spanish Ministry of Science and Technology, grant SEC2002–10279-E) and Barcelona (Jaume Bofill Foundation). Furthermore, the Mannheim Centre for European Social Research (MZES) provided substantial resources and support at all stages of the project to smooth communication, to build extensive integrated data sets, to document the various tasks, and to prepare manuscripts. The organization and collection of data in each of the 13 societies and 26 European communities was made possible with a number of generous grants. Data collection and preparing the information for our analyses was accomplished with support of a number of national foundations and institutes: Denmark (Democracy and Power Study, conducted on behalf of the Danish Parliament), Germany (German National Science Foundation DFG, grant DE630/7–1, Fritz Thyssen Stiftung, Cologne and the AngloGerman Foundation for the Study of Industrial Society), Great Britain (Anglo-German Foundation for the Study of Industrial Society), the Netherlands (Institute for Governance Studies at the University of Twente), Norway (Norwegian Research Council; Power and Democracy Group; Stein Rokkan Center), Spain (Ministry of Science and Technology, grant SEC2000–0758-C02), and Switzerland (Swiss National Science Foundation SNF). We are very grateful for these considerable grants to carry out our project in so many distinct countries. The successful completion of an international project dealing with questions about complex social and political developments depends on the help of very many people over a long period of time. We cannot list all the research assistants, secretaries, managers, and colleagues that made this project possible, but we are very grateful for the generous support that was provided to us without hesitation over so many years. Especially, we would like to thank Stephanie Stuck (Mannheim) and Peter Geurts (Enschede) for designing and developing the integrated data sets and harmonizing the data from so many different countries and cities. Finally, we want to express our personal gratitude to the MZES and the University of Mannheim, and the University of Newcastle which provided us with the resources to finish this project. William A. Maloney, Newcastle Sigrid Roßteutscher, Mannheim

Introduction

1

Associations, participation and democracy William A. Maloney and Sigrid Roßteutscher

Introduction: participation and democracy It has become a cliché to say that associations are back in-vogue. Debates about (the decline of) social capital, citizenship, civil society, social and political involvement in democratic societies represents some of the most contemporaneously ‘hot’ topics in the social sciences. There appears to be a widespread consensus that a revival of patterns of civic engagement and citizenship will compensate for the assumed deficiencies of modern democracies. ‘By associating with one another, we engage in camaraderie, cooperation, dialogue, deliberation, negotiation, competition, creativity, and the kinds of self-expression and self-sacrifice . . .’ (Gutmann 1998: 4). The contribution of associations is multifaceted – a dense, diverse and vibrant civil society is valorized for its intrinsic merit – as well as: acting as a barrier to the rise of totalitarian mass movements; a check on the tyranny of government; engendering ‘schools of democracy’; generating countervailing advocacy; positive externalities; enhancing ‘flexibility, responsiveness, choice, innovation, and user control in service delivery’; promoting social cohesion; encouraging and engendering cooperation, trust, reciprocity, respect, and the development of civic skills; and vehicles of self-government within which citizens are able to meaningfully participate in decisions that affect them (Roßteutscher 2005: 5; Kendall and Knapp 1996; McConnell 1969; Tocqueville 1969; Ware 1989). Flowing from the above list of intentional and unintentional positive outcomes a multitude of scholars from Tocqueville onwards have argued that nothing deserves more attention than associations. From Arthur Bentley’s 1908 (in)famous claim that: ‘When the groups are adequately stated . . . everything is stated. When I say everything I mean everything. The complete description will be the complete science . . .’ (Bentley [1908] 1967: 208–9) (emphasis added).1 To Putnam’s contention that membership is directly correlated to human morbidity and mortality: The more integrated we are with our community, the less likely we are to experience colds, heart attacks, strokes, cancer, depression and

4 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher premature deaths of all sorts . . .. As a rough rule of thumb, if you belong to no groups but decide to join one, you cut your risk of dying over the next year in half. If you smoke and belong to no groups, it’s a toss-up statistically whether you should stop smoking or start joining. (Putnam 2000: 326, 331) (original emphasis) He (2000: 290) further argued that ‘social capital makes us smarter, healthier, safer, richer, and better able to govern a just and stable democracy’. As van Deth (2001: 1) notes, ‘even if only one of these claims turns out to be true, studying social capital would be extremely worthwhile’. The necessity to study associations (and the alleged potential benefits) appears to be great. Accordingly, a deluge of ‘new’ theoretical, conceptual and ideological approaches have trailed in the wake of the publication of Putnam’s seminal Making Democracy Work. As Warren (2001a: 9–10) highlights the perspectives on associations covers a wide terrain, including assessments of its impact on: civic values (civic republicanism); pluralistic democracy; and civic culture and democratic participation. However, we are as attentive as scholars such as Gutmann (1998) and Tamir (1998) that the current enthusiasm for all things associational needs to be tempered because of the paucity of empirical investigation. The slowly emerging research is usually restricted to a single country or region. The comparative dimension is poorly served and it is this specific gap which this volume seeks to address. This volume provides a rich comparative perspective on the role, structure and functions of association in several countries, critically assessing the potential that organizations offer citizens for social and political involvement. A novel research design was developed which generated a high level of comparable data: taking great care at the implementation stage to ensure that Aalborg mirrored Aberdeen, Bern, Enschede, Mannheim, Sabadell and the other towns in our sample (see Chapter 2 for a full discussion). The (painful) attention to detail and closed collaboration between the research teams allows us to be confident about the veracity of the comparative insights into associational life in these European cities. The project collected two types of data. First, data on the entire voluntary sector in six cities (organizational activities, demographics); and second, data on individual activists in selected organizations of the six cities (activity, attitudes and demographics). Only the findings from the organizational data are presented here, the member data will be examined in subsequent research outputs. Thus this volume assesses: (i) the shape, density and diversity of the voluntary sector in several European towns and cities taking into account the different cultural, institutional and legal settings; (ii) the participatory outputs of the voluntary sector; and (iii) the impact of the institutional structure on associational density and diversity.

Associations, participation and democracy 5 Arguably, the closer we move to the ideals of participatory democracy the more civically and politically healthy we are likely to become. As Berry et al. (1993: 5) note, ‘Proponents of participatory democracy view it as redemptive’ in three main ways: (i) it ‘nourishes the democratic spirit of individuals’; (ii) participation builds community and encourages and facilitates the generation of positive social capital outputs; and (iii) participation makes institutions more effective instruments of democracy. However, not everyone accepts the Patemanian notion that the more participation there is the more democracy. Clearly Schumpeter (1943) and Huntingdon (1975) do not share such a positive view of the universal benefits of widespread participation. Huntingdon warned against the ‘excess of democracy’ claiming that a ‘surge of participatory democracy’ had undermined US democracy because government was unable to satisfy, or satisfactorily reconcile, the conflicting demands made upon it (quoted in Berry et al. 1993: 8). The key normative question is: ‘How much participation is too much?’ Or to phrase it alternatively: ‘How much participation is too little?’ Outlining the critical elements of strong participation at the urban level Berry et al. (1993: 55–6) maintain that there are two broad parameters – breadth and depth. In summary, breadth refers to the extent that the opportunity to participate is offered to all members of a community. Are there frequent information flows on how members can participate in decision-making processes and on the substantive issues under consideration? Are there any structural or logistical barriers to participation? Depth relates to the extent to which those who seek to participate have the opportunity to do so. How extensive are the opportunities for face-to-face discussions? Is the participation meaningful or sham? Participation needs to be more than cosmetic consultation; it needs to involve bargaining, negotiation and accommodation. Breadth and depth are key parameters in our study. Finally, it is also interesting to note that given the centrality of associations to much social science research the focus on associations as vehicles for participation is a relatively neglected area. What opportunities do European voluntary associations offer for meaningful extensive and effective participation? In short, to what extent can voluntary associations in Europe be characterized a lá Barber’s (1984) as ‘strong democracies’? Do these organizations provide strong democracy that is predicted on ‘a self-governing community of citizens . . . capable of common purpose and mutual action by virtue of their civic attitudes and participatory institutions’ (Barber 1984: 117)? Or alternatively thin democracy which yields neither the pleasures of participation nor the fellowship of civic association, neither the autonomy of self governance of continuous political activity nor the enlarging mutuality of shared public goods – of mutual deliberation, decision, and work. (Barber 1984: 117)

6 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher We should expect voluntary associations to come closer to the strong democracy model than political systems generally. Membership of polities is not voluntary. The likelihood of apathetic membership is greater in a nonvoluntary setting. Those who have taken the trouble to voluntarily join an organization are more likely to take a more active interest in its functioning. Smaller numbers may also increase efficacy, feelings of pivotality and participatory zeal generally. This volume directly addresses several issues pertinent to this discussion. Its raison d’être is to investigate the range of social and political involvements provided by the associational sector and to assess the potential these organizations offer as participatory vehicles. What opportunities for involvement do European associations offer citizens? What are the range and type of associations? What type of activities are these organizations engaged in? What opportunities are there for members to hold leaders to account? How important are supporters or members for the internal and external life of associations? Do associations have any bridging capacity or are they insular bonding vehicles? For example, to what extent do bonding ties constitute a kind of ‘sociological superglue’ and bridging ones lubricate? What is the actual political impact of association generally? etc. All these questions (and others outlined in the subsequent chapters) aim to uncover the opportunities that exist for citizen involvement. This is a crucial step in assessing the contribution of associations to democracy. Many great benefits and deeds may be claimed for a vibrant associational life, but what is the empirical reality?

Associations, civic engagement and effects Putnam (1993: 89–90) maintained that associations generate ‘internal’ effects on members (‘the habits of cooperation, solidarity, and public spiritedness’) and ‘external’ effects on society.2 The opportunities that voluntary associations offer for participation increases social connections and counteracts feelings of social isolation, stimulates the development of democratic competencies and inculcates civic and moral virtues in members. In short, and in common parlance, participation in groups produces social capital. Warren (2001a: 60) subsumes internal and external effects within three broad headings – developmental, public sphere and institutional effects. First, developmental effects on individuals facilitate and bolster the development of the democratic capacities of citizens. Associations contribute to enhancing efficacy. They gather, formulate and distribute information that may empower citizens to make greater demands through more informed scrutiny of political decisions and leaders, and facilitate higher levels of transparency and public accountability. Associations help develop political skills (oral presentation, negotiation, bargaining, compromise, accommodation etc.), civic virtues (tolerance, mutual respect, trust, reciprocity,

Associations, participation and democracy 7 respect for justice, the rule of law and the rights of others etc.) and critical skills (Warren 2001a: 71–6). Second, public sphere effects – contributing to ‘. . . the formation of public opinion and public judgement’. Associations perform a public communication and deliberation function. They act as a conduit for citizen concerns and have played (and continue to play) a key role in forcing issues onto the political (and public) agenda (e.g. environmental and health problems, human rights abuses, monitoring the implementation of policy and whistling blowing when necessary etc.). Associations symbolically present representations of difference (exclusive memberships) and representations of commonality (inclusive memberships) (Warren 2001a: 77–82). Third, institutional effects – i.e. ‘the effects associations have on the institutions through which collective decisions are made and collective actions organized’. The most obvious institutional effect relates to representation. In addition to this, associations also offer resistance to policies or programmes through votes, information dissemination, demonstrations, civil disobedience etc. Subsidiarity, coordination and cooperation sees associations heavily involved in the development and implementation of policy through policy networks or subgovernments. Finally, associations also have the capacity to ‘underwrite the legitimacy of the state’. Meaningful involvement in the political process enhances the legitimacy of policy outcomes – even when the outcomes may not be all an association had hoped or lobbied for (Warren 2001a: 82–93). It is clear from the discussion above that a great deal of the literature (including Warren, 2001a) echoes Tocqueville’s pronouncements on the positive effects of associations. However, Bell (1998) reminds us that a close reading of Tocqueville shows that he did not make claims of universal beneficiality. Tocqueville: made a distinction between ‘American’ associations that allow for and encourage independent behaviour and ‘French’ associations that are tyrannical within themselves, thus producing passive and servile behaviour instead of training members in the use of their energies for the sake of common enterprises. Bell (1998: 240–1) While Rosenblum (1998: 44) argues that Tocqueville was not overly sentimental or romantic about associations: He never doubted that ‘individual interest will more than ever become the chief if not the only motive behind all actions’. The real question was ‘how each man will interpret his individual interest’, and what makes the pursuit of self-interest in America notably ‘ordered, temperate, moderate, careful, and self-controlled’. ‘Self interest rightly understood’, or ‘refined and intelligent selfishness’, follows

8 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher from the understanding that increasing the prosperity of our district, the right to direct affairs, the hope of pressing through plans for improvements that enrich us and so on depend on cooperation. Rosenblum (1998: 44) Thus there is a long and sustained critique of associationalism. Adam Smith argued in The Wealth of Nations (Book I) ‘People of the same trade seldom meet together, even for merriment or diversion, but the conversation ends in a conspiracy against the public or in some contrivance to raise prices’. James Madison famously spoke of the dangers of factions in The Federalist Papers Number 10 being ‘sown in the nature of man’.3 He identified ‘two methods of curing the mischief of factions’, removing the causes, or controlling the effects. Removing the causes was perceived as ‘worse than the disease’ being inimical to freedom and the practice of democratic politics. Thus ‘relief is only to be sought in the means of controlling its effects’ Madison ([1787] 2003: 70). This critique has expanded into the twentieth century. Scholars such as Olson (1982) have characterized much group activity as redirecting governments to serve the ends of private interests: governments have been portrayed as rabbits trapped in the headlights of the associational rush. Or as Fukuyama (2001: 12) neatly summarizes it, ‘One person’s civic engagement is another’s rent-seeking’. Associations may also stimulate inward and insular views and not all concerned authors believe that social capital produced through associations is necessarily a universally valuable resource: the dark side is not so distant (Edwards and Foley 1997; Foley and Edwards 1997; Levi 1996; Maloney et al. 2000; Portes 1998; Coleman 1990; Orr 1999; Fiorina 1999; Roßteutscher 2002). There are many instances where the social capital appropriated or generated can be used to the detriment of specific groups or sections of society. Individuals construct ‘collective identities’ which shape commonalities and act as an adhesive that binds these people together. An important component of this ‘gluing’ process is the identification of, what Piven and Cloward (1997: 43) term, the Other. Groups may partly define themselves through a negatively constructed juxtaposition. They argue that while identity politics can be ‘liberating and equalizing’ – the civil rights movement in the US is an excellent example of ‘the emancipatory construction and assertion of a group’s identity’. It can have a pernicious side. ‘It has also been a bane upon humankind, the source of unending tragedy (Serbs and Muslims and Croats; Protestants and Roman Catholics, Sikhs and Hindus etc.)’ (Piven and Cloward 1997: 43). Orr (1999) demonstrated how the grassroots homeowners’ movement in several large cities in the US from the 1940s through to the 1960s were termed ‘civic associations’ and ‘neighbourhood improvement associations’. However, many of these organizations shared the collective aim of keeping African Americans out of their neighborhoods. The consequence of this type of ‘unsocial capital’

Associations, participation and democracy 9 (Levi 1996) is the perpetuation of economic, social and political inequality. Moreover, the skills acquired in voluntary associations can be used for democratic and undemocratic purposes. Many associations during the Weimar Republic did not contribute to democratic development and paved the way for the success of National Socialism (Roßteutscher 2002). However, by investigating the ‘effects’ or ‘outputs’ of the associational sector we are looking at a complex canvas. As Rosenblum (1998: 34) notes conflicting (political and social) groups ‘advancing particular interests and opinions is not anathema . . .’. While forms of social capital created in oppositional and conflictual settings or in closed communities: ‘. . . may fatally inhibit members from looking outside the group to other affiliations’ (Rosenblum 1998: 16). Nevertheless, in most cases this conflict may not be inimical to social and political integration. Rosenblum (1998: 17) maintains that the shifting involvement of citizens is what is crucial. Members join and leave associations for a variety of reasons and ‘the dynamic of association’ of ‘forming, joining, schisms, and disassociation are as much part of freedom of association as the solidity of identification and belonging’.

The social/political dimensions of associational life Within the associational universe social (non-political) groups dominate. The data in this volume confirms this and it is of little surprise that most citizen engagement is strongly related to social interests. However, as the social capital debate has made clear, there are important political reasons for examining social involvement. The Tocquevillian perspective sees political and civil associations thriving through reciprocity: In all countries where political associations are forbidden, civil associations are rare . . . It is hardly likely that this is due to accident, and it is wiser to conclude that there must be some natural, perhaps inevitable connection between the two types of association . . . civil associations pave the way for political ones, but on the other hand, the art of political association singularly develops and improves this technique for civil purposes . . . It is through political associations that American of every station, outlook, and age day by day acquire a general taste for association. Through them large numbers see, speak, listen, and stimulate each other to carry out all sorts of undertakings in common. Then they carry these conceptions with them into the affairs of civil life and put them to a thousand uses. (Tocqueville 1969: 520–1, 523–4) It is from such an inspirational source that Putnam advances his claim that a vibrant civil society facilitates and encourages a vibrant political society: associational vibrancy in the political sphere is the by-product of

10 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher associational vibrancy in the social realm. In short, there is reciprocity between the social and political organizational dimensions, and it is important to note that all associations have the potential to act politically when they face what Truman (1951) would describe as a disturbance that threatens the organizational interest. Olsen (1972: 318) argued that social involvement increases the propensity for political involvement for a number of reasons: involvement in voluntary, special-interest, nonpolitical associations will in time activate individuals politically . . . There are many reasons why such participation can increase individual political activity: (1) It broadens one’s sphere of interests and concerns, so that public affairs and public issues become more salient for him. (2) It brings an individual in contact with many new and diverse people, and the resulting relationships draw him into public affairs and political activity. (3) It increases one’s information, trains him in social interaction and leadership skills, and provides other resources needed for effective political action. (original emphasis) (quoted in van Deth 2000: 6). While Rosenstone and Hansen (1993: 84) provide some statistical support for the thesis that involvement in associations generally leads to political involvement: ‘Involvement in associations promotes political activism. In fact, no variable in our cross-sectional analysis has a larger impact on the probability that people will participate . . . people who have joined with others to work on a local problem are 12.9 per cent more likely to write national leaders [sic], 22.9 per cent more likely to sign a petition, and 28.7 per cent more likely to take part in a local political meeting’. Clearly, the boundary between political and nonpolitical participation is fuzzy. Primarily non-political activities can have political effects and much civic orientated activity interfaces with the political realm.

Plan of the book The remaining chapters of this volume address discrete thematic concerns. In Chapter 2, Font, Guerts, Maloney and Berton provide the contextual information on the six cities selected. Their argument is that organizational universes are not situated in a vacuum, but are affected by the cultural, economic, social and political context that surrounds them. Context matters and has a considerable impact on the shape, structure and modus operandi of the associational universe. Thus the chapter addresses two main issues. First it describes the research design. Second, it situates the respective associational universes in their local contexts identifying the features most likely to effect the organization and operation of the associational universes. The importance of the (local) political

Associations, participation and democracy 11 opportunity structure and the associational structure of locales is also addressed. This chapter provides the information necessary for an informed interpretation of country-specific differences in subsequent chapters – particularly crucial for Chapters 11 and 12 which focus on institutional, geographical and cultural variations in the structure of associational life. The aim of the chapter is not to provide a complete description of all six cities, but simply to concentrate on main comparative aspects (e.g. democratic experiences/development; welfare state). The main aim of Chapter 3 (Maloney and Roßteutscher) is to provide some of the basic foundation for the subsequent empirical analyses (Chapters 4 to 12). The chapter begins by assessing the theoretical significance of the numerical size of the associational sector. It then moves on to describe the demography of associational life in these cities – dealing with density issues. How many associations? How many volunteers? How many activists? etc. The chapter also sets out the volume’s ‘dependent’ variables such as the measurement of participatory outputs, and distinguishes between quantity (numbers of activists, volunteers) and quality/efficiency (ratios of members/activists, and members/volunteers). Finally, the chapter relates the vibrancy of the associative sector to the cities’ populations, i.e. it examines the sector’s penetration into the life of the community. It ends by investigating the relationship between engagement in groups, on the one hand, and sector size, on the other. It concludes that there is more than one avenue for the generation of an active citizenry. It can emerge via the massive supply of associative options or the efficient exploitation of group’s internal mobilization capacity. Chapter 4 (Maloney and Roßteutscher) takes the ‘main’ thematic concerns of organizations as its datum and has three objectives. First and most importantly, it assesses the nature of civil society. The chapter explores theories of civil society and relates these to the tripartite (empirical) face of the sector – markets, politics and leisure. In doing so, the chapter provides basic information about the range, diversity and intensity of issue concerns and sectorial activities, and the general profiles of associations: what are the dominant concerns?; what and where are the differences or similarities looking across different European cities? Second, it explores the relationship between associative concerns and participatory outputs. Third, it outlines the construction of an empirically derived core taxonomy of issue concerns that provides a robust foundation for subsequent comparative analyses (i.e. applied in Chapters 4 to 11). The taxonomy’s value vis-à-vis civil society theories is explored and conclusions about the ‘completeness’ or inclusiveness of the sector are drawn. The chapter (and to a certain extent the entire volume) rests on the assumption that leisure associations might differ significantly from organizations in the market sector and associations active in the political sphere of civil society. Variations may emerge for several reasons including, the fact the different organizations might: attract different types of joiners; generate disparate

12 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher types of social capital – bridging or bonding – or generate ‘positive’ or ‘negative’ externalities; choose dissimilar organizational structures; and ultimately have a differential impact on social integration or the functioning of contemporary democracy. In short the taxonomy assumes that the substance of organizational activity matters! In Chapter 5, Lelieveldt, Astudillo and Stevenson argue that when scholars examine interest groups and social movements, they primarily associate them with their political activities. Simultaneously singing groups and soccer clubs derive their ‘social capital’ prominence from their nonpolitical character: i.e. the opportunities they offer for civic participation (and the political ‘externalities’ generated). This chapter provides a (more balanced and) comprehensive view of all the activities of different types of associations. A typology of associational activities that mirrors the public–private or political–social dimension, or representation–service orientation is developed, and permits an evaluation of the dominance of the explicit policy-orientation in the activity-pattern of different associations. Are community groups really only engaged in monitoring local decisionmaking? Or do they also provide services to their members? Do sportsclubs only organize activities for their members? Or do they also, from time-to-time, engage in lobbying? What activities do they undertake? How diversified is their activity pattern? And which of their activities do they deem the most important? Finally, these activity patterns are related to the different participatory measures introduced in Chapter 3 to facilitate an analysis of the relationship between different types of activities and the developmental effects associated with them. In Chapter 6, Torpe and Ferrer-Fons investigate the internal institutional structure of associations and relate this to activity and volunteering. To what extent has there been a shift from traditional formal internal democratic procedures associated with classic secondary associations to more variated forms of responsiveness and accountability ranging from the sole option of exit from checkbook groups to less formal democratic procedures within looser network configurations? This chapter examines variations in the internal structure of associations by focusing on four dimensions of the internal structure. First, hierarchy. Are associations vertically organized as local branches of regional or national umbrella organizations (or themselves umbrella organizations)? Or are associations horizontally organized as free-standing associations? Second, formal representative rule. Do volunteering and member activities take place within the settings of established rules and procedures governed by an elected chair or board? Or do they take place within the settings of informal rules and arrangements? Third, the degree of differentiation in the structure of management: to what degree do associations include different positions and bodies, such as a treasurer, a secretary, special committees etc.? Finally, size, understood as the composition of the organizational society in terms of members in the analysis of possible changes towards a more network-

Associations, participation and democracy 13 like organizational society. The core question is: what kind/type of organizational structures can be construed as the most efficient vehicles for participation and volunteering in associations? Are small, horizontally based associations with a low degree of formalization more likely to increase activity and volunteering than large, vertically organized and highly formalized associations? Are associations with formal representative structures more likely to increase activity and volunteering than informally structured associations? What variations emerge between the six cities with regard to these questions? In Chapter 7 Kriesi looks in detail at the extent and impact of the professionalization process on organizational resources (i.e. human and financial capital). How far have professional-led groups that eschew voluntary activity penetrated the (local) associational universe? He develops a measure for professionalization (numbers of paid staff, ratio staff-toactivists/volunteers), organizational autonomy (diversification of resources, independence of members), wealth (rich–poor), and public dependency (proportion of income from public authorities). It assesses how the different aspects of the professionalization process fit together and relate to participation (numbers of volunteers and activists). This chapter examines the (hypothesized) highly unequal distribution of resources in the local associational universe: i.e. the bulk of resources are concentrated in the hands of few associations, while the large majority of the local associations are relatively resource poor. These highly variable resource levels can to some extent be explained by five associated aspects: their territorial scope, size, task domain, age, and, above all, their mode of financing. This chapter examines the relationship between the resource base of local associations and the level of activity. Are small and traditional organizations necessarily ‘beautiful’? Are membership associations (with limited resources) more likely to promote volunteering and activism than the professional associations with large outside funding? In Chapter 8, Zmerli and Newton address the largely theoretical claim that voluntary organizations have a variety of beneficial effects for social cohesion via the overlapping and interlocking networks they create. However, the few empirical studies of inter-organizational networking have tended to be less positive. Theoretical perspectives have emphasized the integrative functions of the web of group associations, while empirical studies have found that class, ethnic, territorial, and political considerations can reinforce the insularity of groups, and limit the extent to which they create an organizational network that aids societal integration. Social capital theory picks up this theme when it distinguishes between ‘good’ and ‘bad’ social capital created by bridging and bonding organizations. This chapter explores the extent to which clubs, societies, and voluntary associations of all kinds create an inter-organizational network. Are they inclusive (open) or exclusive (closed) in their membership? Do they establish relations and links with other organizations? Do they network

14 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher across a variety of group activities, or are their organizational links confined to their own sort of organizations? In short, do groups establish relations and links with a range of other organizations with different activities and different types of membership? Or, do they confine their activities to their own areas and their own interests? In Chapter 9, Lelieveld and Caiani analyse the political role of associations. They examine: contacts with political institutions across all layers of government; sources, and importance of public finance for organizational maintenance; and independence/co-option. The chapter develops a measure for political contacts (frequency and diversity of contacts) and a measure for public independence/co-option. It describes and analyses the extent to which both aspects are related to patterns of participation (number of volunteers, activists). This chapter also explores the political role of associations and the institutional effects generated. These issues are addressed through an analysis of the contacts voluntary associations have with civil servants, mayor and aldermen, councillors and local political parties. By focusing on these contacts it is possible to get a more differentiated view of the precise links that exist between associations and the political system. Does the bulk of the associations only rarely stay in touch with local government and its civil servants? Or do we see more intense patterns that also include contacts with aldermen and local councillors? In Chapter 10, Roßteutscher, Medina and Selle analyse the reproductive capacity of the associational universe. To what extent are there different organizational fertility or survival rates in different epochs and different countries? What has been the impact of age on patterns of participation? Accordingly, the chapter begins with an attempt to relate the concepts of ageing, the life cycle and (political) generations to the world of associations. Centrally, the chapter examines how different fertility and survival patterns are likely to affect the sector in the future: growth, stagnation or decline? Moreover, it explores the extent to which notions of associative age or generation can contribute to an explanation of associations’ capacity to ‘produce’ volunteers and activists. The chapter also assesses how – through processes of ageing and generational exchange – the current ecology of associations changes. In Chapter 11, Baglioni, Denters, Morales and Vetter assess the impact of city size on the nature of associational ecologies. They argue that while there is a general consensus on the democratic relevance of organizational life, very little attention has been paid to the relationship between city size and patterns of associational life. This chapter addresses this issue via an exploration of the relationship between city size and the mix of local associations – in Warren’s (2001) terminology the local associational ecology. To this end it provides a descriptive analysis of differences in associational ecologies in communities of different size – from rural villages to large cities. The central research question is: are there (democratically relevant) differences in local organizational ecologies between large and

Associations, participation and democracy 15 small cities? This chapter also addresses: the density and the diversity of associational ecologies; the interconnectedness of a city’s local associational networks; the political connectedness of a city’s civic associations; and the degree of voluntarism and activism in a city’s local associations. Chapter 12 addresses the political, institutional and cultural context of associational life. Kriesi’s, Morales’ and Walter-Rogg’s main focus is on the impact of intra-national differences (East–West Germany, French and German speaking areas in Switzerland, etc.) on the shape and structure of the associative sector and its relevance for patterns of participation (numbers of volunteers and activists). This chapter provides a general hypothesis (periphery–core) relating to the effect of national cleavages on both the associational world and patterns of participation. In order to keep the task manageable comparison is limited to the common core city and the comparative city/cities in other regions (e.g. Mannheim in comparison to Chemnitz). This chapter will also address several of the themes set out in Chapters 4 to 9 inclusive.

Notes 1 There are two important caveats that should follow the Bentley quotation. First, while his volume is seen as being the catalyst for the twentieth-century study of interest groups, as Jordan (1999: 27) points out, ‘Bentley used the term in a sociological sense that included informal social associations as ‘groups’: these are not the sort of formal, collective organizations of the interest group type as identified in political science’. Of course, that makes his quotation particularly apposite for this chapter (and volume). Second, Golembiewski (1960: 58) argues that Bentley’s cavalier language was deliberately ‘tongue-in-check’ and his poetic exaggeration was intentionally designed to have a significant ‘shock effect’: ‘Its purpose was to pry students loose from their utopian theorizing, or at least force them to recognize their method and its limitations. The goal was the encouragement of empirical theory’. 2 The moral of the Making Democracy Work tale is that democratic and effective governance and associational life are mutually intertwined and mutually dependent. 3 Madison (1787, 2003: 30) argued that factions were ‘united and actuated by some common impulse of passion, or of interest, adverse to the rights of other citizens, or to the permanent and aggregate interest of the community’.

Part I

Mapping the associational universe

2

Organizations in context Politics and culture shaping associational life Joan Font, Peter Geurts, William A. Maloney and Marina Berton

Introduction This volume subjects voluntary associations to careful scrutiny through an analysis of activities, functions, resources, internal structure, etc. However, before such an investigation can be undertaken it is crucial to recognize that the associational universe is not hermetically sealed. It is located in a specific cultural, economic, social and political context that has a significant impact on its shape, structure and modus operandi. Accordingly, the raison d’être of this chapter is two-fold. First, to explain the research design (and present some basic empirical evidence). In this regard three main questions are addressed: why choose organizations as the basic unit of analysis?; why organizations from these six European cities?; and to what extent does this research design represent a (scientific) advance on previous studies of associations? Second, the chapter places the associational universes in their local contexts identifying the main characteristics that are likely to have the greatest impact on the operation of the associational universe. The intention is not to provide a comprehensive description of all six cities, but simply to focus on key comparative aspects (e.g. democratic experiences/development; welfare state etc., see below).

The research design: justification and explanation Why choose organizations as the basic unit of analysis? This question has been largely addressed in Chapter 1. However, in brief summary: voluntary associations play an important role as facilitators and mediators of social and political participation and are widely perceived as making a significant contribution to societal and democratic health. Their contribution is multi-faceted (see Chapter 1) and in the current epoch, a vibrant and diverse associational life is not seen as an extravagance, but a basic necessity. In short, the focus on organizations relates directly to their potential role as vehicles for citizens’ participation and throughout this

20 Font et al. volume we provide a detailed investigation of the complexities of the associative machine. Why organizations from these six European cities? In all six countries1 the municipalities chosen are large enough to have a rich and diverse associational life, including (local) associational networks and (local) umbrella organizations. All the cities are regional centres with populations in excess of 100,000; have a mixture of industry and services (locally and internationally focused); have a fully-fledged educational system (with at least one university, and where applicable, a vocational school); a major hospital; and a cosmopolitan city centre. The research design is predicated upon the assumption that these cities provide the maximum variation of organizational types within the same (and varying) institutional structure(s). A comparative focus on associations at the citylevel permits: (i) the gathering of information on the opportunities for social and political participation – i.e. a complete picture of the associational universe in different institutional settings. Diverse institutional and organizational contexts are likely to have a differential impact on associations and ‘their’ members/supporters; and (ii) the organizational data facilitates an assessment of the opportunities for participation offered by voluntary associations – i.e. the range and depth of internal democracy, the degree of activity and volunteering in certain types of associations, or the substance and frequency of various kinds of activities etc. Finally, we would not seek to underplay the importance of pragmatic and logistical factors in our choice of cities. The location of the researchers (all based in, or very close to, these cities) and their local information and contacts provided an efficient means to conduct this research. Indeed, such local embeddedness/connectedness means that the research teams have a good feel for the opportunity structures, relationship to concrete policies and key local characteristics. To what extent does this research design represent an advance on previous studies of associations? The methodology used draws on four traditions: (i) the individualistic survey tradition in which characteristics of individual citizens are used to describe the associational life; (ii) the community tradition, tracing back to the Middletown series; (iii) (local) networks approach; and (iv) the associational survey tradition, a lá Newton (1976). Generally all studies on the impact of the organizational context on citizens’ behaviour and attitudes focus on individual characteristics. This is typically the case in survey-based research. While much useful and interesting evidence has been generated through this approach, there still remains a significant measurement problem. It is highly likely that much

Organizations in context

21

associational involvement will be overlooked (especially that of a less formal nature) because the findings are usually based on the ‘more popular’ associational categories (e.g. sports clubs, cultural associations, unions and religious associations). This limitation emerges for two main reasons. First, the survey instruments employed generally offer only a few categories to respondents. Second, the focus is usually on attaining representivity and there is the tendency to overlook the non-representative marginal types of activity that also demand investigation. This volume seeks to examine the multifarious, commonplace and not so commonplace, characteristics of the (local) associative universe. Thus the data has been collected at the organizational level because it is highly unlikely that many regular members/supporters know about the internal structure, sources of finance, numbers of employees, etc. of their association. Accordingly, the individualistic approach provides a relatively inaccurate proxy measure of the total contribution of voluntary associations. A more comprehensive and inclusive approach is required to tackle questions relating to societal and democratic impact. Moreover local and national politics are typically shaped by the relationship between associations and government and not between individual citizens and government. Survey methods alone lack the context sensitivity that is of particular significance when one focuses on organized collective action. Community studies – whose heritage can be traced back to the Middletown studies (Lynd and Lynd 1929) – have provided an exceptionally rich and detailed description of the multiple facets of community life. However, the volume of information generated by such (participant observation) research has led these studies to focus on small-scale communities. These communities are much less likely to provide the maximum variation in organizational structure, type, activities, functions, etc., than the cities examined here (100,000). This is an important aspect of our methodology. We have not chosen these cities on the basis of representivity. The crucial factor is the diversity of associational life and all six cities are excellent (comparative) test-beds. The fact that it is not a representative sample, but a complete inventory of all activity, enhances the veracity of generalization and conclusion drawing. A spin-off from the community studies is local network analysis. These investigations usually take issues and policy-domains as their datum and construct a network map (Lauman and Pappi 1976; Galaskiewicz 1979). The methodology is rigorous and (usually) highly impressive, and the information generated can be incredibly complex when the multitude of interconnections are exposed. However, these studies are not designed to capture all the associations active in one locale or internal organizational aspects. These studies primarily focus on the political activities of associations to the neglect of other relevant aspects – if one is interested in the democratic role of associations (see Chapter 4). Finally, there have been many surveys of local associations over the last

22 Font et al. 40 years or so. This approach begins by making an inventory of all established or formal/registered associations. The influential and seminal study of Birmingham (UK) by Newton (1976) is the archetypal example. This methodology has been followed by Hansen in Tromso (Hansen and Newton 1985), Selle in Hordaland (Norway), van Deth and Leijenaar (1994) and Lelieveldt (1999) in Zwolle (NL), and Maloney et al. (2000) in Birmingham. The added value of studying all associations, as opposed to specific associational types, is clear. A focus simply on sports clubs, choirs and political parties makes generalization impossible. The approach conducted here approximates to the associational survey tradition, nevertheless it represents a significant (comparative) advancement. As detailed below, even though these previous studies have been meticulous and thorough they have failed to capture associational activity of a more informal character. Such activity is an important aspect of this collaborative endeavour – much social capital can be generated within ‘looser’ associational forms. Mapping the associational universe The general design and guidelines for the study on local organizations followed a three-step approach (Figure 2.1). First, select an appropriate municipality. Second, make an inventory of all associational life.2 Third, mail a questionnaire to all organizations.3 Comprehensive mapping of the organizational universe was carried out in each city. The methodologies implemented were largely symmetrical and where (minor) deviations were made the research operated on the basis of functional equivalence. The average length of time spent on mapping was six months: no stone was left unturned (see Table 2.1). Common core

I

One ‘city’

Complementary activities ‘City’ B

‘One’ village II

Find all locally active organizations

III

Questionnaire to all organizations

‘City’ C...

Village B

Figure 2.1 Design of the study on local organizations.

Village C...


23

Table 2.1 Main characteristics of the fieldwork in six cities Inhabitants Number Reminders organizations initially 1st 2nd identified Aalborg Aberdeen Bern Enschede Mannheim Sabadell

161,661 212,650 122,537 150,449 319,944 185,270

2,031 1,907 1,198 1,658 5,002 1,129

Phone Mail Mail Phone Mail Phone

Mail – Mail Mail – Mail

3rd – – – – – Phone

Final Cases response in data ratea file (%) 50.4 36.5 55.0 50.2 36.0 31.9

1,023 497 742 832 1,618 360

Note a The final response rates are calculated on the basis on existing organizations at the time of the survey, not simply those that were identified via the mapping. For example, many groups had disbanded and this only came to light when the questionnaires were returned. There were also cases where questionnaires were returned, but were not usable.

Irrespective of such efforts, it is not being claimed that all social and political organizations active in these cities have been identified. However, we believe that we have come pretty close. Organizations were located through a wide variety of sources: Stage 1 Contacting – local authorities, journalists, other local bodies and voluntary sector umbrella organizations. Stage 2 Documentary analysis – of various local authorities and voluntary sector umbrella organizations newsletters, city-wide and local newspapers, neighbourhood leaflets, and magazines and other information mechanisms that link groups together. Stage 3 Detailed searches – of local archives and registers, directories of organizations, large institutions, telephone directories and yellow pages, and world wide web searches.4 Stage 4 Final round-up and validation – to root out double counting. This was an onerous task as many organizations were listed in several directories, often under different headings and with minor variations of organizational names. The success of mapping can be seen from the fact that several ad hoc and ephemeral organizations were identified. For example, in Aberdeen a local NIMBY group called STOP (Stop Tesco Opening Premises) opposed to the opening of a Tesco supermarket in their neighbourhood was discovered.5 Such a rigorous mapping procedure was undertaken to ensure methodological and theoretical robustness. This process permitted: iii comparative conclusion drawing on the density and diversity of associational universes. Incomplete mapping in one place would seriously undermine the reliability of any comparative results;

24 Font et al. iii an assessment of the voluntary sector in different cities, and the functions of similar/different organizational types was only possible by relating the strength and significance of similar/different organizations, in any given area, to the strength and significance of organizations not involved in that sphere; and iii an examination of all organizational types not only in terms of their goals, but also in relation to other crucial organizational characteristics (i.e. size, internal participation structures, income, source of income, level of institutionalization, etc.). A large number of organizations were discovered in each city ranging from 1,129 in Sabadell to 5,002 in Mannheim (the average was around 2,100). This generated high associational densities and impressive per capita ratios: e.g. one organization per 64 inhabitants in Mannheim. Previous research reported lower densities – 1:200 to 1:350 (Zimmer 1996: 94). Even those cities with less impressive ratios – e.g. Aberdeen (1:112) – exceeded expectations when juxtaposed with previous studies. Hall (2001: 21) reported data that estimated a ratio of 1:165 inhabitants for a medium-size city in Scotland. Such high numbers are partly explained by the mapping process that exposed less visible and less institutionalized segments of the associational universe.

The local contexts What are the main differences(/similarities) between the six cities? How have the local contexts affected: the shape and structure of associational life; associational activities; and the embeddedness and distribution of various organizational types? While there are a large number of contextual factors it is possible to identify three major categories: socio-cultural, institutional and political and policy. Socio-cultural context There are at least two potentially important aspects for this study: economic development and the extent of homogeneity/heterogeneity (most notably, the religious and ethnic dimensions). All these locales have mutated from being industrially based to service-orientated cities. In Aalborg the profile of activity has changed from ‘old’ to ‘new’ industries and, in Mannheim, while Daimler-Chrysler continues to be the main employer, electronic and pharmaceutical multinationals are now major players. Aberdeen has one of the largest traditional sectors – being Europe’s oil capital. Sabadell has become a full service sector city, where industry and construction together represent only 23 per cent of all employment. The service sector dominates in Enschede (57 per cent) – the Dutch city has retained a small primary sector (15 per cent) – and in


25

Table 2.2 Summary: contextual factors in the six cities Contextual factor Socio-cultural context Economic development Religion Ethnic plurality Institutional context Democratic development Federal states Institutions for direct participation

Distribution in the six cities

Cities most affected

No large differences More and positive effect of religious competition

– Mannheim (Enschede and Aberdeen) Aberdeen, Aalborg, Sabadell

Small presence of ethnic minorities Shorter democratic experience Regional governments and associations Institutions with decisionmaking capacity

Political context Direct and indirect support No clear differences Largest support in welfare Different effects in size, state funding and composition of the associational sector Political life Larger polarization

Sabadell Bern, Mannheim, Sabadell Bern, Aalborg, Mannheim

Aberdeen, Sabadell

Bern around 15 per cent of the labour force are industrially based. Unemployment is especially low in Aberdeen and Bern (2.3 per cent and 2.2 per cent respectively) and highest in Mannheim (10.6 per cent). Spain is the least affluent country in the group, but Sabadell is in Catalonia – one of the richer areas in the country (family income in Sabadell is very close to the EU average). In sum, differences in economic context are not particularly large (Table 2.2). Turning to the potential impact of the religious or ethnic dimensions: to what extent might the homogeneous or heterogeneous character of a locale affect the associational universe? In Chapter 3, Maloney and Roßteutscher argue that the replication of Protestant and Catholic Churchbased associations in Mannheim is a major explanatory factor for the high associational density in the German city. Mannheim’s population is split evenly between Protestants and Catholics and this divide is evident in all areas throughout the city. Consequently, each neighbourhood has a Catholic and Protestant church, various Catholic and Protestant welfarerelated organizations, sports, recreation and leisure associations etc. In Enschede, traditionally welfare delivery mirrored the German pattern (Protestant, Catholic and secular). However, in recent times this has all but vanished largely as a result of national and local policy developments. However, in other areas – e.g. education, sports and culture – this configuration remains prevalent. Finally, even in the confessionally homogeneous

26 Font et al. city of Aberdeen religious organizations are also important contributors to associational vibrancy. (In both Aberdeen and Mannheim religious organizations are heavily involved in the delivery of welfare services.) Finally, analysing the six cities from an ethnic homogeneity/heterogeneity perspective generates two clearly distinguishable groups of cities. On one side, the populations of Aalborg, Aberdeen and Sabadell6 include relatively small proportions of non-indigenous citizens. This contrasts with Bern, Enschede and Mannheim where ethnic groups comprise over 16 per cent of the population.7 The extent to which a locale is homogeneous or heterogeneous could impact on the associational universe in at least two ways. First, the greater the degree of heterogeneity (religious, ethnic, cultural etc.) among the population, the larger (and more diverse) the associational universe. The arrival of ethnic minorities has stimulated the founding of all kinds of ethnic associations varying from sports clubs, churches and welfare organizations. In Enschede many activities are duplicated along lines of ethnicity. The Moroccan Islamic Mosque organizes a wide range of activities from soccer to cultural clubs for Moroccan Muslim girls. While in recent years many Protestant, Catholic and secular organizations have merged, many new Islamic youth clubs have been established. Second – and following from the first hypothesis – the larger the number of associations, the greater the likelihood that associations will rely on private finance, rather than the finite resources of the public purse (see Chapter 7).8 Institutional explanations There are three main institutional characteristics that are important in understanding the shape and structure of the associational universe: democratic experiences/development; the impact of federal structures; and the degree of institutionalization of citizen participation. Democratic experiences/development The differential transitions to liberal democracy have affected the shape and structure of the voluntary sector. Denmark, Switzerland and the UK experienced a relatively smooth transition while Germany, the Netherlands and Spain endured a ‘bumpier ride’. In Denmark ‘freedom of association’ has been guaranteed by the Constitution since 1849, and between the 1870s and the 1930s Denmark witnessed the founding and consolidation of liberal democracy – with the emergence of many voluntary (social and charitable) associations. The voluntary sector was heavily involved in the delivery of many welfare services and poverty relief. Danish local (welfare) associations demanded that the municipal authorities take initiatives to combat poverty and to improve the social conditions of the poor. The ending of this period ushered in the social democratic era and the construction of the Welfare


27

State (1930–1980). Associational developments in the UK followed a similar pattern. Throughout the nineteenth (and twentieth) centuries the voluntary sector played an important role in both pushing the issues of welfare and poverty onto (and up the) political agenda, and in the delivery of these services. In addition to this, many nineteenth-century organizations (most notably, Friendly societies and Mutuals) were important social clubs (facilitating regular face-to-face interactions (Keen 1999: 646)) and were internally democratic with close attention being paid to procedures and ‘institutional etiquette’ (Thompson 1980: 457–8). In summary, during this era the voluntary sector had important service delivery and social capital functions. In Switzerland the adoption of a revised federal constitution in 1874 was particularly important for the development of associational life because it reinforced the centralization of the state and ‘encouraged’ associations to create a hierarchical structure to interface with the federal edifice. The 1918–1945 era witnessed the radicalization and division of the labour movement into several components – Catholic, Protestant, liberal and socialist ones – in addition to the split between the blue and white collar sectors. In Denmark the 1930s ushered in a period of growth for new leisure and sports concerns. At the national level formal patterns of cooperation between organizations and the state were established. While local cooperation took on an informal nature with recreation, sport and housing associations being subsidized to provide relevant services/activities. In the social aid and welfare areas the state assumed direct responsibility. Consequently many social and charitable associations disappeared because their main tasks and functions had been taken over by the state. In the UK the postwar era of expansion (1946–1973) was characterized by alternating ‘left’ and ‘right’ governments and there was a consensus on the major political issues – defence and foreign affairs; a commitment to full employment; mixed economy and Keynesianism; labour law; and the welfare state. The growth and consolidation of the UK welfare state witnessed the state supersede many voluntary associations in the provision of welfare services, most notably health and education. The impact of the 1973 oil crisis and subsequent economic pressures lead to retrenchment within the Danish and British economies – although the impact was felt much quicker and sharper in the UK (e.g. privatization has not been pursued as vigorously in Denmark). The welfare state has come under increasing pressure and organizations within welfare and charity areas have enjoyed a renaissance in both countries. Several welfare tasks have been ‘officially’ subcontracted to the voluntary sector and a ‘new consensus’ has emerged around nonstate solutions (i.e. the voluntary sector) and the contribution of the market (see below). In Switzerland during the inter-war and Second World War period the corporatist ideology was dominant. The post-war period was characterized by three main developments: (i) Boom (1946–1967). The introduction of the ‘magic’ formula for Swiss government (the governing

28 Font et al. Grand Coalition comprising the four major parties) led to an era of historically low political mobilization; (ii) Cultural revolution. The expansion of welfare state, modernization of country, and the mobilization by extreme right against immigration (beginning in 1964 peaking in the early 1970s); and (iii) Stagnation and crisis. Since 1990 Switzerland has gradually moved from a liberal welfare regime to a model closer to the continental European system. (West) Germany and the Netherlands share certain common features that affected associational development. Both were interrupted democracies (the interruption to Dutch democracy was during the shorter period of Nazi occupation), and had a religious cleavage (Catholic/ Protestant). The ‘Bismarck’ Reich (1871–1918) represents Germany’s first unification and had an important impact on the structure of the associative sector – essentially leading to the establishment of national umbrella organizations. The second half of the nineteenth century witnessed an unprecedented associative boom catalysed by the rapid process of industrialization and urbanization. In the Dutch case 1830 marked the beginning of the flourishing of cultural, social and political associations. The succeeding 130 years witnessed the gradual mutation from church-funded to public-funded schemes and emergence of the system of the fragmented social circles: vertical pluralism (pillarization) along religious divides. This led to the creation of separate educational systems and associational worlds. For each associational-type there was a protestant, a catholic and a secular (in many instances, socialist, or liberal depending on the field in question) version. Many of the associations formed in Germany and the Netherlands between the mid-nineteenth and early twentieth century focused on welfare issues (similar to the situation outlined above in the British, Danish and Swiss cases). The Weimar Republic (1919–1932) was (unfortunately) infamous for its combination of a highly democratic system with a strong and increasingly dominant non-democratic (anti-Republican, anti-Party, anti-Semitic) political culture (Sontheimer). Liberated from the legal restrictions of the predecessor regime, the associative sector boomed. However, its institutional structure and thematic concerns were very often not democratic in nature (Roßteutscher 2002). NationalSocialism (1933–1945) ended Germany’s first democratic experiment and associative freedom. Organizations faced the ‘choice’ between complete dissolution or forced integration into the National Socialist umbrella structure (Gleichschaltung), and a system of ‘coerced volunteering’ (with the prospect of severe punishment for non-participation) (Dechamps 1993: 87). The capitulation of the Nazi-regime resulted in collapse of all social and political life. In the early days of the Bundesrepublik (1946–1967) the German population was largely passive: associational membership was a minority sport and volunteering a peripheral concern. The main focus was on the material and physical survival and the ‘spirit


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of the day’ was dominated by a ‘without me’ (Ohne mich) attitude (Scheuch 1993: 143). Following German occupation the Dutch welfare state expanded along the lines of the religious divides and gradually central government influenced the spread across several welfare-related areas (Veldheer and Burger 1999). Since the advent of the Cultural Revolution (1968) and the adaptation of the welfare state to the new economic conditions many associations, especially umbrella organizations, merged. The national government developed a policy of subsidizing only one umbrella per field (instead of at least three under the system of vertical pluralism). Socialist dominated municipalities also forced many welfare organizations to merge or to cede ‘their’ activities to the local government. The vertical pluralistic associational structure has all but disappeared in this area. However, a remnant of this system is the fragmented primary and secondary school system. In addition to the traditional religious and secular divide several new Muslim primary schools have been established. These schools have flourished as a result of freedom of education legislation that grants each ideological or religious group the right to establish its own private school while being entitled to the same level of public funding as public schools. In general, the relationship between the Dutch state and voluntary sector can be characterized as co-operative and the state remains a major patron (see below and Veldheer and Burger 1999: 21). From 1968 to the late 1980s voluntary activity in Germany recovered and membership and volunteer numbers began to rise. Most notably, there was a rise in ‘new social movements’ – i.e. peace and the environment. This ‘new’ political climate found its expression in numerous alternative projects, citizen initiatives and self-help groups, experimenting with alternative ways of life against the perceived bankruptcy of traditionalism and ‘old’ politics (see Raschke 1988: 254ff). Finally, Spain is the ‘newest’ democracy in our study and its democratic development is a little more ‘complicated’ than the other five countries. In Spain the Association’s Law (1887) allowed the creation of all kind of organizations and in the early part of twentieth century associations were created (sometimes compulsorily) to regulate the performance of several economic and professional activities (e.g. chambers of commerce, professional associations, etc.). At the same time, cultural and political organizations began advancing the nationalist cause (especially in Catalonia and the Basque Country). The end of the nineteenth century and the first third of the twentieth were characterized by the appearance and the extension of associations typically associated with urban areas and closely related to development of the workers’ movement and nationalism. The arrival of the Franco regime dissolved a large part of the associational universe and took control of the remaining elements. State domination continued until the 1960s when economic development and a partial relaxation of repression stimulated associational growth. The nascent

30 Font et al. (and consolidating) Spanish democracy saw the flowering of associative movement. New organizations such as political parties, professional associations and trade unions emerged in conjunction with the restoration of civil and political rights and in 1978 the constitutional system recognized the right of association. Associationalism received an additional boost in the 1990s linked to increased participation by the young (most notably, in the sports, social care and charity, education and culture areas) (Perez Diaz 2002; Subirats 1999). The impact of federal structures The potential effects of federalism or, more generally, the effects of decentralization, are complex. A federal structure has several effects on the associational universe: (i) different political opportunity structures may effect behavioural patterns and engender a more complex set of relationships with different governmental levels; (ii) associations may tend to (internally) mirror the federal structure of the state (Kriesi and Baglioni 2001). Federalism exerts strong pressures on associations to organize along the lines of the political system;9 and (iii) federalism represents the institutional expression of the principle of subsidiarity. The practice of such subsidiarity sees civil society being called upon to solve collective problems with state intervention occurring only when it appears unable to deal effectively with the difficulty (Kriesi 1998: 264).10 The federal states (Germany, Spain and Switzerland) in which three of our associational universes are located all have some common and novel features. For example, a unique trait of Swiss federalism is that cantons have the capacity to independently organize their internal political affairs, while both German and Swiss federalism represent the institutional expression of the principle of subsidiarity (Article 32 of the basic law), which gives local communities the autonomy to solve many problems locally. Subsidiarity has consequences for the associational system – local constitutions offer various opportunities for citizen participation. Finally, Spain has been referred to as a ‘quasi-federal’ or ‘asymmetric-federal’ state (Linz 1997; Colomer 1998). While many governmental areas are shared by central and regional governments, others are devolved to autonomous communities. The Spanish state lacks some of the standard federal institutions of multilateral coordination and cooperation that would categorize it as a fully-fledged federal state. This institutional design implies that the multilevel structure of government in Spain has, to a certain extent, similar consequences for associational life as those in Germany and Switzerland. On the one hand, they have institutional incentives to organize themselves vertically following the governmental structures. On the other, associations are exposed to a variety of political and collective decisions at multiple levels – local, provincial, regional and national – that foster associational formation and activity.


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Mechanisms of citizen participation Direct-democratic institutions can have a significant impact on associational life: (allegedly) creating a virtuous circle of civic-mindedness and good government (Kirchgässner et al. 1999: 71–110). These institutions are important in the Swiss case – especially in the German-speaking cantons (e.g. Bern) that make greater use of direct-democratic instruments than their French counterparts (Kriesi 1998: 96). Such cantonal differences are also reflected at the local level.11 Accordingly, we may expect to find a higher level of civic vibrancy in the Swiss German speaking city/canton as opposed to French areas, and possibly even greater than in other cities. However, there are mechanisms for citizen involvement in other cities that affect associational development: e.g. committees where associations have differing levels of involvement and influence. In Mannheim, the Committees of ‘Environment and Technique’ and ‘Culture and School Affairs’ are referred to as ‘decision-making committees’ and the groups involved can be particularly influential. In addition to this, there are ‘advisory committees’ (in the areas of sport, economy and occupation). In Aalborg, contact between local authorities and associations in recent years has been formalized. One reason for this was a reform in the system of support to voluntary associations that required all municipalities to establish boards within the field of youth and adult education (including representatives from relevant associations). These boards manage a large proportion of the financial support to local cultural, sports and leisure associations, and they have an advisory capacity in relation to the local council. In other cities associations also have a role in policy formation. Many have an advisory role on city council committees on subjects such as minorities, the elderly etc. In conclusion, even if each of the ‘involvement’ procedures outlined above differ significantly, it would not be too cavalier to argue that their capacity to influence policy-making is potentially greater in Bern, Mannheim and Aalborg and more limited in the other three cities. Political and policy factors Ideology and Administrations All the cities covered in this research have traditionally had left-wing administrations. The differences that emerge between these locales relate largely to the shape of the governing coalitions. Sabadell had a postcommunist mayor for some 20 years, who was subsequently replaced in 1999 by a socialist one governing with the support of other centre parties. Mannheim experienced a similar rightwards shift. While it retains its socialist mayor, the CDU is now the largest single party. Enschede (where

32 Font et al. the mayor is appointed by central government) and Bern share a relatively consensual government, led by the socialist party but also including the major parties of the centre-right (and the Greens in Bern). Finally, Aalborg and Aberdeen are social-democratic lead, in the former case governing in coalition with two smaller parties. While the political complexion of the administrations in each locale share some similarities, the relationship between the political parties is characterized by a greater degree of diversity. In Aalborg and Enschede there is much consensus. In Mannheim the presence of a large number of policy-specific committees, and in Bern, a large coalition government militate against the polarization of local political life. Aberdeen and Sabadell have experienced greater conflict – between two left-of-centre parties. The composition and modus operandi of the political administrations may affect the pattern of the relationship between associations and municipal authorities, and possibly even inter-associational relations. If political polarization is reflected in the associational universe then we should find similar division among associations, and varying types of relationships with local government (e.g. in terms of public funding). It would be also noteworthy if these differences did not appear (see Chapter 8). The empirical results will provide a good insight into the level of autonomy between political authorities and the associational worlds. Direct and indirect financial support All city administrations have a range of policies and funding arrangements aimed at supporting associational activities (including de facto and formal payments for the subcontracting of the delivery of specific services). In some cities it is possible to identify expenditure specifically allocated to bolster and foster organizational maintenance. In Aalborg, Enschede and Sabadell approximately 1 per cent of the municipal budgets are allocated to this purpose. This equates to 4.6 million euro in Aalborg, five million euro in Enschede and 1.6 million euro in Sabadell.12 Associational support also comes from other supra-local governments. In the Netherlands the central state provide a substantial level of financial assistance, while Spanish associations receive significant support from provincial or regional governments.13 Governments also foster and encourage voluntary activity in several areas through tax incentives and special legal provisions. In several European countries many voluntary associations are exempted from paying company taxes and VAT, and private companies (and individuals) that make donations are permitted to write these off against ‘their’ tax liabilities. Many associations also enjoy a legal status that entitles them to qualify for government subsidies and grants (see Chapter 5 for a more detailed discussion of these issues). The source of funding might affect the size, shape and structure of the


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associational universe (see Chapters 7 and 9). For example, if government is unwilling or unable to fund certain activities (most notably in the areas where collective goods are generated) then the incentives for voluntary organizations to supply such goods increases. Where governments make adequate provision the incentive for voluntary action is reduced. In fact, government action could ‘ “crowd out” traditional suppliers of these services, such as solidarity networks and nonprofits and discourage private philanthropy’ (Salamon and Sokolowskji 2001: 8). There is a third alternative that government funding might encourage the provision of certain services and enhance the mobilizing capacity of voluntary organizations: government funding could stimulate the generation of activism and volunteering.14 We could also hypothesize that the more associationally supportive and lax the tax regime and legal restrictions, the larger the organizational universe. The voluntary sector and the welfare state The differing institutional structures, service provision and welfare cultures are an important contextual variable in our analyses. EspingAndersen (1990) famously argued that countries share several common denominator characteristics that lead to the creation of different types of welfare-state regimes, while Kuhnle and Alestalo (2000: 6) note that welfare provision is delivered by four actors – the state, the market, civil society and the family – and the varying inputs of these ‘actors’ provide the basis for welfare regime classification. For example, different associational structures between say Germany and Denmark may partly be explained by the fact that, in the former country, the Catholic Church is an important welfare provider and, in the latter, the state is the major welfare player. Until the 1970s the Swiss welfare state could be characterized as ‘liberal’. However, because of the cumulative effect of incremental changes Switzerland now more closely resembles a continental European welfare state (Armingeon 2001: 145–6). Within these states the Catholic Church plays an important role and the welfare system can be characterized as ‘particularistic and inegalitarian, conserving differences due to societal stratification, gender and civil status’. Notwithstanding these developments, it should be stressed that the Swiss welfare state continues to exhibit strong liberal characteristics. This unique liberal/conservative combination is the defining characteristic of the Swiss model (Bonoli 2001: 135). With regard to labour-market regulations and welfare Switzerland is close to the US model, but in work–family relationships and attitudes towards foreign workers it resembles Germany. Since the 1980s the British welfare state has begun to exhibit liberal characteristics. However, the welfare regime has mutated (1948) from a system characterized by universal provision (equal but minimal care for all in need), to one increasingly predicated on neo-liberal tenets (since the late 1970s). The

34 Font et al. British welfare state was the culmination of a relatively long period of reform through the late eighteenth century up to the creation of the major post-war (Beveridge) institutions. What emerged in the UK in this era of relatively intense institutional innovation (1944 and 1948) was a ‘new mixed economy of welfare’. Health and education were the two key areas where the state became the primary service provider (although private provision continued). In other areas the family and the market ‘satisfied’ many other welfare needs. If gaps existed or emerged in welfare provision the state sought to fill the gaps, but the intention was not to replace the family or market (Clarke and Langan 1993: 23). The German and Dutch models can be characterized as coming closest to the continental Bismarckian welfare states. There is a generous insurance-based system aimed at full-time (male) employees that seeks to maintain differentials and traditionally recognized status. In summary, the corporatist model witnessed the state superseding the market as the main welfare provider – significantly reducing the importance of private insurance and occupational fringe benefits. Simultaneously, the state bolstered and upheld status differentials and relegated redistribution to the margins by restricting coverage to wage-earners only, not all citizens. The basic principles of this system remain largely intact today. German employees are afforded better protection than their counterparts in Denmark, Spain, Switzerland and the UK. It is also noteworthy that in Germany, the three major associational ‘welfare players’ are the Protestant church (Diakonie), the Catholic Church (Caritas) and the working class (Arbeiterwohlfahrt). At the local level these actors are the main deliverers of services not directly related to employment, while the state remains in the background as chief financier.15 In comparison to other European welfare states local organizations in Germany are fully integrated into a public system of welfare provision. The 1990s witnessed the Dutch and German economies coming under considerable economic pressure (i.e. rising unemployment and accelerating social spending), and Germany faced the additional burden of the reunification of over ten million former East-German citizens. These citizens were treated on an equivalent basis to their western counterparts with regard to social security entitlements and benefits. This led to calls for cut-backs and restraint. Interestingly however, retrenchment was more severe in the Netherlands, partly because there was little support for change among the German citizenry. German citizens’ commitment to the welfare state, redistributive values and social market economy were not undermined by the developments of the 1990s, but were in fact reinforced (see Schmidt 2000: 276–8). Moreno (2001: 100) labelled the Spanish welfare state as via media because it incorporates various aspects of the British and German systems: ‘It combines universal and targeted access to services and benefits’. Spain has a medium-sized system of social protection relative to other EU states. Since the mid-1980s Spain has pursued a welfare convergence pattern on three


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main levels. ‘First, universalization of social entitlements (education, health pensions). Second, convergence in social expenditure patterns to the European median. Third, diversification in the provision of social services by private and “third sector” organizations’ (Moreno 2001: 108). The Spanish welfare state remains smaller than in the other countries covered in this research. The state has increased its role in a significant way during the democratic period. However, important social network functions carried out by the State in other European countries are undertaken by families in Spain. Finally, Denmark is generally perceived to represent a diluted version of the generic Nordic model. The traditional conception of this model saw the state as the primary welfare provider, largely because no other such provider existed in the early part of the twentieth century (Kuhnle 2000: 209–10). The economic pressures that lead other countries to alter the principle tenets of ‘their’ welfare provision had little impact in the Nordic countries. The institutionalized pattern of universalism (covering social security and access to health and social services, excluding dental care) while being subject to pressure through much of the 1990s, and witnessing some retrenchment efforts, has largely been maintained. In Aalborg there is a great deal of cooperation between associations and local government in the delivery of welfare (and other services, e.g. sports, culture, leisure, education, etc.). ‘Informal’ agreements exist between local authorities and the voluntary sector over the division of labour. Local authorities make available facilities and infrastructure and the associations carry out the relevant activities. This structure has become more ‘formalized’ in recent years and has spread from the areas of leisure, sports, culture and housing to charity and social integration.16 Thus in the 1990s, Danish charity and welfare associations enjoyed a renaissance and now play a much enlarged role, most notably in the areas of social ‘inclusion’/‘exclusion’ and integration. The brief description of the key characteristics of the welfare states (provided above) has generated several testable hypotheses (which have been adapted from Salamon and Anheier 1996). First, there should be a correlation between governmental welfare spending and the number of welfare groups in the associational universe – the higher the expenditure level, the larger the welfare component. Second, there should be a relationship between governmental welfare spending and the financial (in)dependence of the voluntary (welfare) sector – the greater the spend the heavier the dependence. Third, government welfare expenditure and the shape of the voluntary sector should be affected by the nature of the welfare regime. For example, in corporatist regimes (such as Germany and the Netherlands) this relationship is direct: higher governmental welfare expenditure has increased the size of the voluntary sector –in liberal and social democratic regimes it should depress the formation of organizations. In these regimes private giving is likely to dominate, while under a corporatist model government support should be dominant (Salamon and Anheier 1996: 16, 20)17.

36 Font et al.

Conclusion This volume focuses on organizational origins, characteristics and main functions. In seeking to critically assess these factors it has been argued that (the economic, social, political and cultural) context matters! Accordingly, one of the main goals of this chapter has been to map some of the key contextual aspects in the six areas. It should also be noted that the implicit (fundamental) assumption throughout this chapter is that the contextual factors discussed above will in some way facilitate or constraint the development of the associational sector. However, as the succeeding chapters illustrate, (contextual) effects may be more complex and variations thereof may not necessarily produce more or less associations. For example, a larger role in service provision may not simply produce more associations, but may stimulate organizations that are either more professional, or have a stronger capacity to mobilize volunteers. Similarly, the main consequence of a federal state will be regionally organized associations and a richer set of institutional partners to deal with, more than a larger or smaller associational universe. While contexts may help us understand important differences, the main goal of this volume is to study organizations. We have explained the methodological and theoretical reasoning that informed our mapping strategy – cities with populations in excess of 100,000 that can support a fully-fledged organizational universe in breadth, width and depth. Given this and the comparative dimension to this research, arguably several findings may be generalizable beyond the six locales examined in this volume, at least with respect to associational landscapes in medium-size cities.

Notes 1 In three of the six countries involved (Germany, Spain and Switzerland) more than one municipality has been researched. The choice of the municipalities was predicated on issues such as, size, cultural, linguistic and regional cleavages. The ‘additional’ locales are only examined in Chapters 10 and 11 and the remaining empirical chapters focus solely on the six main cities. 2 To be included in our samples organizations had to be: (i) independent of government and self-governing (we included organizations that received government patronage – e.g. grants, subsidies or other financial support – but decision-making and control had to remain internal); (ii) Not-profitdistributing and primarily non-business (we included voluntary associations of businesses – e.g. Chambers of Commerce, Business Federation); (iii) voluntary – they should be sustained by voluntary citizen involvement and voluntary philanthropic contributions: there should be absolutely no compulsion; and d) visible – e.g. having a name and being in existence for at least a few months – adapted from Kendall and Knapp (1996: 18). 3 When mapping was complete all organizations received a short questionnaire. The final response rates are shown in Table 2.1 and range from an impressive 55 per cent in Bern to a highly respectable 32 per cent in Sabadell (the average was 43 per cent). We are confident that the mapping is fully inclusive and that the organizations that returned the questionnaires are reflective of the mapped universe.


37

4 These searches targeted both local web addresses and national addresses looking for national level organizations with local branches or chapters. 5 In Mannheim a fifth mapping stage was undertaken. The Mannheim team encountered several informal networks or umbrella organizations that refused to provide the names and addresses of their affiliates. It was evident that a vibrant self-help sector existed, but through the normal mapping (stages 1 to 4) only a fraction of these organizations were identified. Subsequently, contact was established with an informal (volunteer) coordinator of the entire self-help sector consisting of 120 groups who agreed to distribute the questionnaires to guarantee anonymity. A similar problem appeared with several religious organizations. As a consequence, in Mannheim there are two distinct ‘ns’. There is a hard ‘n’ of 3,075 organizational names and addresses of the contact persons. This hard ‘n’ includes 184 distributor organizations. There is a soft ‘n’ of 5,002 groups that consists of the 3,075 hard addresses and 1,927 groups that could only be reached via distributors (the number of groups comes from information supplied by the distributor). 6 It should be noted that in Sabadell approximately half of its population originated from other areas of Spain with different languages and cultures. This migration was particularly heavy during the 1950s and 1960s. 7 In Enschede and Mannheim citizens of Turkish origin are the largest ethnic group. In Bern, the non-indigenous population are largely EU citizens (most notably from Southern Europe). 8 It is also worth noting that locales with a greater preponderance of large associations may also have a financial impact of the finite public purse. Bigger associations need, and will seek, more resources, including public subsidies. 9 The difference between unitary and federal states is probably less important at the local level than the regional. Even in unitary states, local chapters of national organizations are likely to form, but these local chapters are likely to be directly affiliated to national peak organizations. In federal states, however, they tend to be inserted into a multi-layered system with an important, intermediary regional level. 10 There is an interpenetration of the state and private agencies in many policy areas – most notably welfare. As Armingeon (2001: 154–5) argues, it is noteworthy that federalism has acted as an impediment to the development of the welfare state in Switzerland because every new social policy requires a constitutional amendment. Municipal and cantonal authorities also enjoy a great deal of implementation power and most federal-initiated policy is made in cooperation with the lower levels. Similarly, Spanish federalism also impacts on the delivery of welfare services. One of the key characteristics of the Spanish welfare state is institutional fragmentation involving cooperation and collaboration between the three layers of government (Federal, Regional and Local). 11 For example, in Bern, citizens had to vote on 130 local initiatives or referenda during the period 1980–1990, compared to only seven in Lausanne (Huissoud and Joye 1991). 12 These figures carry an important ‘public health’ warning for three main reasons. First, in most cases they are rough estimates based on several sources of money distributed through departments. Second, they are likely to include money spent on a wide variety of activities related to the associational world (e.g. ranging from money granted unconditionally to groups to money spent by a municipality to publish a directory of associations). Third, support to associations can be provided without any money-transfer, through free or subsidized use of local infrastructures and facilities (buildings to meet, sports halls etc.). 13 The Catalan government has often been accused of clientelistic practices with sections of the associational universe largely because of a lack of transparency.

38 Font et al. 14 Herreros and Criado (2001) show that there is a clear correlation between public spending and associational membership as measured in World Values Surveys. Maloney et al. (2000) highlighted the importance of state promotion of associations. 15 The continuing relevance of this historical structure is clearly visible in contemporary Mannheim. Of all kindergartens in Mannheim, 35 are run by the city, 58 by the Diakonie, 44 by the Caritas and nine by others. 16 There has been a long tradition of cooperation concerning the establishment and management of social housing in Aalborg. 17 These hypotheses have been adapted from Salamon’s and Anheier’s (1996) discussion of the relationship between the nonprofit sector and the welfare state regime.

3

The associational universe in Europe Size and participation William A. Maloney and Sigrid Roßteutscher

Introduction Most contemporary discussions on the contribution of associations to the civic and democratic health of nations begin with reference to Tocqueville (1969) and Putnam (1993; 2000). Tocqueville (1969: 521, 514–15) perceived associations as having important social and political functions – most notably integration – and further argued that a society whose citizenry lacked the appetite for forming associations would be in peril. While Putnam famously argued that: civil associations contribute to the effectiveness and stability of democratic government . . . both because of their ‘internal’ effects on individual members and because of their ‘external’ effects on the wider polity. Internally, associations instill in their members habits of cooperation, solidarity, and public spiritedness . . . Externally . . . a dense network of secondary associations . . . contributes to effective social collaboration.1 (Putnam 1993: 89–90) Accordingly, civic and democratic health is predicated upon the existence of both a wide diversity and a large number of associations (and members). For scholars such as Putnam (1995b and 2000) numbers matter! The shrinking of the voluntary sector in the United States2 – most notably the decline in the number of classic secondary associations and the growth of (democratically inferior) tertiary organizations – is of major concern.3 Thus, the starting point for our analyses of political and civic vitality is the ‘first principle’ assumption that before there can be much ‘normal’ participation organizations must exist through which participation can take place. In the first instance, this view directly correlates the vitality of associational life with the health of democracy: the greater the number (and diversity) the healthier the democracy. However, we are mindful of both van Deth’s and Kreuter’s (1998: 139) caution that ‘simply adding the number of associations to measure individual organizational

40 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher participation’ is problematic; and Roßteutscher and van Deth’s argument that simply taking the number of associations as a proxy measure of civic or democratic vibrancy is based on the largely implicit and wholly heroic assumption: that each type of membership should contribute the same weight to the single score for each respondent . . . It is certainly not self evident that membership in organizations as different as sports clubs, trade unions, and health organizations can be simply added in order to measure the level of social engagement. We must investigate the variety of memberships from large time commitments to passive membership. (Roßteutscher and van Deth 2002: 2) Hence, this is why the volume accepts that the size of the associational universe is an appropriate place to begin4, but quickly moves on to examine the detail of the terrain and the substance of associational life. For example, while numbers may be indicative of associational vibrancy and health, the range, diversity and substance of activity is of greater importance: a large number does not mean that everything in the associational garden is rosy. Big numbers could mask the fact that certain ‘interests’ remain relatively under-mobilized. Thus ‘more’ might simply mean more involvement by those who are already highly active, leading to substantially ‘less’ democracy.

The density of associational life in European cities We begin this first empirical chapter derived from our cross-national survey by providing a comprehensive description of the differences in the density and spread of civil society in several European cities. Table 3.1 below reveals that organizational density varies significantly from city to city. Some variations are not particularly surprising: e.g. most comparative research on participation and voluntary activity places the Scandinavian countries at the top of the list. Thus the position of Aalborg is simply what one would have hypothesized on the basis of previous work. The unique Scandinavian models of welfare and democracy have a long-standing reputation for being particularly efficient in the production of social capital (in all its variants) (Rothstein 2001b; Gabriel et al. 2002). Likewise, the laggard position of the Spanish city of Sabadell confirms both conventional wisdom and previous empirical research. Southern European countries with their long tradition of autocratic rule start from a low base on almost all indicators of citizen participation and community involvement. The centralized and encompassing structure of Catholicism, on the one hand, and the non-democratic history engendered a political culture that perceived the state and state bureaucracy as ‘foreign’ bodies. In fact, one

The associational universe in Europe 41 might go so far as to argue that many citizens exhibited outright hostility to these ‘alien’ entities, which created a public climate that was not conducive to the development of the art of association, or the spirit of voluntary action. Between the Scandinavia and Southern Europe extremes most European cities occupy positions near the mean. Enschede comes closest to the Scandinavian pattern, and Bern and Aberdeen exhibit a modest level of associative activity. While the middle-ranking positions of the British and Swiss cities is of little surprise (see Gabriel et al. 2002; Smith 1993), these findings demand further elaboration. Both countries are characterized by a long and relatively smooth transition to democracy. They did not endure any sudden regime changes or democratic breakdowns familiar in most South and Middle/East European countries including Germany (see Chapter 2 for a general description and Chapter 10 for a detailed analyses of generational experiences). Moreover, both Scotland and Switzerland are dominated by sectorial and highly de-centralized patterns of Protestantism that in other contexts, such as the US, are seen as a major explanatory factor for the shape and structure of civic life in America (Wuthnow 1999; 2003). The high associational density in Mannheim is particularly noteworthy. In contrast to previous research – where Germany normally emerges as a middle-ranking country – Mannheim’s position is ‘idiosyncratic’. Building on arguments outlined in Chapter 2 on the extent to which cities can be characterized as homogeneous or heterogeneous there are two main (and two subsidiary) explanatory factors for such vibrancy. First, the nonindigenous (German) residents in Mannheim account for around 20 per cent of the total population. The growth of minority populations has acted as a catalyst for the foundation of a large range of associations in many areas religious, cultural, leisure and recreation etc. Second, and more importantly, is the religious dimension. Arguably, the city is characterized by an ‘over-capacity’ of churches and church-based organizations. The religious population is evenly split between Protestants and Catholics Table 3.1 The relative density of civil society

Aalborg Aberdeen Bern Enschede Mannheim Sabadell

Number of groups mapped

Number of inhabitants

Organizations per inhabitants

Relative density (no. of org per 1,000 inhabitants

2,031 1,907 1,198 1,658 5,002 1,129

161,661 212,650 122,537 150,499 319,944 185,270

1 per 80 1 per 112 1 per 102 1 per 91 1 per 64 1 per 164

12.6 8.9 9.7 11.0 15.6 6.1

42 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher (with the secular component becoming an increasingly important minority as elsewhere in Europe). This cleavage is prevalent in all districts and quarters and there are no predominantly Catholic or predominantly Protestant areas, but a more or less even denominational split throughout the city. Each neighbourhood that has a Catholic and Protestant church will also have a Catholic and Protestant kindergarten, a Catholic and Protestant women’s club, a Catholic and Protestant pensioners club, etc. Thus there are a total of 90 local parishes in Mannheim and each parish has an average of ten groups. This duplication of many non-sacramental religious activities is one reason for the large number of associations. In addition to these two major factors there are a further two subsidiary elements. First, Mannheim has a heavily de-centralized character – owing to a particularly distinctive pattern of community development in the nineteenth and early twentieth century. During this era the city grew (on a geographical and population basis) predominantly by incorporating previously autonomous communities, villages and small towns. As a result, many areas of Mannheim have retained their ‘historic’ civic life, covering the range and spread of associative activity. Second, it might simply be the case that previous (survey) research has significantly underestimated the extent of associative activity in (West) Germany because of its methodological focus on individual involvement patterns (see Chapter 4 for more details). For the time being, it is important to note that there are significant differences in the size of the voluntary sector amongst our cities: civil society appears to be most vibrant in Mannheim and Aalborg with one association per 60 to 80 inhabitants. In contrast, the Sabadell ratio is 1 association per 160 inhabitants. The density in the top-ranking cities is almost three times that of the bottom. From the perspective of the potential joiner, density may equate to greater choice and accessibility: the higher the density, the more likely it is that individuals will find the association they want to participate in, and an association that is easy to reach, i.e. close to potential members’ homes. Moreover, associative density might also signal associative competition for members. If, for example, inhabitants with an appetite for singing have the opportunity to choose between several choral societies then two consequences might flow. First, there may be greater organizational specialization within the sector: organizations may seek to fill specific niches that distinguish them from – or even give them a competitive advantage over – other groups. Second, and more importantly from a democratic standpoint, groups might be forced to adopt certain strategies to gain and maintain members. The necessity to compete might lead to a particular responsiveness and openness to the demands of the ordinary member: the members’ exit option would be a significant threat to the organizational leadership. If such a plausible hypothesis were substantiated, then the somewhat simple and seemingly superficial indicator of sector size would in effect be an indicator of civil

The associational universe in Europe 43 society’s quality as well. (If, and how, size is related to quality in terms of enhancing volunteering and generating social capital is addressed below.)

Vehicles of (and for) participation – measuring participatory outputs One of the key discussions for this volume – and debates around the issues of participation, civic engagement and social capital generally – are the participatory outputs of associations. How many citizens are mobilized? How active are group members? How much volunteering is produced? In this chapter we measure participatory outputs by focusing on the distinction between quantity (i.e. numbers of activists, volunteers) and efficiency (i.e. ratios members/activists, members/volunteers etc.). 5 This is empirically and theoretically meaningful because different associations are likely to have a differing impact on the associational terrain. For example, are certain types of organization superior in producing active involvement – i.e. mobilizing relatively large numbers of activists and volunteers (the quantity measurement)? How effectively can organizational types mobilize from their own membership pool (the efficiency measurement)? Clearly, quantity is not a synonym for efficiency. Arguably large organizations with many volunteers and activists might be the least efficient agents in turning passive involvement active. Such ‘inefficiency’ may not be of major concern to large organizations because they are rich in membership resources and need only mobilize a relatively small proportion of their members to maintain a viable association. Notwithstanding this, clearly the (economic) optimum would be an association that activated a large proportion of its passive members into activism and volunteering. Turning away from the micro- to the macro-level of the voluntary sector generally we see that cities ‘blessed’ with large numbers of organizations need only mobilize a relatively small number of individuals into participatory and volunteering roles. Large organizational numbers could compensate for mobilization inefficiencies. In cities where organizational numbers and densities are not so ‘healthy’, low mobilization could be more democratically and socially problematic. Table 3.2 illustrates the range of involvement in the six cities. In absolute terms, associations in Bern ‘attract’ the largest number of members and from this large pool ‘mobilize’ the highest number of active members. Table 3.2 Involvement in organizations (mean figures)

Members, in general Active members Volunteers

Aalborg

Aberdeen

Bern

Enschede

Mannheim

Sabadell

185 106 26

138 90 34

206 111 26

144 74 33

145 66 17

185 87 14

44 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher The average Bern association has a membership of 206, of which 111 are turned active. Aalborg and Sabadell do not trail too far behind Bern in terms of members and activists; and in relation to the average number of members Aberdeen, Enschede and Mannheim are roughly similar (between 138 and 145). However, groups in the Scottish city appear to be more efficient activators than its Dutch and German counterparts. In Aberdeen, from a pool of 138 members, 90 are turned active. In Enschede and Mannheim, the result is much less impressive, 74 (from 144) and 66 (from 145) respectively. Turning to volunteering Mannheim is the ‘nonSouthern European’ outlier with by far the fewest number of volunteers (average of 17 per association): Aberdeen and Enschede associations are the champions of volunteering (with an average of 33), and Sabadell occupies the lowest position (14). Moving from quantity to efficiency measures a slightly different picture emerges. Associations in Aberdeen appear to be the most efficient at activating a larger proportion of their membership (with a ratio score of 0.71), i.e. 71 per cent of all members are activists. Consequently, the Aberdeen sector possesses the highest percentage of organizations where all members are active (59 per cent). Bern, Mannheim and Sabadell have comparatively low ratios of active to passive involvement (between 0.54 and 0.55, i.e. marginally above 50 per cent of the members are active), and the lowest number of associations where all members are activists (about 40 per cent). Aalborg and Enschede, with an active:passive ratio Table 3.3 Involvement ratios

Active to passive members

Volunteer to passive members

Neither active nor passive members No active members Ratio* All members are active* Neither passive nor volunteers No volunteers Ratio** All members are volunteers**

Aalborg

Aberdeen

Bern

Enschede

Mannheim

Sabadell

0.2%

5.8%

7.5%

16.3%

8.3%

1.7%

0.5%

13.8%

18.6%

21.4%

17.4%

10.5%

0.65 50.7%

0.71 59.2%

0.54 41.1%

0.60 47.4%

0.55 42.0%

0.56 43.5%

0.1%

2.1%

6.0%

6.4%

5.6%

0.6%

5.1% 0.23

32.5% 0.28

24.4% 0.21

23.6% 0.33

25.9% 0.27

50.6% 0.17

8.6%

15.3%

10.6%

20.1%

15.7%

10.2%

Notes *Excluding all organizations that claim to have neither passive nor active members. **Excluding all organizations that claim to have neither passive members nor volunteers.

The associational universe in Europe 45 around 0.6, and where roughly 50 per cent of associations have only active members, lag behind the mobilization potential of Aberdeen’s sector but are way out in front of Bern, Mannheim and Sabadell. However, there is an idiosyncratic aspect to the Dutch data: 16 per cent of all associations report that they have neither passive nor active members. Considering that the presence of a membership basis is one of the defining criteria of a voluntary association, this rather high number of non-member based associations in Enschede requires further investigation. In fact, this curiosity is not restricted to the Dutch city: in all our cities (with the exception of Aalborg) there are significant proportions of the associational sector that claim not to have any members – neither passive nor active (between 2 per cent in Sabadell and up to 8 per cent in the cases of Mannheim and Bern). How come? There are several explanations for these numbers. First, in all cities there are some associations whose members are not individuals but other associations. Those associations are truly ‘voluntary’, but they are not membership based in the traditional sense. Second, for example, in the UK there are organizations that are registered charities that provide free support or help to client groups. The client groups are not necessarily members of these organizations, in fact, these organizations may have no mechanisms for formal (voluntary) membership. However, they are funded on the basis of voluntary giving and use this income to employ paid staff to carry out the services, functions and activities (e.g. Age Concern Counselling and Advice Centre). Third, several organizations answered the questionnaire extremely accurately stating that they had no members, but only volunteers or participants. Fourth, and related to (and following on from the second point), some types of associations, in particular those with a loser structure, such as self-help organizations or associations within ‘movement’ sectors, might have an (ideological) animus with the terms ‘member’ or ‘participants’ and did not report any figures for their constituency. These factors go a long way to explaining the existence of nonmember based organizations in the data sets of Aberdeen, Bern, Mannheim, or Sabadell. However it is difficult to see how such explanations might account for the 16 per cent in Enschede. There are, however, many charity or educational foundations in Enschede. Under Dutch law they are treated as any other ‘normal’ voluntary association although they operate without a member base.6 In general, the active:passive ratios and the activation of all members are relatively high in most cities. It is interesting to note that almost all the Danish organizations stated that they had active members, whereas over onefifth of groups in Enschede, and between 10 and 19 per cent in all other cities claimed to have no active members. Aalborg is also interesting when looking at the volunteer component of the associational sector: only a meagre 5 per cent of Aalborg’s associations operate without volunteers. This is outstanding compared to all other cities where the lack of

46 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher volunteers can climb up to 50 per cent (Sabadell), but generally remains on a rather high level (between 24 and 33 per cent of associations do not have volunteers at their disposal). Clearly, but with the exception of Aalborg, volunteering is a far less common sport than activism. This is highlighted if we look at the relationship between members and volunteers within organizations. Only between one-fourth to one-fifth of the members can be recruited as volunteers. The difficulty in generating volunteers is also reflected in the low numbers of associations which are fully volunteer based, i.e. where all members do volunteer work as well. This is the case for 9 per cent of Aalborg’s associations and 20 per cent of Enschede’s. All other cities are somewhere in between.

Comparing patterns of involvement This chapter began by analysing sector size and found significant differences in the general density of civil society in the six cities. It then moved on to examine what happens within associations: how many members? How many activists? How many volunteers? What is the relationship between passive and active members? etc. Ultimately however, the research questions are not directed at sector size or involvement patterns per se. The main concern of this chapter (and the volume) is: how do certain features of associations foster or inhibit the generation of social capital? In other words, how important are traits such as the vibrancy of associative life, the culture of volunteering and active community involvement? Social capitalists believe they are crucial to the democratic health. As demonstrated above, there are diverse generators of volunteering and activism. One important factor is the size and density of the civil society sector. Another is what happens in the associations. While both sector size and innerassociative involvement patterns can be related, it is best to deal with them discretely. The previous analyses hinted at the possibility that civil society’s size and density is independent of whether the associative ‘group’ is characterized by both passive or active involvement patterns. We conclude the empirical analysis in this chapter with a hypothetical experiment that estimates the size of the entire voluntary sector in our cities. In all cases the empirical analyses represent between 30 to 50 per cent of the universe of associations (see Chapter 2 for details). While these response rates are healthy, they are insufficient to calculate the absolute stocks of members and volunteers. In order to do this, we would need to assume that the other part (in some cities the larger component) of the voluntary sector – that declined to participate in our study – is more or less identical to the percentage that consented. This assumption is not entirely unproblematic because it would be reasonable to assume that the non-responses came from the less visible, smaller, and less professional components of the sector. However, having concluded the research in this area the evidence actually points in the opposite direction: generally the

The associational universe in Europe 47 smaller, less professional associations responded quicker and were more willing to return our questionnaires than their large-scale, highly professionalized counterparts. The figures presented in Table 3.4 should simply be seen as indicative estimates based upon ‘real’ data of roughly 30 to 50 per cent of the sector. These estimates confirm the extraordinary role of the associative sector in Mannheim and Aalborg. Membership rates encompass the entire population more than twice, i.e. 227 per cent of Mannheim inhabitants and 232 per cent of the Aalborg population are a member of a voluntary organization: an individual membership rate of 2.3 organizations. These cities are closely followed by Bern with 202 per cent of its population: i.e. two memberships per inhabitant. Moreover, one should note that that these estimates are calculated on the basis of the entire population, including babies and the elderly. Considering this, the estimates for the adult population in the voluntary sector are an underestimate. Our estimates also demonstrate civil society’s lesser penetration into the Enschede, Aberdeen and Sabadell populations: 113 per cent of the inhabitants of Sabadell are a member of a voluntary association, 124 per cent of the inhabitants of Aberdeen and 159 per cent of those living in Enschede, giving individual membership rates of 1.1, 1.2 and 1.6, respectively. The most interesting result of this experiment is that despite very different civil society structures, size and inner-organizational involvement patterns, the variations lead to very similar outcomes in terms of the diffusion of activism and volunteering amongst the city population. In other words, civil society’s penetration of the local citizenry – in terms of activism – is surprisingly similar across cities, with Sabadell being somewhat of an outlier. Of course, there are differences regarding the percentage of the population that is actively engaged in the associational world, with Aalborg being the most successful in generating an active citizenry (closely followed by Mannheim and Bern), and Enschede and Aberdeen less so. However, compared to the substantial variations we found in relation to sector size, involvement patterns, and membership, the differences are no longer particularly striking. Moreover, the dissimilarities evaporated with regard to volunteering. In all cities, roughly 30 per cent of the total population do volunteer work. This final experiment also reveals the unique position of Sabadell where (except for membership which is not much below the Aberdeen figure) active engagement concerns only a minority of the population (9 per cent in the case of volunteering and a small majority of 53 per cent in the case of activism). Moreover, the low associative penetration of the Spanish city is evident in almost all categories of involvement. There is a strikingly low density of the sector as such. However, the fewer organizations have a massive membership base (equalled or topped only by Aalborg and Bern) but mechanisms of innerorganizational recruitment are underdeveloped. In the Spanish city there is no culture of volunteering.

48 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher Table 3.4 General patterns of involvement in organizations

N of groups Members Active members Volunteers






Aalborg Number of organizations per 1,000 inhabitants: 12.6 Group response Estimates 1,023 2,031 Participant N Participant N by group N* by total group N** 185 189,255 375,735 106 108,438 215,286 26 26,598 52,806

Per cent of population 232 133 33

Aberdeen Number of organizations per 1,000 inhabitants: 8.9 Group response Estimates 497 1,907 Participant N Participant N by group N by total group N 138 68,586 263,166 90 44,730 171,630 34 16,898 64,838


Bern Number of organizations per 1,000 inhabitants: 9.7 Group response Estimates 665 1,198 Participant N Participant N by group N by total N 206 136,990 246,788 111 73,815 132,978 26 17,290 31,148


Enschede Number of organizations per 1,000 inhabitants: 11.0 Group response Estimates 822 1,658 Participant N Participant N by group N by total group N 144 118,368 238,752 74 60,828 122,692 33 27,126 54,714


Mannheim Number of organizations per 1,000 inhabitants: 15.6 Group response Estimates 1,618 5,002 Participant N Participant N by group N by total group N 145 234,610 725,290 66 106,788 330,132 17 27,506 85,034


Sabadell Number of organizations per 1,000 inhabitants: 6.1 Group response Estimates 360 1,129 Participant N Participant N by group N by estimated group N 185 66,600 208,865 87 31,320 98,223 14 5,040 15,806


Notes * These are actual results from multiplying mean participation rates with the number of groups who responded to our survey. ** These are estimates based upon multiplying mean participation rates of the groups who responded to our survey with the total number of groups mapped (i.e. including the nonresponse fraction of associative sector).

The associational universe in Europe 49 Taking the case of Sabadell aside, our suspicion is confirmed: there is more than one avenue for the generation of social capital. Some, like Mannheim, create a giant associative sector populated by numerous associations of all kinds. However, this large beast appears not to be particularly efficient in turning passive involvement active. Others, such as Aberdeen, satisfy themselves with a relatively modest associative sector. However, Aberdeen associations compensate for this lack of quantity by efficiently activating a larger proportion of members from their recruitment pool.

Conclusions From a methodological perspective these results caution against relying on a single indicator. Looking for density and numbers of association as an indicator of a healthy civil society would have ‘misled’ us to valorize the associative universe in Mannheim as coming closest to the ‘ideal type’. Focusing on involvement patterns would have drawn us towards advocacy of the Aberdeen structure because of its unmatched capacity to turn passive members active. Both conclusions would have been injudicious. The reality is that a vibrant civil society is likely to emerge through a mixture of these features. In short, there is more than one route to civic vibrancy. There is a further methodological conclusion, related to the one above, which can be drawn from these first pieces of evidence. In most comparative studies on social participation, Germany holds an intermediate position, far behind the associative champions from the Scandinavian countries, but way ahead of Southern or Eastern European countries. However, these results are based on individual micro-data. The organizational data in this chapter mirrors some of these findings – in Mannheim, average membership figures are not overly impressive and the activism numbers see it below Sabadell. If we examine the data on volunteering, only Sabadell produces lower average participation rates and both cities are clearly way behind the rest of the countries in the sample. Survey research focuses precisely on individual engagement figures and as such only uncovers part of the story. In Mannheim lacking (or below-average) individual involvement in groups is compensated by high civil society density, i.e. a huge (and unmatched) supply of organizations. In short, civic engagement has two sides: the individual participant, and the group which supplies opportunities for participation. Robust conclusion drawing about the vibrancy of associative life can only emerge from analyses of both sides of the participation coin. These methodological issues lead to the substantial conclusion of this first empirical chapter. Comparing the features of the civil society sector in six cities we did not encounter the ideal type: a combination of high density with a highly efficient inner-organizational involvement pattern.

50 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher Aalborg minus some ‘deficiencies’ (most notably in the areas of volunteering) comes closest. Why? Before attempting to explain this we should raise one final caveat. There may, of course, be an archetypal case somewhere outside the scope of this analysis. However, on the basis of these data an alternative explanation might be that there is a latent maximum – a ceiling effect – beyond which further sector growth becomes difficult. It could be that in each community there is a ‘limited’ proportion of the population eager and willing to engage in associative life. The relative similarity of our cities concerning volunteering and activism might signal that we have identified the maximum size of this predisposed pool. More interestingly, however, is the question of why our cities follow different paths to reach similar destinations. Why opt for many associations, if you could improve involvement patterns? Why develop a high capacity for turning passive involvement active, if you could opt for higher numbers of associations? Clearly such a choice is not open: in this respect the associational world may be stuck in a groove. Some locales opt for inner-organizational structures because there is no way to increase the numbers of associations, while in other areas associative density needs to be kept high, because involvement patterns cannot be improved. At this point in the analyses we remain a fair distance from understanding why. However, it is clear that involvement patterns vary significantly across cities and sectors. But why are some more efficient than others? The succeeding chapters of this volume attempt to shed some light on this important question.

Notes 1 The moral of the Making Democracy Work tale is that democratic and effective governance and associational life are mutually intertwined and mutually dependent. Warren (2001a: 6) argues Putnam (2000) is quite clear that there are positive and negative externalities from social capital. However, he mainly accentuates the positive. 2 Others such as Drucker (1989) have valorized the growth in the nonprofit sector, while Warren (2001a: 10) points out that the (US) Nonprofit Almanac lists 156,133 tax-exempt organizations, excluding religious organizations for 1995. 3 The replacement (tertiary) vehicles are less numerous and while they have mass members/supporters the experience of membership is much degraded from that offered by their secondary counterparts. In general, tertiary groups do not offer opportunities for involvement and there is no face-to-face contact between members/supporters so crucial for social capitalists. Participation is limited to signing a cheque and there are no ties to other members/supporters, simply ties to common symbols. 4 While we do not have data to place the current numbers in historical perspective, nevertheless the data is indicative. Clearly the number of associations is only one – and arguably not the best – indicator of civic vitality. 5 In the organizational questionnaire we asked how many members there were, and how many were active, or doing volunteer work, etc. Respondents had several categories to choose from (none, less than five, five to nine, ten to 29, 30 to 49, 50 to 99, 100 to 499, 500 and more). Moreover, we asked for numbers of

The associational universe in Europe 51 volunteers with less than three hours, and volunteers with more than three hours work per week. However, we now want to have one measure for volunteering. As a consequence, the construction of a simple additive measurement resulted in distorted numbers, e.g. an association that claims to have ten to 29 full-time volunteers (category 4) and 30 to 49 part-time volunteers (category 5) would reach the additive value of 9. However, the same would be true for an association with more than 500 full-time volunteers (category 8) and no parttime volunteers (category 1). As a result we would treat two very different associations (one with a maximum of 78 volunteers, the other with 500 plus) as equivalent. In order to overcome this problem of uneven distance between categories, we assigned each association a new value that is the natural mid-point of the categorical range (i.e. respondents ticking the box ten to 29 became the value of 20 assigned, the category 30 to 49 was counted as 40, etc.). In the case of our two example associations, the additive index of volunteering would now result in a value of 60 in the case of the first association (categories 4 and 5) and 501 in the case of the second – i.e. mirror real size differences between these two associations. Details of the construction of the measurements of participation are available on the website of the CID network (www.mzes.uni-mannheim.de/ projekte/cid/). 6 According to the Dutch team who collected the data, this particularity fully explains the high figures in Enschede.

4

Assessing the significance of associational concerns Leisure, politics and markets William A. Maloney and Sigrid Roßteutscher

Introduction Associations can be large or small; rich or poor; paragons of direct democracy or dominated by an unelected autocratic chair; their primary concern may be serving the ‘sectional’ interests or needs of members or they may seek to ‘promote’ or defend collective causes or alleviate the plight of others (via advocacy or service delivery); they may have good access to – or be dependent – on public money, or have to rely solely on income from private sources etc. In short, the associational beast is truly multifaceted. Accordingly, much academic research and literature has (rightly and properly) been devoted to examining the various aspects of associational structures, activities and outputs. However, in addition to investigating the diversity of such organizational features, it is also crucial to explore an organization’s prime concern: its main thematic orientation. If (mobilized) citizens are asked about the types of organizations they are members of, they are unlikely to respond by saying that it is an internally democratically pure or oligarchically-run group, or that it is heavily dependent on government funding or relies wholly on private income. The more probable answer would be a soccer or tennis club, religious congregation, or a bird-watching group etc.1 The principal reason for joining is an interest in the core organizational activity. However, the argument is not that potential joiners and members do not care about other organizational features. They might prefer: the intimacy of small clubs over large ones, or a democratically structured organization as opposed to one dominated by an unelected oligarchy. However, it is highly likely that – initially at least – these will be ‘second-order’ preferences. Individuals will choose according to their interests or concerns. Following this selection there are two basic modus operandi: (i) after deciding that they would like to, say, play chess in a club, they might examine the (local) universe of chess groups (in the cases where more than one exists) and choose the association that most clearly represents their organizational preferences; or (ii) if such information is difficult to gather from the ‘outside’, they may engage in the process Rothenberg (1992)

The significance of associational concerns

53

labels as ‘experiential search’. He maintains that for many individuals the initial joining decision is simply ‘testing before final purchase’: i.e. individuals take the decision to join as part of a deliberate learning process – ‘members join groups to learn about them’ and to ‘acquire knowledge’. On the basis of this knowledge they decide on exit, voice or loyalty (Hirschman 1970). This chapter takes the ‘main’ thematic concerns of organizations as its datum and has three objectives. First, to provide some basic information about the range, diversity and intensity of issue concerns and sectorial activities, and the general profiles of associations: what are the dominant concerns? What and where are the differences or similarities looking across different European cities? Second, it explores the relationship between associative concerns and participatory outputs. Third, it outlines the construction of a theoretically informed and empirically derived core taxonomy of issue concerns that provides a robust foundation for subsequent comparative analyses. The chapter (and to a certain extent the entire volume) rests on the assumption that sports or music associations might differ significantly from charity groups or business organizations. Variations might emerge for several reasons, including the fact that different organizations might: attract different types of joiners; generate disparate types of social capital – bridging or bonding – or generate ‘positive’ or ‘negative’ externalities; choose dissimilar organizational structures; and ultimately have a differential impact on social integration or the functioning of contemporary democracy. In short, the substance of organizational activity matters!2

Civil society perspectives on the associational universe Chapter 3 demonstrated that the size of civil society is a crucial startingpoint for any detailed examination of associational life. It also showed that the size of civil society varied significantly across comparable European cities – i.e. locales that shared many core socio-economic characteristics (also see Chapter 2) – and suggested that sector size might have direct democratic effects for two main reasons. First, an abundance of associations in a local environment may engender competition for potential members. Such rivalry might then positively impact on associations’ democratic structure and increase leaders’ responsiveness to grassroots demands driven by the fear of exit. Second, the high numbers of associations in a locale increases civic vibrancy simply because associations are easy to reach and the costs for joining (i.e. travelling, time) are low. While density and size provide us with a relatively clear picture, the image, however, is still not fully in-focus: both the range and depth of civil society concerns across sectors is missing. For example, a city that possessed a dense web of associations could be valorized on this dimension alone. However, if a large fraction of this associational universe was simply concerned with sport activities (playing football, rugby, badminton or baseball

54 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher etc.) or singing in choirs, and representing disabled interests or caring for children was scantly (or not at all) catered for, then such a ‘civil society’ is clearly deficient in terms of representing the broad tapestry of citizens’ concerns and interests. In other words, a dense civil society that does not reflect the major concerns of all its citizenry is as equally democratically deficient as one that is small and thin. Arguably the optimal associational universe is one that is dense and diverse. To what extent is any given civil society complete? To what extent does it sufficiently represent the interests and concerns of the citizens? We can only categorically answer such questions if we asked the citizens in a specific locale about their prime concerns and interests, and compare this individual interest profile with the range of concerns covered in the relevant associational universe. Unfortunately, this kind of data is not available. However, an alternative strategy would be to generate as detailed as possible information on associative concerns, and to find a theoretical and/or heuristic device to evaluate whether this range of potential concerns sufficiently represents the interests and concerns that exist in a local civil society. In order to address the first issue, we designed a questionnaire that included 37 different concerns.3 For the second part of our strategy we opted for the most obvious and handy solution: civil society theories. While selecting this neat solution was easy, implementing it was not unproblematic: because theoretical approaches provide no clear indication of the issues and themes that should be ‘represented’ in a fully inclusive democratic civil-society. The dominance of normative concerns in civil society theorizing leads to a diversity of approaches and disputes over many issues. For example: the role of civil society in the broader context of democratic theory; and the precise boundaries of civil society – i.e. what should legitimately be ‘included’ or ‘excluded’ – is a divisive issue. The traditional perspective of civil society (Hegel and Marx) was a synonym for bourgeoisie society (bürgerliche Gesellschaft) – i.e. a sphere of society distinct from both private lives and state administration or political power, but including the market and economic life (see Klein 2001: 295ff). To a certain extent this inclusive vision was a response to the reality of the absolutist state where ‘civilness’ was anything detached from the unrestricted powers of state administration. This conceptualization has survived in some egalitarian-communitarian (e.g. Walzer 2002) and liberal (e.g. Lomasky 2002) visions of civil society.4 Conceptual approaches predicated on the crucial criteria of voluntarism perceive civil society as anything that is non-state and non-family. For example, Walzer argues that: Between these two, autonomous individuals form a multitude of associations and freely move from one group to another or form activist membership to peripheral passivity, and back again, as they


55

choose . . . They are motivated by interest or conviction or by cultural or religious identity; they pursue wealth (in partnerships and companies), or power (in parties and movements), or salvation (in churches and gathered congregations); or they aim to advance some particular good (in interest groups or trade unions), or to deliver some general benefits (in philanthropies and foundations), or to ward off some general evil (in organizations for the prevention of this or that). Civil society makes room for all these aims and includes the resulting associations, by virtue of their free and consensual character. This means that it reaches to politics and economic as well as to the multitude of social activities distinct from these two. (Walzer 2002: 35) This is the broadest contemporaneous definition of the boundaries of civil society. However, most approaches position civil society in a sphere that is equally detached from: the private concerns of autonomous individuals; the public sphere of political decision-making and administrative action; and the forces of markets and labour relations (e.g. Cohen and Arato 1992, Habermas 1992). As Klein notes, ‘the dualism of state and bourgeoisie society had been substituted by the tripartism of state, market and civil society’ (Klein 2001: 24, own translation). In ‘its characteristically modern meaning’, civil society is separate and distinct from both ‘the coerciveness of state power’ and ‘the amoral fragmentation of market relations’ (Phillips 2002: 73, 76).5 The exclusion of the market rests mainly on its negative reputation in critical and deliberative theory which ‘fears’ that the exchange mechanism of the market, based upon uneven purchasing power, undermines civic virtuousness and the communicative structure of the ‘lifeworld’. Consequently, the defining criterion for inclusion is no longer voluntarism (which would include many market phenomena) but rational communication between equals (Habermas 1992, see also Chambers 2002: 93). Moreover, there is a further and significant restriction of civil society’s range in the deliberative, communicative or direct democracy tradition that stresses the political nature of civil society.6 This perspective highlights its achievements in terms of both mediation between politics and society, and influencing political decision-making. Accordingly, many authors tend to emphasize the democratically beneficial role of political actors and new social movements. However, the largest segment of civil society actors – associations concerned with leisure pursuits – are excluded (or ignored) (e.g. Diamond 1996, Cohen and Arato 1992, Habermas 1992, Lauth and Merkel 1997, see also Klein 2001: 326ff). For instance, Diamond (1996: 229) argues that civil society, ‘is concerned with public rather than private ends . . . [and] relates to the state in some way but does not aim to win formal power of office in the state’.7 Similarly, Cohen and Rogers ‘deliberative-democratic perspective’ (Klein 2001: 303)

56 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher denotes a key position to movement actors in shaping a kind of rationaluniversal political identity (Cohen and Arato 1992: 113). Referring to Habermas (1992), Chambers (2002: 98) differentiates between ‘users’ of the public sphere and its ‘creators’. Only the latter are seen as being ‘interested in expanding democracy’. Habermas describes the core of civil society as those associations which publicly institutionalize ‘problemsolving discourses about issues of general interest’: Der Kern der Zivilgesellschaft bildet ein Assoziationswesen, das problemlösende Diskurse zu Fragen allgemeinen Interesses im Rahmen veranstalteter Öffentlichkeiten institutionalisiert. (Habermas 1992: 443) Despite disagreements over civil society boundaries, most theorists concur on several basic tenets. First, it protects otherwise atomized and ‘helpless’ individuals from both the potentially brutal aspects of market forces8 and the unchained claims and demands of political power. It also permits, and organizes, influence on both the operation of markets and the decisions of governments. In other words, civil society has a protective/integrative (Joas 1990; Wiesenthal 1989) and activating/mobilizing face (Klein 2001; Linz and Stephan 1996). Both functions could not be fulfilled if civil society was not populated by collective action. Second, civil society is located in the public sphere – decidedly beyond the realm of individual conduct and the family concerns of the domestic sphere.9 Third, civil society’s most significant actor is the voluntary association, i.e. a publicly visible locus of interaction.10 As Walzer (2002: 35) argues, ‘there is no liberal theory of civil society that is distinct from the theory of voluntary association’. To summarize, although civil society theories tend to agree about several core issues – its functions, public nature and the pivotality of voluntary associations – there remains major disagreements about its precise parameters: i.e. when is civil society complete? Wide conceptions view civil society as complete when it encompasses a multitude of different actors, including business enterprises, political parties and other semi-institutionalized agents of state power. Narrow versions perceive it as all-embracing as soon as there are plural political associations, capable of entertaining a critical and deliberative public discourse. Thus, while civil society theories do not provide a categorical answer: the richness of our data permits an evaluation of the empirical scope of all these diverging conceptions. Therefore, we begin with the broadest conception, i.e. the extension into the political, economic and social arenas (Walzer 2002). For purely pragmatic reasons, we exclude one kind of activity that Walzer (and liberal theorists generally) maintain is an important component of civil-society building: economic and business activities solely concerned with profit-making – i.e. the bürgerliche Gesellschaft. This ‘exclusion’ is unavoidable because of our common


57

research design that – in the tradition of third-sector approaches – deliberately gathered information on the voluntary sector (and not profitmaking organizations).11 Accordingly, we perceive political associations (parties, movements, citizen initiatives, etc.) as a part of the civil-society sphere as long as they operate on a voluntary basis and are structurally distinct from government and administrative agents. Likewise, we consider economic associations (business and professional associations, unions, etc.) as a part of civil society as long as they operate on a voluntary basis and their action is not directly targeted at profit-making. Consequently, this conception of civil society has a triangular face – it is not state, not market, not family, but stretches into all three domains – and implies (and/or permits) a sub-division of civil society into three core sectors. First, a social or leisure sector where individuals primarily unite around some common private (i.e. non-political and non-economic) theme of interest. This is the segment of civil society that is highly valorized by neoTocquevillian scholars, most notably Robert Putnam (1993, 2000) (see Chapter 1). Second, a politics sector that is comprised of individuals combining in pursuit of their shared political attitudes or concerns – i.e. nonprivate, non-economic: the political society as advocated by theorists in the deliberative and Republican tradition. Third, an economic or market sector in which the core concern revolves around economic (i.e. nonprivate and non-political) interests. While this last sector is excluded by the majority of contemporary approaches, most scholars acknowledge that there are important links between the realms of civil society and economy. However, the nature of this link is often not clearly elaborated (for a critique, see Klein 2001: 124–5).12 All three components of the public sphere are equally detached from the private concerns of the domestic sphere. In other words, the tripartite face of the public sphere is embedded into the dualism of the public–private divide. In a decidedly anti-Republican manner, we also insist that there have to be linkages between civil society and both the state and the market. This is the case because without such links civil society could not fulfil one of its two functions: to mobilize and activate influence on state-market mechanisms.13 In other words, if a civil society was purely leisure orientated, i.e. lacking associations with a political or market focus, its impact on political and economic decision-making would be negligible. ‘Ideally’ civil society should be dense, diverse and richly represented in all three sectors – leisure, politics and markets. Figure 4.1 provides a graphical illustration of the location of civil society. Although all three sectors have an integrative impact because they unite individuals around a common theme of interest, hypothetically social integration is the key by-product of the social and leisure sectors. Representation, mediation and mobilization – important ‘pluralist’ associative functions – should be prime concerns of associations within the political (and market) sector(s) of civil society.14

58 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher

State-decision-making/ administration

Politics sector Private or domestic sphere

Private lives/ individual

Civil society Leisure sector

Market sector

Public sphere

Market/ economy

Figure 4.1 Civil society: collective action between private lives, politics and markets.

Range and diversity of associative life in European cities While theoretical deliberations do not generate neat and tidy solutions, this messiness is far overshadowed by empirical analysis. In the ‘real’ world of associations there are numerous discrete ‘core’ issue concerns (and a bewildering combination of core and supplementary concerns). Individuals join associations to: play football or chess; pray; sing in choirs; save whales; collect garbage from the local playground; fight for better working terms and conditions; provide support for a mutual problem or disease; and organize pre- and after-school care for their kids etc. In order to reflect the full diversity of the associative universe, we asked organizations their issue concerns from a list of 37 areas. Table 4.1 shows the full list in six European cities and ranks them in decreasing order – from the most frequently cited to the least based upon the combined data of all six cities (last column of the table). It is no surprise that associations are active in a wide number of areas, or that the dominant activities revolve around leisure and welfare: ‘Children/Youth’, ‘Education’, ‘Sports’, ‘Culture/Music’, ‘Charity/Welfare’, ‘Pensioners/Disability’, ‘Health’, and ‘Hobbies’. However, there are interesting variations between our cities: Aberdeen groups appear to have a particularly strong focus on the welfare side (38 per cent mention welfare as one of their issues), while in Aalborg this sector is sparsely populated (8 per cent). Sabadell’s associations are champions of leisure activities, 40 per cent mention culture/music, 24 per cent sports and another 28 per cent are hobby organizations. Bern has a stronghold in the traditional area of culture and music associations (30 per cent) and the health sector (28 per cent). While in Mannheim and Enschede associations are more evenly divided between the top ten issue concerns. Turning from some of


59

Table 4.1 Issue concerns in European cities Aalborg Issue concerns: Children/youth Education Sports Culture/music Charity/welfare Pensioners/ elderly Health Hobbies Family Disability Religious activities Parents Community development Women Ethnic concerns Environment Employment/ training Politics Poverty Child care Housing Humanitarian aid Human rights Research Peace Economic development Professional relations Business relations Labour relations Consumer interests Animal rights Lodges Veteran/war victims Social contacts Crime Local social politics Other Total no. of cases

Aberdeen

Bern

Enschede

Mannheim

Sabadell

Total

Mentioned as one important concern amongst others (%) 26.3 39.4 29.0 18.4 38.0 19.4 15.9 34.4 28.9 13.9 29.4 31.9 21.1 23.1 29.6 28.6 20.7 24.4 14.7 15.1 30.1 22.0 26.6 40.3 8.3 38.2 19.8 22.0 20.1 16.1 16.8 24.9 20.2 17.5 20.5 17.8

30.0 24.8 24.0 23.9 19.5 19.5

9.5 22.6 7.7 9.0 5.5 6.5 12.0

26.0 13.3 19.9 24.7 18.3 20.7 16.9

27.7 18.0 19.8 11.7 8.3 12.5 12.2

13.5 11.3 6.3 11.8 10.2 8.8 10.2

19.5 11.3 16.7 13.0 17.7 15.4 7.9

14.7 27.8 14.4 11.4 17.5 11.4 8.9

17.8 15.9 13.8 12.9 12.8 12.4 10.8

4.5 3.9 7.3 2.2

15.3 6.8 8.7 12.7

17.7 16.2 13.5 14.4

6.7 10.9 6.1 8.3

12.2 12.5 10.8 11.3

11.1 10.0 13.1 11.4

10.7 10.3 9.7 9.5

6.7 12.8 4.1 7.0 5.3 1.8 1.8 1.9 1.7

5.6 12.1 17.1 8.0 7.2 8.5 7.2 5.2 5.2

15.0 7.4 10.7 9.3 6.5 8.0 6.9 4.8 4.2

4.5 4.9 3.4 7.9 5.6 4.0 5.6 3.2 4.7

12.0 8.5 10.3 9.1 9.3 6.1 5.7 6.2 6.9

6.7 10.0 8.1 5.0 15.3 12.5 4.7 12.5 6.1

9.1 9.1 8.4 8.2 7.7 5.8 5.2 5.0 4.9

2.9

4.0

5.1

3.3

5.3

6.1

4.4

3.5 4.5 3.0

4.2 2.4 3.4

2.1 3.8 4.4

4.3 2.9 3.0

3.3 4.1 2.5

5.8 2.5 5.3

3.7 3.7 3.3

2.0 0.6

2.2 0.2

3.0 2.9

1.5 2.3

2.9 0.5

1.7 4.7

2.3 1.4

1.9

3.2

4.5

1.3

1.7

–

*

– 0.9 –

– 5.8 –

– 3.3 –

25.2 – –

23.6 3.6 7.6

– 3.3 –

* * *

9.4

10.9

–

18.7

13.1

10.0

*

1,023

497

665

822

1,618

360

4,985

Notes – Item not included in questionnaire. * No total mean value calculated because item has not been included in all questionnaires.

60 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher ‘the most popular’ to the least popular concerns there are some counterintuitive findings. ‘New politics’ and ‘new social movement’ concerns (i.e. the environment, animal rights, peace, humanitarian aid, women and human rights) in all cities appear not to be as salient as might have been hypothesized – especially given the surfeit of academic research in these areas. In no country do they make it into the top ten sectorial activities. The same is true for traditional concerns of economic interest representation. However, while associations have a diversified range of interests not all mirror ‘their’ core concern. A sports association, for example, might report that the width of its interests range from children/youth and hobby to education. However, none of these issues are the core concern. Table 4.2 shows the ‘core business’ of the associational universe and the similarities are striking.15 Everywhere except Sabadell ‘Sports’ is the most important activity (it is ranked second in Sabadell). In all cities (except Sabadell) the lead of sports concerns is impressive, partly being mentioned more than three times as often than the second ranked issue (Aalborg and Aberdeen). ‘Culture/Music’ is ranked second in Bern, Enschede and Mannheim (the most important activity in Sabadell); and ‘Religion’ occupies the third rank in Enschede, Mannheim and Sabadell (second in Aberdeen). Focusing on the core concerns produces a different picture to that generated by the width of interests. For example, in Table 4.1 religion was outside the top ten. However, as a core concern religion is ranked among the top four (second in Aberdeen, third in Enschede, Mannheim and Sabadell). Alternatively, while 40 per cent of Mannheim associations indicated that children/youth was one of their concerns, only 6 per cent claimed it was ‘most important’. Similar patterns are evident in all cities. The implication of this is clear: some concerns are (largely) by-products of the core: e.g. concern for children and youth. However, if an association indicates that ‘Religion’, ‘Sports’, ‘Culture/Music’ or ‘Business/ Labour/Professional Relations’ are among its interests then the chances are much higher that these are core issues. In summary, Enschede and Sabadell are leisure dominated with ‘Sports’, ‘Culture/Music’ and ‘Hobbies’ totalling over two-fifths of the most important concern responses in Enschede, over one-third in Sabadell, just under one-third in Aalborg and only around one-fifth in Aberdeen, Bern and Mannheim. In Aberdeen welfare issues are very important: ‘Charity/Welfare’, ‘Health’, ‘Disability’, cumulatively represent 15 per cent of the most important concern scores – nowhere else score anywhere near that figure on these issues. Given the changing political environment of the last 30 years or so in the UK – i.e. the erosion of local government powers, the transferral of traditional service functions such as housing, and the shift to a more enabling role rather than direct provider in many social service areas (Stoker 1997; Taylor 1997) – it is hardly


61

Table 4.2 Issue concerns in European cities – most important concern Aalborg Issue concerns: Sports Culture/music Children/youth Religious activities Education Hobbies Health Pensioners/elderly Charity/welfare Disability Housing Community development Politics Women Business relations Labour relations Professional relations Environment Research Humanitarian aid Poverty Ethnic concerns Child care Family Employment/ training Parents Animal rights Human rights Economic development Consumer interests Lodges Peace

Aberdeen

Bern

Enschede

Mannheim

Mentioned as the most important concern (%) 16.1 14.3 14.9 22.1 11.6 5.2 4.0 6.3 15.5 8.7 8.6 8.9 3.2 3.8 6.4 2.2 11.5 3.2 5.8 6.8 2.4 6.0 4.7 2.9 5.6 8.6 1.6 2.1 3.0 1.6 1.1 4.8 3.6 3.4 4.4 5.5 4.4 0.8 3.2 2.9 0.9 5.2 1.8 4.1 1.9 1.2 5.0 0.9 2.9 1.9 5.6 0.6 0.5 2.3 1.4 1.3 1.4 3.5 3.9 1.3

Sabadell

Total

12.5 18.6 3.3 5.8 5.0 3.3 3.1 3.3 3.1 1.7 0.0 0.6

15.0 9.0 6.0 5.6 4.4 3.5 3.4 3.4 2.4 2.1 2.1 2.0

3.2 0.9 1.6 1.4 1.3 0.9 0.1 1.8 2.8 0.3 0.2 1.3 0.6

1.2 1.2 0.6 1.0 0.6 0.6 0.4 0.0 0.0 0.0 1.6 0.6 0.4

2.4 2.1 0.5 0.8 0.6 0.9 0.8 0.6 0.2 1.5 0.8 1.4 1.1

0.7 1.1 2.1 0.9 1.0 1.2 1.1 0.7 0.0 1.6 0.7 0.1 0.4

2.0 1.8 0.8 1.2 1.3 1.1 1.7 1.0 0.4 0.7 1.2 0.7 0.9

1.9 1.1 3.6 1.1 2.2 1.4 0.0 0.6 0.6 0.0 0.0 0.8 0.3

2.0 1.4 1.3 1.1 1.1 1.0 0.9 0.9 0.8 0.8 0.8 0.8 0.7

0.2 0.5 0.2 0.1

0.6 0.4 0.4 0.0

0.6 0.8 0.5 0.3

0.6 0.5 0.4 0.5

0.3 0.4 0.2 0.5

1.9 0.0 1.9 0.0

0.5 0.4 0.4 0.3

0.3 0.0 0.1

0.2 0.0 0.0

0.2 0.0 0.2

0.4 1.2 0.1

0.2 0.3 0.3

0.6 0.0 0.3

0.3 0.3 0.2

0.9 – 0.5 –

0.2 – 0.6 –

0.6 – 0.0 –

0.1 5.5 – –

0.2 2.1 0.1 0.4

– – 0.3 2.5

* * * *

12.2

4.6

7.8

6.2

11.3

1.4

6.9

More mentioned All equally important No information 10.2 given

4.2 1.8 9.5

30.5

0.0 0.0 0.0

6.6 2.4 5.4

17.2

*

665

822

1,618

360

4,985

Veteran/war victims Social contacts Crime Local social politics Other

Total no. of cases

1,023

Notes – Item not included in questionnaire. Not coded. * No mean value calculated because item has not been included/coded in all cities.

62 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher surprising that many voluntary and community organizations have assumed some of these responsibilities and extended their involvement into new areas of work. If Aberdeen provides a good illustration of the impact of public-policy decisions on the associative world, then Aalborg demonstrates how difficult it can be to alter the pattern of the state–voluntary sector relationship. The 1990s ushered in a ‘retro-era’ where the state sought to re-involve many voluntary associations in welfare provision. Local authorities have also contracted-out certain social service functions to the voluntary sector. For example, in 1998 the municipal administration in Aalborg supported 85 senior citizens and disabled persons associations, by 2000 the number rose to 135. The administration of social affairs and health services has also expanded its support to voluntary associations – from one million euro in 1997 to 1.4 million euro in 2000. Our findings show that the Danish state, and Aalborg municipality, have not been very successful with regard to this policy. The 3 per cent of associations with core welfare, health or disability concerns are a small fraction of Aalborg’s associative universe and is miniscule compared to the 16 per cent in Aberdeen.

Towards a sectorial taxonomy of associative activity There is a wide range of issue concerns in all European cities. However, we began this chapter by assuming that (theoretically) such concerns could be tidily sub-divided into the core sectors of civil society: leisure, politics and markets. On the basis of this civil society conception we could simply condense the list of 37 issue concerns – generated via our survey instrument – into three theoretical master boxes. However, given the richness of our data we decided to pursue an empirical strategy and to examine the degree of support that an empirical-based taxonomy provides for the trichotomized conception of civil society. The empirical taxonomy of organizational concerns was developed from the application of three data reduction and scaling procedures – principal component analyses and two versions of hierarchical cluster analyses16 – in order to establish stable groups or clusters of associative concerns. Analytically, the taxonomy is based upon the major issue concerns of organizations (Tables 4.1 and 4.2) and is predicated on the assumption (outlined in the introduction to this chapter) that associations in the leisure sector might differ systematically from associations in the market or politics sector of civil society. While factor analytical devices were based upon correlation between variables – i.e. correlations between the diverse concerns mentioned by associations – the cluster and scaling methods were based on the relationship between the sector that the organizations indicated as ‘the most important’ (illustrated in Table 4.2) and their various complementary activities (illustrated in Table 4.1). Subsequently, these last two methods apply this self-classification of organi-


63

zations as the baseline for finding associations between associations. In order to apply this distinction a new data matrix was constructed which plotted the most important (core) against all other (complementary) concerns. We aimed to overcome two crucial problems attached to standard datareduction techniques such as factor analysis by utilizing this new data matrix (for a more detailed discussion of this problem, see Roßteutscher and van Deth 2002: 2–5). First, (on the basis of the self-definition) organizations that are somehow concerned with, say, music and culture can be distinguished from those which indicate that music and culture is their core concern. Second, the grouping of associations is based on patterns of concerns – it considers the full range of potential complementary concerns and is no longer restricted to correlations between single ‘variables’. For example, we expect to detect similarities between music and sports associations not because both concerns are highly correlated (which is the assumption of principal component analysis), but because both types of organizations share similar patterns of complementary concerns: i.e. mention youth, children, or education. Subsequently, the three methods were applied to the organizational data of all six cities separately. The solutions suggested by the different methods applied are not identical, but the degree of overlap is surprisingly high. Rarely, if ever, do we find contradictory results. In fact, very similar numbers and types of concerns emerge across all methods and in all cities:17 i ii iii iv v vi vii

family and raising of children; leisure concerns; ‘old’, and/or ‘city’ politics; ‘new’ politics; general welfare; group specific welfare; traditional socio-economic interest representation.

Clearly, the key question is: can we use this comparison of different methods of data reduction for the construction of a meaningful taxonomy of voluntary associations? As there is no clear standard guide concerning ‘the’ proper method, we applied three discrete criteria to select common aspects of the various solutions: (i) stability across methods (used as a starting-point for the construction): only those dimensions or types of concerns are selected that are prevalent across all three analytical steps; (ii) unambiguity of cluster or group composition: items such as ‘youth’ were excluded from the taxonomy, because in some solutions it is part of the ‘family’-type, while in others it grouped together with certain leisure activities; and (iii) equivalence across cities: keeping dimensions or types that emerge in all cities, but permitting the composition of items to vary between cities. The result is a taxonomy of substantively equivalent types from non-identical items. Finding such a relatively stable solution and establishing equivalence

64 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher across the cities via different data reduction techniques was not unproblematic. However, considering the enormous amount of information (six times 37 single categories of associative concerns) that had to be analysed and structured, the endeavour turned out to be less difficult than one might have anticipated.18 The final composition of this taxonomy and the relative distribution of types across cities is presented in the Table 4.3, and represents the fuzzy empirical ‘real world’ that is (unhelpfully) not neat and tidy. Figure 4.2 documents the sector composition in various European cities from the empirical analyses and the application of our three core criteria (outlined above). Does this sectorial structure obtained through empirical analyses fit the trichotomized (theoretical) conception of civil society? At first sight, the results are not promising. Empirical analyses resulted not in three but nine diverse sectors of associative issue concerns. However, a second glance reveals that some of these nine sectors are sub-sectors of general concerns. The politics sector provides a good illustration. The issue area of politics neatly sub-divides into three different fields of political action: (i) ‘old’ politics – the traditional stronghold of party politics; (ii) ‘new’ politics – the movement and alternative component; and (iii) ‘city’ politics – exemplified by issues such as housing and community development (somewhat predictable, given that we have gathered information on locally based organizations). The sectorial sub-division within the politics sector squares very well with standard divisions in political action research (see van Deth 2003 for a contemporary review of political action research). All three components share the major objective of political organizations – to influence authoritative decision-making – and can be positioned in the angle of civil society which bridges individual concerns and claims with the administrative and democratic super-structure of the state. Whether the sub-division of the politics sector can be predicated solely on the nature of the concerns, or is manifest in different types of activities, organizational structures, government relationships etc. as well, will be investigated in more details in the subsequent chapters of this volume. Turning to the leisure sector, one caveat should be raised – the sector is divided into two obvious sub-categories: sports, and culture/music.19 We added, however, one type of concern that is not overtly leisure-based – family and child rearing. While most parents find raising children to be equally demanding and rewarding, they would probably not describe it as a leisure activity. Moreover, child-care and family matters are subject to various policies and parental status has a direct impact on the purchasing power and market position of the parent. Despite these links with other sectors, most European democracies – particularly those in the continental welfare state tradition (e.g. Germany and the Netherlands, see Esping-Andersen 1990) – pride themselves on protection of the family without ‘heavy-handed’ state intervention. Most ‘family care’ is conducted


Aalborg

65

Aberdeen

Bern

Enschede

Mannheim

Sabadell

Family Child care

Parents Child Care Family

Parents Child care

Parents Children Family Child Care

Parents Family

Sports Culture/ music






Politics 4. ‘City’ Concerns Housing

Housing

Community Housing

Community Housing

Community

5. Politics 6. ‘New’ politics concerns

Politics Human rights


Politics Ethnic concerns

Politics Human rights Ethnic Concerns

Community Local social politics Housing Politics Human rights Peace

Charity/ welfare Humanitarian aid Disability Elderly Health Business relations Professional relations

Charity/ welfare

Humanitarian Charity/ aid welfare Poverty

Disability Health

Disability Health

Charity/ Charity/ welfare welfare Humanitarian aid Poverty Disability Disability Health

Business relations Professional relations Economic development

Business relations Professional relations Economic development

Leisure 1. Family and the Parents upbringing of Family children

2. Leisure: ‘low’ 3. Leisure: ‘high’

Markets 7. General welfare concerns 8. Group-specific welfare concerns 9. Economic interest

Disability Elderly Health Business Business relations relations Professional Professional relations relations


Business relations Professional relations Consumer interests

Figure 4.2 A sectorial taxonomy – sector composition in European cities.

(without state interference) in the home during the non-work time of one parent. This is precisely the reason why all civil society authors (excepting some feminists, and partly also Walzer, in his egalitarian approach) view the domestic sphere as one of the firm boundaries of civil society. These boundaries, however, are crossed whenever individuals decide to bring their private family concerns into the public – by creating or joining an association. Accordingly, it seems most appropriate to position family affairs in the private/individual angle of the civil society space (see Figure 4.1).

66 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher Finally, the market sector of the civil society triangle is populated by socio-economic concerns of classic interest representation and two different types of welfare concerns. As was the case with family matters, the positioning of welfare issues in the market sector seems somewhat arbitrary. Are not all our societies modern and well-developed welfare states with government activity penetrating large aspects of the free market?20 On the other hand, a welfare association’s core concern is to protect its members/supporters/clients from the ‘power and injustices of market mechanisms’. Although charity groups might have close links to government agencies (see also Chapters 6 and 8 in this volume), their main ‘target’ is the protection, mobilization or support of disadvantaged segments of the population. In summary, the three sector portrayal of civil society appears under-complex. The nine different types or dimensions of issue concerns we found through empirical analyses can be subsumed under the three broad civil society headings. All three sectors – leisure, politics and market – are internally differentiated. In the remainder of this chapter we will examine whether this internal differentiation impacts on a sector’s mobilization capacity. Finally, the addition of religion to our taxonomy requires further explanation. The inclusion of religion contradicts the empirical scaling results and its ‘civil’ society position is a hotly debated topic (Roßteutscher 2006 forthcoming).21 From an empirical point, religion is a peculiar (and interesting) case: ‘wildly’ oscillating around the universe of associational activities. Some 282 organizations claim that religion was their most important concern. However, the factor and scaling analyses illustrated that there was no strong empirical basis for including religious organizations because the sectorial space occupied varied in each city. Most frequently it was evenly distributed across several dimensions. In the case of Mannheim, the solution obtained by principal component analyses gave religion an independent dimension, related equally strongly to concerns with charity/welfare, the elderly, and culture/music. One variant of cluster analyses (average linkage) recognizes a familiarity between religious concerns and education, youth and culture/music, while the second variant (complete linkage) clustered religion together with elderly and social contact-based activities. These apparent inconsistencies in the positioning of religious concerns reflect the fact that religion is a sub-unit of civil society that – to a very large extent – reproduces the diversity of civil society itself. Religious organizations in Mannheim can be welfare organizations (typically Diakonie or Caritas), they can be youth groups (such as YMCA), they can focus on ‘culture/music’ (church choirs) etc. This wide range of complementary concerns is the major cause of religion’s mutating position in the universe of associations. This pattern is replicated in all cities. Irrespective of this, the particularity of the religious sector justifies its treatment as an additional and independent type of organizational


67

concern. There are several reasons for this. First, the omnipresence of religious organizations presented us with an interesting conundrum. Second, there is an important literature that posits religious organizations within civil society concepts and provides the necessary theoretical justification for inclusion (e.g. Banner 2002; Wuthnow 1996). Third, the empirical investigations by Verba et al. (1995: 282–3) in the US found that religious institutions were an important generator of civic skills that promoted political involvement. Churches were credited as acting as effective and efficient ‘schools of democracy’ teaching transferable (civic and political) skills with a currency in the political game. In fact, Verba et al. (1995) argued that churches played an important role in helping to increase political equality. While high levels of educational attainment is seen as key, or in some senses, the catalytic component in the process of resource accumulation (facilitating motivation, capacity and advantageous positioning vis-à-vis networks of recruitment). Verba et al. (1995: 18) maintain that, ‘Only religious institutions provide a counterbalance to this cumulative resource process. They play an unusual role in the American participatory system by providing opportunities for the development of civic skills to those who would otherwise be resource-poor’. The religious component is included on the basis of these arguments. Before examining the sectorial structures across cities in depth. We should note that the taxonomy could be challenged on the grounds that it results in the sub-optimal use of available cases. Roughly two-thirds of all association that gave a valid response to the question about its most

Table 4.3 Sector representation in European cities Aalborg

Aberdeen

Leisure: Family Sports Culture/music Politics: ‘City’ concerns ‘Old’ politics ‘New’ politics Market: General welfare Group-specific welfare Economic interest

26.9 1.7 19.1 6.1 10.6 6.6 3.8 0.2 15.6 3.1 9.1 3.4

26.0 2.8 18.1 5.1 2.8 0.8 1.5 0.5 20.6 6.6 12.5 1.5

Religion Other concerns most important

2.7 44.2

Valid Total No valid info given

865 158

Bern

Enschede

Mannheim

Sabadell

38.7 4.4 24.1 10.2 12.6 6.3 3.9 2.4 11.4 1.2 8.5 1.7

40.3 1.4 22.9 16.0 9.2 6.4 0.8 2.0 14.3 3.9 6.7 3.7

35.6 8.3 15.6 11.7 7.6 4.2 2.7 0.7 16.4 4.4 8.5 3.5

41.0 3.4 15.1 22.5 5.3 0.7 2.3 2.3 13.4 3.7 2.0 7.7

14.5 36.1

5.1 32.0

6.0 30.2

9.2 31.2

7.0 33.2

393 104

410 255

794 28

1,202 416

298 62

68 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher important concern are included – i.e. the remaining third are outside the taxonomy.22 We do not perceive these exclusions to be highly problematic. The main aim of this taxonomy is to reduce and/or consolidate an abundance of information and to identify fewer dimensions that structure the civil society domain. The core research question of this volume is: does social participation enhance political participation? Is this the case for all types of associations? Or are specific organizational sectors or types better vehicles for participation than others? Empirically, one would tackle the main question on the basis of all available information. The subsidiary questions are a substantial specification of the core question. We are now interested in a differentiated and more focused analyses of the impact of specific associations and are no longer dependent on the entire range of available organizations. The taxonomy is perfectly well-equipped for this task: it provides a wide enough range of organizational concerns and a sufficient number of cases.

Sectorial types in cities Examining sectorial structures across cities we see that leisure, and sports hold the prime positions: i.e. exactly the areas where Putnam sees beneficial political and social externalities produced. This non-political and nonmarket orientation is most pronounced in Bern, Enschede and Sabadell where over 40 per cent of the universe are leisure associations. In comparison, Aberdeen and Aalborg’s sectors are more ‘serious’, only 26 per cent of their associations are leisure-orientated. Family and child raising concerns are large in the case of Mannheim and relatively marginal in other cities. Mannheim’s position might be explained by the very particular German (Catholic) welfare model that leaves family issues outside of state and welfare responsibility, and advocates a traditional division of labour within the family: a policy that engenders denser associational activity than in other European cities (see Chapter 2). In the politics sector, the traditional city concerns of housing and community development are represented by roughly 4 to 7 per cent of all associations – except for Aberdeen where such concerns have no representation in this sector. Similarly, politics organizations – ‘old’ and ‘new’ – occupy a marginal space in the voluntary sector of our cities. When the three categories in the politics sector (city concerns, new and old politics) are combined we find significant differences in political orientation. Aberdeen’s voluntary sector is not only the least ‘fun’ orientated, but also appears to be the most apolitical: less than 3 per cent focus primarily on political concerns. Bern has the most political sector, followed by Aalborg (13 and 11 per cent respectively). Aberdeen’s sector is most decisively skewed towards welfare concerns: almost 20 per cent of its associations have general or group-specific welfare as their major concern (nearly double the percentage in all the other cities). In Sabadell welfare


69

concerns are least important; only 6 per cent of the voluntary sector has this thematic concern. Thus in Aberdeen, the political link is weakest, the state and public administration are a target of group activities only in so far as the state is a distributive welfare state, regulating market mechanisms. In Aalborg and Bern the voluntary sector is politicized to a relatively high degree, quite a high number of associations seek the direct link to authoritative agencies – at least concerning their thematic orientation (Chapter 9 examines ‘real’ contacts between political incumbents and civil society). Unexpectedly, Mannheim’s voluntary sector is not the most ‘sacred’ – even though the religious divide and the subsequent abundance of parishes was advanced as an important part of the explanation for the general associational density in Mannheim (see Chapter 3). The religious sector’s share of 9 per cent is impressive, particularly when compared to Aalborg’s 3 per cent. However, the religious component is strongest in Aberdeen. This result is surprising if one considers that there are more of these organizations – in absolute and relative terms – in Mannheim than Aberdeen.23 This result points towards the survival of historical church structures in Mannheim, dating back to the period of strong religious divisions and the Catholic struggle for survival in a predominantly Protestant Bismarckian Reich (e.g. Mommsen 1993: 405ff, Besier 1998: 16ff, 107ff). Evidently, leaders and members of contemporary Mannheim church organizations have a more indifferent relationship to their religious host. In Germany church choirs or sports groups claim that their main concern is singing or sport activities, whereas in Aberdeen the religious objective would be cited as the prime concern. Further research will illustrate if belonging to diverse sectors or subsectors of civil society has an impact on the development of specific organizational traits (see Chapters 5 to 9) and associations’ mobilization capacity (see remainder of this chapter). In fact, in this respect the entire sectorial taxonomy awaits empirical scrutiny. Thus far it has simply proven to be a handy device: to structure and condense the numerous activities of the voluntary sector (generally in line with tripartite conceptions of civil society); and facilitate the identification of differences and similarities across cities (beyond the distribution of single-issue concerns).

Sectorial types as participatory vehicles Looking at Tables 4.4a to 4.4e (which present mean values of group involvement per sector in each city) the first striking result is that in all cities, with regard to all forms of group involvement, there are large sectorial differences. Whether an association has many or few members, a culture of volunteering or not, a capacity or incapacity to turn members active is correlated to organizational type.24 In short, sector matters! In Sabadell the average member pool stretches from a minimum of 88 in the

70 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher case of ‘Group Specific Welfare’ concerns to 278 in the family sector (see Table 4.4a). These variations appear in all cities with a similar wide range of membership patterns. Looking at the number of activists in Aalborg (Table 4.4b), we find that activity patterns range from three activists per association (‘New Politics’ concerns) to a highly impressive average of 223 in the case of ‘sports’ groups. Turning to volunteering in Enschede (Table 4.4c), the sector with lowest average number is ‘Culture/Music’ with nine volunteers, and the largest is ‘Group Specific Welfare’ with an average of 67 volunteers. Similarly, there are huge sector relative differences in organizations’ capacity to turn members active (Table 4.4d). In Aalborg, the ‘Old Politics’ sector is not particularly efficient (mean value of 0.32), while sports associations reach the dizzy heights of 0.87 (on a scale that stretches to 1.0 – i.e. 87 per cent of members are turned active). The differences between sectors are striking and relate to all patterns of involvement in all areas. What picture emerges when we compare patterns across cities? Are there common features concerning participation in certain sectors? Are there clear differences not only between sectors in one city, but also between certain sectors across cities? Taking the family and child-raising sector as an example, we see that in Aalborg family concerns attract numbers of activists around the average. In Aberdeen family groups are large with many activists, while in Enschede, Mannheim and Sabadell these associations have relatively few active members. Typically in Mannheim, family groups are private kindergarten initiatives or church related crèche groups where the pool of activists and volunteers consists of the parents of the ten to 20 children in the group. However, the passive membership pool can be much larger because frequently parents remain members and continue to pay a modest yearly fee to support the group even after their children are no longer eligible to participate. The Enschede pattern is similar and the Netherlands can be placed within the same ‘continental’ or Catholic welfare regime that tends to privatize matters of family and child rearing. The same huge difference between large member pools and low numbers of activists is visible in the Spanish city, similarly part of Catholic welfare systems (e.g. Esping-Andersen 1990). The Danish and British regimes belong to very different welfare models and evidently family concerns in Aalborg and Aberdeen follow a different path with higher numbers of activists and presumably different concerns at stake. However, we also find sectors with very similar involvement patterns across cities. The sports sector provides the best example. In all cities, the leisure sector has the strongest mobilization potential: it possesses the largest (or one of the largest) membership pools, the largest number of activists and shows the best capacity to turn its members active. The exceptional position of the leisure sector within the civil society sphere is strengthened by its participatory outputs: leisure is the domain of the


71

Table 4.4a Involvement patterns in different sectors: total number of members (mean values) Aalborg

Aberdeen

Bern

Enschede

Mannheim

Sabadell

Leisure: Family Sports Culture/music Politics: ‘City’ concerns ‘Old’ Politics ‘New’ politics Market: General welfare Group-specific welfare Economic interest

220 163 256 118 106 58 194 58 219 165 205 307

139 154 159 66 91 26 147 48 131 107 137 178

226 117 246 224 214 209 313 72 198 138 189 285

150 153 211 62 129 100 241 146 134 85 177 109

171 95 226 152 137 148 146 30 156 119 134 252

193 278 217 163 220 188 235 215 183 175 88 208

Religion

100

228

321

173

124

89

Other most important All associations N total

181 185 989

127 138 471

228 207 665

142 144 817

119 145 1,596

220 185 344

Table 4.4b Involvement patterns in different sectors: number of activists (mean values)

Leisure: Family Sports Culture/music Politics: ‘City’ concerns ‘Old’ Politics ‘New’ politics Market: General welfare Group-specific welfare Economic interest Religion Other most important All associations N total

Aalborg

Aberdeen

Bern

Enschede

Mannheim

Sabadell

175 82 223 46 35 22 61 3 121 78 121 161

97 122 110 39 72 7 124 41 63 52 60 128

138 60 179 74 111 77 220 25 113 126 103 157

100 16 149 36 34 18 28 87 61 91 52 45

98 27 176 44 39 49 31 10 65 48 42 138

90 18 137 70 50 24 73 35 124 160 28 127

37

159

219

93

57

76

84 107 930

86 90 470

128 111 665

58 74 817

51 60 1,587

92 87 344

72 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher Table 4.4c Involvement patterns in different sectors: number of volunteers (mean values) Aalborg

Aberdeen

Bern

Enschede

Mannheim

Sabadell


29 13 36 13 17 9 31 5 44 48 31 70

22 112 12 7 7 0 2 23 45 39 35 136

26 17 31 19 32 29 50 12 21 14 22 17

29 16 43 9 13 14 8 14 46 28 67 34

19 11 24 17 9 9 10 9 18 37 9 17

8 4 6 11 24 2 2 53 10 7 1 14

Religion

18

56

104

53

18

22

23 26 860

30 34 431

24 26 665

33 33 817

14 18 1,589

16 14 344

Other most important All associations N Total

Table 4.4d Involvement patterns in different sectors: mobilizing activists from the membership pool (mean values)


Aalborg

Aberdeen

0.81 0.61 0.87 0.64 0.52 0.64 0.32 0.58 0.63 0.66 0.66 0.49

0.73 0.89 0.73 0.66 0.52 0.27 0.51 0.68 0.66 0.59 0.69 0.78

Bern 0.62 0.67 0.68 0.48 0.49 0.37 0.66 0.53 0.56 0.68 0.55 0.50

Enschede 0.72 0.46 0.70 0.77 0.43 0.38 0.27 0.69 0.53 0.72 0.34 0.60

Mannheim 0.59 0.46 0.75 0.47 0.46 0.49 0.41 0.45 0.50 0.55 0.43 0.59

Sabadell 0.56 0.26 0.61 0.58 0.38 0.11 0.59 0.32 0.68 0.89 0.63 0.59

Religion

0.67

0.78

0.62

0.54

0.72

0.65


0.59 0.65 919

0.73 0.71 431

0.56 0.54 615

0.52 0.60 684

0.54 0.55 1,453

0.50 0.56 338


73

Table 4.4e Involvement patterns in different sectors: mobilizing volunteers from the membership pool (mean values) Bern

Enschede

Mannheim Sabadell b

Aalborg

Aberdeen

Leisure: Family Sports Cultture/music Politics: ‘City’ concerns ‘Old’ Politics ‘New’ politics Market: General welfare Group-specific welfare Economic interest

0.18 0.21 0.16 0.21 0.31 0.40 0.17 0.10 0.24 0.52 0.18 0.15

0.22 0.56 0.17 0.26 0.16 a 0.03 0.42 0.34 0.39 0.33 0.19

0.17 0.35 0.14 0.16 0.22 0.16 0.17 0.50 0.26 0.16 0.32 0.09

0.26 0.43 0.19 0.35 0.39 0.41 0.22 0.42 0.44 0.54 0.50 0.26

0.19 0.30 0.13 0.20 0.26 0.30 0.16 0.43 0.27 0.44 0.24 0.17

0.11 0.03 0.07 0.16 0.11 0.01 0.04 0.21 0.18 0.38 0.04 0.12

Religion

0.42

0.25

0.33

0.35

0.36

0.13


0.23 0.23 849

0.29 0.28 417

0.19 0.21 625

0.35 0.33 765

0.31 0.27 1,494

0.19 0.17 342

Notes a No associations and/or no volunteers in this sector. Ratios cannot be computed. b The Spanish figures in the areas of politics and group specific welfare rest on very few cases in some of the sub-categories.

largest fraction of the universe of association and leisure associations are particularly large with many activists and high internal mobilization capacity. In contrast, our second representation of leisure concerns, the culture sector, consists of smaller groups (with Bern, and to a lesser extent Mannheim, being the exceptions), with fewer activists, and lower numbers of volunteers, both compared to sports associations and organizations in general. In all cities the politics sector makes an exceptionally modest contribution to participatory outputs and is ‘marginal’ in two respects. First, it has the fewest associations (particularly small in Aberdeen and Sabadell), and second, the fewest members, activists and volunteers. This confirms Walker’s (1991: 19) view that, ‘Most people, most of the time, are able to find better things to do than participate in politics’. However, there is one outlier: Bern. The Swiss city has the most politicized civil society, i.e. political associations possess a relatively large share of the local voluntary sector, and Bern’s political associations are large – in terms of members, activists and volunteers. This unique position is explained by one exceptional facet of the city: although all our cities are regional centres (in economic terms), only one is a regional and national capital – Bern. The local representation of state and cantonal governments and parliaments might account for both the high numbers of political associations, and the

74 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher mobilization capacity of political associations (i.e. members, activists and volunteers). This plausible explanation receives additional support from the fact that it is the sub-sector of ‘old’ politics – i.e. the realm of traditional party politics – that carries the largest part of the participatory outputs of Bern’s political sector (see Tables 4.4a to 4.4d). 25 There is something peculiar about the market sector. Although the relative size of this sector is not particularly impressive (dwarfed by leisure concerns, but larger than the politics) its welfare and economic associations are champions of volunteering. In many cities the market sector accounts for the highest number of volunteers (Aalborg, Aberdeen, Enschede) and demonstrates the best capacity to promote volunteering from the membership pool (Aberdeen, Bern, Enschede, Mannheim, Sabadell). In contrast, the leisure sector – which is dominant in terms of absolute size – shows rather limited volunteer promotion abilities. Notwithstanding this, it is important to note that the clear differences in the mobilization capacity of different sectors is – partly at least – caused by the particularity of ‘their’ components. For example, the large number of members in the leisure sector is largely due to the large number of sports associations. In contrast, the culture and music fraction of the leisure sector tend to be much smaller with fewer activists. Likewise, the modest nature of the politics sector is heavily influenced by the small size of the ‘new’ politics fraction, while associations in the ‘old’ politics subsector can be very large. The high variation within sectors, and the distinctiveness of a single sector, are often an expression of the particularities of the largest sub-sectorial component.26 Finally, religion requires some further discussion. Religious organizations in Aberdeen, Bern and Enschede are incredibly successful at producing large quantities of members, activists and volunteers. For instance, in Aberdeen religious organizations have a mean membership of 228: the average for all Aberdeen associations was 138. Turning to numbers of volunteers, religious organizations in Bern have 104 volunteers, while the average Bernese association has only 26! Surprisingly, the exceptional position of church organizations in Aberdeen, Bern and Enschede disappears when internal mobilization capacity is examined. It is Mannheim where, compared to all other sectors, religious organizations are most successful at turning (passive) members active. Can we offer an explanation for these stark contrasts between cities? There is one clear difference in the religious structures of Aberdeen, Bern, Enschede and the other cities: the nature of Protestantism. In the Netherlands, Scotland and Switzerland the Protestant church is predominantly Calvinist in nature (in the Netherlands, Protestantism is split between two variants of Calvinism). However, the non-Lutheran and nonstate church character of Protestantism had been used to explain the high participatory nature of American society (e.g. Wuthnow 1990, 1999, for the general thesis, see Weber 1904/2000). The other cities are either fully


75

Catholic (Sabadell), evenly split between Catholics and Lutherans (Mannheim) or more or less fully Lutheran (Aalborg). Our data seems to confirm that non-Lutheran Protestant ‘sects’ with their higher value on lay participation do indeed foster activity to a much higher degree than their (historical) state church counterparts, although the mechanism is unclear. According to the Weber’s argument, Protestant ‘sects’ should be small and such smallness should push their committed adherents into activism. Our data shows the reverse: in comparison to their Catholic and Lutheran counterparts, Calvinist groups are large.27

Conclusion In all associative ecologies a wide range of interests are represented. However, the dominant concern across the wide spectrum of associative activities is leisure: opportunities for citizens to collectively engage in activities around sports, hobbies, or culture are plentiful. Thus civil society is largely leisure-orientated and focuses mainly on the private concerns of the citizenry. The political arm of civil society – which is central in much of contemporary theorizing – is less well developed: it is numerically marginal compared to the market or leisure sectors. In all associative ecologies, this sector occupies the least space – although it is noteworthy that Lelieveldt and Caiani in Chapter 9 of this volume demonstrate that political activity is not restricted to associations with politics as their main concern. Relating these findings to the evidence in Chapter 3 demonstrates that the political sector thrives least well where civil society is not particularly dense (e.g. Sabadell and Aberdeen). In a crowded civil society populated by high numbers of associations per inhabitant (e.g. Aalborg, Mannheim or Enschede) the political sector appears more vibrant. This is true in relative and absolute terms. In high-density civil societies there also is high political density (in absolute terms of the numbers of political associations per inhabitant), and the political component occupies a larger share of the entire sector – i.e. it is relatively strong compared to the percentage share of the political sector in low density civil society. In short, political civil society flourishes in dense multi-faceted associative ecologies. Moreover, this chapter has also highlighted: the range and diversity of associational issue concerns; the major core concerns; and the almost incomprehensible permutations of core and supplementary concerns. In general, a not too dissimilar pattern emerges across all cities. Having documented the complexity of the associational universe we sought to reduce the data into a more parsimonious form by drawing on the three master theoretical boxes in the civil society tradition: leisure, politics and markets. From the diversity of 37 core concerns and the large number of non-core concerns we utilized date reduction and scaling techniques and developed a nine-fold sectorial taxonomy (with the addition of the

76 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher interesting case of religion). The taxonomy was used in this chapter to evaluate associations capacity to act as vehicles for participation and to assess if organizational sector mattered. On a number of participatory indicators examined (e.g. membership levels, the culture of volunteering, organizational efficiency in activating passive members) we found that sector mattered! The succeeding chapters draw on the sectorial taxonomy to assess to what extent ‘membership’ of diverse sectors or sub-sectors of civil society impacts on the development of specific organizational characteristics.

Notes 1 This pivotality of thematic concerns for potential joiners is the major reason why all survey research rests on a question that lists several areas (sports, culture, religion, etc.) and asks respondents to indicate if they are participants. 2 Chapters 5 to 9 will examine these assumptions in detail. 3 We started with a slightly shorter list and extended it in line with our pre-test findings. 4 Although both approaches share the broad definition of civil society, they differ significantly regarding the role of the state. While Walzer demands an active state that takes measures against inequality, liberal theorists such as Lomasky tend to insist on a minimal state, not touching the ‘naturalness’ of civil society (Chambers and Kymlicka 2002: 8). 5 We deliberately use the terms ‘separate’ and ‘distinct’ instead of ‘independent’. The assumption/normative claim of ‘independence’ that is often made (see e.g. Horch 1988, 1992, Lomasky 2002) is highly problematic largely because government action and legal requirements can have a significant impact on the size, range of interests and organizational structure of civil society. In short, the shape of civil society also depends on external conditions set by state actors, and/or market mechanisms. For example, Kaspersen (2002) illustrates how various Danish regimes and regulations have influenced Danish civil society over several centuries. 6 The emphasis on ‘political’ civil society has its roots in the (neo-)Republican tradition, most closely associated with the work of Arendt (1985). Herein, civil society is the ‘political society’ of virtuous citizens who freely debate political matters. As such righteous beings their minds are freed from private (i.e. egoistic) interests and their aim is the realization of the public good. From such a perspective, the social world (including the world of voluntary associations) is fuelled by private concerns and threatens the purity of political society: ‘Der Besitz bemächtigt sich der Öffentlichkeit in der Form des Interesses der besitzenden Klasse. Dies Interesse . . . ist aber selbst noch privater Natur, ganz gleich wie viele Menschen es miteinander teilen’ (Arendt 1985: 65, see Klein 2001: 344). In order to establish a virtuous political discourse, political opinion needs to be ‘disinterested’, i.e. liberated from ‘der Verstrickung in Privat- und Gruppeninteressen’ (Arendt 1987: 62). 7 The conceptual design that excludes political parties from any definition of civil society is common within this tradition. 8 By all authors who see the market as outside of the civil sphere. 9 This is why some feminist writers find the civil society concept problematic. From their perspective, it is a further sub-division of the male dominated public sphere: ‘the domestic subordination of women looms large, generating


10 11 12

13 14 15 16 17

18

19

20

21

77

a certain impatience with the finer details of who or what goes into civil society’ (Phillips 2002: 74). But in contrast to Third Sector approaches, independent of its degree of institutionalization, i.e. no matter whether such loci are formalized and officially registered as voluntary associations or not. See Chapter 2 for further details. Cohen and Arato (1992: 75–7) are an exception. For example, Arato (1989: 144) claims that: ‘The differentiation of modern economy and civil society should be seen as the beginning of the search for mediations between them, capable of abolishing the capitalist character of modern economics without giving up economic rationality itself’. The twin function of social integration and identity production could be easily (or maybe even more efficiently?) fulfilled without such links. Chapter 5 examines the empirical relationship between the substantive concerns of associations and organizational activities in more detail. We also asked all associations who mentioned multiple concerns to indicate their most important concern. The frequencies reported in Table 4.2 are based upon this follow-up question. An additional method – MDS – was used in the case of Mannheim. Space restrictions do not allow us to present the numerous empirical results of the multitude of analyses conducted (three methods by six cities). More detailed tables and figures can be requested from the authors. Those readers who are particularly interested in reading a full account of all four data reduction and scaling procedures (i.e. principal component analysis, two versions of hierarchical cluster analysis and MDS) should consult Roßteutscher and van Deth (2002). Most instability was caused by the differing number of cases in cities that indicated specific categories as being important. Several sectors had to be excluded from cluster and scaling analyses because none (or only one) of the associations mentioned a specific sector as ‘the most important’ concern. In the case of Aberdeen the concerns of poverty, ethnic concerns, economic development, peace, humanitarian aid, lodges, veterans and war victims, and consumer interests had to be excluded because no (or only one) association mentioned this concern as most important. In Enschede it was poverty, veterans and war victims, peace and family. In Sabadell this was ethnic concerns, economic development, research, housing, lodges, peace, employment and training. In Aalborg lodges, research, economic development and peace, and finally, in Bern crime, children, lodges, consumer interests and peace had to be excluded. Unavoidably, different scaling outcomes and discrete compositions of single clusters or groups were the result. Regarding the empirical analyses, there is some indication that both issues form one dimension. However, this one-dimensionality of the leisure sector is not confirmed by all methods in all cities. In particular, cluster analyses tend to differentiate between the ‘low’ culture activities of sports and the ‘high’ culture activities of music/culture associations often clustered together with the concerns of education and youth. This is one of the major critiques of civil society approaches that distinguish the political from the market sphere: none of these demarcations are empirically uncontested (Klein 2001: 87). Or, as Foley and Edwards (1996: 49) comment: ‘Sweeping, mutually exclusive ideal types like “political society” and “economic society”, the “public”, “private”, and “nonprofit” sectors, and even “civil society” itself are unlikely to capture the range of associational forms that prepare citizens to engage in collective action for mutual benefit’. The former Pope’s position was unequivocal: ‘The church does not belong to


22

23 24 25 26

27

civil society but to sacred society’ (Dekker and de Hart 2005, footnote 1). (For a more general discussion see Wuthnow 1996, Banner 2002.) There are three main reasons for the relative extensive size of the ‘other’ category. First, and most significantly, many areas of concern that were presented in the questionnaire (see Table 4.1 for the complete list of items) had no clear dimensional structure. According to our rules of ‘stability across methods’ and ‘unambiguity of group membership’, these concerns were excluded from the final taxonomy. A prime example of this is environmental groups. Although we assumed that these groups would fall neatly into the ‘new politics’ sub-sector, empirically this proved not to be the case. Environmental groups (and animal protection groups) oscillated between the politics and the leisure sector. This ambiguous position was caused by the nature of the organizations that ticked environment (or animal rights) as their most important concern. The issue area of environment is populated by typical ‘green’ movements and organizations such as local chapters of Greenpeace and by hobby gardeners and rose breeder associations who also claim that environmental protection is their major concern (traditional animal protection associations share the position with pet sports and chicken breeder associations). Second, some country teams included country or city specific categories in the questionnaire (this was most extensively the case in Aalborg). As there were no equivalent categories in other cities, these items could not be used in our comparative analyses and increased the size of the ‘other’ category. Third, some of the concerns included in the questionnaire had to be excluded from the construction of the taxonomy because only one (or no) association(s) indicated that it was their most important concern (see footnote 18 for details). These additional cases contributed further to the expansion of the ‘other’ category. Seventeen per cent in Aberdeen compared with 23 per cent in Mannheim. The different measures of participation were introduced in Chapter 3. Sabadell would qualify as a second outlier (in particular the ‘new politics’ sector) which supplies many volunteers, but – only few associations within the politics area – this result should be taken with care. The evidence presented is based on frequencies and the calculation of mean values per sector and sub-sector. Consequently, it is important to question whether these mean values (which presumably hide large variations within subsectors) really ‘explain’ participatory outputs? In order to test this assumption we conducted a series of regression analyses, using the different participatory outputs as dependent variables and a set of dummy variables presenting the diverse sectors and sub-sectors as independent variables. However, the regression model provides strong support for the results presented in Tables 4.4a to 4.4e. The additional information gained through the regression models was so limited that we decided to avoid unnecessary repetition and have not included these tables in this volume (they can be obtained from the authors on request). There is only one piece of ‘interesting’ information that cannot be obtained from frequency analyses: sector membership’s (statistical) ability to ‘explain’ participatory outputs. In addition to this, the regression models reveal striking differences: the R square statistics produces coefficients between 0.19 (number of activists in Aalborg) and 0.01 (number of volunteers in Mannheim). In general, we find that membership patterns and activist patterns are better ‘explained’ by sectorial type than patterns of volunteering. See Roßteutscher (2006 forthcoming) for a fuller account of the religious/denominational dimension of associative life.

Part II

The role, structure and functions of associations

5

The spectrum of associational activities From self-help to lobbying Herman Lelieveldt, Javier Astudillo and Linda Stevenson

Introduction The recent surge in social capital research has led to a renewed interest in the environments that can function as forums for social participation. As a result political scientists have (once again) extended their definition of associations that may be relevant from a democratic point of view, and moved beyond interest groups, social movements, political parties and trade unions. Only by virtue of taking into account engagement in other, at first sight, ‘non-political’ associations such as churches, self-help groups and sports clubs, it becomes possible to get a complete picture of the relationship between social and political participation. It was also rediscovered that these primarily non-political associations turned out to be highly relevant for the functioning of democracies – something previously emphasized by Tocqueville. These two discrete research traditions failed to provide a complete picture of the activities of different associations. Interest groups and social movements were primarily associated with policy-influencing activities. At the same time the singing groups and soccer clubs made famous by Putnam (1993) derived their prominence precisely because of the opportunities for civic participation they offered, and the political effects these activities generated. But hardly any attention has been paid to the possibility that these associations can be political actors in their own right. This project offers a good opportunity to correct this imbalanced perspective and get a comprehensive view of all the activities of these different types of associations. In order to do so this chapter first presents a typology of associational activities. Making such distinctions facilitates an assessment of how dominant the explicit policy-orientation is in the activity-pattern for the different associations. Are community groups really only engaged in monitoring local decision-making? Or do they also provide services to their members? Do sports clubs only organize activities for their members or do they also from time-to-time engage in lobbying? With these distinctions in mind it is possible to provide an overview of the different activities that are undertaken in various sectors and cities. What

82 Lelieveldt et al. activities are undertaken? How diversified is the activity pattern? Which activities do organizations deem ‘the most important’? Finally, these activity patterns are related to the different participatory measures introduced in Chapter 4 enabling an assessment of the relationship between different types of activities and the associated developmental effects. Before presenting the typology of activities and empirical results, it must be made explicit that studying what associations do is not the same as studying ‘their’ roles or functions. In this chapter associational activities refer to the actual efforts associations undertake to obtain their goals or purposes and not to their ‘functions’ or ‘roles’. Functions and roles refer to the actual effects or consequences of these activities. For example, searching for the ‘democratic purposes’ of voluntary associations is not the same as searching for their ‘democratic effects’. In the case of purposes we are looking at the results actors aim to produce, irrespective of the actual outcome. In the case of effects we are looking at actual results. The analysis in this chapter primarily focuses on purposes by outlining the different activities associations undertake. The study of effects is limited to relating these different activities to the participatory patterns within these associations and treating these as an indicator of the capacity to generate developmental effects.

Kinds of activities In the preceding chapter differentiations were made by presenting an informed typology of the sector domains in which associations reside. This chapter focuses on the activities of associations. The aim is to demonstrate what intermediary associations do, or at least, what they say they do. Therefore a typology of associational activities is needed that is comprehensive enough to capture the diversity of organizational activities, while simultaneously enabling us to say something about two of the main concerns of this volume. First, the extent to which such activities are focused on the political system. Second, the way in which such activities are ‘produced’.1 It is important to make a distinction between activities aimed at organizational maintenance and those designed to achieve specified goals. We further subdivide these instrumental activities on the basis of two criteria: (i) whether they have a policy- or a client-orientation; and (ii) whether these activities are undertaken with or without delegation. Organizational maintenance versus instrumental activities In many studies of the political activities of associations, scholars primarily see groups as instruments for ‘the attainment of a specific goal’ (Parsons 1956: 64, see also Scott 1987). The way that associations select their goals may of course differ. While interest groups are generally perceived as

The spectrum of associational activities 83 pursuing conventional access routes to the political systems, new social movements have been characterized as using more ‘unconventional’ methods of goal attainment. In all these analyses the instrumental view tends to dominate. However, organizational sociologists have pointed out that instrumental activities are only one part of the story. They have drawn attention to organizational maintenance as another important activity. As Gouldner recalled: The organization . . . strives to survive and to maintain its equilibrium, and this striving may persist even after its explicitly held goals have been successfully attained. This strain toward survival may even on occasion lead to the neglect or distortion of the organization’s goals. (Gouldner 1959: 405) As a result two kinds of activities should be distinguished: instrumental activities and organizational maintenance (Perrow 1968; Gross 1969; Mohr 1973). This distinction yields a first question: to what extent do associations engage in ‘maintenance’ activities compared to their instrumental one? To what extent is there a tension between the two types of activities? Too great a focus on maintenance could lead an association to neglect its original goals (Michels 1915/1978). Accordingly, (in the long run) this could produce a zero-sum relationship between ‘external’ and ‘internal’ goals. In short, maintenance activities might be at the expense of instrumental ones. However, Mohr (1973) highlighted that this is an empirical question. This chapter will show the extent to which our data points to a trade-off between the two types of activities. Turning to instrumental activities, we make a distinction between policy- and client-orientated activities. For the first type of activities the political system is the target. The second focuses on members or clients of the association. Our understanding of ‘policy-orientated’ activities follows well accepted definitions of political participation, albeit that it is restricted to the explicit efforts of associations to influence ‘processes of formulation, passage and implementation of public policies’ (Parry et al. 1992: 16). Activities geared toward clients or members complement policy-orientated ones: e.g. singing together in a choral society, providing social support to asylumseekers or playing soccer in a soccer club. In addition to making the distinction between the target of activities, a second distinction can be drawn in the area of instrumental activities that focus on who actually ‘produces’ these actions. Here we follow Kriesi (1996: 153) by highlighting the distinction between activities that involve the delegation of tasks to professional staff (‘with delegation’), and those that are undertaken internally (‘without delegation’). This second dimension of instrumental activities crosscuts the first.

84 Lelieveldt et al. As a result, policy-orientated and client-orientated activities can be subdivided into those with and those without delegation. For the delegated type of policy-orientated activity we use the term ‘representation’, while we label those undertaken by members or activists themselves as ‘mobilization’. The first type of activity is predominant in interest groups that rely on professional staff to do the bulk of the work. Even though such groups from time-to-time mobilize their constituencies, ‘this is not essential to their activities, which are typically carried out by an elite . . . [and] takes place within established routines’ (Kriesi 1996: 153). Mobilization, on the other hand, is the trademark of social movements that normally need to activate supporters to pursue political goals (Kriesi 1996: 152–3). In a similar vein the client-orientated activities can be subdivided into those that are performed with delegate (‘service’) and those that are performed without delegation (‘activation’). Delegated tasks involve the provision of services by professionals, while non-delegated tasks constitute activities undertaken by members themselves. Summarizing, we have identified five types of activities that associations can undertake: maintenance, representation (policy-orientated with delegation), mobilization (policy-orientated without delegation), service (client-orientated with delegation) and finally activation (client-orientated without delegation). (The last four are subtypes of instrumental activities.) Figure 5.1 summarizes the distinctions. Our typology enables us to get a comprehensive overview of associational activities and go beyond the usual equation of pressure groups with representation and soccer clubs with activation. What types of activities are undertaken in the various sectors? What activities do organizations consider to be ‘the most important’? To what extent do they specialize or diversify their activities? With regard to the latter point we should be aware that diversification of activities may be necessary to overcome free-rider problems. If the core activity is focused on the attainment of a public good, it may be necessary to engage in other activities with an individual good nature that can act as a selective incentive to secure member’s contribution to, or participation in, the association. Such a problem may be especially pertinent for those associations with a policy-orientation, because in many cases the fruits of

Organizational maintenance

Instrumental activities

Policy-oriented

With delegation: REPRESENTATION

Without delegation: MOBILIZATION

Client-oriented

With delegation: SERVICE

Figure 5.1 Five types of associational activities.

Without delegation ACTIVATION

The spectrum of associational activities 85 lobbying are non-exclusive. Therefore we expect associations with policyorientated activities to be involved in client-orientated activities to a greater extent, rather than vice-versa. In the next section we apply our data to the typology and provide an overview of the organizational activities undertaken in different cities and sectors. We will also see to what extent there is a trade-off between maintenance and instrumental activities and test our hypothesis about the need to provide selective incentives in the case of policy orientation organizations. Finally, we examine the participatory pattern that can be found in the different associations using the indicators developed in Chapter 4.

An overview of activities The inventory of associational activities is based upon two questions. First, associations were presented a list of different activities and asked to indicate the ones that they had undertaken in the past year. In the supplementary question they were given the opportunity to indicate which they deemed as most important.2 Although in principle there was no limit to the number of items that they could pick (in the latter question), associations on average mentioned just under three activities. The figure is somewhat lower in Aalborg (2,2) and is somewhat higher in the sector of politics (3,7), new politics (4,4) and economics (3,4). Table 5.1 displays the percentages of associations being engaged in the different activities and categorizes them in the five types of activities that we have outlined.3 Thirty per cent of associations mentioned one or more maintenance activities, with recruiting members as the most frequently cited item (by an average of 20 per cent of the associations). The table also ranks the four types of instrumental activities in decreasing order. Although levels of associational activity may differ from city to city, they are comparable in rank-order. In general policy-orientated activities are mentioned by a much smaller share of the associational population than client-orientated activities. The differences are considerable. While about half of the associations mention at least one activation and one service activity (in particular socializing and recreation/sports) – the policyorientated activities of representation and mobilization are mentioned by only a third and a quarter of the associations respectively. Within the category of maintenance, recruiting members is the most important item (only in Aberdeen is fundraising mentioned more often). Activation derives its prominence mainly from the socializing and sports/recreation items, while self-help is ticked by about 10 per cent of associations. In the service category Aalborg stands out with its small percentage of associations that are active in the field of social integration, which may be a reflection of the ethnic homogeneity of its population. However, in Aberdeen (which is as homogeneous as Aalborg) many associations mention social and local integration. While it is improbable that this

86 Lelieveldt et al. reflects ethnic differences, there are socio-economic disparities that have stimulated the development of associations that seek to address the needs of disadvantaged communities. In the category of representation Aalborg once again stands out with half of its associational population mentioning representation. In the other cities between 10 and 30 per cent mention this activity. Finally, the mobilization category derives its scores mainly from the ‘mobilizing members’ item and to a lesser extent from ‘advocacy’. Whichever way one looks at it, client-orientated activities are much more frequently mentioned than policy-orientated and maintenance activities.4 Table 5.2 differentiates between associational sectors, and makes clear that the client-orientation applies in particular to the sectors of family, sports, culture, and group welfare. Representation and mobilization on the other hand are undertaken to a much greater extent by economic interest groups, community-associations, and associations in the sector of politics and new politics. (Although for the latter category the figures are much lower than one would expect.) ‘Client-orientated’ sectors contain more associations than ‘policy-orientated’ ones. Thus once again this table underlines the importance of client-orientated activities compared to policy-orientated ones. The above pattern is largely replicated when we look at the most important activities of associations (Table 5.3). For 88 per cent of sports associations’ activation is the most important activity. Other sectors where the two types of client-orientated activity dominate are family and group specific welfare. At the other side of the spectrum we can see that a little more than 70 per cent of the associations in the political sector and around 60 per cent of the community-groups and economic interest associations see either representation or mobilization as their most important goal. Once again the new politics associations are the outliers with only 27 per cent mentioning policy-orientation as the most important, and emphasizing more heavily servicing client needs. Instrumental versus maintenance activities On the basis of these figures it is possible to assess the relative importance of organizational maintenance compared to the instrumental activities. Of all the associations 30 per cent mentioned one or more maintenance activities, but only 5 per cent noted it as most important. Overwhelming numbers of associations mention other activities in addition to maintenance, and most of the time these activities are considered to be more important. These figures appear surprisingly large because organization theory predicts that almost all associations seek self preservation and will undertake maintenance activities to assure that goal. Why do only 30 per cent of the sample mention it? Disregarding possible methodological issues5, one may simply have to conclude that the ‘natural-system model’ of organizational analysis has been somewhat over emphasized. The

54.4 36.6 28.0 11.5 12.7

27.5 17.0 19.6

31.1 19.3 22.5

Service Service to members Service to others Advisory activities Social/local integration

Representation Representation Lobbying

Mobilization Mobilizing members Advocacy

4.3 (347)

63.1 19.3 52.7 19.3

Activation Socializing Recreation/sports Self help

Other Activities (N)

23.9 8.9 9.8 16.7

Maintenance Recruiting members Fundraising Promoting volunt

Sabadell

14.7 (497)

19.1 12.7 7.4

16.1 11.1 11.3

58.6 36.2 27.6 14.9 15.7

60.2 34.0 26.2 22.5

44.3 17.1 35.6 10.7

Aberdeen

27.0 (796)

21.0 14.4 10.6

31.1 – 32.2

40.8 24.7 10.2 15.5 16.0

54.5 32.3 41.5 6.4

28.6 23.4 – 11.7

Enschede

12.4 (1,618)

32.1 24.3 14.0

28.4 28.4 –

51.4 18.3 23.0 24.7 15.3

47.2 31.9 18.1 12.0

36.6 28.7 – 17.2

Mannheim

Table 5.1 Percentage of associations being active in each activity by category and town

7.9 (1,023)

18.3 12.1 8.5

52.2 51.2 5.1

31.3 21.8 6.8 8.8 3.1

61.1 43.2 30.8 6.6

17.2 8.5 4.5 6.7

Aalborg

– (665)

24.4 20.5 7.8

28.3 28.3 –

60.2 38.2 29.2 25.1 14.9

53.1 36.1 28.1 12.2

31.3 18.9 14.4 10.5

Bern

13.6 (4,946)

25.1 18.2 11.4

32.4 31.0 16.2

47.6 25.8 19.2 18.1 12.7

54.5 34.2 29.1 11.6

30.4 19.8 13.9 12.6

All

88 Lelieveldt et al. Table 5.2 Percentage of associations being active in the five types of activities by sector Sector

Maintenance

Activation

Service Representation

Mobilization

N

Family Sports Culture Community Politics New politics General welfare Group welfare Economic interest Religion Other concerns

36.4 26.4 30.0 18.9 46.0 35.6 58.2 30.6 22.1 34.3 29.4

53.9 95.3 55.8 26.8 25.0 40.0 35.9 56.5 20.6 37.5 53.3

61.8 24.5 33.8 50.5 43.0 77.8 58.8 62.3 66.2 51.4 53.0

32.1 16.5 20.4 71.6 68.0 53.3 23.5 37.0 84.6 15.7 37.5

22.4 15.7 22.7 23.2 72.0 42.2 19.0 21.6 35.3 37.5 25.9

165 750 450 190 100 45 153 324 136 280 1,369

All

30.5

56.8

47.0

33.4

25.0

3,962

sceptical statement that says that the strain toward survival leads associations to neglect external goals, is not supported by our data. Still one should take account of the possibility that instrumental activities may be a way to secure organizational maintenance. For example, Mohr (1973) considered instead that both kinds of activities were equally important because survival was necessary for effectiveness (the attainment of the external goals) and effectiveness was necessary for survival. Nevertheless, organizational maintenance as such does not seem to dominate the activity pattern of associations. Possible concerns about this will probably translate into instrumental activities that seek to attract new members and/or funds. Diversification of activities and the Olsonian dilemma We now take a closer look at the diversification of activities to enable us to find out to what extent policy-orientation complements client-orientation in order to provide selective incentives to associational members. Following Olson’s (1965) theory we would expect that those associations with either representation or mobilization as their most important activity to be more prone to also undertake client-orientated activities than the other way around. Support for this hypothesis can be found in the earlier Table 5.2 which showed that the most policy-orientated sectors (politics, new politics, community and economic interest), also had relatively high levels of service provision. However, this was not true the other way around: i.e. for the service and activation oriented sectors. In addition to this, Table 5.4 classifies the associations according to their ‘most important activity’ (in so far as they were able to select one). It

5.1

8.2 1.7 6.1 2.8 1.1 0.0 21.3 4.4 0.0 3.3 6.2

Family Sports Culture Community Politics New politics General welfare Group welfare Economic interest Religion Other concerns

All

Maintenance

Sector

35.9

20.4 87.5 32.8 4.5 1.1 9.8 16.2 33.1 2.4 10.9 28.5

Activation

Table 5.3 Percentage of most important activity by sector

21.7

40.8 3.9 13.4 25.6 6.8 43.9 36.8 33.7 29.9 31.4 25.0

Service

16.7

14.3 4.8 10.5 55.1 36.4 17.1 8.1 15.7 55.9 6.3 18.6

Representation

6.3

4.8 1.6 5.8 2.3 35.2 9.8 4.4 2.0 6.3 15.5 7.1

Mobilization

14.3

11.6 1.6 31.4 9.7 19.3 19.5 13.2 10.9 5.5 32.6 14.6

Other/multiple

3,575

147 698 411 176 88 41 136 294 127 239 1,218

N

Maintenance

– 24.2 33.9 26.0 38.5

Most important

Maintenance Activation Service Representation Mobilization

36.6 – 35.8 33.6 35.1

Activation 23.8 25.2 – 48.7 34.4

Service 21.6 16.6 28.6 – 38.5

Representation

25.1 14.9 22.0 30.8 –

Mobilization

227 1,447 964 684 262

N

Table 5.4 Percentage of associations that develop other activities next to the most important category (figures of major concern in bold)

The spectrum of associational activities 91 also lists the proportion of activities undertaken outside the most important domain. Almost 50 per cent of associations that have representation as their most important activity also engage in service activities, while a third engaged in activation. In line with our expectations the corresponding figures for the client-orientated associations are much lower: 29 per cent of the ‘service most important’ and 17 per cent of the ‘activation most important’ associations also engage in representation, while 22 and 15 per cent (respectively) of them engage in mobilization. Thus it appears that associations are especially keen on providing activities with a more individual-good nature when they engage in policy-orientated activities. Activities and participatory patterns The literature about the relevance of associations for democracy rests heavily on the assumption that these entities succeed in activating large numbers of members either as activists or as volunteers. This is seen as beneficial for levels of social capital and the development of skills (that also has some political utility) (Warren 2001a). Chapter 3 demonstrated that there may be varying degrees to which voluntary associations rely on volunteers, and that a large number of the associations depend on professional staff to perform specific functions. Both the need for organizational efficiency and the search for social legitimation can lead intermediary associations to shift some, or the bulk, of their work from a voluntary basis to a pecuniary basis. This is especially the case for associations that deliver services on behalf of local governments and act as policy implementers. Harris (2001) found that such tasks demanded increased skills in financial management, business planning, service monitoring and evaluation, personnel management and legal expertise. One response to these requirements can be to headhunt new members with specific skills, but another strategy, especially if voluntary work by specialists is not that easy to find, is to employ professional staff. While such a development may contribute to an association’s effectiveness in terms of a service provider, it may decrease the opportunities for volunteers to be active in the association and develop civic skills. We would expect service activities to be dominated by professionals. At the same time it could be that associations that focus primarily on activation more than average, engage members as activists and volunteers because they have to produce in-house activities. We therefore relate the various participatory measures introduced in Chapter 4 to the most important activity that associations mentioned (Table 5.5). Associations with service as the most important activity indeed rely to a greater extent on employees than the other associations and also their ratio of volunteers to employees is below average: i.e. there are relatively few volunteers per employee. Moreover, the associations with activation as their most important activity stand out in their more than average reliance

Number of members

132.4 161.1 152.1 197.9 143.6 126.3

156.9 4,174

Most important activity

Maintenance Activation Service Representation Mobilization Other/multiple

Total

81.7 4,121

65.2 104.5 74.0 90.2 48.3 53.2

Number of activists

25.3 3,927

32.9 22.9 30.5 24.7 17.5 23.2

Number of volunteers

Table 5.5 Most important activity and participatory measures (mean scores)

9.5 4,102

6.3 3.8 16.8 9.5 2.3 15.0

Number of employees

0.60 3,683

0.57 0.68 0.57 0.54 0.51 0.59

Act/pas ratio

0.28 3,671

0.33 0.22 0.36 0.22 0.25 0.35

Vol/pas ratio

15.80 3,303

27.93 19.32 12.45 12.89 11.51 14.19

Vol/emp ratio

The spectrum of associational activities 93 on volunteers (as demonstrated by the mean values for volunteer– employees ratios). These associations also mobilize their passive members to a greater extent with an average ratio of 0.68. Finally, those associations that focus upon organizational maintenance clearly rely to the greatest extent on volunteers with a volunteer–employee ratio that is twice as high as the average. If one takes these ratios as rough proxies of the extent to which associations really activate members and/or let them organize activities, clearly activation associations are somewhat more efficient in doing this than the other types of organizations. The higher than average active–passive ratios show that ‘their’ members are often active and the chances of ‘really being engaged’ and meeting fellow citizens in these groups is greater than in the other types of associations. In addition to this, the heavier reliance on volunteers means that the opportunities for ordinary citizens to gain skills by organizing things and managing the affairs of the association also increases. At the same time one should not exaggerate the differences between various organizational types. In other areas large numbers of citizens are engaged either as activists or as volunteers, maybe somewhat less ‘efficiently’, but certainly in absolute terms also substantially.

Conclusions This chapter has provided an overview of the different activities associations engage in by making a distinction between organizational maintenance and instrumental activities. Within the latter category a further (sub)distinction was drawn between the target and the producer of these activities. This resulted in a five-fold typology: maintenance, representation (policy-orientated with delegation), mobilization (policy-orientated without delegation), service (client-orientated with delegation) and finally activation (client-orientated without delegation) – with the last four being subtypes of instrumental activities. Our findings show that organizational maintenance is not particularly high on the associational agenda. Instead most activities, and also those considered ‘most important’ (by associations), come from the four categories of instrumental range. Clearly in all cities, except Aalborg, the stress is predominantly on client/member oriented categories of activation and service. Policy-orientated activities are mentioned less frequently both as primary and supplementary concerns. The distribution of these types of activities across associational sectors confirms the common understandings of the level of politicization of these domains. Thus, a policy orientation is more prevalent in the areas of politics, community affairs and economic interests, while a client and member-orientation is more dominant in the areas of sports, family, religion and culture. One surprising result however is that new politics associations are not as explicitly politically active as one would expect on the basis of their classification. Clearly,

94 Lelieveldt et al. one of the ways in which these associations distinguish themselves from their more mature peers is the greater stress on service delivery to clients and members. We have also seen that the associations with a policy-orientation as their most important activity are somewhat more inclined to jointly undertake activities with a more individual-good character to overcome free-rider problems. As a result the spread of activities across the five categories is somewhat larger for policy-orientated associations compared to client-orientated activities. If we take these results as a rough indicator of the associations’ interest in politics, we have to conclude that for a majority of associations politics is a minority pastime. However, this does not mean however that they have no contact whatsoever with local government. As we shall see in Chapter 9, a surprisingly high percentage of associations contact local government, even if representation or mobilization is not their most important activity. Chapter 9 also shows that there may be other reasons, e.g. financial dependence on local government, as well, as more incidental reasons for political engagement. This makes even the most apolitical association a political actor from time-to-time. If associations in general have political orientations it should be stressed that for most organizations these are clearly a by-product of what are essentially non-political activities. Therefore the results point to the importance of the developmental effects that can be generated especially by those associations that are not noted for their policy-orientation. Associations that stress a client-orientation rely to a great extent on volunteers and succeed in engaging relatively many of their members as activists. In absolute terms these associations far outnumber the policyorientated ones. Their contribution to democracy by engaging citizens, bringing them together and giving them opportunities to take on responsibilities within the association can hardly be overestimated. Our analysis has shown that the somewhat different angle that political scientists take when examining different types of associations may be a convenient shortcut, but should not lead us to believe that lobbying is the only thing that interest groups do. While soccer clubs are only concerned about getting their members in the appropriate team, and are ‘most’ interesting as schools of democracy, but not as political actors in their own right. Although the general pattern roughly confirms the biases that we signalled in the introduction to this chapter, a closer inspection revealed a more differentiated activity pattern illustrating that most associations are relevant for the functioning of democracies for more than one reason.

Notes 1 Most of the typologies of associational activities focus on what individuals within these associations do and not so much upon the activities of the associations itself. The common distinction between expressive and instrumental associ-

The spectrum of associational activities 95

2

3

4

5

ations for example is based upon the personal reasons or motivations individuals have to join associations or participate in collective endeavours (Verba et al. 1995: 102), while we are interested here in what happens at the organizational level. There are some small differences between the cities in the items that were included in the questionnaire. Enschede and Mannheim lack ‘fundraising’, Mannheim and Bern do not have ‘lobbying’, and Enschede does not have ‘representation’. Finally the Bernese associations also did not have the ‘other’ category at their disposal. Of course different numbers of possible categories that could be picked in the questionnaire have been taken into account when counting the number of activities an association engages in. The categorization of the items into the five categories has been done on the basis of theoretical considerations. The categorization is validated by the empirical analysis in Chapter 6 which shows that associations that have delegated tasks as their primary activity have far higher levels of professional staff, and in Chapter 9 which shows that associations with representation and mobilization as their primary activity have higher levels of political contacts than those with activation, service or maintenance as their most important activity. The absence of such an explicit political orientation does not mean however that associations do not stay in touch with local government. The analysis in Chapter 9 will show that contacts are to a large extent simply unavoidable as soon as an association deploys some kind of activity and that such contacts in particular intensify with increased financial dependence on local government. In the first place, precisely because maintenance is such an obvious activity associations undertake, they may simply have failed to mention it. In addition, it is also possible that we have failed to make a complete inventory of maintenance activities, by only relying on ‘fundraising’, ‘recruiting members’, ‘promoting volunteering’ as indicators of maintenance and not having others at our disposal.

6

The internal structure of associations Lars Torpe and Mariona Ferrer-Fons

Introduction It is often stated that an ‘institutionalist turn’ has taken place in the social sciences, i.e. that ‘institutions matter’. They matter because they structure political behaviour and influence political outcomes. This chapter examines the internal institutional structure of associations and how this relates to activity and volunteering in associations. The internal structure of associations is old – often as old as the associations themselves. The organizational society is based upon a continuity that we largely do not find in other segments of society. In the ‘classical secondary association model’, formal democratic procedures of decision-making are combined with hierarchical structures that connect local associations with regional and national umbrella organizations. This model had particularly strong roots in the northern part of continental Europe, where it became the organizational basis for the new class-based associations that emerged in the late nineteenth century. The model was regarded as a particularly advantageous instrument in creating strong movements capable of mobilizing large numbers of members and participants. Many of the new associations that expanded within leisure, culture and sport adopted the same model with local branches integrated in national organizations based on elected decision-making bodies (Klausen and Selle 1996). In the course of the second half of the twentieth century, the secondary associations model became a more general model for the internal structuring of associations in Europe. The questions discussed in this chapter are: how widely is it proliferated? And how firmly is it anchored in the different countries? Changes might also have occurred in the classical secondary association model. Some critics have even questioned the likelihood of its survival. For example, Rosenkrands (2000) argued that the model corresponds more to the industrial society of the past, with its class-based social cleavages, than to the present ‘information’ or ‘network’ society with its culture-based divisions and more fluid boundaries. In contemporary society, individuals are no longer ‘born’ into particular classes or class-

The internal structure of associations

97

related associations to which they belong for the rest of their lives. Instead, associations are more or less chosen on the basis of the roles individual citizen plays in everyday life, and what s/he regards to be an appealing activity. As a person’s roles and motives change throughout life, so too will the associations s/he prefers and the kind of activity they want to engaged in. As such, associations have become more like ‘temporary communities’ to which individuals belong for a shorter or longer period of time (Torpe 2003). Such changing relationships between individuals and associations are also captured in the present discourse of ‘network society’ (Castells 2000), and the corresponding discourse ‘from government to governance’ (Newman 2001). These are characterized by an image of a movement from hierarchy to network, i.e. from vertically to horizontally based modes of organization. While this is understood to be something that happens in ‘real life’, clearly it has a number of normative connotations. Informal networking is also deemed to be a more adequate means of getting things done than the standard manner of handling matters through rules and procedures of formal organization. The observation that it has become more difficult to mobilize individuals around shared endeavours, at least with regard to long-term projects, is combined with an understanding of modern individuals as reflexive persons. Individuals are no longer potential full-time activists, but make independent choices on a case-by-case basis. They are not obedient foot ‘soldiers’ fighting (unquestionably) for certain causes, but demand to be heard and to be involved directly in decision-making processes. The loose-knit and informal manner of organization is therefore said to be a more adequate way of ‘doing things jointly’ than the formalized structures of decision-making and implementation (Bang and Soerensen 2001). Are these statements about a transformation in collective practises reflected in the internal structuring of associations? Various observations may provide some support (Selle 1999; Wollebek and Selle 2002). First, the last 20 years has witnessed an increase in small freestanding associations organized around rather narrow issues, and at the same time a decline of associations integrated in regional or national umbrella organizations. Second, there has been a growth in groups and associations that depart from the traditional representative model, particularly within the field of ‘new politics’, but also in the welfare area. Such remarks have been made in Norwegian context (Wollebek and Selle 2002), but similar changes have been observed elsewhere (Newton 1997; Skocpol 1999; Putnam 2000). There are therefore good reasons to believe that tendencies towards a more disintegrated organizational society cuts across several countries. Such tendencies may be followed by a tendency towards an increasingly polarized organizational society (Torpe 2000). At the one end, operating both at the local, national and international levels, we find

98 L. Torpe and M. Ferrer-Fons large, business-like organizations. Although non-profit enterprises, they are often managed as private companies. Their principal activity is ‘lobbying’, ‘campaigning’ and ‘the provision of service’ conducted by a professional staff. Such organizations require ‘supporters’ or even ‘consumers’, but not active members. Putnam labels such organizations ‘tertiary associations’ (Putnam 1995b: 71). ‘Protest businesses’ is another designation that covers some of them (Maloney and Jordan 1997). At the other end, operating mainly at the local level, we find small, informal network-like associations. The most important resource in these associations is the voluntary work of members and associates. Such associations are often ‘freestanding’. Both types differ from the classic ‘secondary association’. The first differs with regard to activity and volunteering, and the second in terms of organizational structure. Since the focus in this investigation is locally based (and we have no time-series data) we are not able to test the hypotheses of a more disintegrated and polarized organizational society in its entirety. Our question is therefore more modest: to what extend do we find signs of a transformation from an industrial society to a network society in the field of associations? More concretely we pose two main questions: (i) will the classical secondary association become less important in the future? (ii) is a new network model emerging that combines smallness, horizontal structures and more informal structures of decisionmaking? On the other hand, general patterns of change should not be overemphasized. Specific national and local contexts will also play a role: e.g. through various legal requirements. For example, we know that Catalonia, in which Sabadell is located, has a larger associational life than the rest of Spain and that Mannheim has a large religious sector that is characterized by some unique organizational features (see Chapters 2 and 3). To demonstrate the variation in the internal structure of associations and to illuminate possible changes we will concentrate on four dimensions. First, hierarchy: are associations vertically organized as local branches of regional or national umbrella organizations or themselves umbrella organizations? Or are associations horizontally organized as freestanding associations or perhaps part of one or more networks? Second, formal representative rule: does volunteering and member activity take place within the settings of established rules and procedures governed by an elected chair or board? Or do they take place within the settings of informal rules and arrangements? Third, the degree of differentiation in the structure of management: to what degree do associations include different positions and bodies, such as a treasurer, a secretary, special committees etc.? Finally, we include size, understood as the composition of the organizational society in terms of members in the analysis of possible changes towards a more network-like organizational society. Although the dimensions of formal representative rule and the differentiation of management overlap, these should nevertheless be


99

treated as distinct dimensions. In the first case, we are interested in whether or not the association is governed by representative rule. In the second the focus is on the degree of administrative differentiation. Associations that are similar with regard to formal, representative rule may differ in terms of the internal structure of management. In some associations we find highly differentiated forms of management with an array of diverse bodies and positions. In other associations there are very limited administrative organizations and positions. Formal representative rule is identified if an association combines the following features: members, a written constitution, a general assembly and either a chair, a board of directors or an executive committee. Failure to fulfil one or more of the three last criteria is an indication of informal rule. The degree of differentiation in the structure of management will be measured in terms of a simple additive index including eight items: a chair, a board of directors, an executive committee, a secretary, a treasurer, committees for specific tasks, an assembly and a written constitution.1 Concerning the third dimension of formal representative rule it should be stressed, however, that the distinction between formal representative rule and informal rule is not congruent with that between democratically and undemocratically organized associations. Democracy refers to many things and can be practised in various ways. From a democratic perspective, informal networks have advantages and disadvantages, compared with formalized associations. However, we cannot judge one to be more democratic than the other on the basis of the organizational structure alone. The four dimensions outlined above are presumably interconnected. Large associations are most likely to be the most formalized and have the most differentiated management structure. The same applies for vertically organized associations, whereas it is likely that small, horizontally organized associations will have a more network-like structure. We attempt to combine the different dimensions in the empirical analysis. Three main questions are addressed: •

•

•

How firmly is the classical secondary associational model – combining hierarchy, formal representative rule and a high degree of internal differentiation of management – anchored in contemporary organizational society? To what extent do we find variations between the six cities in terms of hierarchy, formal representative rule and internal differentiation of management? (How do we explain these differences?) Are there any indications of changes in the composition of the organizational society toward a more network-like structured organizational society?

These questions are addressed in the first part of the chapter. In the second part, we focus on the possible effects of the internal structure

100 L. Torpe and M. Ferrer-Fons on internal participation, i.e. activity and volunteering. What type of organizational structure is likely to be the most efficient at generating participation and volunteering (see Chapter 1)? This question is seldom asked (for one obvious reason) – most studies of civic participation are conducted at the individual level. Our main question is then: is the classical secondary association still a highly effective tool for mobilizing and activating members? Or, have classic secondary associations transformed into bureaucratic machines that are no longer able to further internal activity and volunteering? From the last perspective, the discourse of the network society seems to have fused with a ‘neo-Tocquevillian’ view on the relationship between associations and democracy (Berman 1997). Accordingly, small, autonomous, network-like groups and associations are allegedly more efficient in terms of internal activity and volunteering than large, hierarchically structured and vertically dependent associations. How much empirical support do we find for this theoretical assertion? Is this an adequate representation of present-day organizational society? Three main questions will be addressed in the empirical analysis: •

•

•

Are small, horizontally based associations with a low degree of formalization more likely to increase activity and volunteering than large, vertically organized and highly formalized associations? Are associations with formal representative structures more likely to increase activity and volunteering than informally structured associations? What are the variations between the six cities with regard to these questions?

In the next section we discuss the internal structure of associations and in section three we examine the relationship between the internal structure of associations and activity and volunteering. The conclusions are presented in the fourth section.

The classical secondary model in contemporary society – moving towards a more network structured organizational society? The distributions of the dimensions of hierarchy, formal representative rule and the internal differentiation of management appear in Table 6.1. It presents evidence that serves as the basis for several important observations about internal organizational structures across Europe. Most associations in four of the cities are vertically structured, i.e. are part of a regional or national umbrella organization or themselves an umbrella organization. A clear majority, namely two-thirds of all associations in the six cities, have formal representative rule, i.e. they have members, a

87.1

97.1 94.9 30.2 * 95.1 66.9 94.9 96.0 0.78

Formal representative rule

Differentiation of management: Chair Board of directors Executive committee Secretary Treasurer Committee for specific tasks Assembly Written constitution Index of differentiation 84.9 30.5 67.1 86.2 88.7 66.5 30.1 79.4 0.59

17.4

39.4 60.6

Aberdeen

90.0 89.1 38.0 79.4 85.5 57.9 87.9 90.8 0.74

74.5

38.0 62.0

Bern

93.5 67.4 64.4 92.5 92.7 61.8 69.1 87.3 0.78

61.9

60.7 39.3

Enschede

Notes Items not included in the questionnaire. * In Aalborg and Mannheim ‘secretary’ was translated with a different meaning than in the rest of the cities.

51.3 48.7

Hierarchy: Horizontal Vertical

Aalborg

82.7 75.4 32.2 * 75.8 52.7 80.3 79.5 0.61

65.1

33.1 66.9

Mannheim

Table 6.1 Hierarchy, formal representative rule and differentiation of management, for each city and total (%)

82.6 – 67.8 81.9 83.1 59.9 78.7 81.4 0.76

69.4

31.1 68.9

Sabadell

88.7 76.6 45.6 86.0 86.0 59.9 78.7 86.0 0.70

66.0

42.6 57.4

Total

102 L. Torpe and M. Ferrer-Fons written constitution, a general assembly and either a chair, a board of directors or an executive committee. Furthermore, the management of the organization in most associations is divided into several bodies and positions. In that sense formal representative rule is supplemented by administrative differentiation in most cases. If we examine each body and position more closely, we see that more than 80 per cent have a chair, more than 75 per cent have a treasurer and two thirds or more have either a board of directors or an executive committee. Furthermore, in five of the six cities, around 80 per cent or more have a general assembly. In this regard, a different picture is presented in Aberdeen, where only 30 per cent of the associations have a general assembly. These results demonstrate that the classical secondary association remains the dominant model of voluntary organization across Europe, particularly relating to the dimensions of formal representative rule and differentiation of management. However, the picture is more complex. While a majority of the associations in Aberdeen, Bern, Mannheim and Sabadell are vertically structured, there is a more even distribution in Aalborg. The organizational society in Enschede is more fragmented, with more horizontally than vertically structured associations. Although the Aberdeen case is a striking exception, a more uniform picture emerges when we examine formal representative rule and differentiation of management. The organizational society has presumably become more homogeneous in relation to these factors in recent decades. The principles of representative democracy are now more widespread. In the post-war period West Germany and later Spain adopted democratic constitutions at the national level, and gradually representative democracy became the guiding principle, not only for the political sphere but for the internal structuring of civil society associations as well. This shows how liberal democracy has become part of a common political culture. However, as can be seen in Table 6.1, there is also some variation between the cities in terms of formal representative rule and the differentiation of management, most notably with regard to the former. The specific institutional settings that are prevalent in each setting possibly contribute to an explanation of some of this variation. Particularly important in that respect is the way state–civil society relations have been institutionalized in each country (see Chapters 2 and 7). We will study one aspect of this relationship, namely the legal requirements imposed on associations. We begin by providing a brief presentation of the different forms of regulation that exist in each city, followed by a discussion of the possible effects. In the Netherlands one ought to distinguish between ‘stichting’ (foundation) and ‘vereniging’ (association or club). ‘Stichting’ must register with the public authorities, and they must have a chair and a secretary. The leadership is not elected, as the ‘stichting’ can have no members. Consequently there is no general assembly. Churches are often organized as a


103

‘stichting’. In 1991 there were 81,000 such ‘stichting’ in the Netherlands. The other part of the organizational society consists of ‘vereniging’ (associations). ‘Vereniging’ are not legally required to officially register, but most of them will do so once they have to enter into legal transactions such as the acquisition of property or receiving subsidies. To register ‘vereniging’ must have an elected leadership. In Germany associations will also register in order to obtain a legal status and thus be able to receive public grants. The registration takes place with the local ‘Vereinsregister’ at the local court. The requirements for registration are a constitution, a chair, a general assembly and a minimum membership of seven individuals. It is also stated that the general assembly elects the chair. Moreover, there are some minimum requirements for the constitution, e.g. the purpose of the association must be specified. Almost half of the associations in Mannheim are ‘registered associations’. Like Germany, registration in Spain is associated with the wish to obtain a legal status, for instance in order to get public grants. The requirements for registration are: (i) a written constitution; (ii) the names of the individuals that constitute the governing bodies of the association; (iii) a minimum of three members. In 2002 legislative changes compelled associations to devise a democratic constitution. In practise this means an assembly and an elected leadership. Contrary to the Netherlands, Germany and Spain, there are no registration procedure in Denmark. However, to obtain public grants associations must be approved by the authorities. To gain such approval, the association must present a constitution in which the purpose of the association is stated and from which it appears that the association is democratically structured. The more specific provisions include that the association has an elected board, that it is based on active membership, that it has at least five members, that it is open for all who agree with the purpose of the association and that it is a non-profit enterprise. As in Denmark, associations are not registered in Switzerland but in order to obtain public grants, an association must present a constitution from which it appears that it has democratic rules. Neither in Scotland do we find any procedures of registration but unlike Denmark and Switzerland Scottish associations are not required to present a constitution with representative democratic provisions to obtain public grants. It is sufficient that they merely present an office bearer to open a bank account. Registration is a requirement only in those cases where associations wish to gain status as ‘registered charities’ and thus be eligible for tax breaks, tax exemptions or to have access to certain funds. Some examples will demonstrate how the legal requirements that associations are subjected to have an impact on their internal structure. This may also contribute to an explanation of some of the variation in Table 6.1. For instance, once we know that foundations (‘stichtings’) in the Netherlands have no members and no formal representative

104 L. Torpe and M. Ferrer-Fons structures, it becomes easier to understand why only 62 per cent of the associations in Enschede have representative rule, compared to 87 per cent in Aalborg and 68 per cent in Sabadell. Likewise, the lack of legal requirements in Scotland must be regarded to be an important reason for the very low percentages of associations with formal representative rule in Aberdeen, just as the requirements in Denmark for obtaining public grants explains the very high percentage of associations with formal democratic rule in Aalborg. However, the effects of legal requirement can also be scrutinized in greater detail. For instance, in Enschede more than nine out of ten organizations have a chair and a secretary, which is required by the authorities, while only 70 per cent have a general assembly, which is not required. In Mannheim and Sabadell the legal requirements are reflected in the high proportion of associations that have a chair, a general assembly and a written constitution. There are thus rather strong indications that the various legal institutional arrangements influence the internal structure of associations. However, it should also be pointed out that many associations choose to adopt a formalized structure of management, even if they are not obligated to do so. In Mannheim 80 per cent have a written constitution, but only half of all organizations are registered. In Aalborg 96 per cent have a written constitution, but only 60 per cent receive public grants. Legal requirements would not appear to be the sole reason for determining the internal organizational structure. Cultural factors are also important: e.g. in Denmark it is commonplace that associations operate in accordance with formal representative rule. On the basis of Table 6.1, we concluded that the classical secondary model of association remains firmly anchored in contemporary organizational society. However, are any indications of change visible? Do we find any evidence of the classical secondary model being threatened by a more network-like model? We examine this question below. To illuminate the case we look at possible differences between old and new associations in terms of size, hierarchy and formal democratic rule. Is there any evidence that could indicate that the classical secondary association model is declining, and that a new network model combining smallness, a horizontal structure and more informal structures of decision-making is emerging? To what extent can we interpret possible differences between new and older associations as indications of such a transformation? Table 6.2 provides some support for the change hypothesis. There are more small, horizontally and informally structured associations among the newer associations than among the older ones. We have categorized age in quintiles (see Chapter 10) and compared the newest quintile with the four older put together. The relationship between age and size in each city is statistically significant and straightforward: the partial magnitude of the association ranges

30.8 50.8 90.2

52.9 63.3 79.9

New

■

43.4 39.4 20.2

Older

Aberdeen

65.6 39.8 12.8

New

■

59.2 82.8

46.5 95.2

>49

■

42.3 9.5

1–49

Aberdeen

33.5 29.2

>49

■ 46.2 66.2

1–49

Bern

21.0 36.2 79.0

34.4 89.6

>49

43.8 48.9 53.4

New

Informal

13.1

Horiz.

Aalborg

12.0

Vert.

■

88.3

Horiz.

Aberdeen

78.5

Vert.

■ 28.3

Horiz

Bern

22.9

Vert.

Table 6.4 Horizontal and vertical structure by informal rule (%)

Horizontal Formal

1–49

Aalborg

Bern Older

Table 6.3 Size by dimensions of internal structure (%)

1–49 members Horizontal Formal

Older

Aalborg

Table 6.2 Age by dimensions of internal structure (%)

■

■

■

41.3

Horiz

Enschede

66.7 68.8

1–49

Enschede

36.6 59.4 68.2

Older

Enschede

33.2

Vert.

53.2 81.8

>49

55.5 67.0 47.8

New

■

■

■ 67.3 46.6 58.8

New

33.8 88.7

>49

20.2

Horiz.

42.8

Vert.

Mannheim

36.1 54.6

1–49

Mannheim

34.4 28.1 71.7

Older

Mannheim

■

■

■

33.7

Horiz.

Sabadell

36.9 57.5

1–49

Sabadell

34.4 21.3 68.9

Older

Sabadell

29.6

Vert.

24.9 80.7

>49

49.6 45.5 63.6

New

■

■

■

31.4

Horiz.

Total

47.1 58.2

1–49

Total

32.7 40.0 70.8

Older

Total

36.2

Vert.

39.1 83.8

>49

58.5 52.7 56.9

New

106 L. Torpe and M. Ferrer-Fons between 0.16 and 0.22 (Cramer’s V). In total, almost 60 per cent of the new associations have less than 50 members, compared to 33 per cent of associations with 50 members or more. In Aberdeen, Mannheim and Enschede there is a majority of small associations among the youngest cohort. In Aalborg and Sabadell the distribution is more even. Only in Bern is there a slight majority of older associations. In all six cities we also find positive relationships between age and informal rule. Newer associations have formal representative rule less frequently than older associations, although the difference in Sabadell is small. Finally, age is also related to hierarchy, except in Aberdeen. In the other cities newer associations are more frequently horizontally structured. Those who regard the classical secondary association as a relic of the past might interpret these results as an indicator of future changes. However, we should tread cautiously. First, the effect of age on size is not necessarily a generational effect. It might be a life-cycle effect: associations in the nascent stage of their development tend to be smaller. Second, when the dimensions of size, hierarchy and formal representation are related to one another as shown in Tables 6.3 and 6.4, a more complex picture emerges. As is evident in Table 6.3, size is related to both horizontal structure and informal rule. With regard to horizontal structure, the relationship is positive in all cities except Mannheim, where the distribution between smaller and larger associations is almost equal. With regard to informal structure, there are rather strong relationships in all six cities, most in Bern, Enschede and Mannheim. However, as shown in Table 6.4, there is no clear relationship between informal rule and horizontal structure. The cases of Aberdeen, Enschede and Mannheim are the only ones in which the relationships are statistically significant. In Mannheim, however, the relationship goes the other way around: more horizontally than vertically structured associations have representative rule. Therefore the thesis of a coherent pattern of new network-like associations combining horizontal structure and informal rule is not supported by the data. Fourth, if the effect of age on size is a life-cycle effect, then we should control the effect of age on horizontal structure and informal rule for size. This is done via two logistic regressions models.2 The results of the estimates are shown in Tables 6.5 and 6.6.3 With regard to vertical/horizontal structure, the analysis shows that age (operationalized as a dummy variable where 1 is the newest quintile and 0 the remaining four) and size play a significant role. However, the results vary from city to city. In Mannheim and Sabadell age is strongly significant, whereas size is non-significant. In Aalborg and Bern both age and size are significant, although only at the 0.05 level in three of the four cases. In Enschede only size is statistically significant. The same applies for Aberdeen, but in this case the effect is only significant at 0.10 level. There are two possible interpretations for the differences between the

0.02 0.18* 0.10 371 3.8*** 2 0.014 62.3

0.71*** 0.19*** 0.37*** 802 15.13*** 2 0.025 54.5

0.11 0.21** 0.58** 527 15.85*** 2 0.040 63.8

Bern

Notes p < 0.01 ***; p < 0.05 **; p < 0.10 *. Entries are logit maximum-likelihood estimates. Dependent variable is 1 (vertical association) and 0 (horizontal association)

Constant Size Newest quintile N LR Chi-square DF Pseudo R2 % correctly classified

Aberdeen

Aalborg

Table 6.5 Logistic regression on horizontal/vertical structures

1.29*** 0.29*** 0.08 617 15.82*** 2 0.034 61.1

Enschede 0.51*** 0.07 0.54*** 1,258 18.88*** 2 0.020 64.8

Mannheim

0.88** 0.07 1.19*** 301 17.18*** 2 0.079 71.1

Sabadell

0.12 0.15*** 0.41*** 3,876 65.96*** 2 0.023 58.7

Total

0.47 0.68*** 0.63** 813 39.38*** 2 0.10 90.7

Bern 0.13 0.52*** 0.705** 530 31.47*** 2 0.10 84.7

Aberdeen 3.88*** 0.78*** 0.01 364 44.22*** 2 0.17 79.9

Notes p < 0.01 ***; p < 0.05 **; p < 0.10 *. Entries are logit maximum-likelihood estimates. Dependent variable is 1 (formal) and 0 (informal).

Constant Size Newest quintile N LR Chi-square DF Pseudo R2 % correctly classified

Aalborg

Table 6.6 Logistic regression on formal representative/informal structures

0.41 0.33*** 0.93*** 613 34.76*** 2 0.08 76.8

Enschede 1.41*** 0.92*** 0.204 1,255 174.75*** 2 0.19 75.7

Mannheim

1.13*** 0.69*** 0.18 313 34.96*** 2 0.15 71.6

Sabadell

0.705*** 0.62*** 0.36*** 3,888 339.34*** 2 0.12 74.7

Total


109

older and newer associations in Bern, Mannheim, Sabadell and Aalborg. First, related associations will become interconnected through regional and national umbrella organizations, as they grow older. In other words, the greater proportion of horizontal associations among the newer associations is a life-cycle effect. Consequently, we will not see any change in the organizational society in the future. A second plausible interpretation is that the higher proportion of horizontally structured associations is a generational effect. Many of the new horizontally structured associations will remain horizontally structured as they mature. Consequently, the organizational society in Aalborg, Bern, Mannheim and Sabadell is likely to become more fragmented. If we focus on formal representative rule (Table 6.5), we observe that size can explain most of the variation. In Aberdeen, Mannheim and Sabadell age is not significant after taking account for size. In Aalborg and Bern the effect of age is only significant at the 0.05 level. Enschede is the only case in which age has a clearly significant effect after taking account for size. The result does not give much support for the hypothesis that new associations opt out of formal representative rule as the basic management structure. Only in Enschede and to some extent in Aalborg and Bern could this be the case. However, even here we cannot be certain if these new associations will adopt more formal, representative structures when they grow older. The continuity in this field is somewhat surprising. No doubt, the incentives ‘from above’ to adopt formal representative rule plays a role in several places, but as indicated above, this may not be the whole story. Cultural factors are also important.

The internal structure and participation in associations In this section we turn to the possible consequences of the internal structure for participation in associations, i.e. activity and volunteering. Will different types of organizational structures have different effects on the internal participation? Our expectations concerning the possible effects of the internal structure on participation are somewhat mixed. On the one hand, the classical secondary association model was undoubtedly an effective tool in turning members into activists and volunteers in the past. However, this may have changed. Robert Michels’ (1915/1978) famous description of the oligarchic tendencies in modern organizations has perhaps always contained some truth, but when Michels wrote his book, such tendencies did not in fact hamper the mobilization of members – on the contrary. This could, however, be the case today. If this observation is correct, we will see relatively more activity and volunteering in the small, horizontally and informally structured associations than in the large, vertically and formally structured associations. To examine these questions, we use two of the indicators of participation developed in Chapter 3, i.e. the ratios of activists/passive members

110 L. Torpe and M. Ferrer-Fons and volunteers/passive members. These indicators measure organizational efficiency and thereby the relative strength of associations to turn passive members into activists and volunteers. Table 6.7 illustrates the relationship between the degree of differentiation in the structure of management and participation. Only in Mannheim and Aberdeen, are the ratios of active to passive members negatively significant but with a weak magnitude, whereas the ratio of volunteer to passive members works better. With the exception of Aberdeen, associations that are highly formalized with many different bodies have a lower capacity to mobilize volunteers from their pool of passive members. The results are particularly remarkable for Mannheim and Enschede. In short, activity is not – or merely weakly – related to the degree of differentiation in the structure of management. However, there are moderately strong effects with regard to volunteering. Table 6.8 presents mean values and mean differences in participation for the existence of formal/informal representative rules, hierarchy and size in the case of each city. Associations with an informal structure appear to be the most efficient in activating larger proportions of their members, with the exception of Aberdeen. In Enschede differences among means are only statistically significant in the ratio of volunteer to passive. In Mannheim and Aalborg the differences are particularly clear-cut. In Bern, Enschede and Mannheim, differences among means are especially strong and reach values of 0.3 with regard to the ability of informally structured associations to mobilize volunteers. Among the determinants presented in Table 6.8, hierarchy plays the least significant role for mobilizing members. There is thus no effect in Aalborg, Enschede and Sabadell, whereas in Aberdeen only a moderate effect concerning volunteers can be found. The only city where differences among mean values are statistically significant for both ratios is in Mannheim. These results also have contradictory expectations: vertically structured associations are more capable of transforming passive members into activists and volunteers than horizontally structured ones. In his classical study, Olson (1965) also pointed out that small groups are more efficient at giving rise to collective action than their larger counterparts. Individuals may have greater incentives to participate and volunteer in small associations because they perceive greater opportunities to interact among members, to influence the everyday operations in their association, and to overcome the cost of organizing actions than is the case in large bureaucratic organizations. Table 6.8 illustrates the involvement patterns depending on size recoded in two categories (1–49 members versus 50 members or more). The impact of size is statistically significant and clear in all cities. Small associations are more efficient at mobilizing both volunteers and activists. Differences among mean values are also consistently statistically significant in all the cities. In Table 6.9 we present two OLS regression models to explain the ratio

0.11* 0.02

Aberdeen

Notes The correlation is significant at: p < 0.01 **; p < 0.05 *.

Active to passive members 0.01 Volunteer to passive members 0.12**

Aalborg 0.02 0.14**

Bern 0.02 0.26**

Enschede

Table 6.7 Participation by differentiation in the structure of management (Pearson’s R)

0.17** 0.31**

Mannheim

0.09 0.14*

Sabadell

0.09** 0.21**

Total

Informal Formal Mean differences

Horizontal Vertical Mean differences

Horizontal Vertical Mean differences

1–49 members 50 or more Mean differences

1–49 members 50 or more Mean differences






0.39 0.13 0.26***

0.76 0.58 0.18***

0.23 0.23 n.s.

0.65 0.64 n.s.

0.36 0.22 0.14***

0.76 0.63 0.13***

0.30 0.17 0.13***

0.79 0.63 0.16***

0.31 0.25 0.06*

0.74 0.69 n.s.

0.28 0.23 n.s.

0.72 0.69 n.s.

Aberdeen

0.33 0.10 0.23***

0.64 0.48 0.16***

0.21 0.20 n.s.

0.51 0.56 n.s.

0.45 0.14 0.31***

0.64 0.52 0.12***

Bern

Notes Differences between means significant at: p < 0.01 ***; p < 0.05 **; p < 0.10*; n.s. not significant.

Informal Formal Mean differences


Aalborg

0.33 0.16 0.17***

0.74 0.48 0.26***

0.33 0.33 n.s.

0.62 0.57 n.s.

0.58 0.21 0.37***

0.63 0.58 n.s.

Enschede

0.38 0.10 0.28***

0.66 0.43 0.23***

0.22 0.29 0.7***

0.48 0.58 0.10***

0.46 0.17 0.29***

0.69 0.49 0.20***

Mannheim

0.28 0.07 0.21***

0.71 0.44 0.27***

0.16 0.18 n.s.

0.54 0.57 n.s.

0.26 0.13 0.13***

0.61 0.53 0.08*

Sabadell

Table 6.8 Participation by formal/informal representative rules, horizontal/vertical organization and size (mean values)

0.36 0.13 0.23***

0.71 0.50 0.21***

0.26 0.26 n.s.

0.59 0.60 n.s.

0.42 0.19 0.23***

0.69 0.56 0.13***

Total

0.21*** 0.08** 0.03

0.03

0.17*** 0.06*

Notes p < 0.01***; p < 0.05**; p < 0.10*. The estimates are standardized Beta coefficients.

MODEL 2 Size Degree of differentiation Adjusted R2

Adjusted R2

MODEL 1 Size Formal representative rule

Aalborg

0.12** 0.06 0.02

0.02

0.16*** 0.03

Aberdeen

Table 6.9 OLS regression on the ratio active to passive members

0.13*** 0.03 0.01

0.01

0.11*** 0.003

Bern

0.30*** 0.08** 0.08

0.07

0.28*** 0.03

Enschede

0.19*** 0.08*** 0.05

0.06

0.18*** 0.12***

Mannheim

0.27*** 0.005 0.06

0.06

0.27*** 0.01

Sabadell

0.21*** 0.004 0.04

0.05

0.19*** 0.06***

Total

114 L. Torpe and M. Ferrer-Fons of active to passive members. In Model 1 the effects of formal representative rule are controlled for size (as originally coded ordinal). The same is the case for the degree of differentiation in the structure of management in Model 2. In Table 6.10 we have specified similar regression models for the ratio of volunteer to passive members. Concerning the ratio of active to passive members, size – from smaller to larger numbers of members – in both models is negatively statistically significant. The negative impact of formal associations only exists in Mannheim and Aalborg. The degree of differentiation is significant in these two cities and Enschede, but with opposite effects depending on the city and, in any case, smaller comparing with size. In Table 6.10 two regression models are displayed for the ratio of volunteer to passive members. Again in both models the impact of size is strong and negatively significant – larger associations mobilize less. In Model 1 the effect of formal associations is negative and significant only in Bern, Enschede and Mannheim. For Model 2, the impact of the degree of differentiation is weak (in Aberdeen, positive) or nonexistent (in four cities). Mannheim is the only case city in which associations with high structures of management are clearly less capable of transforming passive members into volunteers. In summary then, although the existence of formal representative rules has a negative effect on participation in certain cities and, to a lesser extent the degree of differentiation, size is by far the strongest factor for all cities. Smallness seems to be the most powerful determinant for participation. We can conclude that internal structure matters – basically due to size – but not a lot.

Conclusion The internal structure of the organizational society is seldom addressed in studies of voluntary associations. Our knowledge of this aspect of associational life is therefore rather limited, both within and between countries. In this chapter we have focused on four dimensions of the internal structure in six European cities: hierarchy; formal representative structures; the degree of differentiation in management structures; and size. Most associations are vertically structured. However, there is considerable variation between cities – from Mannheim, where two thirds of the organizational society is vertically structured, to Enschede, where two-thirds are horizontally structured. In five of the six cities, between 62 and 86 per cent of the associations have formal representative rule: most in Aalborg and least in Mannheim. However, on this dimension Aberdeen stands as an exception, with less than 20 per cent with formal representative rule. Aalborg, together with Bern and Sabadell, has the most differentiated structure of management; Aberdeen and Mannheim the least. The rather uniform picture pertaining to the internal management of

0.21*** 0.06 0.03 0.22*** 0.09* 0.03

0.43*** 0.05 0.16

Aberdeen

0.40*** 0.03 0.16

Notes p < 0.01 ***; p < 0.05 **; p < 0.10 *. The estimates are standardized Beta coefficients.

MODEL 1 Size Formal representative rule Adjusted R2 MODEL 2 Size Degree of differentiation Adjusted R-squared

Aalborg

0.30*** 0.02 0.09

0.28*** 0.11*** 0.11

Bern

Table 6.10 OLS regression on the ratio volunteer to passive members

0.23*** 0.01 0.05

0.21*** 0.14*** 0.07

Enschede

0.35*** 0.11*** 0.17

0.35*** 0.14*** 0.18

Mannheim

0.36*** 0.01 0.12

0.35*** 0.007 0.12

Sabadell

0.33*** 0.03** 0.12

0.32*** 0.08*** 0.12

Total

116 L. Torpe and M. Ferrer-Fons associations must presumably be considered in light of the spread of representative democracy as the organizing principle during the twentieth century, with Aberdeen as an interesting exception. The spread of the ideas, norms and practises that are intrinsically tied to representative democracy is, however, only one factor. In most countries there are also rather strong institutionalized incentives for associations to implement representative democratic structures. The institutional variations between the countries in this field are clearly reflected in the internal structuring of the different organizational societies. All in all, the results show that the classical secondary association model continues to have a rather firm foundation, at least on the continent. A great part of the organizational society is thus vertically structured, i.e. connected through regional and national umbrella organizations. A great part of the organizational society is also based on formal, representative rules of management. The question remains, however, whether or not there are signs of a break with this model. This has been predicted in public debate in recent years and has furthermore been supported by observations on changes towards more informal, flexible network-like structures. In any case, formal, representative rule seems to have lost much of its popularity in recent years. There would therefore be ample reason to expect that there are more horizontally organized associations and more associations with informal rules among the newly formed associations than among the old. As to the first dimension, the findings lend some support to the hypothesis. There are more freestanding associations among the newest associations than among the older ones, and in four of the six cities, the effect of age remains after taking account for size. If we interpret the effect as a generational effect, this would imply a more fragmented organizational society in the future. On the second dimension the findings are mixed. In Mannheim, Sabadell and Aberdeen we found no differences between old and new associations after taking account for size, whereas we found some differences in Aalborg, Bern and Enschede. However, the effects are weak and cannot serve as the basis for a conclusion of a break with the classical secondary associations model. Rather, they indicate the following pattern: when associations are new, they are often small and based on informal structures of decision-making. If they ‘live and prosper’ they tend to adopt more formal representative structures.4 There is thus a remarkable continuity in the internal structure of associations. Finally, we have also examined whether or not internal structure matters for participation, i.e. for the ability of associations to transform passive members into activists and volunteers. As could be expected, size plays a major role. Small associations have higher ratios of passive members to activists and volunteers than do large associations. However, it makes little or no difference for activity whether associations are horizon-


117

tally or vertically structured, whether they are governed by formal representative structures of decision-making or through informal structures, or whether the administrative structure is highly differentiated or not. The findings are surprising. Contrary to that which is often presented in public debate, the ‘old-fashioned’ vertically and formally structured secondary association is not less capable of transforming passive members into active members than is the horizontal and informal structured association. While size definitely plays a role, the other parts of the ‘neoTocquevillian’ grass-root-like image of organization are not confirmed (see also chapter 7). The notion that the autonomous and network-like organization is good and that the vertically structured organization with formalized, representative structures is bad for internal activity is apparently only one of the many myths that flourish about voluntary associations

Notes 1 For Mannheim, Aalborg and Sabadell the index included seven items. In Mannheim and Aalborg ‘secretary’ was not correctly translated so we decided to exclude it from the index. In Sabadell ‘board of directors’ was not included in the questionnaire. 2 Given the dichotomous nature of the dependent variables, the models have been estimated through logistic regression. 3 We decided to show only logit coefficients and the statistical significance. We have not displayed the standard errors, but these results are available upon request to the authors. 4 In several countries the legal requirements will provide further incentive to do so.

7

Organizational resources Personnel and finances Hanspeter Kriesi

Introduction There are two contrasting developments which serve as the data for this paper. On the one hand, we observe that all kinds of associations are professionalizing and becoming, in the process, less dependent on their members. Several years ago McCarthy and Zald (1987) challenged the usual assumptions about participation and social movements in America. They argued that the functions historically served by a social movement membership have been increasingly taken over by paid functionaries, by the ‘bureaucratization of social discontent’, by mass promotion campaigns, by full-time employees whose professional careers are defined in terms of social movement participation, by philanthropic foundations and by government itself. (McCarthy and Zald 1987: 340) More recently, Jordan and Maloney (1997: 195) have argued much along the same lines, maintaining that ‘large-scale “new politics” groups in the United Kingdom have added very little to the enhancement of participatory democracy’. The last decades of the twentieth century have seen the rise of a model of mobilizing which makes use of new organizational techniques and which adapts to the changing lifestyle of the associations’ target population – the members of the new middle class. These new techniques include start-up sponsoring by foundations or large donors, recruitment drives by direct mail and media advertising, and ‘vicarious militantism’, i.e. protest events carried out by professional teams on behalf of their ‘isolated constituents’ or ‘cheque-book members’. As far as mobilization goes, the new techniques often involve the concentration of the organizational effort in efficiently managed headquarters located close to the national government and the national media. Similar tendencies have long been noticed by students of political parties. Many have become ‘electoral-professional’ parties (Panebianco

Organizational resources 119 1988) or ‘cartel-parties’ (Mair 1997), which instead of relying on an active membership rely on professional staff and state support for their organizational infrastructure. As electoral campaigning becomes more capital- and less labour-intensive, and as traditional class and religious subcultures disintegrate, the activists on the ground become less important. Campaigning is increasingly done by political communications experts, the political rallies and assemblies are replaced by mass media mobilizing. Similarly students of voluntary service associations have observed that the expansion of the welfare state led to the professionalization of social services, which profoundly affected the role of private voluntary social involvement. On the other hand, we observe an increase in the number of associations and the number of memberships. Thus, the associational density has tripled in Germany and France since the sixties, and similar figures exist for Austria (Anheier and Toepler 2002: 32–3.). While the large traditional associations – parties, unions, churches – are professionalizing and losing members, smaller, more flexible and ‘porous’ (see Wuthnow 1998) associations of a more recent origin are multiplying. Citizens join associations more frequently and in larger numbers, but they do so less often in large associations and in the established associations of the industrial age. Moreover, their involvement in associations is becoming less continuous and more task- and issue-specific. In the domain of mobilization, this reorientation of the citizens’ involvement has been interpreted as a result of their ‘organizational dissatisfaction’, i.e. their dissatisfaction with ‘the large bureaucratic bodies and the time-consuming procedures and complicated decision-making structures that exist within traditional established parties and trade unions’ (Nedelmann 1987: 196). The mode of movement politics as it was developed by the so called new social movements – participatory, issue-specific and oriented towards public opinion – has struck a responsive cord within large parts of the Western European societies (Kriesi 1993: 257). For voluntarism more generally and with a Swedish point of view, Rothstein (2001a: 220) speaks of a more ‘individualistic pattern of participation’ or a ‘solidaristic individualism’. According to his assessment, rather than a general decline in voluntarism, Sweden is experiencing a change in the composition of associational life. Similarly, Wuthnow (1998) has argued that the three traditional models of civic involvement – the ‘organizational man’, the ‘club woman’ and the ‘good neighbour’ – are being replaced by the ‘non-profit professional’, the ‘volunteer’, and the ‘close friend or soul mate’. The new middle class professionals no longer act as the ‘trustees of community’, they live less rooted lives, have complicated family schedules and consider that they can best contribute to the common welfare by working with other specialists to tackle the complex problems they confront in their professional lives (Skocpol 1999). The new modes of association are said to have adapted to the fluidity, interdependence and specialization of contemporary life

120 Hanspeter Kriesi These two trends are complementary rather than contradictory. The new associationalism is fuelled by the professionalization of the established associations. The fact that ever more people are leaving these associations to get involved in the more flexible associations of a more recent vintage, in turn, contributes to the further professionalization of the established organizations. In addition, the professional organizations may make explicit efforts to link-up with the more flexible branches of the associational world in order to better reach their constituents. A vibrant voluntary sector may indeed be the result of deliberate state promotion. Thus, British governments have made great efforts to cultivate the voluntary sector, notably by involving it in the delivery of social services to a degree that seems striking in cross-national terms. Many government programmes use local volunteers to an extraordinary extent, in tandem with public professionals, to deliver social services (Hall 1999). A ‘catalyzing state’ organizes and coordinates the public services and goods, but it does not necessarily deliver them to the clients who need them (Bütschi and Cattacin 1994). In a somewhat different way, a universal highly professionalized welfare state may create a general kind of social trust which is conducive to the development of the new type of associationalism. Thus, Rothstein (2001a) argues that Sweden’s vibrant civil society has not been constrained by its encompassing welfare state – on the contrary. He maintains that it is precisely the universal character of the Swedish ‘people’s insurance’ that has created the high social trust that is a key characteristic of Swedish society. Given these two opposing trends, we can expect to find highly asymmetrical distributions of personal and financial resources among the associations in our cities. On the one hand, we are likely to find a few highly professionalized and highly resourceful associations. On the other hand, we should find that the bulk of the associations are likely to have rather few resources of either kind. The ideal–typical professional associations have both large financial and staff resources. They need one in order to pay for the other. The contrasting type, which we propose to call membership association, consists of organizations with no or only a symbolically paid staff and a small budget compared to the size of their membership. In addition, the two types of associations are likely to obtain their resources from quite different sources. The membership association tends to depend on membership dues. The professional associations, by contrast, can be expected to be more independent of their membership. Such organizations tend to diversify their financial sources. They are likely to get their funds from third parties such as the state or large private sponsors, or they finance themselves by selling services to their own constituency and other clients. These professional associations tend to be independent of their members for their activities, too. They rely on paid staff, while the members mainly are passive spectators, ‘cheque-book activists’ who may participate from time to time in ‘transitory teams’ for

Organizational resources 121 specific tasks, but who do not get continuously involved in the organizations’ business. More generally, the membership associations could be said to follow a ‘logic of membership’, while professional associations can be expected to follow a ‘logic adapted to their task-specific environment’.1 This chapter opens with a brief discussion of technical aspects of the operationalization of the major dependent variables. Next, it presents the distributions of our dependent variables. As expected, these distributions turn out to be highly skewed. Third, the presentation turns to the analysis of the determinants of an association’s resource endowment. We consider five factors expected to play a determining role – city, task domain, size, external support and age. Each determinant will be analysed separately before presenting the results of multivariate analyses. Finally, we present the implications of the amount of resources for the level of activism within an association.

Operationalization In describing the resources of the associations, we can rely on indicators for their budget – the overall amount of the associations’ annual financial resources – for the composition of their financial sources, and for the number of their paid staff. These indicators seem straightforward, but comparing data cross-nationally is never quite that clear-cut. In the particular case of the organizational resources, there are some technical aspects which complicate matters. Concerning the financial resources, not all associations provided precise figures. In Denmark, they were not asked to give precise figures at all, but were only asked to indicate the order of magnitude of their resources. In Germany and Scotland, the associations had the opportunity to choose between categorical or precise information, which led about two-thirds to opt for categories. In the other countries, the respondents had no choice but to provide precise figures. To avoid loss of information, we use precise figures as far as possible. To obtain comparable ‘precise’ budgetary figures for the categorical data, we use the categories’ midpoints. In the Danish case, where the number of categories provided was quite large and their scope correspondingly limited, this is not as problematic as in the case of the other two countries, where only a limited number of categories were available. The budgetary figures were then transformed into the common currency of the euro and the figures used throughout this chapter are given in multiples of 1,000 euro. While this is a standard procedure, it should be noted that it does not take into account differences in purchasing power, which exist even among these economically comparable Western European countries. Thus, as every tourist knows and as The Economist’s Big Mac Index confirms, Switzerland is very expensive, which means that the Swiss figures may be somewhat inflated compared to other countries.

122 Hanspeter Kriesi With regard to the composition of the budget, the questionnaire allowed the organizations to indicate the percentages of their budgets that are attributable to membership dues, contributions by a peak association, subsidies of local, regional, and national governments, to services, donations, fundraising, or other sources. The percentages for the different components provided by the associations for the different financial sources do not always add up to 100 per cent, given the lack of precision of the estimates provided for the different sources. With respect to staff resources, the questionnaire asked separately for the number of full-time and part-time employees. For the following analysis, we simply add the two figures. In other words, we present figures for the number of employees, disregarding the number of hours they work.

The distribution of resources As outlined in the introduction, we can expect to find both a few highly resourceful, professionalized organizations, and a large number of ‘membership’ organizations with very little resources. Since we look at the associational universe at the local level, we may actually miss the most important part of the phenomenon of professionalization, which is likely to be most pronounced in the staff-heavy national associations that are not part of our universe. But if the idea of a double trend characterizing the transformation of the associational world outlined in the introduction has some empirical grounding, we should find the division between the resourceful few and the resourceless many even at the local level. Table 7.1, which presents the overall distributions for budget and staff across all our six cities, shows this to be the case. First, let us take a look at the budget: as is indicated by the first column in the first part of the table, the bulk of the associations (roughly 60 per cent) have an annual budget of less than 10,000 euro. By contrast, there are few associations (3.2 per cent) with a budget of more than one million euro and some very few (below 1 per cent) with an annual budget in excess of ten million Euros. The elite at the top end of the scale control most of the financial resources in the local associational systems. The second column demonstrates that over two-thirds of the total annual budgets of all the associations in the cities are absorbed by the less than 1 per cent of the associations in the top category! Excluding this category from the analysis, as in the third column of Table 7.1, still leaves almost two-thirds of the remaining resources in the hands of the next most resourceful category! The last column of the table presents the corresponding distribution of total membership for comparative purposes. Clearly, membership is much less concentrated than financial resources – a result which serves as an indication of the ideal–typical distinction between professional and membership associations. The second part of Table 7.1 deals with staff and tells a similar story. On the one hand, we find an even larger group with no resources at all:

Organizational resources 123 Table 7.1 Asymmetrical distributions of budgets and staff (%) a) Budget (in euro) Category Less than 1,000 1,000 10,000 100,000 1,000,000 10,000,000 Total N

In % of cases

In % of total budget

In % of total budget

In % of total membersa

14.8 45.2 24.3 12.5 2.6 0.6

0.0 0.5 1.9 8.2 19.4 69.9

0.0 1.6 6.5 27.4 64.5 –

2.0 18.3 34.5 31.3 6.7 7.3

100.0 (4,450)

100.0 (4,450)

100.0 (4,425)

100.0 (4,265)

b) Staff (in number of employees) In % of cases 0 5 5–9 9–29 30–49 50–99 100–499 500 Total N

In % of total staff

In % of total staff

In % of total membersa

71.3 14.9 6.2 4.2 1.0 0.9 0.9 0.5

0.0 2.9 3.4 6.0 3.4 5.6 19.0 59.9

0.0 7.2 8.4 14.8 8.3 13.8 47.0 –

39.1 18.6 8.4 12.9 2.6 10.6 5.7 7.3

100.0 (4,820)

100.0 (4,820)

100.0 (4,752)

100.0 (4,671)

Note a Excluding two outliers – two associations (one German and one Swiss) with very large financial resources, but no staff and very large numbers of members.

almost three-quarters (71.3 per cent) of all the associations in our universe do not have any staff at all. On the other hand, somewhat more than 1 per cent have more than 100 employees and less than 1 per cent of the associations can count on more than 500 staff members. The concentration of staff in a handful of associations is similar to that of the financial resources: roughly 60 per cent of all the staff is in the hands of less than 1 per cent of the associations; and almost 80 per cent of the staff members work for the associations in the top two most resourceful categories! By contrast, membership is actually concentrated in the hands of the associations that have no staff at all. In other words, the ideal–typical distinction between professional and membership associations comes out even more clearly with respect to staff resources. Table 7.2 presents the same distributions as the first columns in the two

124 Hanspeter Kriesi Table 7.2 Distributions of budget and staff by city (%) a) Budget Bern Less than 1,000 1,000 10,000 100,000 1,000,000 10,000,000 Total N

Aberdeen Enschede Mannheim Sabadell Aalborg All

5.5 29.3 31.7 27.2 5.3 1.0

14.9 46.2 15.8 18.6 4.1 0.4

11.3 46.4 28.7 9.3 3.2 1.1

20.8 47.2 18.6 10.2 2.4 0.7

41.9 24.4 24.2 7.8 1.7 0.0

2.1 57.6 30.4 9.1 0.7 0.0

14.8 45.2 24.3 12.5 2.6 0.6

100.0 (526)

100.0 (463)

100.0 (655)

100.0 (1506)

100.0 (360)

Bern

Aberdeen Enschede Mannheim Sabadell Aalborg All

100.0 100.0 (940) (4,450)

b) Staff

0 5 5–9 10–29 30–49 50–99 100–499 500 Total N

57.9 24.1 8.6 5.4 1.2 1.1 1.4 0.5

61.5 20.1 7.5 6.3 1.7 1.3 0.8 0.8

100.0 (665)

100.0 (478)

69.9 14.1 6.9 4.5 1.1 0.7 1.6 1.2

73.3 13.9 5.2 4.0 1.0 1.3 0.9 0.5

77.9 12.8 3.9 3.6 1.2 0.6 0.0 0.0

100.0 100.0 (817) (1,590)

100.0 (335)

81.6 8.8 6.1 2.7 0.4 0.2 0.2 0.0

71.3 14.9 6.2 4.2 1.0 0.9 0.9 0.5

100.0 100.0 (935) (4,820)

parts of the previous table, but now for each city separately. As can be seen from this table, the general shape of the distributions is the same in each and every place. The cities only differ with regard to the average resource level, but the overall spread – many associations with only few resources and very few associations with a great amount of resources – is the same everywhere. As highlighted above, our project views the associational world from the ‘bottom up’. That is, we are studying an inventory of the associations active at the local level in the selected cities. Now, most of these associations are, of course, local ones. But there are some exceptions as far as the territorial scope of our organizations is concerned. Since the cities selected are also to some extent regional centres, some associations do not restrict their activities to the local area, but are in fact regional organizations. Some have activities, which extend even beyond the regional domain. We may find truly national associations in our inventories, which just by chance happen to have their national headquarters in the cities we selected and which may have been included in our study, although they

Organizational resources 125 do not actually belong to the local universe of associations. The problem of delimiting the local universe is particularly cumbersome in federalist countries such as Germany and Switzerland, where medium-sized cities are at the same time important political and administrative centres and, therefore, serve as the seat of regional associations of all sorts. In the case of the city of Berne, the issue of the territorial scope is particularly serious, because Berne is not only the capital of the Canton of Berne, but also the Swiss capital. For all associations in our sample, we know if their activities are exclusively at the local level, or whether their activities extend to the regional and or even the national level. Comparing the resources of the associations with activities at different levels allows for a partial test of the hypothesis that the professionalization is more advanced among associations with a more encompassing territorial scope. An additional test of this hypothesis is possible because of the erroneous inclusion of some truly national associations in the original Swiss data-set2. Figure 7.1 presents a test of the hypothesis for financial resources only. The figure presents average annual budgets for each level of territorial scope in eight cities. The results for the staff turn out to be largely similar. As expected, in all cities except one – Aberdeen – the financial resources increase with an increase in the scope of the associations’ activities. If we look at the truly national associations which were at first erroneously included in the Swiss case, this hypothesis is even more strongly confirmed: the resources at their disposal dwarf the resources of all other types of associations in our data-set. Their budget is, on average, more than four times that of local associations with some national activities in the city of Berne. However, this does not mean that all the exceptionally resourceful associations in our data-set are at least partly national in scope. We find them at all levels of activity in four of our cities3. 400,000 Local Regional National–international

350,000

In 1,000 euro

300,000 250,000 200,000 150,000 100,000 50,000 0

Bern

Aberdeen Enschede Mannheim

Sabadell

Aalborg

City

Figure 7.1 Financial resources by city and territorial scope of activity, only local/regional associations, without outliers: averages (in 1,000 euro)

126 Hanspeter Kriesi The highly skewed distributions of the two types of resources makes them difficult to analyse. There clearly are two different logics at work here – one for the mighty professionalized few and one for the large majority of the local associational universe. These two logics cannot be analysed at one and the same time. If we wish to describe the resource situation of the typical local associations, we need to exclude the few very large associations from our analysis. If we do not do so, the emerging pattern will be totally determined by the few outliers, which we should analyse apart as a distinct group. We exclude associations with a budget of more than ten million euro or more than 500 employees from the descriptive and bivariate parts of the subsequent analyses. This leaves the remaining distributions still highly skewed, as indicated by the third columns in Table 7.1, but nevertheless considerably less so than when including the most resourceful organizations. Opting for the analysis of the majoritarian logic, we certainly miss the most important part of the phenomenon of professionalization. But the empirical bifurcation of resource endowment in the associational world imposes such a procedure for the further analysis. An alternative to excluding the outliers at the top end of the scale is to analyse the logarithm of the resource variables instead of the raw scores. This amounts to analysing the order of magnitude instead of the absolute size of the resources. We adopt this option in the final multivariate analyses.

Local context The first determinant of associational resources is the local context. These local contexts are, however, embedded in different national contexts, which means that many of the differences between the cities are in fact attributable to differences between the countries in which the cities are located. Such differences are also likely to have more regional (especially in the two federalist countries) and local origins. As far as national differences are concerned, it is well known that levels of associational membership vary considerably from one country to the other. Data from the World Values Survey of 1991 to 1993 show that the expected counts of total associational memberships per respondent vary enormously between countries (Curtis et al. 2001: 792)4. These differences are confirmed by the European Values survey 1999–2000 (Anheier and Toepler 2002: 33). The Netherlands are the champions not only in comparison to the other countries involved in our study, but their population has a higher level of associational membership than any other country compared. By contrast, Spain closes the rank in the comparison by Curtis and his collaborators, while the 1999–2000 data indicate that some, but not all Eastern European countries (Bulgaria, Lithuania, Poland, Romania, Russia) even rank behind Spain. Our own study largely confirms these differences – with respect to popular involvement (see Geurts and Morales 2006) as well as with regard to associational density (see Chapter 3 in this volume).

Organizational resources 127 While these data give us a first indication of the relative vibrancy of the associational world in the six countries, they do not directly address the question of organizational resources. The data presented in Figure 7.2 a) Average budget 250

In 1,000 euro

200 150 100 50 0 Bern

Aberdeen

Enschede

Mannheim

Sabadell

Aalborg

Sabadell

Aalborg

Sabadell

Aalborg

City b) Total budget of local associational system

In million euro

200 150 100 50 0 Bern

Aberdeen

Enschede

Mannheim

City c) Staff 7

Number of staff

6 5 4 3 2 1 0 Bern

Aberdeen

Enschede

Mannheim

City

Figure 7.2 Organizational resources by city: budget and staff.a Note a Without outliers.

128 Hanspeter Kriesi allow for a comparison between our six cities with respect to budget and staff. The first part of the figure presents average budgets. On average, the Swiss city of Bern turns out to have the financially most powerful associations. At the other end of the scale, we find Sabadell and Aalborg – the Spanish and Danish cities respectively. While the relative lack of financial resources of the Spanish associations comes as no surprise – it is completely compatible with the picture of a weak associational system we get from the comparative survey data – the even greater lack of resources of the Danish associations is very surprising in the light of the membership figures. Surprisingly, too, is that the associations in the Dutch city of Enschede are not exceptional from the point of view of their resource endowment. Together with Mannheim and Aberdeen they take an intermediary position. It could be hypothesized that the reason why the Danish have relatively poorly endowed associations is because they organize in a more decentralized way than the citizens in other countries. Indeed, as we have seen in previous chapters, the number of associations in Aalborg is relatively high, almost three times as high as in Sabadell. But if we calculate the overall budget of the whole local associational systems, it turns out that the Danish find themselves still at the low end of the scale. This can be seen from the second part of Figure 7.2. Based on the overall budget, it is Mannheim that is the outlier: its associational system has more resources than that of any other city. The order of magnitude of the funds at the disposition of this system is interesting as well: it amounts to roughly 200 million Euros a year, about four times as much as the funds available to the associations in Aalborg. Taking into account that Mannheim is bigger than the other cities – it is almost two and a half times as large as Bern, the smallest city in our set of six, this result is not particularly surprising. The third part of Figure 7.2 presents the average number of staff of the local associations. Once again, it is Sabadell and Aalborg which differ from the rest: the Spanish and Danish associations not only have less money, they also have less staff than the associations in the other cities.

Task domain: associational activities and sectors The domain which an association stakes out for its activities constitutes a second determinant of its resource endowment. The domain determines upon whom the organization is dependent and the amount and kind of resources it needs for the accomplishment of its tasks (Thompson 1967: 25–38). For the definition of the task domain we rely on the typology of associational activities that has been introduced in Chapter 5. With respect to this typology, we may note that the provision of services and representation are tasks which imply the delegation of some tasks to staff personnel or transitory teams, while mobilization and activation directly rely on the participation of (most of) the members. This allows us to formulate the following hypothesis: domains involving delegation need more

Organizational resources 129 financial and personnel resources than domains without delegation. Except for the execution of tasks by transitory teams of members, delegation requires the execution of tasks by hired personnel, which, in turn, requires financial resources. Moreover, services tend to require more resources than representation, since the service task tends to be more labour-intensive. Representation is typically delegated to small teams, while the scope of the service task is a function of the size of the constituency and the number of the clients to be serviced. Figure 7.3 presents the results for these two hypotheses. They are presented in two parts – one each for the average budget and for the average number of staff. No distinction is made here between the cities – assuming for the time being that task requirements are functionally the same in all localities5. The results basically confirm the two hypotheses, although they allow for some differentiation. It is above all in the service domain, where we find the most resourceful associations. As far as representation is concerned, associations mainly active in this domain tend to have few staff members, and relatively little financial resources. We also find that the associations in the residual category (‘other-multiple domains’) closely resemble those in the service domain. These results do not, however, convey the entire magnitude of the differences in resource endowment between task domains. The reason is that the outliers which were excluded from the present analysis mainly belong to the categories of services and representation. Including them for a moment gives a better idea of the real differences which exist between the associations involved in tasks that imply delegation and associations involved in tasks without delegation. The first part of Figure 7.4 presents these differences. As this figure shows, including outliers increases the average budget in the service domain by a factor of 16, and in the representation domain by a factor of 3.5, while it hardly has any effect at all on the other two domains. A similar, although somewhat less spectacular effect can be observed with regard to staff. This indicates that professionalization is essentially characteristic of services and representation. Activation and mobilization, by contrast, are much less affected by this phenomenon. To the extent that these results confirm the two hypotheses, they also serve as an additional empirical validation of the typology of associational activities presented in Chapter 5. Having said this, not all associations in the domains of service and representation are resource rich, and not all associations in the activation and mobilization domains are resource poor. The second part of Figure 7.4 presents the shares of associations in the four domains with more than a minimal infrastructure – i.e. a budget of more than 10,000 euro and at least one part-time staff member. According to these figures, the differences between the domains are less impressive than they appeared in Figure 7.3. On the one hand, roughly one-half of the service associations do not have any staff at all or do not have more than a minimal budget. On the other hand, approximately one-third of associations in the

a) Financial resources: average budget (in 1,000 euro) 250

In 1,000 euro

200 150

100

50

n io Ac tiv at

M ob iliz at io n

M ai nt en an ce

tip le R ep re se nt at io n

O

th

er

-m ul

Se rv ic e

0

Domain

b) Personnel: average number of staff (full- and part-time) 7

Number of staff

6 5 4 3 2 1

M ob iliz at io n Le is ur esp or ts

M ai nt en an ce

R ep re se nt at io n

O th

er

-m ul

tip

Se rv ic e

le

0

Domain

Figure 7.3 Organizational resources by task domain (activities).a Note a Without outliers.

Organizational resources 131 a) Average financial and personnel resources by task domain (activities): budget (in 1,000 euro) and staff (number of persons employed) Service without

with outliers

Activation without

with outliers

Budget

231

3,737

60

67

Staff

7

31

2

3

Representation

Mobilization

Budget

99

357

63

105

Staff

4

32

2

2

Budget in 1,000 euro, staff: full- and part-time personnel b) Share of associations with more than minimal budget and with some staff by task domain (activities) (%) Service

Activation

Budget

51%

36%

Staff

48%

19%

Representation

Mobilization

Budget

39%

26%

Staff

23%

21%

Budget of more than 10,000 euro and at least one part-time staff member

Figure 7.4 Resources by task domain.

activation domain and around a quarter in the mobilization domain have more than a minimal budget, and about one-fifth of these associations have at least one part-time staff member. In other words, each of the four associational domains has a highly heterogeneous composition with respect to the amount of available resources. The variation within the task categories is, in part at least, a function of the more specific tasks of the association. This becomes apparent when we break down the four task domains into the more specific sub-domains composing them. Figure 7.5 presents the details for the variation with regard to financial resources. In the service domain, there is a big difference between associations occupied with ‘services to others’ and all

Domain

M ob iliz at io n

Lo bb yi ng

Ad vo ca cy

R ep re se nt at io n

In 1,000 euro

to

So ci al

to ot he rs

in te gr at io n

ac tiv iti es

m em be rs

Ad vi so ry

Se rv ic e

Se rv ic e

In 1,000 euro

Service

400

300

200

100

0

Domain

Representation/mobilization

140

120

100

80

60

40

20

0

Organizational resources 133 Activation

80 70

In 1,000 euro

60 50 40 30 20 10

So ci al iz in g

Se lfhe lp

R ec re at io nsp or ts

0

Domain

Figure 7.5 Organizational resources by task domain (activities): details.1 Note 1 Without outliers.

the other service associations. On average, associations providing services to others have more than twice as many financial resources than associations providing services to members. But note that even the least resourceful service subdomain has, on average, more financial resources at its disposal than any other subfield in the other three main domains. Within representation, big differences exist on average between lobbying and representation (in the narrow sense of the term). Similarly, we also find large differences within mobilization between advocacy and mobilization. Finally, in activation, clubs in ‘recreation and sports’ are more than five times as resourceful as clubs in ‘socializing’. The variation within task categories is also a function of the different associational sectors (see Chapter 4). Sectors differ quite generally with respect to their resource endowments, as can be seen from the first part of Figure 7.6. For the sake of brevity, this figure looks at personnel resources only. Associations in general welfare, group-specific welfare and in ‘new politics’ are by far the most personnel intensive. This is, of course, related to the fact that the associations in these sectors are heavily involved in service delivery (see Chapter 4). But this is not the whole story, since associations in the family sector and in the sector of religion also are heavily

Note 1 Without outliers.

Sp or ts C ut ltu ‘N re C ew om ’p m ol un iti cs ity co nc er ns R el ig io n

G en er al w el fa G re ro up P -s ol iti pe cs ci fic Ec w el on fa om re ic in te re st Fa m ily

Number of staff

Sp or ts R el ig io n C ul tu re

ily

s

ic

Fa m

Po lit

G en G er ro al up w -s el pe fa re ci fic w el fa ‘N re ew ’p Ec ol on iti om cs C i c om in m te un re st ity co nc er ns

Number of staff

ily Sp or ts R el ig io n C ul tu re

Fa m

G en G er ro al up w -s el pe fa ci re fic w el ‘N f ew are ’p O ol th iti er cs co Ec n on ce om rn C om s ic m in te un re ity st co nc er ns Po lit ic s

Number of staff a) All tasks

12 10 8 6 4 2 0

Sector type

b) Service tasks 14 12 10 8 6 4 2 0

Sector type

c) Representation tasks 14 12 10 8 6 4 2 0

Sector type

Figure 7.6 Personnel resources by task domain and sector type (average number of staff1

Organizational resources 135 involved in such activities. As it turns out, however, service tasks do not seem to involve the same amount of personnel resources in all the sectors: as can be seen from the second part of Figure 7.6, the average amount of personnel for associations that are mainly involved in service delivery varies considerably from one sector to the other, with family and religion being much less well endowed than general welfare, group-specific welfare and ‘new politics’.6 Analogously, the amount of personnel also varies between sectors with respect to representation. The associations involved in representation from the general welfare and politics sectors have, on average, much more resources than the associations with the same tasks. For the remaining two main tasks – activation and mobilization – which generally involve less resources, sector-specific differences are less pronounced.

Size Size is a third factor which may be expected to contribute to the amount of resources of an association. We measure size by a single indicator – the total number of members. The expectation is that the amount of resources of an association increases with its size as measured by the number of members. Two mechanisms are thought to be at work here. First, members – even passive ones – contribute membership dues, which provide the association with financial resources that, indirectly, allow for the extension of its staff. Second, the larger the number of members, the more resources will be needed for their administration. The first part of Table 7.3 presents bivariate correlation coefficients between the two indicators for financial and staff resources and size for all of our cities taken together (excluding outliers). As the table shows, the two correlations concerned are positive, but very small. At first sight, the effect of size on the amount of resources appears to be weak. More detailed analysis show that this relationship is weak across all major task domains. Table 7.4 presents analogous correlation matrices separately for each city. As this table shows, size seems to be more influential for resource levels in Sabadell and Aalborg – the two cities where the associational systems can count on the least amount of resources. This is to suggest that size in terms of membership is above all an important determinant of the resource levels for those associations, which have little resources and mostly depend on their members for obtaining resources.

External sources The reason why size is, at first sight, relatively unimportant for explaining the amount of resources of an association may, indeed, be a consequence of one of the two trends described in the introduction. To the extent that associations develop and become independent of their members, size measured in terms of members can no longer be expected to have any

0.45 0.03 0.11 0.10 0.13 0.01 0.08 0.06 0.08 0.08 0.12 0.01 0.06

Staff

0.04 0.01 0.02 0.02 0.06

Total no. of members

Note a Without outliers; all coefficients >0.04 are highly significant (p < 0.001).

Budget Staff Total members % dues % services % government Diversification Age

Budget

0.23 0.30 0.23 0.13

% dues

0.07 0.08 0.01

% services

Table 7.3 Correlations between resources and independent variables (excluding outliers)a

0.08 0.10

% government

0.07

Diversification

Organizational resources 137 Table 7.4 Correlations between resources and independent variables, by city (excluding outliers) Budget

Staff

Total members

% members

% services

Bern Budget Staff Total members % dues % services % government Age

0.46 0.04 0.17 0.17 0.19 0.07

Aberdeen Budget Staff Total members % dues % services % government Age

Age

0.06 0.16 0.15 0.16 0.02

0.08 0.01 0.01 0.07

0.27 0.29 0.22

0.05 0.09

0.14

0.46 0.01 0.10 0.23 0.17 0.16

0.12 0.09 0.17 0.16 0.01

0.11 0.03 0.03 0.01

0.15 0.28 0.13

0.05 0.04

0.13

Enschede Budget Staff Total members % dues % services % government Age

0.47 0.04 0.13 0.01 0.23 0.01

0.03 0.14 0.05 0.20 0.01

0.19 0.03 0.17 0.22

0.29 0.35 0.15

0.12 0.05

0.08

Mannheim Budget Staff Total members % dues % services % government Age

0.48 0.04 0.12 0.06 0.15 0.09

0.04 0.02 0.02 0.07 0.08

0.02 0.03 0.00 0.14

0.22 0.23 0.18

0.03 0.05

0.04

Sabadell Budget Staff Total members % dues % services % government Age

0.51 0.12 0.01 0.11 0.03 0.17

0.15 0.05 0.14 0.14 0.14

0.09 0.04 0.05 0.20

0.28 0.34 0.03

0.10 0.01

0.12

Aalborg Budget Staff Total members % dues % services % government Age

0.41 0.33 0.02 0.07 0.08 0.17

0.12 0.03 0.11 0.03 0.16

0.02 0.05 0.11 0.31

0.21 0.42 0.06

0.08 0.08

0.07

138 Hanspeter Kriesi impact on the amount of resources available to the association. External resources from third parties, the income from the sale of goods and services, from donations and fundraising or from an umbrella association may, instead, explain the amount of resources at the disposal of an association. As our data indicate, local associations are only partially dependent on their members. The share of the budget financed by membership dues amounts to 38 per cent only. In other words, almost twothirds of their budgets are financed by external sources. Table 7.5 shows that the shares provided by the membership vary considerably between six cities: associations in Aalborg are most dependent on their members. This ties in with the above observation that membership size is most closely linked to resource levels in the case of Aalborg. For one reason or another, Aalborg seems to be the city where local associations resemble most the ideal-type of small and resource poor. In Sabadell, associations are also resource poor, but the extent to which they rely on membership dues is slightly below average. By contrast, associations in Aberdeen are least dependent on their members and most dependent on external sources. Not only the relevance, but also the kind of external support to local associations varies from one city to the other. Government support is relatively important in Enschede, Sabadell and especially Aalborg, while the associations in Bern, Mannheim and, above all, in Aberdeen more heavily rely on private support through fundraising, donations or the sale of their services. This becomes apparent in Figure 7.7. In Enschede, the associations rely heavily on ‘other’ sources as well. As argued above, professional associations are likely to be relatively independent of their members – they are following a ‘logic adapted to their task-specific environment’ – while ‘membership associations’ should be 40 Government Other external

35

Percentage

30 25 20 15 10 5 0 Bern

Aberdeen

Enschede Mannheim City

Figure 7.7 Profile of external sources per city.

Sabadell

Aalborg

92.2 (443–459)

26.0 11.9 12.4 9.8 7.3 5.2 17.2

Aberdeen

98.2 (724)

39.8 13.9 7.5 16.8 11.0 5.2 3.9

38.1 7.3 17.4 8.2 6.6 8.5 3.1

Mannheim

96.8 (1,280–1,379)

Enschede

96.9 (294–349)

36.1 16.6 10.6 7.8 10.3 2.5 6.7

Sabadell 43.7 16.0 2.5 3.4 5.0 4.9 3.5

Aalborg

92.6 (854–1,023)

Note a The percentages do not add up to the total in each column; the total is not 100%, because of errors of reporting.

92.9 (655–671)

36.8 9.8 6.6 12.2 12.8 5.2 2.3

Members Government Donations Other Sales of services Umbrella Fundraising

Total N

Bern

Source

Table 7.5 Financial sources per city: average percentages per city and sourcea

95.1 (4,419–4,499)

38.1 11.6 10.0 9.3 8.3 6.0 4.9

All

140 Hanspeter Kriesi rather membership dependent. We expect, in other words, an inverse relationship between the share of the budget financed by membership dues and the amount of budgetary and staff resources. By contrast, the shares of an association’s budget financed by government grants and by selling services and goods should be positively correlated with the amount of resources. The notion of institutional isomorphism provides an explanation for why government grants should mainly go to the professional associations (DiMaggio and Powell 1983). According to this notion, governments should mainly support associations with operating procedures similar to their own, i.e. professionalized associations which have already attained a certain level of resourcefulness. Conversely, associations which seek support from government have, according to the principle of institutional isomorphism, first to adapt their operating procedures to those of government offices. As can be seen from Table 7.3, the overall correlations between the share of the budget financed by membership dues and budgetary and staff resources are, indeed, negative. Figure 7.8 illustrates these relationships in more detail. It shows that, on average, the associations that do not depend on membership dues – approximately one-third of all associations in our inventory – have by far the most financial and personnel resources at their disposal. While associations that predominantly rely on membership dues – about a quarter of all associations – have the least amount of resources. Table 7.4 includes these corresponding correlations for each city. They are generally larger than the overall average, except for Sabadell and Aalborg, where no relationship seems to hold between membership dependence and the amount of resources at the disposal of the local associations. Figure 7.9 illustrates these city-specific relationships for staff resources. By contrast, dependence on external resources is positively related to an association’s amount of resources. This applies to selling goods and services to constituents or other clients and to government grants. Table 7.3 again provides the correlations for the overall relationship, Table 7.4 presents the corresponding details for each city. We note that government support increases the level of personnel and financial resources in all cities except Aalborg and (partially) Sabadell. Actually, in Sabadell and Aalborg, where associations are generally resource poor, more associations receive government support than elsewhere (47 per cent and 44 per cent respectively, compared to an overall average of 30 per cent). As we already know from Table 7.5, the budget shares attributable to government grants are particularly high among the associations in these two cities. But contrary to other cities, external support by government grants does not go together with an increase in associational resource levels. In other words, in these two cities, government support is relatively evenly spread and compensates for the relative lack of other sources of income. Selling goods and services increases the level of resources in all cities except Enschede and Mannheim. To obtain a summary measure for the association’s independence on

Organizational resources 141 a) Financial resources 300

In 1,000 euro

250 200 150 100 50 0 0

25%

75%

75%

Percentage membership dues

b) Staff 10 9

Number of staff

8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 0 0

25%

75%

75%


Figure 7.8 Resources by dependence on membership dues (averages).

any single source, we have calculated a measure for the diversification of the associations’ resources which corresponds to the Laakso and Taagepera (1979) index of the number of effective parties in a party system and is defined as: N 1/∑ si2 where si is the share of the budget financed by the i-th source. According to this indicator, half of the associations (53.1 per cent) rely on only one

142 Hanspeter Kriesi a) Following the general pattern 18 16

Number of staff

14 12

Bern

10

Aberdeen

8

Enschede

6

Mannheim

4 2 0

25%

0

75%

75%


b) Deviant patterns 18 16

Number of staff

14 12 Sabadell Aalborg

10 8 6 4 2 0

0

25%

75%

75%

Total


Figure 7.9 Staff by dependence on membership dues, per city.

source, one-third (32.9 per cent) on two sources, one-ninth (10.6 per cent) depends on three and a small minority of 3.4 per cent on four or more sources. There are significant, but limited differences in this regard between the cities and between the task domains. With regard to task domains, the most diversified domain – surprisingly – is the activation domain. Representation is least diversified. As far as the organizations dependent on one single source are concerned, they depend on the following sources:

Organizational resources 143 members government donations services umbrella fundraising other total

% 51 11 11 7 7 4 9 100 (n 2,071)

This means that approximately a quarter of organizations depend on members only, and a roughly equal share on external sources only. The rest of the associations depend on a mixture of internal and external sources. Table 7.3 shows the diversification of financial sources in general is not conducive to increasing the amount of resources of either kind: the corresponding correlations are virtually equal to zero.

Age As outlined in the introduction to this chapter, older and more established associations should exhibit a greater degree of professionalization and be more resourceful. They develop according to the old organizational model, which came to rely more heavily on professional staff. The younger associations, by contrast, are expected to conform more to the flexible, resource poor model. As it turns out, the relationship between age and levels of resources is only barely positive (see Table 7.3). While significant, this relationship is very weak. Looking at it city by city (Table 7.4), we observe that it turns out to be strongest in Aalborg and Sabadell, i.e. in the two cities where associations are most likely to resemble the traditional model of the membership association. It is especially the younger associations in these two cities which are comparatively resource poor and do not seem to have adopted the more professionalized model of organization to the same extent as the associations in the other cities.

Multivariate analysis The multivariate analysis serves to summarize and systematize the results we have obtained so far. For this analysis, we proceed in two steps. First, we present results city by city. Then we summarize them for the whole data-set, introducing dummy indicators for each city – with Aalborg as the base category. The categorical independent variables are also transformed into dummy variables – one for each domain with activation as base category, and one each for regional and national activities. We also include a dummy for services to others, which has been shown to be by far the most

144 Hanspeter Kriesi resourceful task domain. The total number of members still serves as the indicator for size. For external support, we use the budget shares of government grants and of the sales of goods and services. Finally, we also introduce the indicators for diversification and age. The dependent resource levels are, as already mentioned above, transformed into logarithmic scales, in order to prevent the outliers from completely determining the shape of the relationships7. Tables 7.6 to 7.8 present the results in the form of standardized regression coefficients – given the logarithmic scales, unstandardized coefficients would have been difficult to interpret. Let us first look at the results city by city. Depending on the city and the type of resource, we explain between one-fifth and almost one-third of the variation in the resource levels by our set of predictors. Overall, the causal pattern is the same for both types of resources. For both of them, external support is crucial – both in the form of the sale of goods and services and in the form of government grants. The greater the share of the budget that is financed by these sources, the greater the overall level of resources available to an association. Controlling for the other factors, this relationship even holds to some extent for Sabadell (in the case of staff) and Aalborg (in the case of financial resources). It is especially strong in Bern, Aberdeen and Enschede. As far as governmental support is concerned, we would like to point out self-critically that the argument pertaining to institutional isomorphism introduced above implies that the relationship between resource levels and governmental support may be reciprocal rather than simply recursive as is assumed by the current model. Whatever the form of this relationship, however, the present result is important enough to suggest that the associational life at the local level is – for better or worse – inevitably intertwined with governmental policies and politics. As such it serves as a confirmation of the institutional analysis of civic life by Skocpol and her collaborators (2000). In addition, we may note that it is also dependent on the capacity of associations to fund themselves independently of the state by selling goods and services to clients and constituencies. However, diversification of sources is not generally helpful for the development of an association’s resource levels. Only in the two cities where associations have the least amount of resources – Sabadell and Aalborg – does diversification contribute to increasing the amount of financial resources. Controlling for the other factors, the task domain remains important, too, with the service domain sticking out as the one which attracts by far the most resources – independent of all the other factors. There are, however, unexpected exceptions to the general pattern, which suggest that the functional logic implied by each task does not necessarily require analogous amounts of resources. On the one hand, Aberdeen and Enschede are exceptional, since the service domain does not seem to be more resourceful in these two cities. On the other hand, associations delivering services to others turn out to be particularly resourceful in two cities only:

0.28 (460)

R2 adjusted N 0.21 (231)

0.06 0.04 0.04 0.06 0.09 0.04 0.01 0.08 0.10 0.07 0.38*** 0.01 0.24***

Aberdeen

0.27 (583)

0.02 0.04 0.02 0.00 0.14*** 0.05 0.06 0.35*** 0.23*** 0.10** 0.23*** 0.00 0.09*

Enschede

Notes a Except for the Swiss national associations which do not actually belong to the file. b Levels of significance: * 0.05; ** 0.01; *** 0.001.

0.06 0.12** 0.11* 0.12** 0.08 0.11* 0.03 0.15*** 0.22*** 0.11* 0.28*** 0.01 0.05

Regional National Services Services to others Multiple-other Representation Mobilization Size (members) % members % services % government Diversification Age

Bern

0.24 (1,020)

0.07** 0.12*** 0.14*** 0.05 0.03 0.00 0.08** 0.15*** 0.14*** 0.18*** 0.13*** 0.05 0.20***

Mannheim

Table 7.6 Determinants of financial resources: multiple regressions on logs of budget, for all associationsa,b

0.29 (190)

0.14* 0.08 0.19* 0.07 0.11 0.06 0.00 0.20** 0.02 0.02 0.08 0.23*** 0.27***

Sabadell

0.30 (569)

0.03 0.07 0.05 0.05 0.01 0.13** 0.07* 0.45*** 0.09 0.17*** 0.12* 0.14*** 0.09*

Aalborg

0.28 (460)

R2 adjusted N 0.27 (583)

0.06 0.02 0.04 0.05 0.17*** 0.03 0.04 0.20*** 0.15*** 0.08* 0.31*** 0.03 0.07

0.05 0.03 0.10 0.11 0.08 0.07 0.02 0.26*** 0.03 0.26*** 0.42*** 0.05 0.07 0.21 (231)

Enschede

Aberdeen


0.04 0.08 0.12** 0.17*** 0.07 0.15*** 0.03 0.13** 0.11* 0.13** 0.31*** 0.05 0.02

Regional National Services Services to others Multiple-other Representation Mobilization Size (members) % members % services % government Diversification Age

Bern

0.24 (1,020)

0.07* 0.08** 0.08* 0.07 0.00 0.01 0.04 0.20*** 0.07* 0.15*** 0.16*** 0.05 0.13***

Mannheim

Table 7.7 Determinants of staff resources: multiple regressions on logs of staff, for all associationsa,b

0.29 (190)

0.04 0.04 0.09 0.23** 0.12 0.03 0.00 0.29*** 0.07 0.16* 0.17* 0.11 0.16*

Sabadell

0.30 (569)

0.01 0.02 0.15** 0.14** 0.01 0.03 0.04 0.28*** 0.09 0.05 0.04 0.02 0.13**

Aalborg

Organizational resources 147 Table 7.8 Determinants of personnel and financial resources: multiple regressions on logs of budget and staff, for all associationsa,b

Bern Aberdeen Enschede Mannheim Sabadell Regional National Services Services to others Multiple-other Representation Mobilization Size (members) % members % services % government Diversification Age R2 adjusted N

ln budget

ln staff

0.12*** 0.08*** 0.01 0.07** 0.00 0.05** 0.08*** 0.11*** 0.06** 0.07*** 0.07*** 0.05*** 0.09*** 0.11*** 0.13*** 0.17*** 0.06*** 0.17***

0.05* 0.03 0.08*** 0.04 0.02 0.04* 0.06*** 0.10*** 0.07*** 0.07*** 0.05** 0.00 0.14*** 0.06*** 0.13*** 0.23*** 0.00 0.11***

0.20 (3,058)

0.16 (3,058)


in Sabadell in terms of staff and in Bern in terms of both staff and budget. For the other task domains, the results do not present a clear-cut pattern. The third important determinant is size. Size turns out to be more important than it appeared at first sight in the bivariate analysis. We find that the total number of members generally is a strong determinant of both types of resources. It now appears that in the bivariate analysis the effect of size was suppressed by the fact that task domain and external sources both are associated with resource levels, but unrelated to size (see Table 7.4). Controlling for these factors brings out the impact of size. The exceptional situation in Aalborg is confirmed here: the logic of membership is particularly strong in this Danish city, where the total number of members contributes most strongly to both types of resources. This analysis also indicates that, in terms of financial resources, membership size is least important for associations in Aberdeen, which confirms the previous finding that, for funding, the Scottish associations depend least on their members. By contrast, size is important for staff resources in Aberdeen just as everywhere else, which is to say that the amount of staff, much more than the amount of financial resources, is functionally dependent on the number of members.

148 Hanspeter Kriesi Fourth, age has a considerable impact as well. Controlling for all the other factors, older associations tend to be more resourceful. Again, this relationship comes out more clearly in the present analysis than in the bivariate one. Thus, in all cities, younger associations tend to get more support from the government than older ones (Table 7.4). Controlling for this countervailing impact allows the impact of age to come out more clearly. There is only one exception to the generally positive relationship between age and resource levels: Bern. Finally, associations with a regional and national scope of activities tend to be somewhat more resourceful than purely local ones everywhere except in Aalborg. The differences with purely local organizations are, however, generally quite small. If we now turn to the integrated analysis, these results are confirmed in a more summary fashion. Overall, the external sources are the most important determinants of both types of resource levels, followed by size, task domain, age and territorial scope. Controlling for all these factors, some limited variation between the cities is left over, as is shown by the effects of the city indicators. Independently of the causal factors analysed here, the Swiss associations tend to be particularly well resourced. Similarly, the Dutch associations have more staff than all the others, and the German and Scottish associations more financial resources. The other differences between the cities which we have observed in Figure 7.2 can, however, be explained by the causal factors discussed in this chapter.

Consequences: levels of activity What kind of impact do associational resources have on the level of activity in the associations? The expectations are contradictory: on the one hand, just as we have argued in the case of members, both activists and volunteers make financial contributions and require an administrative effort. Which is to say that we might expect a positive correlation between levels of resources and levels of activity. On the other hand, we may also entertain an alternative hypothesis: there might be an inverse relationship between the amount of resources and the number of active members and volunteers, at least with respect to personnel. But possibly also with respect to financial resources: active members and volunteers, it could be argued, fulfil the same functions as professional personnel and limit the need for additional resources quite generally. Summarized in a nutshell: while professional associations rely on staff, membership associations rely on active members and volunteers. These expectations can be tested by considering the relationship between volunteer and activist ratios, on the one hand, and resource levels on the other. The two ratios are independent of the association’s size and give us an idea of the level of activity in a given association. We propose to consider first the bivariate correlations between these indicators, leaving open the direction of causality connecting them for the moment. The

Organizational resources 149 Table 7.9 Correlations between resources and involvement, per city a) Volunteer ratios City

Budgeta

ln budget

Staff

Bern Aberdeen Enschede Mannheim Sabadell Aalborg

0.04 0.18*** 0.09* 0.02 0.07 0.03

0.10* 0.18*** 0.18*** 0.01 0.06 0.02

0.10* 0.18*** 0.11** 0.01 0.01 0.01

City

Budgeta

ln budget

Staff

Bern Aberdeen Enschede Mannheim Sabadell Aalborg

0.00 0.01 0.01 0.01 0.10 0.10**

0.03 0.03 0.06 0.03 0.11 0.14***

0.02 0.06 0.02 0.03 0.06 0.03

ln staff 0.13*** 0.21*** 0.18*** 0.01 0.13 0.06

b) Activist ratios ln staff 0.02 0.03 0.04 0.00 0.02 0.11***

Note a Without outliers.

results, which are presented in Table 7.9, correspond to the contradictory expectations. As far as activist ratios are concerned, there are no significant correlations at all, except for Aalborg. In the Danish city, the higher the resource levels, the higher the share of activists among the associations’ members and vice versa. As for the volunteer ratios, we find significantly positive correlations in Bern, Aberdeen and Enschede, but no relationships in the other cities. Even the correlations we do find between resource levels and levels of activity might be spurious, however. They may be a result of the mode of financing, which is closely connected to the resource levels, as we have seen before. If levels of activity were to be particularly high in membership associations, we would expect to find a positive relationship between activity levels and the share of the budget financed by membership dues, since membership associations primarily depend on membership dues. Conversely, we would expect to find negative relationships between activity levels and the diversification of financial sources, since the latter is a sign of the association’s independence from its members. State promotion may also contribute to activity levels, if the state acts as a catalyst for the mobilization of volunteers and activists in the way suggested in the introduction. Testing these expectations provides again contradictory results, as is shown in Table 7.10. This table presents the results of a multivariate regression analysis trying to explain volunteer and activist ratios in our six

150 Hanspeter Kriesi Table 7.10 Resources as determinants involvement, per citya,b a) Volunteer ratios Bern ln budget ln staff % members % services % government Diversification R2 adjusted N

Aberdeen Enschede

0.06 0.11 0.01 0.03 0.07 0.02 0.25*** 0.18* 0.36*** 0.02 0.00 0.10* 0.04 0.14* 0.06 0.04 0.02 0.20*** 0.05 (426)

0.10 (190)

0.17 494)

Mannheim Sabadell Aalborg All 0.04 0.34 0.04 0.32 0.36*** 0.03 0.01 0.04 0.01 0.02 0.16*** 0.15 0.12 (952)

0.01 (56)

0.02 0.02 0.05 0.01 0.05 0.27*** 0.02 0.02 0.15** 0.05** 0.03 0.12*** 0.02 0.08 (518) (2,641)

b) Activist ratio Bern ln budget 0.12 ln staff 0.09 % members 0.11 % services 0.07 % government 0.03 Diversification 0.01 R2 adjusted N

0.00 (429)

Aberdeen Enschede

Mannheim Sabadell Aalborg All

0.14 0.11 0.07 0.01 0.02 0.07

0.04 0.01 0.03 0.07 0.03 0.01

0.06 0.01 0.03 0.02 0.01 0.07*

0.10 0.16 0.15 0.11 0.01 0.29**

0.00 (212)

0.00 (498)

0.00 (956)

0.06 (126)

0.10* 0.06** 0.04 0.01 0.08 0.01 0.05 0.02 0.07 0.04* 0.08 0.02 0.02 0.00 (552) (2,774)


cities by the resource levels and by the mode of financing. Table 7.10 shows that, in some cities, we account for some part of the volunteer ratios by the mode of financing. But the results are contradictory, since both the effect of dependence on membership dues and the effect of diversification of sources are negative. Therefore, we cannot conclude that membership associations are in any way more conducive to volunteering than professional associations. However, these results are clear in one respect: once we control for the mode of financing, levels of resources are no longer related to levels of activity in any of our six cities. The bivariate relationships we found for volunteer ratios in Table 7.9 turn out to be spurious, indeed. Moreover, these results provide some support for the notion that government support may promote volunteering: this is particularly the case in Aalborg and in Aberdeen. As for activist ratios, our regression analyses hardly explain anything at all. If anything, there is a tendency for associations with more money to be more activist, but this tendency is at best very weak.

Organizational resources 151

Conclusion The present analysis has largely been exploratory and has confirmed the impact of two complementary tendencies. We have found the expected highly unequal distribution of resources in the local associational world. The bulk of the resources is concentrated in the hands of very few associations, while the large majority of the local associations only have limited resources. These highly variable resource levels can to some extent be explained by five aspects of the associations: their territorial scope, size, task domain, age, and, above all, their mode of financing. External sources have been shown to be of particular importance in the present context. To develop their resource base, associations need to find financial sources outside of their membership base. As they get additional funds from the state or from other private sources such as donators or clients of the goods and services they provide, associations can enlarge their resource base and professionalize. As we have seen, the resource base of local associations remains least developed in Spain and Denmark, for reasons which are still not entirely clear. It appears, however, that to a greater extent than elsewhere the more recently founded associations still follow the traditional organizational model of membership associations instead of adopting the professional model. Finally, the present analysis has shown that the resource base of local associations is largely unconnected with the level of activity deployed. This ‘non-result’ is again a consequence of the two contradictory trends and has quite important implications. Essentially it means that small and traditional is not necessarily beautiful in the world of local associations. The membership associations with limited resources are by no means more likely to promote volunteering and activism than the professional associations with large outside funding. The relationship between resource and activity levels is much more complicated in the (local) associational world that is captured by the two complementary master trends of professionalization and individualistic involvement.

Notes 1 Schmitter and Streeck (1981) made a distinction between the ‘logic of membership’ and the ‘logic of influence’ for the analysis of business interest associations. The ‘logic adapted to the task-specific environment’ is an attempt to generalize the ‘logic of influence’ to other types of associations. 2 Suspecting that the Swiss data include some such associations, we have inspected the Swiss organizations one by one and found more than 80 associations that are primarily national in scope, almost all of them located in Berne. 3 There are no such outliers in Denmark and Spain. 4 Figures given are without controls. Controlling for important individual characteristics (age, education, marital status, gender and religion) does, however, not change the relationship between the extreme cases. 5 This assumption holds only approximately: an analysis of variance including all

152 Hanspeter Kriesi cities reveals that the interaction term task*city is not significant for financial resources (F 1.422, 25 df, s 0.08), but somewhat significant for personnel resources (F 1.658, 25 df, s 0.02). 6 It is rather strange that several ‘new politics’ associations are specialized in services, but that is the way it is. There also are two very resourceful ‘new politics’ associations specialized in representation – one from Enschede and one from Mannheim, which we excluded from the present analysis, because they were clear outliers. In addition, we also excluded two general welfare associations specialized in activation from Enschede, because they were also clear outliers. 7 The subsequent analyses have also been performed with the untransformed resource levels, excluding variable numbers of outliers. These analyses produced more or less the same results, but the results presented here turn out to be the most clear-cut.

8

Networking among voluntary associations Segmented or integrated? Sonja Zmerli and Ken Newton

Introduction That society is composed of complex layers of overlapping and interlocking social relationships is said to be an important source of its stability and integration (Simmel 1955: 140). What is important, so the argument goes, is a set of close and intense personal relations with family and friends, and a looser and wider web of social networks that spans the larger groups of society. The first create strong ties of thick trust in small communities, and the second weaker ties in wider society. In this way large scale urban society is integrated by strong primary relations and by a broader but weaker network of relations that cut across and integrate a diversity of social groups (Granovetter 1973). The importance of inter-woven social networks applies as much to organizations as individuals: individuals are integrated into personal networks of friends, families, neighbours and colleagues; social groups and voluntary associations are integrated into organizational networks that spread across social groups in the local community, and extend upwards into an organizational hierarchy of national and international associations. However, while the importance of the web of group affiliations is well understood and studied from the individual point of view, it is largely unexplored at the organizational level. Social science knows a good deal about the sorts of people who join organizations, how many and what kind they join, and the consequences of such membership for political attitudes and behaviour. The great richness of individual survey data, however, contrasts with the black hole that surrounds our knowledge of inter-organizational networking and contacts on the part of both voluntary associations and business organizations (Sydow 1998: 31–63; Lelieveldt 1997: 183; Lane 1998: 2).1 In a long review (Laumann et al. 1978: 477) of the literature on inter-organizational linkages in the community, it is admitted that ‘Nowhere do we find measures based on actual data pertaining to recorded levels on interorganizational linkage or exchange from which network properties of interorganizational systems can be derived.’ In other words, there is a

154 S. Zmerli and K. Newton paucity of knowledge about organizational links and networks. The concern of this chapter is with the extent to which voluntary associations create an inter-organizational network, and with the extent to which these organizational networks are contained within social groups or span them. The focus of the chapter is on voluntary organizations precisely because their voluntary basis gives them special significance. We are born into a nation state and a family, and most of us are obliged to work in an economic organization to earn a living, but we have a free choice when it comes to joining a voluntary association. Hence they have a unique place in society, one that is fully recognized by the pre-eminent place given them by theories of pluralist and mass society, civil society, and social capital.

Voluntary associations and social cohesion: theory and evidence Many theorists have argued that voluntary associations help to integrate society and contribute to its cohesion and integration. Some 60 years ago Arthur Schlesinger Sr (1944) claimed that voluntary organizations help to integrate American society and defuse some of its tensions. After a postwar wave of research in the 1950s and 1960s, David Sills (1968) concluded that voluntary associations integrate groups, especially minority groups, into wider society. David Horton Smith (1966) argued the same and Arnold Rose (1967: 250) also claims that voluntary organizations help ‘to tie society together and to minimize the disintegrative effects of conflict’, so helping to maintaining social cohesion and equilibrium (see also Ross 1977). These writers are mainly concerned with the US, but Kenneth Little’s (1965) classic study of West Africa also singled out voluntary organizations for their ability to integrate changing societies (see also Johnson 1975). In short, voluntary organizations, it is claimed, have all sorts of beneficial effects for social cohesion by virtue of the overlapping and interlocking networks they create. It is also noticeable, however, that this is primarily a theoretical claim. Empirical studies of inter-organizational networking, although there are few of them, tend to be less positive. In rural France, for example, Berger’s work (1969) found that members of farming co-operatives were discouraged from political activity outside their immediate society, so maintaining the isolation of the community in wider society. Similarly, Young and Larson’s study (1965) of a small town in New York State found that high status associations linked the community to the wider society by virtue of their integration into national organizations. Low prestige groups were more marginal and isolated. A possible explanation for this finding is provided by research on Finland that finds organizational networking is dependent on group resources: older, larger, and wealthier groups are more closely integrated

Networking among voluntary associations 155 (Hallenstvedt et al. 1976). In Britain, the group resources of money, members, paid staff and access to decision makers also determine the local political role and type of political activity (Newton 1976; Newton and Morris 1975), a finding that was replicated in Norway (Hansen and Newton 1985). Further evidence of the exclusionary rather than integrative role of voluntary associations is provided in a study of voluntary associations in West Africa, which, in contrast to Little’s conclusion, finds that they do little to integrate newcomers into urban areas, partly because of economic problems of resettlement, and partly because the very social networks that could integrate newcomers tend to exclude them (Barnes 1975). The same was found in a study of ethnic associations in Canada (Radecki 1976). It is, of course, common to argue that the world of voluntary associations reflects the class and power relations of wider society (cf. Schattschneider 1960), but the observation is important for our present concerns because it means that the networking capacity of groups may be limited, especially their ability to cross important social divisions. Recent research on groups in two British cities suggests that there are limits to the networking and social capital building capacities of voluntary organizations insofar as both are facilitated by small, face-to-face relations between organizations with shared values, norms and expectations (Smith et al. 2004). The dilemma is that small and closed networks are better at building trust, social capital and effective working relations than large and inclusive ones. At the same time, exclusion tends to breed suspicion on the part of those excluded. Other writers have also observed that there are limits to the inclusiveness of associative democracy (Immergut 1998: 204; Streeck 1998: 185–6). Spatial factors also seem to limit the capacity of groups to span and integrate communities. In Lincoln, Nebraska, many associations are organized around small areas and neighbourhoods, few stretching across larger geographical areas and helping the integration of communities as a whole (Babchuck and Edwards 1965). Politics can also discourage connections between formal organizations (Turk 1970; 1979). Olsen’s (1974) comparison of groups in Sweden and the US finds that voluntary organizations often avoid political activity, partly because this complicates life for the organization, and partly because individual members do not want to get involved. As a result there may be a tendency for non-political groups to separate from political ones. In recent years, social capital theory stresses the issue of the ‘dark side’ of social capital as well as its benefits by pointing out that while some organizations may bridge social cleavages, and hence help to integrate social groups, others may bond within groups and reinforce such cleavages (Putnam 1995a; 1995b; 2000). Horizontally ordered groups and associations that are inclusive (sports clubs, choral societies, birdwatching associations, mutual aid societies, co-operatives and cultural associations)

156 S. Zmerli and K. Newton can help social integration and cohesion by creating social networks among different social types. Hierarchically organized (the Catholic Church) or exclusive groups (a dining club for upper-class men) are more likely to create particularized trust that characterizes in-group solidarity and out-group hostility. In conclusion, the literature on voluntary associations has rather little to say about inter-organizational networking, as opposed to individual networking. What little research there is, however, tends to divide between theoretical and empirical work. The former tends to emphasize the integrative functions of the web of group associations. The latter has found that class, ethnic, territorial, and political considerations can reinforce the insularity of groups, and limit the extent to which they create an organizational network that help to integrate society. Social capital theory picks up this theme when it distinguishes between ‘good’ and ‘bad’ social capital created by bridging and bonding organizations and their effects of reinforcing or cross-cutting social cleavages. The recent revival of interest in voluntary associations has been mainly concerned with individuals (see Mutz 2002a; 2002b), and as Lelieveldt (1997: 183) writes, ‘While there is generally no lack of data on the participation of individuals, information about the activities of organizations is much more scarce’ (See also Laumann et al. 1978: 456). There have been some useful historical and theoretical work (Clark 2000; Warren 1999) and a large quantity of empirical research on individual members, but little on organizations. In this study we explore the extent to which clubs, societies and voluntary associations of all kinds create an inter-organizational network. Are they inclusive (open) or exclusive (closed) in their membership? Do they establish relations and links with other organizations? Do they network across a variety of group activities, or are their organizational links confined to their own sort of organizations? In short, do groups establish relations and links with a range of other organizations with different activities and different types of membership, or, on the contrary, do they confine their activities to their own areas and their own interests?

Inclusiveness and exclusiveness: membership, gender, and ethnicity Our first measure deals with the inclusiveness and exclusiveness of voluntary associations – are associational activities restricted to members and therefore to certain kinds of people, or open to all?2 A high degree of organizational openness and inclusiveness suggests a capacity for bridging across social boundaries, but exclusiveness indicates a greater capacity to bond. The results presented in Table 8.1 show quite a high degree of organizational openness. In all the cities similar percentages of between 42 per

Networking among voluntary associations 157 Table 8.1 Organizational openness to non-members (%) N

City

Yes

Enschede Bern Aberdeen Mannheim Aalborg

42 43 47 51 54

817 665 433 1,587 906

Weighted mean

48

4,408

Table 8.2 Organizational openness to non-members by sector (%) N

Sector

Yes

Politics ‘New’ politics General welfare Religion Other concerns Culture Group-specific welfare Family Sports Economic interest Community concerns

74 67 57 56 55 50 49 46 42 39 34

72 27 125 225 1,072 336 254 132 583 101 158

Weighted mean

50

3,085

cent and 54 per cent open their activities to non-members. Across more than 4,400 associations in five cities, there is almost a fifty/fifty split between the relatively open and relatively closed. This may be regarded as a comparatively high degree of openness. Correlation analyses of Aberdeen, Enschede, Mannheim and Aalborg also suggest that an association’s openness to non-members is a function of its main sources of income. In every town, except Mannheim, the more a group depends on membership fees for its income, the less open it is towards non-members, and in every town, including Mannheim, the more an organization depends upon selling goods and services the more open it is.3 Table 8.2 breaks down the organizations by type of activity and shows that political and new political groups are the most open. Sports, economic and community groups are among the least open. Not surprisingly, family and group specific welfare organizations are also fairly closed. There are, perhaps, good reasons why political organizations should be open if they try to attract a large number and wide variety of people, but the finding is significant for reasons that will become clear as the chapter develops.4

158 S. Zmerli and K. Newton Table 8.3 looks at openness and closedness with respect to gender. We are interested here in formal membership barriers, rather than the people who exclude themselves for a lack of interest in group activities. For example, it may be that men are more interested in golf than women, but barring women from golf clubs is a different matter. In modern society it would be surprising indeed if a high proportion of voluntary associations were men or women only, but some organizations may well appeal to one sex rather than the other, particularly certain sorts of sports clubs. This could be important given that sports clubs nearly always constitute the highest proportion of all voluntary associations.5 Therefore, we expect a proportion of voluntary associations to be single-sex, but no more than a small proportion, and for these to be limited to particular sections of the associational world. Table 8.3 shows this to be the case. Most cities have rather few organizations with less than 10 per cent female members. Even so there are quite substantial cross-national differences, with the Scots and the Spanish being the most open, and the Swiss, Dutch and Germans the least. However, it appears that there is still a male bias to the voluntary association world. Summing the first two columns in Table 8.3 shows that nearly half or more of the associations in Aalborg, Bern, Mannheim and Enschede have fewer than 50 per cent female members. The associations in Aberdeen and Sabadell are more balanced in this respect, but it is also noticeable that they have the largest proportions of associations that are exclusive to women. Table 8.4 breaks down organizational sectors according to male and female membership. Once again, we find that economic organizations and, to a lesser extent, sports clubs are less open and more heavily male dominated. As we know, politics is male dominated while religion attracts more women. This is shown in the fact that more than half the political associations have a majority of male members, compared with less than 21 per cent of the churches. No less than 70 per cent of the sports clubs and

Table 8.3 Share of female members in associations by town City

None or less than 10%

Less than 50%

About 50%

More than 50%

Almost only women

N

Aberdeen Sabadell Aalborg Bern Mannheim Enschede

15 16 23 25 31 31

15 24 23 26 24 23

26 27 29 22 19 25

27 18 19 19 17 14

17 15 7 8 9 6

419 287 795 587 1,456 610

Weighted mean

26

23

24

18

9

4,154

Networking among voluntary associations 159 Table 8.4 Share of female members in associations by sector Sector

None or less than 10%

Less than 50%

About 50%

More than 50%

Almost only women

N

Politics Religion ‘New’ politics Group-specific welfare Culture Family Community concerns General welfare Other concerns Sports Economic interest

8 10 11 16 19 20 21 24 27 36 53

50 11 29 16 20 8 26 15 20 37 30

32 33 29 30 30 28 37 20 23 15 10

7 36 23 29 26 30 14 26 16 9 3

4 10 9 9 5 15 3 15 14 3 5

93 255 35 253 386 132 148 125 1,106 680 101

Weighted mean

25

23

24

19

9

3,314

82 per cent of the economic interest groups are predominantly male. In general, religious organizations, group-specific welfare associations and family groups have the largest proportions of female members.6 A third measure of social exclusiveness is the percentage of ethnic minorities among the membership of voluntary associations. This measure is important because ethnicity is potentially one of the most divisive cleavages in society, and group membership must, by definition, span social cleavages to be of the bridging rather than the bonding kind (Putnam 2000: 22ff). The ethnic compositions of the six cities are crucial in this regard, since a city with no ethnic minorities has no need to integrate them into its voluntary associations. Aalborg, Aberdeen and Sabadell have very small foreign populations (Aberdeen is 98.5 per cent white), but Bern, Enschede and Mannheim have ethnic populations of 16 per cent or more (see Chapter 2). In Bern, the minorities are mainly EU citizens, especially from Southern Europe, whereas in the other two cities the Turkish minority is the largest one. Table 8.5 suggests that Enschede and Mannheim have difficulties in integrating their minorities into the group world. On the one hand they have quite large ethnic minorities, on the other, a large majority of their voluntary associations have no ethnic minority members, or very few. They also have rather relatively few ethnic minority associations.7 Table 8.6 repeats some of the patterns already observed: political groups, sports organizations and particularly new political groups are the least exclusive so far as ethnic minorities are concerned, although the new political groups also have the highest percentage of ethnic minority only groups as well. Surprisingly, many religious associations have no ethnic minorities, but quite a high proportion of exclusively minority groups.

160 S. Zmerli and K. Newton Table 8.5 Share of ethnic minorities in associations by town (%) City

None

Less than 10%

More than 10%

Almost only minorities

N


59 41 35 42 55 66

37 52 44 45 33 31

3 7 18 12 10 3

1 0a 3 1 2 1

763 370 553 568 1,456 219

Weighted mean

50

39

9

2

3,929

Note a The percentage share of associations with almost only ethnic minorities in Aberdeen amounts to 0.3%.

Table 8.6 Share of ethnic minorities in associations by sector (%) None

Less than 10%

More than 10%

Almost only minorities

N

‘New’ politics Politics Sports Religion Family Other concerns Group-specific welfare Economic interest General welfare Community concerns Culture

22 41 41 44 50 51 52 53 58 59 59

31 52 50 44 33 37 42 40 25 29 32

36 6 9 8 15 10 6 8 12 13 7

11 1 1 5 2 2 0 0 4 0 2

36 88 649 244 131 1,046 238 93 114 143 358

Weighted mean

49

40

10

2

3,140

The same is true of general welfare organizations. The religious and welfare sector seems, therefore, to show a comparatively strong tendency to segregate along ethnic lines. As noted before, group-specific welfare organizations, economic interest groups and community concerns associations are the most closed, with a high proportion of exclusive associations but no minority groups.8 Also cultural groups seem to be fairly closed towards ethnic minorities who tend to establish their own ethnicity-based associations.

Inter-organizational networking It is known that there are a huge number and a great diversity of voluntary associations in the urban areas of Western societies, but we know rather

Networking among voluntary associations 161 little about their involvement in inter-organizational networking. It is clear that some organizations – the peak or umbrella type - are created in order to integrate and coordinate their member associations. They are found particularly in the sports, welfare, business, trade union and religious sectors of the associational world. By definition umbrella groups make up a very small proportion of all associations since they are set up to coordinate a large number of other groups – one Sports Federation to coordinate many hundreds of sports clubs, for example. The question is: how much networking do groups of all kinds engage in? Table 8.7 shows the percentage of groups having contacts with other voluntary organizations, and the number of such contacts. On average more than half (58 per cent) in all the cities have contacts with other associations, but this ranges from rather more than half in Mannheim (54 per cent) to almost three-quarters (74 per cent) in Sabadell, with most cities in the 55–59 per cent range. Most organizations have a limited number of such contacts. The weighted mean in all six cities is 1.2, and with Sabadell, once again, at the top of the table, and Aalborg, Aberdeen and Mannheim having the lowest number of contacts. The proportion of groups with contacts by sector, and the weighted mean number of contacts by sector (Table 8.8) show that politics and new politics groups are most involved in networks, and that group-specific welfare, economic and family groups the least. Sports associations are the most self-contained, and they constitute quite a large proportion of the total.9 Looking at the broad picture, the figures suggest quite an extensive network of inter-organizational activities. There are so many voluntary associations in the six cities that the 58 per cent of them with inter-organizational contacts constitutes well over 2,775, or an average of 462 in each city – not a trivial number. For example, in Aalborg, which is fairly typical, 55 per cent of the 960 organizations that answered the question reported that they had contacts with other organizations, which means that slightly

Table 8.7 Inter-organizational contacts (%) City

Contacts

■

Mean number of contacts

Yes

No

N

Mean

Std. dev.

N

Mannheim Aalborg Enschede Aberdeen Bern Sabadell

54 55 57 59 65 74

46 45 43 41 35 26

1,589 0,960 0,747 0,480 0,665 0,344

1.1 1.1 1.4 1.1 1.3 1.6

1.4 1.3 1.5 1.4 1.4 1.4

1,432 914 740 391 602 314

Weighted mean

58

42

4,785

1.2

1.4

4,393

162 S. Zmerli and K. Newton Table 8.8 Contacts with other associations by sector (%) and mean number of contacts with other associations by sector Sector

Some contact

N

Mean

Std. dev.

N

Politics ‘New’ politics Culture General welfare Community concerns Other concerns Religion Group-specific welfare Family Economic interest Sports

82 67 63 60 59 58 58 55 55 54 54

100 43 432 145 183 1,311 276 301 163 133 718

2.1 1.8 1.4 1.5 1.4 1.2 1.2 1.2 1.2 1.3 1.0

1.5 1.6 1.4 1.6 1.5 1.4 1.4 1.4 1.4 1.5 1.2

92 42 405 134 172 1,229 250 272 154 125 659

Weighted mean

58

3,805

1.2

1.4

3,534

more than 500 organizations in that city were involved in networking activities. If one allows for the fact that not all voluntary associations responded to the survey, then the general picture is of an extensive network involving several hundred groups in each city. At the same time it is also true that the mean number of contacts with other organizations was barely more than one in Aalborg, and 1.2 across all the cities. This suggests a broad but not a dense network of groups. An overall impression of how groups lie on our two dimensions of openness–closedness and networked–not networked is presented in Figure 8.1. The classification is rough and ready because groups are not always consistent about their inclusiveness and exclusiveness. For example, some sports groups are fairly open to ethnic groups but closed to women. The integrated and isolated types in the cells of Figure 8.1 are of most interest since integrated groups seem to offer the best possibilities for networking, and these include political and new political groups, and the isolated types seem more likely to bond. The fact that more than two-thirds of the political and new politics groups are networked is significant. According to Tocqueville (1969: 189–95; 520–4), political associations have pride of place among the organizations of civil society. He dwells at length upon the theme, and in doing so touches on many ideas about the number of associations, their size and range of members, and about the capacity of political associations to break down the natural barriers of generation, ideology, and class (see also Sabl 2002: 4): Civil associations pave the way for political ones, but on the other hand, the art of political association singularly develops and improves this technique for civil purposes . . . politics spread a general habit and

Networking among voluntary associations 163

Networked

Not-networked

Inclusive/open (participation, gender, ethnicity)

Integrated organizations Politics, new politics, culture, general welfare groups

Inclusive but not integrated Sports (high share of ethnic minorities), religion, family and group-specific welfare (high share of female members)

Exclusive/closed

Exclusive but integrated Community concerns

Isolated organizations Economic interest, groupspecific welfare, sports (low share of non-members and female members)

Figure 8.1 Inclusive–exclusive and networked–not-networked groups

taste for association. A whole crowd of people who might otherwise have lived on their own are taught both to want to combine and how to do so. Politics not only brings many associations into being, it also creates extensive ones . . . A political association draws a lot of people at the same time out of their own circle; however much differences in age, intelligence, or wealth may naturally keep them apart, it brings them together and puts them in contact . . . So one may think of political associations as great free schools to which all citizens come to be taught the general theory of association. (Tocqueville 1969: 521–2) Tocqueville, of course, was writing about nineteenth-century America, but our findings suggest that his claims still apply to contemporary Europe, insofar as its political associations are more open to a wide range of different social types than most other kinds of voluntary organizations, and are also better at making organizational connections with other associations. Chapter 5 classifies voluntary associations into five categories according to their main type of activity. These activities are, first, distinguished by their instrumental activities, i.e. attaining a specific goal, or by their organizational maintenance activities. While the activities of organizational maintenance need no further differentiation instrumental activities can be, second, assigned to policy-orientated ones on the one hand and to clientorientated activities on the other. In addition, the realm of instrumental activities can be divided into those being delegated to professional staff and activities that are performed by the members themselves. The five categories which result from these distinctions are maintenance, representation (policy-orientated with delegation), mobilization (policy-orientated

164 S. Zmerli and K. Newton Table 8.9 Mean number of contacts with other associations by type of activity of voluntary associations Type of activity

Mean

Std. dev.

N

Mobilization Service Representation Other/multiple Activation Maintenance

1.6 1.5 1.3 1.3 1.0 0.9

1.4 1.5 1.4 1.4 1.3 1.3

240 850 623 574 1,285 202

Weighted mean

1.2

1.4

3,774

without delegation) service (client-orientated with delegation), and activation (client-orientation without delegation). The networking propensities of these types of activities is shown in Table 8.9. It is significant that organizations most centrally concerned with mobilization are the best networked. Presumably, policy-orientated activities which are not delegated depend upon open or inclusive structures that are well linked with other organizations.

Networking, volunteers and activists Why do some groups network more than others? Previous research (Galaskiewicz 1979: 86; Newton 1976; Hansen and Newton 1985) finds that group resources, especially money, membership size, and status in the community are crucial for networking and political activity. These are probably inter-related insofar as the more members a group has the more money it is likely to be able to collect in donations and membership fees; the more members it has, the more time (collectively) it is likely to have to network and the greater the membership overlap between it and other groups; and the more members it has the greater its community status (and vice versa, perhaps). In Table 8.10 inter-organizational contacts are presented by the mean numbers of volunteers and activists10. Volunteers are members who are mobilized on behalf of the goal-specific interests of the association whereas activists represent members who are active within the scope of the group. Table 8.10 suggests that volunteers are important for networking, activists less so. The larger the number of volunteers the more likely a voluntary association is to be engaged in voluntary association networks. This applies across five of our six cities. Only Aalborg and Aberdeen reveal significant differences in the amount of activists. A similar pattern is depicted by the correlation results presented in Table 8.11. Except for Sabadell, in each and every European town the number of volunteers is positively related to maintaining interorganizational contacts. The relevance of the amount of activists for networking, however, is only stressed by Aalborg and Aberdeen.

Networking among voluntary associations 165 Table 8.10 Inter-organizational contacts by mean number of volunteers and activists City

Volunteers

■

Activists

Contacts

No contacts

N

Contacts

No contacts

N


35*** 45** 34** 40* 23*** 17

14 17 14 24 12 9

818 419 656 743 1,565 331

116* 110*** 119 79 72 94

91 62 101 72 61 67

878 455 656 743 1,563 331

Weighted mean

31

15

4,447

71

4,639

89

Notes * Significant at the 0.05 level, two-tailed test. ** Significant at the 0.01 level, two-tailed test. *** Significant at the 0.001 level, two-tailed test.

Table 8.11 Correlations between the number of inter-organizational contacts and the number of volunteers, and number of activists (Pearson’s r) City

Volunteers N


0.20*** 0.16** 0.14** 0.10*** 0.10*** 0.05

781 339 602 736 1,412 302

■ ■

Activists N 0.12** 0.25*** 0.06 0.03 0.04 0.04

839 369 602 736 1,410 302

Notes * Significant at the 0.05 level, two-tailed test. ** Significant at the 0.01 level, two-tailed test. *** Significant at the 0.001 level, two-tailed test.

Tables 8.12 and 8.13 push the analysis a little further by means of logistic regression of a wide variety of organizational characteristics on interorganizational contacts, including group characteristics and resources (number of volunteers, activists, share of female and ethnic minority members), and the main activities of the organization. Table 8.12 shows that only the number of volunteers and activists, the organizational openness to ethnic minorities, and whether it is a family, sports, cultural, political or economic organization are significantly related to networking activity. Family, sports and economic groups are significantly less likely to network: cultural and political groups are significantly more likely to network. Political groups are notably stronger networkers.

166 S. Zmerli and K. Newton Table 8.12 Inter-organizational networking, logistic regression Predictor

Odds ratios

Volunteersa Activistsa Female membersa Ethnic minoritiesa Family Sports Culture Community Politics New politics General welfare Group-specific welfare Economy Religion

1.47*** 1.14** 1.00 1.25*** 0.65* 0.74** 1.40* 1.13 2.72*** 1.37 1.20 0.89 0.63* 0.83

Notes a Odds ratios based on standardized independent variable. * Significant at the 0.05 level, two-tailed test. ** Significant at the 0.01 level, two-tailed test. *** Significant at the 0.001 level, two-tailed test. Factor change in odds of networking versus not-networking, N 2,862; omitted category: other concerns.

Table 8.13 Inter-organizational networking, logistic regression Predictor

Odds ratios

Volunteersa Activistsa Female membersa Ethnic minoritiesa Representation Service Activation Maintenance Mobilization

1.32*** 1.08 0.98 1.17*** 1.19*** 1.72*** 1.08 1.09 1.54***

Notes a Odds ratios based on standardized independent variable. *** Significant at the 0.001 level, two-tailed test. Factor change in odds of networking versus not-networking, N 3,590; omitted category: other/multiple activities.

Table 8.13 re-runs the logistic regressions but using the classification of groups developed in Chapter 4. It confirms the importance of volunteer numbers, and ethnic minorities, and of the new classification of groups; representation, service and mobilization are significant. These results suggest that it is not just organizational resources that affect networking

Networking among voluntary associations 167 propensity, but the type of activity a group is involved in. Some domains of voluntary activity seem to be self-contained, others seem to call for group networking to a limited extent.

Crossing boundaries: networking within and across group segments A degree of social integration can be achieved by groups networking with the same sorts of organizations as themselves. For example, a football team playing matches against teams in other clubs, or churches linking with the same church in another community, or one community group dealing with another. However, a stronger form of social integration will be achieved by groups crossing boundaries and networking outside their own immediate activity – community groups connecting with welfare groups, cultural groups linking with welfare organizations, parties linking with community or parent–teacher associations. This sort of networking is likely to reach beyond the immediate concerns of particular activities and improves the chance of networking across social divides. There is little information about this form of inter-organizational networking but what little there is suggests that it is not common. Community studies in Britain show how local associations tend to be isolated within their own organizational networks. A study of the small town of Glossop, with almost 100 voluntary associations, concludes that the general picture is of a community in which spare-time interests now do relatively little to bridge the gap between classes . . . the community is less unified than it was in the past. (Birch 1959: 40–1) Another study of Newcastle-under-Lyme (Bealey et al. 1965, 362–5) shows how the local Labour movement is a tight network of individuals who are members of the Co-operative Society, Old Age Pensioners Association, the British Legion (ex-servicemen’s organization), workingmen’s clubs, the Workers Educational Association and the Borough Labour Party. This densely overlapping and interlocking set of voluntary associations was dominated by working-class, white, Christian/secular, middleaged, socialist men. There were many inter-organizational links and a good deal of bonding between socialist brothers, but the evidence shows little bridging across the confines of the labour movement. Similarly, the middle-class Conservatives had their own separate network of organizational memberships, which overlapped a little but not much with other networks. The Liberal network showed most signs of integration into a broader set of associations, overlapping to some extent with the Labour one (common membership of the WEA) and the Conservative net (Rotary Club).

168 S. Zmerli and K. Newton A third study of Banbury (Stacey 1960: 38–50) confirms the finding that each of the three main parties were closely tied into its own network of voluntary associations, and that each network was isolated from the others to a great extent. The Conservatives were connected to the Church of England, various business, sports and cultural clubs. As it happens, the Conservative network also extended to the local bowling club, the 1960s being an era in Britain when people bowled together on bowling greens, not ten-pin alleys. The Labour movement had its largely separate web of group affiliations involving the Party, trade unions, nonconformists churches, friendly societies, and sports clubs. The Liberals also had their distinctive array of social connections, but as in Newcastle, had more overlap with Labour and Conservative ones. The picture from these three studies, as well as some of the empirical work summarized in the opening section of the chapter, suggests a series of rather closely integrated networks of group memberships, stratified by class and status, and fairly isolated from each other. If the group world is a small world, it is because associations tend to establish links with their own kind, so that the networks are largely segmented according to type of activity, but tend not to cross social boundaries. In this sense, the evidence suggests organizational bonding between associations with the same kind of activity, which creates networks that have rather little connection with the wider group world. Networking is, in other words, largely segmented. However, the evidence for this conclusion is based largely on individual not organizational studies. In this study we have evidence of what sorts of links associations create with other associations with different activities, but only for the cities of Aalborg and Bern. Since they seem to be fairly typical of most of our cities it is worth examining the information to see what light it can shed on segmented or cross-cutting connections (Tables 8.14 and 8.15). Group networking within the same area of activity will be called ‘segmented’ – i.e. where sports clubs relate to other sports clubs, religious organizations to other religious organizations, and so on. Networking across activities – sports clubs with religious organizations – will be termed cross-cutting. Tables 8.14 and 8.15 show a high degree of segmented inter-organizational networking. In Bern nearly eight out of ten group interaction is segmented. Since 62 per cent of groups in Bern are involved in interorganizational networking of any kind in the first place, this means that fewer than 14 per cent of all groups in the city engage in cross-cutting networks. The pattern is less clear in Aalborg, but even so it confirms the tendency to network within segments. As many as 44 per cent of networking is cross-cutting but since little more than half of all groups are engaged in any kind of networking at all, barely more than one-fifth (21 per cent) have cross-cutting links with other groups. Tables 8.14 and 8.15 also rank different types of organizations according to their segmented and cross-cutting links. In Bern, political

Networking among voluntary associations 169 Table 8.14 Groups with no important partner, with segmented links, and with cross-cutting links, by sector, Bern (%) Groups

All associations

■

Segmented Cross- No N links cutting important links partner

Networking associations Segmented Cross- N links cutting links

Community concerns Religion Politics ‘New’ politics Family Culture General welfare Group-specific welfare Other concerns Economic interest Sports

87 77 60 60 57 56 50 48 46 43 33

9 8 20 30 7 13 0 17 15 29 8

4 15 20 10 36 31 50 35 39 29 58

23 91 13 91 15 75 10 67 14 89 32 82 4 100 29 74 111 75 7 60 84 80

9 9 25 33 11 18 0 26 25 40 20

22 11 12 9 9 22 2 19 68 5 35

Weighted mean

49

13

37

342

21

214

79

organizations and new political organizations outrank most of the other associations, both for the extent of their networking and for the extent of their cross-cutting networking, both of which are well above the mean for all organizations. Nevertheless, although parties and new parties in Bern are well networked, most of this (60 per cent in both cases) is segmented rather than cross-cutting (20 per cent and 30 per cent respectively). Things are slightly different in Aalborg, however, where the political parties are better networked than most other groups (80 per cent), but quite heavily segmented. In Aalborg only 7 per cent of the parties have cross-cutting links, political parties rank on top of those associations which network within their own segment. These findings are consistent with the British conclusion that parties, though comparatively well networked, are mainly involved in segmented rather than cross-cutting inter-organizational relations. The Bern data confirm our earlier conclusion that sports, family, community concerns, religion and culture groups are most likely to network within segments. Sports and culture organizations are important in this respect because they are a large category in Bern, as they are in many other cities. Community concern groups are also quite a large proportion of the total number of voluntary associations in Bern, and they do not network much outside their own segment. A similar pattern is found in Aalborg, where the two largest categories of associations, sports and leisure groups, are not notable for their networking activity, and still less notable for their cross-cutting networking.

170 S. Zmerli and K. Newton Table 8.15 Groups with no important partner, with segmented links, and with cross-cutting links, by main group purpose, Aalborg (%) Groups

All associations

■

Segmented Cross- No N links cutting important links partner Political parties Veterans, armed forces Motor Religious Employers Pupils, students Antenna/TV aerial Disabled Trade unions Sports Youth Leisure Humanitarian organizations Business Cultural International development/ cooperationOther Community Self-help Charity/welfare Environmental groups Pensioners, elderly Women’s organizations Lodge House owners Tenants Immigrants Co-operatives Purchasing Disease control Patients Parents Weighted mean (%-inconsistencies due to rounding)

73 67 56 55 50 50 46 44 44 44 43 30 27

7 11 0 9 0 0 18 33 29 9 21 18 27

20 22 44 36 50 50 36 22 27 48 36 53 55

27 24 24

24 28 29

50 48 48

34 75 21

18 17 17 14 13 12 11 9 8 5 0 0 0 0 0 0

35 29 33 29 25 24 22 27 15 22 0 0 0 40 52 67

47 54 50 57 63 64 67 64 77 73 100 100 100 60 48 33

29

21

51

Networking associations Segmented Cross- N links cutting links

30 92 18 86 9 100 11 86 2 100 4 100 11 71 9 57 41 60 162 84 92 68 131 63 11 50

8 14 0 14 0 0 29 43 40 17 32 37 50

24 14 5 7 1 2 7 7 30 85 59 62 6

53 46 46

47 54 55

17 39 11

17 59 6 42 8 50 9 11 48 60 9 6 2 5 27 3

33 37 33 33 33 33 33 25 36 19 – – – 0 0 0

77 63 77 77 77 77 77 75 64 81 – – – 100 100 100

9 27 3 18 30 18 3 4 11 16 – – – 2 14 2

1,023

57

44

533

Networking among voluntary associations 171

Conclusions and interpretation Classic social theory argues that modern large-scale society is integrated and stabilized by a complex set of overlapping and interlocking social networks. For the most part, both the theory and evidence about networking applies mainly to individuals, and we know rather little about networking capacity of voluntary associations, or about the extent to which they create webs of relations, inter-dependencies and connectedness. The small amount of empirical research available, however, suggests that the theory rather exaggerates the importance of group networking because while some voluntary associations have contacts and links with others groups, these seem to be largely limited to the same segment of organizational activity. The results of the present research shows that the voluntary associations in the six cities seem to be relatively open to diverse membership, but not completely so. The group world continues to show a male bias to the extent that most associations in most of our cities have more male than female members, and there is some evidence of ethnic exclusiveness in that two of the three cities with substantial ethnic minorities (Mannheim and Enschede) have rather few organizations with ethnic minority members. The data suggest that inter-organizational networking is quite extensive. In the six cities as a whole, some 58 per cent of voluntary associations report contacts with other groups. On the other hand, most groups report contact with only one or two other groups (1.2 on average), so that while networking is extensive, it is not notably dense. The figures also show that the great majority of inter-organizational contacts are segmented within the same area of group activity – sports clubs tend to contact sports clubs, cultural organizations contact cultural organizations, and welfare groups contact welfare groups, and so on. This restricts the networking capacity of associations, and the ability to function as agents of social integration, insofar as they are mainly in contact with groups that have the same main activity as their own. Groups vary. The evidence suggests that political parties tend to have a relatively open membership (the internal, individual dimension) and to be relatively well connected with other groups (the external, organizational dimension). To this extent, Tocqueville’s claim that parties in mid-nineteenth-century America played the role of ‘free schools’ that teach the general theory of association, seems to apply just as well to modern Europe. Though the evidence is less clear, the findings also suggest that new political associations, cultural, and general welfare organizations are also open and networked. In contrast, economic interest groups, specific welfare groups, and single sex sports clubs, are rather more likely to have an exclusive membership and to have only limited contact with other organizations. They are more isolated, and therefore less likely to be bridging organizations.

172 S. Zmerli and K. Newton The general impression conveyed by the survey data is of segmented networks. Instead of networks extending across different activities and embracing a variety of different kinds of organizations with different purposes, they are typically contained within single areas of associational activity involving organizations with similar sorts of activities. Perhaps, in retrospect, this is not difficult to understand. Voluntary associations are not in the business of integrating and unifying society by building complex networks among themselves. Groups are created to pursue their own particular interests and they may well be self-sufficient enough to do this without the need to find partners, to link with other organizations, or to get involved in external relations. Networks can be time-consuming and expensive to build and maintain, and many groups are small, struggling and poor. And indeed, empirical results suggest that associational income is positively related to the ability or willingness to establish contacts to other organizations. In nonparametric correlation analysis every town except Sabadell reveals a significant positive relationship between income and networking.11 And last, groups may prefer to go their own way and do their own thing. They like their autonomy, individuality and exclusiveness and some are set up precisely to preserve these characteristics (Lauman et al. 1978: 468). Voluntary associations are clubs, and we should not be surprised if they are clubbish. This may be especially true of expressive groups concerned with life styles and social contacts – they play football or music, they pursue hobbies, the arts, and the sciences, they race cars, or meet for worship, and discuss novels, and they allow the young, the elderly, or minorities to meet and enjoy their own company. Such groups may not only be selfsufficient, in the sense that they do not need other groups, organizations or sections of society to do what they want, but they feel they are all the better for being composed of similar kinds of people with similar kinds of backgrounds and social characteristics. Consequently, the two types of voluntary association – sports clubs and churches – that are best placed to bridge important social differences, tend to close themselves off and become exclusive rather than inclusive. Churches are notably stratified by class and divided by race. So far as people go to a local church in their own community they are also likely to be homogeneous in terms of class and ethnicity. Sports clubs are similar. On the one hand there are middle- and upper-class sports (rowing, archery, rugby, horse riding, cricket, tennis and hockey) and working-class ones (football, darts, pool, dog and pigeon racing, body building, drag racing and boxing). The mass sports that are the most mixed socially tend to be geographically organized by local communities or places of work, so that any two clubs of the same sport are likely to have different social characteristics according to location. The suburban tennis club is likely to have members that are very different from the club on the other side of the tracks, if there is one. The country club bears little social similarity to

Networking among voluntary associations 173 the local YMCA Sports Hall. This is not to say that rules of apartheid govern sporting and religious associations, but it does suggest that expressive organizations tend to cluster around similar social types. Other groups, however, are instrumental rather than expressive. Their goal is to have an impact in the external world – to influence government, promote business or trade union interests, provide charitable services, collect money for overseas aid, and so on. To achieve their aims, such groups may have to deal with other associations, either because they have power and influence, or because they can offer resources and support. Political parties are the main voluntary associations of this kind. For some purposes they need all the members (voters) they can get and they need to attract a wide range of social types to maximize their appeal and support. They often have to look around for allies in their struggles. They must, ultimately, deal with elected representatives, government departments, official agencies and other associations supporting or opposing them. They are in and of the group world and hence they are obliged by their nature to be more open and connected. The general impression given by the survey data collected in the six cities, however, is one of a fairly extensive, but not very dense and rather segmented set of networks created within the voluntary association sector. This suggests that for all its plausibility and attraction, the theory that voluntary organizations create complex overlapping and interlocking networks of association is rather optimistic. There is a little truth in this claim, but it does not appear to be a very strong feature of the group world.

Notes 1 It is notable that Simmel’s pioneering essay concentrates almost exclusively on the consequences of individual membership of groups. He has little to say about the group level. 2 The question wording is ‘Please indicate for each group how many people are in your association/group? If you have precise figures or informed estimates please use the first column. If not, please feel free to use the suggested categories and tick the appropriate boxes’: 1. Total number of members, 2. Active members, 3. Participants (individuals taking part in the activities of your organization without being a member), 4. Paid staff (full-time), 5. Paid staff (part-time), 6. Volunteers (working more than three hours per week), 7. Volunteers (working three hours or less per week), 8. Clients (individuals who benefit from your organization without being a member). For the results presented in Table 1 the responses to the third category were analysed. This question was not asked in Sabadell. 3 These results are based on separate nonparametric correlation analyses and are not presented here. Data for Sabadell are not available. 4 These results also hold for almost every analysis by town. Political groups in Aberdeen and Aalborg, however, are not particularly open towards nonmembers. Furthermore, economic organizations in Aberdeen show a high degree of associational openness towards mere participants. Cultural

174 S. Zmerli and K. Newton

5

6 7

8

9

10 11

organizations are fairly open in Aberdeen, Mannheim and Bern. In addition, family associations are also relatively open in Enschede and in Aalborg. Only in Sabadell sports clubs are exceeded by cultural and music groups. In Aalborg 19 per cent of voluntary associations belong to the sports sector, in Aberdeen they amount to 18 per cent, in Bern to 24 per cent, in Enschede to 23 per cent, in Mannheim to 16 per cent, and in Sabadell they amount to 15 per cent (see also Chapter 3). A comparison of sector openness towards female members by town reveals that sports clubs, economic and political organizations are the most exclusive, and family and religious organizations the most open. The ethnic inclusiveness or exclusiveness is not the only thing that matters. As Fennema and Tillie (2001) point out, the interlocking directorates among voluntary associations representing ethnic minorities in Amsterdam may serve to create a civic structure and permanent communication channels between organizations. In this way, the ability of elites to behave in a consociational manner may overcome social cleavages. Nevertheless, if minority organizations communicate only or mainly with themselves, and are cut off from wider society, then civil society is likely to be divided, and to rely heavily on the capacity of group elites to resolve conflicts. An analysis of the sectorial types by town reveals remarkable differences. Although Aberdeen shows one of the lowest percentage shares of ethnic minorities, the integrative potential of its voluntary associations is remarkable. A comparable integrative power of voluntary associations exists in Bern, too. However, the overall percentage share of ethnic minorities there is considerably higher than in Aberdeen. The overall pattern of associational openness towards ethnic minorities is also reflected by the town-by-town analysis. Political groups, ‘new’ political groups, sports clubs and religious organizations exert an important integrative influence whereas economic organizations are predominantly exclusive. However, there is substantial variation by sector in the cities. Political groups rank first in the number of contacts in all cities, except for Enschede and Bern. Economic organizations in Aalborg have a particularly high number of associational contacts, unlike other cities, and the network tendencies of community concern groups extraordinarily differ in the six cities. They rank very high in Sabadell, Enschede, Mannheim and Bern, but very low in Aberdeen and Aalborg. See Chapter 3 for a detailed presentation of the numbers of volunteers and activists by town and sectorial type. These results are based on separate nonparametric correlation analyses and are not presented here. Data for Aalborg are not available.

9

The political role of associations Herman Lelieveldt and Manuela Caiani

Introduction Any observer of local politics will not only be impressed by the lively scene that city politics often offers, but also very soon notice the dominance of groups, organizations and associations in the policy process. Thus, in the preface to his City: Urbanism and its End, political scientist Douglas Rae reveals one of the very fundamental insights he obtained from temporarily exchanging academia for a position in the city government of New Haven: The irresistible fact, which came into focus very slowly for me, was that city government is itself a very weak player in a larger system of power. The problems faced by city officials have to do with making the most of the city’s small (and fragile) power base in dealing with players as varied as airline schedulers, streetcorner entrepreneurs, union leaders, neighborhood potentates, racial spokesmen, bond rating agencies, bankers, public housing tenant leaders, criminal gangs, real estate developers, insurance underwriters, and government agencies at state and federal levels. (Rae 2003: x) Rae’s observation is remarkable because voluntary associations are noticeably absent in this virtually endless list of corporate actors that New Haven’s city government had to rely upon. And although he devotes one of the chapters in his book to an extensive description of New Haven’s civic fauna, he exclusively points to the function of these associations as connectors of people, as builders of bridging and of bonding social capital (Rae 2003: 141–82). There is no remark whatsoever about their role as participants in the political process. Rae’s observations are part of a research tradition in which voluntary associations are almost by definition seen as apolitical, and in which their relative isolation from politics is also seen as a precondition for its potential to generate trust and networks between people. This limited perspective has been heavily criticized by Skocpol who points out that in addition

176 H. Lelieveldt and M. Caiani ‘Civil society and government worked hand in hand to fashion and sustain . . . the modern welfare state’ (Skocpol 2003: 71) and pays ample attention to their role as influencers and implementers of policies. This chapter focuses on these still too often neglected political activities of associations and the institutional effects they may be able to generate (Warren 2001a, see Chapter 1 for a more elaborate explication). We will do this through an analysis of the contacts voluntary associations have with civil servants, mayor and aldermen, councillors and local political parties.1 By looking at the contacts with these four types of political actors, it becomes possible to get a more differentiated view of the precise links that exist between associations and the political system. Do the bulk of the associations indeed only rarely stay in touch with local government and fit Rae’s observations or do we see more intense patterns that would justify their inclusion as one of the key players in the political arena? Quite naturally, observing the political activities of voluntary associations brings up a whole range of pertinent questions about the dangers and benefits of organized groups being politically active. According to the traditional pluralist approach the competition of groups and organizations in several areas is expected to be a guarantee against the concentration of power and the degeneration of democracy (Truman 1951: 40; Key 1964: 150). Such groups provide essential linkages between citizens’ needs and demands and the political system (Newton 1976: 73; Dahl 1989: 295). At the same time there is by now a solid research tradition that has pointed to the unequal distribution of influence among different groups dominating the entrance of the political processes (Etzioni 1993: 217–25), as well as the problem of the selectivity in the organization of the interests (different capacities of different types of groups in mobilization and organization, see for instance Schattschneider 1960: 35; Olson 1965). Some groups will more easily organize themselves than others, for example thanks to better resources, which facilitates getting access to key decision makers (Baumgartner and Leech 1998: XV). Similarly, Warren (2001a) signals that because of the increasing differentiation process and the ongoing complexity in the new societies the proliferation of many and very different interests through private groups can produce desegregation in general terms, which can lead to situations of more political conflict, in a context where the political responsibilities are undermined. As part of the analysis in this chapter, it is therefore necessary to identify factors that may explain differences in political mobilization. We argue that associations must both have good reasons to be politically active, as well as the capacity to deploy such activities when necessary. Our empirical analysis shows that in addition to some basic level of contacting that a majority of the associations engage in, both the involvement in policy-orientated activities (representation and mobilization, see Chapter

The political role of associations

177

5), as well as financial dependency on local government, leads to higher levels of contacting. Of the different resources in particular an association’s contacts with other associations turns out to be a big and consistent positive predictor of political contacts. In other words, we find a positive relationship between the social participation and political participation of associations, something that points to the importance of an associations’ social capital for being politically active.

Explaining political contacts In identifying the forces that drive political contacts, one may first hypothesize that even the tiniest associational gripe will sooner or later lead to an association getting in touch with local government, if only to obtain a building permit for remodelling a clubhouse, or to get a street closed down for some kind of festivity. In the highly organized and densely populated cities it is almost impossible for any association not to have some contact with local government. Thus, we expect some kind of baseline level of contacts on the part of all associations. A second reason for getting in touch with local government may arise out of an explicit associational goal to influence policy-making. Such concerns may be incidental, for example when a decision of the city council affects the affairs of the association, or be of a more structural nature, in the case of interest group politics. Contacts with different branches of government are one of the most direct ways to gain access to decision-makers. Interactions with local political parties may be part of this strategy as well, albeit indirectly, because of the close links that exists between political parties and both councilmembers and members of the executive branch (mayor and aldermen). The importance of getting access for these groups was noted already by Truman (1951: 264) who argued that ‘power of any kind cannot be reached by a political interest group, or its leaders, without access to one or more key points of decision in the government’, something which was substantiated in a whole range of empirical analyses of policy-networks (Laumann and Pappi 1976; Pappi and Melbeck 1984; Laumann and Knoke 1987; Pappi et al. 1995). To determine a possible pressure group role we will look at the activities of the associations such as those that were outlined in Chapter 5. In that chapter a distinction is made between associational activities with a client- and with a policy-orientation. We expect associations that engage in either or both types of policy-orientated activities (representation and mobilization) to have a greater number of contacts than those that only engage in client-orientated activities. A third reason for staying in touch with local government may follow from an associations’ financial dependence (Hansen and Newton 1985: 17; Lelieveldt 1999: 49–51). The analysis in Chapter 7 showed that on average between 7 per cent and 17 per cent of the associational budget in

178 H. Lelieveldt and M. Caiani the various cities comes from (local) government, while for 11 per cent government is the sole patron. At one end of the spectrum there are a multitude of small associations that receive relatively small sums of money that enable them to rent office space, pay the salary of a sports trainer or stage a yearly event. At the other end we see a handful of large and heavily staffed associations that receive substantial sums of money (up to several millions of euro) for service provision: e.g. day-care services or social welfare. While the first type of associations receive governmental support because the city deems their activities valuable and worthwhile, the latter play a crucial role as public service providers and implementers of local public policies. How would such a financial dependency translate into contacts? First, for all these associations being subsidized by local government of course requires some basic administrative contacts: to transfer public funds and to monitor expenditure. Second, those associations that act as implementers of public policy will have a more intense and varied relationship with local government. Frequent contact may be required to make adjustments in the light of changing policy preferences or new insights about service provision or feedback received from monitoring an association’s activities. The simple fact of being financially dependent upon local government will generate contacts. However, where associations are in receipt of large sums of public money as policy implementers, we are to witness more intense interactions with the executive branch and city councillors. Being involved in the implementation process may extend involvement beyond the usual interaction between principal and agent, resulting in explicit efforts to change existing policies. This may very well lead to a wider range of political contacts that are part of a conscious lobbying strategy by the association. Finally, organizational sociologists have pointed out that maintaining such relationships is also a matter of organizational survival. Fostering such relations is more important if the share of an association’s income that comes from local government is large and creates resource dependency (Pfeffer and Salancik 1978: 213–14; Knoke 2001: 53–9). Summarizing, in addition to a certain basic level of the very irregular and casual contacts in which any association from time may engage, an explicit goal to influence policies and being financially dependent upon local government constitute two other reasons for maintaining contact with government. Resources Apart from having a reason to stay in touch with governments, associations also need to be able to do so. Time, skills and knowledge are essential. In his study of associational politics in Birmingham, Newton


179

concludes that ‘[M]embership, income and staff are the organizational resources most necessary to sustain a high level of political activity’. While we do not believe that income should have a direct bearing on associational activity – and also Newton (1976: 57) acknowledges that the effect is not direct – we will explain why membership size and professional staff may matter. Moreover, we argue that political activity will also be related to having contacts with other associations. Membership The relevance of membership size – that we will operationalize as both the number of passive and the number of active members of an association – derives in the first place from the expectation that representatives of bigger associations will be more inclined, and may find it easier, to get in touch with local government: membership size is an important resource in gaining legitimacy. This is clearly demonstrated in the case of local soccer clubs that find themselves in serious financial difficulties. The sheer size of the group of supporters makes it easy for the leaders to ask local politicians for support and bolsters the efficacy of the leadership making them more confident and willing to engage in political activities. A second reason why we should expect size to have a positive impact on the number of political contacts, is that members or clients may channel political demands through associations. Thus, as membership size increases, the likelihood that members will press the association to become politically active – for personal or associational related reasons – increases. Level of professionalization Having professional staff in an association is a significant organizational resource. One important aspect is that even having one person employed may very much guarantee the continuity of an association, whether such a person is directly involved in the primary activity of the association (such as a coach, musical-director or an instructor) or has a more supportive role by taking care of membership registration, balancing the books and paying the bills. In both cases associational leaders will have more time to devote to representing the interests of their organization, of course, often with the help of such professionals. Increasing staff size quite naturally increases the division of labour within an association and improves the possibilities for maintaining political contacts. Moreover, as more and more people depend for their living upon the activities of the association, we may expect more effort to be put into securing organizational maintenance. A final advantage of having people employed is that it may be very easy to contact local government or to attend meetings during office hours. Thus, we expect increasing staff size to lead to an increased level of political contacts (Newton 1976: 43).

180 H. Lelieveldt and M. Caiani Network position Membership size and the level of professionalization could be considered as an association’s internal resource. In addition, associations also have ‘social resources’: i.e. its position in the local interorganizational network. Such connections are analogous to the social networks of individuals that have shown to have positive effects on levels of political participation (Huckfeldt and Sprague 1993; La Due Lake and Huckfeldt 1998). In fact, we may consider the connections of associations with other associations to constitute an indicator of an association’s social capital. There are three reasons why we should expect these to be positively correlated to the political activity of associations. First, being connected to a greater number of associations will lead to more efficient information flows, greater knowledge and advance intelligence of possible changes (Laumann and Knoke 1987). Second, better connections are also important for mobilization (Laumann et al. 1978: 472–3; Knoke 1990: 64). The chance of being mobilized by other associations for political action, and the possibility of mobilizing others, increases. We may therefore expect a positive correlation between being connected to other associations and being connected to the political system. Finally, Galaskiewicz (1979: 29–30) has pointed out that more central organizations have an increased ability to function as problem-solvers in the local community, largely because the number of connections they have enables them to generate mutual trust between actors that may be involved in a conflict. The discussion thus far has been largely de-contextualized: in principle we would expect them to hold across the six cities and across all types of associational sectors. However, as Chapters 2, 11 and 12 pointed out from different perspectives, we should not forget that at the aggregate level the pattern of interaction may be affected by specific historical trajectories and cultural or institutional constellations, in which state-civil society relationships have developed. The explanatory factors take into account such systemic differences to some extent. For example, Salamon characterizes the constellation in the Netherlands and Switzerland as a corporatist model, which is characterized by a combination of high social expenditures and a large non-profit sector (Salamon et al. 2001). This means that we would expect a large number of associations in Enschede and Bern to be involved in implementing public policies. This in turn should lead to a greater associational reliance on governmental patronage and produce higher levels of contact. When the relative size of the non-profit sector and public expenditures are smaller, such as in Scotland and Spain, we should also expect more contacts via pressure group politics, which according to Salamon, is more prevalent in such systems. This then would be reflected by the existence of a larger number of


181

associations that mention policy-orientated activities in the case of Aberdeen and Sabadell.

Empirical results In all cities, associations indicated the frequency of organizational contacts with civil servants, members of the executive branch (except for Aalborg and Aberdeen), city councillors and local political parties. (The first four columns of Table 9.1 first give a city-by-city overview of the four types of contacts.) What is most striking is the very high level of contacting, especially compared to the results from previous studies (Hansen and Newton 1985; Lelieveldt 1999).2 A rather large proportion of the associations get in touch with one of the four political actors that we have identified. Contacts with civil servants occur most frequently, followed by those with the executive and city council (around 40 per cent), and finally local political parties (around 30 per cent). Associations in Sabadell and Aalborg are the most active in this regard, while in Aberdeen and Enschede the level of contacts is only somewhat smaller. What is also remarkable is the similar rank-order of the contacts across the six cities. A somewhat more diversified picture emerges when one observes the contacts on a sector-by-sector basis (not shown). More than 80 per cent of the politics, new politics, community and economic interest associations have any of these contacts while still somewhat more than half of the religious associations stay in touch. The sectorial breakdown also shows that ‘political’ associations have a high level of contact across the board. This can be explained by the fact that a large part of the associations in this category are political parties. These parties ‘supply’ the members of the city council and aldermen, and keep a close eye on what ‘their’ politicians do, as well as staying in touch regularly with other political parties.

Table 9.1 Proportion of associations that stays in touch with political actors

Aalborg Aberdeen Bern Enschede Mannheim Sabadell All cities

Civil servants

Executive

City council (lors)

Local parties

Any contact

74.7 55.5 67.3 64.0 61.3 76.1 65.8

– – 39.1 30.2 43.4 50.3 40.1

36.6 50.1 44.9 26.7 49.7 46.3 42.3

31.6 28.8 35.6 19.4 45.2 33.9 34.3

76.3 63.4 71.7 65.6 68.7 78.7 70.3

(4,720)

(3,147)

(4,515)

(4,470)

(4,846)

182 H. Lelieveldt and M. Caiani Structure of contacts What is apparent in all sectors is that, at the aggregate level, there is a correlation between being in touch with the different types of political actors: higher levels of administrative contacts within a sector go together with higher levels of contacts with the other three types of actors. This correlation is replicated at the organizational level with correlations (not shown) between the different types of contacts ranging from 0.49 (civil servants local parties) to 0.75 (councillors executive). Previous research on contact patterns suggests that there is a hierarchy in this contact pattern (Lelieveldt 1999: 66, 75), while contacts with civil servants occur most frequently – and often are the first point of entry (see Newton 1976: 65) – it may also constitute the only form of contact for many associations. While many associations may only stay in touch with civil servants, those that stay in touch with the executive also stay in touch with civil servants, and those that stay in touch with councillors also have contacts with the administration and the executive, but not the other way around. A so-called Mokken analysis reveals that the four items indeed form a so-called strong cumulative scale (Scalability H 0.77).3 Thus, instead of looking at these contacts separately, it is much more appropriate to convert them into a political activity score that reflects the intensity and diversity of local political contacts. This score – which runs from 0 to 8 – facilitates analyses of city-differences – once associational sector has been taken into account4 (Table 9.2). The greatest variability can be found in the sectors of: family where it ranges from 1.9 (Sabadell) to 4.4 (Aberdeen), community concerns (1.8 for Aalborg to 6 Sabadell), new politics (from 0.7 for Aalborg to 4.7 for Sabadell) and economic interest (2.3 for Enschede to 4.7 for Sabadell). Table 9.2 Mean political contact scores by sector Sector

Aalborg Aberdeen Bern

Enschede Mannheim Sabadell All

N

Family Sports Culture Community Politics ‘New’ politics General welfare Group welfare Economic interest Religion Other concerns

2.4 2.6 2.4 1.8 6.4 0.7 2.1 2.6 3.9 1.7 2.7

4.4 1.5 2.5 3.1 6.7 2.0 2.9 2.9 2.4 1.9 2.6

2.8 1.8 2.6 5.3 5.9 2.4 2.5 2.8 2.9 2.0 2.9

3.4 1.5 2.1 3.6 5.8 2.3 2.3 2.0 2.3 1.6 1.6

2.1 2.7 3.0 4.7 6.7 3.0 2.4 2.0 3.3 1.3 2.5

1.9 2.1 3.3 6.0 6.7 4.7 2.9 3.7 4.7 0.6 3.2

2.4 2.1 2.7 3.9 5.3 2.8 2.5 2.5 3.2 1.5 2.5

(165) (750) (450) (190) (100) (45) (153) (324) (136) (280) (1,369)

All

2.8

2.4

2.8

1.9

2.6

3.1

2.5

(3,883)

(842)

(382)

(407) (786)

(1,174)

(292) (3,883)


183

Reasons Tables 9.1 and 9.2 gave us the baseline for the level of contacting across cities and sectors, and showed that a majority of them get in touch with local government. Table 9.3 and Table 9.4 show to what extent such variations can be explained by the explicit intent of associations to be politically active and their financial dependency on local government. Associations with representation and mobilization as their ‘most important’ activity display higher levels of political activity than other associations, the only exception being Enschede where the associations with organizational maintenance as their ‘most important’ activity are at least as active as the policy-orientated associations. The table neatly shows that levels of political activity differ dramatically between cities, which means, for example, that in absolute terms client-orientated associations in Sabadell are almost as politically active as the policy-orientated associations in Enschede. Nevertheless, if we restrict ourselves to city-by-city analyses the expected pattern emerges: policy-orientated associations have higher scores than client-orientated associations or those for which organizational maintenance is the most important activity. As such the findings also corroborate the theoretical classification that were outlined in Chapter 5 of the different types of associational activities in the five categories. Table 9.4 shows the impact of financial dependency operationalized as

Table 9.3 Mean political contact score by most important activity Most important

Aalborg Aberdeen Bern

Enschede Mannheim Sabadell All

N

Representation Mobilization Service Activation Maintenance Other/multiple

2.7 3.3 2.8 2.7 2.5 2.3

4.9 3.1 3.0 1.6 2.0 2.2

4.5 3.5 2.9 1.8 3.3 2.8

2.5 2.3 1.8 1.4 2.5 2.1

3.7 3.2 3.0 2.2 2.3 2.3

4.7 3.5 3.9 2.4 2.9 3.2

3.1 3.2 2.9 2.1 2.4 2.4

(664) (255) (932) (1,418) (222) (649)

All

2.7

2.3

2.8

1.9

2.7

3.1

2.6

(4,140)

(909)

(397)

(435) (729)

(1,367)

(299) (4,140)

Table 9.4 Mean political contact score by local government subsidies Subsidy

Aalborg

Aberdeen

Bern

Enschede

Mannheim

Sabadell

All

N

No Yes

2.3 2.9

1.9 4.2

2.3 3.8

1.4 3.3

2.5 4.3

2.5 4.4

2.2 3.8

(3,490) (907)

All

2.5

2.5

2.6

2.1

2.9

3.4

2.6

(4,397)

(921)

(450)

(654)

(732)

(1,354)

(286)

(4,397)

(N)

184 H. Lelieveldt and M. Caiani receiving subsidies from local government. Associations that receive such funds are almost twice as active as those that do not. The exception is Aalborg where associations without a subsidy score, on average, only 0.6 lower on the contact score scale (that runs from 0 to 8) than those that received subsidies: this difference is much smaller than that found in other cities. 5 Within the group of associations that receive subsidies, the size of the association’s overall budget (measured as the log of the budget) is positively related to the political contact score. The correlation coefficient is stronger than the one relating the score to either the percentage of income that comes from local government, or the size of the subsidy.6 Resources The study of the impact of resources starts by comparing activity levels of associations according to the number of passive members. As can be inferred from Table 9.5, there is a modest correlation between the number of passive members and the local political contact score (it ranges between 0.09 and 0.26). The impact of the number of activists is positive as well, albeit somewhat smaller. Table 9.6 shows that having an employee increases the score by between 50 per cent and 100 per cent. When we place this variable in perspective by comparing it with another factor that reflects personnel resources, the number of volunteers, it turns out to have a similar impact. The correlation coefficients between the contact scores and these two resources are similar and range between 0.15 and 0.25 for the different cities.7 Finally, Table 9.7 divides the population of associations into those without and with contacts to other associations, and shows that staying in touch with one or more associations’ doubles (and in Aberdeen almost Table 9.5 Mean political contact score by membership No. of members

Aalborg

No members 3 7 20 40 75 300 500 and up All

Mannheim

Sabadell

All

N

Aberdeen

Bern

Enschede

2.9 1.5 2.1 1.9 2.1 2.5 3.1 3.7

3.4 1.6 1.4 2.1 2.0 2.1 2.9 3.6

2.7 2.8 1.9 2.2 1.9 2.0 2.5 3.9

2.5 1.9 2.0 1.3 1.3 1.8 2.0 2.5

3.1 2.8 1.9 2.0 2.5 2.5 3.1 3.9

1.1 3.4 2.0 2.4 3.0 2.5 3.4 4.4

2.8 2.3 1.9 1.9 2.1 2.3 2.8 3.7

401 86 287 832 517 760 1,245 622

2.7

2.4

2.6

1.9

2.7

3.1

2.6

4,750

956

455

654

810

1,539

336

4,750


185

Table 9.6 Mean political contact score by having employees Employees

Aalborg

Aberdeen

Bern

Enschede

Mannheim

Sabadell

All

N

No Yes

2.4 3.6

1.5 3.5

2.2 3.2

1.5 2.8

2.4 3.6

2.6 4.1

2.2 3.3

3,307 1,386 4,693

All

2.6

2.5

2.6

1.9

2.7

3.0

2.6

909

431

654

810

1,541

348

4,693

Table 9.7 Mean political contact score by network position Contacts Aalborg Aberdeen Bern Enschede Mannheim Sabadell All other associations

N

No Yes

2.2 3.2

1.2 3.2

1.5 3.2

1.1 2.4

1.8 3.5

1.5 3.6

1.6 3.2

1,955 2,358

All

2.9

2.2

2.6

1.8

2.6

3.0

2.5

4,313

900

378

594

736

1,400

305

4,313

triples) the contact score. Thus, being connected to other associations is very strongly related to being in touch with local government. The relative impact of reasons and resources As a last step in the analysis we perform an OLS regression with the local political contact score as the dependent variable. While for ease of interpretation above we often showed the effects of categorical measures of the independent variables, for this analysis we will choose the highest level of measurement available. We also include a couple of control variables to make the test of the impact of the several factors as strong as possible. Accordingly, to take into account the type of activity, we include the five variables that represent the number of activities within the five activitydomains, instead of only looking at the most important activity. This way the analysis controls for the number and the spread of activities in other domains. Financial dependency on local government is measured by looking at the percentage of the budget that associations receive from that source. Furthermore, following the results of the bivariate analysis – and to control for a possible spurious effect of budget size – we include the log of the size of the budget as a control variable. While the impact of associational size will be measured by looking at the number of passive and active members, the impact of staff will include the number of employees and

186 H. Lelieveldt and M. Caiani the number of volunteers. Finally, network position is measured as the number of associational contacts. Table 9.8 displays the results for the six cities. The explanatory power of the model ranges from an adjusted R-square of 0.18 in Aalborg to 0.40 in Aberdeen. In all cities the number of representation activities has a significant effect on the local political score, especially in Sabadell and Aberdeen where mentioning one representation activity raises the political contact score by more than a full point, while in Bern and Aalborg it is around 0.5 and in Mannheim and Enschede 0.3. In other words, being engaged in the same type of activities gives quite different boosts to the number of political contacts in the different cities. Furthermore, in all cities but Aberdeen and Sabadell, mobilization does have a significantly positive impact on the local political score, although the effects are smaller than for representation. The table also reveals that in three of the six cities activation has a significantly negative effect on political contacts. Being dependent upon governmental funds – measured as the percentage of associational income that comes from local government – also turns out to have a positive impact on political contacts, with a beta that lies between 0.12 and 0.34. Thus, the greater the proportion of the budget that comes from local government, the higher the contact level. This result is in line with resource dependency theory which predicts a stronger orientation toward the actors on which an organization is dependent as relative dependency grows. The size of the budget that was introduced as a control variable is also positively related to the contact score. Turning to resources, it becomes clear that as far as there is any membership size effect, it is the sheer number of passive members and not the extent to which an association has active members that is the crucial factor. The effect of the number of employees is smaller than that of membership size and in this multivariate context remains only significantly positive in Enschede and Bern. The most important result comes from the last variable, the number of contacts with other associations. In all cities it is a strong predictor – and in five of the six the strongest – for the local political contact score. With every extra contact that an association mentions its political contact score goes up on average by 0.3 (Bern, Enschede), 0.4 (Aalborg) or 0.5 (Sabadell, Aberdeen, Mannheim). Keeping all other factors constant, in the latter three cities an association that stays in touch with five other associations will have a political contact score that is 2.5 points higher than that of an isolated association. To conclude in a rather fashionable way: it is the organizational social capital that is most strongly connected to their contacts with the local political system, a finding that has a striking resemblance to individual level findings about the relationship between social and political participation. The above findings show that most of the factors behave in quite similar ways in different cities. Representation, financial dependency, size

0.18 624

R2 adjusted N 0.40 258

0.16* 0.15 0.04 0.11 0.31*** 0.30 476

0.14*** 0.03 0.10** 0.04 0.19***

0.19*** 0.14*** 0.04 0.07* 0.00 0.12*** 0.13***

0.30

0.92 0.26*** 0.05 0.04 0.02 0.07 0.12** 0.18***

Bern

Aberdeen

Note Standardized (Beta) coefficients, *p < 0.10. **p < 0.05. ***p < 0.01.

0.07 0.01 0.05 0.11*** 0.24***

0.14*** 0.07* 0.10** 0.04 0.04 0.16*** 0.03

0.88

Members Active members Employees Volunteers Associations contacts

Representation Mobilization Service Activation Maintenance Loc subsidy ln budget

Constant

Aalborg

Table 9.8 OLS regression results of reasons and resources on political contact score

0.34 564

0.11** 0.00 0.08** 0.02 0.22***

0.12*** 0.07* 0.03 0.12*** 0.00 0.34*** 0.14***

0.33

Enschede

0.24 1,121

0.07** 0.06* 0.02 0.04 0.30***

0.12*** 0.11*** 0.03 0.03 0.02 0.16*** 0.11***

0.17

Mannheim

0.35 191

0.15* 0.07 0.02 0.13* 0.30***

0.25*** 0.07 0.03 0.15* 0.07 0.16** 0.20**

0.00

Sabadell

188 H. Lelieveldt and M. Caiani of the budget, passive membership and contacts with other associations are in almost all cities positively related to the contact score, while the effects for mobilization, active membership and paid employees are much smaller or even absent. The size of the effects that is generated by these factors may differ considerably between the different cities, as the examples for representation and associational contacts have shown. Therefore, to identify those sectors for which the above model does not capture all variations, a second analysis was undertaken with dummy variables for the ten different sectors with religion serving as the baseline. The most important result is that for a clear majority of the sector dummies, no effects can be found, which means that sectorial differences have been captured sufficiently by the original explanatory model. Still there are a small number of deviations. Not surprisingly the sector of politics scores around three points higher than the baseline (except for Sabadell where it is only 1.2 and not significant). This simply reflects the fact that the activities of these associations almost by definition takes place within the realm of local government and politics. Furthermore in Bern, Enschede and Mannheim, community associations score around two points higher, while in the latter two cities and in Aberdeen, associations in the sector of culture score somewhat higher (between 0.6 and one points). In general however the explanatory model turns out to be sector-robust.

Conclusion The analysis has shown a remarkably high level of political contacts – even in sectors that one would regard as largely non-political. Although in certain sectors there may be considerable differences in these scores from city to city, the percentage of associations that are active is remarkably similar across the six cities. The contact structure is hierarchical and also includes the executive, city councillors and local political parties. Instead of looking at contacts separately, it is more appropriate to use them as the indicators for a single local political contact score. For a majority of the associations contacts extend beyond those with the administrative sector. Both the frequency and the structure of contacting underline the importance of the civil service as an important focus and a point of entry for contacts with government (see also Newton 1976; Zimmer 1996; Lelieveldt 1999). Moreover, this dominance is not restricted to more or less standardized interactions that are the result of being subsidized. It is clear that pressure groups routinely engage civil servants in their lobbying activities. Most of the interactions between civil society and local government take place within the confines of local administrations, while relatively few contacts involve local councillors. From a point of view of democratic accountability this situation can be problematic because it suggests that elected representatives in many cases only can rubberstamp decisions that have been worked out in more ‘closed’ arenas.


189

In explaining the level of political activity we have introduced both reasons and resources as determinants. One important line of explanation has examined the impact of the type of associational activity on political contacts. We found that the activity of representation results in higher levels of contacts, and to a lesser extent mobilization activities as well. For these types of policy-orientated activity the finding may seem appear tautological: if associations say that they want to influence politics, it is no surprise to find a higher level of contacts than if they do not. Still, there is always a difference between intentions and behaviour and the analysis shows that political intentions directly translate into contacts. We also found that the level of political contacts is lower for those associations that are (also) active in the area of activation. These types of associations should be considered to be somewhat less involved in generating the socalled institutional effects that Warren distinguishes. At the same time by relying to a greater extent on volunteers and by involving a greater share of their members as activists (see the analysis in Chapter 5), their potential to generate developmental effects should be considered to be bigger than those associations that specialize in representation or mobilization. Finally, it has been shown that the same type of activity can produce quite different increases in political contacting. In Sabadell and Aberdeen representation gives a boost to the level of political contacts, while the effect is much more modest in Enschede and Mannheim. Of all the other reasons and resources examined, being financially dependent upon local government and staying in touch with other associations turn out to be the two other important determinants of the level of political contacts. The fact that precisely these two factors emerge as important merits further discussion. In presenting our model we have very implicitly suggested that the arrow runs from reasons and resources to political contacts. However, the empirical results should make us wary of such a ‘single-directed’ explanation. In fact, the whole concept of contacts very much allows for the existence of a structural relationship that is the result of initiatives that come from, and are reciprocated by both sides. The importance of acknowledging the bidirectional nature of contacts applies especially to those associations that are involved in implementing local public policies and receive subsidies. Implementing policies is rarely done in isolation and often involves intensive consultations, not only with local government, but also other associations. In such a constellation associations and political actors sit around the same table and political actors will very often encourage inter-associational cooperation. In these constellations it is a bit artificial to treat contacts with other associations as the independent and political contacts as the dependent variable. Instead the causal arrow runs in both directions, and social contacts may be the results of political contacts as well. Whichever way one looks at it, the social and political participation of associations so to say go hand-in-hand and this has important

190 H. Lelieveldt and M. Caiani consequences for their visibility. Those organizations that are ‘socially isolated’ do not compensate for their lack of visibility through engaging to a greater extent – or at least to the same extent as their better-connected counterparts – in political contacts. Finally, the analysis has clearly demonstrated that visible organizations are not a cross-section of the associational universe. On the contrary, the most intense interactions seem to take place between socially connected, subsidized, well-funded associations and local government. A large part of these interactions concern bargaining and negotiations over relevant public policies. We should note that these associations are usually managed by full-time professionals, and if we connect this to the earlier observation that civil servants are the mostly frequented governmental actors it becomes clear that an important part of the interactions between voluntary associations and local government takes place within professionalized networks. Such a constellation may be unavoidable and necessary when it comes to working out the often complicated tasks that government and associations jointly undertake. However, there is always the risk that such professional networks become inaccessible to less well-organized interests. The one-sided composition of such networks may not only challenge the democratic legitimacy of decision-making and deliberation, but also seriously hampers the creativity in finding workable, responsive and legitimate policy solutions to many problems cities face today (Denters et al. 1999). This chapter then not only has shown that associations are important political actors that Rae indeed should have included in his list of organizations on which the city depends, but it has also made clear that there are important differences in the levels of political activity, which are primarily connected to being involved in implementing public policies. As a result we should not consider the civic fauna to be an apolitical haven, but devote as much attention to differences in political clout between associations as we would when studying any other type of organizations that try to have a say in local politics.

Notes 1 Although we are aware that contacts do not cover the whole spectrum of political activities, in the context of this chapter we will use them as the indicator of the political role of associations, not only because they are relatively the most important indicator but also for the very simple reason that these types of activities were measured in a relatively comparable fashion for all six cities. 2 Hansen and Newton report contact percentages of 29 and 63 based on two separate studies of the activities of associations in Birmingham (UK) and Tromso (Norway), while Lelieveldt noted that 35 per cent of voluntary associations in Zwolle (The Netherlands) had been politically active in the preceding months. 3 One may compare this to skills in mathematics. People who know how to take a root, most of the time also know how to divide and multiply and how to add and


4

5

6

7

191

subtract, but not all people who know how to add and subtract, know how to divide and multiply, let alone take a root. Taking roots in this example is the most difficult item (comparable to contacting parties), while adding/subtracting is the easiest (comparable to contacting civil servants). See Niemöller and van Schuur (1983) for further explanation of Mokken scale analysis. Scores have been assigned by taking adding the four contact scores and giving 0 for no contact, 1 for ‘occasional’ contact and 2 for a ‘regular’ contact. Missing values for contacts with the executive in Aberdeen and Aalborg have been replaced by the mean score for the contacts with the other three branches. These findings are replicated if we replace the overall political score by the four separate types of contacts, although the relationship between receiving subsidies and contacting is somewhat more pronounced for contacts with the administration than for contacts with the executive, city councillors and local political parties. This quite clearly reflects the existence of a base level of contacts with the administration, as soon as an association receives any subsidy from local government. In fact a positive correlation between budget and political contact score can also be found for those associations that do not receive subsidies, albeit somewhat smaller. This then suggests that associational budget constitutes another important resource, and it will be included in the multivariate analysis as a control variable for the effect of being subsidized. We also checked the correlations between the three different participation ratios and the contact scores. Except for a small positive correlation of the volunteer–employee ratio (about 0.10 for all cities except Mannheim and Enschede), most of the other correlations for both the volunteer passive ratio and the active passive ratio are negligible.

Part III

Examining context Generations, community size and culture

10 Age and generation Patterns of associational fertility and survival Sigrid Roßteutscher, Lucia Medina and Per Selle

Introduction Every day, almost every minute, associations are born, mature and survive against the odds or die. The universe of associations is in constant flux; associations come and go wandering through their life cycle in a comparable way to humans. In the associational world there are also periods with mortality rates higher than birth rates, and eras of population growth – more newborns than casualties. For humanity, the complex of age and aging can be assessed via three distinct concepts: (i) the notion of (biological) ageing, (ii) the life cycle and (iii) generations and generational exchange. These three concepts imply different ideas for the ageing process. More importantly, they also imply a different notion about the principal nature and the potential shifts in the population. The notion of (biological) aging suggests a process of continuous and gradual change of growth and decline. The notion of the life cycle, by contrast, implies the idea of several clearly demarcated eras, each of them bringing a bundle of particular responsibilities and demands which impact on an individuals’ way of life and thinking. Finally, the notion of (political) generations presents an idea of continuity and stability, with character and virtue being ‘formative’ at early moments in life. This chapter examines whether the associative patterns of fertility, ageing and mortality can be fruitfully (analogously) analysed with concepts from humanity. Second, we examine whether notions of associative age or generation can contribute to an explanation of associations’ capacity to ‘produce’ volunteers and activists? In the end, the chapter will seek to answer whether and how – through processes of ageing and generational exchange – the current ecology of associations changes and how the likely patterns and features of a future universe of associations might look. Accordingly, the chapter begins with an attempt to relate the concepts of ageing, the life cycle and (political) generations to the world of associations. Subsequently, we apply measures of age and generation to the associative data of the six European cities.

196 Roßteutscher et al.

The ageing of associations Ageing is a simple biological and gradual process of getting older – from birth to death. In the world of associations, we are thinking in terms of the moment of foundation to dissolution or disappearance. Akin to the world of humans, the time span between birth and death is variable. Some might survive only a couple of months, while others exist throughout many centuries. Why? One could argue that only those organizations survive which managed to adapt their organizational principles over time (e.g. Ilker 1988). The process of ageing thus is the art of remaining healthy and strong – of developing a way of life compatible to the changing demands in an association’s environment. In other words, we constantly observe the survival of the most flexible, and the death of organizations with rigid structures, i.e. associations with incapacity to adapt to external conditions. Theories of organizational ecology (e.g. Hannan and Freeman 1989, Singh 1990, Caroll 1984) consequently apply this basically social-Darwinist argument of the ‘survival of the fittest’. From this perspective, the associative universe of a given year is the outcome of a long-term process of selection, with only the fittest, i.e. most adaptable, still existing. As a consequence, this never-ending process of selection results in an ever-changing ecology of voluntary associations.1 Logically, the ageing argument also entails several hypotheses of organizational theory, e.g. Michel’s iron law of oligarchy (Michels 1925: 25, Alemann 1989: 164ff), the thesis of increasing bureaucratization or professionalization (Middleton 1987, 1992), hypotheses concerning a close relationship between growing age and a decreasing risk of mortality (Selle and Oymyr 1992: 159), etc. In effect all theories or hypotheses are built around the notion of ageing conceptualized as a gradual and linear process of change. A related concept is the life cycle, i.e. the idea that independent of birth epoch, individuals systematically change with maturity – not because of any biological or quasi-automatic process of ageing, but because their life situation and responsibilities change. In other words, younger cohorts are different from older cohorts not because they were socialized under different conditions (the generational argument, see below) and not because they are simply getting older, but because the life situation of younger cohorts is very different from that of middle-aged and older cohorts. The life-cycle argument does not embrace the idea of overall change because ultimately younger cohorts will – prompted by life-cycle events – repeat the course of their predecessors. Moreover, while younger cohorts age they will adopt the habits and attitudes of their predecessor cohorts. A direct application of the life-cycle argument to the universe of associations is, however, not obvious. In the life of humans, there are clearly ‘disruptive’ events (beginning school, marriage, first job, the birth

Age and generation 197 of children, retirement, etc.). It is plausible to argue that each of these events is accompanied by new demands and responsibilities – shifts in individual life circumstances which impact on individuals’ way of thinking and acting. In the life of an association there are normally no comparably decisive events. Moreover, the moments in the history of an association which might be similar to human life-cycle events – such as the exit of the founding generation, first time access to public finance, or employment of professional paid staff, etc. – are beyond the scope of this project. Unfortunately, the kind of data necessary to examine the life-cycle hypothesis – long-term panel data or at least a range of in-depth case studies – is not available. For the time being, we are thus restricted to an examination of the process of age and ageing. How? The ageing of associations: first empirical evidence Age is a straightforward function of the time of the survey (2000 in the case of Aberdeen, Bern, Mannheim and 2001 in the case of Enschede, Sabadell and Aalborg) minus the organizations founding age. Table 10.1 shows basic age-related features of the associative world in six European cities. The age distribution in our six cities shows some similarities and a wide range of differences. Clearly, associations are an old phenomenon with roots stretching back to medieval times. The oldest association still existing is a Bern association dating from 1264. Despite the impressive age of some associational beasts, there are large variations between the longevity of associations in our cities. In particular, in Mannheim and especially in Sabadell, associations seem to have much younger roots, dating back to 1728 in the case of Mannheim and to 1850 in the case of Sabadell. Admittedly, this age pattern might be artificially influenced by coincidental organizational response to our survey,2 and simple descriptive statistics might give a more valid picture of associative age. What we observe now is a relatively similar age distribution in four of our six cities. In Aalborg, Aberdeen, Enschede and Mannheim the average age of the associations (the mean age) ranges between 33 years (Enschede) and 43 years (Aberdeen). In all four cities, roughly 50 per cent of our associations are between 20 and 23 years and younger (the median value). There are two outliers: in comparative terms, Sabadell’s associative sector is very young. An average age of 25 years is far below the mean values in other cities and roughly 50 per cent of its associations are under 17 years old. On the other hand, Bern has the oldest associative life. Mean ages amount to 56 years – i.e. more than double the age of Sabadell’s sector – and 50 per cent of the population are over 47 years, which is a median value more than doubling those of Mannheim, Aalborg, Aberdeen and Enschede, and triple that of Sabadell. We will now look at these features from a slightly different perspective.

1431 34.6 571 22 16 846 177

Mean age in years Range of associational activity in years Statistical median Most frequent age (mode)

No. of valid cases

No. of missing cases

Aalborg

Founding year of oldest association

Table 10.1 Associational age in comparison

72

425

42.5 440 20 20

1560

Aberdeen

68/69

674/673

1264? Or 1786 55.6/54.6 736/214 47 20

Bern

67

755

33.3 401 23 10 and 21

1600

Enschede

191

1427

36.1 272 22 2

1728

Mann-heim

21

339

25.1 152 16 5

1850

Sabadell

Age and generation 199 Table 10.2 below presents a split of the associative universe into five equally large portions, each consisting of 20 per cent of a city’s associative sector. In particular, a comparison between the youngest and oldest 20 per cent of the associative population is telling. In Aalborg, Aberdeen and Enschede, the youngest 20 per cent are under ten years old. In Mannheim, the respective quintile is slightly younger (below seven), and Sabadell’s youngest 20 per cent are under five years old. In Bern, the youngest quintile stretches to the age of 14 (which is almost the demarcation line of the youngest 40 per cent in Aalborg, Aberdeen and Mannheim). Moreover, in Sabadell the oldest 20 per cent portion begins with the relatively young age of 43 years, while in Bern associations need to be more than 94 years old to join this oldest quintile. In short, we observe relatively similar age patterns in four of the six cities: Aalborg, Aberdeen, Enschede and Mannheim. Sabadell’s associative sector is dominated by younger associations and Bern’s by older ones. Can we explain these differences? Evidently, Sabadell’s age distribution is biased towards youth. However, as we can see in Table 10.3 below, its fertility rates – compared to other cities – are not particularly impressive. In the two years preceding our survey, there was an average ratio of one newborn association per roughly 4,700 inhabitants.3 This fertility rate averages the mean fertility rate of our six European cities, although the relationship between newborns and inhabitants is clearly ‘better’ than in Bern and Aberdeen, where fertility rates are much lower (roughly one newborn per 8,000 inhabitants), Aalborg and Mannheim experience a much higher fertility than Sabadell (1 to roughly 3,000). Therefore, potential explanations for Sabadell’s youthfulness must lie elsewhere: (i) a relatively high mortality rate amongst older associations, which give the very young associations a special weight in the entire population, or (ii) low fertility rates in older cohorts which increase the relative share of younger associations. In Bern and Aberdeen, the picture is reversed: rates of organizational fertility are below the rates in other cities. Assuming that mortality patterns are comparable, it leads us to draw the conclusion that the future prospects for the associative sectors in Bern and Aberdeen are not promising – both are characterized by low fertility rates. However, there is one decisive difference between these two cities. In Aberdeen, the relative share of the youngest is roughly 6 per cent of the entire population – comparable to the average share in our six cities. In Bern, the respective share is much smaller: roughly 2 per cent. This marked difference in the total share of newborns suggests that Bern and Aberdeen are very different when associative turnover is concerned. Thus in Bern either fewer older associations died, or formation rates were much higher during previous periods. As a result, Bern’s associative sector – characterized by low fertility and a low share of the youngest – is heavily biased towards old age. In Aberdeen, by contrast, low fertility rates go hand in hand with average rates of turnover.

165

161

29–61

62–570

1,023

189

17–28

Total N of cases

155

10–16

162

191

0–9

71–440

27–70

17–26

10–16

0–9

Aberdeen ■ No. Age of org. range

No info given

Youngest 20% 2nd youngest 20% Medium 20% 2nd oldest 20% Oldest 20%

Age range

Aalborg

Table 10.2 Age in quintiles per city

497

72

85

84

80

84

92

No. of org.

■

94–736

65–93

31–64

15–30

0–14

Age range

Bern

742

68

131

137

135

131

140

No. of org.

■

55–401

31–54

19–30

10–18

0–9

Age range

Enschede

822

67

147

153

140

154

161

No. of org.

■

65–272

31–64

16–30

7–15

0–6

Age range

Mannheim

1,618

191

283

287

285

282

290

No. of org.

■

43–151

21–42

11–20

5–10

0–4

Age range

Sabadell

360

21

66

66

70

69

68

No. of org.

Age and generation 201 Table 10.3 Fertility patterns in six cities One year or younger No. of cases

Percentage of all associations

Fertility per inhabitantsa

■

Two years or younger No. of cases

Percentage of all associations

Fertility per inhabitantsa


27 15 12 17 56 24

3.1 3.5 1.8 2.3 3.9 7.1

5,987 14,177 10,211 8,850 5,713 7,720

55 27 16 37 108 39

6.4 6.4 2.4 4.9 7.6 11.5

2,939 7,876 7,659 4,066 2,962 4,751

All 6 cities

151

3.4

7,533

282

6.3

4,072

Note a These figures were calculated by taking the number of a city’s inhabitants (see Chapter 2, Table 2.1) divided by the numbers of associations founded, i.e. for Aalborg we divided 161,661 (inhabitants) by 27 (numbers of associations founded), meaning that during the last year there was one new association per 5,987 inhabitants.

Consequently, the Aberdeen age distribution suggests decline, while Bern’s sector might be able to uphold its size in the future – not because of higher fertility rates, but because of the relative strength and survival capacities of the older sections of its associative universe. Moreover, Mannheim and Aalborg seem to possess the healthiest or most fertile voluntary sectors. They are not only characterized by a generally high density of the associative universe (see Chapter 3), but also experience high fertility combined with ‘normal’ or average turnover or exchange rates. Sabadell and Bern, finally, represent opposite poles. In Sabadell the large number of newborns in the population (almost 12 per cent) is prompted by medium fertility rates combined with high mortality or low fertility rates in older cohorts. In Bern, by contrast, the particularly low share of the young (roughly 2 per cent) is a result of the combination of the longevity of its older segments and low fertility rates of its youngsters. Part of the explanation for these differentiated patterns may lie in the very different history of the cities and countries. Spain was subject to an autocratic monarchist or Fascist rule long into the twentieth century, while Switzerland experienced a more continuous development. Whether historical roots and circumstances provide convincing explanations is analysed below. Does the contemporary age distribution point towards a diverse future of the voluntary sector in these six cities? The prospects in Aalborg and Mannheim look brightest: high fertility rates combined with average rates of mortality. Growth rather than stagnation or decline should be the future result of such a twin pattern. Likewise, Sabadell’s age distribution might signal potential for growth – albeit starting from a much lower level.

202 Roßteutscher et al. Although its fertility rates are average only, the very high share of the youngest cohorts in the overall population suggests there is a significant rejuvenation process underway. Bern presents itself as a case of stagnation. A low fertility rate is balanced by an extraordinary longevity of older fractions. If that pattern remains stable, Bern’s sector might uphold total numbers but gain an excessively older face. Aberdeen looks like a candidate for decline: very low fertility rates coupled with average survival rates. The relatively low overall associative density in contemporary Aberdeen might in fact signal that this imbalanced turnover has been the reality for some time already.

The appearance of associative generations The idea of political generations maintains that individuals of a certain epoch grew up under conditions which differed clearly from the socialization conditions of previous and succeeding cohorts. This means that individuals of one epoch differ from predecessor and successor cohorts even when passing through the life cycle (Mannheim 1964). Generations are politically or socially relevant if these epoch making circumstances resulted in relatively homogenous orientations and habits amongst the cohorts, which grew up under such conditions (e.g. Lepsius 2002: 162–3). If this is the case we can speak of generations in the sociological sense of the word. If not (i.e. no enduring and particular characteristics) we are simply facing birth cohorts – individuals born roughly during the same years. Although generations might alter attitudes and behaviour during the life cycle, a certain persistence of habits and beliefs is central to the notion of political generations. Moreover, not all members of a birth cohort must belong to the sociological category of a political generation. Common social, political and cultural experiences are crosscut by other experiences (stemming from class membership and religion, for example) with very different socialization pushes (Schüttemeyer 1985: 738). Historical events and the existence of (demographical) birth cohorts are simple facts. Whether both lead to the emergence of political generations in the sociological meaning is essentially an empirical question of shared beliefs and action patterns. Applied to the world of associations, we can observe and demarcate certain historical epochs, which might have impacted on the development process. We also can examine age cohorts – organizations founded roughly at the same time – to assess if communalities in history and founding age led to certain typical patterns of reproduction and survival. A very similar idea contains the notion of path dependency, frequently applied under the theoretical frame of (neo-)institutionalism. In essence, the idea of path dependence suggest that all institutions adapt and react to environmental changes or respond to exogenous pressures. However, the way an institution responds or adapts is dependent upon its history,

Age and generation 203 previous choices and identity. As a result, identical environmental changes and pressures might lead to very different institutional outcomes (see e.g. Hall and Taylor 1996: 947–8; Pütz 2004: 3–6). New institutionalists maintain that there is a non-determinist impact of external conditions on different actors. Change on the level of single actors is a result of two different processes or logics (i) the logic of the external context, i.e. adaptation pressures may stem from changes in the environment, and (ii) the logic of the actors themselves which relates to traditions, history, structures, norms and habits (Pütz 2004: 6). Moreover, actors prefer to keep their ‘old’ structures, habits and strategies. Change is perceived as risky. As a consequence, even in circumstances where the outside world changes significantly, actors prefer to respond in a way that corresponds to their tradition. The bigger and the more formalized an organization, the more reluctant it will be to deviate from its previous path (Lehmbruch 1998: 12). Evidently, both new institutionalist and generational hypotheses come to very similar conclusions concerning the logic of organizational development. Adaptations as a result of changes in the external environment are determined by an association’s history – one might call it ‘path’ or formative moments. To apply this notion in an analytically fruitful manner, it is crucial to locate associations’ ‘formative years’, i.e. the periods, which decided upon the institutional frame under which an association was originally coined. How can we do this? For example, Raschke’s three-phase model contains such an idea of associational coinage via external (economic) circumstances (Raschke 1988: 91ff). Accordingly, Raschke sub-divides the modern era into three periods, the pre-industrial period dominated by agrarian production, the industrial period of heavy industries, and the post-industrial period in which banking and services in general became economy’s thriving sectors. Each of these periods is characterized by a very typical form of association: the pre-industrial age is populated by so-called ‘early-bourgeois’ associations active as patriotic societies, lodges, reading clubs, gymnasts and choir societies. The industrial age starting at some point during the nineteenth century, by contrast, is characterized by the recognition of ‘the’ social question. Typically, associations of this period were aiming at the prevention or betterment of social risks, poverty and other cases of social need caused by industrialization and urbanization (Zimmer 1996: 41). The post-industrial era, according to Raschke dating from the 1970s, was a period where associations deliberately chose ‘alternative’ forms of organizations and appeared as citizen initiatives, self-help groups, socio-cultural centres, etc. Grand periodizations such as Raschke’s might be an adequate and very useful attempt to catalogue associations’ founding conditions in societies with little political turbulence. However, in the cases of Germany or Spain, where gradual alterations in the economy, or the dominant logic of

204 Roßteutscher et al. production, are violently crosscut by massive changes in the political nature of the community, the fruitfulness of such a model might be less clear. For instance, in the case of Germany, Raschke’s industrial age encompasses several very different political regimes: the constitutional monarchy under Bismarck, the democratic Weimar Republic, the totalitarian Third Reich and the first decades after the Second World War, i.e. state socialism in the case of East Germany and representative democracy in the case of the West. At least hypothetically, it is highly plausible to argue that such manifest political changes had greater impact on the nature and development of the associative sector than the more latent shifts in the logic of economic production. The appearance of generations: first empirical evidence Subsequently, we suggest a demarcation of political generations of associations along the lines of political regimes. We differentiate between societies with a more turbulent political history, i.e. societies characterized by sudden regime changes such as Spain and Germany (partly also the Netherlands), on the one hand, and societies with a more coherent, less disruptive history such as Denmark, Great Britain and Switzerland. Hypothetically, we assume that we find clearer and more pronounced generations in Sabadell and Mannheim than in Aberdeen, Aalborg or Bern because the emergence of generations is more likely in societies who experienced such rapid political, social and cultural change, marked shifts in dominant ideology and political belief systems (Lepsius 2002: 163). The subsequent series of tables (Table 10.4a–10.4f) presents the different epochs (or institutional settings) organizations had been exposed to in the six cities.4 Generations have a country- or history-specific make-up. Usually, they do not stretch over grand geographical areas but are confined to the closer national community. This might change in the future when ongoing processes of Europeanization push the development of member states along a very similar path. The demarcation of generations – as portrayed in Table 10.4a–f – might already signal a certain degree of European convergence because the history of most countries suggests the emergence of (potential) generations as a response to the post-war expansion of welfare states, and/or the unruly 1960s and 1970s, which culminated in the student revolts almost everywhere. For the pre-1945 periods, however, our six European nations followed rather unique paths, evident in the very different events that are mentioned as candidates for generation building. Moreover, the idiosyncratic history experienced by these countries can be read from the number of potential generations suggested. The sheer number of disruptive moments is greatest in Germany with a total of nine decisive regime or policy changes, followed by Spain and the Netherlands with eight such moments, while the politically less

Age and generation 205 shaken countries of Denmark and Britain produced only five shifts which might give reason for generation building (and Switzerland with seven generational demarcations ends up somewhere in between). However, can we – as hypothesized earlier – also observe that different historical experiences not only lead to a potentially higher number of discernable generations, but that there are also clearer generational differences in Germany and Spain compared to Denmark or Scotland? How can we compare survival rates across different generations and different countries? Theoretically, in the case of regime or drastic policy changes, those associated with the previous regime should come under stress. The new regime discards the old rules of the game; it sets new incentives, and invents formerly unknown obstacles. The more radical the regime or policy change, the harder it will be for older associations to adapt to the new environment. Inversely, the higher the degree of incorporation into the old regime, the more unlikely will it be that an association will be capable to establish ties to the new regime. In extreme cases such as the nineteenth century monarchist restoration period after brief democratic experiments both in Spain and Germany, or the Nazi regime succeeding the democratic Weimar Republic, the associative world of the predecessor period was simply dissolved or – in the case of Nazi Germany – forced into the corporatist Nazi structures. The same, evidently, happened to the National Socialist associations after the regime’s defeat in 1945. However, even without such overt and at times brutal pressures, regime shifts should be tough survival tests for the associative sector of the preceding era. As a consequence, we assume that the more marked the regime change, the less associations of the former period survived. Inversely, more gradual or soft regime changes increase the survival chances of older associations because an adaptation to the new conditions is more manageable. Is something like this visible in our data? Clearly, all the tables (10.4a–f) demonstrate that survival is tricky business. To endure throughout the centuries is something that very few associations achieve. Looking at the Danish case (see Table 10.4a below), there are currently four associations that were founded during the long era of absolute monarchism. These represent a meagre 0.5 per cent of Aalborg’s contemporary associative sector. This survival rate is particularly low if we consider that this period stretches over four centuries.5 If we calculate a survival rate per year of potential associative birth giving the survival rate of this cohort is nil (second last column in all Tables 10.4).6 In comparison the next period, which reflects the gradual change towards constitutional monarchy, which lasted only 20 years, has almost as many (few) survivors as its longer predecessor. Consequently, the survival rate is somewhat better: during each year in this period, 0.2 associations survived. The third generation (the consolidation of parliamentarism) with 107 survivors, provides 12 per cent of the current associative life in Aalborg, i.e. an average survival rate of 1.8 associations per year. There is a further

Pre-parliamentary monarchy Establishment and consolidation of parliamentary monarchy Establishment and consolidation of a democracy The social democratic era and the construction of the welfare state The years of market adjustments

Pre 1849 1849–1869

162

49 21

317 430

107

3

20 59

4

No. of org. founded/ survived

417

No. of years

36.8 49.9

12.4

0.3

0.5

Percentage of existing org.

6.5 20.5

1.8

0.2

0.0

Mean survival rate per annuma

24,871 7,886

89,812

Survival rate by inhabitantsb

Notes a This figure was calculated by taking the number of surviving associations and dividing this number by the number of years per epoch (i.e. column 4 divided by column 3). b In order to achieve survival figures that are comparable across cities, the number of inhabitants of each city was taken into account (i.e. number of a city’s inhabitants divided by the mean survival rate). Thus, the last column provides the information of how many associations per average epoch year survived per inhabitants. This figure was only calculated for survival rates above 1 (1 or more associations survived per mean year of an epoch).

No info given

1980–2001

1930–1979

1870–1929

Type of political regime/culture

Period

Table 10.4a Epochs and (potential) political generations in Denmark

Age and generation 207 increase during the next period towards a mean survival rate of 6.5 associations per year during the Social Democrat era and a steep increase to 21 associations during the last 20 years. In many respects, the Danish case reflects gradual regime transitions from absolutism to constitutional monarchy, to representative democracy. The closer we come to the present, the higher the proportion of surviving associations. This is as it should be, because – under normal conditions – younger associations had less life-threatening moments to negotiate. According to our expectations the case of Aberdeen looks similar (Table 10.4b). The first three periods reflect the system transition from monarchy to a fully developed democratic regime. As in Aalborg, survival figures increase with each subsequent cohort. Major differences between the two cities surface with the appearance of the last two cohorts which encompass the years of the expansion of the welfare state and of market adjustments, i.e. the adaptation from a Social Democrat welfare model to a more liberal regime. Although the last cohort provides 60 per cent of Aberdeen’s associative sector (compared to 50 per cent in Aalborg), its survival rate is half the size (10:21). From the period of welfare state expansion to the present, there are roughly seven associations per annum left in Aalborg compared to only two in Aberdeen. Admittedly, we cannot know whether the low survival rates of the Aberdeen post-war cohorts is due to (i) particularly low fertility rates during these decades, or (ii) certain disturbances in the Aberdeen environment which caused many associational deaths. In any case, the generational analyses mirror the results of our previous analyses: average survival rates in older cohorts coincide with low survival or fertility rates in post-Second World War cohorts. The difference between Aalborg and Aberdeen is particularly pronounced if one relates the survival figures to city size.7 In terms of population, Aberdeen is a much bigger city, i.e. the relative advantage of Aalborg over Aberdeen is amplified: in the youngest Aalborg generation there is one survivor per roughly 8,000 inhabitants. By contrast, in Aberdeen only one association per 22,000 inhabitants survived (the ratio in the second youngest generation is equally biased towards Aalborg: one survivor per 25,000 compared to 89,000 in Aberdeen). A third candidate for which we expected gradual exchange rather than disruptions caused by the appearance of generations was the case of Switzerland. Yet, the Bern case fits less than did Aalborg or Aberdeen. First, we observe that an older cohort (the ones born during the age of Corporatism) has an equal or higher survival rate than its successor cohort. Applying a perspective of gradual regime change and continuous patterns of ageing, such a reversal should not materialize. Second, the survival rates of all nineteenth-century cohorts and the cohort born before the end of the Second World War are outstanding compared to all other cities. Consequently, these four older pre-1945 cohorts supply an impressive 45 per cent of the contemporary Bernese associative life (compared to

The foundation of the UK The movement from a parliamentary to a democratic regime The years marked by successive international crisis The years of the establishment and the consolidation of the welfare state The years of market adjustment

Pre 19th century 1800–1913

72

26

27

256

66

27

70

113 31

6


239

No. of years

60.2

15.5

6.4

16.5

1.4


9.8

2.4

0.9

0.6

0.0


21,699

88,604



No info given

1974–2000

1946–1973

1914–1945


Period

Table 10.4b Epochs and (potential) political generations in Great Britain/Scotland

Pre-foundation of Switzerland The creation of the Swiss federal state Period of centralization Age of corporatism The Post-war boom The Cultural Revolution Stagnation and crisis

Pre 1848

68

21 10

21

27

43

25

583/61

No. of years

181 98

94

123

133

31

14


26.9 14.5

13.9

18.2

19.7

4.6

2.1


8.6 9.8

4.5

4.6

3.1

1.2

0.02/0.2


14,248 12,504

27,230

26,638

39,528

102,114



No info given

1968–1989 1990–2000

1946–1967

1918–1945

1874–1917

1848–1873


Period

Table 10.4c Epochs and (potential) political generations in Switzerland

210 Roßteutscher et al. 24 per cent in Aberdeen, 18 per cent in the Netherlands and 21 per cent in Mannheim).8 By contrast, the survival rates of younger post-1945 cohorts equal the rates of Aberdeen and are significantly below the rates of all other cities. The Bern figures, thus, contradict a continuous and gradual model of ageing. The current associative sector has its roots in the crucial period of nation building. The three associative generations which participated in developing the Swiss system, from the first loser federalism allowing for much cantonal liberty (1848 to 1873), to the period when central authority was built and continuously strengthened (1874 to 1917), to, finally, the associations which grew up under the establishment of corporatist structures of labour and welfare relations, are particularly robust and capable to coin current associative life.9 Alternatively, it is possible that this state-building century encouraged associative growth on a scale that none of our other cities experienced. In such a case, survival rates might have been average, but a unique fertility rate during those hundred years explains the contemporary Bernese age pattern. The Netherlands’ smooth development had been interrupted twice, once by the establishment of absolutism (1816 to 1830) following the French occupation and second by four years of Nazi occupation during the Second World War. However, none of the pre-1849 events left any traces in the contemporary associative sector of Enschede. The first generation which (with a total share of 16 per cent) impacts on current Enschede’s associative life was founded when Dutch politics developed its characteristic traits: consociational democracy based on minority representation through a system of solid pillars each consisting of a political party and an abundance of associations which held and socialized the minorities within their own pillar. Apparently, the Nazi occupation had little impact on the survival chances of the associations born during this brief intermezzo. At least the survival rate of three associations per year fits neatly in an age-related pattern of gradual growth. The most striking feature of the Dutch case is the numerical strength of the last period, characterized by the political mobilization of the student revolt, on the one hand, and the collapse of the systems of pillars which characterized Dutch politics since the nineteenth century. These last decades supply 60 per cent of Enschede’s contemporary associative sector. In this respect, Enschede resembles the Scottish and Danish case, with survival rates of 15 associations per average year lying somewhere in between the low rates of Aberdeen and the much higher rates of Aalborg. Looking at survival in relation to city size, Enschede’s younger generations appear to be much healthier than their Scottish counterparts. Amongst the youngest generation there is one survivor per roughly 10,000 inhabitants, a figure much closer to the 8,000 in the case of Aalborg than the 22,000 in Aberdeen.10 In other words, although Dutch history was violently interrupted by foreign occupations, those intermezzi (maybe because they were rather short-lived) had little impact, with the result that the survival patterns of

The foundation of the Netherlands The French intermezzo The absolutistic kingdom Liberal revolutions and parliamentary monarchy Democracy and pillarization The German occupation The expansion of the welfare state De-pillarization, mobilization and market adaptation

1568–1795

30

24

4

91

17

14

19

227

No. of years

67

455

162

12

121

0

2

0

3


60.3

21.5

1.6

16.0

0.0

0.3

0.0

0.4


15.2

6.8

3.0

1.3

0.0

0.1

0.0

0.0


9,898

22,125

50,150

115,730



No info given

1971–2001

1946–1970

1941–1945

1849–1940

1831–1848

1816–1830

1796–1815


Period

Table 10.4d Epochs and (potential) political generations in the Netherlands

212 Roßteutscher et al. different cohorts resemble those of Aalborg and Aberdeen – a gradual and continuous increase in survival chances. The German case of Mannheim clearly supports a generational hypothesis. The National Socialist regime broke the continuous development: its two predecessor generations have both higher survival rates (four and six associations per year survived compared to three of those founded during the Third Reich) and a larger share in the contemporary associative life of Mannheim (12 and 5 per cent compared to 2 per cent of associations born under Nazism). Although the Nazi regime successfully suppressed and streamlined the associative world fitting to its ideological and institutional make up, it was, in the long run, not capable of disrupting the associative development. The disruption only worked in one direction: associations founded under Nazism had fewer chances of survival than those established under the democratic successor regime. However, the associative sector of its preceding regimes – the constitutional monarchy of the German Reich and the Weimar Republic – managed to re-surface after the Third Reich’s defeat at the end of the Second World War. There is a second striking feature of Mannheim’s associative life: outstanding survival rates of all post-1945 generations. In the ten years since the Unification of the Western Federal Republic with its East German twin each year added an average of 42 associations to Mannheim’s associative world. In the preceding period, by Germans often referred to as the Conservative Turn11, the rate is very high as well (32 associations per year). Even the 1968 political mobilization period still provides a mean survival rate of 19 associations per year. In comparative respect, these survival figures are unmatched. With the exception of Denmark, all countries witnessed the 1960s and 1970s as a distinct moment, separating this period from the re-construction era of the post-war years. If we compare, survival rates roughly within these last four decades, the exceptional Mannheim position is clear. If we add the survival figures of these three generations, there have been 30 survivors in an average year since 1968 (compared to ten per year during a similar period in Aberdeen and Sabadell, nine in Bern, 15 in Enschede and 21 in Aalborg). If we take city size into account – Mannheim is the biggest of our six cities – the Mannheim survival rates are matched only by Aalborg. Mannheim and Aalborg show rather dissimilar patterns – Aalborg is a prime example of gradual growth uninterrupted by generational particularities. Mannheim is clearly affected by generation building. However, considering the survival rates of younger cohorts both cities resemble each other and stand apart from all others. Spain was as a second candidate for generational imprints on its associative life. However, on first inspection the data does not match our expectations. There is – as in Scotland, or Denmark – a rather smooth increase in survival rates towards the younger fractions of Sabadell’s associative sector. There is a clear increase in survival chances from the last

The ‘liberal’ age Period of restoration German Reich, 1st unification Weimar, 1st German democracy NS-Regime Reconstruction period, Adenauer era Age of political mobilization The Conservative turn Unified Germany

Pre 1848 1849–1870

191

10

6

14

12 21

13

47

120 21

No. of years

19

192

277

31 237

73

166

13 19


29.4

13.5

19.4

2.2 16.6

5.1

11.6

0.8 1.2


41.9

32.0

19.8

2.6 11.3

5.6

3.5

0.1 0.9


7,636

9,998

16,159

123,055 28,314

57,133

91,413



No info given

1990–2000

1983–1989

1968–1982

1933–1945 1946–1967

1919–1932

1871–1918


Period

Table 10.4e Epochs and (potential) political generations in Germany

Progressive consolidation of a liberal regime Restoration era Dictatorship of Primo de Rivera (1923–1930) and the Second Republic (1931–1936) Civil War (1936– 1939) and the firsts years of Franco’s dictatorship Dictatorship since the Association’s Law of 1964 Democratic consolidation period The years of the socialist hegemony Conservative turn

1812–1874

21

12

5

6

11

26

47 13

62

No. of years

145

47

41

31

46

17 7

5


42.8

13.9

12.1

9.1

13.6

5.0 2.1

1.5


12.1

9.4

6.8

2.8

1.8

0.4 0.5

0.1


15,312

19,710

27,246

66,168

102,928



No info given

1989–2001

1983–1988

1976–1982

1964–1975

1937–1963

1875–1922 1923–1936


Period

Table 10.4f Epochs and (potential) political generations in Spain

Age and generation 215 period dominated by the Franco regime to the first democratic period (three survivors per year compared to seven during the latter period). However, compared to other cities, this increase is not particularly steep. For instance, in the Netherlands, a case that was not troubled by generational particularities, from the 1970s to the present we observed an increase from seven to 15 survivors per year. In a similar period Aberdeen survival figures grew from two to ten. However, there is some evidence that associations founded under Fascism had great difficulties in adapting to the new democratic environment. The survival chances of associations founded under Franco are as low as those founded under German National Socialism (two per average year in both cases). However, the Franco regime lasted until the mid-1970s. If we compare survival chances of the later Franco years (1964 to 1975) with similar periods in other countries we see that Sabadell’s associative growth was significantly delayed. In a similar period, there were seven survivors per year in Enschede and Aalborg, 20 in Mannheim, and five in Bern, compared to three yearly survivors in Sabadell. Only Aberdeen produces similarly low figures, however in the case of Aberdeen this period stretches back to the 1940s and is thus not fully comparable. The main difference between Mannheim and Sabadell seems to be that after the collapse of Fascist rule, Sabadell’s sector could not re-vitalize with the speed and force of Mannheim. Since the late 1960s, the Mannheim survival rates have rocketed to a current figure of 40 per average year, while Sabadell is stuck with a lowly 12. It’s beyond the scope of this chapter to explain the limited growth in Sabadell. However, one might speculate that the much longer experience of Spanish Fascism had undermined the art of association in a more profound way than did the more oppressive and more brutal, but short-lived, Third Reich.

Age and generations: participatory vehicles? Until now, we looked at organizational success and reproduction only from one particular angle: fertility and survival. Evidently, survival is the base line for any success. In other words, without survival all other measures of success or reproduction are simply irrelevant. Therefore, the average organization puts lots of effort into measures of organizational maintenance (see Chapter 5 for a detailed analysis). Once an organization is established, it sustains itself through the generation of (fee-paying) members, of activists and volunteers’ purposive activities. An association upheld by a geriatric chair and a few committed board members or one that survives because some city council supports it financially, will not last long. Members, activists and volunteers are the backbone of any organizational success. In this last empirical section we will examine how patterns of age and generation impact on an organization’s capacity to reproduce through a healthy influx of committed individuals.

216 Roßteutscher et al. Table 10.5 Relationship between associational age and participation (Pearson’s R) Aalborg All members Volunteers Activists Ratio: active to members Ratio: volunteer to members

Aberdeen

0.29** 0.28** 0.18** 0.15** 0.27** 0.26** n.s. n.s. 0.08*

n.s.

Bern 0.17** n.s. 0.11** n.s. n.s.

Enschede

Mannheim

Sabadell

0.21** 0.10** 0.22** n.s.

0.39** 0.16** 0.30** 0.07*

0.23** 0.15* 0.23** n.s.

0.19**

0.16**

n.s.

Note *** Significant at p > 0.001. ** Significant at p > 0.01. * Significant at p > 0.05.

Simply, participation in groups is age dependent. The older an association, the more members, activists and volunteers are to its disposal. This relationship holds for all our cities, independent of whether the associative sector of a city was in decline, characterized by stagnation, or over-all growth. It also holds independent of whether associative generations appeared or whether turnover followed the more gradual and unspectacular ageing model. Two qualifications need to be made: (i) organizational theory maintains that the surviving associations from older historical periods are a reflection of an on-going process of the ‘survival of the fittest’, i.e. that the organizations which managed to exist throughout decades, even centuries, are the successful fraction of each cohort. A constant replenishment with committed members is a prime indicator of an association’s capacity to adapt to a changing environment. A positive relationship between age and membership patterns is thus to be expected; (ii) for the Bernese associative sector, whose relatively old face was determined by an outstanding survival rate of the nineteenth-century statebuilding generations, the relationship between (old) age and organizational reproduction in terms of members, activists and volunteers is comparably weak, if not fully insignificant (in the case of volunteers). In other words, in terms of (wo)manpower the Bern case is slightly less biased towards old age than are all the other cities. Therefore, the member factor somewhat compensates for the old-age bias that is otherwise the major feature of Bern’s associative life. There is, however, a second story in Table 10.5. If there are significant relationships between age and inner-organizational mobilization they uniformly lean towards young age. The older associations are giants in term of size; numbers of members, activists and volunteers. The younger associations, on the other hand, are more successful in mobilizing activists and volunteers from their membership pool. Interestingly, this pro-young age pattern is most clearly visible in Mannheim, followed by Enschede and

Age and generation 217 Aalborg, and non-existent in Bern, Aberdeen and Sabadell. In other words, where there is high fertility in younger cohorts, and where survival rates of the young are high, there also is a pronounced capacity to mobilize group members into volunteering and activism. By contrast, where fertility is rather low, where survival rates are not impressive, young associations are also not particular successful in turning passive commitment active. Finally, Table 10.6 inspects the same phenomenon from another angle by including generations into the equation. For each of our participatory indicators regression analyses were conducted in order to see whether not only age, but also particular generations add to an explanation of organizational success in terms of generating members, activists and volunteers. Two models have been calculated per city: (i) one model including only a continuous age variable, and (ii) a model that tests the participatory capacities of single generations. The generations included are those cohorts we introduced in the previous section of this chapter (Table 10.4a to 10.4f). In each case the youngest cohort or generation is used as a contrast category, i.e. all results/coefficients must be interpreted as deviations from the features of the youngest. If our cohorts corresponded perfectly to a model of gradual ageing, we should observe continuously increasing (or decreasing) coefficients from one generation to the next. If, however, participatory capacities are concentrated upon some specific cohorts, as a generational model would hypothesize, such gradual increase or decrease should be absent. Instead, effects should be confined to single generations. If we look at the first three regression models, explaining the production of size in terms of members, volunteers and activists, the ageing hypothesis gains some support. In Aalborg, Aberdeen and Enschede we find an increase in the size of the coefficients with each older cohort.12 Somehow also Bern falls into this category, however, the results can also be interpreted as a further evidence of the grand importance of the three Bernese cohorts of the Swiss nation- and state-building enterprise. Apparently, these three cohorts, and the middle cohort topping its companions, are also particularly successful in terms of generating (wo)manpower. No gradual increase can be observed in the case of Mannheim, compared to the two youngest generations most others have a rather large and significant advantage in terms of producing large pools of members, volunteers and activists. In Sabadell, finally, most associations do not differ significantly from the youngest fraction – this is particularly clear concerning the generation of volunteers and activists, where only one or two cohorts produce significant coefficients. The clearest piece of evidence stemming from Table 10.6 is the exceptional position of the youngest or the two youngest cohorts in all our cities. Compared to the older fractions of the associative universe younger associations have not (yet) accumulated the (wo)manpower of their predecessors. They are new, not yet firmly established, and

Gen 1 Gen 2 Gen 3 Gen 4

0.10** n.s. 0.26*** 0.19***

0.27***

Age Gen

0.07 0.08

n.s. n.s. 0.18*** n.s.

Gen 1 Gen 2 Gen 3 Gen 4 Gen 5 Gen 6 Gen 7 Gen 8

0.18***

0.03 0.03

Age Gen

0.29***

0.11*** n.s. 0.30*** 0.25***

0.08 0.11

Beta


Age Gen

R2 adj.

Aalborg ■

0.07 0.10

0.02 0.04

0.08 0.14

R2 adj.

Aberdeen

n.s. 0.33*** 0.10* n.s.

0.26***

n.s. 0.23*** n.s. n.s.

0.15**

n.s. 0.39*** 0.12** n.s.

0.28***

Beta

Beta

■

0.05 0.06

R2 adj.

Enschede

n.s. 0.13** 0.21*** 0.19***

Number of activists 0.01 0.11** 0.03

n.s. n.s. 0.16** n.s. 0.11* n.s.

0.05 0.07

Numbers of volunteers 0.00 n.s. 0.01 0.01 0.01

n.s. 0.18*** 0.30*** 0.18*** 0.12* 0.14*

Members in total 0.03 0.17*** 0.05

Bern ■ R2 adj.

Table 10.6 Explaining patterns of participation through age and generation

n.s. – 0.09* –

0.22***

n.s. – n.s. – 0.13*** n.s. 0.08*

0.10**

n.s. – n.s. – 0.25*** 0.08* 0.11**

0.21***

Beta

■

0.09 0.11

0.03 0.03

0.15 0.16

R2 adj.

Mannheim

0.10*** n.s. 0.29*** 0.23***

0.30***

n.s. n.s. 0.16*** 0.13*** n.s. 0.09** 0.07* n.s.

0.16***

0.17*** 0.11*** 0.35*** 0.21*** 0.13*** 0.22*** 0.15*** n.s.

0.39***

Beta

■

0.05 0.08

0.02 0.02

0.05 0.07

R2 adj.

Sabadell

n.s. 0.25*** n.s. 0.23***

0.23***

n.s. 0.20** n.s. n.s. n.s. n.s. n.s.

0.15*

n.s. 0.15** n.s. 0.27*** n.s. 0.11* n.s.

0.23***

Beta

Note *** Significant at p > 0.001. ** Significant at p > 0.01 * Significant at p > 0.05.


n.s. n.s. n.s. 0.14***

n.s. n.s. n.s. n.s.

n.s.

0.00 0.00

0.08*

0.01 0.01

n.s. 0.14*

n.s. n.s. n.s. n.s. n.s. n.s.

Ratio: volunteer to members in total 0.00 n.s. 0.03 0.01 0.04

n.s. n.s. n.s. n.s. n.s. n.s.

Ratio: active members to members in total n.s. 0.00 n.s. 0.00 0.00 0.00

Age Gen

0.00 0.01 n.s. n.s. n.s. n.s.

n.s.

n.s. n.s. n.s. n.s.

0.00 0.00


Age Gen

Gen 5 Gen 6 Gen 7 Gen 8

n.s. – n.s. – 0.18*** 0.08* 0.14***

0.19***

n.s. – n.s. – n.s. n.s. n.s.

n.s.

0.24*** 0.12*** 0.13***

0.03 0.02

0.00 0.00

0.08** 0.06* 0.14*** 0.08** 0.06* 0.06* n.s. n.s.

0.16***

n.s. 0.07* n.s. n.s. n.s. n.s. n.s. n.s.

0.07*

0.08** 0.14*** 0.10*** n.s.

0.01 0.04

0.01 0.01

n.s. n.s. n.s. n.s. n.s. n.s. n.s.

n.s.

n.s. n.s. n.s. n.s. n.s. n.s. n.s.

n.s.

n.s. n.s. n.s.

220 Roßteutscher et al. will, presumably, in the future either grow (thus resembling the size patterns of the older cohorts), or die. In the words of organizational theory, those young cohorts still face the Darwinian test of the ‘survival of the fittest’. In short, this final analysis neither fully supports a notion of gradual ageing, nor the notion of generation building. Rather, it documents the uniqueness and potential fallibility of young cohorts compared to all other cohorts. The results concerning inner-organizational mobilization confirm the rather limited use of concepts of age and generation. In most instances, explained variances and regression coefficients are either close to nil or insignificant. In other words, an organization’s capacity to mobilize from inside is neither related to an organization’s age nor to certain generational features. As was already obvious in the bivariate analysis (Table 10.5), there are some exceptions to the rule. In Aalborg, Enschede and in Mannheim, in particular, young cohorts stand out: compared to older generations, they are capable of turning members active. The fewer members they have are particularly committed. Freshness contributes to both: a shaky member basis and particularly committed members.

Conclusion: a changing organizational ecology? There is an endless stream of associations coming and going. The world of associations is a world of constant flux. Survival is tough business and only very few manage to escape the normal fate of a limited lifespan. In most of our cities the associative world is monopolized by young associations, up to 60 per cent were formed during the last two or three decades. However, those who survived have a large member pool with many activists and volunteers at their disposal – of course members also contribute to financial stability and health.13 In accordance with organizational theory it is highly plausible that those battle-tried associations will remain enduring features of a future associative world. The constant flux is a general phenomenon. However, there are three different patterns of associative exchange, resulting in three different scenarios of future development for the associative sector as a whole. There is a pattern of decline, a pattern of stagnation, and a pattern of growth. All three patterns are exemplified in our associative universes. Decline is a result of low fertility rates amongst younger cohorts and average turnover or survival rates in older ones. Aberdeen is most clearly exposed to a scenario of decline. Fertility rates are particularly low, and as older cohorts decrease in numerical strength, its associative sector is affected by shrinking numbers. The Swiss city of Bern is trapped in a scenario of stagnation. The low fertility rates, matched only by those of Aberdeen, would signal prospects of decline. However, the low reproduction capacity is counterbalanced by an extreme longevity of older segments of the associative universe. Bern may uphold sector size, but lacks the freshness and

Age and generation 221 mobilization (and innovation) capacity that comes with high fertility rates. Growth, finally, is a product of high fertility combined with average turnover or survival rates in older cohorts. The cities of Mannheim and Aalborg most clearly exemplify the growth scenario. Interestingly, it is also these cities where the youngest segment seems particularly successful in generating activists and volunteers from the member pool. Fertility seems to be the crucial factor in determining civil society’s future. Without high birth rates, stagnation is the best one can get, decline the more likely result. Why? Based on our evidence, a high proportion of associations will die when getting older. It seems rather difficult to invent measures to artificially prolong associations’ life span. In this respect, the demographics of associative life are fully comparable to human or societal demographics. Bern, on the other hand, documents a development that is unthinkable in the world of humans. Through generational experiences, the growing up amongst the decisive periods of nation-building, an outstandingly high proportion of the concerned associations could somehow immunize themselves against ageing and mortality – with the by now well-known result: stagnation coupled with a civil society sector that gains an increasingly older face. Bern is one striking example that generations matter. Mannheim provided further evidence – the disruptive and at times violent history left its traces on the voluntary sector. The gradual process of ageing and dying, typical for societies with smoother historical developments, is clearly crosscut by the experience of certain generations, which were unable to survive regime changes. Sabadell is a third candidate. However, the distinct Spanish history impacted on the voluntary sector in a way that is neither comparable to Bern nor to Mannheim. Long years of autocratic rule have suppressed associational developments at times when Bern’s sector boomed. With the end of the Franco regime in the 1970s only a very tender blossoming of associative activity appeared – nothing compared to the eruption of associationalism that characterized Mannheim after the Second World War and since the late 1960s in particular. The years of suppression under Fascism still overshadow the associative sector of current Sabadell. Our six European cities shed a spotlight on patterns of associative reproduction. They offer the full range of potential future prospects: decline, stagnation, and growth. The mechanisms examined, i.e. the relationship between fertility and sector growth, between survival rates and the demographics of the sector, between regime change and generation building, or between age and membership patterns, should hold universally. However, because of the nature and design of our common project (see Chapter 2 for details), it is much harder to come to more general conclusions concerning the reproductive capacities of countries as a whole, i.e. to equate Scotland with associative decline and Germany with growth. It is equally plausible to assume that within Scotland, or within

222 Roßteutscher et al. Germany there are cities with growing, stagnating and declining civil societies. Civil society is principally a local phenomenon, restricted to a geographical unit where people live, work and communicate with each other. This means that local civil societies might be affected by very specific conditions that can vary from city to city within one region. It is one of the most intriguing questions of what kind of conditions might suppress or nurture associative fertility. Some of the factors outlined in Chapter 2 might contribute to our understanding of civil society’s reproduction. Mannheim is a city that – to some respect – has successfully mastered the economic transition from heavy industries to means of post-industrial modes of production. The relative attraction of the city is visible in growing population figures, increasing rents and house prices, etc. Aberdeen, by contrast, is a declining city still dominated by traditional industries. It might easily be that general – social, political and economic – conditions that predominate in a given locale impact greatly on the associative sector’s capacity to reproduce. This chapter (and the entire volume) has presented some initial insights into this largely unexplored terrain.

Notes 1 In order to fully understand the dynamics of organizational change, ideally we would need time-series/panel data. 2 This suspicion arises particularly in the case of Bern where the second oldest association is a couple of centuries younger than the oldest (see second entry in Table 10.1). 3 It is essential to look at associative fertility during such a brief period before our survey was conducted. Only for this period we can be sure that we found (almost) all associations, because few will have died already. For all other cohorts we cannot be sure how many associations were founded. We observe the survivors, but do not know which fraction of the entire birth cohort is represented by these survivors. 4 A more extensive argument of why we chose these epochs as (potential) periods of associations’ formative years or as the major institutional frames which determined associations’ original path (including references), can be requested from the authors. We express gratitude towards our colleagues who helped us with the periodization of the countries’ history. In particular, we want to thank Peter Geurts (responsible for the Nertherlands), Hanspeter Kriesi (for Switzerland), William Maloney (for Scotland) and Lars Torpe (for Denmark). 5 The length of this first period is somewhat arbitrary because it is partly determined by the oldest surviving association. 6 The average survival rate per annum is calculated simply by dividing the numbers of survivors by the numbers of years the period encompasses (i.e. in the case of Aalborg’s oldest cohort by calculating 4/417). This average figure of survival is essential to evaluate success across generations because – all other things being equal – the length of a period impacts greatly on the chances of potential births. If a period consists of only ten years, it cannot produce as many associations as a period of 50 or 100 years. 7 The assumption that bigger cities produce a livelier associative sector is not

Age and generation 223

8

9

10

11 12 13

entirely unproblematic (see Chapter 11 for a detailed analyses of the relationship between city size and associations). For the moment, we assume that size may play a role because the more inhabitants there are, the more diversified and the more numerous the desires for associative representation. The figures for Aalborg and Sabadell are not truly comparable because one of the generations crosses the 1945 watershed. If we inspect the cohort closest to the 1945 demarcation, Aalborg’s older cohorts account for 13 per cent, and Sabadell’s for 9 per cent. If we consider city size (last column of Table 10.4d), the exceptional achievement of these Swiss cohorts is highlighted. While in Aberdeen a calculation of survival by number of inhabitants for the last pre-war cohort would result in one surviving organization by roughly 240,000 inhabitants (data not shown because survival rate is below 1), the corresponding figure for Bern is one association per 27,000, i.e. a survival rate that is almost nine times higher than in the Scottish city. Also compared to Aalborg, Bern’s nineteenth-century associations do very well. In the period between 1874 and 1917 (1870 and 1929 in Aalborg) there is one surviving organization per 40,000 inhabitants in Bern compared to one association per 90,000 inhabitants in Aalborg. For the second youngest generation (the post-war generation) the difference is even more pronounced: there is one surviving association per 22,000 inhabitants in the Netherlands compared to one association per 89,000 inhabitants in Aberdeen. Following a self-description of then Christian-Democrat Chancellor Helmut Kohl. In most instancies, the oldest cohorts do not achieve significant results. This is due to very low case numbers, i.e. in Aberdeen and Bern, there are only six cases in this category (three in the Netherlands and five in Sabadell). See Chapter 7 for a detailed analysis of resources in terms of money and members.

11 City size and the nature of associational ecologies Simone Baglioni, Bas Denters, Laura Morales and Angelika Vetter

Introduction It is 30 years since Dahl and Tufte published their path-breaking book Size and Democracy. This volume systematically explored the relationship between the size of political systems and the quality of democracy. The main focus of Dahl and Tufte’s work was in the area of local government studies (Sharpe 1988; Keating 1995). In this field a limited number of empirical studies has since been directed towards effects of city size on various aspects of local democracy: e.g. people’s satisfaction with local government performance (Mouritzen 1989; Denters and Geurts 1998); the level of electoral participation (Verba and Nie 1972; Verba et al. 1978; Gaardsted 2002; Smeets et al. 1998; Oliver 1999, 2000 and 2001); the level of non-electoral participation (Verba and Nie 1972; Verba et al. 1978; Rose 2002; Oliver 1999, 2000 and 2001) and people’s social and political trust (Denters 2002; Denters and Geurts 1998). Even though one of the main concerns in Dahl and Tufte’s book is the relationship between city size and associational life in political systems, subsequent work has largely ignored the possible impact of size on the nature of local civil society. This is regrettable since the vibrancy of associational life in communities is often considered a crucial aspect of the vitality of a democratic system. Dahl and Tufte claim that increases in city size and associated characteristics of a city’s organizational life (e.g. the degree of heterogeneity) affect the democratic performance of its political system. This effect may be for better or for worse. Robert Putnam (1993: 182) is confident that such effects are essentially positive. He boldly claims: ‘Tocqueville was right: Democratic government is strengthened, not weakened, when it faces a vigorous civil society’. On the other hand, ever since Adam Smith, social scientists have indicated that organizational life may be a mixed blessing. A strong and active network of civic organizations may also have paralysing effects on the political system’s capacity to meet collective demands.1 One way or the other, however, all these authors agree on the democratic relevance of organizational life. Therefore the lack of attention on

City size and associational ecologies 225 the relationship between city size and patterns of associational life is regrettable. In this paper we attempt to make a modest contribution to filling this gap. We explore the relationship between city size and the mix of local associations – or in Mark Warren’s terminology the local associational ecology (2001a: 207). To this end we provide a descriptive analysis of differences in associational ecologies in communities of different size – from rural villages to large cities. Our central research question is: are there (democratically relevant) differences in local organizational ecologies between large and small cities? Of course, before we can begin to answer this question we should first determine which characteristics of associational ecologies might potentially be democratically important. In the next section we discuss four such aspects: • • • •

the density and the diversity of associational ecologies; the interconnectedness of a city’s local associational networks; the political connectedness of a city’s civic associations; and the degree of voluntarism and activism in a city’s local associations.

After presenting our main conceptual and theoretical considerations, we discuss the design of our study and introduce the additional cities we used to tentatively test relevant theoretical arguments. Then, we turn to the empirical evidence and discuss some of the implications of our findings in the final section.

Associational ecologies and size: conceptual considerations Density and diversity As Warren has pointed out associations perform a variety of functions that link citizens to their governments. He points to three major functions: the public sphere, the institutional or governance, and the developmental.2 A first ecological characteristic that, from such a perspective, may be considered as relevant is the density of organizations. Gray and Lowery (1996: 86) argue that density is a relational concept: ‘Twenty individuals in a football stadium would not be considered a dense population. The same 20 individuals in an elevator, however, would experience a high level of density’. This implies that the absolute number of associations should somehow be put in the perspective of an appropriate frame of reference. Gray and Lowery argue that, for intermediary organizations two such perspectives qualify. First, the ‘raw number of interest organizations – or rather, raw numbers divided by one’. This measure of absolute density describes the character of local civil society vis-à-vis ‘government as a unitary entity’ (Gray and Lowery 1996: 86). Second, from the perspective of representing citizens, associations might be related to the population

226 Baglioni et al. size of the relevant jurisdiction. A dense associational ecology is one in which there are many associations representing relatively few citizens. This second notion will be referred to as relative density, being measured by the number of organizations per 1,000 inhabitants. A second important characteristic of an associational ecology is its diversity. Diversity pertains to the distribution of associations over some relevant typology of interests (Gray and Lowery 1996: 93). Diversity is particularly important for the public sphere and the institutional/governance functions. The more diverse an associational ecology, the more differentiated the communication structure that is relevant for the formation of public opinion, and the better the opportunities for representing social differences and commonalities (public sphere function; Warren 2001a: 78–82). From an institutional/governance perspective the diversity of associations might enhance the system’s capacity for political accountability because associations provide people with ‘the capacity to organize collective actions’ and ‘the capacity to resist what they do not like’ (Warren 2001a: 85). This might either enhance or impede the governing capacity of a polity. In this chapter we focus on the diversity of the associational ecologies both with regard to the sectors (sectorial diversity) they are engaged in and with regard to the type of activities they carry out (diversity of activities).3 Social and political connectedness From a democratic perspective other characteristics of associational ecologies may also be relevant. In order to have an impact on the public and political agenda, and to bring the concerns of its membership out into the open and present them in a relevant way (Habermas 1993: 435), associations should be well connected to the (local) political system. Moreover, it would also be useful for associations to be well integrated in social communication networks in order to expand interest in the issue to enough other groups in the population to gain a place on the public agenda [. . .] and create sufficient pressure on decision makers to force the issue onto the formal agenda for their serious consideration. (Cobb, Ross and Ross 1976: 132) Likewise, in order to function as alternative structures of governance, associational connections to both public authorities and other local groups are equally important.4 From the perspective of both the public sphere and governance functions, therefore, it is interesting to assess the integration of organizations in political and social networks. Thus, we would contend that the democratic potential of associations is higher the more extensive the associations’ contacts are with local government and other local organizations.

City size and associational ecologies 227 For measuring inter-organizational or ‘social’ connectedness we look at the number of contacts that the associations have with other civic groups. For political connectedness we use two different measures. On the one hand, the direct responses by organizations to four questions regarding the existence of contacts with the local civil servants, the local executive branch (mayor, etc.), the local assembly (local parliament or councillors) and local parties/politicians. On the other hand, an additive index that combines all these responses into an overall indicator of political connectedness.5 Activism and voluntarism within associations A final set of characteristics of associational ecologies is particularly relevant with regard to the developmental function of associations. As Warren (2001a: 70–7) has emphasized, it is important that associations offer rich opportunities for active civic engagement. If associational involvement is limited to ‘card-carrying membership’ (Putnam 2000: 58) or ‘chequebook participation’, developmental effects are not likely to be substantial. From a developmental perspective it is therefore crucial to see whether organizations offer rich opportunities for active membership involvement, i.e. as an active member or volunteer. From this perspective it is interesting to look at the degree of voluntarism and activism in a city’s local associations, i.e. to establish the character of organizations in terms of their ratio of active to passive members, and the ratio of volunteers to passive members. To determine these ratios we will use the same measures applied throughout the rest of this volume.6 All other things being equal, the democratic potential of associations from a developmental perspective is higher, the higher these scores.

Associational ecologies and city size: theoretical considerations Density and diversity As indicated above, and as we have seen already in Chapter 4, density and diversity are important characteristics of associational ecologies. A first important expectation is that with increasing city size absolute density and diversity are likely to increase. This is the result of what we might call the Soccer Clubs Law: If there is approximately one soccer player to every 50 people, then a community of 1,000 is likely to have only twenty soccer players. Since these soccer players will differ in their age it is highly unlikely that there will be a local soccer club that has a team playing in the regional competition. A town of 10,000 will have 200 soccer players or so, and

228 Baglioni et al. there will probably be at least one football club that has a couple of teams that will play in the regional competition. A city of 100,000 will have about 2,000 football players and there are probably a dozen different clubs. In such a city there might very well also be a professional football club competing in the national league (with its supporters association and its business club) and a local branch of the national football association in charge of the regional competition. Finally, a city of a million with 20,000 soccer players, will probably not only have hundreds of soccer clubs (including one or more professional clubs), but probably also a number of related organizations (a local branch of the FA, the offices of the regional branch of the FA, clubs for referees, supporters organizations, and business clubs). (cf. Dahl and Tufte’s Plumber’s Law 1973: 39) In general, the higher the number of potential members, the more likely it is that latent groups will get organized. This is based on the idea that there will be a minimal threshold of size below which an organization is not likely. If this presumption is correct, there will be two effects on the ecology of associations in a municipality. First, as the ‘Soccer Clubs Law’ implies, the larger the number of potential members of a particular latent group (e.g. soccer players), the higher the absolute density of organizations in a particular ‘associational niche’ (soccer clubs). Moreover, Dahl and Tufte (1973: 13–14) also argue that large-scale political units are likely to exhibit more social diversity in terms of people’s beliefs, values, goals, interests, and social and economic characteristics. Since the numerical logic of the ‘Soccer Clubs Law’ also pertains to these other latent groups, the combined effects of this ‘law’ and social diversity will not only provide a further increase in the absolute density of organizations, but will also result in an increased diversity of the associational ecology. Accordingly, city size is expected to have a positive effect on both the absolute density of associations and the diversity of local associations. In the meanwhile it is less obvious what will happen with the relative density of the associational ecology. It may be that the absolute number of organizations increases proportionally with city size. It may, however, also be that the increase in the number of organizations will be more than proportional. For a variety of reasons, it has been argued, large cities provide people with more opportunities and more incentives for associational participation (Verba and Nie 1972: 229–31). Alternatively, there are also theoretical reasons to expect that the increase in absolute density will not be proportional to the increases in city size. First, there might be a decline of community effect: increasing city size might have a negative effect on people’s sense of community and subsequently on their willingness to become involved in associations (e.g. Verba and Nie 1972: 231). Second, increasing city size might also invite free-ridership, because rational individuals in large social groups may be tempted not to engage in voluntary

City size and associational ecologies 229 joint action, in the hope that others will provide the collective benefits (Olson 1965). Social connectedness In the previous subsection we argued that absolute density and diversity of associational ecologies are likely to increase with city size. These trends will also affect the social connectedness of the associations in these networks. Obviously, an organization that operates in a densely populated (in absolute terms) and a highly diverse ecology will have to maintain more contacts with other organizations to further the interests of its membership (and perform its public sphere and institutional/governance functions). Moreover, as Dahl and Tufte (1973: 91–4) argue, in a more densely populated and diverse ecology, the number of potentially conflicting interests is higher. This requires more efforts to accommodate potential conflicts through formal and informal inter-organizational contacts. Fortunately, larger communities also allow for the existence of relatively large organizations that have a capacity to employ professionals, thereby enhancing the association’s capacity for keeping in touch with other organizations. Therefore, in large communities there is not only a higher need for accommodation via inter-organizational contacting, but also a capacity to meet such a need through professionalization. For these reasons we expect that there will be a positive relationship between city size and the social interconnectedness of local organizations. Political connectedness With regard to the political connectedness of associations, two factors counterbalance each other. On the one hand, the absolute density and the diversity of associational ecologies play a key role. A high density and diversity are likely to enhance the conflict potential and the competitiveness of the local political arena (logic of mobilization). This induces an increased need for a civic association to keep in close contact with public officials. Therefore, one would expect that both the overall level of political connectedness and the contacts with local politicians and political office-holders are likely to increase with city size. This is, however, only part of the story. We should also realize that the number of local political office-holders and officers may not increase in proportion with city size and absolute associational density. Therefore, in large municipalities, it might be relatively more difficult to get in touch with local government (Dahl and Tufte 1973: 66–88) or local politicians and political officeholders in particular, since it is presumably especially difficult to get in touch with the political stratum of local government (mayor, aldermen and councillors; Dahl and Tufte 1973: 87). This argument pertains to the ‘logic of accessibility’. It is not a priori evident which of these two arguments

230 Baglioni et al. is correct. Actually both arguments may be valid and outweigh one another. Empirical research will have to provide evidence to settle this dispute. In looking at the empirical results we will be especially interested in the overall number of contacts with local government, politicians and political office-holders, and with local civil servants. A combination of such evidence may shed some light on the logics underlying associational contacts with local government. Activism and voluntarism In our previous discussion we have identified two mechanisms that might make us expect that city size will be negatively related to the degree of voluntarism and activism. City size might not only negatively affect people’s propensity to join voluntary organizations, but it might also impair their willingness to become actively engaged. We have already seen that increasing city size might lead to a decline of community and an increasing tendency to free-ride on the efforts of fellow citizens. On the basis of these mechanisms we might expect a negative relationship between city size and activism and voluntarism. This tendency might be further strengthened by the larger scale of organizations in large cities and the associated trends of increasing organizational formalization and professionalization. An alternative argument would imply that frequent social and political conflicts in big cities might have a positive effect on activism and volunteering (Verba and Nie 1972: 229–31). Only a look at the empirical evidence will allow us to evaluate the empirical validity of these competing claims.

Research design For analysing the relationship between city size and these aspects of local associational ecologies we will use a larger database than other chapters in this book. In three countries we have collected additional data taking into account differences in the size of the localities. This was the case in East and West Germany, Spain and the French- and German-speaking parts of Switzerland. Table 11.1 provides information on the 14 cases used in this chapter, as well as on the response rates obtained in the study. Our analysis pertains to cities with 4,000 and more residents.7 As we see, response rates vary between 30 per cent and almost 80 per cent. However, we do not consider that response rates are biased in any way that can affect the relationships we are analysing. Indeed, since we are not primarily interested in describing the distribution of the variables we study, but in the relationship between these variables and community size, any potential problem of representation related to unequal response rates is not deemed crucial for our conclusions. In order to analyse the relationship between city size and the nature of local associational ecologies we have employed a most similar systems

Municipality

Sabadell Caldes de Montbui

Mannheim Vaihingen/Enz Althütte

Chemnitz Limbach-Oberfrohna Bobritzsch

Berne Thun Bolligen

Lausanne Yverdon-les-bains Crissier

Country/region

E-Catalonia E-Catalonia

D-West D-West D-West

D-East D-East D-East

CH-German CH-German CH-German

CH-French CH-French CH-French

125,238 24,000 6,120

122,537 39,854 6,300

259,246 27,552 4,887

319,944 27,700 4,044

185,270 12,879

No. of inhabitants

Table 11.1 Our communities, their size and response rates

925 194 28

1,198 229 60

1,388 309 53

5,002 437 49

1,129 106

No. of organizations mapped

473 104 22

665 118 44

687 194 39

1,618 266 35

360 46

No. of organizations in dataset

51.8 54.6 78.6

63.6 52.8 75.0

49.5 62.8 73.6

32.4 60.9 71.4

31.9 43.4

Response rate

232 Baglioni et al. design (Lijphart 1971). When selecting the communities, care was taken that size would be the main differentiating factor. We will only compare cities within a particular region of a country to control for the effect of all sorts of systemic inter-regional and cross-national variation. For historical and cultural reasons, we have treated East- and West-German cities/villages as well as the cities/villages in the French- and German-speaking part of Switzerland as coming from distinct regions. Table 11.2 shows some major economic, social and political differences of our cities and villages.8 Our two Spanish localities share most of their characteristics with the exception of the greater proportion of agricultural workers in Caldes de Montbui, as we would expect in a rural area. The immigrant population of Caldes is also slightly larger. In addition, the political background is also similar, since both in Sabadell and Caldes a coalition government of several parties (primarily centre-left wing and Catalan nationalist parties) were in place when this study was conducted. In West Germany, Vaihingen and Althütte were selected as comparators to Mannheim, because they are typical of medium- and small-sized towns in the same area. They share the same local institutional framework (the ‘Süddeutsche Ratsverfassung’, where the mayor is directly elected and is head of the council and the administration). Although their mayors belong to different parties, the same parties dominate the local councils. Finally, their historical, cultural and social characteristics are similar (Northern Baden-Württemberg, religious heterogeneity, comparatively low unemployment rates, and percentages of foreigners being typical for West Germany). For similar reasons Limbach-Oberfrohna and Bobritzsch have been chosen in East Germany to be compared to Chemnitz. Again, they share the Saxonian local institutional framework (direct election of mayors). And again, they are similar in their historical, cultural and social structure (former GDR, religious and ethnic homogeneity, and a high rate of unemployment). In Switzerland, communities from two cantons were selected: the German-speaking canton of Bern and the French-speaking canton of Vaud. Within each of the two cantons, three communities have then been selected: the cantonal capital (Bern and Lausanne), a regional centre (Thun and Yverdon-les-bains) and a suburb (Bolligen and Crissier). The criteria for selecting the local communities have been their size and their insertion into the communal structure of the canton. The communities selected in the two cantons are of comparable size. In addition, socioeconomic criteria have been taken into account. The regional centres, Yverdon-les-bains and Thun, represent two medium-sized towns that have been hit by economic difficulties (de-localization and de-industrialization). Moreover, all the localities present the typical Swiss consociationalist political structure: all the major parties, social democrats and conservative, are part of the Executive.

Sabadell Caldes de Montbui Mannheim Vaihingen/Enz Althütte Chemnitz

Limbach-Oberfr. Bobritzsch Berne

Thun

Bolligen

Lausanne

Yverdon-les-bains

Crissier

E-Catalonia E-Catalonia D-West D-West D-West D-East

D-East D-East CH-German

CH-German

CH-German

CH-French

CH-French

CH-French

Note a District data.

Municipality

Country/ region

4.7

4.8

4.9

1.5

3.3

7.8 8.1 2

3 2 5.0 2.3 2.1 8.8

Unemployment rate (over total population %)

0.2

12

0.0

9

7

– – 0.2

0.3 3 0.0 2.8 1.1a 0.7

% working population in agriculture

17

21

12.7

23

23

19.2 – 15

40 41 28.1 46.5 39.9a 16.1

% working population in industry

42

24

36

6

12

2.5 0.01 20

2.5 4.4 22.2 13.9 2.7 2.4

% immigrant immigrant population

30:40:30

54:32:14

31:41:38

68:23:9

67:25:8

23:3:74 32:2:66 64:27:9

– – 30:33:37 50:21:28 69:16:14 14:2:83

% Protestant: Catholic: no rel./others

Table 11.2 An overview of the 16 communities: economic, social and political background

Left-centre nationalist Left-nationalist Conservative-liberal Conservative-liberal Only local parties Conservatives Socialists Social democrats Conservative Conservative Social democrats Green Conservatives Conservatives Social democrats Conservatives Social democrats Social democrats Conservatives Green Conservatives Social democrats Conservatives Independents

Party/coalition in government

Conservative

Conservative

Green

Social democrats

Social democrats

Conservative Conservative Social democrats

Socialist Socialist Social-democrat Local party Conservative Social-democrat

Party chiefexecutive (mayor)

234 Baglioni et al. If within each of these five regions we should find similar results, this will be considered as rather strong evidence of a relation between city size and the character of associational life. Nevertheless, we should be aware of the limitations of our data. First, the number of cases within each of the separate comparisons is extremely small. Therefore the results of our analyses are bound to be suggestive rather than conclusive. Second, the small N problem also denies the possibility of any multivariate analyses. Whereas many of the theoretical arguments imply that city-size effects run through intervening variables, our research design does not allow us to test a theoretically implied causal model. Moreover, it will be impossible to disentangle the effects of city size and several variables that may be closely associated. Dahl and Tufte (1973: 95–6) have already pointed to the fact that ‘even within a country it is difficult to sort out the unique effects of size (population) on diversity, dissent and party competition, because more populous units tend to be not merely larger but more urbanized and “modern”.’

Empirical results City size, density and diversity From our ‘Soccer Clubs Law’ we expect community size to be positively related to both absolute density and diversity. As Table 11.3 shows, our expectations with regard to absolute density are corroborated. The trend is clear in all our cities: for each of the regions, the more populous municipalities also have a higher absolute associational density.9 However, as we have emphasized in the theoretical discussion, in addition to absolute density we will also have to consider relative density. When we extend the analysis in this sense, a more differentiated picture emerges. The results do not show a consistent positive linear relation between density and city size. On the contrary, some of the scores, like those of the East-German communities, show a negative relation that we would have anticipated on the basis of Verba and Nie’s arguments. But these findings are not consistently replicated elsewhere. All in all, there is no consistent pattern of association between municipal size and the relative density of local associational life.10 When we turn to sectorial diversity and the diversity of associational activities, however, we again find a rather consistent pattern for the various regions. Across most regions community size and the diversity of the associational ecology are positively related. As size increases so does the diversity of associations (for both indicators of diversity).11 There are, however, some exceptions for Germany (East and West) and the Germanspeaking communities in Switzerland. The Germanic municipalities around 20,000–30,000 inhabitants have associational ecologies that are less diverse than the smaller communities of around 4,000–6,000. It nevertheless seems that, Bobritzsch and Althütte have associational ecologies

City size and associational ecologies 235 Table 11.3 Density and diversity of the associational ecology Country/ region

Municipality

Absolute density (no. of organizations mapped)



1,129 106




Relative density (no. of organizations mapped per 1.000 inhabitants)

Effective no. of sectorsa

Effective no. of forms of activityb

6.1 8.2

10.4 4.9

5.7 3.9

5,002 437 49

15.6 15.8 12.1

10.8 8.3 7.8

8.2 5.5 7.3

Chemnitz Limbach-Oberfr. Bobritzsch

1,388 309 53

5.4 11.2 10.8

8.9 7.3 7.8

6.3 5.8 6.0


Berne Thun Bolligen

1,198 229 60

9.7 5.7 9.5

10.6 4.7 5.7

8.0 5.6 7.0



925 194 28

7.4 8.1 4.6

8.9 5.9 4.8

7.4 5.3 4.3

Notes a Includes 35 groups of sectors or areas of activity. b Includes 15 forms of activity.

that are more diverse than we would expect given their size (around 4,000 inhabitants each). Especially when we compare these two communities with Spanish and Swiss communities of a similar size. For the purpose of consistency with the other chapters of this book, Table 11.4 additionally shows the sectorial distribution of organizations by city size using the sectorial taxonomy developed in Chapter 4. The general picture roughly confirms our earlier results with larger communities having a more diverse associational life than smaller ones. City size and social connectedness As we have seen in the theoretical section of this chapter the democratic potential of associations also lies in their capability to establish a wide network of contacts with similar organizations. Such inter-organizational contacts allow actors in civil society to become relevant players in the public sphere. Indeed, only as long as they are well connected, associations can succeed in putting community concerns on the public agenda and in making the interests of their constituents count in the public domain. Following Dahl and Tufte (1973), the main hypothesis we raised

3.4 15.1 22.5 0.7 2.3 2.3 3.7 2.0 7.7 7.0 33.2

298 82.8 62 17.2

360

Family Sports Culture/music ‘City’ concerns Politics ‘New’ politics General welfare Group-specific welfare Economic interest Religion Other concerns most important

Valid total N in % No valid info N in %

Total N

%

Sabadell

Spain

46

38 82.6 8 17.4

– 21.1 34.2 5.3 2.6 – – – – – 36.8

1618

1,202 74.3 416 25.7

8.3 15.6 11.7 4.2 2.7 0.7 4.4 8.5 3.5 9.2 31.2

266

228 85.7 38 14.3

11.4 11.0 10.1 2.6 1.3 0.4 1.8 2.6 2.6 23.7 32.5

Germany West ■ Caldes de Mannheim Vaihingen/ Montbui Enz % % %

35

27 77.1 8 22.9

18.5 3.7 11.1 7.4 – – – – – 22.2 37.0

687

489 71.2 198 28.8

10.6 22.1 10.0 1.4 0.4 0.2 2.0 5.3 2.5 14.7 30.7

194

120 61.8 74 38.2

9.2 23.3 11.7 1.7 – – 3.3 2.5 1.7 24.2 22.5

Germany East ■ Althütte Chemnitz LimbachOberfr. % % %

39

25 64.1 14 35.9

12.0 16.0 4.0 – 4.0 4.0 – 4.0 – 32.0 24.0

%

Bobritzsch %

Berne

665

410 61.7 255 38.3

118

75 63.6 43 36.4

1.3 37.3 20.0 1.3 6.7 – – 8.0 1.3 9.3 14.7

%

Thun

Swiss German

4.4 24.1 10.2 6.3 3.9 2.4 1.2 8.5 1.7 5.1 32.0

■

Table 11.4 Sector taxonomy: basic frequencies per city (in % of all valid sector information)

44

25 56.8 19 43.2

12.0 40.0 8.0 – 12.0 – – 4.0 – – 24.0

%

Bollingen

13.7 17.7 10.0 3.2 3.6 4.8 2.8 9.6 3.6 3.2 27.7

%

Lausanne

473

41 39.4 63 60.6

12.2 22.0 12.2 2.4 – 2.4 – 9.8 2.4 9.8 26.8

Yverdon les Bains %

104

Swiss French

249 52.6 224 47.4

■

22

8 36.4 14 63.6

12.5 25.0 12.5 – – – 12.5 – 12.5 – 25.0

%

Crissier

City size and associational ecologies 237 Table 11.5 Social connectedness by community (in % of all local associations) N

Country/ region

Municipality

No contacts at all

Mean no. of contacts



32.5 39.5

1.5 1.4

335 43



51.8 59.3 58.8

1.1 0.7 0.9

1,461 260 34



48.9 71.3 51.3

1.1 0.6 1.1

661 178 39


Berne Thun Bolligen

38.5 51.8 40.5

1.3 0.9 1.1

602 110 42



34.7 35.2 50.0

1.5 1.3 0.9

383 88 20

implied that social connectedness would increase with city size. Results based on a pooled analysis for all countries/regions (not presented here) showed that, generally, most local associations are embedded in some sort of social network. Indeed, more than half of the organizations (56.8 per cent) have one or more contacts with similar social actors. There is only a minority (38.9 per cent) of associations, though a sizeable minority, that does not report contacts with other organizations. Table 11.5 provides a more detailed picture. The table demonstrates that in general Spanish and Swiss associations have developed more contacts with other organizations than their German counterparts. But when we have a look within each country/region, it is clear that there is no consistent positive relation between size and social connectedness.12 Still we should realize that in all of our five regions the highest mean contact scores are to be found in the biggest cities. But it is also evident from Table 11.5, however, that we do not see a consistent decline of social connectedness with declining community size. City size and political connectedness In the theoretical section of this chapter we presented two different arguments relating size and political connectedness. On the one hand, largescale is likely to create a strong need for political contacting by associations (mobilization logic). On the other hand, in large cities it might be more difficult to get in touch with the relatively few political officeholders (accessibility logic). Empirical evidence may shed some light on the validity of either argument.

238 Baglioni et al. If we first look at the mean political contact scores in relation to size (Table 11.6) we see no clear pattern.13 Still the detailed results are informative. First, there is no region in which we find evidence of a positive relation. This contradicts the ‘mobilization logic’. In two regions (Spain and in the canton of Bern) we find a negative relation. This is in line with the ‘accessibility logic’. In two other regions (West Germany and the canton of Vaud) an interesting curvilinear pattern emerges in which both in the small towns and in the big cities we find a relatively high contact score, whereas this score is lowest in the medium-sized cities. This suggests that the medium-sized cities may have the worst of both worlds. They lack both the mobilizing context of a big city and the accessibility of small towns. This curvilinear pattern might therefore be seen as the combined effects of both theoretical logics outlined previously. Finally, the pattern in East Germany is hard to interpret on the basis of either perspective. When we take a closer look at Table 11.6 it is clear that in many respects the ‘accessibility logic’ has a better fit with the data than its rival, the ‘mobilization logic’. In the left part of the table we find the percentage of associations that has had a particular type of contact. There are four types of contacts and we have five regions. If we inspect the 20 cells of this part of the table we find that in 12 cases there is a negative relation between size and contacts with local government and local politicians. The pattern is especially clear for contacts with members of the executive, civil servants and council members, and rather ambiguous for parties and politicians. It is actually in the case of contacts with parties and politicians where we find some evidence for a positive relation (especially in Spain and West Germany) between size and associational contacts. In part, this may be the result of the fact that the development of a party system is a positive function of size and the higher degree of social differentiation and political competitiveness of urban societies.14 The first column of Table 11.6 indicates that generally associational contacts with civil servants are most frequent. This is in line with the findings in Chapter 9, where it is also argued that often these bureaucratic contacts are the first point of entry into the local political system, and that these contacts might also constitute the only form of contact for an association. Therefore, we also have established to what extent contacts with local government in big cities are exclusively ‘bureaucratic encounters’ (final column of Table 11.6). Since in larger municipalities it may be more difficult to establish political contacts, one might expect that the percentage of exclusively bureaucratic contacts would be relatively higher in big cities. Indeed, our results indicate that this might be the case in Spain and for both East and West Germany. There, increasing size of the locality tends to reduce local government contacts to mere ‘bureaucratic encounters’. The patterns in the cantons of Vaud and Bern, different as they are, do not support this hypothesis.

City size and associational ecologies 239 Table 11.6 Contacts with political authorities and institutions Country/ region

Municipality

Civil Executive servants

City council

Local parties or politicians

Yes

Yes

Yes

Yes

E-Catalonia Sabadell 76 E-Catalonia Caldes de Montbui 93

50 72

46 71



61 65 67

43 43 48



66 74 50

CH-German Berne CH-German Thun CH-German Bolligen CH-French CH-French CH-French


Mean political contact scores

% contact only civil servants

34 27

3.0 3.7

19 9

50 55 62

45 29 23

2.4 2.2 2.4

11 10 6

44 60 44

26 38 61

31 17 27

2.0 2.2 2.0

19 14 3

67 88 91

39 51 56

45 57 32

36 35 44

2.3 2.8 3.0

21 18 34

77 86 95

53 58 79

43 37 33

40 27 37

2.6 2.2 3.1

23 28 23

Note The table first presents the percentage of all associations that has had some contact with a particular group of officers or officials and, then, presents the mean political contact scores, and the percentage of associations with only bureaucratic contacts.

City size, membership, activism and voluntarism The theoretical considerations relating city size to membership, activism and voluntarism implied that small size might result in stronger community identification, that in turn might stimulate membership and active involvement (either in the form of active membership or volunteering). Having only associational data at hand, we are not able to test the first hypothesis. What we can test, however, is whether organizational mobilization is relatively stronger in smaller than in larger communities. With regard to mobilization of members there appears to be no systematic evidence for a (positive) size effect. Whereas in Spain and in West and East Germany we do find a positive relation between city size and organizational size, this is not the case for the two Cantons studied in Switzerland. Therefore, we conclude that organizational size (in terms of membership) is not related to city size. Furthermore, we have also estimated the total number of memberships per city (column 3, Table 11.7) and the total number of memberships relative to the population size of the city (column 4, Table 11.7).15 Because of multiple memberships the

240 Baglioni et al. Table 11.7 Size and organizational membership Country/ region

Municipality

Average no. of members/ organization

No. of organizations mapped

Estimated no. of members per city

Estimated no. of members in % of population



185 133

1,129 ,106

208,865 14,098

113 109



144 105 83

5,002 ,437 , 49

720,288 45,885 4,067

225 166 101



98 67 40

1,388 ,309 , 53

136,024 20,703 2,120

53 75 43


Berne Thun Bolligen

206 207 204

1,198 ,229 , 60

246,788 47,403 12,240

201 119 194



190 165 187

,925 ,194 , 28

175,750 32,010 5,236

140 133 86

total number of memberships might well exceed the number of residents and therefore the percentages reported can exceed 100 per cent. Again, the results show no consistent pattern in the relation between city size and organizational mobilization. There is, thus, no conclusive evidence of a mobilization effect of city size.16 But what about activism and volunteering? Do organizations in smaller local contexts enhance the willingness of the members to become actively engaged? Looking at the degree of activism (ratio of active to passive members) we find negative relations in Spain and West Germany and curvilinear patterns (with highest activism in medium-sized towns) in the other regions.17 With regard to volunteering (ratio of volunteers to passive members within an organization) the empirical evidence is equally ambiguous. In three out of five regions/countries we find a linear pattern of association between size and volunteering. But while the relationship is negative in West Germany and Spain (more volunteering in the smallest place), there is a positive relationship in the canton of Bern (more volunteering in the larger city) and a curvilinear pattern in East Germany and in the canton of Vaud (lowest degree of volunteering in the medium-sized city).18 Bearing in mind the limitations of our database, we shall conclude that city size does not seem to affect the organizational capacities of turning passive members active or to enhance individual volunteering in associations. The more familiar context of a village or a small town does not

City size and associational ecologies 241 Table 11.8 Activism and volunteering in civic associations (mean values) Country/ region

Municipality

Active to passive ratio

N

Volunteers to passive ratio

N


Sabadell Caldes de Mont.

0.56 0.58

, 338 , 43

0.17 0.19

342 43



0.55 0.69 0.70

1,453 , 215 , 28

0.27 0.34 0.43

1,494 146 22



0.69 0.74 0.66

, 595 , 178 , 31

0.31 0.22 0.32

451 142 27


Berne Thun Bolligen

0.55 0.58 0.52

, 615 , 114 , 43

0.21 0.20 0.11

625 111 43



0.56 0.60 0.56

, 423 , 99 , 20

0.20 0.17 0.21

428 100 22

Note The activity index runs from 0 to 1 with 0 indicating ‘no activists at all in the organization’ and 1 indicating ‘all members of the organization are activists’. The index of voluntarism goes from 0 to 1 with 0 indicating ‘no volunteers at all in the organization’ and 1 indicating ‘all members of the organization are volunteers’.

necessarily enhance civic engagement within local organizations and does not always stimulate the developmental function of associations (Warren 2001a) more than larger contexts.

Conclusions Are there any (democratically relevant) differences in local organizational ecologies between large and small cities? From a democratic perspective four aspects appear to be important: the associational density and diversity in a locality, the social and political connectedness of the associations, and the intra-organizational degree of voluntarism and activism. If such aspects were closely related to city size, size would have to be considered as a crucial factor in determining the public sphere function, the institutional or governance function, and the developmental function of local civic organizations (see Warren 2001a). As so often, research results pertaining to the existence of such relations are not straightforward. Some size effects showed up, others did not – although their theoretical plausibility was strong. First of all we found that the ‘Soccer Clubs Law’ holds true. The absolute density and the diversity (especially the sectorial diversity) of the

242 Baglioni et al. associational universe increase with city size; but size is essentially unrelated to the relative density of the associational landscape. Concerning the social and political connectedness of associations the results are less obvious. Integration of associations in inter-organizational networks is unrelated to the size of the community. Political connectedness, however, is related to city size. There are many indications that both the overall volume of political contacts and the existence of particular types of contacts are not positively related to city size. This falsifies the ‘logic of mobilization’, that implied that social conflicts and political competition in urban settings would stimulate political contacts. Rather, associations in smaller communities tend to maintain more contacts with local government administration. This might be interpreted as evidence for a greater accessibility of small-scale government (logic of accessibility). Finally, there seems to be no clear indication that smallness enhances civic engagement in voluntary organizations, activism or volunteering. Therefore, size of locality does not strengthen the developmental capacity of the local civic organizations. Summarizing these results, we concur with Newton (1982) when he states that ‘small is not as beautiful as commonly supposed’.

Notes 1 For a more extensive review of this literature we refer to Chapter 1 in this volume. 2 For a full discussion of these functions please refer to Chapter 1. 3 For measuring diversity we have adapted Laakso and Taagepera’s (1979) indicator for the effective number of parties. This type of measure allows us to combine the number of sectors/activities and the degree of concentration of associations in these sectors/activities. Sectorial diversity is formally defined as [1/(sum of the squared proportions of each sector)], whereas diversity of activity (based on question 4 in the Common Core) is computed as [1/(sum of the squared proportions of each form of activity)]. These measures have a straightforward interpretation. If in city A there are 100 associations that are active in ten sectors and there are ten associations active in each sector the number of effective sectors is 10.0. If in city B there also are 100 associations but all of them are active in the sports sector the measure of sectorial diversity would be at a minimum, i.e. equal 1.0 and we would argue that the associational ecology in city B is less diverse than in city A. 4 Moreover, as Chapter 8 has indicated, social and political associational connectedness go very much together. 5 Further details about this index and about the relevant items can be found in Chapter 8 of this volume. 6 In particular, see Chapter 3 of this volume. 7 Initially we also had information on two even smaller Swiss cities (Champagne and Blumenstein) and one small Spanish community (Mejorada del Campo), but the response rates in two of them (Champagne and Mejorada del Campo) was relatively low and therefore there were so few associations left for these cases that we decided to exclude these communities from our further analyses. For reasons of comparability we subsequently decided to exclude Blumenstein

City size and associational ecologies 243

8 9 10 11

12

13

14 15 16

17 18

as well. For Spain this also implied that we could only explore the intraregional variation in the Catalan region. For further information on cities/towns selected, see Chapter 2 of this volume A pooled analysis provides confirmation of this. In the smallest municipalities in our analyses the absolute density per city is 59.2. In the medium-sized cities this figure is 292.3 and in the largest cities 1928.4. Table not shown. A pooled analysis points also in this direction. In the smallest municipalities in our analyses the relative density per city is 9.0. In the medium-sized cities this figure is 10.2 and in the largest cities 8.8. Table not included. This relationship is also confirmed by a pooled analysis. In the smallest municipalities in our analyses the sectorial diversity per city is 6.2. In the mediumsized cities this figure is 6.5 and in the largest cities 9.9. And for the diversity of type of activities in the smallest cities we find a score of 5.7. In the mediumsized cities this figure is 5.6 and in the largest cities 6.1. Table not included. A pooled analysis provides confirmation of this. In the smallest municipalities in our analyses the average number of inter-organizational contacts per city is 1.12. In the medium-sized cities this figure is 0.79 and in the largest cities 1.24. Table not included. The same pattern is found with pooled analyses. In the smallest municipalities in our analyses the average number of local government contacts per city is 2.82. In the medium-sized cities this figure is 2.36 and in the largest cities 2.45. Table not included. We should, however, also be aware that this category may be somewhat ambiguous, since councillors and members of the executive are also politicians. See Chapter 3 for the description of the estimation procedure. A pooled analysis suggests a positive relation. In the smallest municipalities the mean number of members per organization is 119. In the medium-sized cities this figure is 136 and in the largest cities 143. And for the estimated relative number of members (as a percentage of population) in the smallest cities we find a score of 98, in the medium-sized cities this figure is 123 and in the largest cities 133. We have to realize, however, that the intermunicipal differences are rather small as compared to the large standard deviations within these groups. On the basis of the combination per country/region and these further considerations we conclude that there is no convincing evidence for a positive relation. Table not included. A pooled analysis confirms the ambiguity. In the smallest municipalities the activist ratio is 0.61. In the medium-sized cities this figure is 0.67 and in the largest cities 0.58. Table not included. A pooled analysis suggests a positive relation. In the smallest municipalities the volunteer ratio is 0.23. In the medium-sized cities this figure is 0.24 and in the largest cities 0.26. But the differences are small and the patterns per country differ too much to draw a firm conclusion. Table not included.

12 The political and cultural context of associational life Hanspeter Kriesi, Laura Morales and Melanie Walter-Rogg

Introduction This chapter deals with three additional cities in Germany, Switzerland and Spain – three federalist countries, where the political and cultural context varies considerably from one region to the other. Chapter 2 has extensively introduced our six core cities. Here we add four additional cities, one each from Germany and Switzerland, and two from Spain. For Germany, the crucial regional distinction today is the one between East and West. Among our core cities, we have included Mannheim – a city from the West. In this chapter, we introduce Chemnitz – a city which is in many ways comparable to Mannheim, but which is situated in the Eastern part of Germany. For Switzerland, we add the capital of the largest Frenchspeaking canton to our core city of Berne, which is the capital of an equally large Swiss German-speaking canton. In the case of Spain, the city of Sabadell will be compared with two other cities that represent contrasting sociopolitical contexts: Alcalá de Henares in the region of Madrid, and Bilbao in the Basque Country1. In each case, one of the cities represents what we could term the ‘core culture’ or the ‘majoritarian culture’, while the second (and third) city represent cultural minorities. In the case of Germany, the West constitutes the core and the ‘new Länder’ represent a new minority culture that has followed its own historical trajectory for almost half a century after the Second World War. This is the reason why we expect it to diverge considerably from the core culture of the West with respect to associational mobilization. In the case of Switzerland, the Swiss Germans constitute the dominant majority of the country, with the French-speaking regions representing the largest of three territorially concentrated linguistic minorities – the Italian- and Romantsch-speaking minorities being even smaller than the French-speaking one. However, in the Swiss case, each language group does not constitute a homogenous political context. Swiss federalism divides each group into several political subsystems – the cantons. Nevertheless, the French-speaking cantons are to some extent characterized by political institutions which distinguish them quite clearly from the Swiss

The political and cultural context

245

German-speaking ones. This is why we would expect them to constitute contexts which are quite distinct from those in the Swiss German part of the country, as far as the mobilization of associational participation is concerned. Contrary to the German case, however, the Swiss regions have in common an uninterrupted, continuous trajectory of political development which is quite exceptional in the European context. The differences in the Swiss case do not have anything to do with recent history, but much more with institutions that were established a long time ago. In the case of Spain, Alcalá de Henares represents the core culture, while Sabadell and Bilbao represent two different peripheries – Catalonia and the Basque Country. Both Catalonia and the Basque country represent two cases of strong peripheral nationalism in Spain – in contrast to the more centralist identity of the region of Madrid. This introduces important elements for expecting differences in the configuration of the associational life of the three regions. By contrast, both the central and peripheral regions in Spain have experienced the same regime break as Spain emerged from Franco’s authoritarian regime in 1975. This leads us to expect a rather similar development in both central and peripheral regions in Spain. The fact that both the centre and the periphery have experienced a regime break in Spain distinguishes it both from Germany, where only the East has experienced such a break, and from Switzerland, where neither of the two contexts we are going to compare in this chapter made such an experience. Thus, the remarkable aspect of our three-country comparative design is that the regional differences with respect to the local associational development are likely to interact with the occurrence or absence of a regime break. Schematically, we may expect the following regional differences as a function of the impact of regime breaks and regionally specific factors: We shall now briefly present our contexts, first our three additional cities, and then the regional contexts within which these cities are located. Table 12.2 gives a brief overview over the seven cities which we compare in this chapter. After having obtained a firm grasp of our contexts, we shall then proceed to analyse the regional similarities and differences with regard to the key aspects of local associational life that have been presented in the previous chapters. Table 12.1 Expected regional differences in the three countries Regime break in

Spain Germany Switzerland Note x regime break.

Regional differences: presumably based on

Centre

Periphery

x – –

x x –

Peripheral nationalism Regime break Institutional differences

246 Kriesi et al. Table 12.2 The seven cities Country/region

Municipality

Inhabitants

Spain Basque C. Basque C. Catalonia Madrid

Bilbao: Deusto district Bilbao: Errekalde district Sabadell Alcalá de Henares

53,836 45,937 185,270 172,418

Germany Western part Eastern part

Mannheim Chemnitz

319,944 259,246

Switzerland Swiss German French-speaking

Bern Lausanne

122,537 125,489

Bilbao 367,929

A brief presentation of the additional cities Bilbao (two districts) and Alcalá de Henares When the political context is disregarded, Alcalá and Bilbao are not very different from Sabadell. All three are cities dominated by the service sector, but each one with a strong industrial component. The main difference would lie in the much greater importance of Bilbao for its region and in its size. Although Bilbao is not the official capital of the Basque Country (Vitoria is), it is the main social, cultural and economic centre of the region; and although political power is officially located in the Basque parliament in Vitoria, the main party headquarters are located in Bilbao. In addition, together with Barcelona and Madrid, Bilbao is one of the main cities in Spain, especially in terms of its economic influence, even if it is only the ninth with respect to population. Bilbao was traditionally one of the main industrial cities in Spain. It attracted big waves of internal immigrants from the more rural regions of Spain, many of which populated one of the districts we study – Errekalde.2 Its economic prosperity was strongly linked to the heavy industry, which led to a deep industrial and economic crisis in the 1980s. Unemployment rates have been very high in Bilbao and its metropolitan area in the 1990s, reaching levels as high as 20 per cent, but the situation has improved significantly with unemployment down to 4.3 per cent, which is low by Spanish standards. Bilbao is one of the leading cities in the country and its economic situation is one of the best nation-wide: the fifth in industrial activity and the sixth in overall economic activity (La Caixa 2002). Alcalá de Henares is very similar to Sabadell. It is a medium-sized city of the metropolitan area of Madrid, and it is the fifth largest in the region.3 Its development has been centered on two different poles: the university and the industrial area. As in the cases of Bilbao and Sabadell, Alcalá is a


247

city that has enormously expanded due to internal immigration. Only 15.5 per cent of its current population was born in Alcalá, with more than 40 per cent having been born in other regions of Spain, and in recent years sizeable minorities from Eastern Europe – mainly from Poland and Romania – have settled in the city. In economic terms, Alcalá is a vibrant city, with relatively low levels of unemployment (5.9 per cent), per capita income levels near the average of the region of Madrid and on the commuter-belt to the city of Madrid. Notwithstanding, Alcalá is a city with its own historic and cultural identity, and in that sense it is not the typical ‘dormitory’ city. When the political context is taken into account the similarities are less pronounced. The political landscapes of Sabadell and Bilbao are influenced by the nationalist–centralist cleavage, while Alcalá lacks this conflict and its local politics is dominated by the traditional right–left divide. Both Sabadell and Alcalá have traditionally been governed by left-wing parties. Sabadell has been governed for over 20 years by the post-communist group Iniciativa per Catalunya, which lost the local elections for the Socialist party in 1999. In any case, although nationalist parties are represented at the local council – and had been in the coalition government during the 1999–2003 term – their weight has always been fairly limited in Sabadell. In fact, Sabadell has been a traditional stronghold of left-wing parties since the first local elections. In turn, Alcalá has been mainly governed by the Socialist party, with the exception of the 1995–1999 term in which the centre-right Partido Popular won the local council. On the opposite case, Bilbao has, since the first local elections of 1979, been dominated by the Basque Nationalist Party. Nevertheless, the electoral strength of the Basque nationalists and the statewide parties has generally been very balanced across time. Chemnitz Chemnitz and Mannheim have quite similar characteristics, but their respective social and economic contexts are expected to have a substantial effect on associational life. Between the Second World War and the German Unification, East Germany had a highly centralized government (Neckel 1992). The national government of the SED in Berlin hardly allowed for independent decision-making at the local level. The localities had to fulfil specialized economic functions. Chemnitz was allowed to stick to its old tradition in mechanical engineering, but it also had to be an example of a ‘perfect’ socialist town. That is the reason why a lot of rebuilding took place and the town was called ‘Karl-Marx-Stadt’ from 1953 to 1990 (Friedrichs and Häußermann 1990: 315). Chemnitz and the core town of Mannheim share similar structural characteristics. Mannheim is the second largest city in Baden-Württemberg (319,944 inhabitants) and the economic and cultural heartland of

248 Kriesi et al. the Rhine-Neckar-Triangle, a major area of industrial concentration with a mix of machine tool industries, chemical and health industries and the electronic industry. Chemnitz is the fourth largest city in Eastern Germany in terms of population (259,246 inhabitants). It is one of the most successful technological and innovative locations in East Germany and the most industrialized region in the Free State of Saxony. Chemnitz’s own economy has continued its 200-year-old tradition focusing on mechanical and machine tool industries, textile traditional industries and the automotive industry. Restructuring has brought these traditional industries up to contemporary standards. Both cities have successful universities, Mannheim is famous for economic science skills and Chemnitz has an advanced status in computer technology. The unemployment rate in Chemnitz (16.5 per cent) is higher than in Mannheim (9.4 per cent), there is less qualified staff in the Eastern city and the standard of living is lower. Generally, the Eastern towns have enormous financial and structural problems. The productivity is 40 per cent lower than in the Western part of the country. Only Saxony reaches productivity levels similar to those of the West (Gornig and Häußermann 1999: 358ff.). Most Eastern communities have experienced a declining population since Unification, a lack of financial resources and a low investment capacity (Friedrichs and Häußermann 2001). The population has decreased especially in industrialized cities like Chemnitz (11.7 per cent in 1990–1996). Both Chemnitz and Mannheim have coalition governments headed by social-democratic mayors. The local political system in Chemnitz is dominated by two parties of the left – the SPD (16 seats) and PDS (16 seats). But the conservative CDU is still the largest party in the city and has a lot of influence. Thus, the mayor has to secure a majority in the city council for every issue. This is what Walter-Rogg et al. (2003) call a ‘quasi-presidential system at the local level’, because the council and the mayor are directly elected and therefore have a legitimacy which is independent of the local parliament. Lausanne Berne and Lausanne also are two cities of similar size. They are the capitals of the second (Berne) and third (Vaud) largest Swiss cantons (in terms of number of residents) respectively. Both cantons still have a comparatively large agricultural sector and have been rather traditional in their political and cultural orientations. In addition to being the capital of its canton, Berne is also the capital of Switzerland. However, this should not affect our comparison of the associational universe in the two cities, since we have systematically excluded from our study all associations of a solely national character. Berne as well as Lausanne are administrative and political centres with a small industrial sector: only about 15 per cent of


249

the labour force in Berne and 11 per cent in Lausanne are located there.4 They are regional centres that attract a large number of commuters, Berne even substantially more so than Lausanne. Unemployment is low in both cities in comparison with other European urban centres, but it is more than twice as high in Lausanne (4.8 per cent) than in Berne (2.2 per cent). This difference corresponds to a systematic difference between the two language regions: French-speaking Switzerland generally has more economic difficulties than the German-speaking part. However, the canton of Berne is rather poor compared to Swiss standards, while the GDP per capita of the canton of Vaud is close to the Swiss average. As in all Swiss cities, foreigners make up an important part of the population. However, their share is considerably larger in Lausanne (35.5 per cent) than it is in Berne (20.3 per cent). Both Berne and Lausanne are governed by a coalition government including members of parties from the right as well as the left; in both cities, however, the majority is from the left and the mayor is a socialdemocrat. If the two cities have much in common, they are different in one respect, which we shall elaborate somewhat more below: the directdemocratic institutions are much more elaborate in Berne than they are in Lausanne.

Associational life and regional contextual differences Institutional and political consequences of federalism One of the main hypotheses of this chapter is that the federalist structure of Germany, Spain and Switzerland has left an important imprint on the development of the associational sectors in these countries. As in the case of the US (Skocpol et al. 2000), federalism has not only provided an incentive to build organizations which allow citizens to influence public opinion and politicians at different levels of the political system, but federalism has also exerted strong pressure to organize the associations along the lines of the political system. Thus, associations in these three countries very often are national federations with regional and/or local chapters. This notwithstanding, federal institutions also have divergent features in our three cases and, therefore, introduce different political dynamics which deserve separate attention. In Germany and Switzerland, federalism is the institutional expression of a more general principle which pervades both political systems – the principle of subsidiarity. According to this principle, civil society and the economy are called upon to solve collective problems on their own. The state only intervenes when the actors from these two spheres are no longer capable of solving a problem (Kriesi 1998: 264). In the case of Switzerland, in addition, this implies that, at the moment of the first state intervention, the policy to be adopted is prestructured by the already established private solutions. It also implies an

250 Kriesi et al. elaborate interpenetration of the state and private agencies in many policy areas. Most notably, the Swiss welfare state has been constructed according to this principle and heavily relies on private institutions for the implementation of its services. By contrast, Spain has been considered a ‘quasi-federal’ or an ‘asymmetric-federal’ state by many authors (Linz 1997; Moreno 1997; Colomer 1998; Aja 1999; Fossas 1999; Requejo 1999; Máiz et al. 2002). While many areas of government are shared by central and regional governments and others are self-ruled by the Autonomous Communities (regions, hereon), the Spanish state lacks some of the standard federal institutions of multilateral coordination and cooperation that would allow to consider it as a full federal state (Subirats and Gallego 2002: 24; Máizet al. 2002). And, at the same time, the principle of subsidiarity is not the guiding principle of Spanish (quasi)federalism, because the historical process of federal institution-building has been one of power ‘devolution’ to the regions and the local governments. In this sense, decentralization in Spain has been more successful when it comes to the regional than to the local or the provincial level. Provinces in Spain are mostly administrative divisions. Spanish local autonomy, even if greater than the provincial one, is limited compared to that of other European countries, too. Local autonomy is much reduced by the limitations in budget management and expenses. In general terms, local governments in Spain are very dependent on national and regional governments (Navarro 1998), and thus their political capacity is limited. Beyond these general implications of federal structures on the political outlook of these three countries, two other specific consequences of federalism in Switzerland and Spain are of great relevance when it comes to the development of associations. In Switzerland, the member states of the Swiss Confederation – the cantons – have the capacity to organize their internal political affairs independently. This means that the political institutions vary considerably from one canton to the other, allowing for a systematic choice of the cantonal context. Most notably, the cantons differ with regard to direct-democratic institutions: they are generally much more developed in German-speaking cantons than in French-speaking ones. In the German-speaking cantons, the direct-democratic instruments are more accessible and more frequently used than in the French-speaking ones (Kriesi 1998: 96). This difference applies to the cantonal, but also to the local level. As an illustration of this difference, consider that in the City of Berne, the citizens had to vote on 130 local initiatives or referenda during the period 1980–1990, compared to only seven in the City of Lausanne (Huissoud and Joye 1991). The Latin cantons, indeed, have adopted a model of democracy which is more inspired by the model of representative government, whereas the Germanic cantons have been strongly influenced by the direct-democratic models of French revolution (Kölz 1992). Open political systems promoting direct-democratic participation like the Swiss German ones contribute to the formation of virtuous


251

citizens: as Wernli (2001) has demonstrated, German-speaking citizens are more interested in politics, they have developed a stronger political consciousness and they participate more intensely in politics. These institutional differences have a long history – they have their origin in the nineteenth century, and we expect that their cumulative socializing effect should also make itself felt with respect to the extent of social capital that exists in the two language regions today. As far as the voluntary associations are concerned, we expect the more participatory political context in the Swiss German-speaking cantons to provide for a more intense associational life than in the French-speaking ones. The opportunity of directdemocratic access provides a direct incentive to form associations for ‘advocacy’. In addition, the greater civic consciousness of the Swiss Germans should make them more inclined to get involved in the associations, not only with respect to advocacy, but also with respect to the provision of services.5 We would like to add a word of caution, however: the fact that the institutional differences more or less coincide with the language regions makes it difficult to distinguish between institutional effects and cultural effects that may have their origin in other sources. In the case of Spain, no relevant direct-democracy institutions have been created at the regional level as a result of the federalizing process. However, several participatory mechanisms have been put into practice at the local level in Spain. Almost 70 per cent of municipalities with more than 100,000 inhabitants passed citizen participation regulations during the 1987–1991 term, and these norms gave special relevance to the creation of consultative councils in which associations played a prominent role (Gomà and Font 2001: 71ff). In fact, consultative councils are among the most common and general forms of local democracy in Spain (Navarro 1997). Other forms of local democracy have not been widely applied in Spanish municipalities. And, although hard data are not readily available in this regard, the common perception by specialists is that innovative experiments with local democracy are much more common in Catalonia than in any other region. Some of the effects of these institutional differences on associational life at the local level interact with the effects of the nationalist cleavage in the Basque Country and Catalonia, the saliency of which has increased with increasing federalization. Sustaining and recreating nationalist identities in these two regions has given rise to specific policy measures to support certain types of associative participation. In this regard, both Basque and Catalan nationalism have been especially active in supporting associations with a nationalist identity and associations with ethno-cultural interests (language, culture, traditions, education, etc.). In this sense, we would expect Bilbao and Sabadell to have a more vibrant associational life, given the support certain associations receive compared to the lack of these policies towards associations in Alcalá de Henares. A further aspect, closely related to the previous one, we expect to exert an impact on the associational life of the three Spanish

252 Kriesi et al. regions is the existence of a bidimensional space of political competition in the Basque Country and Catalonia as opposed to the single left–right dimension of competition in the region of Madrid. The existence of the nationalist cleavage in the former two regions will probably have an effect on the multiplication of associations. Although the structure of the nationalist cleavage in the Basque Country and Catalonia has not had an effect similar to that of ‘pillarization’ in the Netherlands or Belgium (see van den Brand 1973, Post 1989, and Wintle 2000), the existence of the cleavage does to a certain extent foster the duplication of some types of associations. Regime change A final contextual characteristic that deserves special attention is the important regional differences that regime change has provoked in Germany. The Western and Eastern parts of Germany have had the same history and cultural tradition concerning the involvement in associations for a relatively long period of time. After the interruption by the totalitarian regime of the GDR for 45 years, the Reunification process of the 1990s brought them together once again in one and the same democratic political system. The separate historical trajectory of the Eastern part has constrained the development of its associational structure in different ways. On the one hand, the GDR regime has destroyed much of the original social capital (Putnam 1993: 169; Merkel 1994), and even if some elements of the original democratic culture may have survived, their revival is likely to take time. The communist regimes in Central and Eastern Europe either oppressed all organizations and initiatives of autonomous civic interest articulation or pushed them outside of the society (Merkel 1994: 4). So voluntary associations rarely existed and were considered as superfluous in the centralized system of Eastern Germany between 1945 and 1990. This is not to say that the GDR did not have strong associations (Süß 1989). Its constitution contained the right of coalition and organization, provided one accepted the SED-leadership. A lot of associations existed outside the SED organization, but they all had the same function: the socialization and integration of the citizens into the socialist society (Süß 1989). The churches constituted an exception (Dähn 1996; Schmid and Voelzkow 1996: 423; Gabriel 1998: 15). Under their protection it was possible to organize several autonomous civic initiatives and to contribute to the change of the regime in 1989. On the other hand, although new associations have been developing in the Eastern part since 1990, due to the short period of time that has elapsed since reunification the number of them is still not as high as in the Western part (Gabriel 1998: 7). Furthermore, with the collapse of the socialist regime in Eastern Germany the system of parties and organizations broke down as well. Only a few organizations like the ‘Red Cross’,


253

the ‘Volkssolidarität’ or the PDS survived the change of the political system. However, even these organizations were at a disadvantage with respect to the Western organization with which they had to compete, given that there had been no volunteering tradition in the East (Schmid and Voelzkow 1996: 429). In the course of the transition, the existing political system of the Federal Republic was simply taken over. This process included the transformation of institutions and organizations from the West to the East, which involved the transfer of a huge amount of resources like staff and money. The extension of the existing institutions and organizations to the Eastern part mainly occurred through support provided by the Western counterparts (Niedermayer 1996a, 1996b; Wollmann et al. 1997). However, it was uncertain whether the new organizational arrangements were suitable for the socio-structural and cultural conditions in the new Länder after 45 years of separation (Kaase et al. 1996). Not surprisingly, the transfer of these intermediate structures to East Germany led to a continuing decline of associational membership (Gabriel 1998: 10ff). Thus, the construction of a functioning associational system in the former GDR was only partly successful. The old socialist associational relationships dissolved and new commitments did not develop to the expected extent (Gabriel and Kunz 2000: 363ff). As we see, then, regime change is a crucial factor that introduces substantial differences between regions in Germany and we expect it to have an important impact on the associational sector. By contrast, regime change in Spain – the democratization of the country after Franco’s death affected all regions equally, and thus we do not expect that this factor would introduce any substantial differences across our three regions. Let us now briefly summarize: in Spain, both core and peripheral regions witnessed a regime break which led to a far-reaching reconstruction of the associational systems at the local level in both regions. To the extent that the impact of the regime break predominates, all other factors probably are of secondary importance only. If anything, repression had been more extensive in the peripheral regions, which may suggest that the systems in the core regions should have been more developed before the break. However, the particular city we have selected for Spain’s core region – Alcalá de Henares – has experienced very rapid growth in the more recent past, which is to suggest that in this city, for reasons which have nothing to do with the political past, the local associational system may have developed only belatedly. To the extent that we find regional differences in Spain, they should be attributable to the nationalist mobilization in the two peripheral regions. In Germany, the expected regional differences will be mainly the result of the regime break experienced in the East, but not the West. We expect a more developed associational life in the West, even if the East is catching up after the regime break. In Switzerland, finally, we expect regional differences, which will be mainly the result of the institutional differences between the two regions: here we

254 Kriesi et al. expect a more developed associational life in the core German-speaking city of Berne.

Results Levels of activity Looking first at the number of associations mapped per 1,000 inhabitants in our project, the expectations are borne out for Switzerland and Germany (Table 12.3): the peripheries are less well organized than the respective centres. In the case of Spain, the number of associations we found in the Spanish periphery is higher than that in the corresponding centre. This difference may possibly be the result of the fact that Alcalá is a rapidly developing city, which has not yet had the time to build an associational system differentiated enough for the rapidly growing number of residents. It may, however, also be indicative of a generally livelier associational life in the two peripheries. Comparing the two peripheries, there are hardly any differences between Catalonia and the Basque country in this respect. To the extent that we will find no such differences in the subsequent analyses, we shall group the two Bilbao districts and Sabadell together in a single category. The impact of the critical historical junctures of the end of the Franco regime in Spain (1975) and of the end of the communist regime in East Germany (1989) becomes apparent when we compare the age structure of the associations in the respective countries with the age structure of the associations in Switzerland, which did not experience any such historical break. In the case of Spain, more than two-thirds of the associations existing today have been founded after the end of the Franco regime in 1975, Table 12.3 Number of organizations mapped Country/region

City

Number of organizations per 1,000 inhabitants

Spain Basque C. Basque C. Catalonia Madrid

Bilbao: Deusto district Bilbao: Errekalde district Sabadell Alcalá de Henares

Germany Western part Eastern part

Mannheim Chemnitz

15.6 5.4

Switzerland Swiss German French-speaking

Bern Lausanne

9.7 7.4

6.7 5.1 6.1 2.4


255

compared to only about half as many in the case of Switzerland. The reconstruction of the associational system was even more extensive in Alcalá than in the two peripheral cities. Virtually all the associations in Alcalá have been founded after the regime change, compared to roughly two-thirds in Catalonia and almost 90 per cent in the Basque country. This extreme age structure of the associations in Alcalá confirms the impact of its fast recent growth. Distinguishing between three periods (before, during and after the dictatorship) serves to clarify the case of Alcalá. In this case, not even 2 per cent of the associations surveyed were created during the dictatorship period, compared to 7 per cent in the district of Deusto, 10 per cent in the district of Errekalde in Bilbao, and 23 per cent in Sabadell. When the data are looked at in detail, it becomes apparent that one of the reasons for this considerable difference is the much more extended creation of religious, cultural and sports associations during this period in Sabadell. One might argue that these associations were created during the dictatorship in Alcalá and Bilbao, too, but that they simply did not survive. Given the type of associations involved, this is, however, rather unlikely. It seems more likely that associational life has been generally very poor in Alcalá during the dictatorship period, for reasons not necessarily related to the dictatorship itself but to other aspects of social life in Alcalá. In the case of Germany, we observe a similar phenomenon: the regime change had a profound effect on the associational system in the East, while in the West the corresponding system has been roughly as stable as in Switzerland: two-thirds of today’s associations in the East have been created after the regime change, compared to less than one third in the West. As far as Switzerland is concerned, it is interesting to note that the share of recent associations in the French-speaking periphery (29.3 per cent) is significantly greater than in the German-speaking centre (14.9 per cent), which suggests Table 12.4 Number of associations by age: percentages founded after decisive historical juncture a) Spain: the end of the Franco regime After 1975

Spain Switzerland

Centre

95.0 33.8

Periphery Catalonia

Basque

68.7 47.4

89.9

Total

Phi

Sign

78.3 39.5

0.29 0.14

0.000 0.000

b) Germany: the end of the communist regime After 1989

Centre

Periphery

Total

Phi

Sign

Germany Switzerland

29.4 14.9

63.3 29.3

39.5 20.9

0.32 0.18

0.000 0.000

256 Kriesi et al. that the French-speaking part is catching up with the German-speaking part and that in the not too distant future the traditional differences between the two regions might disappear. Next, we consider the average number of members, activists and volunteers per association. As is shown by Table 12.5, there are significant differences between the three countries in all three respects: the participation in Swiss associations is generally the highest and the one in German associations generally the lowest, with Spanish associations taking an intermediary position. With the exception of the number of members, the regional differences within countries are, however, negligible. This result confirms the expectations with respect to the impact of the regime break in Spain: it appears that this break imposed a reconstruction of the associational system in all parts of the country. By contrast, the absence of regional differences runs counter to our expectations for Germany and Switzerland. In the German case, the associations in the East have, on average, fewer members than those in the West, but they can count on as many activists as the associations in the West and they have, on average, even more volunteers than the associations in the West. Thus, the main difference in the associational development between the Eastern and Western part of

Table 12.5 Level of activity by region (averages) a) Members Country

Centre

Periphery

Total

Country

Region

Country/region

Spain Germany Switzerland All

216 143 206 169

180 99 190 154

188 130 200 162

F 91.7 p 0.000

F 13.8 p 0.000

n.s.

b) Active members Country

Centre

Periphery

Total

Country

Region

Country/region


70 62 111 80

81 58 106 81

79 61 109 80

F 39.7 p 0.000

n.s.

n.s.

Country

Centre

Periphery

Total

Country

Region

Country/region


15 17 26 20

17 21 24 21

17 18 25 20

F 3.7 p 0.03

n.s.

n.s.

c) Volunteers


257

Germany seems to lie in the raw number of associations and in the overall membership size, to the extent that associations have been reconstructed in the East, they seem to involve (almost) as much participation as associations in the West. In the case of Switzerland, the differences in participation between the two regions are negligible in all three respects. As in the German case, the main difference in the associational development between the two language regions seems to reside in the raw number of associations6. Next, we add the associations’ age to the comparison. Younger associations generally have less members, active members and volunteers than more established associations. This has been shown before (see Chapter 10), and is here confirmed for Germany and Switzerland (see Table 12.6). In both Swiss regions, the younger organizations have a significantly lower level of activity with respect to all three criteria. Contrary to expectations, however, no regional differences exist in this respect. In Spain, the older associations generally have a higher level of activity, too, but the corresponding relations do not turn out to be statistically significant (except for active memberships), due to the fact that there are only a limited number of older associations in the different regions, and especially in Alcalá. The fact that we do not find any regional differences in Spain either, once again confirms the idea that the regime break has had much the same effect in both types of regions. In Germany, the level of activity is generally also lower among the younger associations. However, this difference is less pronounced in the East than it is in the West: the associations in Chemnitz which were founded after the regime break have almost as many members as those that were founded before the change and the number of activists among the younger associations in the East is also relatively high. This suggests a catching-up effect in the East. Moreover, as far as volunteers are concerned, we now see that the average number of volunteers is particularly high for the older associations in the East. This result can only be squared with the received notion of a lack of volunteering tradition in the East, if we take into consideration that relatively few associations of the former GDR have survived and that those who did survive are in no way representative for the former associational universe. This result could also be indicative of a particular effort of surviving associations to adapt to the new context. The catching-up effect in the East of Germany can be specified by looking at the different sector-specific developments. Table 12.7 presents the corresponding figures with regard to membership: among the associations that have survived the regime break in the East, only sports associations can count on as many members as their Western counterparts. By contrast, among the younger associations that have been founded after the regime break, all types of Eastern associations except for those active in the family, cultural, group-specific welfare and religious sectors can count on more members than the corresponding associations in the West. The

258 Kriesi et al. Table 12.6 Level of activity by region and age (averages) a) Members

Spain Before After 1975 All Germany Before After 1989 All Switzerland Before After 1975 All

Centre

Periphery

Total

Age

Region

Age/region

200 217 216

253 155 180

250 171 188

n.s.

n.s.

n.s.

172 79 147

122 97 106

163 88 135

F 33.9 p 0.000

n.s.

F 9.9 p 0.002

226 166 206

227 159 195

227 163 201

F 30.7 p 0.000

n.s.

n.s.

Centre

Periphery

Total

Age

Region

Age/region

150 65 70

140 62 82

141 63 79

F 8.8 p 0.003

n.s.

n.s.

77 36 66

81 51 62

78 44 64

F 24.7 p 0.000

n.s.

n.s.

122 84 109

141 69 107

129 77 108

F 30.8 p 0.000

n.s.

n.s.

Centre

Periphery

Total

Age

Region

Age/region

22 16 16

26 15 18

26 15 17

n.s.

n.s.

n.s.

22 8 18

39 14 23

24 11 19

F 27.0 p 0.000

F 9.3 n.s. p 0.002

33 16 27

25 20 23

30 18 25

F 5.7 p 0.02

b) Active members

Spain Before After 1975 All Germany Before After 1989 All Switzerland Before After 1975 All c) Volunteers

Spain Before After 1975 All Germany Before After 1989 All Switzerland Before After 1975 All


259

Table 12.7 Germany: average number of members by region, age and sector type Age/region Sectorial typology

■

Before break

■

After break (1975/1989)

Centre

Periphery

Economic interest Sports Culture Community concerns Group-specific welfare Politics Religion General welfare Family ‘New’ politics Other concerns

249 248 194 170 163 162 146 137 107 39 138

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 9 10 11 8

Total

172

Correlations

Before break Centre

Before break Periphery

After break Centre

Before break periphery After break centre After break periphery

0.33 0.27 0.69a

0.04 0.53

0.20

247 56 40 48 – 44 104 23 57 74

0 1 5 8 6 0 7 2 9 4 3

104

Centre 166 111 75 81 81 25 107 46 73 0 62 77

Periphery 1 2 5 4 4 9 3 8 6 0 7

309 163 79 227 72 154 14 66 55 75 91

1 3 6 2 8 4 11 9 10 7 5

103

Note a p 0.05, all other coefficients are not significant

most important deviation from the general pattern concerns religious associations, where the newly founded associations in the East turn out to be particularly weak. The ‘normalization’ of the East German associational world is also documented by the fact that the rank order of sectorial types in East Germany after the break most closely resembles the West German rank ordering before the break (rho 0.69*), while it is quite different from the corresponding Eastern rank order of surviving associations from before the break (rho 0.27). Thus, no economic interest groups and no associations in politics seem to have survived in the East. Taken together, these results confirm the impact of the regime break in Germany. For Spain, they suggest that the effect of the regime break has been more important than possible regional differences due to the nationalist mobilization in the peripheries. With respect to Switzerland, they only provide weak confirmation of the suggested impact of institutional differences. We shall now look more briefly at a number of additional aspects of the associational systems in the different cities – aspects which have all been introduced in the previous chapters.

260 Kriesi et al. Profile of activities In Spain and in Germany, the particular types of regions involved suggest that the profile of activities displays some regional variation. Given the strong separatist movements in the two peripheral regions in Spain, we expect to find many more associations with mobilizing activities in the Spanish peripheries than in the centre. While these movements have been heavily repressed by the Franco regime, they were able to mobilize after its fall, i.e. we expect to find an increase in the number of associations with mobilizing activities after the regime break in Spain. As is shown by Tables 12.8, 12.9 and 12.10, this is, indeed, what we find: overall, the share of associations mainly active in the field of mobilization is more than three times as high in the Spanish periphery than in the centre of the country (3.4 per cent vs. 11.1 per cent). Moreover, the difference is even more pronounced after the regime break (3.0 per cent vs. 14.6 per cent). In this respect, there are no differences between the two peripheries. By contrast, contrary to expectations, there is no indication for a more important part of associations sustaining and creating identities – associations in the areas of education, culture/music or ethnic struggle – in the two regions of Catalonia and the Basque country (see Table 12.9 and more detailed analyses not shown here). In Germany, the situation is somewhat different. Here, we also find more associations with politically oriented activities (mobilization and representation) in the Eastern periphery. However, the regime break did not increase mobilization here. On the contrary, it led to a decrease in the share of associations in the field of mobilization (from 17.2 per cent to 6.0 per cent), while it increased the corresponding share in representation (from 7.8 per cent to 15.2 per cent). It seems that, contrary to Spain, the Table 12.8 Most important activity by country and region (%) Most important activity

Spain Centre

1 2 3 4 5 6

Representation Mobilization Service Activation Maintenance Other/multiple

Total N Cramer’s V, significant

Periphery

10.1 3.4 22.5 52.8 1.1 10.1

7.6 11.1 24.5 41.9 2.5 12.4

100.0 (89) 0.13n.s.

100.0 (396)

Notes n.s. not significant for p 0.05. *p 0.05; **p 0.01; ***p 0.001.

■

Germany Centre 12.3 5.2 29.6 26.9 7.0 19.0

Periphery 16.4 9.1 20.3 32.1 3.7 18.4

100.0 100.0 (1411) (517) 0.14***

■

Switzerland Centre 13.2 5.2 34.3 30.2 3.9 13.2

Periphery 2.9 9.9 36.8 30.1 5.9 14.3

100.0 100.0 (440) (272) 0.19***


261

Table 12.9 Sector type by country and region (%) Sector type

Spain Centre

Family Sports Culture Community concerns Politics ‘New’ politics General welfare Group-specific welfare Economic interest Religion Other concerns

4.8 15.4 18.3 1.0 1.0 0.0 1.0 5.8 0.0 2.9 50.0

Periphery 2.7 13.6 19.7 0.7 2.2 1.7 3.2 2.2 7.3 5.8 40.9

Total 100.0 100.0 N (104) (411) Cramer’s V, significant 0.20*

■

Germany Centre 8.2 15.5 11.6 4.1 2.6 0.7 4.9 8.4 3.4 9.3 31.1

Periphery 10.0 20.8 9.4 1.3 0.4 1.0 3.1 5.0 1.9 14.8 32.2

100.0 100.0 (1,214) (519) 0.17***

■

Switzerland Centre 3.9 21.7 8.8 5.6 3.4 2.8 3.2 9.7 1.5 6.7 32.8

Periphery 10.5 13.8 7.7 2.5 2.8 4.9 2.2 9.8 2.8 5.2 37.8

100.0 100.0 (466) (325) 0.20***

Notes *p 0.05. ***p 0.001.

regime change has led to a stronger institutionalization of political associations in Eastern Germany. It should also be noted that, contrary to expectations, the share of religious associations is higher in Chemnitz than it is in Mannheim. Religious associations in Chemnitz are weak, as we have seen, but they are relatively numerous compared to Mannheim. In Switzerland, the more recent associations are neither more nor less politically oriented than the older ones. Both in the centre and in the periphery, the more recent associations are more likely to be service-orientated and less likely to be in the field of activation. It is the expansion of the welfare state which has led to a major reshuffling of the associations with respect to the profile of their activities in Switzerland. As far as associations with a political orientation are concerned, mobilization has more weight in Lausanne than in Berne, whereas representation is more important in Berne than in Lausanne.

Resources Analysing the regional differences with respect to the resources in terms of staff and budget, we, at first, hardly find any differences worth mentioning in all three countries. However, once we control for the age of the associations, some very interesting differences become apparent for the case of Germany, although not for the other two countries (Table 12.11). In the German case, the two-way interaction between age and region turns

262 Kriesi et al. Table 12.10 Most important activity by country, region and age (%) Activity

Centre Before break

After Total break (1975/89)

Spain (1975) Representation Mobilization Service Activation Maintenance Other/multiple All N Cramer’s V, significant

9.8 2.4 22.0 56.1 1.2 (50) 8.5 100.0 100.0 (4) (82) 0.41**

Germany (1989) Representation Mobilization Service Activation Maintenance Other/multiple All N Cramer’s V, significant

11.6 5.4 29.0 31.3 4.4 18.4 100.0 (882) 0.11*

10.5 5.0 29.0 24.9 9.9 20.7 100.0 (378)

11.0 5.2 29.0 27.9 7.3 19.6 100.0 (1260)

Switzerland (1975) Representation Mobilization Service Activation Maintenance Other/multiple All N Cramer’s V, significant

12.6 4.6 30.7 35.6 2.3 14.2 100.0 (298) 0.19*

13.0 7.2 42.8 21.7 5.1 10.1 100.0 (157)

12.8 5.5 34.8 30.8 3.3 12.8 100.0 (455)

(25) (25)

9.3 3.5 22.1 53.5 1.2 10.5 100.0 (86)

■

Periphery Before break

After break (1975/89)

Total

6.1 3.0 31.3 44.4 2.0 13.1 100.0 (99) 0.18*

7.5 14.6 21.7 41.3 2.8 12.1 100.0 (281)

7.1 11.6 24.2 42.1 2.6 12.4 100.0 (380)

7.8 15.2 17.2 6.0 15.5 23.0 45.7 30.5 0.9 4.9 12.9 20.4 100.0 100.0 (156) (308) 0.24***

13.4 8.8 21.1 34.3 3.9 18.5 100.0 (464)

3.2 10.4 32.0 40.8 4.0 9.6 100.0 (126) 0.24*

3.3 8.6 38.4 31.4 5.3 13.1 100.0 (247)

3.3 6.7 45.0 21.7 6.7 16.7 100.0 (121)

Notes *p 0.05. **p 0.01. ***p 0.001.

out to be highly significant for both staff and budgetary resources. This indicates that, in the West, older associations are much more resourceful than newer ones, while in the East, those associations that have been founded after the regime break are much more resourceful than the older ones. Here we find the traces of the resources that have been transferred from the West to the East. The reconstruction of the associational system in the East has become possible, as we have pointed out above,


263

Table 12.11 Germany: resources by region and age (averages per region) Age

Staff Centre

Before break After break 1989 Total N F-age by region

4.9 1.7 3.9 1,399 16.7***

Periphery 3.1 9.3 7.0 567 19.7***

Total

■

Budget Centre

Periphery

Total

4.6 5.2

178 38

18 295

148 161

6.8 1,966

137 1,330

190 572

153 1,902

Note ***p 0.001.

thanks to an enormous resource transfer to the East. As we can see now, the newly founded associations, but not those that had already existed under the old regime, benefited from this transfer. The older associations in the East turn out to be particularly poor in terms of financial resources – even poorer than the Spanish associations which are generally characterized by a lack of such resources (see Chapter 6). Institutionalization The analysis of the degree of institutionalization of the associations in the different regions confirms the previous findings for the German case. While there are no differences in this respect between the regions, nor between the associations created before and after the regime change in Spain, both in Switzerland and in Germany, we find significant regional differences: as we would have expected, in these countries the older associations are generally more institutionalized. What characterizes the German case in particular, however, is again a significant interaction between age and region. This interaction accounts for the fact that the new associations in the East, which have been founded after the regime change, are just as institutionalized as those which have been founded before this change. In the East, thanks most likely to external support, the new associations have been able to institutionalize relatively rapidly and to catch up with the rest of the German associational world. Contacts As far as contacts are concerned, we can distinguish between contacts to other groups and contacts to local authorities (public officials, city councillors and mayors). We find little differences with regard to contacts to other groups – except for the fact that associations in the Basque country are much less willing to answer this question than associations in the other

264 Kriesi et al. Table 12.12 Institutionalization by region and age (average scale values) Age

Centre

Periphery

4.5 5.9 5.9 120

5.4 5.2 5.3 448

5.3 5.4 5.4 568

Germany Before break 3.9 3.1 After break 1975/89 3.2 3.0 Total 3.7 3.0 N 1,427 1,607 F age 18.9***; region 25.5***; age*; region 10.8***

3.8 3.1 3.5 2,034

Switzerland Before break 5.3 5.5 After break 1975/89 4.5 5.0 Total 5.0 5.3 N 603 426 F age 40.0***; region 12.2***; age*; region 1.4n.s.

5.4 4.8 5.1 1,029

Spain Before break After break 1975/89 Total N F n.s.

Total

Notes n.s. not significant for p 0.05. *p 0.05. **p 0.01. ***p 0.001.

regions (Table 12.13). We believe that this result reflects the still rather strong separatist tensions in the Basque country which prevent many associations from openly answering this question. With respect to the contacts with local authorities, we present the mean values of an indicator that summarizes the intensity of the associations’ contacts with the three types of local authorities mentioned, distinguishing by region and age (Table 12.14). While there are no significant differences for the Swiss cities, the German results closely resemble those for institutionalization (Table 12.12). Just as with institutionalization, we find strong effects for age, region, and for the interaction between age and region. In other words: while associations in the West generally have more contact with local authorities than associations in the East, and while older associations have more such contacts than younger ones in the West, in East Germany, the younger associations that have been created only after the regime break are much more likely to have such contacts than the associations that date from before the break. In the Spanish case, results are somewhat similar to those obtained for contacts with other organizations (Table 12.13), although non-response is not a problem in this occasion. The differential patterns of connectedness across regions are, thus, similar when we con-


265

Table 12.13 Contact with other organizations by region (%) Center

Periphery

Basque C

All

Spain Missing No Yes Total N

3.2 23.4 73.4 100.0 (124)

4.4 24.4 71.1 100.0 (360)

31.9 23.0 45.1 100.0 (113)

9.4 24.0 66.7 100.0 (597)

Germany Missing No Yes Total N

1.8 45.0 53.2 100.0 (1,618)

1.3 38.9 59.8 100.0 (687)

1.6 43.2 55.2 100.0 (2,305)

37.2 62.8 100.0 (634)

31.1 68.9 100.0 (437)

34.7 65.3 100.0 (1,071)

Switzerland No Yes Total N

Table 12.14 Contact with local authorities (public officials, councillors and mayors) by region and age (averages) Centre

Periphery

Spain Before break 3.0 2.7 After break 1975/89 3.4 2.5 Total 3.4 2.6 N 117 327 F age n.s.; region 3.1*; age*; region n.s. Germany Before break 2.1 1.0 After break 1975/89 1.6 2.1 Total 1.9 1.7 N 1,229 473 F age 8.3***; region 9.5***; age*; region 58.9*** Switzerland Before break After break 1975/89 Total N F n.s.

1.8 2.2 1.9 565

Notes n.s. not significant for p 0.05. *p 0.05. **p 0.01. ***p 0.001.

2.4 2.1 2.3 321

Basque C 2.0 2.0 2.0 107

All 2.7 2.6 2.6 551

1.9 1.8 1.8 1,702

2.0 2.2 2.0 886

266 Kriesi et al. sider organizational contacts and contacts with local authorities: associations in the centre generally have more contacts than those of both peripheries, and among the latter the Basque Country stands out for the lowest frequency with which associations claim to have contacts with local authorities. As in previous analyses, we find no significant period effects.

Conclusion We conclude that we should be wary of generalizations about the associational life in ‘peripheral’ as compared to ‘core’ regions. The regional differences are country-specific and depend on the specific characteristics of the ‘peripheral’ regions. Although all three countries compared are federalist (or quasi-federalist) polities, they differ with respect to their more recent political experience. This experience has had a decisive impact on the associational development in the regions concerned. In Spain, all regions have been similarly affected by the regime change and in all regions, new associational systems have been constructed. However, we did find a few traces of the nationalist particularities in the two peripheral regions, too: the associations of the peripheral regions are more active in the field of mobilization, as we would have expected given the strong presence of separatist movements, and they are particularly weary of providing information about ties to other organizations. Contrary to expectations, however, the cultural associations are not more numerous in the peripheries than in the centre of Spain. In Germany, the regime change in the East has been the decisive factor behind regional differences: it has led to the rapid reconstruction of the associational system in the East. We have observed a catching-up effect in several guises: the profile of activities is more politicized in the East than in the West, but compared to Spain, it is at the same time more institutionalized (the accent lies on representation rather than on mobilization); in formal terms, too, the new associations in the East are just as institutionalized as the older ones; they have much more resources and they have significantly more contacts to the local authorities than their surviving predecessors. In Switzerland, finally, the regional differences continue to exist with regard to the number of associations, but they have been rather weak with regard to the level of activities and virtually non-existent with regard to the other aspects discussed here. As expected, the Swiss German-speaking city of Berne is characterized by a somewhat more intense associational life than the French-speaking city of Lausanne. To the extent that they exist, these regional differences in the development of associational life may be attributed to the difference in the character of the democratic context, but we do not know to what extent this context can, in turn, be explained by more encompassing cultural characteristics.


267

Notes 1 The mapping of associations and the subsequent survey study in Bilbao followed a somewhat different methodological approach. Given the greater size of Bilbao, both in geographical and population terms, two districts were selected as a sample of the whole city for the mapping process rather than trying to map all associations in Bilbao. The two districts, Deusto and Errekalde, were selected according to their socioeconomic structure, in order to have a more balanced composition of associations. Thus, Errekalde is a traditional working-class neighbourhood while Deusto is a more mixed district which is predominantly middleclass. 2 Unlike Alcalá and Sabadell, Bilbao is not a city of recent immigration, since almost half of its population was born in Bilbao and 20 per cent more was born in the Basque Country. 3 Sabadell is the fourth biggest city in Catalonia, while Bilbao is the biggest in the Basque Country. 4 These and the following figures are all for the year 2000. 5 As far as ‘social capital’ in terms of interpersonal networks of face-to-face relations is concerned, the two regions differ, indeed, in the expected direction (Freitag 2000): the individuals in the French-speaking cantons have, on average, significantly less contacts of this type than the individuals in the German speaking cantons. 6 Note, however, that these results are based on a truncated distribution of the data on members, activists and volunteers. In order to obtain comparable results between countries, the Swiss and Spanish data have been ‘categorized’ in the same way as the data for the other countries (see Chapter 3). This means, for example, that those 16 per cent Swiss associations that have more than 500 members had to be recoded to 500 members. If we use the precise Swiss data, the differences in participation levels of the two regions go more into the expected direction and turn out to be significant for the number of members.

Conclusion

13 The prospects of civil society and democratic governance William A. Maloney and Sigrid Roßteutscher

Introduction This concluding chapter has several aims. First, it provides a brief summary of the major findings from the preceding chapters. Second, it identifies similarities and differences in the empirical results. Third, the chapter assesses the relationship between the organizational structure of contemporary civil society and patterns of participation. Which organizational features affect participation? Fourth, it necessarily includes a discussion of the democratic implications of the empirical results. Finally, the chapter concludes with an assessment of the project’s relevance in the larger context of social capital and civil society research.

Associational density and diversity The empirical analysis began in earnest in Chapter 3 and the first issue addressed was organizational density. The data showed that density varied extensively between countries. It was of little surprise that the Danish city of Aalborg topped the list and the Spanish city (Sabadell) was at the other extreme and the remaining cities near the mean. The high associational density in Mannheim was particularly surprising. It is clear that density measures tell only part of the story (diversity is arguably more crucial, see below). Nevertheless, associational density can have important democratic implications. It can make joining easier because citizens may find an association that is close to their home. It might lead to greater associational competition for members. This competition may in fact generate greater diversity as groups seek to occupy niche positions in the membership market. Finally, it may also, from a democratic perspective, increase the incentives for groups to be more responsive. The greater the competition the higher the exit potential (because there are viable alternatives) and the increased likelihood that organizations will be open to more member involvement. As Maloney and Roßteutscher note in Chapter 3, if these factors are important ‘then the somewhat simple and seemingly superficial indicator of

272 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher sector size would in effect be an indicator of civil society’s quality as well’. Chapter 3 also drew the distinction between quantity (i.e. numbers of members, activists, and volunteers, in general) and efficiency (i.e. a group’s capacity to mobilize activists and volunteers from the membership pool) participation measures. The aim was to assess if certain associational-types were more (or less) adept at generating large memberships, or mobilizing larger proportions of activists and volunteers. In addition to this, were there country-specific or sectorial differences? The data demonstrated that associations in Bern had the highest membership levels and the biggest pool of active members. In terms of members Aalborg and Sabadell were not too far behind, with Aberdeen, Enschede and Mannheim bringing up the rear. However, it is clear that associations in Aberdeen are particularly efficient participatory activators. The mobilization capacity of organizations in Bern, Mannheim and Sabadell were slightly more limited, while Aalborg and Enschede ranked between the heights of Aberdeen and the (relative) lows of the other cities. However, as Maloney and Roßteutscher highlight, ‘the active passive ratios and the activation of all members are relatively high in most cities’. The most intriguing result of Chapter 3 is the relative symmetry of civil society’s penetration of the local citizenry – considering the major differences relating to sector density and group internal participation patterns – in terms of activism and volunteering. Between 80 per cent and 130 per cent of the inhabitants of the six cities are active club members. In Mannheim, Aalborg and Bern the mobilization rate is 100 per cent, Aberdeen, Enschede and Sabadell the figure is lower. In the case of volunteering, however, the pattern is more even across cities (excluding Sabadell) – approximately 30 per cent of association carry out volunteer work. Placing the Sabadell case to one side, it is clear that several paths lead to the production of social capital. Mannheim has taken the high organizational density/low activation efficiency route, while Aberdeen has followed the opposite road of lower organizational density/greater activation efficiency. Accordingly, Maloney and Roßteutscher warn that both indicators should be handled with caution if one is seeking to assess civic or democratic health. If the density measure were being examined then the German associational universe would be valorized. If one’s attention turns to inner-organizational mobilization capacities Aberdeen’s superior aptitude for transforming the passive to active would see it collect all the garlands. Chapter 3 demonstrated that density and mobilizing capacities measures are important dimensions. In order to develop a clearer picture of civic vibrancy and the democratic characteristics of associational universes diversity must also be addressed. For example, if an associational universe is relatively dense (i.e. crowded by many associations) it could still be dominated by a few concerns and other interests may be un- or under-

The prospects of civil societ and democracy 273 represented. In this case even a (dense) civil society could be seen as democratically deficient. This issue is addressed in Chapter 4. Most theories of civil society envisage it as a triangular space organized along leisure, market and political concerns. Moreover, contemporary theorizing, in particular deliberative orientated perspectives, stress the pivotality of civil society’s political arm. However, as Chapter 4 argues, if civil society is complete only if there are numerous and diverse political organizations, then most of European civil societies are likely to be deficient. Leisure concerns dwarf other areas, and the politics sector is ranked behind market concerns. Indeed, most associations were active in many areas with the most popular activities being in the areas of leisure and a niche of the market sector: welfare. The least popular concerns were in the politics sector, with ‘new politics’ being particularly weakly represented. The politics sector (old, new and city politics) is represented by a tiny minority of roughly 3 per cent to 13 per cent of all associations. The sectorial analysis of Chapter 4 also demonstrated that the substance of organizational concerns mattered: sector had a significant impact on participatory outputs. Moreover, sectors demonstrate broadly similar involvement patterns across all cities: e.g. everywhere the leisure sector contained a large pool of members, and was particularly efficient at turning passive members active. While the politics sector has the lowest number of associations (especially in Aberdeen and Sabadell), and the fewest members, activists and volunteers. (Bern proved to be an outlier having the most politicized civil society. This is largely explicable by Bern’s status as a national capital.) In summary, the data shows that the dominant civil society concern is leisure and that the political component is less well developed. (Although as Lelieveldt and Caiani (Chapter 9) demonstrate political activity is not exclusively restricted to associations with politics as their main concern.) The political sector thrives least well where civil society is not particularly dense (e.g. Sabadell and Aberdeen); in more crowded environments (e.g. Aalborg, Mannheim, or Enschede) it is more vibrant. The sectorial taxonomy illustrated that organizational sector was a crucial participatory variable: on a number of indicators examined – e.g. membership levels, the culture of volunteering, organizational efficiency in activating passive members – sector mattered!

Involvement patterns: are members doing it for themselves? Associational universes are composed of organizations ranging from those run by enthusiastic amateurs on shoe-string budgets to highly professional associations with annual turnovers akin to small- and medium-sized companies. Several chapters (in particular, Chapters 5 and 7) draw the important distinction between organizational tasks (policy- and client-orientated)

274 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher that are delegated to professional staff (‘with delegation’) and those that are carried out internally (‘without delegation’). Thus to what extent is the associational universe dominated by members doing it for themselves, or are activities contracted out to professionals? In Chapter 5, Lelieveldt, Astudillo and Stevenson found that groups for whom service delivery was the most important activity relied more heavily on paid staff and the ratio of volunteers to employees was below the average, whereas associations that were intensely involved in activating citizens were more heavily reliant on volunteers and were relatively efficient mobilizers of passive members. In Chapter 7, Kriesi found that most associations (c. 60 per cent) have an annual budget below 10,000 euro and 3 per cent over one million euro, and almost three-quarters of associations do not have any staff at all, 1 per cent have more than 100 employees. The concentration of staff in a handful of associations is similar to that of the financial resources: roughly 60 per cent of all the staff is in the hands of less than 1 per cent of the associations; and almost 80 per cent of the staff members work for the associations in the top two most resourceful categories! The elite at the top end of the scale control most of the financial resources in the local associational systems. By contrast, membership is actually concentrated in the hands of the associations that have no staff at all. In other words, the ideal–typical distinction between professional and membership associations comes most clearly with respect to staff resources. Kriesi argued that the highly unequal distribution of resources in the local associational world can be accounted for by five associational aspects: territorial scope, size, task domain, age, and, above all, their mode of financing (external sources were shown to be particularly important). Kriesi’s findings force an assessment of the important argument regarding the notion that professionalism drives out volunteering. Is it the case that when professionals inhabit the associational space that they eschew amateur activism and volunteering? Kriesi concludes that membership associations were not more conducive to volunteering than professional associations and that amateur and traditional should not necessarily be valorized in the world of local associations. The membership associations with limited resources were no more likely to promote volunteering and activism than the professional associations with large outside funding. Professionalism does not drive out citizen involvement – in some cases it is possible to see it as increasing it (e.g. when organizations employee professional mobilizes and recruiters). Moreover, the results provide some support for the notion that government support may promote volunteering: this is particularly the case in Aalborg and in Aberdeen. There is a slight tendency for associations with more money to have more activists. What about the impact of the internal structure of groups on citizen involvement. Are horizontally organized associations always more efficient mobilizes than vertically structured groups? Scholars, such as Putnam

The prospects of civil societ and democracy 275 (1993), have argued that this is indeed the case. In Chapter 5, Torpe and Ferrer-Fons argue that generally associations with an informal structure appear to be the most efficient activators of members. Torpe and FerrerFons key finding is that the structure of associations – i.e. horizontal or vertical – is of little relevance for participation. Horizontally structured associations should not be singularly praised for turning passive membership active and generating volunteering, and their vertical counterparts be demonized for depressing activity and volunteering. In fact, Torpe and Ferrer-Fons label this misconception as a myth. Size explains more than structure (see below). Torpe and Ferrer-Fons (Chapter 6) found that in Aberdeen, Bern, Mannheim and Sabadell over 60 per cent of associations were vertically structured, either as part of a regional or national umbrella or being an umbrella group. Most associations have chairs, secretaries, treasurers, a written constitution and conform to the classic secondary association model. In terms of formal representative rule all the associational universes with the clear exception of Aberdeen score well. Aberdeen’s lowly position is explained by the relative lack of Boards of Directors and General Assemblies. The UK also has the lowest (legal and) registration requirements – groups can function effectively and efficiently in the UK in ways that would not be countenance in continental Europe. The incentives that push organizations towards horizontal structures are great at the local level and undermine any shift from the classical secondary association model towards more tertiary forms. However, there are also cultural factors that drive associations to democratically informed structures: e.g. 70 per cent of the Dutch groups in the sample have a General Assembly which is not a legal requirement; 96 per cent of the Danish groups have a written constitution, but only 60 per cent receive public grants; and in Aberdeen 67 per cent report having an Executive Committee and/or committees for specific tasks and almost 80 per cent have a written constitution, yet there is no continental European-style registration system operating in the UK. The data also supports the common-sense notion that small groups are more efficient mobilizes (of volunteers and activists) than their larger counterparts. In short, Topre and Ferrer-Fons conclude that internal structure has a small impact on participation, but that size is a more important factor: ‘Smallness seems to be the most powerful determinant for participation’. This is hardly surprising. In small groups the sanctions for non-involvement may be more immediate and greater. In summary, the data shows that professionalism is not necessarily inimical to citizen involvement and that size is important. Small groups are more efficient mobilizes, largely because they have to be. If the group is large then mobilizing a relatively small proportion of the passive membership will be enough to maintain organizational viability. In a small group the proportion needs to be greater.


Political and social dimensions Political groups have an important social dimension and social groups have a political element. For example, an important component of political party membership has been the social activities available to members (solidary incentives), and many civic groups have mobilized in the face of some (political) disturbance to defend their interests. There is also the important (Olsonian) by-product dimension: group seeking public goods may be ‘forced’ to offer other incentives to stimulate participation. If the by-product theory is correct then policy-orientated groups should be involved in providing client/supporter activities, but not vice-versa. Lelieveldt, Astudillo and Stevenson find some support for this. For example, they found that the policy-orientated sectors (economic groups, community associations and the politics and new politics) also provided relatively high levels of services to their members. The data also shows that just under half of the groups that identified representation as their most important activity were also engaged in service activities, whereas c.30 per cent of groups that said that providing services to clients was their most important activity also engaged in representation. On the basis of the data in Lelieveldt, Astudillo and Stevenson (Chapter 5), for the majority of associations politics is a minority sport. Groups are too busy doing other – for them more important – activities. It is no surprise that political associations are clearly outnumbered in the associational universe and that civic groups contribute to democratic development by mobilizing and engaging citizens and providing opportunities to learn and apply democratically enhancing skills. However, Chapter 9 shows that a surprisingly high proportion of associations are engaged in political contacting (with local administrations) in spite of the fact that representation and mobilization are not the most important activity. Financial dependence and some of the externalities of the political world means that even apolitical actors can be drawn into the nitty-gritty of politics. However, there is strong support for the argument that the political orientation of many groups is the by-product of primarily non-political activities. In short, the data points to a differentiated pattern of involvement with most organizational types and forms making a meaningful contribution the functioning of democracy and to social integration. In Chapter 9, Lelieveldt and Caiani found a positive relationship between the social and political participation of associations – a signal of the importance of an associations’ social capital for political activity. Nonpolitical groups make political contacts for various reasons: (i) because some minor issue impacts on their activities – e.g. changes to a lease of local authority owned premises; (ii) to influence policy-making; (iii) because of some financial dependence – on average between 7 per cent and 17 per cent of the associational budget in the various cities comes

The prospects of civil societ and democracy 277 from (local) government (for 11 per cent government is the sole patron); (iv) membership size may also be important. Representatives of bigger associations may be more inclined, and may find it easier because of the legitimacy accorded from a large membership, to get in touch with local government. In addition to this, as membership size increases, the likelihood that members will press the association to become politically active – for personal or associational related reasons – increases; and (v) finally, increasing staff size increases the division of labour within an association and improves the possibilities for maintaining political contacts. Lelieveldt and Caiani found that in all cities there was a strikingly high level of contacting. A large proportion of associations in each locale maintain contacts with political actors – civil servants were cited most frequently, followed by the executive and city council, and finally local political parties. The level of contact varies between cities, but it is remarkable that the rank-orders are similar. Associations with representation and mobilization as their ‘most important’ activity display higher levels of political activity than other associations. However, on a city-by-city analysis the expected pattern emerges: policy-orientated associations score higher than client-orientated associations or those for which organizational maintenance is the most important activity. It is of little surprise that dependence on governmental funds turns out to have a positive impact on political contacts. The greater the proportion of the budget that comes from local government, the higher the contact level. Arguably, the most important result from Chapter 5 is that contact with other associations is a strong predictor – and in five of the six the strongest – for the local political contact score. With every extra associational contact that a group mentions its political contact score goes up on average by 0.3 (Bern, Enschede), 0.4 (Aalborg) or 0.5 (Sabadell, Aberdeen, Mannheim). Lelieveldt and Caiani’s analysis shows a remarkably high level of political contacts – even in sectors that one would regard as largely non-political. Being financially dependent upon local government and maintaining contacts with other associations are two important determinants of the level of political contacts. The finding that these factors emerge as significant demands further discussion. It is important to acknowledge the reciprocal nature of these contacts. Many groups are involved in policy implementation as ‘agents’ of local government. In this process associations and political actors sit around the same table and policy-makers and administrators will very often encourage inter-associational cooperation. In these constellations it is a bit artificial to treat contacts with other associations as the independent and political contacts as the dependent variable. Instead the causal arrow runs in both directions, and social contacts may be the result of political contacts as well. We should note that these associations are usually managed by full-time professionals, and if we connect this to the earlier observation that civil servants are the mostly

278 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher frequented governmental actors it becomes clear that an important part of the interactions between voluntary associations and local government takes place within professionalized networks. Such configurations may be unavoidable and functionally necessary when it comes to working out the often complicated tasks jointly undertaken by government and associations. However, the limited composition of these networks may trouble some. They may be seen as challenging the democratic legitimacy of decision-making and deliberation carried out in elected forums.

Internal and external dynamics Unsurprisingly, our study shows that policy-orientated and maintenance activities concern many fewer associations than client-orientated ones. Family, sports, culture and group-welfare sectors are the most clientorientated (and the most densely populated). Representation and mobilization are more heavily focused on economic groups, community associations and the politics and new politics sectors. Interestingly, organizational maintenance does not appear to be a major activity – 30 per cent of associations said that they were engaged in at least one maintenance activity, but only 5 per cent identified it as ‘most important’. Groups in these associational universes do not see external activities are secondary to organizational survival. The means and ends appear clearly delineated. However, it is important to note that the organizational maintenance and instrumental relationship is sometimes conflictual and sometimes harmonious. For example, in the allocation of resources there could be a debate about whether more investment in sophisticated recruiting practices and procedures should be made to attract a larger number of members or if all the available resources should be devoted to political campaigning. However, there are cases where both may be in harmony. The choice of campaigns or campaign tactics (high-profile media orientated activities) can be a way of raising the organizational profile primarily as a mean to attract members.

The public/private dimensions of associational life: fuzzy boundaries In an era of contracting out, reducing the role of the state and a growing acceptance of the limitation of markets, associations are increasingly perceived as appropriate alternative institutions for ‘getting things done’ (Warren 2001b). These factors have lead to a consensus across many parts of academia, the voluntary sector, the practitioner and the political worlds, that we should draw on the resources of the voluntary sector. The contemporary catch-word is of collaboration between the voluntary and state sectors. One could extend the argument further by arguing that

The prospects of civil societ and democracy 279 there has not simply been collaboration, but more a blurring of the public/private boundary leading to the interpenetration of the state and voluntary sectors. Many groups rely heavily on state support and in many cases, given the level of state funding, it could be a misnomer to label the effort as non-state and voluntary. The level of integration is such that Kendall and Knapp (1996: 2) maintain that in the UK, ‘The relationship between the state and key parts of the voluntary sector has always been essentially symbiotic and characterized by mutual dependence’. As the social capital model has developed the state is no longer perceived as ‘exogenous’. It is seen as having an important role to play in the creation (or destruction) of social capital. There are numerous examples of public authorities, political structures and institutions playing a crucial role in shaping the context of associational activity (and the creation of social capital) and helping to sustain and stimulate the growth of civic vibrancy (see Maloney et al. 2000; Skocpol 1999; Keen 1999). Many local authorities have developed and implemented a range of policies and programmes, and created institutions specifically to encourage greater citizen participation (see Chapter 2). An important instrument is patronage of groups and the contracting out of certain service functions. In Chapter 7, Kriesi argues that government funding via contracts may explain resource differentials in several areas. For example, in the service domain, there is a big difference between associations occupied with ‘services to others’ and all the other service associations. On average, associations providing services to others have more than twice as many financial resources as associations providing services to members, advisory activities and social integration. He concludes that approximately a quarter of organizations are wholly dependent on members, and roughly the same proportion rely solely on external sources. The rest of the associations depend on a mixture of internal and external sources. Associational life at the local level is – for better or worse – inevitably intertwined with governmental policies and politics.

Networks and contacts In Chapter 8, Zmerli and Newton show that on average over half of all the associations in the six cities have contacts with other groups: ranging from just over half in Mannheim to almost three-quarters in Sabadell. The figures suggest an extensive network of inter-organizational activities, but with the mean number of contacts at 1.2 it is a broad, but not dense network of groups. Mobilization groups are the best networked. Volunteers are important for networking, activists less so. The larger the number of volunteers the more likely a voluntary association is to be engaged in voluntary association networks (this applies everywhere except Sabadell). Networking is largely segmented – i.e. sports clubs relate contacting other sports clubs. The data show a high degree of segmented

280 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher inter-organizational networking. In Bern almost 80 per cent of group interaction is segmented. Since 62 per cent of groups in Bern are involved in inter-organizational networking of any kind in the first place, this means that fewer than 14 per cent of all groups in the city engage in crosscutting networks. In Bern, political organizations and ‘new’ political organizations outrank most of the other associations, both for the extent of their networking and for the extent of their cross-cutting networking. In Aalborg the political parties, though comparatively well networked, are mainly involved in segmented rather than cross-cutting interorganizational relations. Zmerli and Newton argue that the theory ‘rather exaggerates the importance of group networking’ because contacts are largely segmented. Thus voluntary organizations are not insinuated in a complex overlapping and interlocking network of association. This finding is not difficult to comprehend. Voluntary associations are not in the business of integrating and unifying society and building bridging social capital. Groups seek to pursue their own interests and they may well be self-sufficient enough to do this without the need to find partners, to link with other organizations, or get involved in external relations. They may also perceive certain groups to be competitors and see their self-interest as best served by flying solo, or to limit contacts to those areas where there is a clear benefit to the group. Networks can also be time-consuming and expensive to build and maintain, and many groups are small, and lack resources. Zmerli and Newton note that the two types of voluntary association – sports clubs and churches – that are best placed to bridge important social differences, tend to close themselves off and become exclusive rather than inclusive. However, it could be argued that any contact is good. While the contact is between groups within the same sectorial domain it does not necessarily follow that the contact is between groups that are identical on all or even several demographic indicators? The nature of the organizations engaged in contacting and networking activity needs to be examined. The organizational dataset is not the best placed to draw definite conclusions, thus the Zmerli/Newton conclusions are indicative.

Age, city size and federalism Chapter 10 shows that participation in groups is age dependent. The older an association, the more members, activists and volunteers it has at its disposal. This relationship holds for all our cities. However, an organization’s capacity to mobilize from inside is neither related to an organization’s age or certain generational features. In Aalborg, Enschede and Mannheim, young cohorts stand out. Compared to older generations they exhibit a greater capacity to turn passive members active. Youthfulness contributes to an unstable membership base and highly committed members.

The prospects of civil societ and democracy 281 By examining patterns of organizational fertility and survival Roßteutscher, Medina and Selle provide an interesting prognosis on the future prospects for civil societies. For example, low fertility rates coupled with average turnover (i.e. survival rates in older cohorts) characterize Aberdeen’s sector: decline is the most likely outcome – if fertility rates cannot be raised rather drastically. Bern shows a similar pattern concerning fertility, however older segments of its population survival rates are unmatched by all other cities: stagnation and lack of innovation its future. In contrast, Aalborg and Mannheim combine high fertility rates with average or above average survival rates in older cohorts: growth is the most likely scenario. Accordingly, fertility (i.e. the rates of ‘newborn’ associations per inhabitants) seems to be a crucial variable. If these are low, stagnation is the best that could be hoped for; decline is the more likely result. Moreover, the chapter distinguishes cities, in the context of ‘their’ democratic development. Mannheim and Sabadell endured non-democratic periods (but against the hypothesis also Bern) and showed clear signs of associative generation building, while the survival rates and turnover patterns of Aberdeen, Aalborg and Enschede reflect the more gradual uninterrupted trajectories of these countries. In Chapter 11, Baglioni, Denters, Morales and Vetter explored the relationship between city size and the local associational ecology: are there (democratically relevant) differences in local organizational ecologies between large and small cities? They hypothesized that there could be a decline of community effect: increasing city size might have a negative impact on citizens’ sense of community and their propensity to mobilize. They further argue that increasing city size may engender greater levels of free-riding because rational individuals in large social groups have a greater incentive to leave it to others to provide the collective benefits (Olson 1965). For these two reasons they argued that there might be a negative relationship between city size and activism and voluntarism. Baglioni, Denters, Morales and Vetter found a clear trend in all the cities: the more populous municipalities the higher absolute associational density. Across most regions community size and the diversity of the associational ecology are positively related. As size increases so does the diversity of associations (for both indicators of diversity). The general picture confirms previous results that larger communities have a more diverse associational life than smaller ones. They concluded that, ‘Medium-size cities may have the worst of both worlds. They lack both the mobilizing context of a big city and the accessibility of small towns. Organizational size (in terms of membership) is not related to city size. There is, thus, no conclusive evidence of a mobilization effect of city size.’ Baglioni, Denters, Morales and Vetter also noted that city size did not affect the organizational capacities of turning passive members active or to enhance individual volunteering in associations. Villages or small towns are not more efficient enhancers of civic engagement and do not

282 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher stimulate the developmental function of associations (Warren 2001a) more than larger contexts. With regard to the democratically relevant differences between local organizational ecologies in large and small cities four aspects appear to be important: the associational density and diversity in a locality, the social and political connectedness of the associations, and the intra-organizational degree of voluntarism and activism. In Chapter 12 (Kriesi, Morales and Walter-Rogg), the main hypothesis is that the federalist structure of Germany, Spain and Switzerland has left an important imprint on the development of the associational sectors in these countries, but federalism has exerted strong pressure to organize associations along the lines of the political system. The impact of critical historical junctures – such as the end of the Franco regime in Spain (1975) and the collapse of the communist system in the GDR (1989) – is clearly demonstrated. In Spain over two-thirds of the associations existing today were founded after the end of the Franco regime, compared to approximately half as many in the case of Switzerland. In Germany we observe a similar phenomenon: the regime change had a profound effect on the associational system in the East, while in the West the corresponding system has been roughly as stable as in Switzerland. Two-thirds of today’s associations in the East were created after 1989, compared to less than one-third in the West. These different evolutions have impacted on the resource structure of associational universes in the East and West. In the West older associations tend to have more resources than newer ones, while in the East associations founded post-1989 are much more resourceful than the older groups. Here we find some traces of the transfer of resources from West to East. Kriesi, Morales and Walter-Rogg argue that we should be wary of generalizations about the associational life in ‘peripheral’ as compared to ‘core’ regions. The regional differences are country-specific and depend on the specific characteristics of the ‘peripheral’ regions. Associations in peripheral regions are more active in the field of mobilization. Contrary to expectations, however, the cultural associations are not more numerous in the peripheries than in the centre of Spain. In Germany, the regime change in the East has been the decisive factor behind regional differences: it has led to the rapid reconstruction of the associational system in the East. A catching-up effect was observed. As expected, the Swiss German-speaking city of Berne is characterized by a more intense associational life than the French-speaking city of Lausanne. Kriesi, Morales and Walter-Rogg conclude: ‘To the extent that they exist, these regional differences in the development of associational life may be attributed to the difference in the character of the democratic context, but we do not know to what extent this context can, in turn, be explained by more encompassing cultural characteristics.’

The prospects of civil societ and democracy 283

The paradox of participation Much of the contemporary currency of associations within democratic theorizing is predicated on ideal-type notions of the small, member-based, horizontally organized, volunteer-run, independent association. Many of the authors (and chapters) in this volume have taken issue with this notion. Some have demonstrated that it is not consistent with the empirical evidence and others have gone so far as to label it a myth. The paradox of participation in groups is that it is simultaneously true and false: both myth and reality. The seemingly unproductive (and under-valued) large association run by professionals dependent on public subsidies and hierarchically structured turns out to be the champion of big numbers. In quantitative terms, many activists and volunteers in all the European associative universes emerge from the larger, more professional component. In this respect, the common-sense notion that small is beautiful is clearly a myth. However, the big players are least efficient in mobilizing activists and volunteers from the membership pool. Thus small is also beautiful. A simple indicative example should be instructive. If an association is small (combined with all the features of smallness), say with a fully active membership of 20 that carry out all the organizational work on a voluntary basis, its mobilization capacity is optimal – 100 per cent of its members are active. However, the number of activists and volunteers produced is very small (20). Alternatively, if we consider the large, professional, public dependent association with 20,000 members, 5 per cent of which are active, the mobilization capacity of such an organization is paltry in comparison to the former group. However, this 5 per cent generates 1,000 activists/volunteers – 50 times larger than the cozy, small and perfectly formed association. In this case 50 small places are the equivalent of one very large association. If one dreams like (so many social capitalists) of a halcyon world where everyone is civic or political engaged (developing civic and other democratically relevant characteristics), it is hard to believe that such an encompassing civil society could be reached without the big players. Moreover, all chapters conclude that largeness (or related aspects such as wealth and professionalism) produces large numbers of volunteers and activists, but evidence concerning the advantage of small size (and its related features) is slightly less convincing. In other words, big associations are better in producing big numbers than small associations are in producing higher inner-organizational mobilization. There is another clichéd notion in the current debate relating to big numbers. In the ideal civil society, there should be as many (and diverse a range of) associations as possible. The perfect civil society is a crowded place. Where associations are less numerous the discussions quickly turns to deficiency or decline (in cases where there is historically reliable data of previously higher numbers). As argued extensively in Chapter 3, to cherish size and neglect mobilization patterns gives an incomplete, if not

284 W.A. Maloney and S. Roßteutscher distorted, picture of civil society’s vibrancy. This is the second paradox of participation in groups. Thinking again of the ideal-type sector density can be an (but is not the only) indicator of a healthy civil society. In short, looking at the associative beast we are dealing with three independent (albeit interrelated) dimensions: (i) sector size; (ii) the generation of members, activists and volunteers (in quantity terms); and (iii) the inner-organizational mobilization capacity – i.e. how many members are turned active? All three dimensions are crucial, and none alone provides a complete picture of civil society’s democratic relevance.

Mapping unmapped terrain It is not an exaggeration to say that associations, groups or organizations, whatever term one prefers, are the prime focus of these fashionable – civil society and social capital – approaches. It is associations that are seen as fostering trust, teaching civic skills, representing interests, etc. In short, the contemporary debate sees associations as delivering all the crucial ingredients for a proper functioning society and democracy. The ‘associative turn’ in current theorizing (Roßteutscher 2005) has provoked numerous empirical investigations – an almost exponential growth in the number of dissertations and journal articles (since the mid-1990s). In short, it is fair to say that no other subject within political science has produced such an increasing outlet in research and publication (for figures, see Wall, Ferrazzi and Schryer 1998). In spite of this deluge very little is known about the nature, functions, and deficits and surpluses of the associative universe. Why? Most importantly, the current hype in associationalism has not left great imprints on research strategies. Empirical evidence is dominated by survey approaches that collect information on single individuals (as members, activists or volunteers). But – because of the research design – such projects fail to provide information about the associative frame in which these individuals are active (or not). A second common strategy – followed by Putnam (2000) and others – is the collection of massive macro data on organizational density. Irrespective of this gargantuan (and laudable) effort, it simply counts the quantitative aspects of civil society and neglects the crucial (possibly highly) diverse features of the associative world. (For example, Chapter 3 demonstrated the fallibility of any conclusion based upon sector size alone.) Accordingly, a major aim of this volume has been to map this previously unmapped terrain. All the researchers in this volume share the conviction that organizational features matter. Analyses of social capital or civil society also need to investigate issues such as associational size, sector, thematic concerns, sources of and financial situation, relations with the public sector, institutional design, connectedness to other associations, internal participation patterns, etc. This volume has demonstrated that

The prospects of civil societ and democracy 285 these organizational features matter and matter in a way that is not always predicted by theory (or common sense). If the volume’s sole contribution to debates in the areas of social capital or civil society has been to raise the curiosity levels about the nature and functioning of the civil society organizations, then it will have achieved a major aim. In other words, micro and macro perspectives need to be supplemented by meso perspective of organizational structures, thereby re-focusing social capital research on its prime object – the association. Of course, the associative perspective is not a substitute for a macro perspective or one that has individuals as its main research object. By situating the associative universes in its local and national contexts we opened the organizational approach to the (possible) importance of macro factors. The dimension we fully – and at that stage deliberately– neglected is the micro level of individuals. This is not because this dimension is less important or that too much research has been focused on the participant level. The contrary is true. The research team’s core aim was a comparative examination of how organizational features impact on individual attitudes, values and behaviour. To reach this aim we have not only surveyed thousands of organizations (the material presented in this volume) but also sent long questionnaires to thousands of individuals who are active or are doing volunteer work within these associations. An analysis of those two combined data sets will permit conclusions of how particular features of associations – their size, their financial dependence, their institutional setup – impact on individuals’ way of thinking and acting. This is the next unmapped terrain the research team intends to explore.

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Index

Aalborg: activities overview 85–93; ageing of associations 197–202; appearance of generations 204–15; density 40–3; distribution of resources 124–6; external resources 135–43; inclusiveness/exclusiveness 156–60; inter-organizational networking 160–2; internal structure of associations 100–9; involvement patterns 47–9; local context 126–8; multivariate analysis of resources 143–8; networking 164–5; organizational ecology changes 220–2; participatory outputs 43–6; participatory vehicles 69–75, 215–20; political contacts 181–8; political/policy factors 31–5; range/diversity of associative life 58–62; sectorial taxonomy of activity 62–8; sectorial types 68–75 Aberdeen: activities overview 85–93; ageing of associations 197–202; appearance of generations 204–15; density 41–3; distribution of resources 124–6; external resources 135–43; inclusiveness/exclusiveness 156–60; inter-organizational networking 160–2; internal structure of associations 100–9; involvement patterns 47–9; local context 126–8; multivariate analysis of resources 143–8; networking 164–5, 172–3; organizational ecology changes 220–2; participatory outputs 43–6; participatory vehicles 69–75, 215–20; political contacts 181–8; political/ policy factors 31–5; range/diversity of associative life 58–62; sectorial taxonomy of activity 62–8; sectorial types 68–75

accessibility, logic of 229–30, 237–9 activation activities 84, 85–93; and resources 128–35, 143–8 activism: and city size 239–41; conceptual considerations 227; and internal structure 109–14; and networking 164–7; theoretical considerations 230; vehicles for 43–6 activity: levels of 148–50, 254–9; and networking 163–4, 166; overview 85–93; and political contacts 183, 187, 189; profile 260–1; and resources 128–35; sectorial taxonomy 62–8; territorial scope 124–5; types of 82–5 advocacy associations 251 age: and internal structure 104–9; and resources 143; summary 280–2 ageing: changing organizational ecology 220–2; first empirical evidence 197–202; overview 196–7; as participatory vehicle 215–20 Aja, E. 250 Alcalá de Henares: levels of activity 254–9; overview 244–7 Alemann, U. 196 Alestalo, M. 33 Althütte 230–41 Anheier, H. 35, 119, 126 Arato, A. 55, 56 Armingeon, K. 33 associational development 26–30 associational ecologies: and city size 227–9; empirical results 234–41; overview 224–5; research design 230–4; and size 225–7 associational size and resources 135 associational survey tradition 20, 21–2

302 Index associations: as basic unit of analysis 19–20; choice of cities 20; civic engagement and effects 6–9; mapping 22–4; new forms 118–21; numbers 23, 24; previous studies 20–3; range and diversity 58–62 Astudillo, Javier 12, 81–94, 274, 276, 277–8 Babchuk, N. 155 Baglioni, Simone 14–15, 30, 224–42, 281–2 Banbury 168 Bang, H. 97 Banner, M. 67 Barber, B. 5 Barnes, S.T. 155 Basque Country, culture 244–9 Baumgartner, F.R. 176 Bell, D.A. 7 Bentley, A.F. 3 Berger, S. 154 Berman, S. 100 Bern/Berne: activities overview 85–93; ageing of associations 197–202; appearance of generations 204–15; city size/associational ecologies 230–41; density 41–3; distribution of resources 124–6; external resources 135–43; inclusiveness/exclusiveness 156–60; inter-organizational networking 160–2; internal structure of associations 100–9; involvement patterns 47–9; levels of activity 254–9; local context 126–8; multivariate analysis of resources 143–8; networking 164–5; organizational ecology changes 220–2; overview 248–9; participatory outputs 43–6; participatory vehicles 69–75, 215–20; political contacts 181–8; political/ cultural context 244–6; political/ policy factors 31–5; range/diversity of associative life 58–62; sectorial taxonomy of activity 62–8; sectorial types 68–75 Berton, Marina 10–11, 19–36 Besier, G. 69 Bilbao: levels of activity 254–9; overview 244–7 Birch, A.H. 167 Bobritzsch 230–41 Bolligen 230–41 Bonoli, G. 33

Britain: appearance of generations 204–15; democratic experience/ development 27; networking 167–8; welfare state 33–4; see also Scotland bureaucratic contacts 238–9 Burger, A. 29 Bütschi, D. 120 Caiani, Manuela 14, 175–90, 273, 276–7 Caldes de Montbui 230–41 Caroll, G.R. 196 Castells, M. 97 Catalonia: city size/associational ecologies 230–41; culture 244–7 Cattacin, S. 120 Chambers, S. 55, 56 Chemnitz: levels of activity 254–9; overview 230–41, 244–6, 247–8 church-based organizations 33, 34, 41–2 cities, sectorial types 68–9 city size and associational ecologies: conceptual considerations 225–7; empirical results 234–41; overview 224–5; research design 230–4; summary 280–2; theoretical considerations 227–30 civic engagement, effects of 6–9 civil society perspectives 53–8 Clark, P. 156 Clarke, J. 34 class-based associations 96–7 client-oriented activities/associations 83–93, 183 Cloward, R.A. 8 Cobb, R. 226 Cohen, J.L. 55, 56 Coleman, J.S. 8 Colomer, J.M. 30, 250 community survey tradition 20, 21 connectedness 226–7, 229–30 consultative councils 251 contacts: reasons for 183–4, 185–8; regional differences 263–6; structure of 182; summary 279–80; see also local government contacts contexts: local 24–35; research design 19–24 corporatist welfare model 34, 35, 180 Crissier 230–41 cross-cutting links 167–70 cultural context: Bilbao/Alcalá de Henares 246–7; Chemnitz 247–8; consequences of federalism 249–52; Lausanne 248–9; levels of activity

Index 303 254–9; overview 244–6; profile of activities 260–1; regime change 252–4; resources 261–6 Dahl, R.A. 176, 224, 228, 229, 234, 235, 238 Dähn, H. 252 Dechamps, A. 28 democracy and participation 3–6 democratic experiences 26–30 democratic relevance 224–5 Denmark: appearance of generations 204–15; democratic experience/ development 26–7; legal requirements 103; welfare state 35 density: conceptual considerations 225–6; and diversity 271–3; empirical results 234–41; Europe 40–3; theoretical considerations 227–9 Denters, Bas 14–15, 224–42, 281–2 Denters, S.A.H. 224 Diamond, L. 55 DiMaggio, P.J. 140 direct democratic institutions 250–1 direct financial support 32–3 diversity: activities 84–5; associative life 58–62; conceptual considerations 225–6; and density 271–3; empirical results 234–41; theoretical considerations 227–9 donations 135–43 Edwards, B. 8 Edwards, J.N. 15 efficiency measurement, participatory outputs 43–5 Enschede: activities overview 85–93; ageing of associations 197–202; appearance of generations 204–15; density 41–3; distribution of resources 124–6; external resources 135–43; inclusiveness/exclusiveness 156–60; inter-organizational networking 160–2; internal structure of associations 100–9; involvement patterns 47–9; local context 126–8; multivariate analysis of resources 143–8; networking 164–5; organizational ecology changes 220–2; participatory outputs 43–6; participatory vehicles 69–75, 215–20; political contacts 181–8; political/ policy factors 31–5; range/diversity of associative life 58–62; sectorial

taxonomy of activity 62–8; sectorial types 68–75 Esping-Andersen, G. 33, 64, 70 ethnic dimensions, impacts 25–6 ethnic minorities 41; and inclusiveness/exclusiveness 159–60 Etzioni, A. 176 exclusiveness 155, 156–60, 172–3 executive contacts 238–9 external resources 135–43 federalism 30–1, 249–52, 280–2 Ferrazzi, G. 284 Ferrer-Fons, Mariona 12–13, 96–117, 275 fertility rates 199–202 financial dependency 177–8, 179, 183–4, 185–7 financial resources, distribution of 121–6 financial support 32–3 Finland, networking 154–5 Fiorina, M. 8 Foley, M. 8 Font, Joan 10–11, 19–36, 251 formal representative rule 98–117 Fossas, E. 250 France, networking 154 free-riding 228–9, 230 Freeman, J. 196 French-speaking Switzerland: city size/ associational ecologies 230–41; culture 248–9, 250–1 Friedrichs, J. 247, 248 fundraising 135–43 Gaardsted, F.A. 224 Gabriel, O.W. 252, 253 Galaskiewicz, J. 21, 164, 180 Gallego, R. 250 gender, and inclusiveness/ exclusiveness 158–9, 171 generations: changing organizational ecology 220–2; first empirical evidence 204–15; overview 202–4; as participatory vehicle 215–20 German-speaking Switzerland: city size/associational ecologies 230–41; culture 248–9, 250–1 Germany: appearance of generations 204–15; democratic experience/ development 28–9; impact of federal structure 30–1, 249–52; legal requirements 103;

304 Index Germany continued profile/level of activities 254–61; regime change 252–4; regional differences 244–6, 247–8; resources 261–6; welfare state 34 Gomà, R. 251 Gornig, M. 248 government funding 135–43 Granovetter, M.S. 153 Gray, V. 225, 226 Guerts, Peter 10–11, 19–36, 126, 224 Gutmann, A. 3, 4 Habermas, J. 55, 56, 226 Hall, P. 24, 119, 203 Hannan, M.T. 196 Hansen, J.M. 10 Hansen, T. 22, 155, 164, 177, 181 Harris, M. 91 Häußermann, H. 247, 248 horizontal organizations 98–117 Horton Smith, D. 154 Huckfeldt, R. 180 Huissoud, T. 250 Huntingdon, S.P. 5 ideology and administrations 31–2 Ilker, H.-G. 196 Immergut, E.M. 155 inclusiveness 155–60, 172–3 indirect financial support 32–3 individualistic: pattern of participation 119–20; survey tradition 20–1 informal networking 97 institutional characteristics 26–31 instrumental activities 82–5; versus maintenance activities 86–8 inter-organizational networking 153–4, 156, 160–4, 167–70, 184–5, 196–8 interest group politics 177 internal structure: classical secondary model 100–9; overview 96–100; and participation 109–14 involvement: comparison of patterns 46–9; patterns 273–5 issue concerns: civil society perspective 53–8; overview 52–3; range and diversity 58–62; sectorial taxonomy of activity 62–8; sectorial types as participatory vehicles 69–75; sectorial types in cities 68–9 issue-specific associations 119–21

Joas, H. 56 Johnson, G.E. 154 Jordan, G. 98, 118 Joye, D. 250 Keating, P.E. 224 Keen, S. 27, 279 Kendall, J. 3, 279 Key, V.O. 176 Klausen, K.K. 96 Klein, A. 54, 55–6, 57 Knapp, M. 3, 279 Knoke, D. 177, 178, 180 Kölz, A. 250 Kreuter, F. 39 Kriesi, Hanspeter 13, 15, 30, 31, 83, 84, 118–51, 244–66, 274, 279, 282 Kuhnle, S. 33, 35 Kunz, V. 253 La Due Lake, R. 180 Laasko, M. 141 Lane, C. 153 Langan, M. 34 Larson, O.F. 154 Laumann, E.O. 21, 177, 180 Lausanne: levels of activity 254–9; overview 230–41, 248–9 Lauth, H.-J. 55 Leech, B.L. 176 legal requirements 102–4 Lehmbruch, G. 203 Leijenaar, M.H. 22 leisure sector 57–75 Lelieveldt, Herman 12, 14, 22, 81–94, 153, 156, 175–90, 273, 274, 276–8 Lepsius, M.R. 202, 204 Levi, M. 9 liberal welfare model 33–4 life cycles 195, 196–7 Lijphart, A. 232 Limbach-Oberfrohna 230–41 Linz, J.J. 30, 56, 250 Little, K. 154 local context as determinants of resources 126–8, 143–8 local government contacts 238–9 local integration 85–6 Lomasky, L.E. 54 Lowery, D. 225, 226 Lynd, H.M. 21 Lynd, R.S. 21 Madison, James 8

Index 305 maintenance activities 82–6; versus instrumental activities 86–8 Mair, P. 119 majoritarian cultures 244–5 Maloney, William A. 3–15, 19–36, 39–50, 52–76, 98, 118, 271–85 management structure, differentiation in 98–117 Mannheim: activities overview 85–93; ageing of associations 197–202; appearance of generations 204–15; city size/associational ecologies 230–41; density 41–3; distribution of resources 124–6; external resources 135–43; inclusiveness/exclusiveness 156–60; inter-organizational networking 160–2; internal structure of associations 100–9; involvement patterns 47–9; levels of activity 254–9; local context 126–8; multivariate analysis of resources 143–8; networking 164–5; organizational ecology changes 220–2; overview 247–8; participatory outputs 43–6; participatory vehicles 69–75, 215–20; political contacts 181–8; political/cultural context 244–6; political/policy factors 31–5; range/diversity of associative life 58–62; sectorial taxonomy of activity 62–8; sectorial types 68–75 mapping unmapped terrain 284–5 market sector 57–75 McCarthy, J.D. 118 McConnnell, G. 3 Medina, Lucia 14, 195–222, 281 Melbeck, C. 177 membership associations 120, 122–6 membership: and city size 239–41; competition for 42–3; dues 135–48; and political contacts 179; size of 98–117 Merkel, W. 55, 252 Michels, R. 83, 109, 196 Middleton, M. 196 minority cultures 244–5 mobilization activities 84, 85–93; and resources 128–35, 143–8 mobilization, logic of 229, 237–9 Mohr, L.B. 83, 88 Mommsen, W.J. 69 Morales, Laura 14–15, 126, 224–42, 244–66, 281–2 Moreno, L. 34–5, 250

Morris, D. 155 mortality rates 199–202 Mouritzen, P.E. 224 Mutz, D. 156 natural-system model 86, 88 Navarro, C.J. 250 Neckel, S. 247 neo-institutionalism 202–3 Netherlands: appearance of generations 204–15; democratic experience/development 28–9; legal requirements 102–3; welfare state 34, 180 network position and political contacts 180–1, 185, 186 network society 96–7 networking: inclusiveness/ exclusiveness 156–60; interorganizational 160–4; interpretation 171–3; overview 153–4; social cohesion 154–6; summary 279–80; volunteers and activists 164–7; within/ across group segments 167–70 Newcastle-under-Lyme 167 Newman, J. 97 Newton, Ken 13–14, 20, 22, 97, 153–73, 176, 177, 178–9, 181, 182, 188, 242, 279–80 Nie, N.H. 228, 230, 234 Niedermayer, O. 253 non-member based associations 45 Nordic welfare model 35 Oliver, J.E. 224 Olsen, M. 10, 155 Olson, M. 8, 88, 110, 176, 229 operationalization 121–2 organizational ecology, changes in 220–2 Orr, M. 8 Oymyr, B. 196 Panebianco, A. 118–19 Pappi, F.U. 21, 177 Parsons, T. 82 participation: and democracy 3–6; and internal structure 109–14; paradox of 283–4 participatory outputs, measurement of 43–6 participatory patterns 91–3 participatory vehicles: age and generation as 215–20; sectorial types as 69–75

306 Index passive members 43–6; and internal structure 109–14 path dependency 202–3 Perez, D. 30 Pfeffer, J. 178 Phillips, A. 55 Piven, F.F. 8 policy factors 31–5 policy-oriented activities/associations 83–93, 177, 183 political connectedness: conceptual considerations 226–7; and city size 237–9; empirical results 234–41; theoretical considerations 229–30 political contacts 177–81 political context: Bilbao/Alcalá de Henares 246–7; Chemnitz/ Mannheim 247–8; consequences of federalism 249–52; Lausanne 248–9; levels of activity 254–9; overview 244–6; profile of activities 260–1; regime change 252–4; resources 261–6 political dimensions 9–10, 276–8 political factors 31–5 political generations see generations political role: empirical results 181–8; overview 175–7; contacts 177–81 politics sector 57–75 Portes, A. 8 Post, H. 252 Powell, W.W. 140 pressure group role 177, 178 private dimensions 278–9 professional associations 120–1, 122–6 professional staff 83–5, 91, 93, 184–5; and resources 135–43 public dimensions 278–9 Putnam, R.D. 3–4, 6, 9–10, 39, 57, 97, 98, 155, 159, 224, 227, 252, 274–5, 284 Pütz, C. 203 quantity measurement, participatory outputs 43–4 Radecki, H. 155 Rae, D.W. 175, 176 Raschke, J. 29, 203–4 regime change 252–4 regional contextual differences 249–54 regulations 251 relative density 226, 228, 234–41 religious dimensions 25–6; sector 69

representation activities 84, 85–93; and resources 128–35, 143–8 representative rule 98–117 Requejo, F. 250 research design 19–24 resource dependency theory 186 resources: and activity levels 148–50; age effects 143; distribution 122–6; external 135–43; impact on political contacts 184–8; local context 126–8; multivariate analysis 143–8; and networking 164–5, 172; operationalization 121–2; overview 118–21; regional differences 261–6; and size 135; and task domain 128–35; see also financial resources, distribution of Roßteutscher, Sigrid 3–15, 25, 28, 39–50, 52–76, 195–222, 271–85 Rose, A. 154 Rose, L.E. 224 Rosenblum, N. 7–8, 9 Rosenkrands, J. 96 Rosenstone, S.J. 10 Ross, J.C. 154 Ross, J.K. 226 Ross, M.H. 226 Rothenberg, L.S. 52–3 Rothstein, B. 40, 119, 120 Sabadell: activities overview 85–93; ageing of associations 197–202; appearance of generations 204–15; city size/associational ecologies 230–41; density 40–3; distribution of resources 124–6; external resources 135–43; inclusiveness/exclusiveness 156–60; inter-organizational networking 160–2; internal structure of associations 100–9; involvement patterns 47–9; levels of activity 254–9; local context 126–8; multivariate analysis of resources 143–8; networking 164–5; organizational ecology changes 220–2; overview 246–7; participatory outputs 43–6; participatory vehicles 69–75, 215–20; political contacts 181–8; political/ cultural context 244–6; political/ policy factors 31–5; range/diversity of associative life 58–62; sectorial taxonomy of activity 62–8; sectorial types 68–75 Sabl, A. 162–3

Index 307 Salamon, L.M. 33, 35 Salancik, G.R. 178 sales revenue 135–43 Schattschneider, E.E. 155, 176 Scheuch, E.K. 29 Schlesinger, A. Sr. 154 Schmid, J. 252, 253 Schmidt, V.A. 34 Schryer, F. 284 Schumpeter, J.A. 5 Schüttemeyer, S.S. 202 Scotland: legal requirements 103; welfare state 180–1 Scott, R.W. 82 secondary associations model 96–7, 98, 99–109 sectorial: political contacts 181–2; taxonomy of activity 62–8; types as participatory vehicles 69–75; types in cities 68–9 sectors: activities by 85–93; civil society perspective 53–8; inclusiveness/ exclusiveness by 157–60; inter–organizational networking by 162–3; networking inside 167–70, 172; overview 52–3; range and diversity 58–62; resources by 128–35 segmented networking 167–70, 172 self-help activities 85 Selle, Per 14, 22, 96, 97, 195–222, 281 service activities 84, 85–93, 251; and resources 128–35, 143–8 Sharpe, L.J. 224 Sills, D. 154 Simmel, G. 153 Singh, J.V. 196 size see associational size and resources; city size and associational ecologies; membership size Skocpol, T. 97, 119, 175–6, 279 Smith J.D. 41 social cleavages 155–6, 159 social cohesion 154–6 social connectedness: and city size 235–7; conceptual considerations 226–7; empirical results 235–7; theoretical considerations 229 social dimensions 9–10, 276–8 social integration 85–6 social resources and political contacts 180–1 socio-cultural context 24–6 Soerensen, E. 97 Sokolowskji, S.W. 33

solidaristic individualism 119–20 Spain: appearance of generations 204–15; democratic experience/ development 29–30; impact of federal structure 30–1, 249–52; legal requirements 103; profile/level of activities 254–61; regime change 253–4; regional differences 244–7; resources 261–6; welfare state 34–5, 180–1 Sprague, J. 180 Stacey, M. 168 staff see professional staff Stephan, A. 56 Stevenson, Linda 12, 81–94, 274, 276, 277–8 Stoker, G. 60 Streeck, W. 155 Süß, W. 252 Subirats, J. 30, 250 subsidiarity principle 30, 249–50 survival of the fittest 216 Sweden, networking 155 Switzerland: appearance of generations 204–15; democratic experience/ development 27–8; impact of federal structure 30–1, 249–52; legal requirements 103; profile/level of activities 254–61; regional differences 244–6, 248–9; resources 261–6; welfare state 33, 180 Sydow, J. 153 Taagepera, R. 141 Tamin, Y. 4 task domain, and resources 128–35 task-specific associations 119–21 tasks, delegation/non-delegation 83–5, 91, 93 Taylor, M. 60 Taylor, R.C.R. 203 territorial scope of activity 124–5 tertiary associations 98 Thompson, E.P. 27 Thompson, J.D. 128 Thun 230–41 Tocqueville, A. 3, 9, 39, 81, 163, 171, 224 Toepler, S. 119, 126 Torpe, Lars 12–13, 96–117, 275 Truman, D.B. 10, 176, 177 Tufte, E.R. 224, 228, 229, 234, 235, 238 Turk, H. 155

308 Index umbrella funding 135–43 Vaihingen/Enz 230–41 van den Brande 252 van Deth, J.W. 4, 10, 22, 39, 40, 63, 64 Veldheer, V. 29 Verba, S. 228, 230, 234 vertical organizations 98–117 Vetter, Angelika 14–15, 224–42, 281–2 Voelzkow, H. 252, 253 voluntarism: and city size 239–41; conceptual considerations 227; and networking 164–7; theoretical considerations 230 voluntary sector and welfare state 33–5 Walker, J. 73 Wall, E. 284 Walter-Rogg, Melanie 15, 244–66, 282 Walzer, M. 54–5, 56, 65

Ware, A. 3 Warren, M.E. 4, 6–7, 14, 91, 156, 176, 225, 226, 227, 241, 278 Weber, M. 74 welfare state 33–5 Wernli, B. 251 West Africa, networking 154, 155 West Germany, city size/associational ecologies 230–41 Wiesenthal, H. 56 Wintle, M. 252 Wollebek, D. 97 Wuthnow, R. 41, 67, 74, 119 Young, R.C. 154 Yverdon-les-bains 230–41 Zald, M.N. 118 Zimmer, A. 24, 188, 203 Zmerli, Sonja 13–14, 153–73, 279–80

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