The normalization of far-right politics and racist rhetoric in Europe and the US has led, unsurprisingly, to the rapid growth of a literature examining the potential return of fascism and the concomitant decline of democracy (e.g. Albright (2018); Temelkuran (2019); Bonikowski (2017); Rooduijn (2017); Inglehart and Norris (2016); Albertazzi and McDonnell (2015, 2008); Moffit (2016); Mudde (2004; 2007; 2017); Müller (2016); Kaltwasser, C. Rovira et al. (2017); Mudde and Kaltwassser (2012); Pauwels (2014); and Crouch (2004)).  In general, this literature calls out the tactics of far-right political parties, notably utilization of social media to disseminate false information; demonization of migrants, who have allegedly spoilt a homeland that supposedly no longer represents ‘authentic’ values; defiance of global and regional (EU) institutions; and often rejection of climate science. Once in power, these parties attempt to limit freedom of expression and the autonomy of civil society (for instance, through forcing NGOs to declare foreign donations). As the Civicus 2018 State of Civil Society report notes, ‘civil society can find itself slurred for an alleged association with globalism and elites, putting it at odds with assertions of national self-interest. Hard-line rulers repress civil society when it tries to hold them accountable and stand up for excluded groups, such as migrants, refugees and LGBTI people’ (2018: 7).  In government, far-right parties can also attempt to subvert or remove restrictions on their authority, initiate economic and environmental deregulation, and encourage attacks on political opponents. Together, the trends portend a dark future for human rights and the strength of democratic institutions.

The British academic Colin Crouch explains that when a flourishing democracy does exist, it depends upon a vibrant civil society and engagement on an everyday level amongst citizens. He writes: ‘Democracy thrives when there are major opportunities for the mass of ordinary people actively to participate, through discussion and autonomous organisations, in shaping the agenda of public life, and when these opportunities are being actively used by them’ (2012). Our current state has resulted from a decline in these opportunities, or the capacity of citizens to influence increasingly distant political elites. Drawing on my own research and practice-based work with charities in the UK between 2004-17¹, I suggest that despite shrinking avenues for influencing policy, social activism to combat the effects of austerity measures imposed after 2010 is setting an agenda, even if not through conventional means. The agenda, in brief, is an alternative conception of social belonging and understanding of how political authority becomes legitimate.

The time period for my research, which took place before and after the financial crisis in 2007-08, allowed me to compare social action between the Labour government (2004-2010), with its embrace of New Public Management and regeneration strategies (Alcock, 2010); the Conservative-Liberal Democrat coalition government (2010-15), which imposed austerity; and Conservative government (2015-today), which has overseen the continuation of austerity, growth in poverty, especially amongst working families², shrinking access to public services, and Brexit. During these years, charities shifted from their utilitarian role under New Labour, namely when the government adopted the American model of sub-contracting public services to charities to ‘increase efficiency and lower cost’ (Kramer, 1994; Ryan, 1999; Lipsky and Smith, 1988-89). Under austerity, they have assumed a more explicitly oppositional role³, as they have struggled to provide a safety net in the absence of public services.

In my experience, social activism under austerity, which has ranged from running food banks to organizing intercultural events to setting up social enterprises, has relied upon cooperation between diverse socio-economic, ethnic, and religious groups to succeed. The need for cooperation is due to scarce resources, the extent of social demand, and the pressure on individual religious and civic leaders, already pre-occupied with their day jobs, to address this demand.  As a consequence though, this cooperation has engendered principles and methods of fostering local social solidarity that run counter to dominant policy approaches to complex issues, from the integration of migrants to state responsibility for addressing individual needs and sustaining a society. In short, solidarity requires openness, or rather, no boundaries or markers of exclusion; improving communication and engagement amongst local residents, religious institutions and charities, and local government officials; and willingness to collaborate on the accumulation and redistribution of resources.

The local social activists whom I have spoken to over the years also deliberately differentiate their work with low-income and socially marginalized groups from the perceived discriminatory and ideologically-driven authority the State exercises over fulfilment of basic needs and, essentially, human life.  As one activist put it, ‘being faith-based means we are neutral. Because we are not the State, we are safe’. Likewise, the authority of the activists relies on protecting what the philosopher Giorgio Agamben (1998) calls ‘bare life’ (bios), or biological life. By protecting ‘bare life’, their authority upends the logic of modern political systems that, according to Agamben, have assumed increasing authority over ‘bare life’ while negating responsibility for the ‘good life’ (zoē), or life’s potential. The effect of this increasing modern state authority has been to render indistinct the boundary between inclusion and exclusion, as authority extends to existence itself. Agamben (1998: 12) explains that, ‘the realm of bare life —which is originally situated at the margins of the political order— gradually begins to coincide with the political realm, and exclusion and inclusion, outside and inside, bios and zoē, right and fact, enter into a zone of irreducible indistinction’. Activists have responded by inverting this process, or arguing that authority over bare life and the absence of any sphere of social exclusion means that the State is obliged to ensure that each individual, regardless of their background, can achieve the good life.

More specifically, austerity measures like the introduction of taxes on unoccupied bedrooms in social housing or sanctions due to missed interviews at job centres have meant that individuals reliant on public benefits have been deprived both of access to necessary material support and the moral right to have this support. The flawed Universal Credit Scheme can compound insecurity and marginalization, as it  pays at the end of the month —like a job— rather than upfront, meaning that low-income welfare recipients may lack the funds necessary for basic needs (Timmins, 2016). Conversely, social activists who have set up projects like food banks and advocated for beneficiaries to restore welfare payments have both tried to provide support and ‘restore’ moral rights. They call the state out for ignoring the human consequences of policy, from the disregarding of legitimate excuses for missing job centre appointments (such as a job interview) to the setting aside of individual claimants’ vulnerabilities (e.g. because of mental health).

Instead, local forms of social solidarity deliberately invest meaning in every single life. For example, the director of a job placement project in Manchester explained how he cultivated social networks with local businesses in order to find the long-term unemployed a position, deliberately contrasting government job centres’ ‘tick box’ project designs, which rely on the quantification of interviews and highly managed interaction with jobseekers. The beneficiaries of his project were marginalized men and women who had been jobless due to mental health issues, domestic violence, addiction, and so on.

The practical reliance on cooperation and the deliberate openness mean that social activism under austerity does not easily generate identifiable forms of social organization. There are no ‘markers’ to delineate boundaries, as with conventional conceptions of community, for instance (Brubaker, 2011). Everyone, regardless of background, is invited to participate in the process of constant accumulation and redistribution of resources amongst local residents. In the process, identity necessarily becomes more relational, practice-based, and multi-layered, evoking an ambiguity that clashes with narratives of social division and tensions.

The implication of local activism, grounded as it is in everyday experiences of rejection and despair, is that it is important to reinvigorate notions of social solidarity in political discourse and to set parallel objectives in policy in order to sustain democracy. There is a correspondence between the activism responding to austerity and calls to drop privatization of public services in favour of restoring public values (see Hutton, 2019) or more practical community wealth building models that utilize government procurement practices (see the Centre for Local Economic Strategies in the UK) to favour local social enterprises, cooperatives, and businesses that follow particular social practices, like paying the living wage.

However, altering economic policy is still detached from the call for solidarity. The Civicus report cited above argues that the opposition across national borders between sets of values is becoming more stark and citizens are finding innovative ways to protest and mobilize. The introduction to the report begins with the statement: ‘[O]n one side are those who seek the creation of a just, inclusive and sustainable world, and on the other, those who actively fight against such efforts’ (2018: 4). Echoing one side of this opposition, the purpose of local social solidarity in my research was to undermine political boundary-making founded on social stigmatization and economic insecurity. The policy alternative activists sought was to make solidarity the norm, or the neutral position (Kohlers, 2016) the public expects in policymaking. The challenge, of course, will be to realize this ambition. McCrea et al (2017) call for an alliance between community development and social movements, as they often share the same vision. Social movements can help community development organizations overcome their functional role within market economies possessed of high inequality rates and, inversely, recognize their potential to instigate social change. Perversely, austerity has diminished this functional role and, likewise, given the charities and activists that have survived the confidence to push for another framework altogether for political authority and policymaking.

About the author

Shana Cohen is the director of an independent think tank based in Dublin, TASC, which looks at issues related to inequality and democracy in Ireland and the EU. She is also an affiliate researcher with the Sociology Department at the University of Cambridge. Her latest publications include “Solidarity and the Future of Global Social Policy,” Global Social Policy, April 2019, and Transforming Social Action into Social Change, Routledge, 2017.

Endnotes

1. Specifically, the practice-based work consisted of one evaluation for the National Association of Voluntary and Community Action (NAVCA) of Local Strategic Partnerships (LSPs), a small evaluation in Benchill, Greater Manchester for the Church Urban Fund, and an evaluation for the Voluntary Action Sheffield of charities engaged in work with older people and with youth. After the imposition of austerity measures, I conducted an evaluation of the Together grants —which are intended to assist church-based projects fight poverty— and three evaluations of the Near Neighours programme.[1] Both of these have been managed by the Church Urban Fund, the Church of England’s local anti-poverty organisation. Near Neighbours (2011-17) was supported by the Department of Communities and Local Government and provided small grants to projects run by two or more groups representing different beliefs and religions. The academic research was primarily based on a study of interfaith social activism between 2013-16. [↩]
2. See the Joseph Rowntree Foundation’s website for statistics on poverty in the UK. https://www.jrf.org.uk/data [↩]
3. An example of this opposition is the Trussell Trust, which is associated with the Church of England and operates a franchise network of local foodbanks all over the UK. The Trust has been very frank in its criticism of government policies that lead to individuals and families having to use foodbanks. https://www.trusselltrust.org [↩]

References