The Riddle of the Third Sector: Civil Society, International Aid, and NGOs in Russia

The Riddle of the Third Sector: Civil Society, International Aid,and NGOs in Russia

Julie Hemment

Anthropological Quarterly, Volume 77, Number 2, Spring 2004, pp.215-241 (Article)

Published by George Washington University Institute for Ethnographic Research

DOI: 10.1353/anq.2004.0069

For additional information about this article

Access provided by UMass Amherst Libraries (10 Oct 2013 13:14 GMT)

http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/anq/summary/v077/77.2hemment.html

http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/anq/summary/v077/77.2hemment.html

215

The Riddle of the ThirdSector: Civil Society,International Aid, and NGOsin Russia

Julie HemmentUniversity of Massachusetts

Abstract This article examines the forms and logic of political activism encouraged by in-

t e rn ational development agencies in Russia by focusing on the project to pro-

mote civil society development. The ve rsion of c ivil society that has been brought

into being by we s t e rn design—the third sector—is far from wh at Russian activ i s t s

d e s i red and wh at donor agencies promised. Despite its claims to allow a gr a s s r o o t s

to flourish, the third sector is a professionalized realm of NGOs, inaccessible to

most local groups and compromised by its links to a neoliberal vision of devel-

opment. The article pushes beyond some of the recent polarized discussions of

NGOs (wh e re they are rega rded as either “go o d ” or “bad”) to show that despite its

a m b ivalent eff e c t s, the idea of the third sector remains compelling to local actors.

D r awing on ex t e n s ive ethnogr aphic fi e l dwork with provincial wo m e n’s gr o u p s, this

article examines local responses to the third sector and considers its unexpected

signifying possibilities. [Postsocialism, civil society, third sector, gender]

day

The Riddle of the Third Sector: Civil Society, International Aid, and NGOs in Russia

216

This book seems too emotional for a textbook. It appears too dry and

practical for journalism. Let me tell you a secret—I have done this on pur-

pose, so that you, my readers could not only gain an intellectual under-

standing of the third sector, but in order that you could feel in your heart

the people who live and work in it.

The third sector is not a spy novel. The third sector—tru ly, tru ly — i s n’t

the name of a secret military orga n i z ation in Zimbabwe; it’s not even part

of a football field.

I t’s you and I. That’s wh at this book is about. About us. Surp r i s e d ?

L e t’s think about it some more. When you are sold a color television and

it bre a ks down within a week, and the technician shrugs his shoulders —

who will help you defend your consumer rights? That’s right, the con-

sumer defense orga n i z ation…. When your only son is sent to serve in the

army in a hot spot, to whom can you run for assistance? To the Soldiers

Mothers committee. There, you will find mothers and fathers who, just

like you, don’t want to wait for acts of kindness from the military com-

m i t t e e. When your child falls seriously ill, who is the first to offer help? The

society of parents with disabled children. It’s all the third sector—non-

commercial organizations, formed by people to resolve their problems,

or just in order to be together.

(Alekseeva, Olga. Tretii Sektor, Blagotvoritel’nost’ dlia Chainikov.

London: Charities Aid Foundation, 1996)

The term “third sector” (t retii sektor) that this text teaches and celebrat e s

was first introduced to the vo c ab u l a ry of Russian activists by intern at i o n-

al donor age n c i e s. Although incomprehensible to most Russian people, it

has become a crucial signifier for those invo l ved in the commu n i t y - b a s e d

a c t ivism I ex p l o red in my re s e a rch. Third sector is used widely in the Ru s s i a n -

l a n g u age promotional literat u re intern ational fo u n d ations use to adve rt i s e

their activ i t y, and in the instructional materials they pro d u c e. “Charity fo r

B eg i n n e rs” is one such ex a m p l e. Published in Russian by the British Charities

Aid Fo u n d ation (CAF), and authored by Olga Aleks e eva, the info rm ation off i-

cer in the Moscow office of C A F,1 it has been widely distributed amongst non-

gove rnmental orga n i z ations in Russia. I first came across it in Kat i a ’s library,

a friend from the provincial city Tver’. An enthusiastic participant in local

groups and associat i o n s, Katia had accumu l ated a wide variety of t h i rd sec-

tor support materials; Aleks e ev a ’s text had fallen into her hands when she at-

tended a CAF seminar in Tver’.

217

JULIE HEMMENT

But what is the third sector? Although a western-identified model, the term

is not widely known in either Britain or the US (to the consternation of my

Russian activist friends, I was no better info rmed than they we re). The third sec-

tor is a realm of informal groups—associations, clubs, or NGOs (non-govern-

mental orga n i z ations). It derives its name from its role in a triad, wh e re the firs t

is the state, the second is the private sector of businesses and enterprises, and

the third is the realm of citizens’ initiat ive s.2 B eyond this, as Aleks e ev a ’s text sug-

gests, the third sector is a project of persuasion, one that has sought to trans-

fo rm purp o rt e d ly dependent and politically passive Soviets into active citizens,

savvy consumers, claimers of rights and defenders of their interests. The third

sector rep resented a riddle to the Russian activists I wo rked with in my re-

search; although many found the idea captivating, they were troubled by the

way it had transformed their work. As such, the third sector offers a good site

from which to rethink the forms and logic of political activism encouraged by

international development agencies in the post-Cold War period.

In this art i cl e, I contribute to recent critical sch o l a rship of aid to postsocialist

s t ates by examining the project to build a third sector in Russia. In the first half

o f the art i cl e, I examine the discurs ive prominence of the third sector by ac-

counting for its rise and tracing its origins. I show how it is linked to the con-

c ept of c ivil society, wh i ch has been a key term of d e m o c r at i z ation. Starting as

a rallying cry of East European oppositionists in the 1980s, in the 1990s it

took on a quite diffe rent meaning when it became central to a new, neoliberal

vision of d evelopment that encourages non-gove rnmental groups to take on

the functions of the stat e. In the second half o f the art i cl e, I draw on long-term

f i e l dwo rk with Russian wo m e n’s groups to consider the significance of t h e s e

shifts by inve s t i gating the third sector ethnogr ap h i c a l ly. I introduce three con-

s u m e rs of the third sector message: Lydia, a fo rmer Communist Pa rty activ i s t

t u rned NGO pro fessional; Katia, the unemployed provincial woman who firs t

i n t roduced me to Aleks e ev a ’s text; and Maria, a wo m e n’s movement activ i s t

who mediates between fo u n d ations and local wo m e n’s gro u p s.3 T h rough pre-

senting these three cases, I highlight local contention about the third sector

and consider the riddle that it rep re s e n t s. Contributing to recent critical sch o l-

a rship on NGOs and civil society, I show that the third sector that has been cre-

ated by intern ational donor agencies bears little resemblance to the civ i l

society that was desired by Russian actors. Neither does it deliver wh at it

p romises: rather than allowing a gr a s s roots to flourish, the third sector prov i d e s

a structural and symbolic framewo rk for the rep roduction of fo rmer elites of

the Soviet reg i m e. It fa c i l i t ates the ge n d e red distribution of p ower and re-


218

s o u rces and contributes to the fo rm ation of h i e r a rch i e s, jealousies and com-

petition between gro u p s. Howeve r, moving beyond some of the polarized dis-

cussions that tend to rega rd NGOs as either “good” (librat o ry social move m e n t s,

evidence of “ gl o b a l i z ation from below”) or “bad” (elite and fat a l ly compro-

mised by their complicity with neoliberal re s t ructuring), I show that in the

t h i rd sector the good and bad are intertwined and interd ep e n d e n t .4 I show that

despite its short c o m i n g s, the idea of the third sector remains compelling to lo-

cal actors. “Third sector” has become an important part of the imag i n a ry

rep e rt o i re of Russian activists; it is a site of c o n t e s t ation and sense making (be-

t ween money and morality, state and society). As such, it offe rs a rich site fo r

an inve s t i gation of the “construction and contestation of n ew cultural land-

s c apes” and the “emergence of n ew asymmetrical power re l ations” in trans-

fo rming postsocialist states (Berdahl 2000:1).

ContextThe backdrop for this new talk about the third sector in Russia is the restruc-

turing of the social services following the collapse of state socialism, the emer-

gence of the first independent community groups and the influx of i n t e rn at i o n a l

c apital to these groups in the fo rm of grants and fu n d i n g. During the Soviet pe-

riod, education, healthcare, and ch i l d - c a re we re provided by the pat e rnalist so-

cialist stat e. While these services we re under- re s o u rced and unsat i s fa c t o ry, they

were a crucial part of the social contract (Cook 1993). The dissolution of the

USSR in 1991 and the collapse of the socialist state led to the steady erosion of

social guarantees in Russia. Radical economic and social re fo rms undert a ken by

Russia’s first democratic governments during the 1990s compounded this ero-

sion and failed to install new stru c t u re s. As Aleks e ev a ’s account sugge s t s, in this

mu rky situation there we re no guarantees for either human or consumer rights

and no adequate health care. Russian people struggled to deal with the new

post-socialist phenomena of unemployment, withheld wages and hyperinfla-

tion, in the absence of a functioning social safety net.

The question of responsibility for social needs has been urgently contested

by the associations of the new non-governmental sphere—women’s groups,

consumer rights groups and other associations. These groups were first per-

mitted during the p e re s t r o i ka period of the late 1980s as General Secre t a ry

G o r b a ch ev tried to democratize Soviet society from ab ove.5 The term civil society

(grazhdanskoe obshchestvo) entered Russian political discourse during this pe-

riod, as first Gorbachev, and subsequently Russian reformist politicians, con-

219

JULIE HEMMENT

s c i o u s ly sought to ch a n ge the nat u re of re l ations between individual and stat e

by creating an active citizenry that would take on more responsibility in socie-

ty (Pilkington 1992). Societal gro u p s ( o b s h ch e s t ve n nyi orga n i z at s i i ) mu s h ro o m e d

in the early 1990s in response to the collapse of the Soviet system of social se-

c u r i t y. Women are ve ry prominent in this type of a s s o c i ation (Lipov s kaya 1997,

S p e rling 2000). In response to the mu ch commented upon “masculinization” of

post-socialist public space (Pilkington 1992, Watson 1993), women have found

a niche in the nascent non-governmental sphere.6 For many, it is perceived as

a counter-model to the “dirty” realms of politics and business.

Since the early 1990s, we s t e rn-identified donor agencies such as the Charities

Aid Fo u n d ation, Eurasia, the Fo rd Fo u n d ation, and MacArthur have stepped in-

to the fray, contributing to the project to fo rge citizen activism and re s p o n s i b l e

e n gagement. They have specifically sought independent community groups to

work with, as part of their commitment to civil society development. Aid to

wo m e n’s groups has fo rmed a pro p o rt i o n a l ly small, yet ideologically significant

portion of this aid. This is testimony to the important role women play in this

s p h e re, and points to some of the gender realignments in the post-socialist pe-

riod I will examine in this art i cl e. Fo u n d ations have supported dive rse pro-

grams such as women’s leadership training, the development of computing

s kills and electronic netwo rki n g, business training and health-re l ated pro j e c t s.7

Drawing on 19 months of ethnographic fieldwork conducted between 1997-

2001, I examine the third sector from the two vantage points that my research

a ffo rded me—we l l - re s o u rced fo u n d at i o n - s p o n s o red NGOs, and prov i n c i a l

women’s groups that are on the periphery of this aid.

From Civil Society to the Third Sector

“ The dusty term, drawn from antiquated political theory, belonging to long,

obscure and justly forgotten debates, re-emerged, suddenly endowed with

a new and powerful capacity to stir enthusiasm and inspire action” ( G e l l n e r

1994:5, on the concept of “civil society”).

The promotion of the third sector in Russia has to do with the popularity of

the concept of c ivil society, wh i ch has been a crucial ideological signifier of d e-

m o c r at i z ation. The meaning of c ivil society has shifted considerab ly in the

c o u rse of the past two decades, in response to social and political ch a n ge in the

region. Here I explore these shifts in order to provide a framework through


220

which we can understand the plight of the people who “live and work” in the

third sector, in Alekseeva’s terms.

Classically defined as the sphere of public interaction between family and

s t at e, in fo rmer socialist states civil society came to mean that wh i ch was not de-

termined by the Communist Party. It reemerged in the 1980s, as Gellner so

m e m o r ab ly described, popularized by Central European intellectuals as a means

of expressing resistance to socialist states.8 As Vaclav Havel, one of the leading

Czech dissidents put it, “the various political shifts and upheavals within the

communist world all have one thing in common: the undying urge to create a

genuine civil society” (cited in Wedel 1998:85). Although they represented on-

ly limited circles, these Central European “oppositionists” and their ideas had

d i s p ro p o rt i o n ate effe c t .9 In response to their debat e s, sch o l a rs in Europe and the

U.S., of left and right, became newly persuaded by the concept of civil society.

Conservative subscribers to the “totalitarian” school took this as confirmation

of their worldview, which saw citizens inevitably resisting an oppressive state,

and interest in the concept of civil society on the right took off in the 1980s

( Fo l ey and Edwa rds 1998). Meanwh i l e, we s t e rn leftists interp reted dissident

and oppositional activity to be manifestations of a newly energized left oppo-

sition within state socialist society; it appeared to be compatible with new left

visions of participatory democracy (Ost 1990, Habermas 1989).

The democratic revolutions of 1989 appeared to confirm this and the con-

cept of civil society came into a new vogue. Civil society now signified the tri-

umph of c apitalism and collapse of the socialist altern at ive. In sch o l a rly circl e s,

the concept became something of a catchall. As Seligman puts it, “it has been

picked up in the West, used (and often misused) by writers on both the politi-

cal right and the left to legitimize their own social programs and has entered

academic discourse with a ve n geance that is somewh at disquieting” (1998:79).

The popularity of the concept of c ivil society is evidenced by the “neo-

To c q u evillian” swing amongst social scientists in the post-Cold War period.10 O n e

example is Robert Putnam’s influential work on social capital (Putnam 1995,

1993). According to Putnam, “social capital re fe rs to the fe at u res of o rga n i z at i o n

such as networks, norms and social trust that facilitate coordination and co-

operation for mutual benefit” (Putnam 1995:67). He regards social capital as a

vital ingredient for a healthy and successful democracy. Informal associations

and groups play a crucial role in his analysis by ge n e r ating social capital, wh i ch

will then percolate to the broader society, recreating the polity. In many ways,

social capital is a parallel concept to civil society; cert a i n ly it info rms those

who fund and promote civil society development in postsocialist stat e s. Analy s t s

221

JULIE HEMMENT

have represented the creation of a civil society in post-socialist states as an es-

sential part of “ c at ching up” with an idealized West and of “ re c ove ry” (Hab e rm a s

1990). In the immediate post-Cold War period, sch o l a rs of d e m o c r atic transitions

came to rega rd civil society as a key ingredient of d e m o c r at i z ation, with its con-

stituent component of social capital.11 In these discussions, a strong causal re-

l ationship is posited between civil society and democracy—the more civ i l

society, the more democratic a society is presumed to be.

But this was not just an arcane debate; in the 1990s, the concept of c ivil so-

ciety became central to a new vision of development, a “New Policy Agenda”

( Robinson 1993) that was “driven by beliefs organized around the twin poles of

neo-liberal economics and liberal democratic theory” (Hulme and Edwa rd s

1997:4). According to this formulation, which was shared and upheld by most

international lending agencies including the World Bank, civil society develop-

ment is essential to the development of markets.12 Thus it was that in former

socialist states, civil society became a project, something to be implemented

(Sampson 2001). Civil society was “central to western aid programs in Eastern

Europe, linked intimately to privatization aid” (Hann and Dunn 1996:9).13 In

Russia, civil society promotion finds material expression in the project to build

a third sector. As I have explained, donor agencies have channeled a gre at deal

o f s u p p o rt to associations and gro u p s, and have encouraged them to believe in

the importance of their wo rk. As one American political scientist put it, (writing

in Surviving Together, an English language journal that documents and maps

postsocialist NGO activity) “the new metaphor is society as a thre e - l egged stool—

m a rket sector, public sector and civil sector.” All three have to be in balance and

the third sector “should be an equal player with the market and government”

(Rifkin 1997:8).

Indeed, donor support has led to the pro l i fe r ation of NGOs in Ru s s i a ;1 4 i n

m a ny ways this funding looks like a success story. My argument here is that this

n ew ve rsion of c ivil society is quite diffe rent from wh at activists desired and

wh at donor agencies promised. In the 1980s, civil society indexed the hopes

and ideals for a post-Cold War era: boundary l e s s n e s s, joining Euro p e. The civ-

il society that dissidents ye a rned for was a realm of citizen empowe rment, of

discussion and debat e. The third sector is a far cry from this vision. Despite the

fo l ks y, gr a s s roots fl avor of mu ch of its promotional literat u re and talk of e m-

p owe rment, charity and voluntarism, the actually existing third sector is a

p ro fessionalized realm of N G O s, inaccessible to most local gro u p s. Furt h e r,

the third sector takes on more than its global proponents and local part i c i p a n t s

h ave bargained fo r. In the third sector, NGOs are encouraged to become serv-


222

ice prov i d e rs, taking on the responsibilities of the fo rmer socialist stat e. Indeed,

in recognition of similar phenomena wo rl dw i d e, recent sch o l a rship critiques

the civil society concept as a primarily rhetorical device for democracy’s mis-

s i o n a ry wo rk (Comaro ff 2001, Hardt 2000, Mandel 2002), a device that simu l-

t a n e o u s ly rationalizes structural adjustment policies and fa c i l i t ates the cutting

b a ck of s t ate social provisioning (Alvarez, Dag n i n o, and Escobar 1998; Fo l ey

and Edwa rds 1996).

Despite this new critical turn in sch o l a rs h i p, donor agencies remain and de-

velopment discourses continue to perc o l ate in fo rmer socialist contex t s. “Third

sector” remains a crucial signifier that activists have to engage, since collabo-

r ation with donor agencies means taking on the models and concepts they

promote. Contributing to recent studies in the anthropology of postsocialism,

I push the critique of NGOs to pose a series of questions about this process of

engagement. What sense do activists make of injunctions to engage in chari-

table or voluntary activity in the context of massive societal upheaval, the col-

lapse of social safety nets and former certainties? How do they navigate these

c i rc u l ating and clashing values and discourses in their wo rk? Wh at does the third

sector look like on the ground and what scope for citizen empowerment does

it afford its participants? Attention to the “gaps, slippages and difference be-

t ween ideas that purp o rt to be the same” in this project (Gal and Kligman

2000:93) can tell us a great deal. In this next section, I address these questions

by examining the third sector ethnographically.

Third Sector Entrepreneurs

Critical observe rs wo rking in dive rse postsocialist settings have incre a s i n gly por-

trayed the third sector as hierarchical and jealous of its assets, a site where

Soviet era elites thrive (Abramson 1999, Mandel 2002, Richter 1999, Sampson

1996, Wedel 1998). It is often the case that those who most comfo rt ab ly use the

language of the third sector are sitting very securely on Rifkin’s “three-legged

stool,” those who are invested in all three sectors (business and stat e, as well as

the “non-gove rnmental” sector). My re s e a rch shows that in the Ru s s i a n

p rov i n c e s, the third sector is often the pro p e rty of old elites, the Soviet n o m e n-

k l at u r a. Quick to recognize its leg i t i m ating potential, they we re able to make a

n e at sidestep from state or party stru c t u res to colonize non-gove rn m e n t a l

space. My first ethnographic case illuminates this phenomenon.

The Humanitarian Institute is a provincial third sector support unit located

in one of the cities wh e re my re s e a rch was based. I learned of its existence fro m

women activists of my aquaintance soon after arr iving in the city. It is reg i s t e re d

223

JULIE HEMMENT

as a societal (o b s h ch e s t ve n n a i a) orga n i z ation, but has re c e ived support from the

city administration, and is situated in spacious, well-located offices in the cen-

ter of t own. Since the mid-1990s, it has been the recipient of s everal large

gr a n t s, from fo u n d ations such as TACIS (the EU pro gram of Te chnical Assistance

to the CIS) and Eurasia. When I visited the institute, I found it was striki n gly we l l

equipped for its provincial circumstances. It has several computers, printers, a

Xerox machine (all of which are conspicuously lacking in the offices of the lo-

cal newspaper, situated one floor up) and a permanent staff of seven people.

Its raison d’etre is to strengthen the local non-commercial sector, both by run-

ning trainings and seminars for members of local NGOs, and by lobbying the lo-

cal administration for support. Depending on the terms of the grant it is wo rki n g

under, seminars can be one or two day events, or can be ongoing over a series

of weeks; I attended several of these in 1997.

The Institute claims a gre at deal of s u c c e s s. According to the deputy di-

re c t o r, rep re s e n t at ives of over 200 of the 450 locally reg i s t e red societal or-

ga n i z ations have used its fa c i l i t i e s, in the context of some kind of c o n s u l t at i o n .

The institute claims to have been behind the recent establishment of s p e c i a l

n o n - p rofits adv i s o ry dep a rtments at the Mayo r ’s office and in the oblast ad-

m i n i s t r ation. Cert a i n ly it is true that its activity has raised the profile of n o n -

gove rnmental activity and introduced the term “third sector” into the

vo c abularies of local journ a l i s t s, politicians and off i c i a l s. During the period I

was in the city, the institute organized a fair of n o n - gove rnmental orga n i z a-

t i o n s, in wh i ch about 40 orga n i z ations took part and to wh i ch journ a l i s t s

and rep re s e n t at ives of the local administration we re invited. I dropped in on

the fa i r, wh i ch was a busy hubbub of people snacking on sandw i ches and

d r i n king wine. About 20 orga n i z at i o n s, including the bookl ove rs cl u b, a shel-

ter for the homeless, a ch i l d re n’s after- s chool project and an orga n i z ation fo r

people in wh e e l ch a i rs, had made and submitted display s, wh i ch consisted of

p h o t o gr ap h s, posters and ch a rts detailing their activ i t i e s. Rep re s e n t at ives of

these orga n i z ations stood pro u d ly next to them, and at the end of the day,

one exhibit was announced prizewinner (the prize, awa rded to a child de-

velopment center, was a camera to document fu rther group activity). The di-

re c t o rs, Lydia and Pavel Kharkov stood hobnobbing with the most import a n t

p e o p l e, and introducing the people who stood around, encouraging a kind of

n e t wo rki n g. The institute was sure ly doing all that it was supposed to do. Ye t

it was contentious in the city, and many societal groups re fused to attend its

a c t ivities and seminars. I became fa s c i n ated by this ap p a rent paradox and de-

t e rmined to find out why.


224

I discovered that contra the western association of “third sector” with un-

contaminated non-state space, the institute is perceived not to be neutral, but

to exist square ly in elite hands. The dire c t o rs of the Institute are a husband and

w i fe team who command significant clout locally. Lydia had been an active ko m-

somolka;15 her husband Pavel was the former director of the Marxist-Leninist

Institute, the municipal ideological center of the Communist Party, which was

responsible for the dissemination of party propaganda and the preparation of

p a rty cadre s. In 1992, wh at was once “Marxist-Leninist” became “Humanitarian,”

and the institute was swiftly privatized, to undertake a variety of new civil-so-

ciety friendly pro j e c t s, including the dissemination of t h i rd sector mat e r i a l .

Research confirms that this move is typical of many non-commercial endeav-

o rs. Just as they have made easy transitions into business, those who thrived un-

der the old state socialist regimes have proven to be adept at mastering the

symbolic order of NGOs and projects (Sampson 1996). This trend has been

compounded by the policy of m a ny fo u n d at i o n s, wh i ch have specifically sought

to send members of the local and regional administrat ive elites ab road on

training sch e m e s. Lydia is a gr a d u ate of the Johns Hopkins Third Sector

“ E n ablement Training” pro gram, wh e re she spent several months, coming

home with a diploma and a host of useful acquaintances with other NGO pro-

fe s s i o n a l s, wh i ch in turn fa c i l i t ated the netwo rking back home that won the sup-

port of Moscow based foundations.

At a time of scarce resources, her success rankled. The generous office fa-

cilities, the staff and the opportunity to travel and study abroad were beyond

the grasp and dreams of most local people. These resources combined with

Lydia’s careless sense of entitlement exasperated impoverished activists, who

s aw themselves doing the ve ry community-based wo rk in whose name the

center existed. My activist friends who grumbled about her institute saw this ac-

tivity as evidence of business as usual, where those who have get more. To

them, the “third sector” was just another domain, a new empire over which

people like Lydia could rule.

In my re s e a rch, I came across several examples of this phenomenon, wh e re

those who had made it into the wo rld of grants and projects we re rega rded with

jealousy and mistrust by members of organizations outside the loop of inter-

n ational fu n d i n g. These skeptics we re highly dubious about the new science of

the third sector peddled by firmly entrenched elites, regarding it as a new and

self-serving ideology. As one of my informants said of Lydia, “although (she)

s p e a ks about ch a r i t y, wh at she’s re a l ly doing is taking care of h e rs e l f. It’s a new

way to build a career and create a job for herself.” Third sector practitioners

225

JULIE HEMMENT

commonly position themselves as an avant-garde, progressives of the new or-

der, pitched against backward looking state bureaucrats and self-seeking busi-

nessmen. They invite trainees into this framing also, as I found out when I

attended some of the institute’s seminars. Indeed, Lydia was given to making

grandiose pronouncements about her activ i t y. At the founding meeting of a new

o b l a s t - l evel societal orga n i z ation, to wh i ch she had been invited as a “leader of

the non-commercial sector,” we chatted and she told me that the work of the

Institute was “tru ly revo l u t i o n a ry. ”1 6 Comments such as these helped me to

u n d e rstand the negat ive reaction she elicited in local activ i s t s. In her new-

found third sector ex p e rt i s e, Lydia was widely perc e ived to be behaving with the

same didacticism that characterized her former komsomol work. In all senses

then, the “new” that Lyd i a ’s third sector supposedly rep resents is outweighed by

the “old” in people’s perceptions.

I collected similar accounts about other provincial centers. I spoke with a

j o u rnalist, Lena, who wo rks in the same building as a third sector support cen-

ter. She and other colleagues used to join staff of the center during their tea

break, until she grew tired of hearing their triumphant narratives about the

t h i rd sector and wh at it rep resented. Lena recounted, hilariously, how members

o f the center would lecture the impoverished editorial collective about the ne-

cessity to win gr a n t s, to make ap p l i c at i o n s. Lena perc e ived this to be fo rm ove r

substance, a transparent vehicle for self-advancement and self-promotion. As

she put it, “The center wo rks only for itself…the one thing they know how to do

is write grant applications.” This skeptical take on third sector activity parallels

i n t e l l i gentsia constructions of the Soviet division of l ab o r, wh e re by cap ab l e

specialists we re fo rced to wo rk under the didactic instruction of b u re a u c r ats and

party workers who make up and enforce unnecessary rules. Informants who

were not aligned with the third sector had a stock of tales to recount about its

absurd manifestations, and in the course of my research, I heard numerous

i ronic commentaries about the new ly-minted skills and technologies of t h e

t h i rd sector, the glossy cert i f i c ates that are issued to participants of training pro-

grams and workshops, and those who are captivated by them and relate to

them without iro ny. These we re groups wh i ch would announce, pro claim, and

use third sector terminologies with abandon, in ways that defied comprehen-

sion, adve rtising themselves and the services they purp o rted to prov i d e, and tak-

ing up considerable space in the local papers.

Some of my info rmants told me they we re disenchanted with the Humanitarian

Institute because it contradicted its own cl a i m s. Although it adve rtised itself as a

regional re s o u rce center for the non-commercial sector, it was not tru ly open.


226

Irina, the director of a small wo m e n’s group told me that she was always put off

when she called, either by being told to call back, or to make an appointment. This

o ffended her because it contravened local norms of polite behav i o r, and because

it contradicted the center’s own claims to openness. Indeed, from talking to Lyd i a

and her staff, I learned that training sessions and seminars we re av a i l able only to

m e m b e rs of o ff i c i a l ly reg i s t e red orga n i z at i o n s, sometimes only on a competitive

b a s i s. This pre cluded the part i c i p ation of i n t e rested pers o n s, or groups that had not

yet, or did not wish to fo rmalize by registering with the stat e. Cru c i a l ly, there wa s

a perc eption that info rm ation intended for local groups was actually withheld

f rom them. In the course of my fieldwo rk, I heard nu m e rous accounts of Lyd i a ’s

u nwillingness to distribute her re s o u rc e s, and one story that circ u l ated was that one

o f her frequent attendees had consulted with someone to ask, “Is it possible to ap-

p ly for a grant without Lydia Viktorovna?” Contra Putnam’s assumption that social

c apital is widely accessible, the social capital that was ge n e r ated by the Institute and

its activities was perc e ived to be concentrated in her hands.

Wh at to make of the Humanitarian Institute and this contention? On one lev-

el, this example illustrates the complex ways in wh i ch the third sector re i n fo rc e s

old networks and hierarchies and enables the reproduction of old dependen-

cies (Bruno, 1998, Mandel 2002, Sampson 1996, Wedel 1998). My account also

shows that the third sector reproduces what Verdery has called “socialist pa-

ternalism” (1996:24), where old elites prosper and regular folks are kept busy

guessing at the logic of their power (Berdahl 1999).1 7 But my point is neither to

denounce the institute, nor to imply as my informants did that it signaled no

change. From participant observation (attending seminars, speaking with oth-

er participants), I can assert that the center large ly did wh at it was supposed to

d o, disseminating third sector literat u re and running seminars to the extent that

granting agencies re q u i red. Contention about the Humanitarian Institute at t e s t s

to local awa reness of the contradiction between the third sector ideal and its so-

cial re a l i t y. They knew that unless a group was already well re s o u rced and con-

nected and had a material base from wh i ch to launch community initiat ives and

grant applications, it was unlikely to succeed. Rather than condemn the mes-

sage however, local activists condemned the messenger. Their third sector cri-

tique was highly personalized, focusing on Lydia and the symbolic and mat e r i a l

resources she had been able to accrue.

Despite this, I found that the idea of the third sector continued to appeal to

m a ny of my info rm a n t s. The kind of women most commonly drawn to info rm a l

a s s o c i ational activity in the 1990s we re teach e rs, doctors, engineers, highly ed-

u c ated women who we re not of the party stat e, but who had considerable cul-

227

JULIE HEMMENT

tural capital in the old reg i m e. Invested in the ki t chen discussions and debat e s

o f t h e p e re s t ro i kaperiod, these people had gre at hopes for political re fo rm, but

found themselves devalued and shut out from the new sources of economic and

symbolic capital in the new democratic Russia. Vo l u n t a ry or societal wo rk offe re d

them a way to re c o u p. The model of the third sector appealed to them, because

it aff i rms this info rmal activity; according to the model of the third sector, com-

munity gro u p s, associat i o n s, and clubs are integral to the wo rkings of a healthy

s o c i e t y. Wh at is more, in comparison with the other two spheres—business and

politics—the third sector is a righteous location. The market and fo rmal politics

we re widely rega rded as dirt y, but also as masculine domains, as I have alre a d y

explained. In contrast, in these constructions the non-gove rnmental sphere wa s

seen to be decent, moral, and in this way peculiarly fe m i n i n e. In sum, it made

a more palat able location for women such as Katia.

Katia and the Chekhovian Third Sector

Katia is a fo rmer unive rsity teacher in a provincial town near St. Pe t e rs b u rg, and

an avid consumer of the third sector message. She is now off i c i a l ly unem-

p l oyed, having quit her job when the unive rsity dep a rtment she wo rked for wa s

unable to pay her salary. Thanks to her husband’s modest, but steady income,

she has been able to manage by taking on a variety of i n fo rmal jobs. Howeve r,

she retains a sense of bitter disappointment. Losing her job and the social sta-

tus that went with it was a gre at personal blow and she experienced an intense

sense of demotion. Like many unemployed (or fo rm a l ly employed but unpaid)

women with higher education, Katia began to part i c i p ate in meetings of s eve r a l

local societal organizations (obshchestvennye organizatsii). She became a regu-

lar participant of the various workshops and seminars on women’s non-gov-

ernmental activity that were held locally. In the course of these activities, she

had amassed an impre s s ive library of t h i rd sector materials —bro ch u re s, hand-

outs and books, including Olga Alekseeva’s Charity for Beginners. When I met

her, she was talking of setting up her own women’s organization, a center that

would provide support and advice to unemployed women. She told me that she

k n ew of m a ny women like hers e l f who had energy and enthusiasm to bring to

social projects, indeed she said she had already pulled together a loose group

from her former workplace.

She told me that she had first learned about the “third sector” when a library

fo u n d ation came to the city and gave a seminar. “We didn’t know wh at it wa s, ”

she recalled, “it’s a new sector of l i fe.” Explaining its re l ationship to prior, Sov i e t

era forms of organization, she told me,


228

“ E ve ryone thought that the term o b s h ch e s t vennaia rab o t a ( vo l u n t a ry so-

cietal wo rk) was no longer meaningful, because in fo rmer times it signified

p r i m a r i ly part y, Ko m s o m o l or union wo rk. And there was a strong ele-

ment of o b l i gation associated with it, it bare ly diffe red from state wo rk ,

and in general it was too fo rmalized. That’s why I don’t like to use this

t e rm. It has a lot of b aggage, … t h at’s why I have re fo rmu l ated it for my s e l f.

I’m dividing up a new sphere of a c t ivity for my s e l f. It’s ve ry interesting fo r

m e, ve ry meaningful, and I see my s e l f as a new pro fessional in this are a .

I see it to be quite a re s p o n s i b i l i t y. It’s practically a new pro fe s s i o n . ”

Here, Katia refers to the deep mistrust of collective action that is the legacy

o f the Soviet period. As she sugge s t s, the notion of o b s h ch e s t vennaia rabota ( s o-

cietal wo rk) is compromised by its Soviet associat i o n .1 8 For her, the third sector

provides a new way to reclaim, or to rehabilitate voluntary societal work.

In the course of our acquaintance, we met fre q u e n t ly—in her tiny fl at, or in

the unive rsity library—to discuss local non-gove rnmental developments and the

t h i rd sector. I was interested in learning more about the wo m e n’s group she in-

tended to set up. I never met any of her purported collaborators, but she was

a wo n d e r ful source of local info rm ation and I was fa s c i n ated by her enthusiastic

involvement in this world. What always struck me in her accounts was the in-

tense sense making process that she underwent and was still undergoing at the

time of our conversations. I ultimately came to realize that I was an important

interlocutor for her, that my interest in her greatly stimulated her telling. For

Katia, “third sector” seemed to represent all that was good about civilized hu-

man nature. On one occasion, she astonished me by saying that “Chekhov was

a man of the third sector.” Lat e r, in the course of an interv i ew, I asked her to ex-

plain what she meant:

“ I t’s a matter of ch a r a c t e r, that determines wh e re a person chooses to

put his energies—in business, bure a u c r a cy, the stat e, or the third sector.

Wh at does it depend on? On old culture. There we re pro b ab ly people of

this type even in Soviet times. Not to call it third sector, we never had

s u ch a sphere, but these we re ex a c t ly the type of people who today

would be people of the third sector because of their ch a r a c t e r. They

a re socially oriented, unselfish, accomplished…. We can take Chekhov as

a part i c u l a rly indicat ive person in this light…. I think it is possible to say

t h at people by their ve ry make-up can be in one way or the other ma-

terial for the third sector. ”

229

JULIE HEMMENT

She continued, “I told you, I have a ve ry interesting friend who wo rks at

the unive rs i t y. She is in ch a rge of students’ practice teaching sessions in

s ch o o l s. The wo rd “third sector” never passed her lips; she’s not inter-

ested in it as I am, because she’s too busy. But by her ve ry make-up and

a c t iv i t y, by her selfl e s s n e s s, by the amount she puts into her wo rk — n o-

body pays her money for it, she does it totally altru i s t i c a l ly—she is for me

a kind of i d e a l . ”

H e re Katia ap p ro p r i ates wh at she considers to be the best aspects of Ru s s i a n

c u l t u re and society in the name of the third sector. For Katia as for Olga

A l e ks e eva, it is a place wh e re the best social instincts can meet and pull toge t h e r

to make a diffe re n c e, a site of moral and enlightened citizens’ activ i t y. Howeve r,

u n l i ke Olga Aleks e eva, who ap p e a rs to be add ressing the public in ge n e r a l ,

Kat i a ’s narr at ive ex p resses a gre at deal about her opinion of the correct role of

a certain strata of s o c i e t y, the intellige n t s i a .1 9 For Katia, the best social instincts

a re located in the best of s o c i e t y. Hers is not a vision of regular fo l ks (the “gr a s s-

roots” in NGO-speak) pulling toge t h e r. Rat h e r, hers is a vision of an enlightened

few acting as example and inspiration for others to follow, of an elite acting in

the name of the people (narod).20 Thus, the moralizing dimension of third sec-

tor discourse was appealing to her. Katia’s narrative and reclaiming of the cat-

egory intelligentsia illustrates the negotiations between past and present that

characterize post-socialist society (Burawoy and Ve rd e ry 1999, Grant 1999).

U n l i ke Aleks e eva, she does not emphasize the newness of the third sector.

Rather, she uses “third sector” to reaffirm a set of values, an orientation that is

widely perceived to be anachronistic. What is more, her interpretation of the

third sector enables her to neutralize the fearful uncertainty of the present. In

invoking Chekhov, she summons up a timeless vision of Russian culture, ac-

cording to which people like her have a secure role.

But beyond this, the third sector perfo rmed a kind of s t ructuring role aro u n d

wh i ch she had built a new life and ro u t i n e. Katia re a l ly l ive d the third sector. In

a ddition to attending seminars and trainings, she was engaged in an almost dai-

ly round of visits to friends and acquaintances, wh e rein she discussed the third

sector and its local manifestations and told them about the group she wanted

to set up. These were rituals that assisted her in the creation of a new life. Our

conversations fit the same category. She associated me, a British woman, with

the third sector (despite my protestations that I understood it no better than

she). After recounting her latest thoughts and updating me about the activ i t i e s

o f other local orga n i z ations we both knew, she would quiz me, asking questions


230

s u ch as, “Is that how the third sector should be? Is this the re a l place of the third

sector?” I came to understand that she was asking for my assistance in her

project and for a while we discussed the potential for collaboration.

Katia took it upon herself to educate those who were unaware of the third

sector about its role and import a n c e. As she got bolder, she began to make vis-

its to people who were on the periphery of her circle, men and women she

knew only tangentially, but who held responsible positions in the local munic-

ipal administration. She would drop in at their wo rkplaces to ch at, her visits thus

assuming a semi-formal character. As an academic, her accounts were often

quite theoretical and elab o r at e. One day over tea in her ap a rtment she re-

galed me with the tale of one such meeting with a lower level official, where-

in she had dazzled her interlocutor. The woman in question was impressed by

her account and had pledged her support to Lydia and her project. Flushed with

the memory of her victory, she told me, “I would never have dared speak to

such people before I became involved in the third sector!” It was clear to me

t h at each visit and each conve rs ation rep resented a fu rther step in her new ca-

re e r, and was part of the process of building up a third sector port fo l i o. In so do-

i n g, she ach i eved a crucial transfo rm ation within hers e l f, from an unemploye d

middle-aged woman, to a trailblazer of the third sector.

Although Katia cert a i n ly lived the third sector, it cannot tru t h fu l ly be said that

she wo rked in it. Re l ations with donor agencies remained beyond her grasp and

she never founded her non-gove rnmental wo m e n’s gro u p. My point however is

not that she was duped by the third sector message; although she never won

grants, Katia certainly derived benefits. First, “third sector” was a kind of plan,

a framework around which she made sense of the ruptures and change in her

l i fe; it enabled her to make sense of her losses and to regain self-re s p e c t .

Second, she was ultimately able to convert the moral capital she had generat-

ed into a more material fo rm of p owe r: on the basis of her third sector port fo l i o,

her fo rmal qualifications and employment history, she was ultimat e ly ap-

pointed director of a newly founded, government funded Center for Women

and Families in 1999. Her ap p ro p r i ation of the third sector assisted her in a ki n d

o f n e t wo rking that eve n t u a l ly landed her a job. This seemingly unex p e c t e d

outcome unders c o res the significance of wh at third sector literat u re tends to ig-

nore—the material vulnerability and hence limited choices of many of those

who engage in associational activity.

231

JULIE HEMMENT

Ambivalent Insiders

In my final ethnographic section, I examine the third sector from the perspec-

tive of some of my most interesting interlocutors—feminist activists who have

wo rked with fo u n d ations since they first set up in Russia. Highly educat e d ,

we s t e rn-oriented feminist groups found themselves part i c u l a rly well positioned

to take adv a n t age of these early collab o r at i o n s. Their members fre q u e n t ly

knew foreign languages; some had traveled to Western Europe or the U.S. and

were thus quick to find a common language with the representatives of donor

age n c i e s. Women such as these we re initially enthusiastic to wo rk with we s t e rn -

identified foundations. Their goals of democratization and civil society devel-

opment seemed to be in tune with the ideals and aspirations that bro u g h t

them to non-gove rnmental activ i t y. Howeve r, the reality they have encoun-

tered has proven to be rather different than the promise. These women were

m o t iv ated by the spirit of the 1980s civil society debat e s, their activism was driv-

en by the desire to establish new, non-hierarchical forms of social relations.

Collaboration with donor agencies led them to formalize, register and profes-

sionalize their formerly loose clubs and groups, transforming their activism in

troubling ways. Now NGO professionals, they felt sharp disappointment at the

t h i rd sector, at the same time as they re aped its considerable rewa rds (good pay,

travel, professional status). Their work directly engaged the riddle of the third

sector and I found them to be some of its most sophisticated theorists.21

Maria is a veteran activist of the Independent Russian Women’s Movement.

She first became active in women’s groups in the late 1980s, when a feminist

discussion group set up in her institute. It was made up of women who were

both excited about the potential for reform, and concerned with the process-

es of socio-economic ch a n ge and their impact on women. She attended the firs t

fo rum of the independent wo m e n’s movement at Dubna in 1991 and wa s

present when the movement received its first financial support from interna-

tional age n c i e s.2 2 Since the mid-1990s she has wo rked for one of the main

women’s coalition organizations in Moscow and hence, with most of the foun-

dations that are active in Russia. I got to know her during the Moscow-based

phase of my fieldwo rk, when I wo rked as a volunteer in her off i c e, assisting with

t r a n s l ation from English and editing the English language texts they produced.

Maria’s work entailed the dissemination of information and the occasional

distribution of grant monies to other wo m e n’s orga n i z at i o n s. A good pro p o rt i o n

o f her wo rk invo l ved sitting at her computer in her Moscow off i c e, sifting

through the various electronic bulletins from international women’s organiza-

tions and selecting materials to translate and disseminate to groups in the re-


232

g i o n s. She was fre q u e n t ly baffled by the kinds of issues raised, and occasionally

asked me to assist her in translating some of the key terms that would pop up

( s u ch as “sustainab i l i t y,” “gr a s s ro o t s,” “gender mainstreaming”). One day, as

we sat together at her computer she turned to me with a grimace, “I have a

Masters degree and I know two languages, but I live in a two room apartment

with my two sons, husband and mother-in-law and have no hot water. Am I a

gr a s s roots woman?” This term, wh i ch she associated with rural, third wo rl d

c o n t ex t s, did not seem ap p ro p r i ate to Russia or to her life.2 3 We would laugh hi-

l a r i o u s ly at some of the mismat ches between the rhetoric of t r a n s n at i o n a l

campaigns and of foundation mandates and Russian reality, and on occasion I

assured her that some of the project speak was incomprehensible to native

s p e a ke rs of E n glish, too. She was familiar with the guiding principles of the de-

velopment industry, knew them far better than I, and would tell me about the

latest trends as she understood them, particularly after her trips abroad to at-

tend meetings of international NGOs.

At the same time as she had mastered the rhetoric, however, she was un-

c o m fo rt able with her role and fru s t r ated with the exe rcise of t r a n s l ation. Her job

re q u i red her to be deft in learning key wo rds and concep t s, to pick them up, ap-

ply them in grant applications and explain them to other women activists in

s e m i n a rs. Howeve r, she was skeptical about their utility and ap p l i c ab i l i t y.

Through our acquaintance, she had developed a fascination with cultural an-

thropology, and on one occasion she told me that she felt like an anthropolo-

gist, trying to find her way around in this new field. Through her narratives, I

got a sense of the ch a n ges that the wo m e n’s movement had experienced in the

course of the last decade. She was uneasily aware of the gulf that had opened

up between hers e l f and her colleagues and local wo m e n’s gro u p s. While she sat

in a comfo rt ab l e, well-equipped office and drew a hard curre n cy salary, her col-

leagues in the provinces struggled to meet local problems with a chronic lack

of resources. Disparities such as these had led to a breakdown of solidarities

within the women’s movement. Once when I asked her about her relationship

with regional affiliates, she replied, thoughtfully, “Basically it’s good, but I re-

ceive a salary and they don’t. I swing between a guilt complex and being con-

fident in what I am doing.”

In the course of our conve rs at i o n s, I listened to her stru ggle between the two

identifications that her work entailed—women’s movement activist and third

sector wo rke r. They we re fre q u e n t ly in conflict. She had come to feminism and

the women’s movement out of a commitment to egalitarian, non-hierarchical

relations between women. She was nostalgic for the earlier phase of women’s

233

JULIE HEMMENT

organizing before foundations arrived and began to provide resources for this

activity. It was a time of easy exchanges, she told me, when women were will-

ing to travel to other cities to lead seminars, to attend group meetings, “to get

to know each other, not as ‘trainers’, or ‘big sisters’, but as equals.” As other civ i c

a c t ivists of the time, she had been inspired by the idea of c ivil society, the

c at ch wo rd of p e re s t ro i ka-era associational activ i t y, yet she was disappointed by

the civil society of NGOs that had been brought into being by intern ational age n-

c i e s. In her wo rk at the center she found hers e l f e n gaged in a bure a u c r atic and

constrained type of activism that was shot through with new hierarchies. In

essence she had become a gatekeeper of third sector resources. During my bi-

weekly visits to her office I had numerous occasions to pursue this topic with

Maria and her co-wo rke rs. As we sat drinking tea and eating cooki e s, or the fru i t

that they brought from their dachas (country houses), I asked them what they

thought about civil society and the third sector. I found these women stru ggl i n g

to make sense of their new env i ronment, puzzling to understand the role of t h e

t h i rd sector and its implicat i o n s, and to figure out the often-contradictory ro l e s

that foundations played. They told me that although foundations were osten-

sibly committed to ideals they shared, their policies frequently undercut these

i d e a l s. Some of the women said they we re disturbed and fru s t r ated by the fa c t

t h at agendas we re set outside, in Washington. They commented on the fact that

issues such as domestic violence and traff i cking became “fa s h i o n ab l e,” re-

gardless of what was happening on the ground, and how their ability to main-

tain themselves depended upon keeping abreast of international currents.24

In June 1998, I attended a training seminar at the center designed to assist

p rovincial wo m e n’s groups in their interactions with fo u n d at i o n s. The at t e n d e e s

were the representatives of small organizations that mostly had a service ori-

e n t ation—crisis centers, wo m e n’s info rm ation centers, re s o u rce centers. Maria

and her colleagues fa c i l i t ated the seminar, coaching the provincial women rep-

re s e n t at ives in the technologies of o rga n i z ational development (to write gr a n t s,

keep accounts, write reports). Watching them, I could see that they were clear-

ly invested in wh at they we re doing and sincere ly wanted to support these

fl e d gling orga n i z at i o n s. Yet behind the scenes, I heard them question the term s

and concepts that guided their activ i t i e s. As Maria said to me “sometimes I

think that it’s just an economic game! We will never be able to figure out the

aims of the foundations, what drives their policy.” She continued, “Maybe the

t h i rd sector and non-gove rnmental sphere are just a load of ru bbish? Wh at’s the

difference between this and business? We all pretend we know what the third

sector is, and wh e re we are go i n g, but maybe it’s not true! Maybe this is just pro-


234

fessionalization! All we have is speculation, slogans—like civil society! What is

it? Why is it any different from business?”

In the course of our acquaintance, I witnessed Maria seesaw between these po-

s i t i o n s. She was still moved by the language of c ivil society and cap t iv ated by its

p romise at the same time she was troubled by its social re a l i t y. In late spring 1998

I met with her short ly after her re t u rn from a meeting in New Yo rk (since at-

tending the UN Fo u rth Wo rld Confe rence on the Status of Women in Beijing in

1995, Maria had been ve ry active on the intern ational feminist circuit, and fre-

q u e n t ly traveled ab road to rep resent her orga n i z ation at the inv i t ation of v a r i o u s

groups). She told me she was inspired by the levels of c o o p e r ation she had wit-

nessed between NGOs of other countries, part i c u l a rly by the wo rk of an African

coalition that wo rked to find strat egies to combat structural adjustment, and

she wished that Russian NGOs could make similar alliances in order to better put

p re s s u re on the gove rnment. She told me that upon her re t u rn she had bro u g h t

this issue up with colleagues within the wo m e n’s movement, and that most of

them responded with amazement at her idealism. One woman said to her, “Wh at

a re you talking about? A grant is money and as soon as a person re c e ives mon-

ey, becomes the director of a project, she fo rgets about feminist principles!

Principles are in conflict with this activity! We can’t live on values! While I have no

m o n ey, it doesn’t matter wh at I do, nobody hears me. It’s only when we have a

b u d get that people start to respect us.” They pooh-poohed her suggestion that al-

liances should be fo rmed on the basis of t rust, say i n g, “Trust? Trust in wh at? We

need to be pro fessionals!” She added, thoughtfu l ly, “it’s difficult to argue with their

point of v i ew. . . D e m o c r a cy—is just a slogan! In Russia the wo rd is discredited, is

t a ken to mean a free for all, the freedom to do wh at you like without any obli-

gations or re s p o n s i b i l i t y. Even politicians bare ly use the wo rd any more.” This com-

ment testifies to the fact that despite the supposed complementarity of the thre e

s e c t o rs as port r ayed in the literat u re, in Russia, both business and gove rnment re-

main skeptical of n o n - gove rnmental activ i t y. Global fo u n d ations remain the on-

ly allies of o rga n i z ations such as these.

In sum this last portrait confirms some of wh at we saw in the Humanitarian

Instituted. Fo u n d ation support to wo m e n’s groups has given rise to a small

and elite stratum of NGO professionals or career feminists. Those who put out

the literature, control the technology and “live on grants” are increasingly dis-

tant from the societal orga n i z ations in whose name they speak. Meanwh i l e, the

vast majority of women’s groups (local groups that set up with more concrete

local objectives) find themselves stru ggling to meet local needs without the

s u p p o rt of either state or donor age n c i e s. Wh at is more, these pro fe s s i o n a l

235

JULIE HEMMENT

wo m e n’s groups (as other fo u n d at i o n - s u p p o rted NGOs) are complicit with a

n ew and disturbing division of l ab o r: as we have seen in the earlier part of t h i s

ch ap t e r, the third sector model encourages community groups into serv i c e

provision. Societal organizations, most frequently run by women, thus end up

fulfilling some of the socialist stat e’s fo rmer fu n c t i o n s. They provide social serv-

ices that the crumbling state sector is no longer able to prov i d e, stopping up the

gaps of the radical free market. In effect, this amounts to a re - t r a d i t i o n a l i z at i o n

o f wo m e n’s ro l e s. Maria was acutely awa re of t h i s. She spoke about women be-

ing “used up” by their invo l vement in this sphere, “my heart aches when I

think of h ow many excellent women I know who wo rk in the third sector are ill.

It takes such a lot from you, there is such uncertainty, we all get ill after a few

years.” She longed to quit her own job saying that it was in contradiction with

the circumstances of her own life, it demanded too mu ch. Her colleagues urge d

her to ke ep at it, that she had to be re s p o n s i b l e. “Ye s, I’m re s p o n s i b l e, we mu s t

be responsible, but why only us? And what about our families?”

ConclusionsIn making these ethnogr aphic juxtap o s i t i o n s, my intent has been to convey the

c o m p l i c ated effects of the project to build a third sector in Russia. Highlighting

the perspectives of three consumers of the third sector message, I have shown

t h at local actors are only too awa re of the contradictions of this project. Rat h e r

than a naturally unfurling organic entity, the civil society of the third sector in

Russia is a costly project, externally promoted and installed by international

age n cy design. Second, it is ve ry diffe rent from the civil society that activists de-

s i red and intern ational donor agencies promised, as these narr at ives show. It is

a constrained place, characterized by new hierarchies and dep e n d e n c i e s. Wh i l e

it claims to nu rt u re the local and the gr a s s ro o t s, it enables a small circle of e l i t e s

to flourish (many of whom we re agents of the old party state). Wh at is more, the

third sector that is promoted and supported by foundations introduces a mar-

ket logic and sensibility to non-gove rnmental activ i t y. Activists have been fo rc e d

to adopt an entrep reneurial idiom in order to surv ive in the wo rld of grants and

fu n d i n g, wh e re NGOs compete against each other for scarce re s o u rc e s.

Meanwhile, most community groups are outside the loop and can only dream

of involvement, or look on jealously.

My account thus part i a l ly confirms the consensus portrait drawn by critical

s ch o l a rship of p o s t - S oviet civil society, yet it also insists on the need to pay at-

tention to local interp re t at i o n s. Delving deeper into activists’ narr at ive s, a more


236

r i ch and complex story emerge s. My account shows that the third sector re-

mains compelling to local actors. To diffe rent degre e s, the activists I have pro-

filed here have all been able to imag i n at ive ly dep l oy the third sector. They have

used it to make sense of losses endured, to ge n e r ate new fo rms of symbolic and

m aterial wealth, and to make sense of some of the crucial realignments that

characterize the postsocialist era: between state and society, money and moral-

i t y. As they puzzle the third sector, they engage its contradictions and wo rk with-

in the clashing discourses and values to rethink the fo rms and logic of p o l i t i c a l

a c t ivism offe red them. The third sector then does not signal one single mode of

e n gagement. It gains new meanings and mach i n ations within local contex t s

and has signifying possibilities beyond the intent of its global pro p o n e n t s. It is

an arena of age n cy, a site wh e re global and local know l e d ge come together in

a dynamic improv i s ation that is shot through with critiques of the inequalities

a c t ivists confront. If i n t e rn ational interventions are to be improved upon, un-

d e rstanding these local interp re t ations and processes is cru c i a l .

AC K N OW L E D G E M E N T S

This art i cle is based on 19 months of e t h n o gr aphic fieldwo rk, conducted in Moscow, Tve r ’and Pskov between 1995-2001. I dedicate it with gr atitude to my friends and colleagues inrussia, part i c u l a rly Valentina, Oktiabrina, Lena, Lydia Z., Lydia G., Larisa, and Liza. I am gr at e-ful to the Cornell Graduate School, the Einaudi Center for Intern ational Studies, and theC o rnell Unive rsity Peace Studies Pro gram for financial support. This piece has benefitedf rom the fe e d b a ck of nu m e rous colleag u e s. For their helpful commentaries on this and ear-lier drafts, I am part i c u l a rly gr at e ful to John Borneman, Valerie Bunce, Shelley Fe l d m a n ,B ruce Grant, Dav ydd Gre e nwood, Drew Hemment, Aida Hoz i c, James Rich t e r, Nancy Ries,M i chele Riv ki n - Fish, Hector Sch a m i s, and Sidney Ta rrow. I would also like to thank Rich a rdG r i n ker for his encouragement of this piece and my anonymous rev i ewe rs, whose com-ments led to significant improve m e n t s.

E N D N OT E S1In the book Alekseeva explains that she has spent considerable time in the UK and claimsto have worked for ten years as a volunteer in various “charitable” projects in Russia. I takeAlekseeva to be both propagandist of the third sector and one of its believers.

2“Third sector” or “voluntary sector” research only emerged in the early 1980s, but as a vi-sion of development, it has already achieved a kind of hegemony amongst internationalagencies active in post-socialist contexts (Fo l ey and Edwa rds 1997). Some of the key centerse n gaged in third sector re s e a rch are the Intern ational Society for Third Sector Re s e a rch( h t t p : / / w w w.jhu.edu/~istr/), the Yale Pro gram on Nonprofit Orga n i z ations (PONPO), theJohns Hopkins Comparative Nonprofit Sector Project, the International Society for Third-Sector Re s e a rch at Johns Hopki n s, ARNOVA (The Association of Re s e a rch on Nonpro f i tOrganizations and Voluntary Action).

3Following anthropological conventions, I make use of pseudonyms to protect the identityof the women activists I worked with in my research.

237

JULIE HEMMENT

4The emergent critical anthro p o l o gy of NGOs and civil society has provided a valuable coun-terbalance to triumphalist accounts of the so-called transition to democracy in former so-cialist states by pointing to misallocat i o n s, distort i o n s, and the power imbalance inherent inthe encounter. In the last ye a rs, there has been a sharp sw i t ch in the zeitgeist. It has becomep o l i t i c a l ly correct to critique democrat i z ation. My concern is that this narr at ive sw i t ch couldh ave unfo rt u n ate policy outcomes, namely the cutting back of c ivil society aid, wh i ch wo u l dhave a disproportionate effect on women.

5Pe re s t r o i ka ( l i t e r a l ly, rebuilding) was instigated by General Secre t a ry Gorbach ev in 1986and lasted until the demise of the USSR in 1991.

6Contra liberal democratic civil society discours e s, democrat i z ation, and the liberalizingeconomic reforms of the early 1990s marked the demotion of women as a group in Russiaand post-socialist countries (Bridge r, Kay, and Pinnick 1996; Pilkington 1992; Watson 1997).For all the very serious flaws and contradictions of officially proclaimed equality, the statesocialist system did not relegate women to the private sphere (Verdery 1996, Gal 1997). Inthe 1990s, wo m e n’s political rep re s e n t ation dropped dramat i c a l ly, and they experienced dis-p ro p o rt i o n ate unemployment. Wh at is more, they we re especially hard hit by the cut backsin social service spending that were encouraged by international lending institutions.

7For accounts that specifically explore the impact of international aid on Russian women’sgroups, see Hemment 2000, Henderson 2003, Kay 2000, Richter 1999, Sperling 2000.

8Following Garton-Ash, I refer here to the work of Vaclav Havel, Adam Michnik and GeorgyKonrad to typify the civil society debat e s. While it would be pro b l e m atic to homogenize theirwo rk, it can be seen to share a gre at deal and these authors we re in dialogue with each oth-er. See discussions by Garton-Ash 1990, Ost 1990, Gellner 1994.

9See Wedel’s discussion of “a few favored cliques” (1998:83-120).

10For commentary on this phenomenon, see Foley and Edwards (1996, 1998). A recent edi-tion of the US J o u rnal of D e m o c r a cy, a journal that analyzes and documents the pro gress ofd e m o c r at i z ation and civil society development, was devoted to the discussion of d eTo q u ev i l l e’s wo rk and its continued re l ev a n c e. The editors conclude their introduction withthis statement, “as we enter the new millennium, one might say with little ex agge r ation, weare all Tocquevillians now!” (Journal of Democracy 11(1), January 2000:9).

1 1Fo l l owing the collapse of the socialist altern at ive, democrat i z ation was considered to be anobjective process. Studies tended to assume the existence of universal and objective indi-c at o rs (such as public opinion survey s, voting pat t e rns) that can be mapped and counted inorder to trace successes and failures.

1 2While in the early 1990s, the Bank was not interested in NGOs and development, by the lat e’90s it had an entire division devoted to it ( James 1997). In the mid-to-late ’90s, the WorldBank began to support studies that ex p l o red the re l ationship between economic liberalismand democracy (Blair 1997). According to Sarah Henderson, this trend has continued into then ew millennium; in 2002 USAID devoted 37% of its $506 million budget for democracy andgovernance to civil society initiatives worldwide. Anheier et al. estimate the NGO develop-ment field to be a $7 billion industry, with $2 billion funded by U.S. foundations (Anheier,Glasius, and Kaldor 2001, cited in Henderson 2003).

13According to Janine Wedel, US Congress devoted $36 million to support “democratic insti-tution building” in Poland and other ex - c o m munist states between 1990-91. By 1995, the UShad obligated $164 million to promote political party development, independent media, gov-e rnance and recipient NGOs (Wedel 1998:85). Meanwhile the EU and priv ate fo u n d ations al-so channeled funds to support NGOs and civil society. Sarah Henderson’s recent study ofwe s t e rn civil society aid to Russia maps these funding trajectories: in 2000 George Soros’ OpenSociety Institute-Russia channeled over $56 million to NGOs, universities and other civic or-ga n i z ations; between 1993-2001 the Eurasia Fo u n d ation allocated almost $38 million to the


238

non-profit sector; between 1991-98 the MacArthur Foundation approved over $17 millionin grants to support civic initiatives in the former Soviet Union (Henderson 2003:7).

14According to Henderson, there were over 450,000 civic groups registered in January 2001(Henderson 2003:6)

15Member of the Young Communist League.

16This language echoes third sector promotional literature; see for example (Salamon andAnheier 1997).

17As Berdahl puts it, “the interplay between above and below, between the known and theunknown, between the state and its citizens was crucial in sustaining the socialist system inEast Germany” (Berdahl 1999:46).

18During the Soviet period, obshchestvennaia rabota (societal work) signified enforced, par-t y - m a n d ated activ i t y. Each person was re q u i red to undert a ke ex t r a - c u rricular activities on be-h a l f o f t h e Ko m s o m o l ( C o m munist youth orga n i z ation) or the part y. An indiv i d u a l ’sperformance in this area influenced the distribution of perks and privileges, effecting pro-fessional advancement. This has resulted in a deep mistrust of both fo rmal and info rmal pol-itics and collective engagement in the post-socialist period.

19Much ink has been spilt on the intelligentsia, which remains a very contested category inthe Soviet period. I do not mean to assert the existence of intelligentsia as a unified, ho-m o genized gro u p, rat h e r, I use it as an emic term. In this context, it is used to re fer to thosewho identify with old cultural elites, in opposition to Soviet elites (n o m e n k l at u r a). Althoughrarely used self-descriptively in the 1990s, I found that the term was often elicited by con-ve rs ations such as these, wh e re highly educated people re flected on their personal losses andthe changes of the last decade.

2 0S p e a king in the name of the n a r o d, or moralizing on its behalf is a familiar trope ofRussian and East European cultural elites.

2 1Regre t t ab ly, their views are rare ly solicited. My interl o c u t o rs lamented the fact that they hadno time or re s o u rces to undert a ke re s e a rch into the third sector. We s t e rn funding encourage dthem to move ahead and undert a ke steps that they did not have time to ev a l u at e. They not-ed that fo u n d ations supported fo re i g n e rs to ev a l u ate and assess Russian non-gove rn m e n t a la c t iv i t y, instead of p roviding them with the means to conduct their own assessments and re-search.

2 2The first Dubna fo rum was attended by around 200 women, rep resenting 48 orga n i z at i o n sall over Russia. It brought women into contact with each other and stimu l ated interest in theemergent women’s movement. The main topic of the meeting was women’s worsening so-cio-political position in Russia, and its slogan—“Democracy minus women is no democra-cy.” It has been well documented by both foreign and Russian attendees. See for exampleM a rsh 1996 and Sperling 2000. For accounts of h ow we s t e rn aid arr ived and transfo rmed themovement, see Kay 2000, Richter 2002, Sperling 2000.

23Many women activists I spoke with made similar complaints.

2 4I examine the Russian campaigns against domestic violence and this process of t r a n s l at i o nin more detail elsewhere (Hemment 2004).

R E F E R E N C E S

Abramson, David. 1999. “A Critical Look at NGOs and Civil Society as Means to an End inUzbekistan.” Human Organization 58(3):240-250.

Alekseeva, Olga. 1996. Tretii Sektor: Blagotvoritel’nost’ dlia Chainikov. Moscow: Charities AidFoundation.

239

JULIE HEMMENT

A l v a rez, Sonia E., Evelina Dag n i n o, and Art u ro Escobar, eds. 1998. C u l t u res of Po l i t i c s, Po l i t i c so f C u l t u res: Re-visioning Latin American Social Move m e n t s. Boulder, Colorado:WestviewPress.

A n h e i e r, Helmut, Marlies Glasius, and Mary Ka l d o r. “Introducing Global Civil Society.” InGlobal Civil Society 2001, edited by H. Anheier, M. Glasius, and Mary Ka l d o r. Oxfo rd :Oxford University Press

Berdahl, Daphne. 1999. Where the World Ended: Reunification and Identity in the GermanBorderland. Berkeley, California: University of California Press.

__________. 2000. Introduction: An Anthro p o l o gy of Postsocialism. In Altering Stat e s :Ethnographies of Transition in Eastern Europe and the Former Soviet Union, edited by D.Berdahl, M. Bunzl and M. Lampland. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.

Blair, Harry. 1997. “Donors, Democratisation and Civil Society: Relating Theory to Practice.”In NGOs, States and Donors: Too Close for Comfort?, edited by D. Hulme and M. Edwards,23-43. New York: St. Martin’s Press, in association with Save the Children.

Bridger, Susan, Rebecca Kay, and Kathryn Pinnick. 1996. No More Heroines? Russia, Womenand the Market. London: Routledge.

B ru n o, M. 1998. “Playing the Co-operation Game: Strat egies around Intern ational Aid inPost-socialist Russia.” In S u rv iving post-socialism: Local strat egies and regional responses ineastern Europe and the former Soviet Union. S. Bridger and F. Pine. London, Routledge:170-187.

B u r awoy, Michael, and Katherine Ve rd e ry. 1999. “Introduction.” In U n c e rtain Tr a n s i t i o n :E t h n ogr aphies of C h a n ge in the Postsocialist Wo r l d, edited by M. Burawoy and K. Ve rd e ry.Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers.

Comaroff, Jean and John Comaroff. 2001. “Millenial Capitalism: First Thoughts on a SecondComing.” In Millenial Capitalism and the Culture of Neoliberalism, edited by J. Comaroffand J. Comaroff. Durham and London: Duke University Press.

Cook, Linda. 1993. The Soviet social contract and why it failed: we l f a re policy and wo r ke rs ’ p o l-itics from Brezhnev to Yeltsin. Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press.

Fo l ey, Michael, and Bob Edwa rd s. 1996. “The Pa r a d ox of C ivil Society.” J o u rnal of D e m o c r a cy7(3):38-52.

__________. 1998. “Civil Society and Social Capital Beyond Putnam.” American BehavioralScientist 42(1):124-139.

Gal, Susan. 1997. “Feminism and Civil Society.” In Tr a n s i t i o n s, Env i r o n m e n t s, Tr a n s l at i o n s, ed-ited by J. Scott, C. Kaplan and D. Keates. New York: Routledge.

Gal, Susan, and Gail Kligman. 2000. The Politics of Gender after Socialism. Princeton, NewJersey: Princeton University Press.

G a rton-Ash, Timothy. 1990. The Uses of A dve rsity: Esssays on the Fate of Central Europe. NewYork: Vintage Books.

G e l l n e r, Ernest. 1994. Conditions of L i b e rty: Civil Society and its Riva l s. New Yo rk: AllenLane/Penguin Press.

Grant, Bru c e. 1999. “Re t u rn of the Rep ressed: Conve rs ations with Three Ru s s i a nE n t rep re n e u rs.” In Paranoia Within Re a s o n, edited by G. Marc u s. Chicago: ChicagoUniversity Press.

H ab e rm a s, Ju rgen. 1989. The Structural Tr a n s fo rm ation of the Public Sphere. Cambridge,M.A.: MIT Press.

__________. 1990. “What Does Socialism Mean Today? The Rectifying Revolution and theNeed for New Thinking on the Left.” New Left Review 183:3-21.

Modular Modern: Shifting Forms of Collective Identity Among the Akha of Northern Thailand

240


Hann, Chris, and Elizabeth Dunn, eds. 1996. C ivil Society: Challenging We s t e rn Models. Londonand New York: Routledge.

H a rdt, Michael, Antonio Negri. 2000. E m p i re. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harv a rd Unive rs i t yPress.

Hemment, Julie. 2000. “Gender, NGOs and the Third Sector in Russia: An Ethnography ofPostsocialist Civil Society.” PhD. diss, Cornell University.

Hemment, Ju l i e. 2004. “Global Civil Society and the Local Costs of Belonging: Defining‘Violence Against Women’ in Russia.” Signs 29(3):815-840.

H e n d e rson, S. L. 2003. Building Democracy in Contemporary Russia: We s t e rn support fo rgrassroots organizations. Ithaca, NY, Cornell University Press.

H u l m e, D. and M. Edwa rd s. 1997. N G O s, States and Donors: Too Close for Comfo rt? N ewYork: St. Martin’s Press, in association with Save the Children.

James, Estelle. 1997. “Whither the Third Sector? Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow. Voluntas8(1):1-10.

Kay, Rebecca. 2000. Russian Women and their Orga n i z ations: Gender, Discrimination andGrassroots Organizations, 1991-96. Basingstoke: Macmillan Press Ltd.

Lipovskaya, Olga. 1997. “Women’s Groups in Russia.” In Post-Soviet Women: from the Balticto Central Asia, edited by M. Buckley. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Mandel, Ruth. 2002. “Seeding Civil Society.” In Postsocialism: Ideals, Ideologies and Practicesin Eurasia, edited by C. Hann. London and New York: Routledge.

Ost, David. 1990. Solidarity and the Politics of Anti-politics: Opposition and Re fo rm in Po l a n dsince 1968. Philadelphia: Temple University Press.

Pilkington, Hilary. 1992. “Whose Space is it Anyway? Youth, Gender and Civil Society in theSoviet Union.” In Women In the Face of Change, edited by S. Rai, H. Pilkington and A.Phizacklea. London: Routledge.

Putnam, Ro b e rt. 1993. Making Democracy Work: Civic Conditions in Modern Italy. Princeton:Princeton University Press.

__________. 1995. “Bowling Alone: America’s Declining Social Capital.” J o u rnal of D e m o c r a cy6(1):65-78.

Richter, James. 1999. “Citizens or Professionals? Evaluating Western Assistance to RussianWomen’s Organizations.” Report to the Carnegie Corporation.

Richter, J. 2002. “Evaluating Western Assistance to Russian Women’s Organizations.” In ThePower and Limits of N G O s. S. E. Mendelson and J. K. Glenn. New Yo rk, Columbia Unive rs i t yPress: 54-90

R i fkin, Je re my. 1997. “The Info rm ation Age and Civil Society.” S u rv iving Toge t h e r, S u m m e r: 7 -10.

Robinson, M. 1993. “Governance, Democracy and Conditionality: NGOs and the New PolicyAgenda.” In Governance, Democracy and Conditionality: What Role for NGOs? A. Clayton,ed. Oxford: INTRAC.

Salamon, Lester, and Helmut Anheier. 1997. Defining the Nonprofit Sector: A Cross-nationalanalysis. Manchester: Manchester University Press.

Sampson, Steven. 1996. “The Social Life of P rojects: Importing Civil Society to Albania.” In C iv i lSociety: Challenging We s t e rn Models, edited by C. Hann and E. Dunn. London: Ro u t l e d ge.

__________. 2001. “Supporting Civil Society through the Strengthening of Local NGOs.” Baku ,Azerbaijan: Conference on the Role of NGOs: From Refuge to Durable Solutions in theCaucasus.

241

JULIE HEMMENT

Seligman, Adam. 1998. “Between Public and Private: Towards a Sociology of Civil Society.”In D e m o c r atic Civility: The History and Cross-Cultural Possibility of a Modern Po l i t i c a lIdeal, edited by R. Hefner. New Brunswick, New Jersey: Transaction Publishers.

Sperling, Valerie. 2000. Organizing Women in Contemporary Russia: Engendering Transition.Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Verdery, Katherine. 1996. What Was Socialism, and What Comes Next? Princeton: PrincetonUniversity Press.

Watson, Peggy. 1993. “Eastern Euro p e’s Silent Revolution: Gender.” S o c i o l ogy 2 7 ( 3 ) : 4 7 1 - 4 8 7 .

__________. 1997. “Civil Society and the Politics of D i ffe rence in Eastern Euro p e.” InTransitions, Environments, Translations, edited by J. Scott, C. Kaplan and D. Keates. NewYork: Routledge.

Wedel, Ja n i n e. 1998. Collision and Collusion: The Strange Case of We s t e rn Aid to EasternEurope 1989-1998. New York: St. Martin’s Press.

The Riddle of the Third Sector: Civil Society, International Aid, and NGOs in Russia

Documents

Transcript of The Riddle of the Third Sector: Civil Society, International Aid, and NGOs in Russia