Communication, or rather lack thereof, is part of a power game. Whether we like it or not, calculations connected to power and status seem to lurk behind much of human interactions, as well as policy making (not just politics, as some might think). Not responding is a way of not cooperating, or a signal or non-cooperation. By not responding, one side essentially raises its status at the expense of the other side, at least temporarily. At a minimum, it leaves one side in a state of uncertainty as to what the silence signifies. It is a potent way of saying “I need you less than you need me.”
Silence when there normally should be an answer leaves the other party guessing, speculating as to the reason why. It can even lead to a fundamental change in the relationship, including its termination. To not answer is to break the golden rule of reciprocity. Some might do so intentionally, others unintentionally, but the effect can be similar.
The use of the non-response frequently plays out in the policy and diplomacy arenas. Silence becomes a strategy. It is a way of creating an information barrier.
Not very long ago I was in a country receiving aid from a development bank (like almost all the countries I work in). Years earlier, I had conducted an evaluation of a sector program. Multi-year efforts had been underway to formulate and promote reforms in the sector. This involved convening sector stakeholders at regular meetings to discuss their proposals, concerns, interests, etc. within the framework of the problems that were identified needed to be addressed. However, the agency responsible for managing the sector – related to natural resources – had a reputation for being corrupt. It did not welcome the reform attempts, although it didn’t reject them outright, either. It simply did not respond to invitations to join the discussion forums. Representatives never showed up.
The agency, or at least its personnel, were indeed the stakeholders with the most to lose. Serious reforms would have reduced rent-seeking and corruption, the “excess remuneration” the agency staff were generating for themselves. In not cooperating, in not accepting the invitations to engage in dialogue, they were acting rationally, from their point of view, anyway.
Years later, the sector reforms still have not been implemented and, according to my sources, corruption at the agency continues to flourish. By not showing up, the agency was employing a power play that ultimately worked in their favor, although to the detriment of many other stakeholders who would have benefited (and still can) from reforms.
How to respond to the non-response?
When first confronted with silence in lieu of a response, it is best to consider the possibility that the reason is benign and not intended as an adversarial signal. Perhaps the other person did not receive the message, or received it and is still intending to respond, but is taking a long time. Or, they never got around to responding, and feel guilty about it. Your message may have gone to junk mail. They may have changed their email address. They may have had a death in the family or, God forbid, have passed on to the great beyond themselves. Those are all reasonably good excuses, ranging from the acceptable to the, shall we say, unassailable. They are forgivable sins.
Giving the non-responder a second chance, with a friendly follow-up reminder, is thus a good idea. If you have tried again, and still get no response, however, it may well be time to reciprocate, by “answering” silence with silence.
Have you found yourself in a situation where you asked someone a question, especially in a face-to-face situation, and they simply ignored you? It is not pleasant. On top of all that, there is also a gender angle here, as my astute editor, Kitty Thuermer points out: over the years, women have complained about being professionally ignored, not heard, or marginalized by the men they work with. It is a most aggravating position to be in, and a most effective way of driving the nail in a relationship. (Although maybe we need to make an exception for the long-married couple, for whom a pattern of ignoring the other might be a habit more than anything else.) But in most other circumstances, ignoring someone is a power play, a signal of disrespect. I have rarely seen it used blatantly, I must add, but it is a very strong signal, with often immediate consequences for the relationship.
Sometimes, however, exit from the relationship is not a valid
option. Because of the nature of the professional or personal relationship,
there may be a compelling reason to keep reaching out in the face of silence.
For example, if the other party is in a position of authority in the
organization or network to which you belong, or where in order to move forward,
you absolutely must have a response. If you are in a dependent relationship, or
dependent salary and benefits, you may lack the power to reciprocate.
Still, it is doubtful such a situation cannot persist for
long without some sort resolution, as pressure build to move to a new equilibrium.
When not talking is justified
Sometimes, maintaining silence is about dignity. I recommend
not responding when people make inappropriate and unacceptable remarks. If they
are directing their words at someone else and they is unfair, demeaning, or prejudiced,
then you should, of course, respond. Not doing so would signal acquiescence.
This is not a tactic, it is simply the right thing to (not) do. But stony silence
can be a force for good in these cases.
Thus, talking is not necessarily always a good idea even if one’s intentions are good. Your choice
depends on the circumstances. You need to be discerning enough to know when to
talk and when to zip it. For a lot of
us, that can involve a lifetime of learning. And to re-apply the golden rule: Do not
do unto others that which you do not
want done unto you.
Is more or better communication always the answer? No, of
course not. Communication is not a silver bullet. It doesn’t solve every
problem.
People have different embedded values, opinions, and interests. And if they are strongly held, talking just ain’t gonna change minds. As probably most married (or unmarried) couples have noticed, certain issues don’t simply disappear no matter how much time is spent talking them over. My wife and I have been having pretty much the same conversation —over the design of a minor renovation project — for nigh on half a year, and we’re no closer to resolution, as far as I can tell. (Right now, chances are it will never happen!) This is despite the fact that in most other respects our marital communication seems to work reasonably well, I would venture.
Lincoln’s “hot
letter” routine
There are times when someone else’s problem isn’t yours, and
you don’t want it to become yours by starting a line of communication. There
are also times when you can avoid creating problems by restricting your
communication, when less is more.
This can be to the point where saying nothing at all may be
best for everyone involved. This might be true when, for example, you find
yourself on the verge of a fight, which could lead toward a rift in a relationship,
at work or elsewhere.
Imagine a team member or supervisor has written you email
criticizing your performance or questioning your judgment or abilities. Or they
have said something you find unfair and you are fuming. I’ve been there. In the
heat of the moment, the temptation arises to write them an angry response, explaining,
defending, rationalizing, setting the story straight. Quite possibly the tone
of your response skirts the bounds of what is seemly and professionally
acceptable. You marshal a series of points to make a brilliant argument, but
along the way you start coming across as some combination of defensive,
self-righteous, petty, and oversensitive. Believe me, it won’t make you look
good. It’s not a risk you want to take. However, by all means write that angry email
or text or tweet, but then…before you send it, hit delete.
Abraham Lincoln was a proponent of writing angry letters —
he called them “hot
letters” — but then he would simply not send them. He got whatever
he had to say off his chest, a therapeutic experience. Yet by not sending the
letter he avoided damaging a relationship or making a decision in anger. This
is a most excellent practice. It takes some discipline, but we would do well to
abide by it.
On the virtues of
being bland and brief
Of course, after you’ve written (and deleted) your hot
letter, you may still need to respond in some fashion. However, when you do, the
shorter and more innocuous the response, the better for all involved. I’ve
learned this the hard way.
Nowadays, if someone asks for my advice about what to write when
they are miffed about something, I generally encourage them to let it out all
out, to tell me what is bothering them…verbally. Then I tell them to write
their response but keep it cool, calm, professional, and brief.
Although it is said that humans are social animals — which presumably means that they love to talk and hang out with each other — it is rather striking how often they (ahem…we) mangle basic communication. I find the issue of poor communication, which extends all the to no communication, comes up as a problem in many of the projects I evaluate. The problem can arise between the implementer and project beneficiaries, between the funder and the implementer, between management levels at the same organization. And, of course, at times team members also have their own internal communication problems.
Poor communication can result in all sorts of unpleasant outcomes: people stop cooperating, stop doing what they’re supposed to, misunderstand or distrust each other, get frustrated, get angry. Generally, whatever the cause of the miscommunication, it leaves people unhappy. The situation is unstable; there are dynamics which are pushing it to change.
For example, on a recent evaluation I worked on (whose details I can’t divulge), the project counterparts complained that the consultants who were advising them would disappear for months at a time. They wouldn’t hear from them. They didn’t like being kept in the dark, and when they saw the recommendations the consultants produced, they weren’t very happy. There had been almost no consultation, no input. In short, bad communication.
In another evaluation, the donor organized monthly meetings so the different project leaders could share information. However, communication was reduced to presenting progress reports, which most attendees found terribly boring and not very useful. There was no substantive discussion, no back and forth.
I have also been on projects where the team leader simply would not respond to emails, leaving us in the dark.
Why does communication come up so often as an issue in one form or another? Does it not occur to people that it’s helpful to keep others informed, or to check in with them? Are people just too busy? Or perhaps, do people deliberately withhold information, whether out of an abundance of caution or in order to get some advantage? Really, it could be any of these reasons. Take your pick.
It is
inevitable that when two parties sit down to talk, to work something out, each will
have its own interests. These interests may overlap, but they rarely coincide. This
is particularly true at the policy level, when one, or both, parties are
unhappy with their current situation and want it to improve.
Is talking
really necessary? If one party decides to change a situation unilaterally,
without talking to other stakeholders, in all likelihood this would require
coercion and could lead to an unstable new status quo.
I would argue that, as a rule, it is easier, and less costly, to get the other party to agree to a change by taking their interests into account, as opposed to forcing them to comply with a new policy. It may not always be possible, and opposing interests may lead to full-blown conflict, but it is always worth the attempt.
When is the optimum time to sit down and talk?
Let me propose that a situation is ripe for parties to hold talks when things are veering out of balance, out of equilibrium, and it is in at least in one party’s interest to seek a change. Of course, both parties may be interested in talking, or it could be just the one. In the latter case, it try to might persuade, or even force, the other to engage. The broader objective of talking between stakeholders with different interests is to effect a change.
The new governments of Algeria and Sudan — which replaced those of their ousted leaders, Bouteflika and al Bashir, respectively — may be facing this choice. They will either need to be so strong and ruthless that they force the populace to give in (as many Arab Spring governments in the Middle East have done), or they will need to sit down with opposition leaders and negotiate until a new political system is put into place that everyone can live with. The more powerful the interim governments feel, and the more money and support they get, say, from sympathetic countries, the less they will feel compelled to meet with protesters to address their demands and concerns. In that case, expect the new status quo to be unstable.
Refusing to
talk to others signals that you don’t want to see a change, and/or that you
anticipate losing something as a result.
Of course, there are times when communication may be difficult or impossible, due to language or physical barriers. Although such factors may not be of primary importance, they do also illustrate the value of communication.
The Prisoner’s Dilemma –
communication and cooperation
We can consider the “prisoner’s dilemma” game to illustrate an extreme case — how the failure to communicate leads to sub-optimal outcomes. The prisoner’s dilemma presents a scenario — drawn from game theory — which is based on an inability to communicate and reveals the negative consequences that ensue. Without being able to talk to each other, two prisoners, apprehended for the same violation or crime, will struggle to cooperate. Depending upon the decisions they make, this inability to communicate, can end up hurting both of them.
The dilemma arises because, unable to talk to each other, each prisoner fears the other will betray him or her, and may make a decision which could negatively affect his release.
There are
many variations and applications of the prisoner’s dilemma, including using it for
strategies of cooperating or not cooperating in order to come out ahead in a
game, a competition (in business, for example), or a conflict, and also for
when the game is expanded beyond two parties.
While the game, and the math behind it can get complex, and quite hypothetical in terms of the different outcomes – the larger point is that if the two prisoners could communicate, it is more likely that they would cooperate on an optimal strategy for both, which is generally what it takes to identify solutions that satisfy everyone involved. (Of course, even after agreeing on a strategy, one could still betray the other). Studies have found that, indeed, the ability to communicate reduces the rate of non-cooperation (or “defection” as the academic literature puts).
What I want to draw attention to is the critical factor of communication. Of knowing vs. not knowing what another person’s intentions are. It makes it hard to come to the “right” decision, since you don’t know what the other person wants, what they are thinking. You don’t know where they stand, what they are willing to accept, where they are willing to compromise. Without being able to communicate, the optimal outcome of mutual consensus is out of reach, and both are confined, as it were, to a bad status quo, or “low level equilibrium” (a stable situation that isn’t very good for anyone) as game theorists refer to it. Communication doesn’t automatically erase distrust – the other person may not be sincere, or not keep their word – but it can reduce it.
To return to the context of development work, whether you are in the field, or operating out of headquarters, the inability to communicate with partners, stakeholders or adversaries puts you in a metaphorical prison cell, solitary confinement, only able to guess the other’s intentions. Establishing better communication, breaking out of the metaphorical prison cell, may be the best way of breaking free, and getting to a better, and more stable, equilibrium.
In a world of intractable problems that often seem to demand complex or high-tech solutions, what is one simple way to cut through the layers and build a consensus to move forward? Start talking…face to face.
Although not a guaranteed remedy, getting people with different interests in the same room to hash out an issue is a tried and true method of dealing with all sorts of impasses. Bringing different sides to the table to sit down and talk together, or creating forums for discussion is a powerful, time-tested tool, whether the parties are in a dispute, have different interests, are communicating poorly, or are merely not paying attention to each other’s concerns. Discussing issues over a meal is even better. Apparently, sharing food has a positive impact on negotiations, according to The Economist.
It is striking how often poor communication comes up as an issue in the news, and — just as striking — how often good communication is considered part of the solution to problems large and small. From international summits to talks on climate change to committee meetings, to mediation as an alternative to court proceedings, to couples’ therapy, creating the space for conversation is at the heart of many solutions. In Eastern Europe, I once evaluated a USAID project whose purpose was to improve economic governance by promoting public private dialogue (PPD). For the uninitiated, PPD is a thing — with its own website , charter, and handbook. About $20 million in project funds were spent in convening stakeholders from government, business and civil society. These resources also covered organizing meetings and retreats on reforms in different sectors. In addition, the project complemented the dialogue forums with analytical work on individual reforms. Guess what? The public private dialogue approach was, by and large, perceived as effective by all three stakeholder groups. The PPD platform did ensure that in many cases the reforms incorporated the interests of the different actors, and, by doing so, helped move them forward. The initiative was seen as one of the most important influences on reforms.
Just getting parties to talk seems like such a simple thing, compared with all the thorny problems facing society, and the sophisticated solutions being promoted (artificial intelligence, anyone?). And talking really means talking, not texting, videoconferencing, or some other forum of digital communication. I’m not denying that these have their uses, but nothing seems to be as effective as face-to-face meetings for building rapport. How else to explain the estimated 462 million business trips taken in the U.S. (in 2017)? Think of the awkward pauses during conference calls, or the unreliable technology that shuts you off in the middle of a videoconference. But even if these issues were addressed somehow, there is a qualitative difference to talking to someone sitting in front of you.
Pay attention and you’ll see that meeting in order to talk is a solution to many, many problems. In her book Leadership in Turbulent Times , Doris Kearns Goodwin recounts how Teddy Roosevelt brought mine owners and workers together to resolve the months-long 1902 anthracite coal strike by United Mine Workers of America, which was threatening to cause major social disruptions. A recent Financial Times(behind paywall) article by Sylvaine Chassany describes French President Emmanuel Macron’s initiative to connect with citizens by holding conversations around the country — organized by En Marche party moderators. Although the word “engagement” is overused, Macron’s motive was to enable people to share their concerns directly with the government. Of course, resolutions to virtually all violent conflicts, are, at one point or another, sought through multi-party talks: North Korea, Iran, Ukraine and so on. Of course, it doesn’t always work out.
There are alternatives. One example would be the one-sided resolution delivered by crushing defeat if you’re on the losing side. There is a school of thought that this approach is actually preferred, as it is stable and final. Continued non-cooperation, or stalemate, is also very common. Or how about endless conflict? Examples of the latter that come to mind are the Israel-Palestine and Afghanistan conflicts. In fact, Wikipedia lists 55 ongoing conflicts that have lasted at least 20 years apiece. Whether these alternatives are preferred or not, they are depressingly widespread. Winston Churchill reportedly said “to jaw-jaw is always better than to war-war,” or words to that effect.
What talks can do
Talking things over with others is a good idea even when you are not at war. It can serve all kinds of ends. Beyond resolving conflicts, it is a good a way of sharing news or information (e.g. the press conference), obtaining information (e.g. interviews), exploring opportunities (e.g. business meetings); promoting ideas (e.g. during campaigning by politicians and activists), or just building trust by bringing in the personal element, when previously it was all about power or preferences. Talking is, admittedly, not necessarily a solution in and of itself. However, it seems that it has some attributes that are conducive to finding solutions. What might they be? I propose the following:
Just showing up for talks demonstrates a willingness to listen to the other side. It signals a cooperative posture, giving both sides confidence that they are not wasting their time.
By their nature, talks force the other side to listen to other views, positions, perspectives, and whatever else they need to get off their chest. Otherwise, outside of talking, the information the other side wants to share may primarily be seen via propaganda, or (possibly biased) media like the press or social media. Listening to others express themselves will probably lead to their views being considered, at a minimum.
Talks can ease tension. They allow different sides to express their positions.
A discussion forum can empower people who felt their voices weren’t being heard. This can help even the playing field
The brainstorming aspect to seek solutions can generate proposals and help chart a way forward.
It is an efficient way of sharing information. Talks focus on the essentials, compared to written reports which may contain much useful information, but much that is extraneous to the purpose of the meeting.
So the next time that you find yourself scratching your head, or worse — banging it against a wall — reach for the low-tech, low hanging fruit. Advise people to sit down together and work it out verbally. Way before Microsoft capitalized and appropriated the term, the Bible’s famous opening line was: “In the beginning was the Word.”
The year is 2016. I’m sitting on the cement floor of a
home in a village outside of Tulajpur, deep in the Indian state of Maharashtra.
I’m surrounded by more than a dozen women entrepreneurs taking part in a focus
group.
My American colleague “Lisa” and I are here conducting
a USAID evaluation, as we crisscross India to assess similar projects, along
with other team members. We’ve come to this place to ask entrepreneurs to share
their experience with an innovative program that promotes the use of cheap and
affordable solar-powered lamps, as well as other solar-powered gadgets. These savvy
women, who run small shops built into the front of their houses, are a key link
in the supply chain that helps off-the-grid rural Indians light their homes. The
focus group discussion was animated and friendly, with any cultural barriers
fading to insignificance.
Two things struck me. First, all of them had
smartphones, which they were using to snap photos of us. Normally, it is the evaluators who photograph focus group
members, so you could ask, who was observing whom? Although it was a relatively
poor village, the women in our group clearly had above-average income levels.
In 2016, only about one in six Indians owned a smartphone, and most of them were
in urban areas.
The second notable thing was the latrine situation –
there was none. When our meeting ended, Lisa asked if she could use the toilet.
She didn’t get a clear answer. After she asked again (the meeting had lasted three
hours, after all), the woman hosting the meeting then reluctantly showed Lisa an
empty room at the back of the house, which had a sink, but no running water,
and a small hole in the floor. This was not a Turkish-style squat toilet with
the ceramic footholds flanking a hole, either. Lisa said the room looked
nothing like a bathroom, and she was not about to repurpose it. When she inquired
where the women did their business, the homeowner sheepishly indicated an
empty, rubbish strewn lot next door. That
was the toilet, so to speak.
The incongruity of people leapfrogging to smart
phones, while still practicing what in development circles is called open
defecation, was striking. Although I spend a good bit of every year in
developing countries, it still took me aback. The Tulajpur women were
simultaneously stuck in the past – a noxious, undignified and unhealthy past –
and yet benefiting from a high technology “future,” one which would have seemed
like science fiction to their parents.
As this insightful article in National
Geographic on the topic of latrines and open defecation makes clear,
the problem of persuading people to build or use latrines is complex. Open
defecation is still how 1.2 billion people on the planet relieve themselves,
and almost half of those live in India. The practice comes with serious health implications
as it raises the risk of infection, disease and death, especially for children.
The issue isn’t the availability of the actual
physical object. Many latrines have been built, but remain unused. A complex
array of factors come into play: tradition (historically, of course, all of
humanity lacked toilets), to the still-extant caste system which makes it a
disgrace to clean out latrine pits for anyone but the Dalits (formerly known as
untouchables), to lack of sewerage systems, to a supposed aversion to enclosed
spaces while defecating. Getting families or villages to build just a pit
latrine – or even use one that is
built for them – remains difficult. A lot of outhouses have fallen into disuse,
or have been repurposed as storage sheds.
This is not to single out India, which has made
tremendous strides on many socio-economic indicators, such as lowering its birth
rate to 2.1 children per woman – definitely a modern phenomenon. I bring up open
defecation and smartphones as examples of how governments and donors sometimes have
very different priorities from the population. Getting people to use a toilet has
major positive health impact. Almost no one argues for “cultural sensitivity”
and just letting people get on with it in this case.
The challenge of getting rural villagers to use
toilets is not that they are living in a sort of isolated, antediluvian Eden,
in harmony with nature, as the solar lamps and cell phones, not to mention
plastic trash strewn everywhere, make clear. I would argue that it encapsulates
three problems common to many development efforts.
First, the preferences of the state do not always
coincide with those of society. To paraphrase an old saying, the state
proposes, but (wo)man disposes. There may be excellent, scientifically-grounded
economic and health reasons to pull people into the modern world, but it turns
out that people have their own preferences, or priorities, such as smartphones.
Indeed, social behavior change has become a field of study in its own right. It
is one thing to build something, but getting people to use it is another
matter.
Second, having a vested interest is a powerful motivator. As every landlord and tenant has no doubt observed, a different attitude comes into play when you own something compared with just using it. That is why many programs that build infrastructure for communities focus on “ownership” as a concept. They require communities to contribute in kind or in cash. Yet often the cost is so high that the community contribution is not more than 5 percent, or less, and that feeling of ownership is concomitantly weak.
Three, when poor countries aspire to the public goods
available in richer countries, they often end up building or buying things that
they can’t afford to use. In a lot of cases, infrastructure, from the most
basic latrines, to enormous projects such as hydroelectric dams, is being built in countries where they lack the
technical and financial resources to maintain and operate them. Funds need to
be accessed and set aside, and procedures introduced.
Unfortunately, we
didn’t get into a discussion with our focus group women on these issues. That
was not why we were there. However, I’m sure they would have given us a valid
reason for their choices, at least from their perspective.
Summer is in full swing. Before it’s over, I’d like to make some book recommendations. These are for anyone interested in international development but who might find the subject a bit heavy to delve into while at the beach. I think that’s pretty much everyone, myself included! None of these books are new, but each is compelling and even entertaining.
The Idealist: Jeffrey Sachs and the Quest to End Poverty (2013) by Nina Munk will no doubt appeal to the cynics who believe development aid is a waste of money. Munk describes Jeffrey Sachs’ Millennium Villages initiative to inject funds into several villages in Africa. This is part of Sachs’ effort to demonstrate that the fundamental problem is one of investments, i.e. that there are not enough being made. Sachs is a well-known economist who has called for a doubling of aid and he should be commended for putting his money where his mouth is (well, not his money, but funds raised from various donors). The results are not, by and large, happy. For anyone, myself included, who thinks the problem with aid is not so much the lack of financing, but cultural and institutional challenges that arise when you try to give shovel money into a place which lacks the enabling environment. It isn’t the quantity of aid financing, but about the quality. This book supports that argument, while describing what, at the time of writing looked like a lost cause. Highly readable and thought provoking.
Behind the Beautiful Forevers: Life, Death, and Hope in a Mumbai Undercity(2012) by Katherine Boo is not, strictly speaking, about development aid. I include it here because of the richly detailed descriptions of life among the poorest of the poor, especially their interactions with, and dependence on the world outside their slum. Looming large is the Mumbai International airport, the very reason for the slum’s existence, and a direct or indirect source of livelihood for most of its residents. Although a work of journalism, it reads like fiction, as Boo uses a very close narrative voice to relate what is going on inside the heads of a number of characters. This level of intimacy was achieved by conducting interviews with 168 people over a period of several years.
Adventures in Dystopia(2013) by Daniel Sellen, is an all-too believable and highly enjoyable fictional account of six connected characters, three from the West, three from developing countries. The Westerners are in the business, so to speak, of helping the poor, for a variety of motives. On the other side, the three characters – from Columbia, India and Cameroon – each have their own agenda, which doesn’t necessarily coincide with what the aid workers have in mind. Sellen, a World Bank staff, clearly draws on his own extensive professional and personal experiences to depict a world alternating between comedy and tragedy, and the chemical reactions that can and do occur when people from rich and poor societies encroach on each other’s territory, so to speak.
Don’t be put off by the somewhat hyperbolic title or fooled into thinking that this is an instruction manual. In How to Change the World(2007) David Bornstein describes the work done by social entrepreneurs. Social entrepreneurship differs from straightforward entrepreneurship in that its goals that encompass social, environmental or other common good problems. Bornstein devotes each chapter to a different Ashoka fellows (as well as the founder of Ashoka, one of the original promoters of social entrepreneurship) who, in various ways, have changed the lives of many, many people through creatively tackling problems in their communities. Issues they have addressed include promoting reading, self-employment for women, etc. These are a far cry from Silicon Valley apps which seek to make life slightly more convenient for the urban middle class. They are inspiring stories of how a little assistance can go a long way, and a welcome antidote to the cynicism that can come from seeing insurmountable problems everywhere.
From different perspectives all four books highlight the cultural barriers between rich and poor, between the citizens of Western and developing countries. It turns out – surprise, surprise! – that people in developing countries have agency. They are not a mass of abject, aid-dependent sufferers, but many are hard-working and entrepreneurial with their own rich and complex inner lives. They inhabit worlds every bit as complicated, hierarchical, and full of joys and sorrows, as we in developed countries do. They are not passive recipients, not the ‘meek who will inherit the earth’. They will succeed (if they succeed) because they are entrepreneurial, on the lookout for an opportunity. They are likely to be as morally upright as they are devious or corrupt. In many ways they are not unlike everyone else on the socioeconomic ladder, from the poorest of the poor to the billionaire elites.
What hinders the majority of people in poorer countries from doing better are systemic issues. Country institutions often work against their people, who must deal with arbitrary justice, antagonistic rule of law, and entrenched networks which keep them from finding opportunities to thrive. In this respect, let us hope that developing countries converge with the West, and not the other way around!
The non-partisan Congressional Budget Office (CBO) last week released its cost estimate of the American Health Care Act, the Republicans’ plan to replace the Affordable Care Act, colloquially known as Obamacare.
The CBO looked at a range of impacts. The headline numbers from the CBO estimate are a reduction in the federal deficit between 2017 and 2026 by $337 billion and a total of 52 million uninsured by 2026 (with 14 million losing insurance next year). There’s something to like (deficit reduction) and something to dislike (loss of health insurance for millions), depending on where you stand on these issues. Without passing judgment on the significance of the potential effects of the new bill, let’s focus on the reaction of the bill’s backers, including the White House, to the CBO and its work.
Even before the CBO report was published on March 9, potshots were being taken at the normally highly respected office. Forbes characterized the them as a “pre-emptive, coordinated attack.” Joe Barton, a Republican former House Energy and Commerce Committee Chairman, had this to say about the CBO: “I don’t know what they do, they sit around and think great thoughts and everything on the issues…One of the things we need to do is reform the CBO folks.” And Gary Cohn, director of the White House National Economic Council said on Fox News that “in the past, the CBO score has really been meaningless.”
The reactions suggest that some supporters of “repeal and replace” already sensed that the new healthcare proposal would not follow Trump’s professed goal of providing all Americans with great healthcare at lower costs than Obamacare. It is also worth remembering that the CBO director, Keith Hall, was named to his post by Republicans. This doesn’t mean that the CBO always gets its numbers right. It doesn’t. But its analysis is transparent and explained in enough detail that one can understand how it reaches its conclusions.
As an evaluator, part of whose work involves estimating the impacts of policy reforms, I can sympathize with the CBO being targeted for attack. Conducting evaluations, which is essentially what the CBO has done in tallying the costs and benefits of replacing Obamacare, is a great way to lose friends and alienate people. Evaluators are never the most popular kids on the block. We don’t control pots of money, we aren’t trumpeting success stories, our job doesn’t involve being ingratiating in order to sell stuff. We dig around and find out what worked and what didn’t, who’s winning and who’s losing. It’s necessary (and hopefully useful) work, but it’s not a popularity contest. And evaluations always turn up shortcomings. Nobody’s perfect. As the messenger, you can expect to get (metaphorically) shot at.
At a minimum, people get a bit nervous when their organization or program is evaluated. Even if the client who commissions the evaluation outlines the questions they want answered, evaluators are still being allowed ‘inside’; they’re able to ask questions of pretty much anyone connected to or benefiting from the project. Good evaluators pry through reports, extract data from whatever sources they can get their hands on, and double check everything they hear. Sometimes, the evaluation can seem a lot like an investigation.
I’ve conducted evaluations all over the world, some of them under fairly hostile circumstances. Even if the main client wants to have evidence on the impacts of a reform, that doesn’t mean everyone wants to know. There are potential winners and losers who have a stake in the outcome of your evaluation. There are vested interests. Trade union representatives, for example, can be a tough bunch. I once worked on an evaluation of the potential impacts of a mine privatization in eastern Serbia. Layoffs were expected. When I conduct this type of work, it is my policy to meet with representatives of all the affected groups. In this case, everyone knew that the restructuring was going to lead to the loss of about 2,500 jobs. It was the task of my evaluation team to estimate what would happen to their income and job prospects afterwards. The concerns of the workers were legitimate and completely understandable from their perspective, even if the mine was dependent on tens of millions of dollars of budget support annually. My approach to dealing with the trade unions was to open a line of communication with them, and keep it open throughout the study preparation, fieldwork and reporting period. This involved meeting with them periodically, listening to their concerns, and explaining what we researchers were doing.
On a similar study, this one collecting evidence on the impact of downsizing Croatia’s shipbuilding industry, we had a very different experience. There was unfortunately not enough budget or time to meet with the trade union representatives more than once. The antagonism toward the evaluation was considerable. Fieldwork included conducting an employee survey in a room on the premises of the shipyards. In fact, our survey supervisor, a young Croatian woman, was asked by a shipyard manager to turn over the list of (randomly selected) employees she was interviewing. When she refused he locked the door to the room and threatened not to let her out unless she complied with his request. She resolutely stuck to her guns however, risking her safety and wellbeing in the name of evaluation ethics. Luckily, she was able to call someone in the Ministry from the locked room with her cell phone, and secure her own release. But it left her shaken. I have even heard of survey interviewers in some countries being detained and jailed for doing their work.
In some respects, evaluators are indeed like investigative reporters. That makes the work interesting, and occasionally risky. But the evaluator as an investigator is not really the ideal association you want to create. It can sound, well, threatening. Another, and more conducive analogy is that of evaluator as a “critical friend.” This concept was proposed a quarter century ago by Costa and Kallick in a 1993 article. They noted that critical friendship must begin with building trust, and go on to highlight the qualities that such a friend provides. That includes listening well, offering value judgments only when the learner (i.e. the client) asks for them, responding with integrity to the work, and advocating for the success of the work (p. 50). As an evaluator, you are not trying to establish guilt, or attack or push an agenda. You are there to help the organization or policy maker better understand the impacts of their programs or proposals, and improve them so that their goals can be attained.
Going back to the CBO’s report, it reads like a levelheaded, thoughtful piece of analysis. If its critics have a problem with it, you might expect them (at least in a less frenzied atmosphere) to respond by questioning its assumptions, or offering counter-evidence. When critical voices fail to do this, it is probably because they don’t have good answers.
This does not mean that, as evaluators, we can be smug. We live in a world where the idea of “evidence-based” does not have a strong hold on the public’s imagination, and is anathema to many politicians. We need to work harder, and use the evidence we have to tell a more compelling tale.
Prices go up. That’s part of life, whether we like it or not. We can just go along with it, reduce our consumption, or…take a stand. For governments providing a service for which they charge, it’s a balancing act. How to raise the price of something without causing hardship or protests, while still covering the cost of providing it?
Last year I was involved in designing a study that, among other things, assessed customer’s willingness to pay for better utility service. This meant asking people all over the country, as part of a household survey, whether they would pay more for better service.
Governments planning to develop or upgrade public services may be interested in knowing to what extent consumers are willing to bear the costs of investment, via higher rates. For example, if water supply service provision is substandard, governments will develop investment plans to improve quality, supply, access, etc. Governments can go to commercial or development banks to access financing up front. However, typically they will seek to recoup at least part of those costs by passing them on to customers via higher tariffs. That was what brought me to the country in question.
The survey would, ideally, help determine what poor households could afford and whether proposed new tariff levels would pose a hardship or not. An array of mitigation measures, including various kinds of subsidies, can be developed for those households deemed to need them. Beyond that, governments also want to know about overall household tolerance for paying more. Will higher tariffs lead to higher non-payment levels? Will they bring people to the streets? Could proposed tariff increases fail to pass? In that case the whole investment strategy would be called into question.
The way a willingness to pay (WTP) study works is that respondent are asked if they would pay more, either a specific amount, or as a percentage of their current water bill. Originally, this method contingentvaluation, was used to estimate whether and how much extra people would pay for an environmental good, such as clean air or water.
There are all kinds of different ways of asking WTP questions. For example, you can ask a yes/no question, ask different households about different amounts and build a demand curve, or use an open-ended approach, asking them to volunteer an amount themselves. Naturally, how you formulate the question will affect the answer. And getting reliable answers is a challenge. Some people hold their cards close to their chest, unwilling to reveal they might pay more. Consciously or unconsciously, they enter bargaining scenario, like at a bazaar, hoping to get the best deal. Others may answer that they’re willing to pay a higher amount than they would like. They may be trying to convince the government to just hurry up and get on with the investment, and let’s worry about the tariffs later (when maybe they won’t go up quite so much).
Almost all WTP methods are quantitative. The idea is to collect data from a sample of households that represent a population of interest (a city, a region, a country). Now, getting back to our survey: about half replied they would not be willing to pay a cent more for water and sanitation improvements. Of the half that did say they’d pay more, the amount was about 5%. Fair enough.
What was interesting, however, was that when we broached the subject of paying more during a focus group, covering questions very similar to our survey, but in an open-ended, more in-depth manner, the share of people saying they’d pay more for better service was very high. Almost everyone said yes. Of course, this is not a scientific comparison – a thousand households vs ten people sitting around a table. But it got me thinking again about the manner in which we as researchers engage with our subjects. How much does the context matter? Focus group discussions, by their nature, foster open dialogue and exchange of ideas. They tend to put the research subjects on a different footing. They are given more agency, they able to share their thoughts and ideas with a moderator who guides the conversation. (Unlike the survey interviewer, the focus group moderator is not trying to get through a long list of questions, looking to get a limited range of responses.)
This got me thinking about a hypothesis that might be worth testing. It goes something like this: asking about people’s willingness to pay as part of a back-and-forth conversation (i.e. focus group) rather than via a survey questionnaire leads to a greater stated willingness to pay. In the context of a conversation people can ask clarifying questions, can explain their reasoning, can describe under what conditions they would be willing to cough up more. Engaging them more as equals, as ‘experts’ so to speak, in the matter of their own consumption habits, leads to a different place. Trust is probably going to be higher when people don’t feel so much like they’re just going to be a data point.
Methodological purists may argue that, ‘well, of course you’re getting different responses, since you’re asking questions in a different way.” My response is – that’s exactly the point. To me, the more relevant question is, to what extent do the research methods mimic real world conditions under which higher tariffs are pushed through?
While it would be certainly more difficult to analyze qualitative research on WTP than quantitative survey data, let us test what the former approach can add. Engaging customers through such an approach, treating them as thoughtful partners with valuable perspective on a public service, rather than only as data points, could be useful in informing tariff strategy. It could yield more information concerning the conditions people would countenance paying more, why and why not, and how to best to engage them on this often difficult topic.
The next time you ask someone to pay more for a service, don’t just take ‘no’…or ‘yes’ for answer.
I’m a big fan of using mixed methods in evaluation. That means combining qualitative and quantitative data, such as statistical data on household energy consumption and interview findings, where people reveal what it’s actually like to live with regular blackouts. This is not just because it’s always interesting to poke around at problems from different angles, but because the resulting analysis is generally much more layered and nuanced. Let me use a case study from a few years ago to illustrate what I’m talking about.
Applying different methods to the same problem is like stepping into the shoes of different blind men around an elephant, all trying to determine the nature of the creature. Instead of standing in front, holding the trunk and guessing it’s some kind of snake, or standing alongside, grabbing a leg and guessing it’s a tree, and so on, you test every dimension by shifting your position. A key advantage in using mixed methods is the ability to triangulate findings. Not only can you compare and cross-check your results – when done well, a more multi-layered, nuanced version of the underlying issues emerges. On the other hand, doing so can also complicate your life: there is always the risk of ending up with findings that don’t make a lot of sense.
Nonetheless, when findings derived from different methods not only highlight different attributes, but point in different directions, that is when the most interesting decision points and nuanced analysis can arise. Assuming the problem does not lie with the methodology or data collection itself (something which should always be checked), evaluators will need to do some probing to figure out why the data points in different directions.
We faced this issue as part of a 2004 World Bank-financed evaluation of the household impacts of electricity sector reforms in Moldova, using the ‘poverty and social impact analysis’ (PSIA) approach. The accompanying steep increase in electricity tariffs was seen by some as hurting the poor, and a reason to roll back reforms.
The data we analyzed showed a marked improvement in electricity consumption among the poorest 20% of households. However, the perception among poor households, gleaned through qualitative methods (focus groups) painted a less than rosy picture. We heard a lot of complaints from them. Based solely on the quantitative evidence, our report might have concluded that all was well, that concerns over hurting the poor with high prices were overblown. Conversely, if we had only used qualitative findings, we might have concluded that the reforms were indeed a negative for the poor.
Is raising electricity tariffs good or bad for the poor?
A bit of background: by 2003, with World Bank assistance, Moldova had privatized two-thirds of its electricity distribution network (the part of the grid which delivers electricity to customers). The aim was to improve sector performance by moving it to a commercial footing. Then, as now, Moldova was one of the poorest countries in Europe. A Spanish operator, Union Fenosa, had won the tender, with a pledge to invest $54 million in upgrading the infrastructure.
Prior to privatization, bills had gone unpaid, operating costs had not been covered, barter payments were common, and the network was severely degraded. Outside of Chisinau, the capital, most people could only count on a few hours of electricity per day. However, a Communist government had recently been elected and, with electricity tariffs rising steadily for years, some policy makers were now arguing that the reforms were having a punitive effect on poor households. There were fears among the donors that the privatization would be reversed, returning the distribution networks to state control. This is what triggered the study.
I was part of a team of Bank staff and consultants tasked with evaluating whether the poor were, in fact worse off now than before the reform. As tariffs increased, were they consuming less electricity? Or were they perhaps cutting back on consumption in other areas? Either scenario would have pointed to a negative welfare effect.
The methods behind the madness
By matching billing data provided by the electricity with data on household expenditures (from the country’s Household Budget Survey), we were able to track consumption patterns over the 5-year period which coincided with tariff rises and privatization. Tariffs had begun climbing prior to privatization (to make the sector more attractive to potential bidders) and continued to afterwards. Over that period, they rose a whopping 300%, in nominal terms which translated into 26% in inflation-adjusted terms. This meant that the cost of electricity rose slightly faster than the average costs of other goods in the household consumption basket. That fact doesn’t provide a sufficient basis on which to base a conclusion about welfare.
With this in mind, we did not just analyze the data, we also talked to the population directly (thereby mixing our methods). A local research firm held 43 focus group discussions and 59 key informant interviews across the country. We basically wanted to hear about the users’, the electricity consumers’, perspective on these changes. Many focus group participants related how badly conditions had become during the, literally, dark years after independence.
“About two years ago a girl was raped, and now I don’t permit them to leave the house in the night,” reported a woman named Anea
“Everybody, children, the elderly, grown-ups, are affected by the darkness in the entrance hall and on the streets. It is very difficult to walk when we return home late in the evening. The roads are in a bad state, full of holes and one can easily fall down and break the neck,” Tamar said.
“In our entrance hall, the bag of an old woman was stolen, together with her pension for one month,” according to Elena
What did the data show? We found that over the period electricity consumption among the poorest 20% had risen by 14.6%, even as electricity tariffs rose more than 300% in nominal terms and 26% in real terms. Of course, people weren’t consuming more electricity because the cost went up; they were consuming more because their incomes were increasing. We also found that among all other households (which we designated the ‘non-poor’), consumption rose by 3.2% (i.e. the poor experienced bigger consumption gains). Perhaps more importantly, there were no more rolling blackouts. From having on average 4 hours of electricity per day, everyone now enjoyed electricity service 24/7. Based on the data, we could confidently say that the poor were not being hurt by privatization with the concomitant tariff increases. (We did not seek to determine whether the electricity reform made the poor better off, a rather more complex and somewhat subjective question.)
Data vs. perceptions
So was the government wrong? Were the poor pleased with the changes? Hardly. Although many people acknowledged that things were better – they now had electricity 24/7 – the overriding message that emerged from focus group discussions was that many people were unsatisfied. They did not feel better off. They certainly did not express undying gratitude for the reforms. They complained about costs going up, about having to save, and about quality issues (e.g. voltage fluctuations). And they were unhappy about what they perceived as Union Fenosa’s excesses. The company had built itself a multi-story headquarters building, bought new company vehicles, sent out electricity bills using colored ink on high quality paper (replacing the cheap brown paper used previously, a Soviet-legacy. To top it off, it was seen to be spending money frivolously by paying for schoolchildren to go on outings to the circus and other measures aimed at burnishing its corporate image. All of this did not seem to impress the average Moldovan. In her view, the company should instead have kept its tariffs lower.
Returning to our quantitative findings in the light of public perceptions, one particular piece of information was of critical importance for setting the context: electricity consumption levels in Moldova at the time of privatization were extremely low. The average household consumed just 50 kWh per month, the equivalent of a couple of light bulbs and a TV. This was close to one third the Eastern European average, and a small fraction of developed country consumption levels. Many people (exactly half, of course) fall below the average increase in electricity consumption, and many had to reduce
According to Vasile: I think that the reform had a positive impact, the regular blackouts prior to the reform practically stopped the activity in many fields. However, there is the price issue.
“During winters I unplug the refrigerator, hence I pay by 35 lei less per month” a participated named Victoria said.
Did these findings invalidate our quantitative findings? I would say no, they were complementary. They helped explain why the government had been hearing mostly negative feedback about the privatization. While we found that the poor were not being hurt financially, it would have been a stretch to say that privatization had been a boon for them. The difference between 50 and 57 kWh per month is not exactly a game changer or cause for rejoicing if you’re a poor household.
This study illustrated the importance of using different methods of inquiry and, conversely, the risks of not doing so. If we had used one method only, we would have arrived at rather different conclusions – one too rosy (based on the consumption data) and one two bleak (based on people’s perceptions). Neither finding was right or wrong. They simply told different sides of the same story, and helped explain two very different but valid perspectives on the complex and charged (no pun intended) issue of privatization.
Well, it’s happened again, to paraphrase the Car Talk guys from NPR: someone has wasted another perfectly good opportunity to do tariff reforms properly.
This time, the Government of Argentina is in the hot seat. The Economist reported that the government recently tried to quadruple the price of gas and raise the price of electricity sixfold. It did so just as autumn set in, when customers heating bills go up anyway. Protests erupted, predictably enough. Reducing subsidies or raising prices is a balancing act requiring
Now, raising the price of anything by 400% or 600% at one go may sound extreme. But Argentina’s utility prices have been at rock bottom for a long time. They are a a legacy of populist measures under the previous Kirchner regimes. In fact, the cost of electricity per kWh is just 1 cent per kWh, compared with 16 cents in Brazil and 12 cents in Chile. The previous governments had kept prices artificially low through massive state subsidies, which ballooned to 12.3% of government spending by 2014. A nice parting gift to the new administration of President Mauricio Macri. This is a precious use of public resources that could be put to far better use elsewhere. The Economist noted that the subsidies were costing the government $16 billion a year.
When a commodity is so cheap, it also tends to be wasted. Who is going to turn the lights off when you will hardly notice the difference in your bill? A knock-on effect is rolling blackouts, as power producers struggle to generate enough supply.
With mounting opposition to the price hikes on August 18, the Supreme Court ordered the increases blocked. According to the Financial Times , the grounds for the decision were that the gas price increase “violated the right to participation by consumers in the form of public hearings in the revision of tariffs.”
And so yet another chapter can be added to the story of how not to raise utility prices. There is a long list of governments failing in this particular endeavor.
What could the Macri government have done differently? Lessons from efforts by other countries to introduce price reforms could have been studied. They boil down to taking some basic measures. A few, but not all of them relate to the Supreme Court’s comments:
Engage in consultations with key stakeholders
Offer some concessions, instead of imposing the changes by fiat
Study the potential impacts, preferably using multiple tools – surveys, focus groups, stakeholder consultations – and doing so in an open, manner.
Time price increases better, so they didn’t kick in right at the time when usage is highest, i.e. with the cold weather season starting
Do a better job of communicating your rationale for raising prices
Introduce measures to mitigate the impact on those most affected
Of course, none of the above would have guaranteed that the price increase would have stuck. But preparing better would have considerably reduced the risk of failure, while also addressing public concerns. The failure to both raise prices and to consult more with consumers may effectively cost the government billions of dollars. That is money which could be spent on a host of other areas the country needs to invest in.
