Faith and Charity Religion and Humanitarian Assistance in West Africa Edited by Marie Nathalie LeBlanc and Louis Audet Gosselin
Anthropology, Culture and Society Series Editors: Professor Vered Amit, Concordia University Doctor Jamie Cross, University of Edinburgh and Professor Christina Garsten, Stockholm University Recent titles: The Limits to Citizen Power: Participatory Democracy and the Entanglements of the State Victor Albert
At the Heart of the State: The Moral World of Institutions Didier Fassin et al.
The Gloss of Harmony: The Politics of Policy Making in Multilateral Organisations Edited by Birgit Müller
Becoming Arab in London: Performativity and the Undoing of Identity Ramy M. K. Aly
Discordant Development: Global Capitalism and the Struggle for Connection in Bangladesh Katy Gardner
Contesting Publics: Feminism, Activism, Ethnography Lynne Phillips and Sally Cole
Community, Cosmopolitanism and the Problem of Human Commonality Vered Amit and Nigel Rapport Anthropologies of Value Edited by Luis Fernando Angosto-Ferrandez and Geir Henning Presterudstuen In Foreign Fields: The Politics and Experiences of Transnational Sport Migration Thomas F. Carter Dream Zones: Anticipating Capitalism and Development in India Jamie Cross A History of Anthropology Second Edition Thomas Hylland Eriksen and Finn Sivert Nielsen Ethnicity and Nationalism: Anthropological Perspectives Third Edition Thomas Hylland Eriksen Fredrik Barth: An Intellectual Biography Thomas Hylland Eriksen Small Places, Large Issues: An Introduction to Social and Cultural Anthropology Fourth Edition Thomas Hylland Eriksen
Anthropology and Development: Challenges for the Twenty-first Century Katy Gardner and David Lewis
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Organisational Anthropology: Doing Ethnography in and Among Complex Organisations Edited by Christina Garsten and Anette Nyqvist
Base Encounters: The US Armed Forces in South Korea Elisabeth Schober
Anthropology’s World: Life in a Twenty-First Century Discipline Ulf Hannerz
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1 Introduction Faith, Charity and the Ethics of Volunteerism in West Africa Marie Nathalie LeBlanc and Louis Audet Gosselin
While conducting research in Burkina Faso and Côte d’Ivoire at the turn of the twenty-first century, we both noticed that something was changing in the religious field and that religious activities alone were no longer always considered enough to sustain the life of faith-based associations. In the 1990s, both countries had experienced a growing interest in voluntary associations that was largely driven by a desire to affirm religious identities in the public sphere. A decade later, the discourses and practices of religious actors seemed to be shifting to other fields of activity. For instance, a 30-year-old Burkinabe woman described her waning interest in Islamic activism. Although she had long been involved in Muslim associations, having participated in religious activities since her teens, she stated that, ‘Up to now, I feel like I have done nothing for Islam. What I would like to do is work for a Muslim NGO [non-governmental organisation] or, I don’t know, maybe start my own business.’1 Her previous achievements of organising conferences, educational activities and religious training for young girls, were now deemed ‘not enough’. A similar shift was observed among young Muslims in Côte d’Ivoire. They were turning away from the Islamic activism of the previous generation towards ideas of religious entrepreneurship, which often involved humanitarian activities (LeBlanc 2012; Soares and LeBlanc 2015). Likewise, we encountered several Pentecostal leaders who identified socioeconomic development as the main objective of their organisations. For example, the president of the youth association of the Église protestante évangélique (EPE) in Ouagadougou mentioned that preparing young graduates for work in the private sector was one of their primary goals. He was especially concerned
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with providing alternatives to working in an already-saturated civil service, and with contributing to the country’s economic development.2 Finally, the youth association at a Catholic parish in the same city partnered with the government to host an ‘entrepreneurship training session’. The aim was to help develop an entrepreneurial spirit, considered crucial to the economic development of Burkina Faso, among the country’s youth.3 These examples point to an apparent convergence of religious activities, development projects and private initiatives. This phenomenon lies at the heart of this book, which explores how, since the 1980s, neoliberalism has shaped relationships between faith-based activism, humanitarian aid and social change in Burkina Faso and Côte d’Ivoire. On the one hand, neoliberalism is expressed through policies of economic liberalisation, which encompass reductions in government spending, an expanded economic role for the private sector and a focus on entrepreneurship as a motor of economic growth (Ferguson 2006a). On the other hand, neoliberalism is expressed as a moral and political ideology that aims to transform individual attitudes towards the economy by emphasising individual achievement over collective well-being (Hilgers 2010). In this book, we understand logics of neoliberalism in terms of a combination between economic policies and political ideologies that emphasise entrepreneurial ethics and practices. This book offers a fresh perspective on the relationship between religion, civil society and development through the prism of faith-based NGOs (fbNGOs)4 in West Africa, with a focus on Burkina Faso and Côte d’Ivoire. Building on a series of ethnographic case studies, the book analyses the social, political, cultural and religious roles of fbNGOs, as well as their ambiguous relationship to humanitarian aid institutions and the empowerment of civil society. In doing so, the authors show how fbNGOs are, on the one hand, products of a process of neoliberal globalisation that encourages the NGO-isation of societies, including the religious sphere. On the other hand, fbNGOs also reflect how religion has gained significant influence on both the political sphere and the logics of development. Furthermore, using an actor-oriented5 ethnographic analysis, the authors show how the activities of fbNGOs reflect a shift from political activism to development projects, a change that has a direct impact on religious institutions. In the remainder of the introduction, we first describe the economic context of the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, a period that
Introduction 3 saw the emergence of ‘neoliberalism’. Second, we discuss how religion has entered socioeconomic development, while proposing different analytical frameworks that can help in understanding the importance of religion for development. Third, we explain how the book explores this phenomenon, by highlighting how religious actors maintain complex relationships with the neoliberal economy, state policies, and broader ideological trends present in African societies. Next, we sketch the state of religious diversity in Burkina Faso and Côte d’Ivoire, the development challenges faced by the two countries, and the role played by fbNGOs in meeting those challenges. The fifth section addresses the religious dynamics at play in Burkina Faso and Côte d’Ivoire, and their relevance for the study of fbNGOs. Finally, we present the structure of the book and provide an outline of each chapter.
Neoliberalism and Economic Change The history of neoliberalism in Africa has been extensively studied, and we will refrain from providing yet another overview. Suffice it to say that, after the 1980s, the economic dynamics of sub-Saharan African societies dramatically shifted from state-centred development to liberalisation, under the pressure of international institutions such as the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund (IMF). A sharp decline in natural resource prices at the end of the 1970s had prompted a deep economic crisis in most African countries, which were highly dependent on exports of minerals and agricultural products. African governments were increasingly portrayed by international institutions as ineffective and corrupt, in contrast with the private sector, which was perceived as key to reducing national debts. As a result, African states were pressured to reduce the size of their bureaucracies, privatise key sectors of their economies and cut spending across the board, including in education and health care. Since the 1990s, under the combined effects of economic crises, structural adjustment programmes (SAPs) imposed by the IMF and post-Cold War realities, most African countries have engaged in processes of political liberalisation. In this context of rising economic neoliberalism, both scholars and international funding agencies have portrayed NGOs as key social structures. According to various researchers, the activities of NGOs in the field of socioeconomic development serve to consolidate both democratic gains and civil society (Almond and Verba 1989 [1963]; Clayton 1996; Hudock 1999; Marcussen 1996;
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Raghavan 1992). Furthermore, as pressure is exerted to reduce the political and economic powers historically concentrated in the hands of the state to the benefit of the market economy, civil society and, in particular, voluntary associations, the latter have been regarded as privileged sites for the renewal of collective life. They are often described as safeguards against social alienation in the context of commodification. In this way, civil society is often portrayed as the world of ‘ordinary people’, where solidarity is valued over conflict and equality over authority. From this perspective, associations that bring together like-minded citizens would serve as a counterweight to the deleterious effects of neoliberalism. In a number of African societies, the 1990s saw the emergence of civil society actors in newly liberalised public spaces. Examples include student protest movements, women’s associations demanding more equitable family laws, and religious revivalist movements. In fact, various scholars agree that, by the end of the 1990s, most African countries had experienced significant growth in urban and civic movements. Associations’ activities shifted from rural areas to popular-class neighbourhoods in urban contexts, and rural development and charitable activities gave way to new forms of solidarity and citizenship (Bourdarias 2003; Le Bris 1998). However, over the past couple of decades, a number of ‘upheavals’ have disrupted these emerging forms of solidarity and raised questions about the concrete role of civil society as the standard bearer of human rights and social progress. From climate-related problems and SAPs to political instability of all kinds, the continued deterioration of living conditions has led observers to wonder about the lack of consolidation among associations and to call into question the assumed autonomy and democratic potential of civil society (Bayart 1993; Chabal and Daloz 1999; Comaroff and Comaroff 1999; Kasfir 1998; Haberson et al. 1994; Lewis 1992; Otayek 2002). Indeed, issues of democratisation highlight the importance of relations between the state and various social actors. In particular, they raise the question of just how empowered these social actors are in relation not only to the state (Edwards 2004; Gellner 1994; Ghandour 2002; Mamdani 1996; Rangeon 1986), but also to the market and international development institutions. Through the energy crisis of the 1970s, the structural adjustments of the following decade, the various political crises that occurred across the continent, and successive natural disasters, NGOs have progressively entrenched themselves in Africa by playing a key role in humanitarian
Introduction 5 assistance. The trend towards the NGO-isation of associations and religious groups intensified during the 1990s, and became especially strong in the following decade (Freeman 2012b; Hearn 1998). ‘NGOisation’ refers to the increasingly significant responsibility taken by NGOs for services that were historically provided by the state – especially in education, health care and public safety (Giovannoni et al. 2004; Hearn 1998) – as well as the adoption of a neoliberal logic of economic growth by civil society actors. To some extent, processes of NGO-isation encourage a move away from forms of mobilisation that challenge state and international agencies’ policies on the part of civil society actors. Moreover, NGO-isation encompasses the extension of the formal NGO model to a vast array of civic and religious organisations, which previously did not identify as NGOs – including churches and religious, cultural and women’s associations. Scholars have primarily studied this trend in relation to Pentecostal churches, whose intimate connection with neoliberalism is widely recognised (Coleman 2000; Freeman 2012a). However, this book argues that the entire religious field has been affected by NGO-isation, albeit in different ways. One of the key questions at the heart of the book relates to the often ambiguous relationship between civil society and NGOs: can collective action in response to government policies and market forces transform NGOs, including fbNGOs, and give them new orientations? Or should we instead speak in terms of the NGO-isation of political life, a process through which collective action is channelled within the logic of economic development and growth (see Hours 1993)? Our approach also raises the question of how religious institutions and other civil society actors have been transformed by neoliberalism. On the one hand, since the 1990s, West Africa has seen a move away from more formal organisations such as labour unions, and an explosion of smallerscale associations, including faith-based groups (Soares and LeBlanc 2015). In particular, youth organisations have engaged in various forms of activism, from the Senegalese Set Setal urban movement (Diouf 1992) to local Ivorian Muslim associations (LeBlanc 1998). A number of chapters in this book (chapter 3, Binaté; chapter 5, LeBlanc; chapter 6, Couillard, Madore and Gomez-Perez; chapter 7, Audet Gosselin) show how fbNGOs have emerged from this kind of local activism. On the other hand, some new civil society actors, especially popular-class and faith-based associations, have adopted more formal structures. The chapters by LeBlanc, Audet Gosselin and Koenig (chapters 5, 7 and 9) highlight this
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process. Altogether, the book shows why scholars of development have been so fascinated by these twin transformations and their significance for the potential of local and faith-based initiatives in civil society.
Religion and Development Since the 1980s, religious expression has become increasingly conspicuous in most African countries, including Burkina Faso and Côte d’Ivoire. Religious markers are clearly displayed and spiritual activities are commonplace in the public sphere, a trend that scholars have documented primarily in relation to the expansion of Evangelical churches (Engelke 2007; Gifford 2004; Kalu 2006; Meyer 1999; Ojo 2006), but which has also placed intense pressure on ‘mainline’ Protestant churches and the Catholic Church. Although the latter can still exert considerable influence, they have lost their leading role in gaining new converts to Christianity (Corten and Marshall-Fratani 2001; Gifford 1998; Meyer 2004). Meanwhile, a number of studies have documented the transformation of African Islam since the late twentieth century. Some scholars have focused on the variable influence of political Islam, in light of broader changes in Muslim activism worldwide since the 1980s (Gomez-Perez 2005; Loimeier 1997; Osella and Soares 2009; Soares and Otayek 2007; Villalón 1995). Anthropologists have paid attention to the growing visibility and importance of Islamic practice in Africa, as well as its impact on gender relations, intergenerational relations, identity and media use (Gomez-Perez 2005; Holder 2012; Janson 2013; LeBlanc 1998; Masquelier 2009; Soares 2005; Soares and Hackett 2015). The increasing importance of religious affiliation highlights dynamics that have been observed since the 1980s and that have influenced both national and transnational public spheres. Indeed, the persistence of religious actors and faith-based logic would seem to belie theories of secularisation (Berger 1999; Casanova 1994; Kepel 1991). Some historians have proposed a theory of ‘confessionalisation’ as an alternative to secularisation in studies on the formation of modern European states (Boetcher 2004; Headley et al. 2004). More specifically, confessionalisation helps explain the significance of the emergence of rival Christian denominations following the Lutheran Reformation of the sixteenth century. In the countries of the Global South, it is important to understand these dynamics not in terms of ‘delay’ or ‘absence of modernisation’, but rather in terms of the interpenetration of religious and secular ideals in late modernity,
Introduction 7 something that multiple scholars have described as the ‘post-secular turn’ (Habermas 2008; Koehrsen 2012; McLennan 2010). The emergence of fbNGOs is a key component of growing religious influence insofar as their activities reflect the increased penetration of public sphere and civil society by religious actors. Furthermore, these organisations have become important players in socioeconomic development, which has historically been seen as a rational and secular space. Recent studies of NGOs and other emerging civil society actors have highlighted the growing presence of faith-based groups (Ben Néfissa et al. 2004; Benedetti 2006; Benthall and Bellion-Jourdan 2003; Duriez et al. 2007; Freeman 2012a; Ghandour 2002; Salih 2004). In Africa, the growth of fbNGOs has generally been associated with the democratisation process that began in the late 1980s (Fowler 1993; Hearn 2007; Le Bris 1998). However, researchers have expressed very divergent opinions on the role of fbNGOs. For some, the spread of Christian NGOs has followed logics of colonial expansion. These organisations are portrayed as ‘the unarmed wing of liberal globalisation’ (Brunel 2006) or as tools for the transition to a market economy (Bayart and Bertrand 2006) and for the privatisation of the state (Hibou 1999). From this perspective, the activities of fbNGOs reflect the imposition of new norms in socioeconomic development, education, health care and governance. Other scholars have analysed fbNGOs solely from the perspective of their religious affiliations and proselytization efforts. For example, Muslim NGOs have frequently been linked to jihadist movements, whose strategies combine humanitarian assistance with armed conflict (Esposito 2002; Ghandour 2002; Roy 2004; Sharma 2006). FbNGOs have also been studied as effective tools that compensate for the shortcomings of the market and the state. In this way, by becoming essential partners in the socioeconomic development of the Global South, these organisations have provided platforms for challenging unfair conditions (Duriez et al. 2007; Fowler 1993). The latter perspective dominates a body of literature that emerged at the beginning of the twenty-first century, often produced in close collaboration with international development organisations. In particular, Katherine Marshall, who served as Director of Development Dialogue on Ethics and Values at the World Bank, has conducted extensive research on the extent to which such international agencies could integrate fbNGOs into their activities and policies (K. Marshall 2001; Marshall and Keough 2004; Marshall and Van Saanen 2007). In the same vein, another series of publications underscore how the study of religion is relevant to the field of
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development (Clarke 2013; Haynes 2007; Levy et al. 2013) and decry the previous tendency to disregard religious factors in development (Clarke 2006; Selinger 2004; Van Beek 2000). In this perspective, interest in fbNGOs tends to be strongly connected with their capacity to provide easier access to local populations by leveraging both cultural proximity and religious commitment. Several Islamic NGOs have argued that they now have better access to Muslims in need than Western humanitarians (Ghandour 2002) and that they are in an excellent position to interpret the values of Muslim populations (Benthall 2006). Similar conclusions have been drawn in studies of Orthodox Christian groups (Molokotos-Liederman 2007). Religious affiliation has also been identified as a key motivating factor for the employees and volunteers of fbNGOs, leading to increased efficiency (Clarke 2006; Haynes 2007). According to Clarke, the emergence of fbNGOs was also largely the result of the rise of Evangelical Christianity in the United States. Beginning under the presidency of Ronald Reagan (1980–88), Evangelical organisations have received considerable support from the American government. In particular, the Faith-Based and Community Initiatives Act of 2001 provided for the public financing of groups that engaged in proselytism, so long as they also provided social services. To better implement this new law, US Agency for International Development (USAID) opened a Center for Faith Based and Community Initiatives in 2002, with a mandate to encourage the participation of faith-based groups in international assistance (Clarke 2008: 20–21). Jones and Juul Petersen (2011) have reacted to the symbiotic relationship between academic writing and the machinery of development by identifying new and interesting avenues for research. First, rather than studying how religion can support development, they have proposed studying how development has helped transform religious life, especially through the NGO-isation of religion. Second, they have called for more studies based on research conducted directly in the field and with fewer pre-determined theoretical orientations, such as Erica Bornstein’s (2002, 2005) work on World Vision in Zimbabwe. This recommendation also fits with a growing interest in an anthropological approach to the field of ‘religion and development’ (Deneulin and Rakodi 2011; Hefferan et al. 2009). Such an approach should lead to conclusions based on the lived experience of individual societies, rather than on the presuppositions of the development industry. These two concerns lie at the heart of this book,
Introduction 9 which is primarily based on first-hand ethnographic research conducted in Burkina Faso and Côte d’Ivoire. Indeed, the multiplication of fbNGOs throughout Africa has inspired a number of ethnographic studies on organisations active in various parts of the continent. Earlier studies mainly focused on central and southern Africa (Bagenda 1994; Barrow and Jennings 2001; Bornstein 2005; Sadouni 2007, 2009; Salih 2004;), or the Arab and Muslim countries of North Africa (Ben Néfissa et al. 2004; Benthall and Bellion-Jourdan 2003; Ghandour 2002; Sullivan 1995). Furthermore, the majority of empirical studies of fbNGOs in Africa have discussed transnational organisations such as Muslim Aid, Caritas, World Vision and the International Islamic Relief Organization (Benedetti 2006; Berger 2003; Ghandour 2002; Kaag 2007, 2008; Manji and O’Coill 2002). Studies focusing on locally initiated fbNGOs have only recently emerged (Becker 2015; Freeman 2012a; Jones 2015; Mittermaier 2014). These organisations are interesting precisely because they tend to adopt locally defined values and modes of operation, rather than those of international funding agencies, even if they sometimes align themselves with transnational networks and appropriate the discourses of international development. West Africa has been particularly well represented in this new wave of research (Couillard 2013; LeBlanc and Koenig 2014; Gomez-Perez 2011; Kaag and Saint-Lary 2011; Langewiesche 2011; LeBlanc et al. 2013; Sounaye 2011; Vitale 2012), and the ethnographic case studies featured in this book continue in the same streak by focusing on locally initiated fbNGOs. Bolstered by historical research, these case studies make it possible to better grasp the extent to which fbNGOs can develop and perform as civil society actors in the context of the NGO-isation of West African societies.
New Thoughts on Faith-Based NGOs in the Neoliberal Era Anthropologists of religion in the Global South have frequently placed neoliberalism at the heart of their analysis. For instance, Hefferan et al. (2009) have analysed the relationship between fbNGOs and capitalism, discussing how some organisations fully integrate with the neoliberal economy while others represent poles of resistance. The same analytical framework has been adopted by Freeman (2012b) in studying the NGO-isation of Pentecostal churches in Africa. In this way, Evangelical NGOs have largely been seen as vehicles of neoliberalism, providing social services in place of the state and promoting an ethics of capitalist
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accumulation. Other scholars (Barnett and Gross Stein 2012; Bornstein and Redfield 2011) have examined how religious faith supports humanitarian activities. This approach is very promising insofar as it refocuses attention on the intrinsic motivations of religious actors in the field of development. For example, several categories of individuals associated with fbNGOs – including donors, employees, volunteers and beneficiaries – have been studied regarding the extent to which they perceive their activities as a natural extension of their faith. This book builds on these recent works by seeking to better understand the connection between the NGO-isation and changes in religious and social activism. While dynamics of the NGO-isation of political life in Africa and the increasingly religious nature of contexts for collective mobilisation have been highlighted by many authors, the articulation of these two processes has largely been ignored in studies on religion and development. The book directly tackles both of these issues, by seeking to understand how faith-based activism has been transformed by neoliberal ideology and involvement in socioeconomic development, and by showing how local actors see fbNGOs as a tool for social change in a neoliberal context. We posit that fbNGOs provide alternative spaces for social activism, especially in national contexts where authoritarian practices persist (Hilgers and Mazzocchetti 2010) and where many people are seeking to improve both their spiritual and material well-being. We therefore approach the study of fbNGOs by keeping in mind the dialectical relationship between, on the one hand, a dominant neoliberal ideology that encourages the privatisation, individualisation and NGO-isation of social activism, and, on the other hand, religious activists’ use of neoliberal language and practices to help achieve social and religious change. This perspective allows us to better understand the pressure on local faith-based organisations (FBOs) to align their activities with models promoted by global development institutions, as well as the growing religious influence in Burkinabe and Ivorian society. Indeed, NGO-isation appears to deeply change the way religious organisations operate. Most churches, missionary societies and Islamic associations were established for religious reasons, with the objective of reinforcing the faith of believers or gaining new converts. However, through involvement in socioeconomic development, they begin to follow a different logic. The logic of development values efficiency and recognition from outside of the faith community, while encouraging the recruitment of employees based on their professional abilities, as opposed to their religious credentials. The
Introduction 11 chapters that follow show how this logic is reflected in a wide range of attitudes and experiences, from individual religious actors who transform into self-taught development agents to more established institutions like the Catholic development agencies (chapter 4, Audet Gosselin and Koenig). The exigencies of professionalisation also shape the strategies used by the employees and volunteers of fbNGOs, as they navigate a very competitive labour market and deal with difficult economic conditions. Thus, it is important to consider how a wide range of individual actors – from high-ranking officials to rank-and-file volunteers – reconcile religious faith with collective projects and personal strategies. Rather than comparing the attitudes of various groups towards neoliberalism, we are more interested in how individuals active in fbNGOs and the organisations themselves adapt to the modes of neoliberal governance that rule socioeconomic development. Indeed, a focus on the combined process of NGO-isation and growing religious influence points to inherent tensions between, on the one hand, the neoliberal logic of economic growth and, on the other, the logic of proselytism and normative moral discourses. This book puts forward a more nuanced understanding of these seemingly contradictory forces by exploring how fbNGOs are positioned at the crossroads of these two major forces of social transformation. For instance, fbNGOs maintain ambivalent relationships with governments and international funding agencies, that oscillate between complementarity and competition (LeBlanc et al. 2013; see also chapter 2, Savadogo et al.). In some cases, fbNGOs have embraced programmes developed by political authorities or international agencies, sometimes becoming key agents for their implementation. In other cases, fbNGOs have participated in public debates and exerted pressure on political authorities to adopt innovative social legislation (Gomez-Perez 2011). In such contexts, there can be strong competition between different fbNGOs as they try to gain visibility and legitimacy within (rather than outside of) state and international structures (chapter 8, Vitale and chapter 6, Couillard, Madore and Gomez-Perez). Some of the recent changes that have taken place generally in the NGO sector help to mitigate the assumed contradictions between economic growth and normative moral discourses. Bourdarias (2003), among others, has described how many NGOs based in the Global North began as antiestablishment movements that took governments to task for favouring the market economy over social solidarity. However, at the end of the twentieth century, as these same organisations became heavily involved in
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providing humanitarian aid to sub-Saharan Africa, they found themselves collaborating with African states and international agencies to implement neoliberal economic measures, including land acquisition by companies, urban ‘modernisation’ projects, and the expansion of private education and health care. This situation has forced civil society actors to reconcile their traditional frame of reference with the discourses of development and modernisation. Several researchers have highlighted the importance of moral economy to this process, especially when trying to understand development and charitable initiatives launched by religious actors. The concept of moral economy has been used to explain the conflict between traditional ethical attitudes and emerging market-based values associated with modernity (Scott 1976; Thompson 1971). Fassin (2009) has proposed reworking the concept in order to take into account some of the moral issues at play in the present-day economy. Tripp (2006), for instance, has used it in his analysis of the complex tensions and interconnections between modern Islamic thought and capitalism. Similarly, Vitale (2009) has shown how some Islamic leaders readily participate in global capitalism, but use a portion of their earnings for non-rational economic purposes, such as charity or prestige (Triaud and Villalón 2009). Two of the chapters in this book (chapter 8, Vitale; chapter 6, Couillard et al.) address this concept in their analyses of the activities of Muslim NGOs, highlighting how Islamic institutions and leaders follow an economic logic that partly diverges from that of market capitalism. While they embrace the neoliberal economy, these actors redirect part of their wealth towards religious and charitable initiatives. Another point of tension between neoliberalism and religious worldviews that is highlighted in this book is the amalgamation of charity as a disinterested gift, often motivated by religious faith, and the use of fbNGOs as vehicles for personal success. Prince (2015) underscored the need to consider how NGO volunteers themselves understand the opportunities for self-transformation provided by volunteering (professional training, language learning and becoming familiar with white-collar work). Although very few volunteers actually succeed in securing paid employment with NGOs or government agencies, most still have a favourable view of their experiences. More significantly, they see their personal development as beneficial not only to themselves, but to society as a whole. Likewise, Audet Gosselin shows how the opportunities for self-improvement and self-promotion provided by Evangelical NGOs are
Introduction 13 seen as a benefit for both the volunteers they recruit and the populations they serve. In this way, self-transformation bridges the gap between the ethics of volunteerism and the logic of neoliberalism, reconciling disinterested charity with individual success. By reconciling religious affects with the central tenets of neoliberalism (individual success, privatisation), the shift from religious activist to religious entrepreneur emerges as an ideal way of pursuing faith-based social activism in an NGO-ised society (LeBlanc 2012; Couillard et al. chapter 6 in this volume). In a different way, the chapters by Binaté and Koenig (chapters 3 and 9) describe how an ethics of helping others is followed within an entrepreneurial framework. In that vein, both Burkina Faso and Côte d’Ivoire are home to a growing number of business schools and the governments of both countries actively promote entrepreneurship.6 All this has led to the construction of a public discourse that identifies entrepreneurship as the ideal tool for the economic development of two countries deeply affected by economic and political crises.
Côte d’Ivoire and Burkina Faso: Religious Pluralism, Common History and Divergent Politics The similar religious profiles of Burkina Faso and Côte d’Ivoire make them ideal contexts to study the NGO-isation of FBOs. Their geographic proximity, shared history and cultural similarities also make it possible to develop arguments that are tightly focused on the realities of these particular countries, in contrast to many collections on religion and development that juxtapose contexts that are so dissimilar as to make them difficult to contrast. In this way, our approach allows for a much more detailed study of local processes. Furthermore, the similarities between Burkina Faso and Côte d’Ivoire allow for an analysis that is relevant to both countries. Although two of the chapters span the Burkinabe-Ivorian border (see chapter 2, Savadogo et al. and chapter 4, Audet Gosselin and Koenig), our objective is not to provide a comparative study of the development of fbNGOs in two national contexts. Rather, while taking into account differences between the two countries, we approach both of them as societies that are deeply involved in the neoliberal economy, that are undergoing parallel transformations and where FBOs face similar challenges.
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The links between the two countries are numerous and have deep historical roots. The Burkinabe-Ivorian border divides regions that were culturally or politically integrated before the colonial era. For example, the Kong Empire spanned both sides of the present-day border, and these regions retain commercial, cultural and religious ties (Werthmann 2012). Similarly, in the late nineteenth century, Samory Touré’s Wassoulou Empire encompassed both northern Côte d’Ivoire and western Burkina Faso. France began its colonisation of coastal Côte d’Ivoire in 1842 and established the territory’s current borders in 1894. The regions that would form Upper Volta – present-day Burkina Faso – fell under French control in 1896–97, and the territory’s current borders were established in 1919. The colony of Upper Volta was dismantled in 1932, and most of its territory was incorporated into Côte d’Ivoire. In addition to recognising that Upper Volta was economically unprofitable on its own, this decision reflected the strong economic ties between the two territories. Côte d’Ivoire was mainly developed around a plantation economy, producing coffee, cocoa and palm oil. The soil was much poorer in Upper Volta, where subsistence agriculture predominated, despite some attempts at cotton farming. As a result, Côte d’Ivoire’s plantations became a common destination for young Voltaics in search of higher wages. Young people and peasants from Upper Volta (and later Burkina Faso) moved back and forth across the border, establishing a pattern that continued until the 1990s and created a very large diaspora. In 1998, an estimated 2,238,548 individuals of Burkinabe origin were living in Côte d’Ivoire (Zongo 2003). Historically, remittances from relatives in Côte d’Ivoire have been a crucial source of revenue for families in Burkina Faso. Although Upper Volta was recreated in 1947, the decade and a half spent under the same colonial administration created strong political ties between the two territories. Between 1945 and 1947, both territories were grouped under the same electoral constituencies, and political leaders campaigned on both sides of the present-day border. This experience showed that the same political ideas could resonate with the population in both territories, and supported the rise of the Rassemblement démocratique Africain (RDA) on both sides of the border. Founded by Ivorian politician Félix Houphouët-Boigny, this party remained the dominant political force in Côte d’Ivoire from the late 1940s to the mid 1990s, and in Upper Volta from the late 1950s until 1980. Following independence, both countries joined Niger and Dahomey (renamed Benin in 1975) in a loose political
Introduction 15 alliance called the Conseil de l’Entente, in which Côte d’Ivoire was the clear economic leader. Relations between the two countries quickly deteriorated after August 1983, when the Conseil national de la revolution (CNR, National Council for the Revolution) was established in Upper Volta. The new political regime, led by the charismatic Captain Thomas Sankara, sought to radically transform the country’s political and economic structures. Upper Volta was renamed Burkina Faso in 1984, in a move to distance the country from its colonial past. Meanwhile, Sankara openly criticised Ivorian President Houphouët-Boigny for allegedly catering to French and other ‘neocolonial’ interests. While relations improved after President Blaise Compaoré took power in Burkina Faso in 1987, tensions gradually reappeared in the 1990s, as nativist discourses gained prominence and discriminatory policies were implemented in Côte d’Ivoire. Indeed, debates on ivoirité (Ivorian national identity) proved increasingly troublesome for the Burkinabe community in Côte d’Ivoire. In 1999, several Burkinabe nationals were killed in the Tabou region, prompting an exodus ‘back’ to Burkina Faso, a country many of the migrants had never seen. President Compaoré capitalised on the situation, using expressions of nationalism to quell civil unrest against his own repressive regime (Banégas and Otayek 2003). The political and military crisis that rocked Côte d’Ivoire from 2002 to 2011 also had a deep impact on Burkina Faso and its diaspora. Ivorian President Laurent Gbagbo based part of his political strategy on anti-immigrant rhetoric, and Burkina Faso directly supported the armed rebellion launched against Gbagbo in 2002. Bilateral relations have improved since the installation of Alassane Dramane Ouattara – who was backed by the Burkinabe government – as President of Côte d’Ivoire in 2011. More recently, significant tensions have re-emerged because of Ouattara’s continued support for Compaoré, who was ousted in October 2014, and alleged Ivorian support for the failed military coup of September 2015 in Burkina Faso. All in all, this combination of mutual dependence and rivalry provides a fascinating background for the development of fbNGOs in these two countries. In spite of their shared political history, there are also striking differences between Burkina Faso and Côte d’Ivoire. This is especially true of the economic domain, which is crucial for understanding the development of NGOs. Prior to the outbreak of civil war in 2002, Côte d’Ivoire was, by West African standards, a relatively wealthy nation. It enjoyed significant income from exports of coffee, cocoa and, more recently, petroleum. These revenues had fallen along with commodity prices at the end of the 1970s,
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prompting the IMF to impose a structural adjustment plan. The plan had a tremendous impact on the standard of living of ordinary Ivorians, especially through significant reductions in state funding for health and education, and the devaluation of the CFA franc in 1994.7 However, the political and military crisis that began in 2002 is what really prompted a massive influx of foreign NGOs, and inspired Ivorian citizens to create organisations that could fill the void in social services left by a crumbling state apparatus and the division of the country into two administrative zones between 2004 and 2008. Officially, the Ivorian civil war lasted from 2002 until the creation of the United Nations Operation in Côte d’Ivoire (UNOCI) in February 2004. Still, the disputed election of current President Alassane Dramane Ouattara sparked outbreaks of violence between December 2010 and April 2011, in what has been called the country’s ‘second civil war’. During this period, the southern part of the country (south of Yamassoukro) remained under the control of President Laurent Gbagbo, while Guillaume Soro’s Forces nouvelles ruled the North from their base in Bouaké. According to the World Bank, the per capita gross national income (GNI) for Côte d’Ivoire was US$1450 in 2014, which is below the sub-Saharan average. This can largely be explained by the political and military crises of the previous decade.8 By contrast, Burkina Faso has always been a very poor country, with a per capita GNI of US$700 20149 and a consistently low rank on the United Nations Development Programme’s Human Development Index (UNDP 2015). The Burkinabe government, which is highly dependent on foreign aid, especially from France, introduced austerity measures as early as 1966. Budgetary restrictions were therefore a prominent political issue long before the first SAP of 1991 (Zagré 1994). With little economic activity beyond subsistence agriculture, Burkina Faso depends on rainfall for the survival of large parts of its population. In 1973–74, a severe drought in the Sahel region triggered widespread famine in Mali, Upper Volta and Niger. As a result, Upper Volta was forced to seek emergency assistance, especially from international NGOs. The presence of NGOs was reinforced in the 1980s, during the Sankara regime, which tried to diversify the government’s economic partners. In 1984, the CNR created the Bureau de suivi des ONG (BSONG), an agency responsible for aligning the activities of foreign and local aid organisations with the government’s development objectives. Currently, both Burkina Faso and Côte d’Ivoire are experiencing rapid demographic growth. With high birth rates, both countries have very young populations, and roughly 75 per cent of citizens
Introduction 17 are under 35. Côte d’Ivoire had a total population of 23 million inhabitants in 2014, a sharp increase from 15 million in 1998 (Côte d’Ivoire 2015). Burkina Faso had a population of roughly 17.5 million inhabitants in 2014,10 up from 14 million in 2006 and 10 million in 1996 (Burkina Faso 2009a). Finally, political liberalisation during the 1990s led to the creation of hundreds of new voluntary associations in both countries. Many of these groups became involved in humanitarian aid and socioeconomic development. This growth in the NGO sector occurred alongside a profound religious transformation in Côte d’Ivoire and Burkina Faso that began in the 1980s. This revival touched both the Christian and Muslim communities, and paralleled developments in other African countries.
Studying the Development of FBOs in Côte d’Ivoire and Burkina Faso This book explores the development of fbNGOs through historical and ethnographic case studies of Catholic, Evangelical and Muslim organisations, most of which grew out of local initiatives.11 This comprehensive approach stands in contrast to most existing ethnographic research on fbNGOs, which focus on a single religious denomination, reflecting the largely separate academic traditions interested in religion in Africa (Benthall 2006; Bornstein 2005; Folley 2010; Freeman 2012a; Igoe and Kelsall 2005; Kaag 2007, 2008; Michael 2004; Obadare 2005; Raghavan 1992; Renders 2002; Vuarin 1990; Yaro 1998). While this work has produced deep and valuable knowledge related to individual faiths and religious movements, it fails to appreciate how very similar processes of NGO-isation occur across religious boundaries in pluralistic societies, such as those of Côte d’Ivoire and Burkina Faso. Granted, in the last decade a few studies have tried to tackle the question of religious pluralism in West Africa. For example, Soares (2006) has sought to understand the various points of contact between Muslims and Christians from a historical and anthropological perspective. Larkin and Meyer (2006) have shown how the development of Evangelical Christianity and Salafi Islam are based, in part, on similar critical standpoints regarding culture. Finally, de Bruijn and van Dijk (2009) have explored how Pentecostal and Islamic Sufi ethical obligations related to charity have had only a limited impact on socioeconomic development, because they are primarily fulfilled out of a desire to act according to religious principles and ensure salvation in the afterlife. This book takes a slightly different approach. Rather than comparing different religious approaches
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to charity and development, it seeks to understand why a similar process of NGO-isation has occurred across religious divides, while still taking into account national and religious difference. Burkina Faso and Côte d’Ivoire offer ideal contexts for rethinking the development of fbNGOs in pluralistic societies. But whereas most related studies distinguish between Christians and Muslims in West Africa, we believe that a proper understanding of religious pluralism in these two countries requires a tripartite distinction between Muslims, Catholics and Evangelicals.12 Indeed, while Muslims tend to think of themselves as a single group – despite the wide spectrum of Islamic movements (see chapter 8, Vitale) – Catholics and Evangelicals see each other as belonging to separate religions. Furthermore, they are classified as such by political authorities (LeBlanc et al. 2013). In both Burkina Faso and Côte d’Ivoire, Muslims are the largest of these three groups, representing 60.5 per cent of the population of Burkina Faso (Burkina Faso 2009a) and 42 per cent in Côte d’Ivoire (Jeune Afrique 2015). Historically, Islam has had a strong presence in the Dioula region,13 which encompasses northern Côte d’Ivoire and western Burkina Faso. The cross-border movements of Burkinabe migrants have helped reinforce these religious ties, and Islam has traditionally been a common touchstone for members of the diaspora, many of whom converted after arriving in Côte d’Ivoire. In both countries, Islam has undergone important changes since the late twentieth century, a reflection of global trends within the Muslim world. Examples include the rise of intellectuals educated in Arab countries (Binaté 2012; Cissé 1990; LeBlanc 2009; Ouédraogo, 2000), the emergence of ‘reformist’ movements that promote orthodoxy and criticise older practices associated with the Sufi brotherhoods (Kobo 2012; LeBlanc 1998; Miran 2006), quantitative and qualitative changes in Islamic education (LeBlanc and Binaté 2012; Ouédraogo 2015), a return to Islamic practice by French-speaking graduates of the public education system (Saint-Lary 2011), greater visibility for Islam in the public sphere and the media (Savadogo and Gomez-Perez 2011), and increased participation by women and youth in Islamic activism (Audet Gosselin 2013; LeBlanc 2014; LeBlanc and Gomez-Perez 2012; Saint-Lary 2011). The Société des missions africaines (SMA) sent its first Catholic missionaries to Côte d’Ivoire in 1895, answering a call from the newly established colonial administration to create schools (Desalmand 1983; Gantly 2010; Trichet 1994). In Burkina Faso, the White Fathers began setting up missionary posts in 1900, once again shortly after the estab-
Introduction 19 lishment of a colonial administration. Both missionary societies targeted ‘animist’ populations for evangelisation, and used social services such as education and health care to attract converts. However, the conversion of significant parts of the population has largely been a postcolonial trend. Indeed, only 3 per cent of the Burkinabe population and 12 per cent of the Ivorian population (Miran 2006: 72) was Catholic at independence, whereas these figures had risen to 19 and 20 per cent by the early twenty-first century. Nevertheless, the political elites of both countries have traditionally been Catholic, and Catholicism remains closely associated with political power. Historically, Protestant missions have been much less visible and powerful than their Catholic counterparts. According to available statistics (Burkina Faso 2009a; Côte d’Ivoire 2015), Protestants make up 4.5 per cent of the Burkinabe population and about 17 per cent of the Ivorian population. However, their influence in both countries far exceeds what these numbers might suggest. The visibility of Protestant churches and the commitment of their followers have made them major players on the religious landscape. In colonial Upper Volta, Evangelical missions were first established in the 1920s and 1930s – the Assemblies of God in 1921, the Christian and Missionary Alliance in 1923, and the Sudan Interior Mission in 1932. However, their influence remained very limited until the end of the twentieth century, when the Assemblies of God church emerged as the largest Protestant denomination and began to exert influence on the religious, social and political life of the country (Laurent 2009). Several neo-Pentecostal movements have also flourished outside the historical mission churches (Fancello 2006; Samson 2008). They share a commitment to the ‘prosperity gospel’, which promises material success as a reward for sincere faith (Coleman 2000; Hackett 1995). The prosperity gospel is key to understanding activities related to economic development because of its connection to the neoliberal principles of individual success and accumulation. Prosperity churches have developed particularly rapidly in Côte d’Ivoire, in part due to the lack of a strongly established Protestant church. British Methodists founded a mission there in 1914, leading to the development of the country’s current United Methodist Church. However, this ‘mainline’ church has lost much of its influence to unaffiliated Protestant congregations and religious entrepreneurs. Côte d’Ivoire also has a long history of independent prophets, starting with the Harrist movement, which saw a charismatic prophet gain a significant
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following and shake traditional beliefs in the 1930s (Dozon 1995; Shank 1994). Protestant churches in Burkina Faso, including the Assemblies of God, have also been active among the diaspora in Côte d’Ivoire and have gained cross-border influence (Laurent 2005). Former President Laurent Gbagbo was an outspoken Evangelical Christian, who believed his legitimacy divinely based (N’Guessan 2015).
Organisation and Content An Overview of the Book This book is a mix between an edited collection and a monograph. Its coherence rests on the fact that six of the eight empirical chapters are based on field research conducted as part of a collective research project led by Marie Nathalie LeBlanc. This project, titled ‘Religion, civil society, and development: The case of religious NGOs in West Africa’, was funded by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada. Binaté and Vitale, whose research was not conducted as part of the project, nevertheless share a similar perspective to the other authors. The empirical research underlying all of the chapters encompassed ethnographic field research, including participant observation, interviews of various types, including semi-directed interviews, life stories, informal discussions and group discussions, and archival research. In the different chapters, data is mainly presented in the form of detailed case studies, personal portraits and descriptions of the careers of NGO leaders. The eight chapters that make up the body of the book are divided into two parts. The three chapters in Part 1 (‘Religion, Politics and Development: NGO-isation and Religious Influence in the Twenty-first Century’) draw attention to intersecting processes and include a comparative dimension that is both diachronic and synchronic. All three primarily rely on exploratory and archival research. They aim to provide a broader perspective on fbNGOs, both by discussing a wide range of organisations and by exploring the historical context of faith-based development. The second chapter is by Mathias Savadogo, Muriel Gomez-Perez and Marie Nathalie LeBlanc. It gives a general view of the relationship between Muslim NGOs and the state in Senegal, Burkina Faso and Côte d’Ivoire. The discussion focuses on the degree of autonomy enjoyed by Muslim NGOs in relation to the state, often expressed in terms of a tension between partnership and competition. The analysis draws attention to religious differences within
Introduction 21 Muslim NGOs, as well as the influence of national politics. While the book primarily focuses on Burkina Faso and Côte d’Ivoire, the inclusion of data collected during field research in Senegal helps draw attention to some of the dynamics that are specific to the former countries. Whereas Senegal has an overwhelming Muslim majority, the Burkinabe and Ivorian contexts are defined by religious pluralism. Furthermore, debates regarding the place of religion in the public sphere and civil society that have occurred in Senegal since the late 1970s only started to appear in Burkina Faso and Côte d’Ivoire in the 1990s. Chapter 3, by Issouf Binaté, provides a more detailed examination of humanitarian initiatives launched by Muslim groups following the outbreak of the Ivorian civil war in 2002. On the one hand, Binaté shows how community leaders moved quickly to organise help for their fellow Muslims, as well as the broader population. On the other hand, he underscores the extent to which these actors were dependent on external funding agencies, a situation that limited their ability to gain the technical and professional know-how necessary to secure long-term funding. The final chapter of Part 1, co-authored by Louis Audet Gosselin and Boris Koenig (chapter 4), analyses the activities of Catholic NGOs in Côte d’Ivoire and Burkina Faso, highlighting both commonalities and differences across the two national contexts. In both countries, the earliest faith-based development initiatives were undertaken during the colonial period by Catholic missionaries. This pioneering role gave Catholic institutions a clear advantage compared to other faiths. Catholic NGOs still play a leading role in development initiatives, but with varying success. While the Catholic Church in Burkina Faso has successfully partnered with other organisations and taken advantage of opportunities offered by neoliberal economic policies, Ivorian Catholics remain dependent on the support of external agencies managed by the Vatican. Although there may appear to be a relatively small number of new locally initiated Catholic NGOs, their history of collaboration with the state and the presence of large centralised Catholic aid agencies give them an advantage compared to local Evangelical and Muslim NGOs. The five chapters in Part 2 (‘Religious Actors and the Making of NGOs’) focus on detailed case studies that shed light on the dialectic between NGO-isation and growing religious influence. They also underscore how different religious and national contexts can either encourage or discourage the emergence of new forms of social action and citizenship. Chapter 5, based on long-term ethnographic research conducted by Marie Nathalie LeBlanc, traces the evolution of women’s associations
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in Côte d’Ivoire since 1990. These associations have gone through successive phases of legal and political institutionalisation, Islamisation and NGO-isation. The author has been able to witness first-hand many of the dynamics described elsewhere in the book. More specifically, the case studies she provides suggest an appropriation by popular-class actors of the neoliberal logic that currently dominates socioeconomic development. Her chapter also highlights how social class and access to patronage networks affect the ability of an NGO to secure funding and pursue development projects. Chapter 6, by Kathery Couillard, Frédéric Madore and Muriel Gomez-Perez, studies the leadership of Muslim NGOs in Burkina Faso and discusses how their economic, social and religious activities demonstrate that Islam provides a vehicle for the exercise of new forms of active citizenship and voluntary action in the public sphere. The authors also show how Muslim leaders can be considered social entrepreneurs, insofar as they successfully leverage religious credentials, languages of socioeconomic development, international connections and political strategies. In chapter 7, Louis Audet Gosselin analyses the activities of Ouagadougou Evangelical organisations that specialise in helping orphans and vulnerable children. The chapter discusses the tension between a religiously motivated desire to help vulnerable groups and the pragmatic use of fbNGOs by Evangelical youth in search of upward mobility. Audet Gosselin explains how these organisations subscribe to a Christian and holistic notion of development that helps resolve this tension by casting the individual success of beneficiaries, volunteers and leaders as contributions to the collective good. Chapter 8, by Mara Vitale, focuses on two Muslim leaders who have founded successful NGOs and who are seen by political authorities as essential development partners. Their activities illustrate how participation in development projects has become a key condition for recognition as a religious leader. Vitale uses the notion of the moral economy to help explain the activities of NGOs both inside and outside the global market economy, showing how the two men she discusses have successfully positioned themselves at the intersection of religion, entrepreneurship and charity. Furthermore, by focusing on Sufi leaders, she challenges the standard view that international Muslim humanitarian networks are dominated by Salafis from the Gulf countries. Finally, in chapter 9, Boris Koenig explores the assistance programmes developed by an Evangelical NGO in Côte d’Ivoire. This transnational Christian organisation is dedicated to the holistic rehabilitation of socially marginalised people. Koenig describes how it pursues a very strict
Introduction 23 approach to the rehabilitation of criminals, drug addicts and alcoholics. In doing so, the NGO supports the development of an alternative social model based on ‘Christian citizenship’. This chapter underscores that ‘development’ can take on a very specific meaning within a framework based almost entirely on faith-based logic. It also shows how, contrary to most of the cases presented in the other chapters, proselytism remains a central objective of some Evangelical organisations. The case studies discussed in this book provide a vast array of examples that generally point to practices that combine neoliberal logics and faith-based social activism. In both countries and across all faiths, entrepreneurial strategies and the use of private assets are at the core of humanitarian actions. However, the entrepreneurship tied to fbNGOs’ activities appeals to a ‘moral’ dimension, which points to the emergence of an ethics of volunteerism. As the conclusion of the book highlights in more detail, such an ethics relies on the idea that the human and social capital invested in humanitarian actions is embedded within criteria of professionalism and expertise as well as good moral intentions. As a consequence, the benefits of volunteerism are understood in terms of a combination of personal opportunity for social and economic improvement, community development and moral enhancement.