here - Canadian journal of nonprofit and social economy research

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 Volume 1 Number 1/ numéro 1 Fall / Automne 2010 www.anserj.ca Official journal of the
Association of Nonprofit and Social Economy Research (ANSER)
Revue officielle de
l’Association de recherche sur les organismes sans but lucratif et l’économie sociale
(ARES) Vol. 1, No 1
Fall / Automne 2010
1–7
Canadian Journal of Nonprofit and Social Economy Research
Revue canadienne de recherche sur les OSBL et l’économie sociale
Editors / Rédacteurs en chef
Peter R. Elson
Mount Royal University
Francois Brouard
Carleton University
English Language Editor
Rédacteur en chef francophone
Editorial Board / Comité de rédaction
Book Review Associate Editor / Rédacteur adjoint de compte-rendu
J.J. McMurtry
York University
English Book Review
René Lachapelle
Université du Québec en Outaouais Compte-rendu francophone
Marie J. Bouchard
Louise Briand
Leslie Brown
Raymond Dart
Jean-Marc Fontan
Eric Forgues
Corinne Gendron
John Loxley
Michael Hall
Margaret Harris
Tessa Hebb
Evert Lindquist
Roger Lohmann
Ian Macpherson
Judith Madill
Agnes Meinhard
Vic Murray
Adam Parachin
Susan Philips
Jack Quarter
Steven Rathgeb Smith
Joanne Turbide
Université du Québec à Montréal
Université du Québec en Outaouais
Mount Saint Vincent University
Trent University
Université de Moncton
University of Manitoba
Consultant
Aston University, UK
Carleton University
University of Victoria
West Virginia University, USA
University of Ottawa
Ryerson University
University of Western Ontario
Carleton University
University of Toronto
University of Washington, USA
HEC Montréal
Journal Management Committee / Comité de gestion de la revue
Francois Brouard, Peter R. Elson, René Lachapelle, JJ McMurtry,
Jack Quarter (President, ANSER/ARES), Luc Theriault (Vice-President, ANSER/ARES)
Managing Editor / Directrice de la rédaction
Marilyn Bittman
CCSP Press, Simon Fraser University
Detailed instructions for contributors and submission guidelines available at www.ANSERJ.ca.
Comments or queries should be submitted to [email protected]
Vol. 1, No 1
Fall / Autumne 2010
pp.1-7
Table of Contents / Table des matières
Éditorial / Editorial
3–7
Articles / Árticles
An Interactive View of the Social Economy
Jack Quarter & Laurie Mook
8 – 22
Voices from the Margins: Policy Advocacy
and Marginalized Communities
Gloria DeSantis
23 – 45
Entrepreneuriat Social et Participation Citoyenne
François Brouard, Sophie Larivet, & Ouafa Sakka
46 – 64
Motivations and Benefits of Student Volunteering:
Comparing Regular, Occasional, and Non-Profit
Volunteers in Five Countries
Karen Smith, Kirsten Holmes, Debbie Haski-Leventhal,
Ram A Cnaan, Femida Handy, & Jeffrey L Brudney
65 – 81
“Not Just an Apartment Building”: Residents’
Quality of Life in a Social Housing Co-operative Luc Thériault, André Leclerc, Angela Eileen Wisniewski,
Omer Chouinard, & Gilles Martin
82 – 100
Book Reviews / Compte-rendus
Understanding the Social Economy: A Canadian Perspective
edited by Jack Quarter, Laurie Mook, & Ann Armstrong
reviewed by Jorge Sousa
101 – 102
Entreprises collectives. Les enjeux sociopolitiques
et territoriaux de la coopération et de l’économie
sociale by Louis Favreau
reviewed by Ernesto Molina
103 – 104
Living Economics: Canadian Perspectives
on the Social Economy, Co-operatives, and
Community Economic Development edited by J J. McMurtry
reviewed by Marcelo Vieta
105 – 109
The Worth of the Social Economy: An International
Perspective. Edited by Marie J. Bouchard. Social
Economy & Public Economy, 2
reviewed by Stephan Dobson
110 – 113
Éditorial / Editorial (2010)
Vol. 1, No 1
Fall / Autumne 2010
3–7
ÉDITORIAL / EDITORIAL
Une nouvelle revue – Un
nouveau depart
A new journal – A new
beginning
François BROUARD, DBA, CA
Sprott School of Business, Carleton University, Ottawa, Canada
[email protected]
Peter R. ELSON, PhD
Institute for Nonprofit Studies, Mount Royal University, Calgary, Canada
[email protected]
Avec la parution d’une nouvelle revue, il est
de mise de se poser quelques questions et de
la positionner dans le paysage de la
recherche. Notre objectif dans cet éditorial
est de vous faire part de quelques unes de
nos réflexions et décisions.
It may seem brash for a three-year old
association to launch a peer-reviewed, open
access, dual-language journal, but
ANSER/ARES has a reputation for having a
very short time span between idea and
action. It was only in November of 2007 that
the idea of a Canadian based association of
nonprofit and social economy researchers
was launched.
By June of 2008 we hosted our first
conference in Vancouver at the Congress for
the Humanities and Social Sciences and have
never looked back. ANSER/ARES By-Laws,
a Board of Directors, and registration as a
federally incorporated nonprofit are now all
in place. We have members from almost
every province and a sixteen-member Board
of Directors who work hard to make
ANSER/ARES an active community of
nonprofit and social economy researchers.
Now, at the end of 2010, ANSERJ begins.
3
Tout d’abord le titre
Revue canadienne de recherche sur les
OSBL et l’économie sociale (ANSERJ)
First the title
Canadian journal of nonprofit and social
economy research (ANSERJ)
Il faut bien l’avouer, le titre est un peu long.
En plus, il se retrouve en anglais et en
français. C’est pourquoi, pour des raisons
d’image et de branding, ANSERJ a été
choisi pour abréger le titre de la revue et ce,
autant en français qu’en anglais. ANSERJ
est la revue officielle de l’Association de
recherche sur les organismes sans but
lucratif et l’économie sociale (ARES).
Reprenant le nom anglophone et la signature
graphique de l’Association qui l’appuie,
nous espérons que le logo de la revue
permettra de l’identifier rapidement.
Both the formal title of the journal and the
short version (ANSERJ) serve a number of
purposes. The journal is the official journal
of the Association for Nonprofit and Social
Economy Research (ANSER) under whose
auspices we operate. ANSERJ is an easy
name to remember and reflects our on-line
only presence.
Pourquoi une nouvelle revue?
Why a new journal?
ANSERJ s’emploie à fournir une tribune
stimulante pour la diffusion publique de
recherches contemporaines de haute qualité
sur les organismes sans but lucratif (OSBL)
et l’économie sociale. Cette revue a été créée
dans le but d’accroître et de renforcer la
valeur des réseaux de recherche sur les
OSBL et l’économie sociale au Canada et
ailleurs dans le monde.
ANSERJ is dedicated to providing a
stimulating and vibrant forum for the open
dissemination of contemporary high-quality,
peer-reviewed research on non-profits and
the social economy. This journal is intended
to contribute to extending and linking the
value of nonprofit and social economy
research relationships across Canada and
throughout the world.
ANSERJ est une publication bilingue
(anglais et français) avec comité de lecture,
offerte en ligne et à libre-accès.
ANSERJ is an online open access English
and French peer-review publication.
La revue possède une série de
caractéristiques qui lui sont propres et qui lui
donnent sa couleur et permettent de
comprendre la raison d’être de la nouvelle
revue.
4
Il s’agit d’une revue de recherche avec
comité de lecture. La revue bénéficie d’un
solide comité de rédaction qui participe par
leur travail et leur crédibilité à la qualité de
la revue. Elle publie des articles originaux,
tant en français qu’en anglais. Elle publie
aussi des comptes-rendus de lecture. Se
faisant, la revue offre une tribune pour
diffuser la recherche de qualité.
Il s’agit d’une revue principalement
canadienne. Bien entendu, la revue n’entend
pas écarter les contributions provenant du
monde entier, mais la priorité sera
probablement de favoriser les recherches
provenant de chercheurs canadiens ou
utilisant des données canadiennes. Il s’agit
un peu de prendre acte des deux solitudes
canadiennes que nous essayons de
rapprocher dans la mesure de nos moyens.
Comme vous pouvez le constater à la lecture
de cet éditorial, du site web et de l’ensemble
des communications, le caractère bilingue de
la revue est une caractéristique importante.
Cette caractéristique devrait permettre de
favoriser l’échange de connaissances entre le
monde anglophone et francophone.
ANSERJ has been deliberately established
as an open access dual language journal.
First, we believe strongly that research has
the power to not only inform, but also to
transform. Second, the more practitioners
and academics alike, who have an
opportunity to read, reflect and act on high
quality research, the better.
It is our mission to bring you the best and
most relevant nonprofit and social economy
research possible. We do have a Canadian
bias. ANSERJ wants to become the journal
of choice for Canadian researchers and
others who want to compare their country to
Canada. We publish articles in either French
or English with abstracts in both languages.
This dual language focus is an integral part
of ANSERJ and what Canada is as a
country.
Profitant des nouvelles technologies, la
revue veut en profiter. Elle est ainsi offerte
en ligne et en libre-accès. Nous sommes
toutefois conscients des défis que cela
amène.
5
ANSERJ se veut multidisciplinaire, mais
aussi interdisciplinaire. La revue accueillera
des articles de haute qualité sur la recherche
théorique, empirique ou appliquée, qui
présentent tant le point de vue des praticiens
que celui des chercheurs. ANSERJ compte
ainsi explorer activement la relation
dynamique entre la théorie et la pratique.
ANSERJ is multi-disciplinary, as well as
interdisciplinary. High quality theoretically
based, empirically grounded research and
applied research from different perspectives
are welcome to further the frontiers between
theory and practice.
Voici quelques exemples de nos domaines
d’intérêt : la gestion des organismes sans but
lucratif, la gouvernance, la philanthropie, les
organismes de bienfaisance, la collecte de
fonds, le bénévolat et les dons, l’économie
sociale, les entreprises sociales,
l’entrepreneuriat social, le développement
économique communautaire et international,
les coopératives d’épargne et de crédit, le
tiers secteur, le secteur bénévole et
communautaire, la société civile, la
responsabilité sociale, le développement
durable, la participation des citoyens, les
mouvements sociaux, l’innovation sociale,
les relations entre les secteurs privé et
public, la comptabilité sociale et
environnementale, ainsi que les politiques.
Examples of the areas of interest are:
management of nonprofit organizations,
governance, philanthropy, charities,
fundraising, volunteering and giving, social
economy, social enterprises, social
entrepreneurship, community and
international economic development, cooperatives, third sector, voluntary sector,
civil society, social responsibility,
sustainability, citizen engagement, social
movements, social innovation, public and
private sector relationships, social and
environmental accounting, and policy.
Notre objectif est de toucher à une grande
variété de domaines de recherche,
notamment, la gestion et le management,
l’administration publique, la sociologie,
l’anthropologie, l’économie, le travail social,
l’histoire, le droit, l’éducation, la
psychologie, les sciences politiques et la
philosophie.
Our vision is to embrace a variety of
scholarly fields including business and
management, public administration,
sociology, anthropology, economics, social
work, history, law, education psychology,
political science, and philosophy.
Avec ce premier numéro, il s’agit du début
d’un projet porté à bout de bras par quelques
personnes en plus des deux rédacteurs en
chef. Le président de l’association
ANSER/ARES, Jack Quarter, doit être
mentionné en premier lieu pour sa vision, ses
efforts et sa persévérance. Luc Thériault et JJ
McMurthy font aussi partie de l’équipe de
base de ce projet. René Lachapelle s’est
ajouté plus récemment à cette équipe de
bâtisseur.
ANSERJ is proud to have a highly engaged
Management Committee and an excellent
Editorial Board who act as ambassadors for
the journal, review articles, and help to bring
ANSERJ to the attention of established and
emerging scholars.
6
La revue bénéficie du parrainage de centres
de recherche provenant de quatre universités,
soit Institute for Nonprofit Studies, Mount
Royal University, the Social Economy
Centre, University of Toronto, the Canadian
Social economy Hub, University of Victoria
et Centre Sprott pour les entreprises sociales
/ Sprott Centre for Social Enterprises,
Carleton University. L’aide fournie permet
de rendre la revue disponible en libre-accès.
We are also grateful for the financial
contribution from the Institute for Nonprofit
Studies, Mount Royal University, the Social
Economy Centre, University of Toronto, the
Canadian Social economy Hub, University
of Victoria the Sprott Centre for Social
Enterprises / Centre Sprott pour les
entreprises sociales, Carleton University. It
is their contribution which has made this
open access format possible.
Cette revue est la vôtre. Il faut que tous les
membres se l’approprient. En la lisant, en
soumettant le fruit de leurs recherches, en
participant au processus d’évaluation des
articles, en nous faisant parvenir vos
commentaires et suggestions, votre
contribution est essentielle au succès futur.
With this first edition of ANSERJ we
declare another new beginning for ANSER,
but even more importantly, it marks the
beginning of what we hope to be a rewarding
and fruitful relationship with you, readers
and researchers from across Canada and
around the world.
7
Quarter and Mook (2010)
Vol. 1, No 1
Fall / Automne 2010
8 – 22
An Interactive View of the Social Economy
Jack Quarter
Social Economy Centre, University of Toronto
Laurie Mook
Arizona State University
ABSTRACT
In general, the emphasis of social economy theorists has been sectoral; that is, research has emphasized
the uniqueness of the social economy, almost as if it is a world apart from the rest of society. This article,
in contrast, focuses on the differing forms of interaction between the social economy and other parts of
society. The authors use a Venn diagram to illustrate differing forms of interaction between the social
economy and other parts of society, and also the fluidity of the social economy. The model presented
assumes that the social economy is embedded within society, and some players within the social
economy support social norms and others challenge these norms and present a transformative vision.
RÉSUMÉ
Généralement, les théoriciens de l’économie sociale se concentrent sur l’approche sectorielle, c’est-àdire que leurs recherches soulignent le caractère unique de l’économie sociale, presque comme s’il
s’agissait d’un monde en marge du reste de la société. Par contraste, cet article envisage les diverses
formes que peut prendre l’interaction entre l’économie sociale et les autres sphères de la société. Pour
illustrer ces différentes formes d’interaction ainsi que la fluidité de l’économie sociale, les auteurs ont
utilisé un diagramme de Venn. Le modèle présenté tient pour acquis que l’économie sociale est partie
intégrante de la société. Alors que certains acteurs de l’économie sociale défendent l’existence de
normes sociales, d’autres mettent ces normes en doute et proposent plutôt une vision transformatrice.
Keywords / Mots clés
Social economy; Nonprofits; Co-operatives; Social enterprises; Civil society / Économie sociale;
Organismes sans but lucratif; Coopératives; Entreprises sociales; Société civile
8
INTRODUCTION
Much research on the social economy has focused on its distinct characteristics. A comprehensive review
of the literature by Bouchard, Ferreton, & Michaud (2006) indicates that three general approaches are
used: (1) a focus upon the types of organization (e.g., co-operatives, nonprofit mutual associations); (2) a
focus on rules of operation (e.g., one member/one vote); and (3) a variation of the second category that
addresses values (democratic decision-making).
Research on these characteristics of the social economy, or what we label as a sectoral approach, is
complemented by related work on the characteristics of nonprofits, charitable organizations, civil society,1
and co-operatives.2 Some of this writing is utopian and envisages the social economy becoming the
dominant influence in society (Shragge & Fontan, 2000) or speaks of the “co-operative commonwealth”
(Webb & Webb, 1920, 1921) that would become the prevailing mode of socio-economic structure.
We are not attempting to diminish the importance of this form of research. Distinct organizational forms
exist within the social economy, and understanding their characteristics is important. However, our
concern about this sectoral line of discourse is that it tends to view the social economy and its related
organizations as isolated from the rest of society. This article aims to present an inclusive and relational
approach to interpreting the social economy—not one that tries to understand its distinctive features (i.e.,
a sectoral approach), but rather one that attempts to portray how the social economy interacts with and
relates to the private and public sectors. Very little of this form of conceptualization has been developed
in Canada, where sectoral approaches appear to prevail, though there are international examples of
interactive approaches, which we will briefly discuss.
With respect to nonprofits, one subset of the social economy, two interactive approaches are marketfailure theory and interdependence theory. Market-failure theory suggests that nonprofits emerge where
the private market does not serve communities of interest adequately (Ben-Ner, 1986; Hansmann, 1980;
Weisbrod, 1974, 1977). Salamon (1987, 1995) argues that market-failure is an inadequate
conceptualization and theorizes that nonprofits emerge through a partnership or interdependent
relationship between government and community organizations, each bringing its distinct strengths to the
relationship. Recent research by Quarter, Mook, & Hann (in press) suggests that interdependence theory,
rather than market-failure theory, may explain why co-operatives in Canada have emerged in urban
settings where partnerships with government prevail.
One of the strongest international interactive theorists is Evers (1995), who refers to the third sector as a
mixed welfare system consisting of the market, state, and informal private households. Evers further
questions whether there is a distinct third sector, and refers to it as an “intermediate” or “hybrid” space. In
this respect, his view is not dissimilar to Salamon’s notion of partnership, though Salamon does
emphasize that there is a distinct sector.
With respect to the social economy, other researchers also juxtapose it in relation to the private and
public sectors and the family economy (Bouchard et al., 2006; Pestoff, 1998). However, their focus is on
spatially situating the social economy, not in emphasizing the various modes of interaction and relations.
An international review by Amin (2010) highlights the tension between sectoral logic of the distinctiveness
of the social economy and its superior values (the social emphasis) and the ongoing interactions that
affect the functioning of social-economy organizations with the rest of society. Amin (2010) emphasizes
9
the importance of the overall context in which the social economy functions—whether the context is of
a strong successful market economy or one that is failing. The Amin collection presents either a sectoral
or interactive approach without a detailed mapping of the various forms of interaction and their
complexities, as we present in this article.
Within a Canadian context the dominant discourse has been sectoral and arguably utopian. Québec’s
approach to the social economy, as articulated through the apex organization le Chantier de l’économie
sociale, is an attempt to create a movement based upon economic democracy (Mendell, 2010; Mendell &
Neamtan, 2010), but is also one that relies heavily upon governments for its sustainability (Favreau,
2006). Without a movement built upon a base of community networks, government support would be less
likely; however, without government support, the movement would wither.
In other parts of Canada, this specific social economy discourse is not common; instead discourse tends
to focus on nonprofits and co-operatives as distinct sectors that together comprise a broader social
economy. Nevertheless, this view is also sectoral.
This article breaks from the current sectoral emphasis in Canada and presents an approach to the social
economy that is interactive and relational. It builds upon earlier work by Quarter, Mook, & Armstrong
(2009) and discusses how the social economy serves society as a whole. The implication in this analysis
is that the social economy should not be viewed as a distinct alternative for society but rather as part of,
or embedded within, a broader society (Granovetter, 1985). Some of these interactions can be sustaining
and conservative in their orientation; others challenge conventional institutions to change and may even
project an alternative vision of society.
Although the interactive approach differs from the research that focuses on the characteristics of the
social economy, the interactive approach builds upon this sectoral research because to discuss how
organizations in the social economy interact with other institutions in society, one must first have a sense
of the social economy. We bear in mind Evers’ (1995) emphasis on the hybrid nature of the social
economy (“third sector,” in his words) but depart from his logic in that we feel that there are sectoral
characteristics; however, making these characteristics the dominant form of discourse misses something
very important.
We acknowledge that there is no consensus on what constitutes the social economy (Bouchard et al.,
2006). We also accept that the boundaries of the social economy are both contested and fluid, because
organizations that are part of the social economy overlap with the private and public sectors. Farmmarketing co-operatives, for example, function in the market along with private-sector businesses, but
they are classified as part of the social economy because of distinguishing organizational characteristics.
Universities, to give another example, provide public services, much like organizations in the public
sector, but their distinct characteristics of being nonprofits and having many democratic features, such as
elected unit heads and unionized staff, are consistent with organizations in the social economy. For this
reason, we refer to universities as “public sector nonprofits,” that is, a hybrid arrangement involving social
economy organizations that overlap with the public sector (Mook, Quarter, & Richmond, 2007; Quarter
et al., 2009). In other words, the boundaries between the social economy and other parts of society
overlap and are not always agreed upon.
10
These limitations notwithstanding, our focus is to understand the forms of interaction and relationships
between the social economy and other parts of society, and to try to understand the functions of the
social economy in relation to society as a whole. We pursue this task through an anecdotal analysis,
using examples of social economy organizations and discussing their forms of interaction. The examples
are situated in the Venn diagram in Figure 1 (below).
Figure 1 - Social economy: An interactive approach
Following discussion of the examples, we return to the theory building exercise that we set out in the
introduction. Figure 1 reflects the school of thought that cast a broad net in characterizing the social
economy. This view is reflected in the definition presented by Quarter, Mook, & Armstrong (2009): “Social
economy is a bridging concept for organizations that have social objectives central to their mission and
their practice, and either have explicit economic objectives or generate some economic value through the
services they provide and purchases that they undertake” (p. 4, emphasis in original). This definition
includes organizations that do not engage in monetary exchange, and therefore the informal and
household economy technically should be included within the Venn diagram (see Figure 1). However,
researching the informal economy, referred to as the “dark matter” by Smith (1997), is challenging, and
therefore we applied Occam’s razor to the Venn and have opted for simplicity.
SOCIAL ECONOMY BUSINESSES
As noted, a substantial portion of the social economy functions in the marketplace, including many forms
of co-operatives and nonprofit organizations. As shown in Figure 1, we refer to these organizations as
social economy businesses, signifying that they transact their services in the marketplace but have
different characteristics than businesses in general. Some social economy businesses compete directly
with private-sector firms, and others are in niche markets that are less attractive to the private sector.
Credit unions and farm-marketing co-operatives are examples of organizations in direct competition with
11
the private sector. What happens to social economy businesses that interact in the marketplace? Do they
influence private-sector firms to become like them or does the opposite occur?
There is no universal answer to these questions, but there are numerous examples that show how social
economy businesses take on the characteristics of private-sector firms and also examples that show the
opposite. Let us start with the former. At the extreme, social economy businesses demutualize and
become private-sector firms. In 2009, the website of the International Co-operative Alliance had a section
called “Demutualization Watch,” in recognition of this trend. In Canada, all of the major grain marketing
co-operatives have demutualized, as have other large farm-marketing co-operatives, such as Lillydale.
The same is true of some large worker co-operatives, such as CRS, an organic foods wholesaler in
Vancouver, as well as some insurance companies.
A less extreme version of social economy businesses taking on the characteristics of private-sector firms
is the trend by credit unions and farm-marketing co-operatives to merge into large units, thereby
weakening their connections to local communities. Credit unions have been caught up in risky
investments in asset-based commercial paper, as it was called. The apex organization for credit unions in
the United States (U.S. Central Federal Credit Union, located in Lenexa, Kansas) was placed in
“conservatorship” on March 20, 2009, a reflection of concerns about its financial viability (U.S. Central
Federal Credit Union, 2009). Desjardins, the largest credit union confederation in Canada, had writedowns of more than $2 billion due to such investments. In other words, these financial institutions
followed the investment patterns of banks and other private-sector financial institutions, and they
experienced similar forms of vulnerability during the financial downturn.
Farm-marketing and food-retailing co-operatives have also followed the conventional business practice of
merging into larger units (Co-operatives Secretariat, 2007). Mergers into larger units are less pronounced
for worker co-operatives, another form of social economy business. However, the Mondragon Cooperative Corporation is an excellent example of this phenomenon, having become an international
conglomerate with subsidiaries throughout the world. In these subsidiaries, the workforce has a
conventional employment relationship, as distinct from a worker co-operative (MacLeod, 1997;
Monasterio, Telleria, & Etxebarria, 2007; Mondragon Co-operative Corporation, 2007). Even in the
Basque country, where Mondragon’s co-operative structure is relatively well preserved, one of the five
founders of the first Mondragon co-operative, Jesus Larranaga, stated 20 years ago that the structure
could best be described as “neo-co-operative” because individual workers have much less control
(Larranaga, 1990). Mondragon’s move to become an international conglomerate appears to have
accelerated the trend referred to by Larranaga and to have been heavily influenced by the structure of
mega corporations in general.
While the examples of social economy businesses embracing private-sector characteristics are stronger
than the opposite, there are nevertheless examples worth noting. Some of these are historical examples,
others are more current, but there is a smattering of private-sector businesses that have taken on the
characteristics of a nonprofit by placing their shares in a permanent trust (Quarter, 2000). As such, the
shares are not tradable in stock markets or in other forms of exchange. Carl Zeiss Siftung, the huge
German-based multinational in the optical parts business, is one of the oldest examples, having operated
with all of its shares in a permanent trust since 1898. The company’s website is explicit about this point:
“The shares cannot be enlisted for exchange at a stock market” (Carl Zeiss Siftung, n.d.).
12
Although such firms are not common, Zeiss is not one-of-a-kind. Other examples are the John Lewis
Partnership, the largest department store chain in the U.K., whose innovator, John Spedan Lewis,
believed that he was creating “perhaps the only alternative to communism,” as he stated on the cover of
his 1954 book, Fairer Shares, when he undertook the conversion (Lewis, 1954). Bosch, the huge German
multinational, is similar, with 92 percent of its shares in a permanent trust.
Another example, albeit anecdotal, of the social economy influencing the private sector would be
Newman’s Own, a business started in 1982 by the actor Paul Newman and his friend A. E. Hotchner.
Newman’s Own takes a different approach and donates all of the firm’s after-tax profits, an impressive
$200 million in 25 years, to education and charitable causes both in the United States and internationally,
thus negating one of the primary prerogatives of capitalist ownership, the right to profit. Newman &
Hotchner’s (2003) memoir of their work is aptly titled Shameless Exploitation in Pursuit of the Common
Good.
Bullfrog Power, a privately owned Canadian company whose power comes from clean, emission-free
sources like wind power and low-impact water power, also donates 10 percent of “the founding equity to
organizations that support sustainability” (Bullfrog Power, n.d.). Bullfrog is a business designed to earn
profits for its owners, but it also has very tangible social and environmental objectives, much like a social
economy business. Businesses like Bullfrog are known as green technology businesses. Other examples
of social economy businesses embracing private-sector characteristics are the partnerships that the firms
Danone and Adidas are forming with Grameen to bring products at low cost to the poor of Bangladesh.
These examples go beyond the norms for corporate social responsibility, insofar as these businesses are
providing their products at cost.
From these anecdotes, it is a challenge to make the case that the private sector is exerting influence over
the social economy or vice versa. However, these examples reveal how organizations in the social
economy and in the private sector may modify themselves to a point that they no longer solely belong to
the sector of their origin.
COMMUNITY ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT (CED)
Besides social economy businesses, community economic development (CED) also illustrates how
organizations in the social economy interact with other sectors of society. CED is situated in the overlap
between the private and public sectors (see Figure 1) because, unlike social economy businesses, CED
initiatives tend not to be self-sufficient and instead rely upon support from government, foundations, and
private-sector funders in their start-up phase and to sustain themselves. Therefore, CED initiatives earn
a portion of their revenues from their market but do not achieve the financial self-sufficiency of social
economy businesses.
The root problem that spawns community economic development is social and economic inequality,
a historic problem in capitalist economies and arguably a predominant characteristic of human societies
in general. Canada has had an uneven mosaic of development; economic inequalities have been
correlated with regions, race, ethnicity, and other factors. This dynamic is associated with the
marketplace, which while stimulating productivity has also led to a highly unequal distribution of wealth
and related benefits. Organizations engaged in CED have the distinct features associated with the social
economy. Typically, the lead organizations are nonprofit community development corporations engaged
in activities that assist the development of communities and groups on the social margins. In Canada,
13
these activities rely heavily upon government-funded regional development programs and government
agencies (e.g., Atlantic Canada Opportunities Agency), which administer these programs.
Increasingly, CED has emphasized the creation of social enterprises: market-based enterprises that
either are started by a nonprofit or are embedded within a nonprofit. A social enterprise is a form of
community economic development in which an organization exchanges services and goods in the market
as a means to realizing its social objectives or mission. In this sense a social enterprise is similar to
a conventional business, but it also requires external support in order to be sustainable and is established
primarily to meet a social purpose. According to The Canadian Social Enterprise Guide, social
enterprises are “business ventures operated by non-profits, whether they are societies, charities, or cooperatives” (Enterprising Non-Profits, 2006, p. 25). As the guide states, social enterprises are not a new
idea—the Girl Guides baked and sold cookies in Regina in 1927. However, they are an idea that has
attracted great interest since the 1990s.
As governments seek to reduce their spending on social programs, they find the idea appealing that
these reductions can be compensated for, and perhaps even eliminated, through the market. Although
advocates of social enterprises do not view themselves as being motivated by the neoliberal agenda of
small government, neoliberal policies are clearly a stimulus for the development of this form of
organization. Interestingly, as part of the neoliberal philosophy, it is common to differentiate “earned” from
“unearned” revenues, the former having a higher status. Again, this value is prevalent in the private
sector, and since the 1990s, it has been embraced in government and CED circles, and arguably in the
social economy more widely. For example, le Chantier de l’économie sociale in Québec has encouraged
the development of organizations that earn their revenues from the marketplace (Mendell & Neamtan,
2010).
Much social enterprise development in Canada has been oriented toward directly assisting persons with
special challenges to become more self-sufficient. These may include persons with a psychiatric or
intellectual disability, youth having difficulty in school, and groups that face discrimination both historically
and currently (e.g., Aboriginal peoples and recent immigrants, particularly members of visible minorities).
These can be overlapping categories. Such initiatives have been supported by government programs,
foundations, and private investment funds. Most funding sources are for specific projects, but in Québec
there is a central fund, Fiducie du Chantier de l’économie sociale, or the Chantier Trust, with
$52.8 million, which makes “patient capital” available to organizations in the social economy. The
Chantier Trust received its initial financing of $22.8 million over five years from the federal department
Economic Development Canada. This amount was supplemented by investments of $12 million and
$8 million, respectively, from Québec’s two labour investment funds, Fonds de solidarité FTQ (Québec
Federation of Labour) and Fondaction (Confedération des syndicates nationaux). In addition, the Quebec
government invested $10 million in the fund (Mendell & Rouzier, 2006). This is a pooled social economy
investment fund created by government and the private sector.
Another example is the Réseau d’investissement social du Québec (RISQ), a nonprofit capital venture
fund that offers loans and loan guarantees of up to $50,000 exclusively to social economy organizations.
It also offers technical assistance funding of up to $5,000 for pre-start-up support, such as developing
a business plan or undertaking a market and feasibility study. Since its inception in 1997 to June 30,
2005, RISQ provided $7.4 million for 180 capitalization projects and just over $930,000 for 188 technical
assistance projects. The investors are a conglomeration of banks, private-sector corporations, caisses
14
populaires, and the Québec government—providing another example of the interaction between the
social economy and the private and public sectors.
Unlike social economy businesses, which appear to engage in a somewhat reciprocal interaction with the
private and public sectors, organizations engaged in CED are highly dependent upon these other sectors
for investment capital and for technical support. Government is a major player, through its network of
Community Futures Development Corporations across Canada and related policies and funding
programs. Without government support, it is likely that little CED would occur in Canada.
PUBLIC-SECTOR NONPROFITS
Although public-sector nonprofits have a separate incorporation and their own board of directors, by our
definition, they rely on government agencies for a substantial portion of financing and are influenced in
varying degree by government policies. In other words, they have one foot in the public sector and
another in the social economy. Salamon (1987, 1995) labels this relationship with government as a
“partnership” because nonprofit organizations provide services to the public (or to specific parts of the
public) that are financed substantially by government, and they operate within a policy framework created
by government. For government it is advantageous to have nonprofit agencies provide the services,
because these agencies are located in the communities of the recipients, are more in touch with their
needs, and therefore can deliver the services better than government administrators.
Although the concept of a partnership that Salamon presents does capture the interdependence of
government and public-sector nonprofits, partnerships can range from situations of relative equality
among partners to gross imbalances of power, with one dominant partner. Most often for public-sector
nonprofits, government is the dominant partner, because it is the source of the funding. Without public
financial support, the delivery of these services is unlikely, and the agencies providing them would either
fold or be fundamentally transformed. Although this relationship with government plays out in different
ways, financial dependency, and to some degree policy dependency, are the norm.
Governments do not formulate their policies in isolation but are influenced to a degree by community
groups who deliver services in fields to which governments contribute substantial funding. This influence
might be viewed as an imperfect “feedback loop,” with governments not obliged to accept the feedback
but foolish if they ignore it completely. Arguably the influence of community groups is less than ideal, but
government’s reliance on them to deliver services suggests that a degree of interdependence, not simply
dependence, perhaps best characterizes the relationship.
Besides the traditional operating model of public-sector nonprofits, there are also some emerging cases
of co-construction of government policy and services. Such co-construction is evident in social housing in
Québec and the Government Non-Profit Initiative in British Columbia. It is also starting to emerge in the
Atlantic provinces with the establishment of the Volunteer and Non-profit Secretariat in Newfoundland,
the Community Non-Profit Organizations Secretariat in New Brunswick, and a ministerial portfolio for
volunteerism in Nova Scotia.
Some question whether public-sector nonprofits should be included within the social economy, because
of their dependence on government. This viewpoint seems naïve, because in the modern world the public
sector is no longer a distant monolith but a vast network of government agencies with varying degrees of
autonomy that participate in their local communities. These government agencies, operating within
15
government policy frameworks and often with funding packages that they administer, relate to publicsector nonprofits that provide services and apply for ongoing financial support. The term quasi
autonomous non-government organizations (QANGO) is often applied to public-sector nonprofits to
underline their partnership or interdependency with government. Nevertheless, all have their own boards
of directors and therefore maintain a substantial degree of autonomy in how their services are delivered.
Public-sector nonprofits could be referred to as intermediary organizations in that they bridge
a relationship between government and local communities in which service recipients are situated
(Quarter, Mook, & Armstrong, 2009). We prefer the term intermediary organizations to partnership
because it characterizes the bridging role between government and local communities. Partnership, by
comparison, focuses on the interaction between government and public-sector nonprofits only, and says
less about the relationship to the communities that these organizations serve.
Although public-sector nonprofits that deliver quasi-public services generally serve as a bridge between
the government and the social economy, they differ in their degree of independence from government.
Some are simply spinoffs from government (e.g., Community Futures Development Corporations) and
scarcely different than a government agency. Others are organizations created by government legislation
(e.g., universities) but have assumed greater autonomy. Another group, and perhaps the largest,
comprises organizations that evolved independently of government but provide services to a clientele
who are unable to cover the full cost, either because the clientele is lacking in income or the service is
very expensive. These organizations operate in areas such as social housing, health care, and child care.
CIVIL SOCIETY ORGANIZATONS
As shown in Figure 1, civil society organizations are more distinct from the private and public sectors than
the other groupings discussed above. They include a broad range of organizations, and the discussion
that follows illustrates only some of the distinct functions these organizations perform in their interactions
with the rest of society. By necessity, the discussion of examples is brief and simply illustrative.
Civil society organizations can be divided into nonprofit mutual associations that serve a membership and
organizations that serve the public. Within nonprofit mutual associations, two broad groupings can be
created: those that serve the economy and those that are primarily social in their orientation. Nonprofit
mutual associations with an economic orientation include business associations, unions, professional
associations, and consumer societies. In general, all of these relate to other parts of the economy, but in
different ways. Business associations are primarily extensions of the private sector and do the bidding of
a type of business to government and the public more generally. Some are specific to a particular product
(e.g., the Canadian Sugar Beet Producers’ Association); others serve a more general form of business
(e.g., the Canadian Federation of Agriculture); and some are for all forms of business (e.g., chambers of
commerce). However, all represent the interests of their members in various ways.
While the members are predominantly from the private sector, they may also include social economy
businesses—for example, members of the Canadian Federation of Agriculture and more specific
agricultural associations include farm-marketing co-operatives. Within the social economy, second-tier
organizations (such as credit union centrals) may be viewed as forms of business associations in that
they represent the interests of the credit unions that are members of the central. With respect to
government, business associations represent their members on taxation issues and legislation. They are
16
nonprofit organizations operating within civil society that speak on behalf of the businesses they
represent.
Unions, and certified bargaining units more generally, may have very different views than business
associations, but they too relate to the other sectors of the economy, if their members are employed
there. In specific workplace contexts, union locals represent their members in attempting to obtain better
settlements from their employers. Unions, particularly the apex organization (e.g., the Canadian Labour
Congress), take positions on important social issues and participate in social movement organizations
that attempt to address issues and influence government policy (e.g., on pensions, child care, minimum
wages). Unions and business associations may have differing viewpoints, but both are civil society
organizations representing a membership’s interests. Unions not only relate to the private sector but even
more so to the public sector, where the preponderance of their membership works, and to organizations
in the social economy that also have unionized employees in substantial numbers (Akingbola, 2005).
Consumer associations also are highly varied, some being organized by consumers (e.g., the
Consumers’ Association of Canada) and others being created by businesses and professions in an effort
to assume responsibility for the quality of their service (e.g., better business bureaus). Increasingly,
consumer associations are international in their orientation (e.g., the International Organization for
Standardization. or ISO).
Members of professional associations share a profession or orientation within a profession in common,
but not a workplace. Some professional associations have a quasi-labour function, such as provincial
medical associations that represent their members’ interests in negotiating fee schedules and methods of
payment with government.
Most civil society organizations representing a membership have a social rather than a purely economic
purpose. Religious congregations are the largest grouping, with more than 30,000 such associations in
Canada in 2003 (Hall et al., 2005). Although their primary orientation is to their members’ spiritual needs,
69 percent of religious organizations stated that they serve not only their members but also the public
(Hall et al., 2005). An exemplar here is the Salvation Army, whose orientation is to people living on the
social margins. Other religious organizations serve the public in ways such as taking on community
projects like Habitat for Humanity builds or addressing government policies (e.g., KAIROS: Canadian
Ecumenical Justice Initiatives). Habitat for Humanity and many other civil society organizations rely
heavily upon volunteers; some, however, are operated by paid staff.
The web of ethnocultural associations in Canada interrelates with religious congregations and is of equal
importance in providing services to a broad swath of the Canadian public whose roots are in other
countries and who want to sustain their heritage. Like religious congregations, the apex organizations for
ethnocultural associations (e.g., the Canadian Ethnocultural Council, the National Council of Barbadian
Associations in Canada) represent their members’ needs to government in an effort to influence their
policies. In the Venn diagram (see Figure 1) they are civil society organizations serving a membership,
but their orientation in part is to government.
Social clubs also interrelate to this web, some being spinoffs from religious and ethnocultural associations
as well as business and government agencies. A recreational hockey team may have many different
forms of sponsorship, including the private sector. Some clubs promote a commercial product (e.g., the
BMW Club of Canada); others may be viewed as a training ground for sports professionals (e.g., the
17
Greater Toronto Hockey League). Some contribute to society through mobilizing their members—for
example, the Royal Canadian Legion clubs for war veterans or, more specifically, the Canadian Railroad
Historical Association. One form of club that contributes outside of its membership is the fraternal and
service club whose members engage in community service. Most fraternal organizations are
international, with Canadian chapters or clubs (e.g., Lions, Shriners), although some are specifically
Canadian (e.g., Kin Canada, formerly the Kinsmen and Kinette Clubs of Canada). Often these
organizations mobilize members from the private and public sectors to attempt to address the needs of
people on the social margins.
One form of club is the self-help group, a tradition that involves people suffering from an addiction, health,
or social challenge coming together to share their common concerns and supporting each other in
seeking improvement in their lives. In a self-help group, the members identify with and find common
cause with peers who are living with similar challenges (Borkman, 1999). Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) is
the best known, but the AA or 12-step approach also has been applied to other addictions (e.g.,
Gamblers Anonymous). Increasingly, self-help groups are going online and thereby making it possible for
people in differing geographic locales to come together (Ryan, 2010). Self-help groups and social clubs
help members of society to function better and thereby remain employed, often in the private and public
sectors. They also help to reduce health care costs paid for publicly, by taxpayers, and privately.
In addition to serving a membership, civil society organizations are oriented primarily to the public in
many ways. Sociopolitical associations, some very specific (e.g., ratepayers associations) and others
more general (e.g., political parties) mobilize the public around particular issues. These organizations
have a membership but their primary orientation is to mobilize public opinion either to influence
government or to elect a government. Some sociopolitical organizations are formed around particular
social issues attempting to shift social norms on issues such as the environment, the role of women in
society, gay and lesbian rights, disability issues, smoking, various human rights issues, or Canada’s
military mission in Afghanistan. Civil society is the space for associations that mobilize around these
issues, not necessarily in agreement with each other. It is quite common to find civil society
organizations, in opposition to each other, vying for public support. Their role cannot be segregated from
society as a whole.
To have a free hand in the positions they take, sociopolitical organizations operating in civil society
attempt to raise their funds apart from government, for one of their objectives is to influence government
policies. However, this is not always the case; example, the Canadian Environmental Network, the
umbrella organization for about 700 environmental organizations that form a powerful social movement in
Canada and have been able to shift social norms on this issue, is funded by the federal agency
Environment Canada and sits at the table with government representatives in an effort to influence
government policies (Quarter et al., 2009).
SYNTHESIS
Societies are complex and organizations in one sector affect society as a whole. Although organizations
function in differing ways and have differing characteristics, their interactions are not confined to one
sector, or to use Granovetter’s (1985) term, they are “embedded” in a broader society. This is true of
organizations in the social economy as well as private-sector businesses and government agencies. In
this article, we have illustrated how organizations in the social economy interact with the other sectors in
many different ways. Even though the organizations in the social economy have distinct features, the
18
social economy should not be viewed as a Procrustean bed but part of a broader society. Moreover, there
is a broad array of organizations within the social economy and they interact with the rest of society in
many different ways.
For social economy organizations operating in the private market and competing with private-sector
businesses, the predominant consequence of interaction is that they tend to take on the characteristics of
the dominant form. Knowing why this happens and how is an important area for research. As discussed,
there is reciprocal influence, but the influence is not equal or balanced. Credit unions are working hard at
becoming like banks; the reverse is not true. Banks may try to engage in social marketing and improve
their public image, but they do not appear to be overly influenced by the credit union approach of
a member-based organization in which each member is entitled to one vote in its governance. Farmmarketing co-operatives embrace the business practices of the private sector, as these help with sales of
their products. Increasingly, private-sector businesses are embracing the tenets of corporate social
responsibility; this might be viewed as reflecting the influence of the social economy, but this is a
speculative point.
Community development organizations are squeezed between the private and public sectors. They have
created social enterprises that are of benefit to people on the social margins and in the hinterlands of the
country but are heavily dependent upon government.
Public-sector nonprofits are intermediaries between the public sector and the social economy. They
range from organizations that are simply extensions of government to those that operate independently
but nevertheless rely upon government funding and are influenced by government policies. Universities
are an example of organizations that have reduced their historical dependence upon government, but
have become more dependent upon the private sector for financial support (corporatization, as some call
it). Nevertheless, public-sector nonprofits are influenced by government policies in the same way as
social economy businesses have been influenced by the private sector. The increased reliance of
universities on student fees is an example of the influence of government policies and of the neoliberal
agenda of smaller government.
In the Venn diagram (see Figure 1), civil society organizations appear as most distinct from the private
and public sectors, but distinct should not be equated with unrelated. As discussed, civil society
organizations relate to the other sectors in many ways and can range from those that are an extension of
other sectors (e.g., business and professional associations) to those that challenge social norms and
attempt to bring about social change. Even civil society organizations that seek to bring about profound
forms of social change rely upon government support to a degree. This may seem paradoxical, but social
movement organizations, like any others, exist in relationship, not in isolation, and must find ways to
sustain themselves and to influence government policies.
For some, the social economy is viewed as a social movement that challenges the prevalent view of
business (Mendell & Neamtan, 2010) and even envision an alternative economic paradigm for society as
a whole (Quarter, 1992; Shragge & Fontan, 2000). Although there are organizations in the social
economy that undertake that function, it seems overly simplistic to argue that only those organizations
that challenge social norms are part of the social economy. As noted above, organizations that challenge
social norms have a complex relationship to society and often rely upon government funding to pursue
their goals. This is as true of social economy movement organizations such as le Chantier de l’économie
sociale in Québec as it is for environmental and feminist organizations. This financial dependence may
19
weaken the organization’s ability to present its message as it would like, but the alternative, it would be
fair to say, is even less desirable.
We view this article as an introduction to an analysis of the social economy that shifts the ground from
a focus on the social economy per se (who belongs) to a focus on how the social economy interacts with
and relates to the private and public sectors. The analysis presented here is introductory and raises
questions about the direction of influence and the circumstances under which it is likely to occur. It also
recognizes the fluidity of these interactions, opening avenues for comparative country or region-based
analyses to further understand the intricacies of these relationships.
NOTES
1. For example, see the widely cited defining characteristics of Salamon, Anheier, List, Toepler, Sokolowski, et al. (1999).
2. For example, the seven guiding principles, as presented by the International Co-operative Alliance (2010).
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About the authors/Les auteurs
Jack Quarter is Professor and Co-Director, Social economy Centre, Ontario Institute for Studies in
Education, University of Toronto, Toronto, Canada. Email: [email protected]
Laurie Mook is Assistant Professor in the School of Community Resources and Development, Nonprofit
Leadership and Management, and the ASU Lodestar Center for Philanthropy and Nonprofit Innovation,
Arizona State University, USA. Email: [email protected]
22
DeSantis (2010)
Vol. 1, No 1
Fall / Automne 2010
23 – 45
Voices from the Margins: Policy Advocacy
and Marginalized Communities
Gloria DeSantis
University of Regina
ABSTRACT
This article aims to explore policy advocacy processes facilitated by social service nonprofit organizations (NPOs)
using a social justice lens. Qualitative interview results from 39 NPOs from 18 communities provide a deeper
understanding of advocacy, revealing that NPOs perceive that policy advocacy is not a discrete phenomenon, that
advocacy activity differs in visibility and scale, and that advocacy strategies are clearly informed by NPOs’ front-line
service delivery work. A typology of policy advocacy showing different advocacy types and their fluid nature is
presented. The results also show that marginalized people’s involvement varies depending on a diversity of
influential conditions. Conclusions and implications focus on social inclusion/exclusion, the varied and fluid nature
of policy advocacy, challenges for practitioners, and the complex nature of “advocacy chill.”
RÉSUMÉ
Les organismes sans but lucratif (OSBL) de services sociaux ont pour mission de préserver la santé des
communautés au moyen de défense de politiques sociales. Toutefois, peu d’études concrètes au Canada portent
sur la nature des processus en cause, en particulier lorsqu’il s’agit de politiques mises en œuvre au sein de
collectivités marginalisées. Cet article a pour but d’explorer sous l’angle de la justice sociale la nature des
processus défense des politiques tels qu’ils sont pratiqués par les OSBL de services sociaux. Un entretien
qualitatif avec 39 OSBL issues de 18 collectivités permet une meilleure compréhension des processus. Les OSBL
ne conçoivent pas défense des politiques comme un phénomène discret; les activités qui y sont reliées varient en
visibilité et en étendue, et les stratégies employées sont clairement influencées par les services de première ligne
qu’offrent les OSBL. Nous proposons une typologie des processus défense des politiques exposant les différents
types d’approches et leur nature changeante. Les résultats indiquent que l’engagement des personnes
marginalisées varie en fonction d’un certain nombre de facteurs. Les conclusions et les implications de l’étude se
concentrent sur l’exclusion/l’inclusion sociale, la nature variée et changeante du processus défense de politiques,
les défis auxquels font face les praticiens et la nature complexe de la réticence envers l’élaboration de politiques
communément appelée « advocacy chill ».
Nonprofit social services; marginalized communities; Social justice; policy advocacy; Civic participation / Services
sociaux sans but lucratif; Communautés marginalisées; Justice sociale; Recommandation de politique;
Participation civique
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DeSantis (2010)
INTRODUCTION
Social service nonprofit organizations (NPOs) work in collaboration with marginalized communities to
achieve healthier communities through social service delivery and policy advocacy. It is generally agreed
that NPOs have a long history of advocacy and of being “instrumental in the development of most of the
public services we rely on today” in Canada (e.g., schools, hospitals) (Voluntary Sector Initiative, 2001,
p. 2). The social service NPO sector acts as a “social seismograph,” leading the way in identifying new
social issues (Hall & Banting, 2000, p. 3). The NPO policy advocacy role with and for marginalized
communities continues to be an important function (Bridge & Gilbert, 2005; Broadbent, 1999).
NPOs work closely and develop relationships with at least two main constituencies when doing policy
advocacy: governments and marginalized communities. Understanding the complexity of these
relationships, which NPOs must negotiate while undertaking policy advocacy, is essential. Much has
been written about NPO-government relations and the coalitions that advocate for policy changes (e.g.,
Ontario Anti-Poverty Coalition), but in Canada there appears to be no systematic study or primary data on
policy advocacy from the perspective of individual NPOs working with marginalized communities. This
article is intended to provide an analysis and insights for practitioners, policymakers, and scholars
interested in understanding the complex internal nature of policy advocacy processes facilitated by social
service NPOs.
In Canada and the USA, NPO advocacy research tends to focus on the NPO-government interface (e.g.,
political environment, government regulations) as well as NPO organizational characteristics, with little
attention to the relationship between advocacy processes and marginalized people. Harvie (2002)
reinforces this view: “Surprisingly little empirical data are available on how the voluntary sector
participates in public processes or how its advocacy activities vary” (p. 5). There is Canadian literature
that describes histories, milestones, stakeholders, and shifting ideologies in advocacy work undertaken
by NPOs, activists, academics, and marginalized people themselves (see, for example, Stienstra &
Wight-Felske, 2003). Research in Canada has also been conducted on the effects of government
regulatory regimes (Pross & Webb, 2003); on legal issues of charitable lobbying activities (Bridge, 2002;
Phillips, Chapman, & Stevens, 2001); and on the number of volunteers who do advocacy work (Hall,
Lasby, Gumulka, & Tryon, 2006).
Research in the USA has been conducted on nonprofit organizational resources (e.g., finances, staff
skills, technology); environmental incentives (e.g., government funding relationships); tactical choices;
and extent and frequency of advocacy (Mosley, 2009, 2010; Nicholson-Crotty, 2009; Salamon & Lessans
Geller, 2008). In a recent study, a majority of NPOs indicated they rarely or never involve their clients in
advocacy work (Salamon & Lessans Geller, 2008). Further, in other research, there remains an
unanswered question: are NPOs “advocating primarily in support of clients’ concerns?” (Mosley, 2009,
p. 19). There appears to be a lack of research derived directly from primary data that systematically
examines social service NPOs’ perceptions of their own advocacy processes with marginalized groups
(i.e., their clients). This paper attempts to address this issue.
It is significant that policy advocacy is a form of civic participation (Salamon & Lessans Geller, 2008), and
participation is a key dimension of social justice theory (Mullaly, 1997). Taken together, civic participation
and social justice make a compelling case for the inclusion of marginalized groups in advocacy work.
Social justice theory espouses that people who are directly affected by a new or modified social policy
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should participate in deliberations about that policy (Mullaly, 1997). Elson (2004) wonders about NPO
philosophy regarding disadvantaged groups, specifically regarding the degree to which social justice and
social inclusion are encouraged. Participation is a defining criterion of democratic nations like Canada,
but currently there seems to be a “democratic deficit” (Canadian Policy Research Networks & Ascentum
Inc., 2005, p. 6; see also Abelson et al., 2003), making research on the participatory nature of policy
advocacy especially timely.
Despite this deficit, there is growing interest in the involvement of NPOs in democratic governance and
policy formulation (Brock, 2001; Orsini & Smith, 2007). Policy advocacy remains one of the most
“controversial areas of government and voluntary sector relations” (Brock & Banting, 2001a, p. 10).
Different NPOs have different types of relationships, different degrees of power-sharing and dependency,
and different degrees of relational formality with governments (Boudreau, 2006; Brock, 2002; Brock &
Banting, 2001b; Coston, 1998). In Canada, despite the five-year, $94-million, federal government–NPO
sector Voluntary Sector Initiative (VSI), which recognized that advocacy and policy participation were
essential to healthy debate and social change in a democratic society, issues persist (Brock, 2001;
S. Phillips, 2001, 2009). Some issues stem from governments and their rules (Bridge & Gilbert, 2005;
Elson, 2004) while others stem from the non-formal institutional structure of the NPO sector itself (Elson,
2008). It is curious that no Canadian government, unlike the U.K., “has had an actual agenda for its
relationship with the voluntary sector that is built on a coherent philosophy about the role of the voluntary
sector in democracy, citizenship and governance” (S. Phillips, 2009, p. 9).
This article explores the nature of policy advocacy processes facilitated by social service NPOs in
Saskatchewan, Canada, using a social justice lens. The research focuses on three research questions:
a) How do NPOs perceive and describe their policy advocacy work? b) Do social service NPOs engage
marginalized people in their policy advocacy processes and, if so, how? and c) What conditions influence
the involvement of marginalized people and the type of advocacy pursued? The research here
demonstrates that a heterogeneous group of 39 NPOs in Saskatchewan are actively engaged in
changing social policies in a multiplicity of ways, but with varied marginalized community involvement.
In general, the advocacy climate in Saskatchewan has shifted over time: the 1970s was a time when
governments expected NPO advocacy, while the early 2000s was a time when governments regularly
reminded NPOs that they should not be doing advocacy (DeSantis, 2008).
LITERATURE
Policy Advocacy and Civic Participation
Social policy advocacy is a form of civic participation (Boris & Mosher-Williams, 1998; Phillips & Orsini,
2002; Salamon & Lessans Geller, 2008) where individuals “are actively engaged in social and political
action such as lobbying” directed at governments (Hancock, Labonte, & Edwards, 2000, p. 53). Rektor
(2002, p. 1) defined the process of advocacy as “the act of speaking or of disseminating information
intended to influence individual behaviour or opinion, corporate conduct, or public policy and law.”
Advocacy means speaking up “in a situation that is viewed as undesirable, unfair and changeable”
(Wight-Felske, 2003, p. 324; see also Brooks, 2001; Neufeldt, 2003). Ezell’s (2001) advocacy definition
was modified (see additions in italics) to focus specifically on policy, NPOs, and marginalized
communities and adopted for this research: social policy advocacy consists of those intentional efforts of
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DeSantis (2010)
NPOs to change existing or proposed government policies on behalf of or with groups of marginalized
people.
Advocacy strategies include interactions with policymakers and politicians (e.g., amicable meetings,
angry confrontations); media strategies to generate public awareness; and legal approaches through the
courts (Cohen, de la Vega, & Watson, 2001; D’Aubin, 2003; Dobson, 2003; Hick & McNutt, 2002;
McCarthy & Castelli, 2001). The general goal of policy advocacy is to improve people’s lives through
changes to government systems and policies, programs, legal definitions, and ideologies that impact
communities (Cohen et al., 2001; Ezell, 2001; Jansson, 1999; McCarthy & Castelli, 2001; Sheldrick,
2004). Although advocacy can take on many forms based on the socio-political nature of the jurisdiction
where it is applied, this research reflects advocacy practice in Canada (Enns, 2003).
Despite the awareness on the part of NPOs across the country of the need for policy advocacy, there is
clear evidence of “advocacy chill” in Canada. “Advocacy chill” refers to the inhibitory effect that
government laws and funding regimes have had on NPO advocacy behaviour over the past few
decades—a phenomenon that is, in essence, a form of “civic participation chill.” Recently, the federal
Lobbyist Act proposes to place more requirements on organizations to register and list their interactions
with politicians and senior officials (S. Phillips, 2009). Another law that is better known to registered
charitable NPOs, the Income Tax Act, administered through the Canada Revenue Agency (CRA),
specifies what kinds of advocacy activities are permitted and the penalties for non-compliance (Bridge,
2002; Elson, 2008; Harvie, 2002; J. Phillips, 2001). In general, “charitable activities” are fully permitted
but “political activities” (i.e., advocacy) are only partially permitted (Bridge & Gilbert, 2005, p. 154);
political activities that do not use more than 10% of large charitable NPO resources and 20% of small
charitable NPO resources are permitted. There seem to be inequities in the way different charities are
scrutinized. CRA appears to treat research institutes more leniently than grassroots organizations
(Broder, 2002), as do the courts (J. Phillips, 2001). Despite the many years of NPO-CRA discussions and
the policy changes indicated above, there is still a lack of clarity for NPOs that are registered charities
regarding what does and does not constitute political activity. This lack of clarity leads to confusion in
interpretation of laws for some NPOs, in turn stifling advocacy action for fear of government reprisals
(DeSantis, 2008). Hence, a culture of “advocacy chill” is created.
Further, shifts in government funding regimes across Canada also appear to create a chill on NPO
advocacy. Since the 1970s, a number of trends in this area have greatly affected NPOs, namely
a reduction in the number of core/operating grants, an increase in the number of contracts or fee-forservice arrangements, an increase in project funding, funding cuts to some NPO programs, and the
downloading of government services to NPOs (Banting, 2000; Brock & Banting, 2001b; Brooks, 2001;
Hall et al., 2005; Rice & Prince, 2003; Scott, 2003; Vaillancourt & Tremblay, 2002). In particular, NPOs
with government contracts report pressure to deliver services and de-emphasize advocacy and
community outreach (Scott, 2003). Since the early 1990s, successive federal governments have cut
millions of dollars from NPOs, many of which were known for their advocacy work (S. Phillips, 2009).
Further, these funding trends have created a competitive environment where NPOs who compete against
each other for funding do not readily cooperate on advocacy campaigns (Browne, 1996; DeSantis, 2008;
Luther & Prempeh, 2003).
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Policy Advocacy Processes and Social Justice
It is worth pausing to ponder the necessity of social service NPO engagement in policy advocacy work. In
their simplest form, social policies are about choices made by governments (Graham, Swift, & Delaney,
2003; Wharf & McKenzie, 1998). Social policies are broadly stated and “are guiding principles …
motivated by basic and perceived human needs.… Social policies tend to, but need not be, codified in
formal legal instruments” (Gil, 1992, p. 24), such as government acts, regulations, or bylaws. The policy
choices made by governments are influenced by different models of policymaking (Graham et al., 2003;
Orsini & Smith, 2007). These different models illustrate that policymaking is usually driven by experts and
politicians (Graham et al., 2003; Wharf & McKenzie, 1998). Often the community and NPOs are left
working outside government, hence the need for a policy advocacy function. Graham et al. (2003)
conclude, “There are very few built-in structures in Canada to ensure that citizens, both those directly
affected by policy or those with an interest in policy, have the opportunity to be heard” (p. 185). This lack
of involvement is a form of social exclusion and runs counter to social justice theory.
Social justice theory posits that those people who are the focus of a new or modified social policy should
participate in policy deliberations (Mullaly, 1997). Social justice is central to policy advocacy processes
advanced by some NPOs with marginalized communities (Boucher, Fougeyrollas, & Gaucher, 2003;
Institute for Media Policy and Civil Society, 2002). Given their front-line social service delivery role, these
NPOs are intimately aware of the effects of marginalization. Marginalization refers to groups of people
who may be excluded economically, politically, socially, and/or psychologically from their communities
(Jenson, 2000). Advocacy seeks to assist “relatively powerless groups, such as women, children, poor
people ... and people with disabilities” (Jansson, 1999, p. 10) to be included in policy deliberations that
directly affect them.
NPOs engage these groups in varying degrees during advocacy processes. Advocacy processes have
multiple dimensions, comprise different phases, and often involve different constituencies (Boris &
Mosher-Williams, 1998; Mosley, 2009, 2010; Salamon & Lessans Geller, 2008). NPOs may involve
marginalized groups in various ways: in the entire advocacy process, only at the beginning as evidence is
gathered on potential policy impacts, periodically in public presentations, in key meetings with
government representatives, or not involve them at all. In a nationwide USA survey, Salamon & Lessans
Geller (2008) found that the degree of marginalized people’s exclusion appears to be very high, with 88%
of NPOs stating they “never or rarely involve” their clients in advocacy (Salamon & Lessans Geller, 2008,
p. 12). Reasons for this finding were not described. What is striking is the lack of research on what NPOs
are advocating for and who benefits (Mosley, 2010).
In summary, NPO advocacy is an important vehicle for civic participation, required because many
governments’ social policy–making processes do not include participation by those who are affected by
a new or modified policy. Social justice theory supports participation and inclusion of marginalized groups
in advocacy work, but government rules and funding regimes have had a chilling effect on NPO
advocacy. Given the various forces at play in the reality of NPOs, the nature of advocacy with/for
marginalized groups by these NPOs is complex and worthy of further investigation.
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METHOD
Saskatchewan NPOs
Saskatchewan has an active NPO community. The province ranked second in Canada for the number of
NPOs per capita (i.e., 800 organizations per 100,000 people in Saskatchewan, in contrast to
508 organizations per 100,000 people nationally) (Hall et al., 2004). The NPOs in Saskatchewan are also
quite diverse. Hall et al. (2004) estimate there were 7,963 registered organizations in this province with a
population of just over one million people. Using the International Classification of Nonprofit
Organizations (ICNPO), 8.6% or 685 organizations in Saskatchewan were classified as “social services.”
Other NPOs fell into the following categories: 2,080 religion, 1,920 sports and recreation, 810 arts and
culture, 640 fundraising and voluntarism promotion, 420 business/professional/unions, 335 health
organizations (including mental health), and 335 education/research organizations, with the remaining
738 organizations in the categories of development and housing, environment, universities/colleges,
hospitals, international development, and law/advocacy/politics.
Sample Description
Social service NPOs are the focus of this research. Social service NPOs refer here to a range of
organizations that provide services to specific populations (e.g., people with mental health disabilities,
people living on low incomes, single-parent families) to promote their social, mental, and economic wellbeing as well as protect and advance their civil and human rights. For the purpose of this study, social
service NPOs incorporate these ICNPO categories: social services, development and housing, advocacy
for human rights, and health (mental).
A heterogeneous population sample of social service NPOs in Saskatchewan that engage in advocacy
activities was generated. This was accomplished by using two government datasets: the registered
charities dataset maintained by the Canada Revenue Agency and the registered nonprofit corporations
dataset maintained by Saskatchewan Justice, Corporations Branch. These two datasets were merged
into one master dataset, and 1,420 identified, registered social service–type NPOs were sorted into an
alphabetical list by city/town/First Nation reserve.1 This list was further divided using location (i.e.,
northern and southern areas of the province) and size of community (i.e., small, medium, and large) as
key variables. From this file, a purposive sample of 95 NPOs was created using two additional variables:
size of NPOs (i.e., small, medium, and large) and NPOs that serve a variety of marginalized populations.2
The final criterion for participation was that the NPO had to have at least five years of community-based
policy advocacy experience involving marginalized groups of people.
Of these 95 NPOs, 39 NPOs from 18 communities agreed to participate. This sample of 39 NPOs
acknowledged that they do policy advocacy; thus, they are policy advocates who are active in changing
the status quo with/for marginalized groups. The remaining group of 56 NPOs comprised a variety of
organizations that refused to participate in the study for a variety of reasons: they did not want to talk
about their advocacy work; they said they do not do advocacy; they did not have time to participate; or
they simply did not respond to multiple requests to participate. Consequently, this sample is biased in
favour of NPOs who acknowledge they do policy advocacy and are willing to talk about it. Although the
sample is diverse, there are types of NPOs that are missing (e.g., child care, literacy, international
development), and one should be cautious about drawing generalizations beyond this sample. Table 1
offers a profile of the 39 NPOs interviewed for this study.
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DeSantis (2010)
Table 1 Profile of the 39 NPOs interviewed
Characteristic
Location in Saskatchewan
Northern area—Prince Albert and northward
South of Prince Albert
Size of community*
Small (less than 6,999 people)
Medium (more than 7,000 people but less than 40,000)
Large (more than 180,000)
Size of agency**
Very small = < $30,000 annual revenue, typically no staff, all volunteers
Small = $30,000 to $99,999 annual revenue, typically 1–4 FTE staff
Medium = $100,000 to $499,999 annual revenue, typically 5–9 FTE staff
Large = $500,000 + annual revenue, typically 10 or more FTE staff
Primary area of activity (from ICNPO)†
Social services (e.g., food banks, agencies serving those with disabilities)
Mental health services (e.g., community mental health agencies)
Development & housing (e.g., neighbourhood groups, nonprofit housing)
Rights-based advocacy services (e.g., anti-poverty organizations)
Person interviewed (respondents)
Executive director/managers
Front-line staff
Board presidents
Small-group interviews (four groups had 2 people each, one group had 4 people)‡
Sex of respondents (total of 47, not 39, because small groups interviewed)
Female
Male
Notes:
# of NPOs
10
29
9
12
18
4
6
13
16
22
6
6
5
23
7
4
5
21
26
* At the time of data collection, there were no communities in Saskatchewan with populations between 40,000 and
180,000.
** These categories are based on Hall et al. (2004).
† ICNPO, the International Classification of Nonprofit Organizations, focuses on the primary area of agency
activity; some major research initiatives in Canada have adopted this classification system instead of the Canada
Revenue Agency system (see, for example, Hall et al., 2004).
‡ The five NPOs that requested more than one person be involved in the interview said they would better
represent their NPO with more than one voice involved. Since the NPO was the unit of analysis, their request
was granted.
The marginalized groups of people served by these 39 NPOs included the following: adults/teens with
cognitive, psychiatric, and/or physical disabilities; individuals, families, and seniors living in poverty;
single-parent families; First Nations and Metis peoples; women and men released from corrections
facilities; female victims of domestic violence; people who are homeless/transient; immigrants and
refugees; and people living in high-risk neighbourhoods (e.g., high crime rate). It was common for NPOs
to serve more than one of these groups simultaneously.
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Data Collection and Analysis
A semi-structured telephone interview guided data collection. The interview questions were as follows:
a. Please describe public policy advocacy undertaken by your organization in
collaboration with marginalized groups of people, and, if relevant, in partnership with
other voluntary agencies. Be prepared to discuss one or two examples/case studies
which best illustrate the key characteristics of your agency’s policy advocacy work.
b. What are the specific advocacy strategies and activities in which your agency
actually involved marginalized groups of people in the policy advocacy work you
cited?
c. Why did/does your agency use these strategies and activities?
d. What barriers surfaced to prevent marginalized people’s participation and what
opportunities did you pursue in an effort to enhance their participation in those
example(s) you cited?
The interviews were audio-recorded and then transcribed verbatim. Inductive analysis from the data was
completed (Lincoln & Guba, 1985). Data analysis of the 800 pages of interview transcripts included
coding, categorizing, and theme development (Strauss & Corbin, 1998).
RESULTS
NPOs’ Descriptions of Policy Advocacy and Marginalized People’s Involvement
Through inductive analysis, it became evident that NPO description of policy advocacy varied
considerably. NPOs described how their policy advocacy work was informed by their front-line service
delivery work with their clients (i.e., marginalized individuals), discussed how policy advocacy may not
have discrete boundaries, and stated that policy advocacy varies in scale and visibility.
In general, advocacy work by the 39 NPOs was informed by their daily, front-line, one-on-one work with
clients; for example, as one respondent said, “We don’t officially have a policy advocate.… Things just
come out of our service delivery and I think that we kind of use that to rationalize our lobbying efforts.”
NPOs said they knew what policy changes were required because of their day-to-day front-line work with
people in need. For some NPOs there also seemed to be the need to defer to clients’ opinions about how
far to go with advocacy. The following quote illustrates this viewpoint.
We were going to lobby for something bigger … but I wasn’t going to make any waves
as long as she [a client] was still kind of beholden to those folks [at Social Services]
because again our concern is what’s best for her and if she didn’t want to pursue
anything there was absolutely no question that we weren’t going to get involved.… If the
client’s moved on and you’ve got your hands full … we do constantly worry about
what’s good for the client and whether, you know, what’s good for the rest of the world,
a political issue is, you know, worth fighting about. Yeah, sometimes we do defer to the
client’s needs and wishes at that point and let the big stuff slide.
Although NPOs were explicitly asked about their policy advocacy, many insisted on talking about their
one-on-one advocacy with clients, program advocacy, funding advocacy for these programs, and
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research-oriented advocacy. Twenty-nine of the 39 NPOs explained the interconnections between these
different types of advocacy; thus in practice these types of advocacy were not discrete activities. For
example, depending on the situation, respondents explained they might have been advocating for
a change in government policy, but then had to switch to advocating for a research initiative to find
answers to some questions that informed the proposed policy change. One respondent explained this
well:
When we talk about public policy advocacy … and I was looking at your definition
here … in our pamphlet about our agency, we basically identify that we provide
advocacy … and we have defined that as part of our mandate …. to improve services
for persons with mental illness … through increased funding and changes to legislation
and policies ... and that is a very broadly defined concept. We do that only in
partnership with our funders and other community-based organizations and other
government organizations. We get involved with other people to try and advocate for
improved services and increased funding. Then we, on a day-to-day basis, are involved
in advocacy for our residents in our programs that are a little more specific to what their
needs might be.
Some NPO policy initiatives included the involvement of marginalized people while others did not. Of the
42 policy initiatives described by NPOs, 14 (33%) of these initiatives excluded marginalized people while
the remaining 28 (67%) involved them. The following are some examples of policy initiatives that involved
marginalized groups:
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
low-cost transit policy
municipal property base tax policy
women’s retraining policy
city anti-violence bylaw
policies against the medical model of mental illness
child welfare geographical boundaries
city bylaws regarding nonprofit housing
extrajudicial sanctions for youth
First Nations spirituality in correctional institutions
advanced language training for immigrant professionals
respite policy for caregivers of people with disabilities
provincial social assistance policies
domestic violence act
supportive housing for adults with cognitive disabilities
Another significant finding was that advocacy activities appeared to take place on a continuum based on
visibility and scale. At one end of the continuum one could put NPOs that did advocacy but hid it, for
example: their advocacy was simply about them “voicing their opinion” with government officials and
working behind the scenes; or they were funded solely to do one-on-one advocacy and “hope[d]
government workers saw the bigger problem.” Further along the continuum was another group of NPOs
that were more visible, in that the NPO “cracked open that door a bit” by explicitly explaining to
governments about the need to change policies; their work was still small-scale in that they did not join
coalitions, or they kept a low profile by staying away from the media.
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On the opposite end of the continuum is yet another group of NPOs whose advocacy work was largescale, formal, and visible. This included large NPOs and NPOs that operated on a province-wide basis as
well as NPOs that received either federal or provincial government funding to do policy advocacy targeted
at another level of government. It also included NPOs that joined province-wide networks that did not
receive government funding but were quite visibly active, through the media for example, in working to
change government policies. A description of the types of NPO advocacy and the involvement of
marginalized groups is required before explaining the myriad conditions that influence these NPO
processes.
Advocacy Typology and Marginalized People’s Involvement
A majority of the policy initiatives (67%) involved marginalized people in advocacy processes. Across the
sample, a diversity of types of advocacy, forms of participation, and dynamic processes was revealed.
A data typology based on this analysis was developed. Embedded in the Figure 1 typology are the
following: impetus for embarking on advocacy; participation decision points; policy advocacy “types”; and
arrows that denote the fluid nature of advocacy processes.
The left box in Figure 1 shows that NPO service delivery work was the impetus for their advocacy work.
According to one NPO, “That’s the opportunity that will always be there as long as we’re involved in direct
service delivery … we’ll always have our finger on the pulse.” It is from their service delivery work that
these NPOs saw problems experienced by their clients, which they believe required action. Some NPOs
noted their advocacy work began with a crisis (e.g., a murder in a neighbourhood, a drug house raid by
police that brought immediate attention to a community) while others indicated it was the cumulative,
repetitive day-to-day issues that led to policy advocacy.
NPOs acknowledged their social service delivery work led them to decision-making points about their
advocacy work. If NPOs saw the same issue occurring with a group of people and not just with an
individual, then further action was discussed and decisions were made among the NPO staff, volunteers,
and sometimes among other NPOs, as well as in consultation with clients. These circumstances led to
one of three possible decisions as shown in the three middle boxes in Figure 1: no collective policy action
ensued; advocacy moved forward without marginalized people’s participation; or advocacy moved
forward with marginalized people’s participation. Since marginalized people’s participation in advocacy
processes was a central feature in this study, they became one of the defining features in Figure 1.
The series of boxes on the right side of Figure 1 shows the multiple types of advocacy that were pursued.
First, some policy advocacy initiatives were pursued without marginalized individuals and included the
following three types: a) a single NPO picked up an initiative and advocated for change; b) groups of
NPOs got together and formed a coalition or network without government participation and were either
locally based or province-wide; and c) a coalition of NPOs worked together with government
representatives on initiatives that were either time-limited or ongoing. Second, some policy advocacy was
pursued with marginalized people directly involved and included the same three advocacy types with one
additional element—the addition of self-help NPOs, which in this case refers to NPOs operated by/for
marginalized individuals.
The arrows shown on the right side of Figure 1 represent the fluidity of advocacy work. These arrows
illustrate that NPOs chose and altered types of advocacy and involvement of different constituencies over
time; some NPOs noted, however, that they chose and implemented one type of advocacy for the
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duration of an advocacy initiative. These social policy advocacy initiatives had life cycles, but it appears
these cycles were seldom identical.
Given the dynamic and fluid nature of NPO policy advocacy illuminated in Figure 1, it is not surprising that
marginalized people’s participation was varied. NPOs described multiple forms of involvement throughout
advocacy processes, including the following:
a. interacted with the general public and the media to create awareness of issues (e.g.,
public demonstrations like parades, radio talk shows);
b. interacted with governments (e.g., created opportunities for interactions among
marginalized groups and governments within community settings, initiated
conversations/meetings with governments and ensured marginalized people attended
the meeting, encouraged marginalized groups to participate in formal government
meetings, created confrontations with governments);
c. worked behind the scenes on activities intended to create an evidence base in support
of a policy and networked across groups (e.g., engaged in participatory action research,
talked with marginalized groups, cross-fertilized issues across different groups).
Table 2 contains descriptions of these data along with examples of marginalized people’s participation;
this list is not exhaustive, but rather it is intended to give the reader a sense of the scope of activities.
Omitted from this table was a key activity for which none of the NPOs described any involvement of
marginalized groups: courts and legal actions, including taking issues to the provincial Ombudsman’s
Office. Finally, 13 of the NPOs disclosed they had staff that had, or they themselves had had,
experiences with marginalization, thus these experiences were brought to policy discussions even if their
clients were not at the table.
Myriad conditions influenced the type(s) of NPO advocacy, the involvement of marginalized people, and
other choices during advocacy processes, which reinforced the dynamic nature of advocacy work shown
in Figure 1. These multiple conditions are presented next.
33
DeSantis (2010)
Figure 1: Typology of social policy advocacy involving
marginalized individuals
NPOs do
front-line
service
delivery
daily; this
work informs
NPOs of
issues and
leads to
decisions
regarding
advocacy
direction
NPO decides
advocacy will
remain
one-on-one
(no policy
advocacy)
NPO decides
to move
policy
advocacy
forward
without
marginalized
people
NPO decides
to move
policy
advocacy
forward with
marginalized
people
Single NPO
NPO coalition/network
NPOs work with governments
Self-help NPO
Single NPO
NPO coalition/network
NPOs work with governments
Advocacy impetus
NPO participation
decision points
Advocacy types
34
DeSantis (2010)
Table 2: Marginalized people’s forms of participation
throughout advocacy processes
Advocacy activities
Examples of marginalized people’s participation
a) Interacted with general public and media to generate awareness
Included speaking out on a small scale (e.g., at high schools) or
large scale through the media (e.g., newspapers and radio talk
shows for anti-stigma campaigns) as well as public demonstrations
(e.g., parades)
“We developed three videos and they were stories
about supported employment … So people with
developmental disabilities talk about what they
did…”
b) Interacted with governments
Created open educational opportunities for interactions among
marginalized groups and governments in community settings
Included holding large public gatherings like conferences/
workshops, NPO annual general meetings, and social events that
were meant to be entertaining but carried a message (e.g.,
multicultural festivals). This included creating space and time for
government staff/politicians to “visit” with marginalized groups of
people. For example, this was commonly used to give cognitively
impaired adults the chance to talk to government representatives
as they walked through their workshops or group homes.
“Have the meeting with government here, once
people come and see who it is that we’re asking for
things for, it personalizes it.… We actually took the
first [government] fellow around and had him meet
the people here.…You get inundated at our place.…
We have four or five participants that will just
immediately be there wanting to have
a conversation with you.”
Initiated conversations with governments
This occurred informally in grocery stores or on the streets in small
communities, as well as through meetings organized by NPOs,
NPO/government partnerships, and conversations with opposition
parties.
Brought marginalized people to participate in formal government
meetings organized by governments
This included taking marginalized groups of people to city council,
to the legislature (e.g., Cabinet Days), and to cross-government
department meetings to tell their stories.
Created confrontations with governments
Some NPOs chose to advocate for the enforcement of alreadyexisting policies like city bylaws and provincial regulations. Also
included here were sit-ins at elected representatives’ offices.
“He [the mental health consumer] was the one …
a meeting would be called and he’d be the one to
phone everyone to … remind them about the
meeting with the government.… And he’d talk quite
openly at the meeting.”
“The co-chair of our committee is not associated
with any agency. She’s a parent and has had family
involvement with sexual assault and victimization …
so she and I are both doing that presentation.”
“What we did was we … and that includes lowincome residents, learned about government
policies and procedures … regulations under
different legislative bodies from health, fire, and
city … and demanded city council [follow them]…”
c) Created evidence and networked behind the scenes
Conducted or participated in research and wrote papers
Included research conducted by NPOs such as action research,
researched and wrote anthologies, and conducted feasibility
studies. It also included seeking out best practice models locally,
“They [low-income people] helped with the
development of the survey for the feasibility study.”
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DeSantis (2010)
provincially. and nationally. NPOs noted community research
encourages people to talk and problem-solve together.
Talked with marginalized groups and then moved forward
Includes small groups of people getting together to learn, reflect,
and act (e.g., anti-poverty parleys, study circles, consumer/tenant
groups). It also includes chiefs and band councils because even
though Aboriginal communities have their own governments, they
can be marginalized within the larger system of human services.
“We started the anti-poverty parleys. We brought
low-income people.… They talked about their
issues … a list of issues.… Then we brought every
one back together and asked them how we should
address these things.”
Networked with other groups and cross-fertilized issues
Cross-fertilization of issues occurred when people took policy
issues from one meeting to other meetings and explained how
they were linked. For example, this occurred when an NPO took
a shelter subsidy problem that was already being pursued in one
group to another group that was working on a training allowance
problem—both of which were a provincial government issue. Also
included here was collecting signatures on petitions.
“We all kind of sit on each other’s boards … and
there are [mental health] consumers there. Of
course, I’m on other boards as well and if there’s a
big issue … it’s talked about, like at all these
different tables, the critical mass.”
Conditions influencing marginalized people’s involvement
and types of advocacy
NPOs described many conditions that affected their decisions about their advocacy work generally and
the involvement of marginalized people specifically. These conditions add depth to Figure 1 and further
describe the dynamic and fluid nature of advocacy work. Respondents were not explicitly asked about
conditions that affected their advocacy decision-making, but these conditions were revealed through
scanning all the codes and categories as well as through re-reading corresponding segments of
transcripts in search of patterns (Alvesson & Sköldberg, 2000; Yin, 2003). These conditions included
NPO perceptions of marginalized people, their own organizations, other proximal NPOs, governments,
and communities. After a thorough analysis, it appears these conditions do not consistently affect
advocacy processes in the same way or direction. For example, in one community a women’s shelter
encouraged women’s participation in advocacy processes while in another similar-sized community,
a women’s shelter did not engage women at all.
The first set of conditions had to do with NPOs’ perceptions of marginalized people. NPOs’ perceptions of
the barriers faced by marginalized people influenced their choices about advocacy processes, especially
regarding who was given voice and who was not. Using open and axial coding (Strauss & Corbin, 1998),
seven main barriers emerged:
a. psychological barriers (e.g., marginalized people were fearful because of threats from
governments, they may have also felt hopeless, inadequate, isolated, and/or
stigmatized);
b. lack of practical supports (e.g., no transportation, no money, lack of proper clothing to go
to meetings, no access to technology such as computers to access email messages);
36
DeSantis (2010)
c. daily survival issues and lack of time (e.g., daily struggle to find food and shelter, too
many crises and repeated personal and community trauma such as suicides, no capacity
to make a long-term commitment to a process);
d. disabilities (e.g., episodic psychiatric illnesses);
e. language and culture (e.g., lack of sign language interpreters at meetings, an Aboriginal
person’s issue was misinterpreted during a public discussion);
f. lack of awareness and skills (e.g., lack of awareness of policy processes, lack of
understanding of advocacy strategies);
g. structural barriers (e.g., NPOs and governments did not invite marginalized people to
meetings because of their perceptions of the barriers cited above, NPOs thought
meetings might be too formal and thus too intimidating for many people, meetings held in
physically inaccessible buildings).
All of the NPOs offered explanations about opportunities they pursued to help mitigate the
effects of these participation barriers. These included encouraging people to speak out, offering
practical supports like rides to meetings, teaching about advocacy processes, and connecting
with others who share similar issues.
The second collection of conditions had to do with NPOs’ perceptions of their own organizations as well
as the NPOs around them. Within NPOs, advocacy was influenced by the following conditions:
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
available financial resources
the skill sets of the staff and volunteers
the credibility of their organization
time available to pursue advocacy
the perceived sense of power to make change
the priority given to service delivery
the philosophy regarding client engagement and participation (e.g., “We are very careful
about where we’re going to parade her [a victim of intimate partner violence] out”).
With regard to other NPOs, respondents indicated that the advocacy activity was influenced by the
following four conditions:
•
•
•
•
the number and types of NPOs in a given area
the distance separating NPOs
access to communication technology (e.g., email)
the degree of competition for funding among NPOs
The third set of conditions focused on governments. In Saskatchewan there are four levels of government
with which some NPOs must interact, depending on the nature of their policy issue—Aboriginal
governments (e.g., First Nation band and tribal councils, Metis locals); municipal governments; the
provincial government; and the federal government. Within each of these levels of government are different
organizational cultures, rules, functions, behaviours, and levels of financial resources. Thus, different
relationships, types of participation, and types of advocacy ensued between these NPOs and governments,
which in turn affected the participation of marginalized populations. NPO perceptions of governments fell
into six main categories:
37
DeSantis (2010)
a. government level of receptivity to NPOs and their advocacy work (e.g.,
“Governments are now coming to us,” “The government did not like our inter-agency
group and tried to dismantle it”);
b. government rules, functions, silos, and attitudes (e.g., “We have to follow the 10%
rule for charities … we always live in fear”); nine of the 39 NPOs explicitly noted that
CRA rules limited NPO advocacy work while some others stated the rules were so
confusing that it was best to be safe and not engage in overt advocacy;
c. governments-NPOs as partners had a positive spin for some NPOs (e.g., “It’s more
of a two-way street now”), but government advisory committees were labelled
negatively by other NPOs (e.g., “Typical advisory committee thing that you couldn’t
really speak out”);
d. government funding issues, including special project funding (e.g., “More project
funding tied to specific projects means less money and time to do advocacy”), and
that some NPOs signed funding contracts with governments in which they agreed
not to do advocacy;
e. political atmosphere (e.g., “When the government is not responsive we see
community action” and “You’ve got to be vigilant and speak out no matter what
government it is”);
f. government preference for NPO voices was a substitute for marginalized people’s
voices.
The final condition requires comment. In a few instances, NPOs explained that governments preferred
to hear clients’ perspectives through NPOs and not meet directly with clients. It is not clear what might
be the government’s motivation, but one suggestion was as follows:
You know, they’re [government] always looking for a cohesive kind of consensualized
kind of group that they can listen to and they have told us that off and on.… Just
hearing a unified voice on any particular issue … I think that it’s actually grown over
the years.
It is important to flag this item because this preference on the part of certain governments to be presented
with a unified perspective when there is a diversity of experiences among members of any marginalized
group is, in effect, another form of exclusion.
The fourth and final set of conditions focused on communities. Four categories regarding community
emerged from the data:
a. size of the community and visibility of the policy issue (e.g., small-town residents
and NPOs fully supported and advocated for a particular disability policy because a
well-known community resident had that disability);
b. community values regarding who is deserving and undeserving of social services
(e.g., an NPO described a mid-size community where young moms on social
assistance were viewed negatively by residents and a general sentiment seemed to
exist about how they did not deserve services they received from governments);
c. location of the community (e.g., in northern communities people had to travel long
distances for advocacy meetings and to confront governments);
38
DeSantis (2010)
d. crises in communities influenced advocacy work (e.g., a murder in a neighbourhood
spawned a drive for policy change that was very different than if this crisis had not
occurred).
DISCUSSION AND IMPLICATIONS
The research design was intended to collect qualitative data. Merging the provincial and federal
registered nonprofits and charities datasets, and then sorting by community name and location, size of
community, and size of NPO, and then across a variety of marginalized groups, led to the creation of
a heterogeneous sample. The phone interviews with NPOs resulted in a collection of qualitative data that
help us to better understand the complex internal nature of advocacy processes. Future social policy
advocacy research should focus on attaining a larger sample of NPOs using merged datasets, examine
a variety of variables (e.g., organizational resources, environmental incentives, government regulations),
and include marginalized groups as a constituency. In addition, another stream of qualitative research
could sample marginalized individuals and ask about their perceptions and experiences of advocacy
processes (e.g., did they feel included and valued, was their participation coerced, were they further
stigmatized or traumatized during the process, how active were they and at which points in the
processes, and were their policy needs met?).
This research contributes to the literature about NPO-facilitated policy advocacy that involves
marginalized groups of people. The analyzed data reveals that NPOs engage marginalized groups in the
majority of their policy initiatives (i.e., 67%). Some NPOs exclude marginalized groups by “speaking for”
them and others by excluding them in policy advocacy work. When NPOs do this, they reinforce the
exclusion and silence of marginalized groups. This is further reinforced when governments prefer to deal
with NPOs directly rather than marginalized groups. Reasons for this observed preference are not clear,
but it is possible that keeping marginalized people silent serves a neoliberal agenda (see, for example,
Lightman, 2003, p. 256); in effect, social inequities are ignored and healthy public policy development is
compromised.
Depending on how advocacy is operationalized by an NPO, it can create exclusion and non-participation,
which is the antithesis of social justice (Fraser, 2003; Mullaly, 1997). Indeed, a nationwide U.S. study
found that 88% of NPOs “never or rarely involve” their clients in advocacy (Salamon & Lessans Geller,
2008, p. 12); the difference between this rate of exclusion and that of this study (33%) is likely due to
sample bias, because the present study deliberately sought to recruit NPOs that do advocacy with
marginalized groups. In the exclusionary instances, the NPO sector may be viewed as an agent of
government working toward social control (Shragge & Fontan, 2000) rather than social change and
innovation. The implications of exclusion for democratic governance (Abelson et al., 2003; Brock, 2001;
Orsini & Smith, 2007; S. Phillips, 2009) should be a concern for both governments and NPOs.
Policy advocacy is characterized by multiple types and fluid processes created by a variety of conditions.
These conditions included NPO perceptions of marginalized people, their own organizations, the NPOs
around them, governments, and communities. These NPO perceptions illuminate the complex nature of
their advocacy behaviour and add further depth to the typology. These perceptions are related to some of
the variables currently identified in the literature (e.g., an NPO’s perception of government receptivity is
an environmental incentive/disincentive) (refer back to Mosley, 2010; Nicholson-Crotty, 2009; Salamon &
Lessans Geller, 2008). Given the small sample size, it was not possible to discern a pattern in these
39
DeSantis (2010)
conditions. However, NPO perceptions of marginalized people as well as NPO organizational philosophy
regarding civic engagement specifically and social justice generally appear to be salient variables.
Some of the findings point to the existence of “advocacy chill” while other findings do not. Cited literature
leads one to believe that “advocacy chill” is common in Canada (Bridge, 2002; Bridge & Gilbert, 2005;
Elson, 2008; S. Phillips, 2009; Scott, 2003). The results illuminate the presence, absence, and complex
nature of “advocacy chill.” Some NPOs stated that government funding affects their advocacy work while
others indicated it did not. In particular, some NPOs believe competition for government funding among
NPOs reduces the formation of advocacy coalitions, thus advocacy chill appears to influence the type of
advocacy. Some NPOs stated they are careful how they roll out advocacy such that they do not break
any laws while others are not careful at all and believe advocacy is one of their primary NPO functions.
Despite the heterogeneity of the sample, some NPOs working in certain sectors were not part of the
sample (e.g., child care, literacy, international development), so generalizations beyond the sample set
are limited. What is clear is that this chill has differential impacts across NPOs.
CONCLUSION
This exploratory research fills a gap in the literature about NPO-facilitated policy advocacy with
marginalized people. It offers some evidence to answer Mosley’s recent question: Are NPOs “advocating
primarily in support of clients’ concerns”? (Mosley, 2009, p. 19). This evidence suggests that NPOs are
advocating for their clients’ concerns. In some instances they are working with marginalized people and in
other instances, they are working without marginalized people. This research suggests the need to
reconsider the current list of advocacy variables (e.g., organizational constraints, political environment)
that have an impact on NPO advocacy behaviour (Mosley, 2010; Nicholson-Crotty, 2009; Salamon &
Lessans Geller, 2008).
More specifically, NPOs’ perceptions of marginalized people influence advocacy participation, including
forms of involvement in different phases of advocacy processes. These results also shed light on a
potential answer to Elson’s question, “What will Canada’s voluntary sector legacy be in relationship to
social inclusion … and social justice?” (Elson, 2004, p. 222). These findings indicate that some advocacy
processes function as places of social inclusion for marginalized people and offer them an opportunity to
make contributions to social policy (also see Jenson, 1998).
These results expose the internal complexity of NPO-facilitated advocacy with marginalized groups, for
which there appears to be little Canadian primary data. Policy advocacy is characterized by multiple types
and fluid processes. Social policy advocacy as a finite concept with clear defining lines and the routine
involvement of marginalized communities in specific advocacy activities is not reflected across the NPO
data. Social policy advocacy initiatives have life cycles characterized by fluidity over time. At any moment
in time, an initiative may be driven by an NPO coalition but then transform into a round table with
marginalized people and government involvement.
The one common element across the typology presented here is that NPOs’ daily service delivery work
informs advocacy strategies; the data reveal a diversity of policy initiatives that directly benefit
marginalized communities. Advocacy also appears to differ in scale and visibility across NPOs (e.g.,
simply voicing an opinion through a single NPO or undertaking province-wide advocacy involving
70 NPOs), contingent on a variety of conditions that change and interact over time. Some of these
conditions may offer insight into the high level of non-participation of clients in other studies (Salamon &
40
DeSantis (2010)
Lessans Geller, 2008). Finally, “advocacy chill” affects some NPOs but not others and was shown to be
complex in nature. Overall, NPO practitioners appear to have to strategize and balance a number of
dynamic elements when doing advocacy work.
The advocacy typology developed here offers an initial blueprint of NPO-facilitated policy advocacy with
marginalized groups. Taken together, the typology, the varied forms of marginalized people’s
involvement, and the conditions that appear to influence types of advocacy create a preliminary
theoretical sketch of the nature of policy advocacy processes as perceived by NPOs. What remains is to
test the broader applicability of this blueprint to a larger and more diverse sample of social service NPOs
that engage marginalized groups in policy advocacy in Canada.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The author gratefully acknowledges the insightful feedback offered by Dana Woito, Tom McIntosh, Joe
Piwowar, and ANSERJ editor Peter Elson as well as the anonymous reviewers. The author also
acknowledges the support provided by the Community and Population Health Research Training
Program, the Saskatchewan Health Research Foundation, and the Saskatchewan Population Health and
Evaluation Research Unit, University of Regina.
NOTES
1. Neither the registered charities dataset nor the provincial corporations dataset use ICNPO, thus CRA codes
relating to welfare, health other than hospitals, and provision of benefits to the community were used to extract
relevant NPOs. Provincially registered NPOs were checked individually because they are simply classified as
membership or charitable corporations.
2. Refer to Labonte & Edwards (1995), who implemented a similar method.
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About the author
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[email protected].
45
Brouard, Larivet, et Sakka (2010)
Vol. 1, No 1
Automne / Fall 2010
46 – 64
ENTREPRENEURIAT SOCIAL
ET PARTICIPATION CITOYENNE
François Brouard
Carleton University
Sophie Larivet
École Supérieure du Commerce Extérieur, France
Ouafa Sakka
Carleton University
RÉSUMÉ
L’entrepreneuriat social est un concept émergeant, notamment dans les sciences de l’administration. Pourtant, en
dehors d’une pratique directoriale spécifique, il est aussi une forme de participation citoyenne trop méconnue.
L’objectif de cet article, basé sur une revue de la littérature et une approche théorique, est de présenter le concept
d’entrepreneuriat social afin de mieux saisir son positionnement par rapport à la participation citoyenne.
L’entrepreneuriat social constitue une forme particulière de participation à l’espace public par l’action, les
entreprises sociales agissant au quotidien pour transformer le paysage social. En particulier, cet article souligne le
contexte de développement de l’entrepreneuriat social, définit le concept et les notions connexes d’entreprise
sociale et d’entrepreneur social, et, enfin, présente une réflexion sur la contribution de l’entrepreneuriat social à la
participation citoyenne. L’article montre que l’entrepreneuriat social est une façon pour les citoyens d’agir
directement et avec maîtrise sur la société.
ABSTRACT
Social entrepreneurship is an emerging concept, notably in administrative sciences. However, not only is it a
specific managerial practice but it is also a type of citizen participation that is not well-known. The objective of this
article, based on a literature review and a theoretical approach, is to present the concept of social entrepreneurship
in order to better understand its relation to citizen participation. Social entrepreneurship represents a specific type
of citizen participation involving actions. Social enterprises act daily to transform the social landscape. More
specifically, this article presents the context of development of social entrepreneurship, proposes a definition of the
concept and of other connected notions like “social enterprise” and “social entrepreneur”, and, finally, analyzes the
contribution of social entrepreneurship to citizen participation. It shows that social entrepreneurship is a way for
citizens to act directly and with some power on society.
MOTS CLÉS / KEYWORDS
Entrepreneuriat social; Entrepreneur social; Entreprise sociale; Participation citoyenne /
Social entrepreneurship; Social entrepreneur; Social enterprise; Citizen participation
46
INTRODUCTION
La notion de participation des citoyens à l’espace public couvre, d’une part, la
participation citoyenne aux expériences organisées par l’État ou par le biais de
regroupements de la société civile, et, d’autre part, les initiatives mises en œuvre par
les citoyens eux-mêmes. Au niveau de la participation initiée par les citoyens, une
forme particulière d’entrepreneuriat, qu’on appellera ci-après « entrepreneuriat social
», présente une avenue de recherche intéressante puisqu’elle vise un objectif autre
que ceux de l’entrepreneuriat traditionnel : la création de valeur « sociale ». Ainsi,
l’entrepreneuriat social constitue une forme particulière de participation par l’action qui
se situe au niveau des entreprises sociales et des entrepreneurs sociaux agissant au
quotidien pour transformer le paysage de la société (Nicholls, 2006).
L’entrepreneuriat joue un rôle de premier plan dans le développement économique (Davis,
2002; Haugh, 2007), essentiellement par la création de nouveaux emplois. Il est ainsi possible
et souhaitable de générer de nouvelles formes de développement économique local afin de
favoriser les objectifs de développement locaux (Boucher, Favreau, Guindon et Hurtubise,
2000; Joyal, 1999; Thompson, Alvy et Lees, 2000). Dans ce contexte, l’entrepreneuriat social
joue un rôle particulièrement important par la recherche et la mise en œuvre de solutions
innovantes répondant à des problèmes sociaux, tout en mobilisant les citoyens dans ce
processus. Toutefois, ce concept est encore mal connu et cela est d’autant plus vrai au
Canada et dans le monde francophone (Audet et Julien, 2006; Johnson, 2000). Il convient de
noter que, même s’il n’est pas nouveau, l’entrepreneuriat social est un concept émergeant qui
gagne en popularité autour de la planète (Barendsen et Gardner, 2004; Christie et Honig,
2006; Schlee, Curren et Harich, 2009). L’attribution du Prix Nobel de la Paix 2006 à
Mohammad Yunus et à la Graamen Bank est sans contredit un coup de pouce majeur à cette
popularité (Renaud, 2007; Yunus, 2006). Mohammad Yunus a créé la Graamen Bank afin de
permettre aux femmes d’un village du Bangladesh d’accéder au crédit et de combattre
l’injustice et la pauvreté. La Graamen Bank est une institution de microcrédit qui a fait boule
de neige dans le monde et qui aide maintenant des centaines de millions de femmes
(Anderson, Dana et Dana, 2006; Johnson, 2000).
La présente contribution est une étude conceptuelle et exploratoire visant à mettre en
évidence l’apport du concept d’entrepreneuriat social à la notion de participation citoyenne. La
suite du texte se divise en trois grandes parties. La première partie souligne le contexte de
développement du concept d’entrepreneuriat social. La deuxième partie propose une
définition du concept d’entrepreneuriat social et tente de le distinguer d’autres concepts
connexes. La troisième partie présente une réflexion sur la contribution de l’entrepreneuriat
social à la participation citoyenne. Une conclusion termine le tout.
CONTEXTE DE DÉVELOPPEMENT DE L’ENTREPRENEURIAT SOCIAL
Pour mieux comprendre le concept d’entrepreneuriat social, il est utile de situer le contexte de
développement de ce concept qui, de fait, justifie son importance grandissante (Dees, 1998;
Johnson, 2000; National Center for Social Entrepreneurs, 2001). Traditionnellement, les
missions associées à l’entrepreneuriat social, telles que fournir des services de support aux
femmes, ou éduquer les personnes démunies, sont assumées par les organismes sans but
lucratif (secteur bénévole et communautaire) ou par les États eux-mêmes (secteur public). Il y
47
a donc lieu d’analyser les principales raisons pour lesquelles des entreprises se tournent
aujourd’hui vers l’entrepreneuriat social. Il faut noter qu’au Canada, le développement de ce
type particulier d’entrepreneuriat est encore à un stade embryonnaire avec des variations
selon les provinces (Guay et Riverin, 2006; Johnson, 2000; 2003). Les éléments explicatifs
évoqués ci-dessous peuvent avoir une importance plus ou moins grande selon les pays ou
régions.
Une première raison pour le développement de l’entrepreneuriat social réside dans le besoin
de financement des missions sociales. Les gouvernements peuvent décider de diminuer le
financement de certains services afin de mieux équilibrer leur budget, ou de changer la
répartition de ce financement. Les organismes à but non lucratif à vocation sociale,
contrairement aux idées reçues, ne sont que très partiellement financés par des dons privés
(fondations, particuliers). Ils dépendent majoritairement des financements publics et, dans une
moindre mesure, de leurs autres sources de revenus (par exemple, adhésions, mais aussi
revenus d’activités commerciales) (Salamon, Anheier, List, Toepler, Sokolowski et Associates,
1999). Les organisations à vocation sociale ont donc besoin de se prémunir contre les
fluctuations éventuelles de leurs financements externes qui peuvent mettre en danger la
livraison des services sociaux. Elles doivent développer de nouvelles formes de financement,
telles que le financement par des activités commerciales qui est potentiellement plus fiable et
stable que les dons et subventions. Cela est d’autant plus vrai dans une période de difficultés
économiques qui peut avoir des répercussions importantes pour les organisations sociales
(Arts Quarter, 2009).
Une deuxième raison est l’existence de besoins sociaux grandissants. En effet, avec un
certain désengagement de l’État dans de nombreux secteurs, les organisations à vocation
sociale doivent répondre à des besoins de plus en plus nombreux et diversifiés. Par exemple,
de nouveaux besoins ont vu le jour au fil des dernières années, face à des phénomènes tels
le sida, les enfants avec des problèmes d’accoutumance à la drogue, et le vieillissement de la
population. Ainsi, les changements démographiques ont un effet sur la société en général
(Foot et Stoffman, 1996) et posent des défis particuliers au niveau des services et du
financement dans une perspective à long terme. Ces changements ajoutent également à la
croissance de certains besoins touchant particulièrement la génération des « bebe-boumers ».
Une troisième raison est l’apparition d’organisations plus nombreuses pour répondre aux
besoins grandissants. Cette prolifération d’organisations amène une compétitivité accrue pour
ce qui est du financement et des services et requiert des solutions innovatrices pour que
l’organisation puisse survivre. De plus, des entreprises à but lucratif entrent en compétition
avec l’État ou les organisations à but non lucratif pour la livraison de certains services. C’est le
cas depuis peu en France, pour l’aide aux chômeurs dans leur recherche d’emploi.
Une quatrième raison est l’appel à la responsabilisation dans l’utilisation des fonds obtenus.
Les scandales financiers n’ont pas touché, ces dernières années, que les sphères privée
(Enron, Norbourg) et publique (scandale des commandites et Commission Gomery au
Canada, notes de frais des élus britanniques). Les organisations à vocation sociale, elles
aussi, ont fait la une des journaux pour leur mauvaise gestion ou des affaires délictueuses
(scandale de l’ARC en France, de l’UNICEF au Kenya). Une exigence plus grande des
bailleurs de fonds et du public face à l’utilisation des fonds publics ou privés s’est développée
(Cutt et Murray, 2000) et entraîne une pression pour une meilleure gouvernance. L’efficacité
et la proactivité désormais requises des organisations à vocation sociale peuvent les conduire
à adopter par isomorphisme des modes de gouvernance proches de ceux des entreprises
privées (Queinec, 2007).
48
Une cinquième raison est l’acceptation de plus en plus grande du marché comme mécanisme
capable de combler les besoins sociaux en faisant appel au pouvoir de la compétition tout en
favorisant l’innovation et l’efficacité organisationnelle (Dees, 1998). Cela peut aussi se traduire
par une modification importante des infrastructures (Yunus, 2006). Certaines critiques
apparaissent toutefois contre le « philanthrocapitalisme » (Edwards, 2008) : le recours aux
logiques de marché et l’entrepreneuriat social, notamment à grande échelle, ne sont pas une
panacée (par exemple, il existe un risque de vision à court terme) et ne résolvent pas tous les
problèmes de la société (notamment le manque de solidarité bénévole).
Ces diverses raisons expliquent l’emballement pour le phénomène de l’entrepreneuriat social
depuis quelques années, emballement qui se traduit par les initiatives de nombreux individus
et par leur corollaire : la multiplication des travaux académiques tentant de circonscrire et de
comprendre le phénomène de l’entrepreneuriat social. La section qui suit tente de définir
l’entrepreneuriat social et de le distinguer de certaines notions qui y sont reliées.
ENTREPRENEURIAT SOCIAL : DÉFINITION ET CONCEPTS CONNEXES
Comme il faut s’y attendre avec un concept en émergence, plusieurs définitions de
l’entrepreneuriat social existent dans la littérature (Brouard et Larivet, 2009; Bacq et Janssen,
2008a, 2008b; Zhara, Gadajlovic, Neubaum et Shulman, 2006), et aucune n’est unanimement
acceptée. Toutefois, il y a un consensus sur la multidimensionalité de ce concept et sur la
présence d’une double filiation, soit l’entrepreneuriat et le social (Mair et Marti, 2006; Nicholls,
2006; Peredo et McLean, 2006; Sullivan Mort, Weerawardena et Carnegie, 2003).
La première facette du concept, « l’entrepreneuriat », correspond au démarrage d’activité et à
la création de valeur pour les entrepreneurs et la société (Peredo et McLean, 2006; Sullivan
Mort et al., 2003). L’entrepreneur utilise l’innovation pour saisir des occasions d’affaires et
mobilise les ressources à sa disposition pour atteindre des objectifs précis.
La deuxième facette correspond à la mission « sociale » (Brickerhoff, 2000; Tan, Williams et
Tan, 2005; Ulhoi, 2005) qui représente l’élément central distinguant l’entrepreneuriat social de
l’entrepreneuriat traditionnel. Sans cette mission, il n’y a vraisemblablement pas
d’entrepreneuriat social. La mission sociale peut toutefois être combinée à une mission
économique. L’entreprise sociale joue un rôle d’agent de changement social d’une manière
consciente et non seulement involontaire ou collatérale (Sullivan Mort et al., 2003).
En nous basant sur des travaux antérieurs (Brouard et Larivet, 2009, p.11), nous proposons la
définition suivante :
L’entrepreneuriat social est un concept qui représente l’ensemble des
activités et des processus pour créer et soutenir la valeur sociale en utilisant
des approches entrepreneuriales et innovantes et en tenant compte des
contraintes de l’environnement externe.
La Figure 1 présente un modèle conceptuel qui fournit une explication plus large de la
définition de l’entrepreneuriat social. Tout d’abord, une entreprise avec entrepreneuriat social
peut avoir une mission à la fois économique et sociale. Cependant, il est essentiel qu’il y ait
une prédominance au niveau de la mission sociale parce qu’il s’agit de l’élément central qui
distingue ce type d’entreprise (Tan et al., 2005; Ulhoi, 2005). Ensuite, la présence de besoins
sociaux signifie pour un entrepreneur social l’existence d’occasions qu’il est possible de saisir.
49
La dimension entrepreneuriale amène un souci d’innovation et une attitude proactive quant à
la façon de combler ces besoins tout en créant de la valeur ajoutée (Sullivan Mort et al.,
2003). L’ensemble de l’entreprise sociale vise ainsi une création de valeur qui contribuerait à
la satisfaction des besoins sociaux et à l’initiation d’une certaine transformation sociale.
Par ailleurs, les entreprises sociales sont dépendantes de l’environnement externe
puisqu’elles obtiennent généralement les ressources financières et humaines des
gouvernements, des bailleurs de fonds, des philanthropes et des bénévoles, sous forme de
dons et de subventions. De même, les investisseurs et les clients sont des groupes qui
doivent être pris en compte par l’entreprise sociale en raison de leur impact sur les ressources
obtenues par l’entreprise. En plus de ces sources de financement, l’entreprise est assujettie
aux forces qui s’exercent sur elle par le macro-environnement (fiscalité relative aux dons et
aux entreprises sociales, innovations technologiques, démographie…) ou par les parties
prenantes (clients, employés, gouvernements, médias…). Ainsi, les entreprises sociales
doivent, comme les entreprises classiques, surveiller les forces de l’environnement externe et
s’y adapter. La gouvernance et la création de valeur sont également des dimensions
importantes de l’entrepreneuriat social. En effet, l’entreprise doit pouvoir expliquer et justifier
ses actions, tant au niveau économique que social, parce qu’elle aura à en rendre compte à
ses financiers et aux différentes parties prenantes.
En examinant le concept d’entrepreneuriat social, il est de mise de distinguer également les
concepts d’économie sociale, d’entreprise sociale et d’entrepreneur social. L’entrepreneur
social occupe une place privilégiée dans l’entreprise sociale qui elle-même se situe dans
l’ensemble de l’économie sociale. Il y a toutefois lieu de distinguer ces trois concepts, car ils
ne sont pas identiques, même s’ils sont interreliés et parfois utilisés à tort comme des
50
synonymes. Ainsi, il est possible de distinguer les différents types d’entreprise sociale selon
les secteurs et les types d’organisation.
Selon Painter (2006), trois grands secteurs peuvent être mentionnés, soit le secteur public et
le secteur privé aux deux extrêmes et l’économie sociale, incluant les ONG (organisations non
gouvernementales). Le secteur public fait référence aux gouvernements fédéraux, provinciaux
et territoriaux et aux administrations locales (entités municipales). De par leur nature même,
plusieurs entités du secteur public visent une mission sociale et certaines pourraient donc être
considérées comme des entreprises sociales. Le secteur privé comprend les entités visant la
maximisation du bénéfice.
L’économie sociale se définit comme « l’évolution de diverses combinaisons d’organisations
non gouvernementales (ONG) produisant et offrant des biens et services dans les collectivités
au Canada et ailleurs dans le monde depuis plus d’un siècle » (Painter, 2006, p.30).
L’économie sociale peut être vue comme une action collective axée autour de trois
dimensions—sociale, économique et politique—qui donne la formule « s’associer pour
entreprendre autrement » (Favreau, 2005). Reprenant la synthèse de Favreau (2005), il est
possible de cerner ces trois dimensions : 1) « S’associer » permet de répondre à des besoins
socioéconomiques, socioculturels et sociopolitiques de se regrouper dans des organisations
démocratiques (c'est-à-dire où les décisions de gestion respectent le principe général « une
personne, une voix », même si ce principe souffre parfois d’exceptions); 2) « Entreprendre »
permet d’affronter le marché dans la production de biens et services; 3) « Autrement » permet
la pluralité d’engagements citoyens avec des mobiles sociopolitiques divers. L’entrepreneur
social ne s’attarde pas nécessairement sur la dimension politique et l’aspect démocratique,
mais porte une attention prépondérante au volet « entreprendre » pour répondre à des
besoins sociaux.
Il y a aussi lieu de distinguer l’entreprise sociale et l’entrepreneur social. L’entrepreneur social
est la personne ou le groupe de personnes qui agit à titre de catalyseur de l’entreprise sociale
et met à profit ses habiletés entrepreneuriales pour faire avancer l’entreprise sociale. Les
entrepreneurs sociaux ne sont pas des gens « raisonnables » selon les critères habituels de
l’économie (Elkington et Hartigan, 2008); ils prennent des risques que d’autres ne prendraient
pas parce qu’ils croient fermement en la capacité de chacun à contribuer au développement
et préfèrent inventer des solutions innovantes plutôt que de se résigner aux lourdeurs
bureaucratiques qui freinent les changements sociaux. Ils sont impatients, visionnaires,
ambitieux et osent voir des sources de profit là où le marché est réputé inefficace. Ils osent
penser la combinaison de l’économique et du social, et ils osent la mettre en œuvre. Ils
tentent de changer le monde qui les entoure pour l’adapter à leurs convictions optimistes
(Bornstein, 2007; Elkington et Hartigan, 2008).
Le Tableau A présente brièvement une comparaison des entrepreneurs sociaux et des
entrepreneurs économiques (ou traditionnels). Les dimensions de cette comparaison sont :
les forces, l’accent, la perspective temporelle, l’étendue des produits et services, les
bénéfices, les risques et le besoin d’autonomie.
51
Tableau A - Comparaison des types d’entrepreneurs
Entrepreneurs sociaux
Entrepreneurs économiques
Forces
expérience collective
habileté et énergie personnelle
Accent
développement de capacités
gain financier
long terme
court terme
limitée par vision
aucune limite
le profit est un moyen
le profit est une fin
réinvestissement
distribution aux actionnaires
Risques
actifs de l’organisation, image
et confiance
Autonomie
rendre l’organisation non
dépendante de donateurs
actifs personnels et des
investisseurs
prendre sa destinée en main
plutôt que de dépendre d’un
employeur
Perspective
temporelle
Étendue des
produits et services
Bénéfices
Source : National Center for Social Entrepreneurs (2001, p. 5)
Certains entrepreneurs sociaux sont extrêmement célèbres. Par exemple, dans le domaine de
l’éducation, Maria Montessori a établi des écoles tout d’abord en Italie et puis ailleurs dans le
monde. Florence Nightingale a changé la formation en science infirmière et le domaine de la
santé au Royaume-Uni ainsi que dans d’autres pays. Il ne faut toutefois pas assimiler
entrepreneur social et entreprise sociale : une entreprise sociale n’est pas forcément dirigée
par un entrepreneur social. Par exemple, les multiples filiales ou co-entreprises de la
Grameen Bank ne sont pas forcément dirigées par des personnes présentant les
caractéristiques de l’entrepreneur social.
Quant à l’entreprise sociale, on peut la représenter comme un système social avec une
interprétation très large ou comme une entité incluant la notion de commerce (Briand, 2001).
Ainsi, Ménard (2004) exclut les entités à caractère non marchand, telle une association
philanthropique, de la définition d’une entreprise. Favreau (2006) propose d’ailleurs une
typologie de trois grandes familles d’organisations de l’économie sociale, soit les associations,
les coopératives et les mutuelles. Pour notre part, l’entreprise sociale est interprétée de
manière très large et peut se définir tout simplement comme une organisation qui vise
principalement des objectifs sociaux. On peut alors répartir les différentes activités de ces
entreprises sociales sur un axe allant de l’offre de produits ou services d’intérêt « public » ou «
général » qui servent les intérêts de toute une population donnée, à l’offre de produits ou
services d’intérêt « commun » ou « collectif » (Painter, 2006) visant à répondre aux intérêts de
seulement un groupe donné de membres ou de participants. Un exemple d’intérêt général
pourrait être une soupe populaire ou une entreprise qui favorise l’insertion sur le marché du
travail alors qu’un exemple d’intérêt collectif pourrait être une association sportive organisant
les activités de hockey des enfants d’une localité ou d’une coopérative de travailleurs
forestiers.
Les entreprises sociales peuvent prendre différentes formes et il est possible de les distinguer
selon différentes caractéristiques (Alter, 2006; Crossan, Bell et Ibbotson, 2003). Pour mieux
comprendre la diversité des formes que revêtent ces organismes, il est possible d’examiner
les types d’entreprises. Il y a les entreprises gouvernementales, comme les départements, les
52
agences et les sociétés de la Couronne et les entreprises paragouvernementales qui, tout en
conservant une certaine autonomie, sont quand même dépendantes des ressources de l’État,
comme les hôpitaux et les universités. Lorsqu’il est question d’économie sociale, la mention
du secteur sans but lucratif et bénévole est aussi inévitable et très liée (Valéau, Cimper et
Filion, 2004). Pour certains, la majorité des entreprises sociales sont des organismes sans but
lucratif (OSBL). Un organisme sans but lucratif est une « entité qui n’a normalement pas de
titres de propriété transférables et dont l’organisation et le fonctionnement visent
exclusivement des fins sociales, éducatives, professionnelles, religieuses, charitables, ou de
santé, ou toute autre fin à caractère non lucratif » (Institut Canadien des Comptables Agréés,
2009, paragraphe 4400.02a). Par opposition, une entreprise à but lucratif est une « entité
établie dans le but de réaliser des profits et dont les titres de capital ou autres droits de
propriété sont généralement transférables et susceptibles de procurer un profit à son
propriétaire exploitant, ses associés ou ses actionnaires, ou de leur occasionner une perte »
(Ménard, 2004, p.935). Les entreprises hybrides se situent entre l’entreprise sans but lucratif
et l’entreprise à but lucratif, ayant des visées à la fois philanthropiques et commerciales qui
peuvent emprunter des caractéristiques de chacune. Une coopérative d’alimentation
représente un exemple d’entreprise hybride.
Afin de mieux comprendre le concept, il peut être utile de présenter les entreprises sociales
en comparant les rôles social et commercial (Austin, Stevenson et Wei-Skillern, 2006).
Comme l’illustre le Tableau B, les entreprises sociales peuvent être comparées à des
entreprises socialement responsables, à des entreprises socialement neutres et à des
entreprises socialement irresponsables.
Tableau B - Comparaison des rôles sociaux et commerciaux des entreprises
Type d’entreprise
Entreprise sociale
Rôle social
Rôle
exclusivement
social
Rôle social
prioritaire
Entreprise
socialement
responsable
Entreprise
socialement
neutre
Entreprise
socialement
irresponsable
Rôle social
minoritaire
Rôle commercial
Échanges
commerciaux
Aucun échange
commercial
Présence
d’échanges
commerciaux
Répartition des bénéfices
commerciaux
S/O
Bénéfices répartis à 100%
vers le social
Bénéfices répartis
majoritairement vers le social
Bénéfices répartis
minoritairement vers le social
et majoritairement aux
actionnaires
Aucun rôle
social
Bénéfices répartis à 100% aux
actionnaires
Rôle social
négatif
Bénéfices répartis à 100% aux
actionnaires
Le rôle commercial évoqué dans le Tableau B comprend deux dimensions, soit la présence
d’échanges commerciaux et la répartition des bénéfices commerciaux. L’entreprise sociale
doit accorder un rôle exclusif ou prioritaire au rôle social. Le rôle économique est secondaire.
53
Il peut ou non y avoir des échanges commerciaux. Au niveau de la répartition des bénéfices
commerciaux, les entreprises sociales répartiront totalement ou majoritairement les bénéfices
vers le social plutôt qu’aux actionnaires.
La colonne relative au rôle social permet de mettre en évidence le niveau d’engagement
social des différentes catégories d’entreprises comparées dans le tableau B. Ce critère du rôle
social fait inévitablement référence à la notion de responsabilité sociale de l’entreprise (RSE),
définie comme « l'intégration volontaire par les entreprises de préoccupations sociales et
environnementales à leurs activités commerciales et leurs relations avec leurs parties
prenantes » (European Commission, 2001). La diffusion mondiale de ce concept a donné lieu
à des modes d’appropriation que Capron qualifie pudiquement de « graduées » (Capron,
2009, p. 2). Tout d’abord parce que la RSE inclut de nombreuses problématiques, telles que
les droits humains et ceux des travailleurs, l’environnement, l’éthique, etc., et que les
entreprises s’impliquent à des degrés divers dans chacune d’entre elles. Mais surtout parce
que les actions des entreprises couvrent toute une palette, allant d’un engagement réel,
sincère et efficace, à des pratiques de détournement qualifiées de greenwashing
(« mascarade écologique ») ou de socialwashing. Ces dernières consistent à utiliser les
thèmes de la RSE comme arguments de communication destinés à améliorer la réputation de
l’entreprise sans réelle modification du comportement de celle-ci.
Trois conceptions de la RSE coexistent (Capron, 2009) : une conception plus ou moins
traditionnelle et paternaliste qui conduit, par exemple, à des actions philanthropiques; une
conception plus utilitariste, encouragée notamment par la Commission européenne, qui
repose sur l’idée que la RSE a des retombées économiques positives; enfin, une conception
plus citoyenne, basée sur l’idée d’un encastrement de l’entreprise dans la société, qui rendrait
la firme nécessairement redevable à la société. Cependant, aucune de ces conceptions
n’implique que le volet social doit primer sur le volet économique. Il s’agit davantage pour
l’entreprise, même dans la dernière des trois conceptions, d’assumer pleinement les
conséquences sociales ou environnementales de son activité. L’idée de la RSE est davantage
de faire un profit tout en faisant le bien (ou sans faire de mal), que de faire du bien tout en
faisant un profit.
Si l’on revient aux différentes catégories d’entreprises présentées dans le Tableau B, une
entreprise sociale n’est donc pas une entreprise qui a une politique de RSE, même sincère :
elle va au-delà, en faisant de sa mission sociale une priorité. Une entreprise socialement
responsable serait, toujours au sens du tableau B, une entreprise qui ne place pas le rôle
social au premier plan mais est tout de même attentive aux besoins de la société et à son rôle
dans celle-ci. En ce sens, ce serait une entreprise dont le rôle est prioritairement économique,
mais appliquant effectivement les principes de la RSE à des degrés divers. En revanche, une
entreprise pratiquant le socialwashing pourrait relever de la catégorie « entreprise neutre »
(rôle social ni positif ni négatif), voire « entreprise irresponsable », si elle se dit responsable
tout en ayant un impact social négatif.
Pour illustrer le concept d’entreprise sociale telle que définie dans le Tableau B, on peut citer
Ashoka, Grameen Bank au Bangladesh, Bangladesh Rural Advancement Committee, Green
Belt Movement au Kenya, Highlander Research and Education Center aux États-Unis, Plan
Puebla au Mexique et Self-Employed Women’s Association en Inde (Alvord, Brown et
Letts,2004). Au Canada, Johnson (2003) a répertorié, notamment, Meal Exchange à
Waterloo, Santropol Roulant à Montréal, Generation Solar à Peterborough, Home Grown
Organic Food à Halifax, Youth One à Edmonton et Humanity Link à Toronto. D’autres
54
exemples intéressants sont les Centres de pédiatrie sociale du Dr Gilles Julien, le restaurant
Robin des Bois à Montréal, Communauto et Virtuocar.
Ces précisions sur les différents concepts liés à l’entrepreneuriat social montrent que ce
phénomène repose à la fois sur des personnes et des organisations. La section suivante
s’attache à montrer que ces entrepreneurs sociaux ont choisi une forme d’engagement qui
relève de la participation citoyenne dont le lieu privilégié d’expression est l’entreprise sociale.
CONTRIBUTION DE L’ENTREPRENEURIAT SOCIAL
À LA PARTICIAPATION CITOYENNE
Il convient de noter tout d’abord que la participation citoyenne est un concept large et difficile
à définir puisqu’il peut y avoir différentes significations selon les disciplines. Par exemple, on
le retrouve en sciences politiques comme un sous-concept de la participation publique qui
désigne la participation des citoyens aux dispositifs institués par l’État (Bherer, 2006), ainsi
qu’en sociologie dans les études s’intéressant à la participation des individus à la définition et
au changement de leur société par des actions concrètes et non par un simple engagement
émotionnel (Couton et Gaudet, 2008). La participation sociale fait aussi l’objet d’études en
anthropologie qui abordent les diverses formes de citoyenneté selon les contextes culturels
(Paley, 2002).
Une définition très classique de la participation citoyenne est donnée par Arnstein, selon
lequel il s’agit d’« une expression radicale qui désigne le pouvoir des citoyens » (CES, 2006,
p.1). Selon nous, afin de mieux saisir le concept de la participation citoyenne, il convient de
préciser les dimensions de la citoyenneté et les différentes actions que les citoyens peuvent
entreprendre pour l’exprimer. Selon Lemieux (2004), la citoyenneté représente « un terrain
délimité par trois bornes de nature civique, politique et sociale respectivement ». Ce même
auteur soutient qu’à chacune de ces bornes correspond une dimension de la participation
citoyenne. Il s’agit de : (1) la délibération démocratique qui consiste à prendre part dans les
débats sur les enjeux sociaux, politiques et économiques; (2) la participation politique qui
consiste pour les citoyens d’exercer les droits politiques qui leurs sont conférés, dont le plus
important est le droit de vote, et (3) la participation à la société civile qui consiste dans
l’implication des citoyens non pas dans les partis politiques ou les instances
gouvernementales mais plutôt dans des organisations (telles que les entreprises sociales et
les associations) dont l’objectif est de défendre et de faire connaître des droits sociaux.
Tableau C - Les huit échelons sur l’échelle de participation d’Arnstein
8
7
6
5
4
3
2
1
Échelons de participation
Contrôle citoyen
Délégation de pouvoir
Partenariat
Rassurance
Consultation
Information
Thérapie
Manipulation
Niveau de participation
Pouvoir effectif des citoyens
Coopération symbolique
Non participation
55
La participation citoyenne va au-delà d’un simple engagement émotionnel pour se manifester
par des efforts, actes et gestes concrets et visibles qui sont adoptés par les citoyens. Dans ce
cadre, Arnstein (1969) définit huit niveaux de participation citoyenne (voir le Tableau C en
lisant à partir du bas) qui vont de la non participation à la participation correspondant à un
pouvoir effectif des citoyens. Même si nous convenons avec l’auteur que cette échelle est
simplificatrice, elle comporte une utilité pour faciliter la compréhension des gestes posés et
pour situer l’ensemble des actions, incluant l’entrepreneuriat social.
Les deux niveaux inférieurs correspondent à des exemples de non participation. Les
détenteurs du pouvoir accordent un semblant de participation aux citoyens, sans leur donner
le véritable pouvoir de changer les choses. Le cas de la « manipulation » ressemble à un
exercice de relations publiques où l'on influence et instrumentalise le soutien des citoyens.
Par exemple, ces derniers sont invités à appartenir à un comité consultatif qui va les conduire
à apposer un sceau sur des projets en fait déjà validés. Dans le cas de la « thérapie »,
l'artifice consiste à impliquer les citoyens dans un processus qui tend à leur faire accepter leur
situation, voire à les culpabiliser par rapport à elle, tout en leur faisant croire qu'on cherche à
agir avec eux pour résoudre le problème.
Les trois niveaux du milieu correspondent à des exemples de coopération symbolique. Ainsi,
les citoyens ont un certain accès à l’information et peuvent se faire entendre, sans pour autant
avoir de véritable pouvoir de décision. L’« information » des citoyens face à leurs droits,
responsabilités et options est une étape importante de leur participation. Elle ne doit toutefois
pas se limiter à une communication à sens unique, qui ne laisse pas place à la négociation.
Par exemple, il peut s’agir de distribuer des dépliants avec certaines informations choisies ou
d’organiser une réunion avec de l’information superficielle. Solliciter l’avis des citoyens lors
d’une « consultation » est aussi un processus intéressant. Encore faut-il qu’il y ait prise en
compte des préoccupations et idées émises. Par exemple, il peut s’agir d’audiences
publiques, d’enquête d’opinions ou de réunions de quartier. Dans le cas de la « rassurance »,
il y a une certaine influence du public, qui reste toutefois très limitée. Par exemple, la
nomination d’un nombre insuffisant de représentants socioéconomiques triés sur le volet dans
des comités permet à ceux qui détiennent le pouvoir de conserver la majorité du pouvoir
décisionnel.
Les trois niveaux supérieurs correspondent à des exemples de pouvoir effectif des citoyens. Il
y a donc une négociation et un échange avec les détenteurs du pouvoir. Le « partenariat »
permet une redistribution du pouvoir. Par exemple, il peut s’agir de la participation à des
comités où il y a un réel partage des responsabilités et des décisions entre les citoyens et les
détenteurs du pouvoir. La « délégation de pouvoir » assure que les citoyens soient munis de
moyens suffisants pour exercer une influence réelle et même dominer le pouvoir décisionnel.
Enfin, le « contrôle citoyen » correspond à un niveau de participation où les citoyens
détiennent le contrôle véritable des décisions, s’ils le désirent. Par exemple, la nomination
d’un nombre majoritaire de représentants dans des comités permet à ceux-ci d’exercer
pleinement le pouvoir décisionnel. Ainsi, seuls les niveaux les plus élevés (partenariat,
délégation de pouvoir et contrôle citoyen) correspondent à une participation citoyenne
effective, c'est-à-dire à un véritable pouvoir de décision, voire de gestion.
Tout en nous concentrant sur ces trois derniers niveaux de l’échelle d’Arnstein (pouvoir effectif
des citoyens), nous soutenons que la participation citoyenne effective correspond à
l’ensemble des actions par lesquelles les citoyens participent à l’espace public et dans la
société et ce, suite à des initiatives pouvant provenir de trois sources différentes, soit : l’État,
56
les regroupements de la société civile et les citoyens eux-mêmes. Le Tableau D présente des
exemples d’initiatives prises par ces trois sources.
Tableau D – Exemples d’initiatives de participation citoyenne
Initiateur
Exemples
d’initiatives
État
- élections
- assemblée
citoyenne
- conseil de
quartier
- comité
d’usager
dans les
hôpitaux
- audience
publique
Regroupements de
la société civile
- activités d’une
association
communautaire
(manifestation,
lobbying)
- opération de
soutien à des
réfugiés
organisée par un
parti politique
- opération de
défense d’un
bassin d’emploi
organisée par un
syndicat
Citoyens
- création d’une
entreprise avec une
mission sociale
- travail dans une
entreprise sociale
- bénévolat dans une
entreprise sociale
- achat auprès d’une
entreprise sociale
- engagement
communautaire
- membre d’une
coopérative de
travailleurs
- opinion du lecteur
dans les journaux
Occasions de
participation
citoyenne créées
au sein des
entreprises
sociales
Premièrement, il y a les initiatives de l’État. La participation des citoyens aux élections par le
biais du vote ou à une audience publique organisée par le gouvernement sont des exemples
de participation citoyenne à des initiatives de l’État. L’Organisation de coopération et de
développement économiques atteste dans son rapport Des citoyens partenaires (OCDE,
2001) que l’implication des citoyens dans la prise de décision publique est un élément de la
bonne gouvernance. D’ailleurs, le Canada a augmenté le nombre de forums et de débats
publics officiels ces dernières années (Bherer, 2006). Dans ce cadre, on peut citer des
assemblées des citoyens en Colombie-Britannique et en Ontario (Warren, 2008) ainsi que les
deux consultations publiques au Québec sur les accommodements raisonnables et la
condition de vie des aînés. Il semble ainsi qu’on témoigne d’un véritable virage participatif qui
reconnaît de plus en plus aux citoyens un droit de regard sur l’action des gouvernements et
les incite à prendre part dans le processus de décision publique (Blatrix, 2002).
Deuxièmement, il y a les initiatives des regroupements de la société civile. Ainsi, divers
groupes (organismes communautaires, partis politiques, syndicats) s’impliquent dans les
débats de société en organisant des manifestations ou des programmes. À l’automne 2009, la
revitalisation du Parc Lansdowne à Ottawa a suscité de vifs débats autour d’un projet de
partenariat entre un groupe d’entrepreneurs et le Conseil municipal. Dans ce cadre,
l’Association des résidents du quartier Glebe, où se trouve le parc en question près du canal
Rideau, a été particulièrement active pour s’opposer au projet qui a néanmoins reçu l’aval du
Conseil municipal.
Troisièmement, les citoyens eux-mêmes peuvent amener des initiatives visant à rendre
service à la société et à participer à la définition du collectif. Dans ce groupe d’initiatives, nous
distinguons tout d’abord les initiatives centrées principalement autour de l’entrepreneuriat
social et des entreprises sociales. Notons la création d’une entreprise avec une mission
57
sociale, le travail dans une entreprise sociale, l’adhésion à une coopérative de travailleurs, le
bénévolat dans des entreprises sociales et l’achat auprès d’une entreprise sociale.
En résumé, l’entrepreneuriat social se situe tout d’abord dans la troisième dimension de la
participation citoyenne (à savoir la participation à la société civile), aux trois niveaux
supérieurs de l’échelle d’Arnstein (pouvoir effectif des citoyens) et résulte des initiatives
entreprises par les citoyens eux-mêmes. Les entrepreneurs sociaux sont, en effet, des
individus qui essaient de répondre à des besoins sociaux spécifiques en proposant des
solutions innovatrices et en impliquant d’autres personnes dans leur démarche.
L’entrepreneuriat social, en tant qu’ensemble d’activités et de processus permettant de créer
et maintenir de la valeur sociale, constitue un cadre dans lequel des individus peuvent
soutenir ou participer à un système de gouvernance dont les principaux objectifs sont sociaux
et non politiques (au sens de système de décision politique) ou principalement économiques
(bien que des activités économiques puissent être menées par une entreprise sociale). En
agissant dans le cadre d’une entreprise sociale, l’entrepreneur social donne l’occasion à
d’autres citoyens d’exprimer leur citoyenneté, en leur permettant par exemple de travailler
bénévolement dans l’entreprise sociale ou en leur vendant ses produits et services dans le
principal but d’obtenir leur soutien dans son parcours.
Dans ce cadre, l’entrepreneur social constitue un archétype de citoyen qui décide d’utiliser
une démarche entrepreneuriale pour répondre à des besoins sociaux. Loin de participer
symboliquement au changement social, il décide d’agir de façon innovante et se donne le
pouvoir de s’aider soi-même et d’aider les autres. Le lieu privilégié de ce type de participation
citoyenne est alors l’entreprise sociale, qui va constituer l’organisation (et son système de
gouvernance) par laquelle des citoyens peuvent agir plus ou moins directement sur la société.
Cette participation peut prendre plusieurs formes : l’entrepreneur « créateur » de l’entreprise
sociale a déjà été évoqué ci-dessus, mais il n’est pas le seul à « participer » à la société par le
truchement de l’entreprise sociale. On peut en effet analyser le rôle des salariés, bénévoles et
des éventuels clients d’une entreprise sociale comme une participation citoyenne plus ou
moins directe. À des titres divers, ils sont des partenaires de l’entreprise sociale; ils lui
fournissent des ressources, et peuvent, selon les cas, participer à la conduite de l’entreprise,
ou l’influencer en tant que parties prenantes.
Pour illustrer notre propos, citons quelques exemples relevant de cette catégorie. Tout
d’abord, un exemple permet de lier l’entreprise sociale et la participation citoyenne d’une
manière très directe. À ce propos, le parcours de Saïd Hammouche, créateur de Mozaïk RH
(cabinet de recrutement spécialisé dans le placement de jeunes issus de la diversité et des
quartiers difficiles), est pertinent. Il a choisi de saisir l’occasion que représentait la mauvaise
prise en compte de ce besoin social par le secteur public en France pour proposer une offre
professionnelle originale venant satisfaire une demande bien réelle (Mozaïk RH, s.d.). Saïd
Hammouche participe à la résolution d’un problème de société en assumant le contrôle réel
de son activité sociale.
Situé à Montréal, Robin des Bois est un restaurant à but non lucratif où quelques employés
sont soutenus par des bénévoles (Robin des Bois, s.d.). Tous les profits réalisés par les
ventes de repas et de produits sont redistribués à quelques organismes de bienfaisance
choisis qui œuvrent dans la communauté montréalaise afin de vaincre la solitude, l’isolement
et la pauvreté. Les six organismes choisis par Robin des Bois pour bénéficier de leur soutien
sont : le Chaînon, le Refuge des jeunes, Chez Doris, Jeunesse au soleil, Santropol Roulant et
Cactus Montréal. Les trois premiers sont des refuges pour femmes ou jeunes en difficulté,
tandis que les trois suivants sont : un centre communautaire, un service de popote roulante et
58
un service d’intervention au niveau des drogues et des travailleuses du sexe. Il s’agit d’une
occasion d’effectuer du bénévolat d’une manière créative et séduisante, en cuisine ou en
salle. Tant les bénévoles que les clients sont invités à une prise de conscience et à une
responsabilisation individuelle et collective envers les personnes démunies. Bien que seules
les fondatrices du restaurant entrent dans le groupe des entrepreneurs sociaux, le fait d’y
travailler ou d’y faire du bénévolat représente tout de même une forme de participation
citoyenne, puisque l’on participe à une entreprise qui elle-même s’implique activement dans la
vie de la communauté. (Pour les bénévoles, il s’agit d’une forme de participation moins forte,
mais ils participent tout de même, un peu comme lorsqu’on est client d’une entreprise
sociale.) Notre thèse est que l’entreprise sociale permet des degrés divers de participation
citoyenne : forte (entrepreneuriat social) ou plus faible (soutien de l’entreprise sociale par la
consommation ou l’engagement dans un emploi qui implique souvent une rémunération plus
faible que dans une entreprise classique mais contribue au développement social).
De son côté, Pro Mujer est maintenant une organisation internationale qui a été initialement
fondée en Bolivie en 1990 par deux femmes, Lynn Patterson et Carmen Valesco, et qui a par
la suite exporté ses activités au Nicaragua, au Pérou et au Mexique (http:www.promujer.org).
Son objectif est de fournir aux femmes rurales très démunies des microcrédits qui les aident à
financer différents types de microprojets, mais surtout de les éduquer en leur fournissant des
ateliers de formation en gestion des affaires et de l’information sur l’importance de scolariser
leurs enfants et de prêter attention à la santé de leurs familles. Ces clientes étant très
pauvres, elles n’ont pas accès au crédit des grandes institutions financières mais peuvent
avoir des microcrédits de Pro Mujer allant de 50 $ à 300 $. Des taux d’intérêt raisonnables
leur sont imposés de façon à ne pas compromettre la viabilité de leurs projets. Étant donné le
volume des affaires, le montant total d’intérêt recueilli permet à Pro Mujer de couvrir ses coûts
financiers et opérationnels ainsi que d’absorber les pertes dues aux défauts de paiement.
Ainsi, les deux principales fondatrices de Pro Mujer sont des entrepreneures sociales qui ont
pu outiller financièrement et intellectuellement des millions de femmes qui n’avaient même
pas de quoi nourrir leurs familles pour qu’elles soient de meilleures mères de famille et des
entrepreneures éduquées et capables. Selon une enquête réalisée, ces femmes ont pu
doubler leurs revenus après seulement deux ans de participation au programme offert par Pro
Mujer (Alter, 2006).
Ces développements permettent ainsi de mettre en lumière le rôle que jouent les
entrepreneurs sociaux pour se donner eux-mêmes une véritable occasion de participation
citoyenne et faciliter en même temps celle des autres. En effet, en créant des entreprises
sociales, ils participent à la société civile par la mise en œuvre de solutions innovantes à des
problèmes sociaux donnés et mobilisent leurs concitoyens en leur donnant diverses
possibilités de contribution à l’entreprise sociale et de participation citoyenne. Ils créent des
emplois pour des personnes ayant des difficultés particulières d’insertion sur le marché du
travail (personnes non qualifiées, handicapés, ex-détenus, minorités ethniques), développent
des services sociaux, et génèrent des revenus pour financer leurs activités sociales.
59
CONCLUSION
L’objectif de la présente contribution, encore au stade exploratoire, était d’apporter un certain
éclairage du lien qui existe entre l’entrepreneuriat social et la participation citoyenne. Pour ce
faire, nous avons commencé par expliquer le contexte pour le développement de
l’entrepreneuriat social, suivi d’une définition de ce concept et de notions connexes telles qu’
« entreprise sociale » et « économie sociale ». Nous avons ainsi souligné que
l’entrepreneuriat social était un concept émergeant, mal connu et défini de façon non
consensuelle. Sans nul doute, il s’agit d’un phénomène prometteur dans l’atteinte d’objectifs
sociaux et de développement économique local (Brinckerhoff, 2000). Ce phénomène est
particulièrement important dans une société dont les besoins sociaux ne cessent de
s’accroître mais dont les ressources sont limitées. Les entrepreneurs sociaux sont des
individus qui adoptent des actions concrètes visant un véritable changement social, quelle que
soit son échelle (locale ou limitée dans le nombre de personnes qu’il touche), et ils ne se
contentent pas d’un simple engagement émotionnel envers une problématique sociétale
donnée.
Afin de faire le lien entre l’entrepreneuriat social et la participation citoyenne, nous avons
précisé, dans la troisième section de l’article, que ce dernier concept présente trois
dimensions, à savoir la délibération démocratique, la participation politique et la participation à
la société civile, et que l’entrepreneuriat social se situe au niveau de cette dernière dimension.
La troisième section soutient aussi que la participation citoyenne peut se manifester à des
degrés différents allant de la non-participation au pouvoir effectif des citoyens et que
l’entrepreneuriat social se situe aux niveaux les plus élevés de la participation citoyenne
puisqu’il correspond à des actions concrètes et des efforts tangibles adoptés par les
entrepreneurs sociaux pour résoudre des problèmes sociaux et participer au changement de
leur société.
Nous avons également spécifié que la participation citoyenne peut être le résultat d’initiatives
entreprises par l’État, par les regroupements de la société civile ou par les citoyens euxmêmes et que l’entrepreneuriat social correspond à une initiative de la part des citoyens
(entrepreneurs sociaux) afin de mobiliser d’autres citoyens pour une cause sociale donnée
dans ce lieu privilégié qu’est l’entreprise sociale. Ainsi, par la création d’entreprises sociales,
les entrepreneurs sociaux expriment une participation citoyenne d’un niveau très élevé, tout
en permettant à certains de leurs concitoyens de manifester eux aussi un niveau plus ou
moins élevé de participation citoyenne. Les citoyens clients, les citoyens salariés ou les
citoyens bénévoles liés à ces entreprises sociales participent à assurer la viabilité de
l’entreprise sociale. Le pouvoir qu’ils donnent aux entreprises sociales grâce aux ressources
qu’ils fournissent est une forme de participation qui peut s’avérer puissante.
Plusieurs défis sont mentionnés par Johnson (2000; 2003) afin de développer le concept
d’entrepreneuriat social. Compte tenu de son émergence, le support aux entrepreneurs
sociaux ne fait pas encore totalement partie des programmes actuels d’aide aux
entrepreneurs. Il y a donc lieu pour les décideurs institutionnels d’ajouter ce type
d’entrepreneur dans la liste des entrepreneurs à aider tout en portant une attention particulière
à la spécificité qui leur est propre. Contrairement à ce qui se passe aux États-Unis, par
exemple, la formation en entrepreneuriat social est quasi inexistante au Canada. Il existe
cependant certains programmes de formation continue touchant à ce type d’entrepreneuriat. Il
y a lieu en outre de développer l’entrepreneuriat social dans les universités. Pour développer
une culture entrepreneuriale et ainsi prospérer, il est nécessaire de mieux former et de mieux
60
informer les différents intervenants, que ce soit les gouvernements, les élus locaux, les
éducateurs et la population en général (Fortin, 2002).
La contribution principale de cet article consiste ainsi à explorer le rôle que peut jouer
l’entrepreneuriat social dans le renforcement de la participation citoyenne en essayant de
clarifier la zone de chevauchement qui existe entre ces deux concepts. Des recherches
futures pourront aller de l’avant pour préciser davantage ce lien mais aussi pour clarifier la
différence entre ces deux concepts en expliquant, par exemple, les actions qui peuvent
relever de l’entrepreneuriat social mais qui n’ont aucun lien avec la participation citoyenne.
Espérons que cette contribution permettra d’accroître l’intérêt pour l’entrepreneuriat social et
ses impacts dans la société.
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Les auteurs
François Brouard, DBA, CA, Sprott School of Business, Carleton University, Ottawa, Canada et
Directeur, Centre Sprott pour les entreprises sociales (CSES). Email : [email protected]
Sophie Larivet, Dr Sc. gestion, Professeur-chercheure, École Supérieure du Commerce Extérieur, Paris,
France et Membre, CEREGE et CSES. Email : [email protected]
Ouafa Sakka, Ph.D., Professeure adjointe. Sprott School of Business, Carleton University, Ottawa,
Canada et Membre, CSES. Email : [email protected]
64
Smith, Holmes, Haski-Levenhal, Cnaan, Handy, & Brudney (2010)
Vol. 1, No 1
Fall / Autume 2010
65 – 81
Motivations and Benefits of Student
Volunteering: Comparing Regular, Occasional,
and Non-Volunteers in Five Countries
Karen A. Smith
Victoria University of Wellington, New Zealand
Kirsten Holmes
Curtin University, Australia
Debbie Haski-Leventhal
University of New South Wales, Australia
Ram A. Cnaan
University of Pennsylvania, USA
Femida Handy
University of Pennsylvania, USA
Jeffrey L. Brudney
Cleveland State University, USA
ABSTRACT
Programs targeting student volunteering and service learning are aimed at encouraging civic behaviour
among young people. This article reports on a large-scale international survey comparing volunteering
among university students in Australia, Canada, New Zealand, the United Kingdom, and the United
States. The data revealed high rates of student volunteering and the popularity of occasional
volunteering. It also revealed that other young people were the main beneficiaries of students’ voluntary
activities. Student volunteers were influenced by a mix of motivations and benefits, with differences on
a continuum of volunteer involvement between those volunteering regularly, those volunteering
occasionally, and those not volunteering.
RÉSUMÉ
Les programmes d’initiation au bénévolat et au service à la collectivité destinés aux étudiants ont pour
but d’encourager le développement du comportement citoyen chez les jeunes. Cet article fait état d’une
étude internationale à grande échelle effectuée auprès d’étudiants de niveau post-secondaire –
universitaire – en Australie, au Canada, en Nouvelle-Zélande, au Royaume-Uni et aux États-Unis. Les
65
données ont révélé qu’un taux élevé d’étudiants font du bénévolat, que le bénévolat occasionnel est
populaire et que les principaux bénéficiaires du bénévolat étudiant sont aussi des jeunes. Les étudiants
sont influencés par une combinaison de motivations et de bénéfices, et les différences entre les étudiants
qui font du bénévolat régulièrement, ceux qui en font à l’occasion et ceux qui n’en font pas s’inscrivent
dans un continuum d’engagement bénévole.
Keywords / Mots clés Volunteering; Voluntary action; University students; Cross-cultural research;
Motivations / Bénévolat; Action bénévole; Étudiants universitaires; Recherches interculturelles;
Motivations
INTRODUCTION
In recent years Western governments have sought to encourage civic behaviour among young people,
and volunteering has emerged as one avenue for this process. There has thus been an increase in
volunteer programs for school and university students. One example is the growth in community service
and service learning programs. Student volunteering is regarded by governments as essential to
perpetuate an engaged civil society (Haski-Leventhal et al., 2008). However, students face a number of
barriers to volunteering, such as the rising costs of education and the need to undertake more paid work,
thus reducing the time available to volunteer (Evans & Saxton, 2005). Some young people also have
a negative perception of volunteering as “not cool,” “boring,” and time-consuming, based on stereotypical
views of volunteering (Commission on the Future of Volunteering, 2008; Davis Smith, 1999; Niyazi,
1996).
Governments and the nonprofit sector have sought to address these negative attitudes and increase
participation in volunteering. Youth in particular are targeted, for evidence suggests that young people are
likely to be socialized into pro-social (e.g., volunteering) behaviour (Hooghe & Stolle, 2003). This
observation is supported by data showing that people who volunteer while in school are more likely to
volunteer later in their lives (Astin & Sax, 1998; Janoski, Musick, & Wilson, 1998). Youth volunteering
initiatives are frequently based around educational institutions, including the tertiary level such as
universities. Examples include Campus Compact in the USA and investment through the Higher
Education Active Community Fund in the U.K. These education-based programs are usually called
“service learning” or “community service” and can be optional or mandatory. Although service learning
programs are a growing trend globally, research on their impact on participants and on future volunteer
participation has been inconclusive (Berry & Chisholm, 1999), particularly the impacts of mandatory—
also known as compulsory—programs (Taylor & Pancer, 2007).
Student volunteering can be broadly defined, and the National Co-ordinating Centre for Public
Engagement (NCCPE, n.d.) points to the inclusion and exclusion of various activities within the definitions
of U.K. universities. Student volunteering is sometimes conceptualized as outward-looking, focusing on
students volunteering within their local communities, although this activity may be organized through their
university. The external focus can result in some educational institutions excluding (some) internal
volunteering roles, where students volunteer within the university, student union/association, and studentled clubs and societies. The positioning of curriculum-based volunteering and service learning with an
element of compulsion attached is also variable. This diversity of definitions has implications for how we
understand, measure, and develop student volunteering. In this research we utilize a broad definition of
student volunteering that includes a range of activities both internal and external to the university setting.
66
Our aim in this article is to examine the extent to which university students participate in volunteering and
how students perceive the motivations and benefits associated with volunteering. These are common
topics for volunteering research; however, we seek to understand how motivations and benefits are
associated with the frequency of volunteering by comparing those students volunteering regularly, those
volunteering occasionally, and those not volunteering. We report on a cross-national study of university
student volunteering in five Western, predominantly English-speaking countries: Australia, Canada, New
Zealand, the United Kingdom, and the United States. Data were collected through a self-administered
survey. The literature review on student volunteering, motivations, and benefits leads to two sets of
hypotheses, both of which are proposed and tested empirically here. These hypotheses concern the
relationships between student volunteering participation and frequency in the five countries; and the
relationship between frequency of student volunteering (regular, occasional, and non-volunteer) and the
motivations and benefits associated with volunteering.
LITERATURE REVIEW
We begin our review of the literature by considering the similarities between the five countries studied
here: Australia, Canada, New Zealand, the United Kingdom, and the United States. Studies examining
the extent and characteristics of student volunteering in each country are discussed, and we reflect on
the lack of comparable cross-cultural data. We then examine the dominant motivations and benefits of
student volunteering.
Most of the studies on student volunteering have been undertaken in the United States (Haski-Leventhal
et al., 2008), although there is a growing focus on this area in the United Kingdom (e.g., Holdsworth,
2010; NCCPE, n.d.) and some Australian research on volunteering within individual academic programs
(e.g., Auld, 2004; Esmond, 2000; McCabe, White, & Obst, 2007). The Johns Hopkins Comparative
Nonprofit Sector Project established strong similarities across the third sectors in Australia, New Zealand,
the United Kingdom, and the USA. These countries form the “Anglo-Saxon” cluster based on their large
nonprofit sector but have lower levels of government support compared to higher levels of fee income
and private philanthropy (Salamon, Sokolowski, & List, 2003; Sanders, O’Brien, Tennant, Sokolowski, &
Salamon, 2008). Although Canada is outside this group and sits with many mainland European countries
in the “Welfare Partnership” cluster; it shares the characteristics of a large nonprofit sector. Both clusters
have a sizeable volunteer presence compared with other countries in the Johns Hopkins Comparative
Nonprofit Sector Project. The five countries studied here share similar conceptualizations of formal
volunteering as carried out in an organizational context, usually, but not always, in a nonprofit
organization.
It has been argued that there is variation between these five countries regarding the role of service
learning within university education; for example, with service learning being more integrated in the
United States and Canada than in the United Kingdom (Holdsworth & Quinn, 2010). Overall, there may
be greater homogeneity across English-speaking countries. For example, in Canada, 7% of 20- to 24year-olds reported that they were participating in mandatory community service (Hall, Lasby, Ayer, &
Gibbons, 2009), mirroring the 6.9% of students in England who reported that they were required to
volunteer as part of their study program (Holdsworth, 2010). Many Australian and New Zealand
universities have student volunteering programs, and some are moving toward a compulsory service
learning element.
67
Holdsworth and Quinn (2010) point to a lack of reliable data on the rates and characteristics of student
volunteering, and this contributes to the challenge of finding data that allow international comparisons. In
the absence of dedicated data on student volunteering, we must look to studies of volunteer participation
more generally. Reliable national-level statistics exist on volunteering participation in each of the five
countries discussed in this article. However, methodological differences and an absence of cross-cultural
studies make comparing this data difficult. Even the World Values Survey is of limited use here, for
Australia and New Zealand did not take part in the fourth wave of the survey (1999-2004) that asked
questions on unpaid work. National studies of volunteering do report rates for youth volunteering
(although the age of the youth cohort used does vary between countries). For example, in the 2007
Canada Survey of Giving, Volunteering and Participating, young people (aged 15-24) had the highest
participation in volunteering (58% compared to 46% of all respondents) (Hall et al., 2009). One must be
cautious when equating youth volunteering with student volunteering. Although the majority of university
students fall within the youth age cohort, not all young people are university students, and not all
university students are young people.
There is a widely accepted positive association between the level of educational attainment and
volunteering (see Finlay & Murray, 2005). This suggests that volunteering rates will be higher among
students than among the general population within these age categories. This conjecture is supported by
data from the Australian Voluntary Work Survey (Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2007), which found that
the volunteering rate for students aged 18 to 24 years was 43.4%, compared to 20.1% for those of the
same age who were not classified as students. There was scant difference between the volunteering
rates for full-time and part-time students (42.6% and 44.9%, respectively). These data support the notion
that university students have a higher rate of volunteering than the average for their age cohort.
Also supporting this notion, a large longitudinal study found 15.3% of English students had volunteered
with a charity during their first year at university (Holdsworth, 2010). A study of British student
experiences cited by Holdsworth and Quinn (2010) indicated that 15% of students from four universities
were involved in voluntary work: 7% in volunteering organized through their university and 11% in
volunteering organized in other ways, with some students doing both. These two U.K. studies were of
general student populations, and three Australian studies on student participation in volunteering within
specific tertiary classes/programs found even higher levels of involvement. In two different Australian
universities, McCabe et al.’s study (2007) of psychology students found a 43% volunteering rate, the
same as Esmond’s earlier study (2000) of social work and psychology students (44%). Across leisure
studies, human movement studies, and movement science (kinesiology) programs in three Queensland
universities, Auld (2004) found that 36.1% of students were currently volunteering.
Regardless of the level of current volunteering, a key message in many initiatives to increase youth and
student volunteering is the development of more flexible volunteering opportunities (NCCPE, n.d.; and
see the Russell Commission on youth action and engagement, 2005). This movement toward flexibility
reflects other evidence that the nature of volunteering has changed—an unintended consequence of
modernity (Dekker & Halman, 2003; Hustinx & Lammertyn, 2003; Wuthnow, 1998). Individuals are
switching from regular and long-term to shorter-term, episodic, or occasional volunteering, a change that
is especially popular among young people. People seek out and engage in short-term experiences that
will fulfill their immediate and timely needs, and they sometimes move on to other fulfilling experiences
(Handy, Brodeur, & Cnaan, 2006). Macduff (2005) classified episodic volunteering along a time
continuum: temporary (volunteering only for a short time); interim (volunteering on a regular basis but for
68
a defined period, for example on a project); and occasional (volunteering for short periods of service at
regular intervals).
Volunteering is, therefore, an increasingly heterogeneous activity that occurs along a continuum, with
long-term regular volunteers at one end and occasional volunteers at the other end (Hustinx, HaskiLeventhal, & Handy, 2008). This variability in participation requires further consideration in relation to
student volunteers, who have generally been considered as a homogenous group in terms of participating
(a volunteer) or not (a non-volunteer). We group our student respondents on the basis of frequency of
participation, and our research questions how different levels of volunteer participation (regular,
occasional, non-volunteer) are associated with the perceived motivations and benefits of student
volunteering.
Motivations and benefits of student volunteering
Young people volunteer for different motives and benefits than older people. A major motivator for young
people is the opportunity to gain work-related experience, skills, and qualifications that can help them in
their education and careers (Eley, 2003). For example, “to learn new skills” was the second most
important reason for volunteering among the 16- to 24-year-old age group in the U.K.1 (Low, Butt, Ellis
Paine, & Davis Smith, 2007), and more than half of 15- to 19-year-olds in Canada said they had
volunteered to improve their job opportunities (Hall, Lasby, Gumulka, & Tryon, 2006). Volunteering brings
outcomes, or impacts, for students, communities, education institutions, and employers (Holdsworth &
Quinn, 2010; NCCPE, n.d.).
There are multiple benefits from volunteering (Hall et al., 2009; Musick & Wilson, 2008). Astin and Sax’s
(1998) U.S. research found that volunteering can enhance students’ academic development, personal
skills development, and sense of civic responsibility. Benefits were also associated with career choice
and employability after graduation. The U.K.’s Russell Commission (2005) highlighted the importance of
an employability agenda for young people (NCCPE, n.d.). Instrumental motives and benefits—such as
those relating to career development—dominate the volunteering discourse as students recognize the
need to build their personal capital (Holdsworth & Quinn, 2010). However, these career-related factors
exist alongside a variety of other motivations and benefits. A national study of university students in
England found that respondents gave both altruistic and instrumental reasons for volunteering
(Holdsworth, 2010). The most important reasons for volunteering were as follows: to help someone in
their community; to learn new skills; to respond to their needs or skills; and, to help gain experience to
benefit their future career.
Much of the research on motivations and benefits of volunteers has focused on collecting data only from
active volunteers. Holdsworth and Quinn (2010) point out the lack of a control group of non-volunteers in
most research studying the impact of volunteering on students. An Australian study by McCabe et al.
(2007) compared perceptions of the reasons for volunteering between volunteer and non-volunteer
students. Using the Volunteer Functions Inventory (VFI) developed by Clary, Snyder, and Stukas (1996),
both volunteer and non-volunteer students rated values (e.g., reinforcement or expression of personal
values) and understanding (e.g., personal growth) as the most important volunteer functions. Indeed, the
only significant difference, in this case, between the cohorts was that non-volunteers rated the career
function (for example, work skills and contacts) more highly than volunteers.
69
HYPOTHESIS
We have previously noted (Haski-Leventhal et al., 2008) that a cross-cultural perspective on student
volunteering is missing, despite research showing differences between volunteering in different countries.
This article presents data on student volunteering at universities in five countries that share some
commonalities in terms of their political, social, and cultural histories and their volunteering sectors:
Australia, Canada, New Zealand, the United Kingdom, and the USA. We expect to find a preference
among these university students for occasional rather than regular volunteering, thus our first hypothesis
is as follows:
H1 More students who volunteer will be involved in occasional volunteering than
regular volunteering
The article also aims to investigate the relationship between frequency of student volunteering and the
motivations and benefits of volunteering. While acknowledging the multiplicity of motivations, the literature
review emphasizes the importance of instrumental and career motivations for student volunteers. McCabe
et al.’s research (2007) suggests differences between volunteer and non-volunteer students pertaining to
career motivations. This research leads to four related hypotheses:
H2a Students will perceive a variety of motivations and benefits of volunteering,
with instrumental motivations being most important
H2b Regular student volunteers will perceive altruistic motivations and benefits
as more important than occasional student volunteers and non-volunteer
students
H2c Occasional student volunteers will perceive social motivations and benefits
as more important than regular student volunteers and non-volunteer students
H2d Non-volunteer students will perceive instrumental motivations and benefits
as more important than regular and occasional student volunteers
METHODS
To test our research hypotheses, we use data from a survey of over 4,000 university students who were
surveyed in five countries using a common survey instrument. The data are extracted from a larger study
examining student voluntary action across 14 countries (see Handy et al., 2010; Haski-Leventhal et al.,
2008). In each country a member of the research team distributed questionnaires to a minimum of
600 university students. Data were collected in the 2006-07 academic year for Canada, the U.K. and the
USA and in the 2008 academic year in Australia and New Zealand. In each country the sample was
one of convenience and often was limited to one or a few universities. In each of Australia, New Zealand,
and the U.K., data were collected at a single publicly funded university; in Canada data were collected at
three universities and in the United States at six universities.
As Burns, Toncar, Reid, Anderson, and Wells (2005) have demonstrated, different universities (at least in
the United States) produce different levels and types of volunteering. To decrease possible bias, in each
country, over 600 university students in each country completed the questionnaire. Questionnaires were
70
administered to students during their classes across a range of disciplines and faculties (social sciences,
humanities, business and economics, natural sciences, engineering). Where classroom access was not
permitted, some surveys were administered electronically. All students in each class were invited to
participate on an anonymous basis, and survey completion was voluntary. Although refusal rates were
not officially recorded, we note that they were relatively small (in the neighbourhood of 0.05% in
classrooms, but higher when approached outside the classrooms). The survey received university ethics
or human subject board approval from each university involved in the study. Although all of the
participants were English-speaking, the questionnaire was slightly adapted to the local situation, culture,
and system of public education.
The survey focused on formal volunteering, defining volunteer experiences as “giving freely of your time
to help others through organizations.” A broad definition of student volunteering was utilized, covering
activities that were both internal and external to the university setting. Students were asked if they had
volunteered in the last 12 months in eight types of organizations: religious organizations, human service
organizations, sport or cultural organizations, community organizations, student clubs or other university
organizations, neighbourhood organizations, local activist groups, and youth organizations. Students
were also asked how often they volunteer. Here we classify those selecting “weekly” or “monthly” as
regular volunteers and those selecting “occasionally” as occasional volunteers. The “occasional”
volunteers engaged in time-delimited activities or events less than once a month. In this categorization
we follow Handy et al. (2006), who use terms such as “genuine” versus “habitual” to distinguish between
these types of volunteers. The survey also included students who were not volunteers.
To determine their motivations for volunteering as well as the motivations they attribute to other people,
students were asked why they volunteer, and non-volunteers were also asked why they think (other)
people volunteer, by agreeing or disagreeing with 15 statements (using a five-point Likert scale). The
items were based on the Volunteer Function Inventory as developed by Clary et al. (1996) and were
modified to include a number of instrumental motivations related to resumé building and work experience.
These motivations are collected into three groups (see Handy et al., 2010). First, instrumental/careerrelated motivations related to resume building:
•
•
•
•
to put volunteering on CV (resumé) when applying for a job;
to put volunteering on CV for admission to higher education;
to make new contacts that might help a business career; and
to help one get a foot in the door for paid employment.
Second, altruistic/value-driven motivations:
•
•
•
•
it is important to help others, to work for a cause that is important;
to learn about a cause;
to make one feel better; and
to give one a new perspective.
Third, social/ego-defensive motivations were measured by the following items:
•
•
•
to make new friends;
because my friends volunteer;
people close to me influenced me to volunteer;
71
•
•
•
I was advised to do so by a career advisor or family member;
volunteering offers a good escape from one’s troubles; and
it relieves some of the guilt over being more fortunate than others.
Students also stated their level of agreement with 11 benefits of volunteering for the volunteer as derived
from the literature (Hall et al., 2006; Musick & Wilson, 2008). Altruistic/value-driven benefits were
measured by:
•
•
•
self satisfaction;
the opportunity to learn new things; and
development of trust among people in society.
Instrumental/career-related benefits were measured by:
•
•
•
•
•
job/career experience;
professional networking;
references for employment or college;
leadership skills; and
fulfilling requisites for government or school program (service requirements).
Finally, social/ego-defensive benefits were measured by two items:
•
•
social contact; and
recognition from colleagues/friends.
Data were analysed using SPSS to compare across countries and between volunteers and nonvolunteers. For both motivations and benefits, we used cross-tabulations to examine differences between
the responses of regular volunteers, occasional volunteers, and non-volunteers and the chi-square test to
determine the statistical significance of any relationships.
Profile of respondents
The total number of questionnaires collected was 4,081. Respondents from North America constitute
most of the sample, with about one-third (31.7%) from the USA (n=1294) and one-quarter (23.9%) from
Canada (n=974). Australia (n=609), New Zealand (n=605), and the U.K. (n=600) each accounted for 15%
of respondents. Approximately 60% (61.4%) of the respondents were female. The median age for all
countries was 21 years. The majority of respondents (68.2%) reported that they came from middleincome families. Domestic students, those completing their high school and university education in the
same country, dominated the sample (85.1% overall), although in Australia more than a quarter of
respondents had previously studied overseas.
Results
Student participation in volunteering
As shown in Table 1, across the entire sample of five countries, the student volunteering rate was over
70% (73.0%). This rate is higher than previous studies reported in the literature review, even those (such
72
as Auld, 2004; Esmond, 2000; McCabe et al., 2007) that focused on volunteering on individual academic
programs (36% to 44%), and much higher than the 15% reported in two U.K. studies of general student
populations (Holdsworth, 2010; Holdsworth & Quinn, 2010). Statistically significant differences in the
rates of volunteering were found across countries. The highest rates were in Canada (79.6%), the United
States (78.8%), and New Zealand (74.0%). The United Kingdom (63.3%) and Australia (58.7%) had
lower rates, but still higher than reported by the aforementioned studies (Auld, 2004; Esmond, 2000;
Holdsworth, 2010; Holdsworth & Quinn, 2010; McCabe et al., 2007).
USA
U.K.
New
Zealand
Canada
Australia
All
countries
Table 1: Volunteering behaviour among student volunteers
Volunteered in past 12 73.0%
58.7%
79.6%
74.0%
63.3%
78.8%
months
n=
4081
608
974
605
600
1294
Frequency of
Regular
35.6%
31.1%
41.3%
33.2%
22.3%
39.0%
†
Occasional
64.4%
68.9%
58.7%
66.8%
77.7%
61.0%
volunteering
n=
**
2923
354
738
461
373
997
Area of
Youth (mentor, tutor,
†
coach,
48.2%
45.5%
57.9%
37.1%
33.8%
52.6%
volunteering
counsellor)**
Sport or cultural
42.7%
46.7%
44.7%
37.1%
40.2%
43.2%
activities*
University clubs or
39.4%
27.8%
41.1%
25.8%
39.4%
48.5%
organizations**
Health and emergency
37.5%
33.1%
38.3%
21.7%
25.5%
50.4%
services**
Community activities
25.6%
40.4%
22.8%
17.7%
39.5%
(e.g., conservation, 32.6%
animal welfare)**
Religious
32.0%
37.4%
30.8%
25.2%
22.8%
37.6%
organizations**
Neighbourhood or
14.3%
11.6%
16.8%
8.5%
5.6%
19.5%
activist groups**
† Percentage of those volunteering in each country. ** Significant at the 0.01 level. * Significant at the 0.05 level
n
Volunteering
rate**
1409
1246
1151
1097
953
935
419
Students volunteer in a diversity of areas, and other young people are major beneficiaries of students’
volunteering activities (Table 1). Almost half (48.2%) of all student volunteers were involved as a mentor,
tutor, coach, counsellor, or some other activity that benefited youth, and 39.4% volunteered for university
clubs or organizations. The other main beneficiaries were sports and cultural organizations (42.7%) and
health and emergency services (37.5%). The proportion of volunteers involved in each activity varied
across countries (p < 0.01, except sport p < 0.05).
Turning to hypothesis H1, Table 1 also presents data on the frequency of volunteering involvement. Of
those volunteering, almost two-thirds of student volunteers (64.4%) were occasional volunteers. There
were higher levels of occasional compared to regular volunteering in all five countries. There are also
significant differences between countries, with occasional volunteering being most evident in the U.K.
73
(77% of student volunteers). In Canada (58.7% of student volunteers) and the USA (61.0%) there were
lower levels of occasional volunteering and conversely comparatively higher engagement in regular
volunteering by students. Hypothesis H1—that more students who volunteer will be involved in
occasional volunteering than regular volunteering—is supported.
Motivations and benefits of student volunteering
Hypothesis H2a-d concerns the motivations and benefits of volunteering and compares regular student
volunteers (who are involved weekly or monthly), occasional student volunteers, and non-volunteer
students. The percentages of regular, occasional, and non-volunteer respondents agreeing or strongly
agreeing with each motivation item and each benefit of student volunteering are shown in Tables 2 and 3.
Table 2: Motivations to volunteer†
Motivational item
Regular
volunteers
Occasional
volunteers
Nonvolunteers
Instrumental/
Career-related
To put on CV (resumé) when applying for a
61.5%
65.1%
70.6%
job **
To put on CV (resumé) for admission to
58.0%
61.5%
67.0%
higher education **
To make new contacts that might help a
57.7%
56.5%
62.0%
business career **
To help one get a foot in the door for paid
58.2%
57.6%
60.7%
employment N.S.
Altruistic/
It is important to help others **
90.2%
85.7%
79.2%
Value-driven
To work for a cause that is important **
87.8%
84.0%
78.3%
Makes one feel better *
75.4%
71.6%
68.0%
Volunteering gives one a new perspective **
79.0%
72.9%
64.3%
To learn about the cause **
63.7%
57.1%
55.9%
Social/EgoTo make new friends N.S.
53.4%
50.2%
51.1%
defensive
People close to me influenced me to volunteer
42.0%
43.3%
41.5%
*
Because my friends volunteer **
40.7%
41.8%
40.7%
It relieves some of the guilt over being more
28.5%
33.9%
36.0%
fortunate than others **
Was advised to do so by a career advisor or
29.1%
30.5%
35.5%
family member **
It’s a good escape from one’s troubles N.S.
32.0%
31.5%
31.1%
† Volunteers: Why do you volunteer? Non-Volunteers: Why do you think people volunteer? Percentage of respondents
strongly agreeing or agreeing.
** Significant at the 0.01 level. * Significant at the 0.05 level N.S. Not significant
74
Table 3: Benefits of volunteering†
Instrumental/
Career-related
Regular
volunteers
79.2%
Occasional
volunteers
77.3%
Nonvolunteers
75.9%
Job/career experience N.S.
Provides references for employment or
72.1%
70.5%
college N.S.
Leadership skills **
83.8%
72.7%
Professional networking N.S.
64.2%
59.8%
Service requirement **
47.4%
53.2%
Altruistic/
Self-satisfaction *
83.2%
80.1%
Value-driven
Opportunity to learn new things **
85.9%
78.1%
Builds trust among people in society **
71.2%
65.9%
Social/EgoSocial contacts N.S.
75.1%
70.6%
defensive
Recognition from colleagues/friends *
43.0%
41.6%
† In addition to helping others, what do you think the benefits of volunteering are for the volunteer? Percentage of
respondents strongly agreeing or agreeing.
** Significant at the 0.01 level. * Significant at the 0.05 level N.S. Not significant
73.2%
65.3%
60.7%
55.8%
77.4%
70.5%
56.5%
70.1%
46.5%
The statistically significant results support a continuum based on the extent of involvement in volunteering
(regular-occasional-non-volunteer) in relation to volunteers’ stated motivations and the motivations
perceived by non-volunteers (Table 2). “Important to help others”—an altruistic motivation—was the most
important motivation for all three groups, but this motivation was significantly more important for regular
volunteers (90.2% agreed) than for non-volunteers (79.2%), with occasional volunteers falling between
the two (85.7%). This regular-occasional-non-volunteer relationship—where the regular volunteers had
the highest level of agreement—is also evident for three other altruistic items: “to work for a cause that is
important,” “volunteering makes one feel better,” and “volunteering gives one a new perspective.” The
counter relationship is also evident. Non-volunteers had the highest level of agreement, followed by
occasional and then regular volunteers, for two instrumental motivations: to put volunteering on the CV
when applying for a job, or when applying for admission to higher education. This non-volunteeringoccasional-regular volunteering pattern continues for “relieves some of the guilt over being more fortunate
than others,” although this item had much lower levels of agreement (see Table 2).
These results support a continuum of volunteering motives by frequency of volunteering; however, three
other results of the survey show occasional student volunteers may also be motivationally aligned with
either non-volunteers or regular volunteers. Occasional and regular student volunteers had similar levels
of agreement (56.5% and 57.7%, respectively) regarding the instrumental motivation “to make new
contacts that might help a business career.” These percentages were lower than for non-volunteers
(62.0%). About 30% of both occasional (30.5%) and regular (29.1%) volunteers reported that they “were
advised to volunteer by a career advisor or family member,” compared to 35.5% for non-volunteers.
However, the motivation “to learn about the cause” had similar levels of agreement for non-volunteers
(55.9%) and occasional volunteers (57.1%), both of which were lower than for regular volunteers (63.7%).
Occasional volunteers seemed to be slightly more influenced by peer pressure than regular volunteers or
non-volunteers, (43.3% agreed that “people close to me influenced me to volunteer” versus 41.5% of
non-volunteers and 42.0% of regular volunteers). Other motivational statements had similar levels of
agreement that were not statistically significant.
75
These patterns were also evident in respondents’ answers to questions on the main benefits of
volunteering for the volunteer. Ten benefits were presented (see Table 3); responses were again
measured on a five-point Likert scale, and cross-tabulations used to compare the responses of regular,
occasional, and non-volunteers. The regular-occasional-non-volunteer continuum is again evident in
these results, where regular volunteers agreed most strongly, followed by occasional volunteers, then
non-volunteers. This relationship occurs for three altruistic benefits: “opportunity to learn new things,”
“self-satisfaction,” and “builds trust among people in society,” as well as the more instrumental benefit of
“leadership skills.” The counter relationship occurs for the benefit “fulfilling requisites for government or
school program,” where non-volunteers (55.8%) are similar to occasional volunteers (53.2%), with fewer
regular volunteers agreeing (47.4%). Other findings on instrumental benefits and social contacts showed
agreement that these were benefits of volunteering, but the results were not statistically significant across
the three different levels of involvement in volunteering.
DISCUSSION AND CONCLUSION
This study aimed to examine patterns and attitudes toward volunteering among university students in
different countries. We examined volunteering in five Western, predominantly English-speaking countries:
Australia, Canada, New Zealand, the U.K., and the USA. with particular attention to the relationship
between frequency of volunteering and perceived motivations and benefits. Students were divided into
three subgroups: regular volunteers, occasional volunteers, and non-volunteers.
We found a high level of volunteerism among students across the sampled universities in these five
countries. This finding could be seen as positive for educational institutions and governments that seek to
encourage volunteerism by students and young people (Haski-Leventhal, Meijs, & Hustinx, 2009).
However, the high rates of volunteerism may be due in part to the survey method, for the study utilized
a convenience sample. Students with some interest or experience in volunteering may have been more
likely to complete the questionnaire, despite our efforts to survey all students, including non-volunteers.
The high rates of participation may reflect the sampling method and not be representative of national
student volunteer rates in the participating countries. And, as with much of survey research where
participating in the survey is a voluntary activity, it is likely there is a further selection bias in that those
who have a proclivity to volunteer may be indeed those who volunteer to participate in filling out surveys.
Most of the universities in this study also have active campus-based volunteer programs, which may
influence volunteer participation. Nevertheless, the inclusion of students across a range of faculties in
each participating university suggests that previous discipline- or program-based studies (e.g., Auld,
2004; Esmond, 2000; McCabe et al., 2007) may have under-represented the extent of tertiary education
student volunteering.
The study used a broad and inclusive definition of volunteering and the most popular beneficiaries of
volunteer activities were youth-based, university clubs and organizations, and sports and cultural
organizations. Many of these organizations are campus-based and therefore easily accessible to
students. Educational institutions can use the attractiveness of these programs to draw students into
volunteering, and should communicate the outcomes that students contribute to on campus to the wider
student body. However, while students are active on campus, the wider nonprofit sector may not benefit
to the same degree, with the exception of sport and cultural organizations. The university-basis for
volunteering may have implications for these students’ long-term involvement in volunteering postgraduation. Campus-based volunteering can be a route into volunteering, but encouraging activities offcampus suggests the need to build partnerships with local nonprofit organizations and volunteer resource
76
centres to further develop existing university-community relationships. With higher levels of formaleducation achievement being a predictor of volunteering (Finlay & Murray, 2005), university graduates
should show strong propensity to volunteer. The legacy of university involvement and the transition of
student volunteers into post-education volunteering both merit further research.
Other publications from this research project have extended this cross-cultural perspective and
investigated country differences and the relationships between participation in volunteering, and variously
students’ vocational choices, involvement in service learning programs, and career-orientated motivations
(Handy et al., 2010; Haski-Leventhal et al., 2008, 2010).
Occasional volunteering is popular among students and is also a factor in the high levels of volunteering
reported. Although a continuum of volunteer involvement is by no means novel to the literature (see, for
example, Hustinx et al., 2008), our inclusion of non-volunteers cements the importance of occasional
volunteering as an activity between not volunteering and volunteering regularly. Occasional volunteering
is a popular trend among university students, due to time limits and a tendency toward more reflexive and
less collective type of volunteering activities among Generation Y, also known as the echo-boom
generation2 (Hustinx & Lammertyn, 2003). These trends should be recognized and utilized to enhance
students’ “volunteerability” and their ability to volunteer (see Haski-Leventhal et al., 2009).
We further hypothesized that students perceive a variety of motivations and benefits of volunteering, with
instrumental motivations being most important. This hypothesis H2a was partly supported: students do
recognize a mix of motivations and benefits from volunteering, but instrumental and career motivations
are not statistically different from altruistic/value-driven motives and social/ego-defensive factors.
The findings show a significant correlation between frequency of volunteering and perceived motivations
and benefits. Hypothesis H2b, that regular student volunteers will perceive altruistic motivations and
benefits as more important than occasional student volunteers and non-volunteer students, was
supported. Regular student volunteers did report higher levels of altruistic motivations and benefits than
the other two groups. There can be at least two explanations for these findings: first, that altruistic people
tend to volunteer more than others; or second, that people who do volunteer may prefer to attribute to
themselves positive traits such as altruism. In addition, Dekker and Halman (2003) argued that volunteers
have a different ethos than non-volunteers.
Our hypothesis H2c, which proposes that occasional student volunteers will perceive social motivations
and benefits as more important than other students, was only partially supported. Occasional student
volunteers did report significantly more peer pressure motivations, but not to very high levels, and they
did not associate with social benefits.
Hypothesis H2d, which suggests that non-volunteer students will perceive instrumental motivations and
benefits as more important than regular and occasional student volunteers, is also partly confirmed. Nonvolunteer students agree more strongly with some of the instrumental motivations, and regular student
volunteers give more importance to the altruistic motivations and benefits. Occasional student volunteers
are in between regular and non-volunteers, reflecting a continuum of volunteer involvement. Student
volunteers value altruistic benefits more highly than non-volunteer students, but the results are
inconclusive for instrumental and social contact benefits, with the exception of fulfilling service
requirements. This finding confirms McCabe et al.’s (2007) study in which the only significant difference
between student volunteers and non-volunteers was that the latter rated the career function more highly.
77
As in all research, this study has limitations that need to be considered. A cross-cultural study is always
challenging, since the research instrument has to be slightly adapted. Cultural perceptions of the meaning
of volunteering may limit the possibility of comparison. Furthermore, although the sample is
heterogeneous, it is not random, and therefore rates of volunteering in general, and student volunteering
regularly or occasionally, may be somewhat biased. We suggest additional research in more countries,
particularly in post-communist countries and those in the developing world, to further investigate
motivations and benefits of student volunteers in a multinational context.
Notwithstanding these aforementioned caveats, these findings demonstrate that students volunteer in
various activities for different reasons. A practical implication would be to tap into the different types of
volunteering and offer students short-term as well as long-term volunteering opportunities. Based on this
study, we suggest that educational institutions and student groups encourage occasional volunteering by
offering one-off group volunteering options and utilize social networks such as Facebook and university
clubs to enhance occasional volunteering. Regular volunteers should be recognized for their ongoing
contribution to the community. Finally, to recruit new volunteers among people who do not currently
volunteer, educational institutions should endeavour to tie volunteering into career opportunities and
highlight its instrumental benefits.
The findings of this study could be utilized to better target potential young volunteers by various
nonprofits and promote community outreach by those volunteering with university clubs and societies.
Nonprofits who wish to tap into students’ preference for volunteering could tailor their programs,
opportunities, and promotion materials accordingly. Links between on- and off-campus clubs would also
be an important feature; for example, volunteering promoted as part of charity fundraising activities in
orientation week (also known as frosh or freshers week). Finally, governments of the participating
countries could promote volunteering among university students as an investment in the future of civil
society and the provision of voluntary services. The growth of service learning programs (particularly
those that are mandatory or compulsory) demonstrates a potential link between undertaking community
service learning and achieving educational outcomes.
This research strengthens the arguments that tertiary education students engage in voluntary activities
but, like other young people, prefer occasional participation in volunteering. Students who volunteer are
active both within their university and in the wider community, and future researchers, educators, and
policymakers would do well to recognize, and measure, both internal and external volunteering
contributions. An important contribution of this research is to extend the continuum of volunteering
beyond regular-occasional (or episodic) to include non-volunteers. Frequency of volunteering
participation—including not volunteering—to some degree influences the motivations and benefits of
volunteering, and further research inclusive of both active and non-volunteers will be valuable. This
should include investigating the nuances of how students engage in occasional volunteering, for example,
project and temporary involvements. Finally, cross-cultural research, although challenging, does enable
theory development beyond a single or dominant worldview.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The authors wish to thank the editor and anonymous reviewers for their guidance in focusing the paper
and pointing out the complexities of occasional volunteering.
78
NOTES
1. The most important reason for volunteering for young people—and all other age groups—was “I wanted to improve things,
help people.”
2. There are no precise dates for Generation Y, but most commentators use birth dates between the mid to late 1970s and the
late 1990s; for example, Statistics Canada counts those born between 1980 and 1995. This population cohort is also referred
to the echo-boom generation as they are often the children of baby boomers.
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About the authors
Karen A. Smith, PhD, the corresponding author, is a Senior Lecturer at Victoria Management
School, Victoria University of Wellington, PO Box 600, Wellington 6011, New Zealand.
Email: [email protected]
Kirsten Holmes is a Research Fellow in the School of Management, Curtin University, Perth,
Australia. Email: [email protected]
Debbie Haski-Leventhal is NAB Research Fellow in the Centre for Social Impact at the
Australian School of Business, University of New South Wales, Australia. Email:
[email protected]
Ram A. Cnaan is the Associate Dean for Research, Professor, and Chair of the Doctoral
Program in Social Welfare, and Director of the Program for Religion and Social Policy
Research at the University of Pennsylvania, USA. Email: [email protected]
Femida Handy is Professor in the School of Social Policy & Practice, University
of Pennsylvania, USA. Email: [email protected]
Jeffrey L. Brudney is the Albert A. Levin Chair of Urban Studies and Public Service at
Maxine Goodman Levin College of Urban Affairs, Cleveland State University, USA. Email:
[email protected]
81
Thériault, Leclerc, Wisniewski, Chouinard, and Martin (2010)
Vol. 1, No 1
Fall / Automne 2010
82 – 100
“Not Just an Apartment Building”:
Residents’ Quality of Life
in a Social Housing Co-operative
Luc Thériault
University of New Brunswick
André Leclerc
Angela Eileen Wisniewski
University of New Brunswick
Omer Chouinard
Gilles Martin
ABSTRACT
The objective of this study was to examine the impact that two social housing complexes have had on
their residents’ quality of life. These two complexes, known as Tannery Court Co-operative Ltd., target
a specific segment of the affordable housing market: non-elderly singles. A mixed-methods approach was
used to assess the quality of life of residents. The data collection strategy used semi-structured
interviews conducted with the help of a questionnaire. A total of 43 interviews were completed at the two
building sites. Analysis of interview and questionnaire data identified six areas of improvement in
residents’ quality of life. These are life in general (an overarching dimension), housing (the focus of the
Tannery Court intervention), neighbourhood (including safety and appearance), food, self-confidence (an
enabling dimension for future development of projects and goals among the residents), and financial
situation (a key dimension because of its multiple impacts on other aspects of life).
RÉSUMÉ
L’objectif de cette recherche était d’évaluer l’impact des deux complexes de logements coopératifs
Tannery Court sur la qualité de vie des résidants. Ces complexes ciblent un segment particulier du
marché du logement social, les célibataires d’âge actif et vivant en deçà du seuil de la pauvreté. Cette
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étude utilise une méthodologie mixte pour évaluer la situation et la qualité de vie des résidants. La
stratégie de cueillette de données s’appuie sur des entrevues semi-dirigées effectuées à l’aide d’un
questionnaire. Au total, nous avons complété 43 entrevues. Six aspects de la qualité de vie se sont
améliorés de façon significative. Il s’agit de la vie en général (une dimension globale), le logement
(l’objectif premier visé par l’équipe de Tannery Court), le quartier de résidence (dimensions importantes
de la localisation d’un complexe comme la sécurité et l’apparence) la confiance en soi (une dimension clé
pour le développement futur de projets et d’objectifs pour les résidants), la nourriture (en raison de
l’accès à des électroménagers) et la situation financière (une dimension majeure étant donné son impact
sur les autres composantes de la vie).
Housing; Quality of life: Co-operative; Low-income; Non-elderly singles / Logement; Qualité de vie;
Coopérative; Faible revenu; Célibataires d’âge actif
INTRODUCTION
The urbanization rate in New Brunswick has increased from 48% in 1991 to 51% in 2006 (Statistics
Canada, 2009a). This demographic shift has created new demand for social housing in urban areas.
Governments are aware of this situation and, in 2000, signed an agreement to support private initiatives
in the development of affordable housing in urban areas.1 The demand for this type of housing is still
particularly high in large cities where the poverty rate remains an issue. Data from the 2006 Census show
that in the city of Moncton, 18.1% of all persons in private households live, before tax, in a low-income
situation. For Fredericton and Saint John, the equivalent percentages are 17.7 and 20.8 (Statistics
Canada, 2009b).
As Van Dyk (1995) explains, the term “social housing” refers to assisted or supportive housing owned
and operated by nonprofit and co-operative housing organizations. A useful tool to assess social housing
needs in a population is the core housing need model (Van Dyk, 1995). According to Dunning (2007), a
household is said to be in core housing need if the members spend more than 30% of their gross income
on shelter that does not meet the standards of adequate condition, suitable size, and affordability. In New
Brunswick, 11.2% of households were identified as having a core housing need in 2001. Moreover, the
problem is concentrated in some subgroups of the population. For instance, the rate of core housing need
was 23.5% for non-family households, defined as a situation in which one person lives alone or two or
more persons share the dwelling but do not constitute a family (Dunning, 2007).
This article focuses on a social housing initiative designed to meet the needs of a specific segment of
non-family households: non-elderly singles. Sponsored by Co-op Atlantic, two building complexes called
Tannery Court were built in Moncton and Fredericton, New Brunswick. There are 90 housing units in total
at the two Tannery Court locations.
Dumais, Ducharme, and Vermette (2008) have recently called for more research to evaluate the impacts
of social housing on residents’ quality of life. Accordingly, the main purpose of this study is to examine the
impact of the Tannery Court social housing complexes on the quality of life of their residents. To do so,
this paper is divided into four parts. We first look at Co-op Atlantic’s strategies for social housing. Next,
recent Canadian literature on social housing is reviewed, and we present our research methodology. The
third section details the results of our analysis of questionnaire and interview data from the two Tannery
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Court sites. A discussion of the key areas of success and distinctive problems of this type of social
housing initiative completes the paper.
CO-OP ATLANTIC’S APPROACH TO SOCIAL HOUSING
Co-op Atlantic has deployed two strategies in the housing sector. The first of these strategies is selling
property development and property management services to housing co-operatives, nonprofit
organizations, and condominium corporations. The second approach involves direct investment in the
development of social housing units dedicated to special-needs households. This second approach
began in 1974 with the construction of Peoples Park Tower (Phase 1) in Moncton, a housing complex
intended for low-income, elderly residents.
During the process of planning and developing these projects, many divisions were created in the cooperative organization. In 2003, Co-op Atlantic created Avide Developments Inc., an integrated property
development company. Avide Developments resulted from an amalgamation of CA Design-Build Group,
Atlantic Peoples’ Housing Ltd. (APHL), and the CA Real Estate Department (Co-op Atlantic, 2008). Avide
Developments operates under the purview of a vice-president, with a mandate to increase market share
in the development of commercial and residential properties in Atlantic Canada. Avide Developments also
offers complete construction services to local co-operatives, nonprofits, and condominium corporations.
The property management division of Avide Developments, APHL, manages Tannery Court.
Tannery Court is incorporated under the New Brunswick Co-operative Association Act and managed as a
nonprofit housing organization.1 Established in 2004, the co-operative targets non-elderly singles. It is a
multi-stakeholder organization in which members may be either “appointees of Avide Developments Inc.”
or “residents of the Co-op residential housing units.” As of December 2009, two Tannery Courts are in
operation: a 40-unit housing complex in Moncton and a 50-unit complex in Fredericton. The first project
opened in 2006 and the second in 2007.
Both projects received financial support from the provincial and federal governments.2 This support came
from two sources identified in Phase Two of the Canada–New Brunswick Affordable Housing Agreement.
Phase Two of this agreement was signed by the two governments in May 2005 (Canada Mortgage and
Housing Corporation, 2005). A total budget of $15 million was available for this part of the agreement.
Under this phase federal assistance was “increased to 50 per cent of capital costs to a maximum of
$75,000 per unit” (Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation, 2005). The provincial contribution is the
provision of subsidized rent for low- and moderate-income residents who occupy Tannery Court. A
special aspect of the agreement stipulates that “the units funded will remain affordable and occupied by
low-income households for a minimum of 10 years” (New Brunswick, Family and Community Services,
2007).
The total construction cost of the Moncton complex was $2.29 million and the federal funding received
was $1.225 million. For the Fredericton project, the federal contribution was $1.1 million. The amount of
subsidized rent provided by the provincial government for the Moncton Tannery Court was $1.4 million for
35 of the 40 units; subsidized rent for the Fredericton complex was $1.1 million for 44 of the 50 units
(New Brunswick, Family and Community Services, 2006, 2007). Tannery Court Co-operative holds
mortgages on each of its buildings to offset construction costs not funded by government.
A board of directors, composed of five members duly elected at an annual meeting, sets policies for both
Tannery Court buildings. Three members of the board are employees of Co-op Atlantic. The other two
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members are residents—one from each location. These residents were suggested by the management
team for their leadership and their ability to speak for other residents. Residents have an opportunity to
vote on whom they wish to represent their interests on the board.
Each location has a live-in building superintendent. Each superintendent has an employment contract
based on duties and expectations applicable to their particular building. They are directed by a property
manager and an administrative support clerk from APHL.
RECENT LITERATURE ON SOCIAL HOUSING, RESEARCH
DESIGN AND METHODOLOGY
Although there is considerable literature on social housing in Canada and abroad, this literature is
generally not centred on the population covered by our study (low-income non-elderly singles).
Consequently social housing literature touches upon the needs and experiences of this population only
indirectly, by way of discussion of mental health issues among low-income individuals. Setting aside the
demographic characteristics or health status of the clientele, many Canadian studies on social housing
are concerned with issues that were relevant to our research participants and arose during the interview
phase of our study. The need for adequate social housing options for vulnerable populations is often
emphasized (Lightman, 1997; Novac & Quance, 1998; Whitzman, 2006). The importance of residents’
privacy, safety, autonomy, and control are also recurring themes in Canadian social housing research
(Johnson, 1997; Nelson, Sylvestre, Aubry, George, & Trainor, 2007; Sousa & Quarter, 2005). The
difficulty of involving residents in meaningful community participation is another central problem that
relates to quality of life in social housing (Boucher, 2006; Morin, 2007). Finally, the literature often draws
attention to the relationship between successful social housing initiatives and resident access to
commercial, recreational, and socio-health services (Apparicio & Séguin, 2006; May, 2007).
The principal aim of this research was to evaluate how, and in what specific areas of quality of life,
residents have experienced change since moving to Tannery Court. A mixed-methods approach was
used to evaluate the housing situation and quality of life of residents in the two aforementioned Tannery
Court housing complexes. The data collection strategy made use of retrospective interviews, which
included the completion of a questionnaire with Likert scale items. During interview sessions conducted in
the months of August and September 2009, we asked residents about their housing situation and quality
of life before and since their arrival at Tannery Court.
Using a technique derived from a previous study (Thériault, Jetté, Mathieu, & Vaillancourt, 1997), we
asked respondents to score different dimensions of their quality of life on a 4-point scale where 1 is “very
dissatisfied” and 4 is “very satisfied.” Quality-of-life indicators are often divided between subjective and
objective measures (Baker & Intagliata, 1982), a division that risks obscuring the ways that perceptions of
quality of life are determined by external social problems of poverty and unemployment as well as
vulnerability to crime and social isolation (Lehman, Ward, & Linn, 1982). Lack of adequate financial
assistance, vocational training, job opportunities, and empowerment negatively affect perceptions of
quality of life (Rosenfield, 1992). In addition to support and acceptance, internal perceptions of
“competence” are linked to external opportunities for self-determination and democratic participation
through meaningful work and other instrumental roles in the community (McCarthy & Nelson, 1993;
Prilleltensky, 1994). Moreover, housing is a key component in maintaining socially fragile people in the
community, and to be successful, housing arrangements must offer a certain quality of life, privacy, and
safety.
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Based on the understanding that residents’ perceptions of quality of life would reflect the effects of these
structural forces in their lives, we collected information about the material circumstances (housing,
neighbourhood services and safety, food security, financial situation); relationships (with friends, family,
and romantic partners, as well as interactions with people in general); and the health and self-confidence
of residents.3 We also asked residents to weigh all of these criteria and make an overall global evaluation
of the quality of their lives. SPSS software was used to numerically summarize the responses given to a
number of questions.
To complement this data collection strategy, we also asked residents closed-ended (mostly demographic)
and open-ended questions about aspects of their material well-being, safety, and social lives both before
and after moving to Tannery Court. Notes taken by the interviewers formed the basis of a thematic
qualitative analysis. The information that residents provided during our interview sessions was, in part,
retrospective, for residents were asked to describe aspects of their life history as well as to relate their
perceptions of their current situation. Among the most important limitations of retrospective interviewing
are the problems of recollection error and re-evaluation of past experience. We acknowledge these
limitations and ask that the reader keep them in mind while interpreting our present study results.
Although the capacity to recall reliably generally decreases over time, this diminishment also depends on
the importance that the recalled information has for the interviewee.
Previous research has established that individuals have well-developed capacities to recall events and
circumstances that they consider significant to their personal biography, including information about their
prior living situation. Epidemiologists, for instance, have found that respondents could satisfactorily recall
health issues within a one-year period (Tayesh & Cairncross, 1995). In the field of migration studies,
Smith and Thomas (2003) have found that people could recall the dates of salient events such as moves
even after 12 years, so long as the event in question had occurred during adulthood.
Given the nature of our research, we felt that the risk of systematic recall bias in this study was low (the
number of “false positives” and “false negatives” are likely to be about equal). During our interviews we
found that participants were eager to tell stories of their past living situations and readily shared many of
their former fears and frustrations with us. A longitudinal approach to data collection would complement
our retrospective interview method, but grounding our evaluation of Tannery Court in the perceived
changes in quality of life reported by current residents allowed us to understand the meanings residents
attached to a major transition in their lives.
To ensure the validity of the study, it was important to avoid selection biases in the recruitment of
interviewees. To some degree, this was facilitated by the fact that the researchers did not know any of the
potential respondents prior to conducting the interviews. Our intention was to interview approximately
20 residents in each location, which represented a little less than half of the total population living in these
housing complexes. All residents were informed by letter of the objectives and time frame of the study. To
introduce an element of randomness in the selection of residents, we flipped a coin to decide whether we
were to start with odd- or even-numbered units.
This resulted in us contacting all 45 residents living in odd-numbered units. Of these, 33 agreed to
participate in the study. We then moved to residents living in even-numbered units and managed to
interview 10 more respondents, for a total of 43. A total of 6 residents declined to participate in the study,
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and 6 others did not reply to our invitation. Contacting residents to arrange for an interview was made
difficult in some cases because some residents had no phone, and many did not have voicemail.
RESULTS ANALYSIS
We interviewed 43 residents (23 in Fredericton and 20 in Moncton) face-to-face during the month of
September 2009. Fifty-six percent of the respondents (24) were male and 44% (19) were female, an
almost perfect reflection of the gender distribution of the population of residents (male = 57%, female =
43%). The age of the respondents ranged from 25 to 61, with a median age of 50. Fourteen percent of
these questionnaires were answered in French, because while 28% of the residents spoke French as a
first language, some preferred answering in English. All respondents were Canadian citizens. Sixty
percent of the respondents were single (26), 35% were divorced (15), and 5% were widowed (2).
Forty percent of the respondents (17) were receiving help from outside agencies. At one end of the
spectrum, there were residents who received daily home care support, interacting on a day-to-day basis
with a caretaker who assisted the client with the tasks of cooking, housecleaning, and self-care, such as
manoeuvring in and out of the shower. Some residents mentioned that they had arrangements to receive
periodic assistance with housecleaning and/or meal preparation. Notably, the agency Meals on Wheels
supplies meals for some residents. Other agencies that residents mentioned as providing important
resources to them were the Canadian Paraplegic Association and the Canadian Council for the Blind.
Some residents also indicated that they receive ongoing support from a mental health nurse or
psychiatrist, and a few residents were participating in drug rehabilitation programs.
In sum, the residents of Tannery Court turn to an array of service agencies for help with activities from
meal preparation to medical care. However, the range of service agencies utilized by some residents
should not obscure the fact that at the other end of the spectrum there are residents who do not receive
any form of help from outside agencies. In some cases, residents explained that they did not require any
assistance. However, other residents expressed their need for help with food preparation and
housecleaning, indicating that while some residents received this kind of help, others in the same building
had no access to these same services. Residents also mentioned subsidized transportation, job
placements, and training courses as services that they would like to receive.
As a group, the respondents were relatively highly educated, with 40% (17) having some post-secondary
education, 51% (22) having completed at least grade 8, and only 9% (4) having completed grade 7 or
less. In addition, 56% of the respondents (24) told us that their literacy level would not affect their ability
to work. Yet only 16% of respondents (7) currently had a job. Obviously, respondents had other barriers
to employment apart from education, which we have not probed for in this study. Some residents did
volunteer information about the obstacles they had encountered in finding employment. Long-term health
problems stemming from conditions like arthritis or old injuries were cited by residents as limiters on both
the types of work they were able to do and the number of hours they could work without pain. Another
consideration that residents brought up was that their trade licences (i.e., for construction, or
heating/ventilation installation) had expired or were not currently recognized in New Brunswick. Given
their problems associated with participation in the job market, some residents described the alternative
measures they had taken to acquire some kind of income. These ranged from pet sitting to bottle
collection to lawn care and snow removal. Some of the residents who described their participation in the
latter activities also mentioned that it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain these pursuits as
they aged, or developed new health problems.
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Fifty-six percent of the respondents (24) were receiving social assistance; 2% (1) collected employment
insurance (EI) benefits; 19% (8) had some employment income; 47% (20) received a disability pension;
9% (4) received a government pension (such as CPP, OAS, GIS, or a military pension). No respondent
was receiving a private company (employer) pension, and no one had investment incomes, such as
RRSPs or stocks and bonds. Residents of Tannery Court primarily live on a limited, fixed income. Note
that the percentages presented in this paragraph do not add up to 100% as it is possible to receive
income from more than one source (for instance, some employment income in addition to social
assistance).
Even if the Tannery Court developments are designed for a specific segment of the population (i.e., nonelderly singles), our results provide a portrait of a diverse clientele. This diversity came from age, sex,
marital status, education level, language, ethnicity, etc. We have a population that is far from
homogeneous.
Sixty-seven percent of the respondents (29) said that they have a sense of community in the housing
complex, as expressed by activities such as keeping the common areas clean or helping with yard work.
Thirty-seven percent (16) of respondents reported doing volunteer work in the community. Some of the
residents mentioned that they volunteer in their faith community, participating in the organization of
church services, outreach, and youth ministry. Others volunteer their services with organizations like
Recreation Our Way, the Canadian Council for the Blind, Alcoholics Anonymous, or the food bank, in
some cases helping to organize or lead activities for people who are facing familiar challenges.
Living Situation Before Moving to Tannery Court
Prior to moving into Tannery Court, 50% of the residents (21) lived in an apartment, 33% (14) occupied a
room in a rooming house, and 12% (5) shared a house with other roommates. In a few cases—5% (2)—
they reported other types of prior living arrangements. In 74% of cases, the respondents reported they
were living alone before moving into Tannery Court. At their previous residence, respondents reported
the following aggregated information regarding the facilities and the environment:
Table 1 / Tableau 1 – Facilities and
environment in previous dwelling (% Yes)
Private toilet
63.4%
Private shower or bath
65.9%
Kitchen appliances (fridge and oven)
70.7%
Storage room
52.4%
Easy access
71.4%
Sense of security
60.0%
Intimacy (Sense of privacy)
66.7%
Although a few residents described being satisfied with their prior living situation, many recounted
multiple problems with the facilities, the environment, or both aspects of their dwellings. In fact, many
openly discussed some of the issues related to their prior poor housing conditions. Unfriendly tenants or
landlords, rough neighbourhoods, noisy rooms, un-insulated and cold spaces were most cited as
88
negative aspects. The costs of rent combined with other costs of living proved to be a major issue in the
quality of life of many.
Some residents who had been living on their own recounted loneliness or concerns about falling ill
without help. Others described the difficulties that stemmed from not being able to afford power for their
homes or apartments. For some, this inability to heat their surroundings became a point of conflict with
landlords. For others, not having access to power brought on health problems. For example, one resident
described his struggle to maintain his trailer home without access to power. The resident eventually had
to move from his trailer after he was hospitalized for a lung infection from the mould that had accumulated
in his unheated trailer. Another resident had a similar story of acquiring a life-threatening infection from
living in a house without power or running water.
Rooming houses presented a distinct set of challenges for residents. Many residents described feeling
unsafe or lacking privacy in their rooms. Residents explained that their fellow residents knocked on their
doors, rang their doorbells, tried to borrow money, or engaged in public drunkenness or drug use. In
some cases, residents also reported that they felt insulted or intimidated by their former superintendent’s
drug or alcohol abuse. Residents reported that their security was also compromised by fellow rooming
house tenants or landlords who stole their belongings. Despite these problems, some residents
commented that they still felt that the rooming house arrangements provided them with a level of security
from outsiders entering their building.
Moving Into the Social Housing Complex
The residents of Tannery Court we interviewed arrived in the social housing complex at different points in
time. This time period ranged from 4 to 26 months prior to the interviews being conducted in Fredericton
and from 4 to 48 months in Moncton. The median stay or period of residency of the interviewees was 18
months for Fredericton and 42 months for Moncton. For a majority of residents, the move to Tannery
Court represented an opportunity for radically improved housing. Some residents had been living on the
street, in unheated apartments or trailers, or in situations where they were abused by family members.
Other tenants arrived at Tannery Court because their previous apartments had become too expensive for
either them or their relatives to manage. Many residents mentioned that the move to Tannery Court was
not something they had anticipated. Rather, some residents had experienced a crisis that brought about
the move. One resident described how he lost his home and ended up living on the street within months
after quitting work over a grievance with his employer. This resident commented on this unanticipated
change, saying, “Everyone is just one paycheque away from living here.”
The form of crisis that brought many residents to Tannery Court was a breakdown of physical or mental
health. Some of these residents moved into the building after a prolonged stay in the hospital or a period
of required bed rest at home. Several of the residents had seen Tannery Court prior to moving or heard
about the new building from church members, friends already living in the building, outreach workers, or
from a physician, nurse, or mental health professional. The latter group (medical and mental health
professionals) were discussed by residents as playing especially important roles in their move to Tannery
Court, both guiding residents to apply and writing in support of their applications.
The majority of respondents had no knowledge of Tannery Court before being referred there through the
New Brunswick Housing branch of the Department of Social Development. Building residents are
selected from a list of individuals on the provincial waiting list for subsidized housing. Many of the
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residents we interviewed reported that they had been on this waiting list for a considerable length of time,
up to four years in some cases. All building residents participated in a screening process, in which they
visited the Tannery Court building, filled out an application form, and were interviewed by building
management. Prospective residents were then subject to credit and reference checks before acceptance
to the building.
Changes in the Quality of Life Following the Move into Tannery Court
Table 2 presents the means scores (out of 4) for each dimension before and since the respondents
arrival at Tannery Court. Using a T-test for matched pairs, it also flags the dimensions where a significant
amount of change is observed. A positive difference indicates a perceived improvement of the situation.
Note that they are all positive.
The table requires some additonal explanation. It shows that six important dimensions have seen some
significant positive change: life in general, housing, neighbourhood, self-confidence, food, and financial
situation. Interestingly, a study by Thériault and associates (Thériault et al., 1997) conducted in Montréal
with this methodology also found that life in general, housing, and neighbourhood were likely to be
significantly affected in a positive way upon gaining access to a social housing unit. Life in general
provides an overall assessment; housing is directly related to the introduction of living at Tannery Court;
and the neighbourhood indicates a perceived improvement in the safety and appearance of the
neighbourhood where Tannery Court residents are now living over their previous accommodation. As for
financial situation, we could hypothesize that the relative affordability of the Tannery Court units may
contribute to a perceived improvement in the financial situation of the respondents.
Table 2 / Tableau 2 – Comparison of mean quality-of-life scores
before and after arrival at Tannery Court
____________________________________________________________________________
Areas
Current
Before
Difference
Sig.
a) Life in general
3.26
2.30
+0.96
.000*
b) Housing
3.37
2.18
+1.19
.000*
c) Neighbourhood services
3.18
2.97
+0.21
.165
d) Friends
2.95
2.68
+0.27
.281
e) Neighbourhood (safety, etc.)
2.83
2.56
+0.27
.016*
f) Family relations
2.91
2.77
+0.14
.229
g) Perception of others
2.84
2.59
+0.25
.115
h) Leisure
2.85
2.76
+0.09
.738
i) Clothing
3.08
2.97
+0.11
.160
j) People in general
2.84
2.74
+0.10
.573
k) Self-confidence
3.03
2.43
+0.60
.001*
l) Health
2.55
2.35
+0.20
.213
m) Romantic relationship
2.57
2.32
+0.25
.724
n) Food
2.97
2.69
+0.28
.086**
o) Financial situation
2.74
1.98
+0.76
.000*
________________________________________________________________________
* Significant at the 5% level. ** Significant at the 10% level.
90
Improvement in self-confidence has also previously been found to be one of the dimensions that is most
positively affected by gaining access to a safe, stable, and affordable social housing unit. So, this result is
consistent with expectations. However, that had not been the case in the context of the aforementioned
Montréal-based study.
For the dimension perception of others, we find that the results are not significant, as is the case for the
first six previously mentioned dimensions, but they are nevertheless notable. Finally, Table 2 shows that
the other dimensions related to the quality of life of residents have not changed significantly with their
arrival at Tannery Court.
Globally, the number of statistically significant changes is higher in Moncton (9/15 aspects of life) than in
Fredericton (5/15). Two factors may explain this difference. First, it seems that the more central location
of the Moncton complex has had a positive impact on the integration of the residents in the community.
Second, we observed important differences in the prior living arrangements of residents before moving to
Tannery Courts in the two different locations. Sixty-eight percent of the Fredericton residents had access
to a private toilet and 73% to a private shower or bath. For the Moncton residents, only 55% had access
to a private toilet and 55% to a private shower or bath. It is not a surprise then to see a more significant
impact on the second group.
Current Life Experiences at Tannery Court: General Impact
Several residents related their stories of excitement as they settled into their new apartments and
discovered that they were located in a place they not only found physically comfortable, but which they
also felt provided them with the privacy and autonomy necessary to go about their chosen daily routines.
One resident described how peaceful he felt after moving into his new apartment, saying, “As soon as I
got here it was like something lifted out of me. I thought, thank God.” Another resident remembered her
excitement at buying groceries and storing them in her own refrigerator after years of living with only a
microwave in her room. She related her enthusiasm for her new apartment, saying, “I never thought I’d
live in anything new ever again.” For reasons that will be explored further, some residents’ perceptions of
their apartments have changed for the worse, but overall many residents commented on how at home
they have come to feel in their apartments. In fact, many residents described their feelings about their
apartments in terms of “love,” rather than just satisfaction. One resident called his apartment “my spot in
this big world,” and another resident referred to her apartment unit as her “little nest.”
Discussion with residents about their experiences living at Tannery Court (both locations) brought out
several advantages and disadvantages that residents associated with living at the building. A list of these
advantages and disadvantages will offer a glimpse at how residents of Tannery Court viewed the benefits
and drawbacks of the building, and provide insight into some of the issues that polarized residents of
Tannery Court.
Among the advantages of living at Tannery Court, residents mentioned their friendly neighbours, hardworking and approachable superintendent, supportive networks of friends in the building, new and clean
building, quiet setting, good location, affordable rent, security system, on-site laundry facilities, and
deliveries of food from the food banks and local churches. Among the disadvantages of living at Tannery
Court, residents described gossiping neighbours, difficult relations with the manager, stringent and
inconsistently applied rules about guests, an invasive security system, second-hand smoke inside the
building, and rules prohibiting pets.
91
There was near-universal consensus that the subsidized rent was an important advantage of living at
Tannery Court. For some residents, the affordable rent was just one advantage among many positive
features of life at the building. When asked about the advantages of Tannery Court, one resident
responded, “I could list a million of them.” He went on to describe Tannery Court as “a secure, quiet,
clean, healthy environment.” Another resident answered the same question by stating that in his view the
best part about the building is “the entire place—apartment and people.” A third resident described his
experience living at Tannery Court as “all in all a thumbs up,” adding, “I can’t really think of a better
place.” In contrast to these glowing reviews, other residents articulated that they felt that the “cheap rent”
was the only significant advantage of living at Tannery Court. One resident expressed his sense of the
limitations of his current living situation, saying his housing situation is very good if it is “just taken for
what it is.”
When asked to identify their best experiences at Tannery Court, many residents found it difficult to single
out one event as exceptional. Instead, some residents described how important it was for them just to be
living at the building. One resident commented that she loves “getting out on my own and having a socalled life”; she contrasted this with her previous situation, remarking, “If I hadn’t got in there I probably
wouldn’t be alive today.” Another resident made a similar assessment, reflecting that the best thing about
Tannery Court was not an event that had happened, but rather the transition he felt had come with
moving into the building. This resident said that life is “turning for the best.… I’m not heading down the
same path I was on.” He explained, “It is hard to change but living here has helped me to change.” When
residents did identify exceptional events, these were all community oriented. These community events
included an impromptu gardening party where residents gathered to help the superintendent’s wife plant
flowers around the building and a session when a nutritionist visited the building to instruct a group of
interested residents about healthy cooking.
Many residents chose not to discuss their worst experience in the building, or reported that they had not
had any negative experiences so far. For those who did have bad experiences to report, these
experiences often involved a conflict with their superintendent about their guests and personal or financial
affairs. Negative interactions with other residents were the second source of bad experiences. While few
residents mentioned negative incidents involving their current neighbours, several residents recounted
problems with threatening or disruptive neighbours when the building first opened. They reported that the
building has become progressively more quiet and orderly.
Most residents commented that their apartments were small, and some residents mentioned that this was
a problem for them, especially when they wanted to have family members or other guests stay with them.
However, the size of the apartment units was not generally brought up as a problem. Residents
mentioned a few detractions of the apartment units. Notably, many residents indicated that they would
like to have a bathtub included in their apartment, either because they suffer from chronic pain and would
like to use the tub for therapeutic reasons, or because they associated taking a bath with relaxation.
Residents also mentioned that the walls of their apartments were not soundproof. Some residents also
complained that their apartment units smelled from smoke drifting in from other apartments, or from the
smoking area outside.
When asked whether they would like to live somewhere else, a few residents expressed how settled they
felt in the building and said that they would love to continue living at Tannery Court. For instance, one
resident laughed and said that “[the superintendent] would have to kick me out” before she would be
92
willing to move. However, most residents said that they envisioned themselves living in someplace other
than Tannery Court. Some residents described living in the building as a financial imperative and moving
out of the building as a goal that they were actively pursuing. One of these residents described the
timeline of years he predicted he would need to work before moving out of the building, stating that he
would “serve his time” at Tannery Court until his financial problems were fixed. Some residents described
problems with the building supervision that made them want to move to a new location. Other residents
described feeling content with their apartments and with the overall experience of living at Tannery Court,
but stated that they would like to move to another Tannery Court location to be closer to family members.
In Fredericton, several residents expressed an interest in living on the south side of the city, with easier
access to downtown resources and events. Finally, distinct from those residents with immediate goals to
relocate, many residents described moving as a longer-term goal to be fulfilled as part of their dreams to
travel, live near the ocean, return to their hometown, or experience a new culture.
Amenities and Services
The residents’ feedback on the physical conditions of living at the building was very positive overall, and
even some residents who were unhappy with the management or the social dynamics of the building
described the “building itself” as a good place to live. In particular, many residents mentioned that they
enjoyed the landscaping around the building, the balconies, and the bench area located near the
cigarette smoking shed. Notably, these are all seasonal features of the building, and some residents
mentioned that living in the building during the winter, when the small common room is the only viable
public space, was comparatively dull and unpleasant. The amenity that was met with nearly universal
approval was the laundry room, which residents described as clean, accessible, and affordable, with a
charge of $1 per wash or dry. Some residents mentioned that they still had to budget to be able to wash
their clothes, but most residents could afford to use the laundry facilities. Additionally, the laundry room
was described as a place where some left unwanted clothing for their neighbours to take for their own
use.
The security system of the building is a feature of life at Tannery Court that many residents described
with mixed feelings. The building’s security system features a security door and allows residents to view
the entrance area by linking the security system to a cable TV channel. To make complete use of the
security system, residents need to have a phone (to receive calls from guests at the door) and a TV with
cable. These are not services that all residents are able to afford. Despite this limitation, several residents
mentioned that the security system made them feel safe in their apartments and around the common
areas of the building. Many residents mentioned that the security system gave them a sense of control
over who entered their personal space. However, while the security door system generally received
positive reviews from residents, the presence of multiple cameras in the hallways and common areas of
the building was a cause for concern for some residents. Many residents complained that the presence of
security cameras throughout the building added to the institution-like feel of the building; they commented
that the cameras gave them the impression that they were being monitored because they were not
trusted. As one resident put it, the security cameras made him feel as if he lives in a “minimum security
prison.”
In Fredericton, transportation was a problem for many residents, and several of the suggestions residents
had for improving the facilities and services of the building had to do with making transportation available
for residents without cars (in other words, most residents). Currently, there is a bus stop just outside the
building, a service that residents lobbied for at City Hall. The bus service is undergoing some scheduling
93
changes, but at present many residents find the bus service prohibitively expensive or experience
difficulties getting to their appointments using the bus system. Residents who used the wheelchairaccessible transit system also expressed frustration at how difficult it was to get places (notably
downtown) from the building, as they had to schedule their trip with the transit system days ahead of time.
A few residents mentioned wanting some improvement made to their capacity to access the larger
community from the building, whether this is reduced bus fares, subsidized taxi fares at night for safety,
or a shuttle for residents of the building.
In Moncton, the lack of a meeting room for tenants other than the actual lobby (located too close to some
apartments and disturbing to nearby tenants) was most often mentioned as a missing piece. Most
respondents were aware that such a common room does exist in the Tannery Court building in
Fredericton. The lack of an elevator was also often mentioned. Many tenants saw this as unfair to
disabled tenants, who do not have access to upper stories or the second floor’s outdoor patio. A few
feared that the lack of an elevator would affect their ability to remain at Tannery Court after they reach a
certain age and lose some mobility. The low soundproofing of the walls was another negative element
mentioned by some residents, who feel that this affects their degree of privacy since conversations can
be heard through adjoining walls. Some saw the outside courtyard as a sad loss of space, since this
space was not readily available and not inviting or used. Some would have preferred a gardening space
or green courtyard where grass and benches would have been more inviting.
Relations with Other Residents, Management, and Neighbourhood
As in any social context, some residents encountered problems in their interpersonal relations with other
residents or with the supervisor. Most residents described their relationship with the superintendent as
good, but in both Tannery Courts, there were residents uncomfortable with the family-style management
approach. An expression of this divisive issue can be found in residents’ assessments of their capacity to
express opinions on the operation of Tannery Court. Twenty-eight percent of the residents felt unable to
express their opinions.
Although most of the residents described their fellow Tannery Court residents as “good people” and “very
friendly,” the majority of residents also mentioned that the amount of gossip was a major detraction from
quality of life at the building. Many residents described how they tried to adapt to living in a situation with
others who were curious about their visitors, daily routines, medications, and other aspects of their
personal lives. Some residents said that they were either selective about which community events they
participated in or avoided community events altogether. One resident described taking time to reflect and
talk to his family about problems in the building, saying that otherwise, “things get blown out of proportion
really easily.” Another resident commented that her policy for living at the building is “good fences make
good neighbours” and explained that she interacts in a positive and polite way with her neighbours but
tries not to get too involved in her neighbours’ affairs or become friends with everyone.
Apart from their neighbours’ talk as an encroachment on personal privacy, the other feature of building
social life that a number of residents brought to light was the difficulty of living around neighbours who are
in significant physical, psychological, and/or financial distress. These residents discussed the concern
that they felt for their neighbours and described their efforts to help them by organizing educational
sessions through the residents’ committee, interceding on their behalf with the superintendent, loaning
money, sharing unwanted food from the food bank, and donating furniture and bicycles to residents in
need. However, although many residents were clearly generous, some expressed how difficult it was to
94
step way from the problems of their neighbours. For example, one resident described the strain she felt
trying to manage her concern for her neighbours. She articulated her point, saying Tannery Court is “not
just an apartment building … there is a lot more involved, seeing people and not being able to turn away
but sometimes having to lock your door.”
For the most part, even residents who avoided the general social gatherings in the building still
mentioned having friends in the building. In some cases, residents already knew each other before they
moved into the building, often because they are members of the same support group, like Alcoholics
Anonymous, or attend the same church. Residents made an effort to maintain these networks in the
building, and they mentioned the capacity to interact with members of their faith community or support
network in their own building as a significant advantage of living there. For instance, one resident
described how members of her AA “12 step fellowship” organize meetings and visits with each other
whenever they need support.
Forty-two percent of respondents (18) reported having interactions with the neighbours living around
Tannery Court. Because of a better location in Moncton, social interaction is higher in this site (50%) than
in Fredericton (33%). This means that in Fredericton for about two-thirds of residents (22), social relations
with other people in the area are very limited and thus social integration is relatively incomplete.
Residents described some of the factors that they considered to inhibit interaction with neighbours. Some
residents articulated that they would like to go out and do things in the neighbouring community but do
not have the money to do so. A few residents mentioned that they have health problems that make it
difficult for them to physically get around the neighbourhood or cause them to feel uncomfortable when
they are out in public. Other residents mentioned that they choose not to go out because of features of
the neighbourhood: some residents mentioned that they felt the neighbourhood was unsafe, others
worried that they would not be welcomed on the neighbouring St. Mary’s Reserve, and others simply said
that the neighbourhood had no activities or resources that appealed to them.
While most residents had limited interactions with their neighbours outside the building, most residents
said that they participated in the community within Tannery Court. Many residents mentioned that they
contributed to the building through activities like cleaning around the building common areas, helping with
gardening, shovelling snow from the bus stop in front of the building, or helping deliver food or packages
to other residents. One resident expressed how important these opportunities to contribute to the
community were to him. He said, “I get to help people. I couldn’t have done that in my old place. I’m
getting better.” However, although many residents mentioned that they enjoyed contributing to the
building community, some residents felt excluded from participating because so much of the work to be
done around the building involved manual labour. As has already been mentioned, many residents have
health problems that limit their capacity to participate in this kind of activity, which was a cause of
frustration in this context. Some residents commented that they wished there were more diverse forms of
social activities available for them to participate in.
The residents’ committee does provide another avenue for some residents to participate in the
community. The residents reported that the committee has organized events for the Tannery Court
community, including instructional sessions with speakers from organizations like the John Howard
Society, BBQs, birthday parties, and a yard sale. The committee has also tried to liaise with the property
management on behalf of residents with complaints. Many of the residents interviewed for this study had
served on the residents’ committee at one point or had been asked to join but declined. In both sets of
circumstances, residents expressed a sense of disillusionment with the committee. Some residents
95
referred to the committee as a “whitewash” that would simply capitulate to the agenda of the
superintendent or property management. Other residents were critical of the committee members, calling
it a clique. Many residents commented that they avoided participation in the committee because of the
gossip that they had been exposed to while participating. One resident made this point by saying that the
residents’ committee would involve him in “more gossip than I want to know.” Avoiding participation in the
residents’ committee was thus a strategy taken up by some residents to avoid gossip and frustration, as
well as to steer clear of problems that might accompany voicing complaints about the superintendent.
Improvements
While the respondents were generally satisfied, they identified a number of areas needing improvement.
These ranged from alterations in the work of the management team to the mandate of the residents’
committee to the need for a suggestion box. Residents had several suggestions for facilities they would
like to see added to the building. Some of these related to allocating space within the building to pursue
their hobbies. For instance, one resident suggested that he would like to see a piano installed in the
common area, so that he and other residents could practice playing. Other residents expressed the wish
that space be provided to work on crafts like woodwork, jewellery making, and weaving. Other
suggestions for facilities included making composting and recycling bins available to all tenants.
Another area of improvement suggested by some residents was an alteration to the rule prohibiting
residents from owning pets. Some residents said they would like to see the rules changed to allow a
single domestic pet per apartment unit. The other building rule brought up in the context of building
improvements was the rule that allows residents to smoke inside their own apartments. Some residents
presented the idea that smoking units should be grouped together on the first floor of the building,
separate from designated non-smoking units.
CONCLUSION
This brief evaluation of the two Tannery Court complexes has identified some of the ways this social
housing initiative has affected the residents’ quality of life and has yielded rich information with regard to
the positive changes that have occurred in the lives of residents since their arrival in the complex. One
measure of resident satisfaction is to ask residents whether they would recommend Tannery Court to a
friend or a family member. In Fredericton, 91% of the residents interviewed said they would make this
recommendation, and in Moncton the corresponding number was 85%. This level of support is very high
and clearly indicates satisfaction with the housing arrangements provided by Tannery Court, providing a
broader context for the noted criticisms.
Of the specific dimensions of the quality of life considered in this evaluation, six areas have improved
significantly. These are life in general (an overarching dimension), housing (the specific focus of the
Tannery Court intervention), neighbourhood (important aspects of the housing complex location, like
safety and appearance), self-confidence (a key enabling dimension for future development of projects
and goals among the residents), food (due to the availability of private kitchen appliances) and financial
situation (an important dimension because of its multiple impact on other aspects of life).
We cannot stress enough how encouraging these findings are. In themselves, they are a testimony to the
value and appropriateness of the Tannery Court model in which residents are provided with autonomy
96
and control in the tenure of their housing unit, and where the units are permanent and not contingent on
requirements of program participation.
Tannery Court involves a concentration of residents at risk of homelessness. Critics of this approach
might be tempted to point to this concentration of low-income individuals as a negative and suggest that it
should be replaced by a more integrated approach in which at-risk residents would share the same
building with “mainstream” residents paying market prices. In theory, many arguments could be
presented in favour of such a solution. In practice, however, integrated housing complexes have been
difficult to implement for many reasons, including reluctance on the part of middle-class residents to live
alongside low-income people. Moreover, there are challenges associated with implementing such a
strategy in the relatively small urban centres of New Brunswick that may be different to those of large
cities like Montréal, Toronto, or Vancouver.
Setting aside practical considerations to return to issues of models or perspectives, we must remember
that in social housing there is room for a variety of formulas that can effectively make a difference in
people’s lives. One size does not fit all, and while the approach chosen at Tannery Court might not be
suitable for everyone, it has proven to change the lives of many people for the better. If one approach is
pushed too hard with the goal of “normalizing” residents it could also, inadvertently, result in
stigmatization, intolerance, and rejection of an at-risk population.
Given the broad range of need in terms of social housing provision in New Brunswick and the present
inadequacy to meet that need, it is certainly reasonable to conclude that the Tannery Court model is a
good example of one approach to addressing the problem. This is not to say that the Tannery Court
complexes are flawless, nor is it to say that nothing can be improved. However, it is better to avoid
fundamentalist viewpoints when it comes to social housing formulas and to favour the coexistence of
different, yet valuable, attempts at tackling the problem of housing insecurity. In the Tannery Court
complexes there exists a mix of privacy and community, and this is essential to the success of a social
housing initiative.
This research supports May (2007) and Thériault et al.’s (1997) results, indicating that living in social
housing stabilizes residents’ lives and allows them to connect with their social environment and other
services. It also shows, following Boucher (2006), that social innovations that respond to the needs of
specific populations depend on social actors’ initiatives. Obviously it is hoped that, with time, a greater
number of residents might further develop their social relations with people living in the neighbourhood
around the complexes. The stability offered by the Tannery Court units make this further personal and
social development at least possible to envisage. Yet, one must remember that residents are a relatively
diverse clientele and that the housing formula offered will not affect everyone the same way. In any event,
particular care must be given to the location of future complexes so that the neighbourhood in which they
are located is one where a variety of commercial (and social) services, access to public transit, and
engaging social relations are a matter of course.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The authors would like to thank Karen Geldart, housing services administrator for Peoples Park Tower,
and Roméo Cormier, manager of public affairs for Co-op Atlantic, for the valuable information and
assistance they provided during this evaluation research. We would also like to thank the anonymous
reviewers for their feedback.
97
NOTES
1. This funding was available to “private non-profits, cooperatives, community or private developers” interested in developing
projects for low-income households (Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation, 2005).
2. Paragraph 11(a) of the Tannery Court By-Laws stipulates that “at the close of the fiscal year the net surplus shall be
applied … to the reserve funds for the association” (New Brunswick Brunswick Co-operative Association Act , 2004, p. 4).
3. A presentation of the federal government’s social housing programs is available in Dumais et al. (2008).
4. No questions about co-operative governance were included in the questionnaire.
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Thériault, L., Jetté, C., Mathieu, R., & Vaillancourt, Y. (1997). Qualité de vie et logement social avec support communautaire.
Canadian Social Work Review, 14(1), 55-81.
Van Dyk, N. (1995). Financing social housing in Canada. Housing Policy Debate, 6(4), 815-847.
Whitzman, C. (2006). At the intersection of invisibilities: Canadian women, homelessness and health outside the ‘big city.’
Gender, Place, and Culture, 13(4), 383-399.
About the authors/Les auteurs
Luc Thériault is a professor in the Department of Sociology, University of New
Brunswick, Canada. Email: [email protected]
99
André Leclerc is a professor in the Department of Economics and the holder of the
Chaire des Caisses populaires acadiennes en gestion des cooperatives at the
Université de Moncton, Canada. Email: [email protected]
Angela E. Wisniewski is a PhD student in the Department of Sociology, University of
New Brunswick, Canada. Email: [email protected]
Omer Chouinard is a professor of Sociology and Director of the Master’s
Program in Environmental Studies at the Université de Moncton, Canada.
Eamil: [email protected]
Gilles Martin is a graduate of from the Master’s Program in Environmental
Studies at the Université de Moncton, Canada. Email:
[email protected] .
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Book Review / Compte-rendu  Sousa (2010)
Vol. 1, No 1
Fall / Automne 2010
101-102
Book Review
by Jorge Sousa
Understanding the Social Economy: A Canadian Perspective. By Jack Quarter,
Laurie Mook, and Ann Armstrong. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2009. 344 pp.
ISBN 9780802096456
One of the challenges instructors face when attempting to structure a course that focuses on the social
economy has been the absence of accessible content appropriate to serve as an introduction as well as
provide in-depth information. As a result many have questioned whether a discipline focus to
understanding the social economy is possible. Fortunately, there has been an increase in books and
courses exploring different facets of the social economy.
Understanding the Social Economy: A Canadian Perspective, by Jack Quarter, Laurie Mook, and Ann
Armstrong serves as both a reader and a textbook with content rich enough to inform pedagogy and to
serve as the foundation for relevant social economy curriculum materials. This review provides a broad
overview of the book’s content, touches on its potential teaching use, and discusses how the authors
address the contested nature of the social economy.
There are many reasons to recommend this book to instructors. It can be used as an introductory text
and is also useful for those seeking greater clarity on the scope of the social economy. By focusing on the
important contribution that socially oriented organizations and businesses make to Canada’s economy,
this book meets the need for a social economy text within business schools, which is the explicitly stated
goal of the textbook. However, its utility can extend beyond those boundaries, as the interdisciplinary
content prepares individuals across disciplines to understand the nature and scope of Canada’s social
economy.
The book is divided into three sections: an overview of the social economy; a detailed description of the
components which make up the social economy; and a discussion of critical issues within the social
economy.
The introductory section (chapter 1) establishes a clear framework for the book’s content, including
a Venn diagram that is very useful and is elaborated on throughout the book. The introduction also
provides some rich historical details - an important context for the more contemporary issues which follow
in later chapters. The introduction addresses the relationship that social economy organizations have with
the private and the public sectors. Many of these relationships are at the core of what makes the social
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Book Review / Compte-rendu  Sousa (2010)
economy unique in Canadian society. However, in explaining this relationship, the authors also reveal
what makes a generally agreed upon definition of the social economy so difficult to achieve.
In the second section, “Components of the Social Economy,” Quarter, Mook, and Armstrong use actual
cases of social economy organizations or initiatives to provide vivid and thorough details of the individual
components introduced in the first section. Throughout the chapters in this section (chapters 2-6), there
are detailed descriptions of the key government policies and programs that demonstrate how various
aspects of the public sector infrastructure support the social economy.
In the book’s third section (chapters 7-9), the authors focus on critical issues that are directly relevant to
social economy actors: organizational design and governance, social finance and social accounting, and
accountability. What makes this book particularly unique is “A Closer Look,” which features mini case
studies, an excellent introduction to important organizations and community-based initiatives.
An added feature for instructors is a resource section on the publishers’ website that provides a sample
course outline, suggested readings, and PowerPoint slides. The resources are clearly aimed at providing
instructors with some guidance on how to use this book as a course text. The example of the course
outline represents a useful guide to developing a course around this book. The PowerPoint presentations
serve as excellent templates that are not prescriptive, and each PowerPoint has learning objectives,
which are clearly laid out. The individual slides reveal what the authors consider key points in each of the
chapters. These presentations provide an instructor with a good starting point from which to build
a lesson plan. However, the instructor will have to make some effort to integrate the mini case studies
and search for visual aids.
The idea of the social economy continues to be highly contested, and we appear to be no closer to
reaching consensus beyond agreeing to disagree. This book demonstrates why we do not necessarily
need consensus on a definition. The authors have chosen to take a utilitarian rather than a
social movement orientation to the social economy. As such, it complements books that do take the latter
perspective. The book’s primary theoretical contribution is the authors’ focus on the interaction between
the social economy and the private and public sectors. Quarter, Mook, and Armstrong represent their
position by conceptualizing the social economy as a bridging concept that is accessible and intuitive and
not an end unto itself.
This book makes it is become increasingly clear that the social economy has the potential to increase its
relevance to not only business school curriculums, but anywhere where the components of the social
economy are more fully explored, including public administration, social work, and adult education. This
text is an important contribution to the emerging academic status and credibility of the social economy.
About the author
Jorge Sousa, University of Alberta. Email: [email protected]
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Compte-rendu / Book Review  Molina (2010)
Vol. 1, No 1
Automne / Fall 2010
110 –104
Critique de livre
par Ernesto Molina
Entreprises collectives. Les enjeux sociopolitiques et territoriaux de la coopération et de l’économie
sociale. Louis Fareau. Collection pratiques et politiques sociales et économique / Presses de l’Université du
Québec. 2008. 332p. ISBN 978-2-7605-1560-4.
La solution à la crise du modèle québécois de développement doit-elle être publique ou privée? Voilà le faux
dilemme que nous présente le discours dominant. Faux, parce qu’il ne connaît que la logique privée centrée
sur la maximisation de l’avoir des actionnaires et la logique publique centrée sur l’utilisation des biens et
services communs, laissant en marge les individus et les communautés; faux, parce qu’il ne reconnaît pas la
légitimité de la participation citoyenne active dans la construction des solutions et méprise les initiatives
associatives visant à entreprendre autrement. Force est de constater, comme le fait Favreau, que les
nombreux travaux sur les pratiques où l’économique et le social se croisent et interagissent sont relativement
fragmentés, faiblement autonomes, parfois instrumentalisés. Face à ce constat, l’auteur propose une
synthèse générale des enjeux théoriques, socioéconomiques, territoriaux, démocratiques, politiques et
internationaux des entreprises collectives.
Favreau démontre clairement que les entreprises collectives, la coopération et l’économie sociale font partie
des réponses appropriées pour le développement des communautés et des territoires. L’auteur construit une
synthèse à partir de l’analyse critique et de la compréhension de l’intérieur des entreprises collectives.
La reconnaissance, à côté de l’État et du secteur privé, d’un «tiers secteur», dont les composantes ont un
tronc commun de valeurs, ne suffit pas. L’auteur distingue les familles de cet autre secteur qui, dans la
convergence, renvoient «à des utopies, des visions, des stratégies et des histoires et donc à des cultures
distinctes, lesquelles familles, par ailleurs, composent toutes avec la cohabitation et/ou la concurrence avec
l’entreprise privée et l’entreprise publique dans la production de biens et de services destinés à répondre à
des besoins sociaux» (p. 105).
Le livre aborde de façon pédagogique les théories de la coopération et de l’économie sociale, en présentant
des expériences historiques significatives de ces formes d’action collective. Cet examen critique de
l’évolution et du développement de l’économie sociale sur le plan économique ainsi que sociopolitique
permet de comprendre le caractère fédérateur du concept d’économie sociale. L’auteur montre aussi la
participation des entreprises collectives dans le cadre d’un développement territorial durable et solidaire, où
le social et l’économique sont de moins en moins séparés, contrairement à la période pendant laquelle l’État
s’occupait du social et l’entreprise privée de l’économique. Il s’agit de la place qu’occupent ces nouvelles
pratiques, allant du social vers l’économique et de l’économique vers le social.
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Compte-rendu / Book Review  Molina (2010)
L’analyse de l’architecture politique des entreprises collectives traduit la force de la compréhension que
Favreau possède de l‘intérieur. Les enjeux de la concurrence entre les regroupements existants,
d’autolégitimation et de représentativité, la capacité de changement social et la dynamique entre les
composantes, lui permettent de reconnaître deux familles de l’économie sociale et deux grands
regroupements : le Conseil québécois de la coopération et de la mutualité assurant la représentation
politique et la promotion de la famille coopérative et mutualiste, et le Chantier de l’économie sociale
représentant principalement la famille associative, OBNL entreprenants. C’est une dynamique stimulante
mais aussi source de tensions et de différends.
De plus, l’auteur s’interroge sur le renouvellement de l’État social, montrant l’originalité de l’expérience
québécoise qui s’explique, en partie, par la présence d’un mouvement syndical fort, d’un mouvement
coopératif important et d’un mouvement associatif actif. Mais Favreau constate aussi certains signes de
fragilisation de l’expérience québécoise, ce qui donne lieu à quatre propositions générales autour du
renouvellement de l’État social dont la continuation de la lutte pour démocratiser les institutions publiques.
Le bilan de la coopération et de l’économie sociale au Québec au cours de la dernière décennie est réalisé
par Favreau en profondeur, analysant tensions et différends entre les familles et les regroupements de
l’économie sociale. Il s’agit de représentativités mal établies, de concurrence, de discours hégémoniques, de
déficits démocratiques. Ce bilan expose la préoccupation pour la relance, le renouveau et la recomposition
politique de la coopération et de l’économie sociale où Favreau fait ressortir, entre autres, l’enjeu des
capacités de transformation sociale des initiatives collectives et la repolitisation des débats au sein des
différentes familles de l’économie sociale.
Il était inconcevable que Favreau n’aborde pas l’internationalisation des entreprises collectives au Québec,
ce que l’auteur présente sous l’angle des lignes de force de l’économie sociale engagée dans la solidarité
internationale.
Enfin, un livre à lire absolument. «Entreprises collectives…» analyse, théorise et illustre, avec des
exemples fort pertinents, deux sortes de pratiques liées mais particulières, faisant face à des situations
communes mais différentes, dans l’esprit d’entreprendre autrement. Des initiatives qui ont déjà 150 ans
d’histoire, d’efforts de création d’une économie à visage humain, répondant à une condition de nécessité
(dimension socioéconomique), à une identité collective (socioculturelle) et à un projet de société équitable
et démocratique (sociopolitique). Accompagné d’annexes bien documentées sur les centres de recherche
et sur les ouvrages pertinents de référence, ce livre offre une synthèse réussie des entreprises collectives
visant à participer, pour paraphraser Petrella, à la construction des règles de la maison au service de la
vie.
L’auteur / About the Author
Ernesto Molina, Institut de recherche et d’éducation pour les coopératives et les mutuelles de l’Université de
Sherbrooke – IRECUS. Email : [email protected]
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Book Review / Compte-rendu  Vieta (2010)
Vol. 1, No 1
Fall /Automne 2010
105 – 109
Book Review
by Marcelo Vieta
Living Economics: Canadian Perspectives on the Social Economy, Co-operatives,
and Community Economic Development. Edited by J. J. McMurtry. Toronto, ON:
Edmond Montgomery Publications, 2010. 279 pp. ISBN 781552392829.
The Canadian social economy is thriving. From thousands of co-operatives to hundreds of community
economic development projects and from myriad non-profits to a burgeoning number of social enterprise
initiatives, Canada’s social economy encompasses a wide array of alternative economic practices serving
most communities in all regions of the country. But, despite a multi-billion-dollar force within the Canadian
economy, the social economy is highly contested among academics, policymakers, and even practitioners,
who argue about how to conceptualize it and what practices it encompasses. In fact, Canada’s social
economy is not yet very well understood, even by those who work within it.
As J. J. McMurtry perceptively points out in his introductory chapter to his edited book Living Economics:
Canadian Perspectives on the Social Economy, Co-operatives, and Community Economic Development, this
lack of understanding is surprising, given the global surge in social economic activity in response to the
negative aspects of the neoliberal order of the past three or so decades. As McMurtry further emphasizes,
any meaningful conceptualization of the social economy must come to terms with how social needs ground
economic practices, as well as the normative (or ethical) dimensions necessarily contained therein.
Conceptualizing the social economy in this way, McMurtry suggests, is important for several reasons.
Such a conceptualization assists in including the myriad diverse practices and life needs engaged within the
social economy. It helps practitioners to come to know that they are indeed part of the social economy, it aids
in influencing much-needed policies (especially in English Canada), and it helps in building a robust and
recognizable social economy “movement.” For McMurtry, by carefully considering the social economy as
a guiding concept, practitioners and researchers can coalesce around “articulating [social] needs beyond the
105
confines of particular organizations” (p. 30) toward a “movement for ethical economic practice … of national
and international proportions” (p. 30). It is with these assertions that McMurtry frames this important book of
collected essays that will no doubt contribute much to the theoretical and practical debates focusing on the
social economy in Canada.
Four themes ingrained in any notion social economy worth its salt permeate the book, contributing to better
understanding of the terms: organizations, activities (or practices), values, and the importance of
conceptualizations as guiding elements for influencing policymaking and supporting current and future social
economy practices. Taken collectively, all eight chapters of Living Economics agree that the social economy
as an “organizing concept” should take into account organizations that are autonomously managed by
members or community stakeholders, that are neither directly state-controlled nor strictly for-profit, and that
serve the social needs of members and stakeholders via clear social objectives.
According to the book’s authors, the social economy should also be considered a set of activities stemming
from social entrepreneurship or, better, collective projects and efforts that fulfill social needs or attempt to
overcome the gaps and inequalities brought on by unjust markets, the absence or neglect of the state, or
economic crises. Our global neoliberal order, the chapters in the book also suggest, is the central economic
system most social economy organizations today are addressing or contesting.
Together, these activities and organizations can be seen to be overlaid by values of mutual aid rather than
greed, solidarity rather than individualism, community needs rather than self-interest, and common ownership
and democratic self-determination rather than profit goals and hierarchical control. Which of these practices,
values, and organizational structures best illustrate the actual vitality and strength of the social economy for
more sustainable economic ways of life in Canada is, of course, multi-perspectival as reflected in the diverse
case studies and analyses focused in on in each of Living Economics’ eight chapters.
The book is organized thematically within four broad sections: (1) theories of the social economy,
(2) Canadian histories of the social economy, (3) Canadian practices and values of the social economy in
diverse regional and social settings, and (4) a practitioner’s assessment of the social economy. The first
section consists of McMurtry’s strongly argued introductory chapter, which serves as the theoretical
framework for the rest of the book and is itself a landmark contribution to understanding the sociological and
106
economic theories that undergird the notion of a social economy. Engaging with both classical and
contemporary economic, sociological, and social economy theorists, McMurtry’s piece should become
a central text for social economy researchers and curriculum planners in economics, sociology, and cooperative studies courses.
The other seven chapters of the book tackle the question of what the social economy in Canada is by
focusing on key issues of the Canadian experience: the co-operative roots of the social economy in English
Canada (Ian McPherson); the social economy in Québec and its historical role in Québécois national-identity
formation (Yves Vaillancourt); the role for community economic development of grounding social enterprises
within the strength of “place” rather than the weaknesses of a depleted region’s “social needs” (Doug Lionais
and Havey Johnstone); a case study that looks at combining the skills and learning needs of students with
the organizational needs of community organizations (Jorge Sousa); accounting for the social value of social
economy enterprises for sustainability in the “expanded value added statement” (Laurie Mook and Jennifer
Sumner); conceptualizing the social economy from the perspective of Canada’s First Nations (Wanda
Wuttunee); and the tensions and challenges of attempting to build a social economy movement in Ontario
(Denyse Guy and Jen Heneberry). Taken collectively, these seven chapters offer compelling presentations of
the diverse histories, practices, values, and cultural and regional nuances of the Canadian social economy
today. More than adequately, they serve to contextualize the normative grounding of the social aspects of the
economic practices McMurtry sets up in his introductory chapter.
University and college teachers and students in social science or management programs in particular will find
this book extremely useful. I received very positive feedback about it from my students in a first-year
introductory course on the social economy I co-taught recently using Living Economics as a principal
textbook. Facilitating study, the chapters are clearly laid out with useful subheadings, while theme-based or
secondary case study “boxes” serve to further illustrate or contextualize each chapter’s main topic. My
students particularly welcomed the “Glossary” and “Suggested Further Readings” sections at the end of each
chapter. The book is also a solid guiding text for researchers and policymakers desiring to ground
themselves in the key current debates on the social economy today. Bibliographic references presented on a
chapter-by-chapter basis should also prove helpful for researchers wanting to follow up on key discussions or
conduct literature reviews.
107
The book, however, fell short by at least two chapters that would have further illuminated the “Canadian
perspective.” For example, an additional stand-alone chapter specifically positioning the Canadian social
economy within global, international, or transnational perspectives would have been most useful. After all, as
the book implicitly suggests, understanding the social economy depends both on the particular theoretical
perspective from which one views it and on the regional or national conjuncture one decides to locate it in.
Analyzing how other social economies in other national contexts and within the broader global economic
order commingle with Canada’s social economy is vital, especially given the increased integration of the
global economy in recent decades. A complementary book that would remedy this oversight if read alongside
Living Economics is Darryl Reed and J. J. McMurtry’s edited book Co-operatives in a Global Economy: The
Challenges of Co-operation Across Borders, published just a few months before Living Economics.
A discussion focusing on some aspect of the myriad traditional social economic activities that were present in
Canada before the capitalist system took root is another chapter I would have appreciated. Such a chapter
could have analyzed in some detail, for example, key moments within First Peoples’ economic practices (i.e.,
the potlatch, pow-wows, communal hunts, family-based production and farming, etc.); the collective
economic activities of settler communities from Europe; or early labour associations like mutual societies,
“red halls,” or the workers’ co-operative initiatives of the Knights of Labour. While Wuttunee’s, McPherson’s,
and Vaillancourt’s chapters did touch on some of these pre-capitalist and early-capitalist Canadian economic
traditions, their importance for the history of the social economy and their continued significance in Canadian
society would have been worthy of some focused analysis in a text espousing a “Canadian perspective.”
Despite these minimal shortcomings, Living Economics has much to commend it. It goes a long way
toward—finally—beginning to map out the multi-hued and multicultural dimensions of the social economy in
Canada. Taken together, the collected essays move well beyond unidimensional understandings of the social
economy based on, as McPherson points out in his chapter, simply enumerating how many non-profit, cooperative, or volunteer organizations exist or what the organizational taxonomy of Canada’s social economy
is. Although these considerations are also important for coming to know the real strength of the social
economy, all of the book’s authors make clear in their own way that more fully understanding the oftneglected values and contextualized practices of the social economy is perhaps more important for
encouraging and further proliferating alternative economic projects geared toward true social change.
108
Reference
Reed, Darryl, & McMurtry, J. J. (Eds.). Co-operatives in a global economy: The challenges of co-operation across borders.
Newcastle-Upon-Tyne, UK: Cambridge Scholars Press, 2009.
About the author
Marcelo Vieta, PhD Candidate, York University. Email: [email protected]
109
Book Review / Compte-rendu  Dobson (2010)
Vol. 1, No 1
Fall /Automne 2010
110 – 113
Book Review
by Stephan Dobson
The Worth of the Social Economy: An International Perspective. Edited by Marie J.
Bouchard. Social Economy & Public Economy, 2. New York: Peter Lang, 2009. 263 pp.
ISBN 978905201580.
This volume is the outcome of three years of work by the Centre international de recherches et d’information
sur l’economie publique, sociale et coopérative (CIRIEC), specifically its Working Group on Methods and
Indicators of Evaluation of the Social Economy. Compiled by Marie Bouchard, Canada Research Chair on
the Social Economy at the Université du Québec à Montréal, who also served as the coordinator of the
Working Group, the authors of individual chapters are all heavy-hitters in the social economy field.
The first part of the book provides theoretical overviews of the topic under the heading of “Conceptual
Frameworks,” and the second part provides national case studies of trends, practices, policies, laws, and the
like from seven countries—France, Québec (Canada), the United Kingdom, the United States, Brazil,
Portugal, and Japan. Ms. Bouchard has written the introduction and co-authored, with N. Richez-Battesti, the
concluding essay. In part, the intention throughout is to address a gap identified in previous studies: that is,
information on how evaluations should be conducted, but not much on how evaluations are being
accomplished in practice and on the norms embedded therein.
In addition to the customary discussion of definitional issues surrounding the social economy, the Working
Group’s important framework for examining evaluation in the sector is provided by Bouchard in her opening
contribution to the first section of the book. While the group readily admits that their survey is not exhaustive,
readers will surely be sympathetic to the enormous undertaking that their project represents and to the
insistence that evaluation is never neutral.
Much attention in the various chapters is devoted to funders as drivers of and for evaluative accountability,
and also to the widespread move in practice, theory, and ideology from input to outcome measures and
indicators. The conceptual chapters in particular attend to the importance of democratic debate arising from
evaluative practice and the relationship of this to governmental policy formulation. The group distinguishes
between organizational (micro) and sector-based (meso) levels of evaluation, generally bracketing off the
macro level (although the Human Development Index [HDI], for example, does appear in B. Perret’s
theoretical study) and so avoiding the vexed relationship between macro evaluation and policy. While
attention is given to historical periods and generations in the development of measurement tools, indicators,
and ideology, including New Public Management in the U.K. and the “re-inventing government” trend in the
110
U.S., some attention to wider macro dimensions and aggregates such as Quality of Life (QOL) and the role of
international agencies such as the OECD would have been useful for readers.
The theoretical chapters make for often dense reading, perhaps too dense for a practitioner audience, the
exception being Bouchard’s “Methods and Indicators for Evaluating the Social Economy.” She emphasizes
the importance of the context in which evaluation occurs, presenting the group’s framework (including the
three dimensions of evaluation: organizational performance, social utility, and institutional factors), evaluative
approaches, and paradigms. Perret analyzes the “complex rationality” of the social economy and its
evaluation. The social economy has among its aims impacts that are not monetary, and therefore the
economistic assigning of monetized value is problematic. Perret addresses the rational evaluation of the
social economy through a study of public policy and related programs. He then applies Amartya Sen’s
capabilities theory so as to arrive at a way to evaluate the common good and social welfare.
B. Enjolras’ contribution is primarily concerned with normative foundations in evaluative paradigms and the
tension between these social economy organizations’ foundations as ideals and the current normative goals
of public policy. B. Eme sets his sights on the issue of autonomy of the sector and the ambivalence between
quantitative and qualitative evaluative approaches, arguing that evaluation needs to change. His call for
“communicative courts” based upon Habermas’ theory of communicative action seemingly raises more
questions than it answers in terms of tensions identified in the chapter, and the argument would probably be
well served by further development. For example, just who exactly would sit in these “courts,” or is the notion
a metaphor for an abstract social process?
A partial, implied answer to this question is provided in the first chapter in the national case studies section,
“Evaluating the Social and Solidarity-Based Economy in France: Societal Balance Sheet–Social Utility and
Identity Trial,” written by Richez-Battesti, H. Trouvé, F. Rousseau, B. Eme, and L. Fraisse. In France,
evaluation is a mode of regulation—hence the term “trial” in the chapter title, presumably. The two tools in
use are largely experimental: bilan sociétal (social balance sheets) are used by co-ops and mutual
organizations for self-evaluation and decision-making; social utility (the satisfaction of needs not adequately
meet by the market) is used by nonprofits to demonstrate contribution to the general interest in opposition to
fiscal ideologies. In this way, aggregated measures tend to be avoided, evaluation is either self-evaluation or
participatory, and evaluation is linked to definitions in the field, modes of regulation, and issues of legitimacy.
The chapter on France demonstrates the richness of detail and analysis within the national treatments in the
book and how much we in the Anglo-North American world can learn from other national experiences.
Bouchard’s chapter on Québec is also revealing; her treatment of the “Quebec model” reminds us of just how
well developed the social economy is in Québec, and her framework for her discussion (e.g., the three
tendencies in evaluation: in relation to objectives; according to social mission; and according to institutional
and organizational specificity) is applicable to any overview of evaluation.
R. Spear’s resource dependency analysis of social accounting and social auditing in the U.K., the merits of
his discussion of the national context aside, is a brilliant theoretical development expanding on the work of
Karl Polyani and of Raymond Dart’s work on types of legitimacy. The chapter must be read even if the reader
is not particularly interested in the U.K. context, and this essay alone is worth the price of the book.
C. P. Rock tackles the massive U.S. nonprofit sector by tracing financial flows, showing how those who
control the money—governments and foundations—often have control over evaluation, for good and bad.
111
A. Kurimoto’s discussion of the evaluation of co-operatives in Japan makes us painfully aware of how
important the national legal envelope is for our sector. M. Serva, C. Andion, L. Campos, and E. Onozato
discuss Brazil, a context developing out of a history of fascism and later influenced by the evaluative
practices of international NGOs, among much else. And I. Nicolau and A. Simaens discuss their country,
Portugal, yet another with a history of fascism, and the important role of social solidarity organizations for
social cohesion. Readers will be amazed at how Bouchard and Richez-Battesti, in their concluding chapter,
manage to aggregate the rich, dense, and variegated findings in the collection.
The individual authors and the Working Group as a whole are to be commended for bringing us this volume
on the “worth” of the social economy. The number of themes treated is mind-boggling: from qualitative and
quantitative indicators through to legitimacy, normative foundations lurking behind practices, participation in
evaluation, issues of public policy and governance, the influence of CSR, the role of market failures, the
bluster around Social Return on Investment (SROI) (much talked about in the U.K. but rarely used),
environmental accounting, right down to the nitty-gritty of how evaluation is conducted, among so much else.
And Anglo readers are sure to learn a great deal from the French authors and sources.
Some chapters will be very rough going for those outside the academic world, and even Anglo academics will
have difficulties at times. The title of the book is a case in point; an English reader might expect “value” rather
than “worth.” The ideal Anglo reader will be familiar with Boltanski and Thévenot’s De la justification: Les
economies de la grandeur (1991; translated in 2006 as On Justification: Economies of Worth). Boltanski and
Thévenot study how individuals justify their actions to others according to principles and how these
justifications are evaluated. This is an important text in France that has influenced and is cited by many of the
French authors in Bouchard’s book, but the influence of Boltanski and Thévenot in North America has been
uneven, meaning that the nuances of some arguments may be missed by some readers. And a number of
English books now use “worth” in a sense close to the use in this volume, beginning for example with
Remick’s edited volume, Comparable Worth and Wage Discrimination (1984) and including Acker’s Doing
Comparable Worth: Gender, Class and Pay Equity (1989). A reader not familiar with these and other such
works will occasionally lose the thrust of authors’ arguments. Simplistically put, the theory states that value
evaluation is monetized; worth is social.
Indeed, one major value of this book is its rich bibliography. Anglo academics will be excited to have
important citations on evaluation, both from the French and also internationally. The book does exhibit the
not-unusual plague of missing bibliography entries, not uncommon in our sped-up times, but it is frustrating to
turn to Enjolras’ bibliography and find that it ends with Kant: the entire p. 62 of my review copy of the book
was blank. Worse, readers will often—sometimes too often—be tripped by grammatical, syntactical, or
idiomatic issues. While patience with particular sentences will usually result in sense, there are occasions
when a reader will likely give up in frustration and move on.
Chapters that have had the services of a translator (e.g., Bouchard’s chapter on Québec, translated by
K. Simon) are certainly easier going, but other chapters unfortunately have a number of passages that are
incomprehensible, at least to this reviewer. Although the lack of an index is not unusual for an edited volume,
one wishes that a prestigious publisher like Peter Lang would have taken a bit more time with the editing.
That said, there is a certain irony in evaluating The Worth of the Social Economy in a book review, which is
not lost on this reviewer, but any effort a reader makes to read this book will certainly be worthwhile.
112
References
Acker, Joan. (1989). Doing comparable worth: Gender, class, and pay equity. Philadelphia, PA: Temple University Press.
Boltanski, Luc, & Thévenot, Laurent. (2006). On justification: Economies of worth (Catherine Porter, Trans.). Princeton, NJ:
Princeton University Press.
Remick, Helen (Ed.). (1984). Comparable worth and wage discrimination: Technical possibilities and political realities. Philadelphia,
PA: Temple University Press.
About the author
Stephan Dobson, PhD Candidate, York University. Email: [email protected]
113
www.anserj.ca Official journal of the
Association of Nonprofit and Social Economy Research (ANSER)
Revue officielle de
l’Association de recherche sur les organismes sans but lucratif et l’économie sociale (ARES)
ISSN: 1920-9355

here - Canadian journal of nonprofit and social economy research

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