All protocol observed

I had the pleasure of recently attending the first ordinary session of the third pan african parliament, for a post 2015 consultation on governance. Like any institution, it has its own vocabulary and ways of working; one is saying 'all protocol observed' when thanking the relevant chairperson, people who have spoken before, etc. My initial reaction was that this was quaint and charming - until they wouldn't let my baby through security in the interest of 'protocol'. Don't get me wrong - I wasn't trying to take an infant into the parliamentary chambers.  There is a large administrative office block, a huge lawn, and plenty of space around the parliament itself, so I didn't think it would be a problem to have the baby close enough to feed.  A good friend was kind enough to come along and take care of the baby for the day. It turns out, she (and the baby) had to spend the whole day sitting in the Gallagher Estate parking lot because of protocol.  I missed half the meeting because I had to hike up through security every time the baby was hungry. I wonder what else 'protocol' dictates in such forums, and who else it excludes. Given how we go about making decisions, the outcomes shouldn't be any great surprise. 

SWEDOW - baby edition

The aid blogosphere is rife with posts on SWEDOW - Stuff We Don't Want (the latest here). While I'm surrounded by professionals who will rail against the West donating its economy-distorting, supply-chain-damaging unwanted goods to Africa, I'd like to gently nudge them to think closer to home....

So now, the expectant mother, expat version of SWEDOW:
- Anything loud. I'm pretty sure bringing my sister's sons vuvuzelas during the world cup has ruined my karma on this one for life. Even so, I do not want kazoos, trumpets, or drums. Even if my unborn blob won't have the coordination to operate them for 3 years, the 5 year old next door has already done some serious eardrum damage. Yeoville's already loud enough from the outside, contributing more noise is really not necessary.
- Anything to climb on. I live in a flat. I do not have space for this plastic slide. There is a park next door.
- Your SUV-for-babies pram. I'm sure it has dutifully served many mothers and babies. Probably mothers and babies who have a different routine than I do - one that involves more storage space, better maintained pavement and less public transport.
- Your stories about medical child birth disasters. I understand that everyone knows someone who was in labour for a bazillion years, had things that weren't meant to tear ripped to shreds, fluids that are supposed to stay put leak....I'm perfectly capable of creating my own anxiety, thankyouverymuch.
- Your running commentary about my body. I do realise little blob has pretty much made this public domain....but would you go up to your non-pregnant neighbor and start making remarks about their acne, cellulite, or cleavage?
- Baby shoes. A gazillion points for cuteness - but, babies can't walk.
- Plastic things with buttons and speakers. They seem to come in more reincarnations than Buddha, but all have in common their uncanny ability to take up space, make noise in spite of broken speakers, and play the same thing over and over and over.

Lest I become too much of a curmudgeon, I'll balance it off with stuff I DO want!
- Hand me downs! I'm pretty sure there are enough infant blankets, towels, and clothes out there to swaddle the world, without me needing to buy much more of it.
- Friends! You all are fabulous with loads of sage advice and support and I don't know what I'd do without you. Your company and help maintaining my identity and sanity is wonderful.

5 reflections on 5 years in MDGs campaigning: #1

1. Success isn't necessarily what I thought it was.

It's just not sexy to say I'm working on evaluating the global coordination of national  civil society campaigns on the ratification of the optional protocol of the international covenant on economic and social rights. In comparison, my PhD research sounds riveting. Revolutions aren't inspired because a bunch of people read the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Even people who are professionally immersed in the field don't keep track of every regional and thematic protocol and declaration. But, this is the level at which government commitments are made, so accountability starts there. Even for die hard policy wonks, it can be tedious wading through jargon and budgets to figure out what governments are actually going to do, and what can be done to influence it.

Somewhere, in the back of your head, you always know that all of these sub committees, statements, teleconferences, and working groups are supposed to mean something, in the real world, to people. There are occasional flashes of clarity, when your neighbor's daughter is going to be able to finish matric because the age of the child support grant has been extended, or the church around the corner can afford to offer a second free meal in the community each week because taxes on some basic foods have been reduced, and you realize this is why we all sit in meetings about MDG 1 and 2 progress….These moments are rare, and creating them is actually a specific kind of work. In addition to my 'actual' job, it's been virtually a second job to learn how to see, and reinforce why, the little bit that my organization does matters to people. 

Finally, policy change is often a gold standard in a campaign's effectiveness. It is great when it happens; it's hard to accomplish, and makes a convincing story. But it's not the only thing campaigns can achieve. It's really impressive to be able to say that Russia's health care system is now much more accessible to people with disabilities because of a campaign. It sounds less exciting to say that this campaign is one of the first times civil society in Russia has come together to advocate collaboratively on issues outside of each organization's technical specialty. This may turn out to be irrelevant; or, it could be far more important than a  specific policy change. We're not very good at measuring lots of things. That doesn't make them any more or less important. 

After these 5 years, I am finally confident in saying that we have done some amazing things to make the world a better place. This is in spite of a range of frustrating inefficiencies and mistakes along the way. But there are also times when I have to admit that we don't know what works; or, in fact, for various reasons can't do what works. Statements of solidarity are good for the morale of the people who issue them; sometimes they may do something more, sometimes not. Sometimes, stories about 'things that worked' come back to us; sometimes it feels like energy is being thrown into a void, and we don't know if efforts were wasted or not. As the resident monitoring and evaluation person, it has been my job to make sure we have structured ways of thinking about our impact, we know what our outcomes are and have evidence about how we can work most effectively to achieve various sorts of things. This has been important, and I think it's an area where knowledge is growing very, very quickly. But one thing I never would have thought I'd say five years ago, is that there are things it's okay to take on faith. Donor reporting happens in log frames, but outcomes happen in people's lives. That may not change the way I do my job, but it does change where my motivation comes from.

Academia's arguments

Bill Easterly and Jeffrey Sachs are arguing so enthusiastically in the blogosphere that they are making new parts of speech out of each other. It's heartening that two such fabulous intellects are so passionate about making change happen. What's discouraging, though, is that they both seem more interested in arguing than problem solving.

Sachs says, people living in Africa are poor because of an unfortunate confluence of geography, history, and a complex mix of other things. People are literally dying of poverty. The aid that's being given isn't anywhere near enough to fix these things, that's crap. Solution: more aid.

Easterly says, people living in Africa are poor because of an unfortunate confluence of history, weak institutions, bad governance, and a complex mix of other things. People are literally dying of poverty. The aid that's being given to governments isn't making it to the people, that's crap. Solution: better aid.

Coincidentally, I find Easterly's assessment more interesting, but I'm let down by his conclusion. Giving aid to poor people (instead of poor governments) is a good way of making sure some of the short term objectives of aid are met - it's good when people can buy medicine, eat more nutritious food, and send their kids to school. But, it doesn't do much to fix the bad institutions, thus falling short of Easterly's own definitions of good aid. Even with Easterly's institutionalist understanding of the world, it's hard to argue with Sach's conclusion: levels of aid are scandalously low. When we know what works, and we can muster the political will, we should do more.

Governments have fallen radically short even of their own modest commitments. People living in many countries in the world are facing huge challenges of ineffective and corrupt governments, inadequate transport infrastructure, unfair terms of trade, gender inequality, and on and on. We need more AND better aid. The question isn't which is more important, given the information we have about the way the world works. There's a pretty high level of agreement (at least in civil society, if not in academia) about what is needed. The real issue is how we can make the change happen. Both Easterly and Sachs are disappointingly quiet on this.