Swimming Upstream: The World Commission on Dams and the Reconfiguration of Sovereignty A Thesis Submitted to the Faculty in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Arts in Liberal Studies by Jeff Sharpe DARTMOUTH COLLEGE Hanover, NH May, 2009 _______________________ Donald E. Pease Department Chair Thesis Advisors: _______________________ Christopher Sneddon _______________________ Ron Edsforth _______________________ Dirk Vandewalle _____________________ Brian W. Pogue Dean of Graduate Studies

Abstract The World Commission on Dams – a multi-stakeholder forum representing industry, government, and civil society – was a pioneering effort to analyze the development effectiveness of dams and to establish internationally acceptable standards, criteria, and guidelines for their planning, construction, and management. This thesis examines the legacy of the WCD in the context of other important institutional changes in water governance over the past forty years and questions whether a new water management paradigm is emerging through primarily transnational influences. Although vested with no formal political authority, the gradual institutionalization of the WCD process and norms at multiple governance scales are indicative of broader shifts in political authority away from an entirely state-centric system of environmental governance towards a multi-centric system.

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Preface Thanks to Professor Chris Sneddon for his outstanding guidance throughout the course of this project; to Professors Ron Edsforth and Dirk Vandewalle for their valuable contribution and feedback both to this project and in the rest of my coursework; to Matt Terry of the Ecuadorian Rivers Institute for his tireless commitment to the rivers and people of Ecuador, and for the selfless sharing of his extensive knowledge with me.

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Table of Contents Abstract Preface Table of Contents List of Appendices

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Introduction

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Chapter 1: Sovereignty in a Turbulent World Globalization and the “Erosion” of Sovereignty Reconfiguring Sovereignty The Amazon Sovereignty and Water (Briefly) Conclusion

16 19 23 27 29 31

Chapter 2: The Large Dams Debate and the WCD Large Dams: An Introduction The Anti-Dam Movement The World Commission on Dams Findings and Recommendations of the WCD Legitimacy and Authority A Turbulent World? Conclusion

33 33 38 41 44 46 50 54

Chapter 3: Institutional Change and Global Environmental Governance International Water Law and Basic-Specific Agreements Expert Networks and Integrated Water Resources Management The Privatization and Marketization of Water Social Movements and Transnational Environmental NGOs Conclusion

57 59 63 70 75 78

Chapter 4: Institutionalizing the WCD Reactions to the WCD Institutionalizing the WCD through IWRM South Africa Multi-Stakeholder Initiative The Jondachi Hydroelectric Project Conclusion

80 81 84 86 87 91

Conclusion

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References

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Appendices

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List of Appendices 2.1 The WCD Commissioners

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2.2 WCD Case Study Dams

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2.3 WCD Financial Contributors

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4.1 Jondachi River Maps

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INTRODUCTION As I was finishing the rough draft for this thesis, a March 2009 article in Forbes entitled “How Elite Environmentalists Impoverish Blue-Collar Workers” caught my attention. I was initially going to lead with a story about China to highlight the contentious politics surrounding dams and development, but as anyone who has studied the subject knows, California may very well be the archetypal example. The article claimed that despite drought conditions environmentalists were knowingly exacerbating economic problems in California’s Central Valley by insisting on environmental release flows from the vast network of dams and diversions that provide irrigation water to California’s massive agribusiness enterprises. Instead of being put to agricultural use, “enormous amounts of water have been allowed to flow untapped” to the sea in the name of stream revitalization and fish protection, while the agricultural sector suffers. Consequently, unemployment has skyrocketed in the region to almost 40% in some towns dependent on water-related farming. According to the author, wealthy progressives were sacrificing American jobs to advance an “anti-growth” agenda based on a new “politics of scarcity” and doomsday environmental predictions associated with global climate change. (Kotkin, 2009) Water has always been big politics in the American west. Dams there have turned the arid desert into fertile farmland and lit up the cities with inexpensive hydropower. But the environmental backlash against dams captured in this story is just one aspect amid a highly complex and contentious debate over global ecopolitics. At the core of the California controversy is the issue of sustainable development. Thanks in part to popular documentaries like An Inconvenient Truth, sustainable

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development has emerged as one of the buzzwords of our time, but its history as a term can be traced back to the 1987 World Commission on Environment and Development (WCED). The Brundtland Commission, named for its chair Gro Harlem Brundtland, defined sustainable development as “development that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs.” (WCED, 1987, p. 43) The WCED attempted to establish a multilateral framework for interdependence on environmental issues by exploiting the notion of the tragedy of the commons, by which the best efforts of individual countries to protect the environment could be usurped by the failings of another. In the words of the Commission, “The Earth is one, but the world is not.” (WCED, 1987) A bevy of international commissions, committees, panels, treaties, and other institutional responses to the need for sustainable development have followed in Brundtland’s path. Collectively, these comprise an international regime for the global governance of environmental issues. Like Brundtland, most fit into the existing institutional framework of the international order, a system with states as the primary actors. For example, twenty-two of the twenty-three principles in the highly influential WCED report Our Common Future each begin with the phrase, “States shall...” However, the international system has been the subject of some fracturing in the twenty-one years since Bruntland. Various forces contribute to this fracturing, the most notorious of which is commonly referred to as economic globalization and the associated rise of the transnational corporation as a dominant actor. But economic interdependence and transnational capital flows are hardly the only factors challenging state authority. The Westphalian states system is in “retreat” (Strange, 1996) as a consequence of the

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system’s inability to address a host of problems, especially environmental ones. International cooperation on environmental matters dates back at least to 1972, but “collective action” problems have become progressively more difficult as we have moved to broader scales of human-environment interaction. Consequently, a multitude of transnational frameworks that challenge state sovereignty on environmental issues have developed. These take the form of international treaties, transnational environmental advocacy and expert networks, or less structured changes in norms that are the result of a combination of forces. A new system of global environmental governance is beginning to emerge. One of the most intriguing pieces in this elaborate puzzle is the World Commission on Dams (WCD). The WCD emerged out of a joint World Bank and World Conservation Union (IUCN) project in 1998. Its mandate was to conduct a comprehensive review of the development effectiveness of large dams and to develop a sort of “global best practices” for future dam projects. Over a two-year period the WCD carried out its mandate by conducting the most comprehensive evaluation of large dams to date. In November 2000, it released its report Dams and Development: A New Framework for Decision-Making. The WCD concluded that, “dams have made an important and significant contribution to human development,” but in “too many cases an unacceptable and often unnecessary price has been paid to secure those benefits, especially in social and environmental terms.” (WCD, 2000, p. 26) To this effect, the WCD recommended a framework for future decision-making that placed environmental and social cost evaluations on par with economic and financial considerations. A central tenet of the recommended framework is

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that stakeholder participation in all phases of the decision-making process is crucial for a successful dam project. What makes the WCD report interesting is not its revelation of the many negative social and environmental impacts of dams – a small, but influential body of knowledge on these effects preceded Dams and Development. Instead, what makes the WCD so compelling from an institutional perspective is its composition and methodology. As an independent, multi-stakeholder forum comprised entirely of non-state actors that represented industry, non-governmental organizations, government agencies, academia, and opposition movements, the WCD enjoys a fairly unique position in the global environmental governance framework. Part of its uniqueness is linked to the characteristics of dams as a technology that dramatically alters natural processes, threatens accepted understandings of basic human rights associated with the disproportionate sharing of the costs and benefits of development projects, and the fact that approximately 80% of the world’s river basins span international boundaries. But it is also one of just a few environmental commissions based on a trisectoral network of public, private, and civil society interests. Although the actual authority of the WCD is contested, by infusing the WCD with democratic principles – inclusiveness, transparency, and accountability – at its inception, the intent was to give it a legitimate basis for establishing dam-related procedures that would be accepted by all interested parties. The formational process and the manner in which it conducted its mandate are generally accepted as having satisfied this requirement, at least to an extent that far exceeds most precedents at the global scale. The WCD’s participatory decision-making process has been heralded as a “blueprint on which future

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decision-making processes may be modeled.” (Dingwerth, 2005, p. 66) The acceptance and incorporation of the WCD recommendations at multiple levels of governance in both the industrialized and developing world speaks to the legitimacy of the WCD process. The WCD challenges conventional notions of sovereignty by shifting the accepted norms in the debate, but its non-binding report lacks any formal provision of authority. However, this is consistent with Litfin’s (1998) assertion that “global ecopolitics are generating significant new forms of governance, primarily through certain cultural shifts associated with the diffusion of ecological sensibility. Thus, transnational environmental activities may be understood as attempts to revise the norms and practices of sovereignty.” (p. 16) This logically begs the questions what is governance and is it possible to have governance without government? Rosenau (1992) and others assert that it is possible to imagine regulatory mechanisms that function efficiently even though they lack formal authority. Generally, this idea depends on an erosive view of the state system at the hands of powerful transnational forces. One such force is climate change, which knows no borders and thrusts problems into an international system that lacks governance. A host of other transnational environmental problems are driving forward an evolving notion of transnational environmental governance that is occurring at multiple levels with multilevel actors that shift and change as situations demand. (Lipschutz, 1996, p. 250) In this sense, the WCD fits into Lipschutz’s idea of transnational environmental governance as an example of complex coalitional strategies between social organizations and international organizations. This thesis paper is concerned with the institutionalization of

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the WCD norms and their implication on water politics and policy, specifically, and more broadly on transnational environmental governance. What I will argue is that the WCD has the potential to change the structure of global governance amidst a combination of local, regional, transnational, and international institution-building processes. It is unlikely that explicit, “top-down” application of the WCD recommendations will be seen in international agreements. Instead, we can look for convergence around WCD norms in various places in the institutional landscape – in international water law and basin specific agreements, in the networks of water experts that influence policy decisions, and in the political struggles over the most contentious water issues such as privatization and the efficacy and impact of large dams. Convergence would suggest these norms are in fact “swimming upstream.” Certainly, there are numerous political, economic, social, cultural, and environmental factors that contribute to institutionalizing processes. However, a central argument in this paper is that international environmental politics – and perhaps global governance more generally – are undergoing a transformation in authority and that the WCD is both evidence of this shift and a model for future decision-making. This is necessarily a hotly contested debate and conclusive attempts at discourse analysis are, by nature, fuzzy at best. But with the understanding that the results will be uncertain and subject to interpretation, I will continue by trying to locate the WCD within this broader debate about global environmental governance. Chapter 1 examines the issues of authority, territory, and knowledge as they relate to water. Whose water is it? Who has the legitimate power to make decisions about it? How should the debate be shaped and using what terms? These questions go beyond

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simple legal definitions of what constitutes a “right” to water. They are tied in to the issues of basic human rights and the political realities that policy-makers face when addressing water resources. They are also fundamentally linked to notions of sovereignty and to issues of scale. Whereas older hierarchies of scale positioned everything supranational above the state and everything subnational below the state, globalization creates multi-scalar hierarchies. For instance, who owns the Amazon rainforest? Although physically located almost entirely within Brazil’s sovereign boundary, the rainforest is simultaneously a critical aspect of global ecological functions, a major contributor to Brazil’s GDP, and a source of local livelihood. Conca (1995) argues that multilateral development banks and transnational capital were important factors in the unofficial designation of the rainforest as a part of the global commons despite Brazil’s sovereignty claims of nonintervention. Whether this weakening of the states system will be an improvement over the existing environmental regime has yet to be determined – so far the disempowerment of the state to make room for free trade regimes has had a mixed record on environmental matters. It would also be inaccurate to assume that state sovereignty, if it is being eroded, is being eroded equally in all states and in all sectors. Within the environmental discourse, the impact of transnational politics on the state has simultaneously weakened the state’s claims of nonintervention while also reinforcing state authority as regulator and environmental manager. This implies an authority dilemma. A central argument of this thesis is that this authority dilemma has created space for transnational actors to penetrate the regime space and influence institution building processes. The large dams debate is the focus of this discussion.

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Chapter 2 introduces the large dams debate with attention given to the history of dam building, their costs and benefits, as well as their alternatives. Why are large dams so controversial? How have they been effective in achieving developmental progress and where have they failed? Finally, the WCD is discussed from inception to closure. The consensus building process, and particularly the influence of the anti-dam movement, that led to the creation of the WCD is highlighted. The affirmation of the anti-dam movement was critical to the WCD formation. The process nearly disintegrated because the movement’s representatives didn’t approve of the terms. The willingness of other stakeholders to bend to the anti-dam movement’s demands illustrates the enhanced bargaining position of social and environmental advocacy movements. As we try to understand the complex political struggles that lead to institution building, this becomes a critical point in differentiating between a state-centric world and what we might call a post-state society. At a theoretical level, one possible way to interpret sovereignty’s transformation is through Rosenau’s “turbulence” model whereby the traditional statecentric world must now compete with an autonomous, multi-centric world for authority. I try to locate the WCD in this bifurcated model of governance and posit that multistakeholder platforms such as the WCD present a possible solution to Rosenau’s “turbulence.” Although the empirical evidence of this may be murky at best, we can look to the dams debate, the formation of the WCD, and its legitimacy for some answers. Chapter 3 frames this transformational process by first looking at some of the important institutional developments in environmental governance. A central feature of the current model of global environmental governance is the “regime” approach, by which territorial states negotiate international agreements through treaties, most often

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without consideration of other non-state actors. Although regimes have achieved varying amounts of success around transboundary problems such as acid rain or global commons problems such as the ozone layer, the regime approach is flawed in the eyes of many environmental politics scholars. (see Sneddon and Fox, 2007; Conca, 2006; Lipschutz, 2004; Wapner, 1998) This is, in part, why the WCD process as an alternative to the regime approach is so pertinent to the contentious environmental debates raging at multiple political scales around the world. The controversy over dams illustrates the forces shaping transnational environmental governance. Traditional notions of state sovereignty are being challenged and many non-state actors carry tremendous clout. Important ecological and human rights issues are at the forefront of the debate, and the social and environmental movements have been very effective in creating a new paradigm. But this is just one space where the normative structure is being challenged. The neoliberal preference for market indicators and privatization has infiltrated environmental governance as a powerful norm changer; and transnational networks of industry experts are increasingly viewed as sources of institutional influence. State negotiations that result in international regimes may still dominate global governance of the environment, but the terms are no longer solely dictated by the state. Chapter 4 looks at ways that the WCD recommendations have been received and implemented by various actors, state and non-state alike. Predictably, anti-dam critics have been quick to embrace the WCD recommendations, but other responses have ranged from the World Bank’s cautious acceptance to India’s outright condemnation of the report as masquerading eco-imperialism. Even among the anti-dam movement, there are those who feel that the WCD was far too generous in acknowledging the benefits of dams

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and not critical enough of their negative impacts. The opposite can be said of some prodam stakeholders who criticized the WCD for both downplaying the benefits of dams without presenting any workable technical alternative and imposing an unrealistic decision-making process that would delay projects and the subsequent economic development associated with dams. In the end though, it is the state’s acceptance of the WCD that really matters. A review of the implementation of the WCD principle of stakeholder participation reveals some interesting trends in the institutionalization of this norm at multiple levels of governance. The United Nations Environmental Program (UNEP) Dams and Development Project (DDP) was a particularly useful source for this process. The UNEP took up the WCD request for a neutral entity to disseminate its recommendations. From 2001 to 2006, the DDP promoted multistakeholder dialogues at multiple scales of governance, promoted networking, disseminated information, and compiled case studies and other information on the integration of the WCD core values into dam projects around the world. The South Africa Multi-Stakeholder Initiative to review the WCD recommendations is also discussed. Finally, Ecuador’s Jondachi project is referenced as evidence of the challenges ahead for the WCD. Although the Jondachi was initially heralded as a successful example of the WCD’s participatory governance values at work, this success has recently been undermined by a second dam project on the Jondachi that has completely disregarded this principle and ignored the consensus reached by stakeholders during negotiations over how to best develop the region’s water resources. This raises some important questions about the WCD’s legacy concerning global environmental governance.

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Has state authority been reconfigured as a consequence of the WCD? The WCD decentered state authority in important ways and ceded legitimacy to non-state actors as key components in the decision-making process. But the WCD also reaffirmed the state as an agent of norm legitimization. This reconfiguration of authority has broad implications for global environmental governance. Some environmentalists have called for a World Environmental Organization to replace the fragmented UN system. Does a multi-stakeholder platform of environmental governance modeled after the WCD have any future prospect? Or is the states system shifting in an altogether different direction? The prevailing model is liberal global governance, which unites the divergent interests of corporate, national, and technocratic elites into a single transnational capitalist class intent on advancing the global capitalist project. (Held and McGrew, 2007) To what extent the processes of globalization prove to be unsustainable will largely determine the success of this model of global governance. Absent some sort of massive failure in the system (e.g. severe financial shock, ecological disaster), the structural constraints on suprastate agencies and the dominance of the US as hegemon limit the prospects for structural change. The WCD may be an outstanding blueprint for more democratic decision-making at the global scale and evidence of the growth of non-state authority, but it doesn’t make sense to view the WCD as an institution in its own right. It is one aspect of the broader process of institutionalization of norms of watershed democracy. More rapid and direct institutionalization of the WCD norms would only result from the occurrence of a global ecological disaster, which some water experts and activists portend is inevitable, to catalyze meaningful change in global environmental governance.

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I first became aware of the World Commission on Dams as a potential topic of research after seeing it briefly referenced in Held and Mcgrew (2007) as one example of global policy formulation that has moved into transnational space. Much of the literature on the World Commission on Dams coming out of the field of political science is concerned with the democratic legitimacy of the WCD (see Brinkerhoff, 2002; Dingwerth, 2005; Dingwerth, 2008; Dubash et al, 2002; Ottaway,2001). I am not aware of any scholarship that has explicitly tried to understand the WCD as part of a broader shift in global governance. Certainly, the influence of transnational networks on policy formation is well recognized in the field (see for example Reinicke, 1999; Nye, 2001; Held and McGrew, 2007), but given the unusual power politics leading up to the creation of the WCD and the unique procedural aspects of the WCD as a groundbreaking multistakeholder forum, this is a much needed area of scholarship. I began with a rather broad set of questions to push my research forward: How is the WCD report being utilized by various actors and what kind of authority does the WCD report have in the decisionmaking process? How is the WCD being used and interpreted in countries at different stages of development and in different regions of the world? Does the WCD present a threat to state sovereignty in these countries? As I researched the influence of the WCD on various global and state-level policy dialogues, it became apparent that my research questions were all wrong. I could make some generalizations about certain types of actors (developing countries, dam critics, etc.) regarding their explicit reactions to the WCD, but trying to tease out the impact of the WCD from the numerous, complex institution building forces would be futile. The closest thing to a magic bullet in this regard is the South Africa Multistakeholder

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Initiative to discuss the implementation of the WCD recommendations. Instead, I realized a more effective approach would be to attempt to understand the political dynamics that led to the creation of the WCD and how that process was connected to other changes in global governance, with the most important thread being the procedural component emphasizing stakeholder participation. I posed the following research questions: What were the principle factors in the formation of the WCD and how were its recommendations received? What actual authority does the WCD have as a transnational rule-making organization? To what extent is sovereignty being reconfigured as a consequence of the WCD? How can we understand the WCD in the context of other changes in global environmental governance? The process of analyzing the WCD in this context relied heavily on scholars of global environmental politics and, more broadly, political globalization. I turned to Ken Conca, Ronnie Lipschutz, and Karen Litfin extensively for the former and Peter Dicken, James Rosenau, Anthony Held, and David McGrew for much of the theoretical foundations of this thesis. The literature supported the claim that the WCD is evidence of more pluralistic conceptions of sovereignty emerging around the world and that the authority to govern is increasingly based on definitions of legitimacy linked to popular sovereignty instead of legal sovereignty. In the end though, understanding how the WCD fits into the complex global political structure depends to some extent on empirical evidence that is elusive, murky, and subject to interpretation. I limited my focus to the question of stakeholder participation because it is a cross-cutting issue and by far the most important of the WCD “core values” in the sense of democratizing the decision-making process, which is closely

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connected to other attempts to reform development practices and procedures outside the water sector. I tried to balance any concrete evidence of normative influence the WCD has had with a healthy dose of the reality of institutional analysis – the forces shaping institutional change are numerous and isolation is difficult if not impossible. I found Ken Conca’s (2006) Governing Water: Contentious Transnational Politics and Global Institution Building to be an invaluable source in this regard. Patrick McCully’s (2001a) second edition of Silenced Rivers: The Ecology and Politics of Large Dams includes an entire chapter dedicated to the “new order” ushered in by the WCD, which proved equally as valuable in assessing the crucial “activist’s” perspective, as well as a touchstone for reactions and reception of the WCD report. The International Rivers Network, of which McCully is affiliated, provided other useful information from the activist’s corner. Finally, the UNEP Dams and Development Program (DDP) is the most comprehensive source of information on the implementation of the WCD norms. Several documents dedicated to specific elements of the DDP’s procedural findings over the course of five years and Dams and Development: Relevant Practices for Improved Decision Making (UNEP, 2007a) provided much of the “hard” evidence concerning the deliberation and implementation of the WCD at multiple scales of governance. In the case of Ecuador’s Jondachi project, this was complimented with field research conducted in Ecuador. Although the Jondachi project is small in comparison to many dams, I chose it as a case study in part because of a lack of options. There were only eleven examples that the UNEP was able to find of successful implementation of the WCD principle of “gaining public acceptance.” But much more importantly, my field research revealed a very different outcome than the UNEP. Although the Jondachi project was heralded by

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the UNEP as an example of a good project based on stakeholder inclusiveness in the negotiation process and benefit sharing, in less than a year since those findings were published in 2007 the circumstances have changed entirely with the introduction of a proposal for a new dam project on the Jondachi that completely disregarded the WCD recommendations. This obviously reinforces the uncertain nature of the analytical task, but it also points to the fact that we have a long way to go in achieving principles of governance that can both protect the planet’s rivers and harness them for purposes of development.

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CHAPTER 1 Sovereignty in a Turbulent World

It is difficult to avoid the conviction that the final years of the twentieth century constitute a period of profound change in the nature and conduct of world affairs. The evidence of this may be more anecdotal than systematic, but its accumulation continues to grow and become increasingly hard to ignore. -

James Rosenau, Turbulence in World Politics

Conceptually, the idea of governance beyond the national level is most often associated with cooperation and collaboration between the governments of territorial states through an international bureaucracy that represents the states’ interests. In other words, the ontological model replicates our existing notion of the state-dominated system at the international scale while relegating non-state actors to secondary roles; an inadequate system given, for instance, the transformation of boundaries, the erosion of state authority, and the proliferation of NGOs in today’s world. (Rosenau, 1999) Furthermore, the prevailing system is widely perceived as having limited political legitimacy and limited effectiveness, including such cited defects as the structural dominance of the most powerful states, an imperative to legitimize and sustain global markets above other needs, and a technocratic nature that lacks transparency and inclusiveness. (Held and McGrew, 2007) Following a neo-Gramscian view of global governance, suprastate political institutions are seen as ineffective (or at least inefficient) at dealing with global problems because they are beholden to the most powerful actors, in

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this case the so-called transnational capital class of elites (Robinson, 2004) that wields hegemonic power. (see also Hiatt, 2007; Hardt and Negri, 2000) Instead, a system of global governance that would be truly responsive to global problems would undergo democratic reforms to be more transparent, inclusive, and accountable. This does not necessarily require the creation of more powerful formal global institutions; however it does require opportunities to reach consensus on norms and practices. This is where the role of global civil society is most relevant and becoming increasingly more so. Environmentally focused sectors of global civil society are engaged in a long-term project, perhaps unconsciously, to remake global governance. This project may be rooted in the civil societies of different countries, but they are transnationally linked. What is frequently referred to as the “environmental movement” is better understood as a “transnational system of rules, principles, norms, and practices, oriented around a very large number of often dissimilar actors focused on environmental protection, sustainability, and governance.” (Lipschutz, 1996, p. 2) Before plunging further into this discussion of global environmental governance, a few ideas need to be made clear. How do we differentiate between local environmental problems and global ones? And how are transnational environmental movements different from social ones? “Global environmental change is best understood as a social phenomenon, rather than a physical one imposed on nature.” (Lipschutz, 1996, p. 22, italics in original) The distinction between global and local is the result of political boundaries and not a consequence of nature. Seemingly localized environmental problems, for instance watershed degradation, can also be understood as global problems if they are happening around the world. And most “local” environmental problems are part of much larger

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global economic networks, for example, a dam that is built to supply electricity for China’s export industry. Let me expand this further. The local problem, construction of a dam, is a physical phenomenon happening at numerous, individual locations throughout the world. But the local physical changes to the environment are linked to each other through global social connections, such as the impact on food or commercial markets (depending on the dam’s purpose), as well as global environmental connections, such as the impact on greenhouse gas emissions or the disruption of the natural water cycle. Of course, in most cases we tend to view problems using socially constructed political boundaries and not ecological ones, so in the case of dams and other “local” problems – as differentiated from “global commons” problems like climate change and the depletion of the ozone layer – the problem is normally constructed as falling under the province of those social groupings directly affected, typically a community, region, state, or group of states. However, as awareness increases of the interconnectivity of social, economic, and environmental networks at multiple scales, our social construction of the problem shifts. Therefore, “the ways in which we conceptualize environmental problems thus have a great deal of influence on how we try to address them.” (Lipschutz, 1996, p. 23) Transnational networks have been effective at advocating a new paradigm for development that emphasizes these micro-macro linkages and the interconnectedness of social, economic, and environmental needs. (see Wapner, 1995; Fisher, 1997; Betsill and Bulkeley, 2004) Unquestionably, globalization is creating new scales of interaction economically, socially, and environmentally. The suprastate political structure has been most responsive to the economic influences of globalization, but we have to wonder if other changes that

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incorporate social and environmental influences, for which the WCD could be a model, are in their nascent stages of formation. The literature on economic globalization provides an interesting backdrop to explore this political transformation, as do other transnational issues thought to be reconfiguring sovereignty such as human rights and humanitarian intervention. (see Held, 2003; Lyons and Mastanduno, 1995) From this birds-eye view of international politics, we can overlay the environmental forces that are shifting conventional concepts of authority. I present the view that the WCD is both a consequence of the authority crisis in global politics consistent with James Rosenau’s “turbulence model,” and a partial answer to the failure of global institutions.

Globalization and the “Erosion” of Sovereignty In the anarchical space that exists outside of state authority it has increasingly become the view that transnational corporations are the dominant economic actors and a threat to the economic autonomy of states. There has been much acclaim from the “hyperglobalist” camp that transnational corporations are redefining the way we think about the conventional, state-centered economic world order. The literature asserts that changes in technology, regulatory developments, and the elimination of international trade barriers have created a single global economy in which corporations are no longer wedded to their country of origin and are increasingly “placeless.” The earliest literature on the subject preceded the term “globalization,” which has since become the target of dissidents’ discontent for a world supposedly managed inequitably by transnational corporations.

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In 1971, Vernon observed that sovereignty and national economic strength appeared “drained of meaning” and a few years later, Global Reach cited Dow Chemical’s CEO’s “dream of establishing his headquarters on a neutral island ‘beholden’ to no nation.” (Kobrin, 2001, p. 2) The massive waves of liberalization, privatization, and deregulation that have swept the world economy over the past thirty years have served to elevate the argument that the transnational corporation, which is able to almost instantaneously shift capital and operations to locations with the most favorable business environment, has affected the state’s ability to tax and regulate. In Kobrin’s (2001) assessment, “globalization is weakening territorial sovereignty to the point where economic and political governance based on geographic jurisdiction may no longer be viable.” (p. 25) But the argument can also be made that globalization has actually made the nation state stronger or at the very least that the dynamic of change is not as simple as “hyperglobalists” suggest. International trade and financial flows connect national and regional flows of production and capital accumulation. For instance, “a financial center in a global city is a local entity that is also part of a globally scaled electronic network.” (Sassen, 2007, p. 17) Sassen contends that global actors are still physically embedded in states and consequently the state preserves sovereignty over many of the regulatory functions of the global economy. In fact, Sassen argues that corporations prefer that the state regulate many economic conditions and depend on the existence of a legitimate public authority to provide such functions as the safeguarding of private property, the enforcement of contracts, and to control inflation. (see also Dicken, 2003) Consequently, markets are embedded in the state economic structure and will foreseeably remain there.

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Even large transnational corporations, often associated with claims such as “wedded to no country,” have shown increasing predilection toward state regulation. Corporations turn to states for protection as the arbiters of an international economic order that currently lacks regulation and stability. A fundamental structural weakness of global capitalism is the competition for market share, which can only support a finite number of firms. Globalization has exposed formerly protected corporations to the intensive competition of international markets and “in the face of their structural weakness, transnational corporations have resorted to old-fashioned political lobbying, particularly of their parent (home) government.” (Walter, 1998, p. 298) However, while it is at least in theory desirable for the state to maintain sovereignty over certain bounded functions, Sassen (2007) also explores the possibility that national borders are being disembedded from their encasements in favor of supranational private authority. In other words, as a consequence of globalization we are seeing the willingness of the state to surrender its sovereign right to maintain or develop the administrative and legal instruments inside its territory in favor of private global regulation, at least with regards to international trade. We can posit some possible trajectories for global politics in a post-state world. In Robinson’s (2004) theory of global capitalism, instead of formulating national policy, the nation state administers policy that is formulated by supranational institutions such as the IMF, the World Bank, and the WTO. In this way, the transnational state acts as the conduit for the expansion of global capitalism and the genesis of a new global political order. It is plausible to imagine a new environmental order of the same magnitude if one is willing to consider such a dramatic economic restructuring. However, this would also require a massive leap in

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environmental values difficult to imagine today. The organization currently tasked with international environmental regulation, the United Nations Environment Program, lacks the international authority or financial resources of today’s WTO. (Lipschutz, 2004) Generally, transnational environmental regimes lack the enforcement mechanisms of international trade regimes, and are often viewed as subordinate to international trade regimes, as the tenuous acceptance of the Kyoto Protocol clearly demonstrates. In the popular “erosion of sovereignty” thesis, the incompatibility of a territorially defined states system and global environmental problems that require supranational cooperation are construed as a challenge to sovereignty. Alternatively, sovereignty is being challenged from below by the proliferation of community-based environmental organizations that claim authority by way of connectedness to specific ecosystems. (Litfin, 1998; Conca, 1995) Still, as will be discussed in Chapter 2, international regimes remain largely the purview of states and the state’s authority is generally uncontested as the enforcer of environmental treaties. In fact, a decline in sovereignty may actually limit the ability of the state to protect, as environmentalist concerns over economic forces and especially GATT and GATS clearly illustrate. Or a state’s autonomy and authority may be enhanced at home while it is diminished or constrained internationally. (Litfin, 1998) Rather than an either/or view of sovereignty, we should recognize that the relationship between transnational issues and state sovereignty is complex. Sovereignty is being simultaneously eroded and reinforced by a number of global forces, especially transnational environmental issues, and these forces aren’t exerted equally over all states; weak states may be made weaker by globalization while strong states are made stronger. (Dicken, 2003) Global climate change, energy interdependence, and greenhouse gas

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emissions are just a few of the issues that have coerced international cooperation that is “reconfiguring” political space, as opposed to the simple binary of either eroding or bolstering sovereignty. The environment/sovereignty nexus is a complex one. Understanding the ways that environmental issues are reconfiguring sovereignty is critical to advancing the thesis that the WCD is redefining global governance.

Reconfiguring Sovereignty Sovereignty is supreme authority within a territory. We can distinguish between de jure, or legal, and de facto, or actual, sovereignty. Although a sovereign may have a legal or constitutional right to exclusive authority over a territory, it may lack actual control. The sovereignty of many developing countries is questioned on this basis. Traditional understandings of sovereignty rest on the legal authority of the state, a view that is unlikely to yield any conclusive evidence that environmental challenges are reconfiguring sovereignty. However, if authority is understood more broadly in terms of legitimacy, we can examine the actual practice of sovereignty rather than simply its legal formalism and see that environmental practices are leading to new norms of sovereignty. (Litfin, 1998) We also should distinguish between internal and external sovereignty. External sovereignty refers to a state’s authority vis-à-vis other states, whereas internal sovereignty concerns that relationship between the state and its people. States viewed as lacking a legitimate claim to authority may be subjected to intervention by other external actors, whether for environmental, human rights, or geopolitical reasons. The principle of nonintervention, which derives from the sovereign right to autonomy within a delineated

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territory, is being modified as a consequence of not just transboundary environmental problems, but also recognition of global ecological interdependence. The case of the Amazon rainforest discussed later in this chapter is a prime example. The EU’s increased authority as a supranational environmental regulator, the ability of the myriad UN environmental bodies to set agendas, and the influence of multilateral development banks on the environmental policies of borrower nations all speak to this shifting notion of autonomy. (Litfin, 1998) States, especially weak ones, can no longer rely on sovereign claims of nonintervention where transnationally connected environmental malfeasance is in question. We are still faced with the dilemma of when and how intervention is acceptable. Rosenau suggests viewing sovereignty as a continuous rather than dichotomous variable. From a strict legal perspective, either a state has legitimate authority or it does not, but this obscures the fact that there are situational, domestic, and international determinants as well instead of two extreme points. (Rosenau, 1995) Increasingly, authority is being linked to democratic legitimacy. (Held, 2003) The historical basis for legitimacy drew on the implicit belief that the sovereign represented the people, but with few exceptions, the “nation-state” is an aspirational designation based on the fact that the geopolitical territorial entity that is the state and the cultural/ethical entity that is the nation rarely, if ever, geographically coincide. (Mann, 2003) Instead, the basis for internal sovereignty is being challenged, and with it, external sovereignty appears to be weakened. This stands in the face of international relations scholars who tend to view sovereignty in the context of Hobbe’s Leviathan with little regard for its “popular” dimensions. According to Litfin (1998), “This tack ignores the fact that the authority of the modern state rests not merely on coercion, but on

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legitimacy.” (p. 15, italics in original) As such, a central component of state authority lies not only in its autonomy relative to external actors, but in its power over civil society and private business. In this regard, Mann (2003) questions whether the significance of international networks is declining relative to some combination of local and transnational networks. Indeed, the dramatic increase in transnational citizen activism and in the ability of NGOs to penetrate weak states and fill social and environmental institutional voids suggests a shift toward popular sovereignty. (Liftin, 1998) Environmental discourse in this regard has undergone rapid change in recent decades. The shift from the “limits to growth” paradigm – a challenge to resourceintensive development – outlined at the 1972 UN Conference on the Human Environment in Stockholm to the 1992 Rio Earth Summit concept of “global change” captures the broad paradigm shift. Stockholm asserted the state’s sovereign right to exploit domestic resources pursuant to their own environmental policies as long as they did not cause damage to other states or international areas. This essentially established sovereign rights and responsibilities as the framework for future debate, although it laid the foundation for addressing problems of the global commons. Scientific understanding of the interconnectedness of ecosystems and the rise of environmental NGOs during the 1970s and 1980s pressured the international community to adopt a new framework, which is captured in Rio’s “global change” paradigm. Rio’s recognition of the “integral and interdependent nature of our Earth” (Rio Declaration on Environment and Development, 1992) and the 1987 Brundtland Report Our Common Future, which established the concept of sustainable development, are important

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milestones in intergovernmental cooperation over the environment and a call for global management of global problems through collective action. However, the designation of “global” largely depends on a physical determination. Therefore, climate change and the depletion of the ozone layer, which are physically interlinked, receive global designation, whereas deforestation, which may have a global ecological impact, is relegated to secondary status as a global concern because forests are physically intransient. Therefore, “the ability of individual sovereign states to claim jurisdiction is thus a key determinant of whether particular problems or trends are accorded ‘global’ status.” (Conca, 1995, 152) Furthermore, Rio and Our Common Future assert state authority as the regulators of the environment. With the exception of Principle 1 of Our Common Future, all subsequent principles begin with the words: “States shall…” On the issue of sovereignty, the Rio Declaration co-opted Stockholm’s Principle 2 verbatim: “States have, in accordance with the Charter of the United Nations and the principles of international law, the sovereign right to exploit their own resources pursuant to their own environmental policies, and the responsibility to ensure that activities within their jurisdiction or control do not cause damage to the environment of other States or of areas beyond the limits of national jurisdiction.” International environmental law at this time embraced the principle of sovereignty and the regime approach to mediating global discourse, which amounts to an “implicit but powerful endorsement of national sovereignty as part of the solution to ‘global’ problems.” (Conca, 1995, 153) This assumption relies on the basis that most of nature is domestic and bounded, which leaves only the exceptional aspects of nature that resist territorialization to the realm of international cooperation: transboundary problems and global commons problems. (Conca, 2006) But even this fairly rigid construction of

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territory is being redefined in the face of ecological and economic interdependence. The case of the Amazon rainforest is illustrative.

The Amazon The 1990s was an important period of reconfiguring for international environmental law. Deforestation in the Brazilian rainforest was the central battleground in the fight to redefine the sovereign notion of “territory.” 60% of the Amazon rainforest lies within Brazil’s defined borders, but ecologically it is an important part of the global commons: It is a producer of oxygen, a sink for CO2 emissions, a regulator of weather patterns, water and nutrient cycles. Severe deforestation in the rainforest led to claims that the Amazon should be designated as international territory for ecological reasons. Although dissimilar to the oceans, the atmosphere, and other classically conceived “global commons” in this regard, the interconnectedness of ecosystems was an important argument for intervention despite strong claims of sovereign authority by Brazil. The rainforest is also an important part of the global economy. There are strong corporate interests, and global capital flows and development loans connect the rainforest to transnational links. Conca (1995) traces the complex transnational forces that redefined Brazilian sovereignty over the rainforest and in the end demonstrates that, “governments can be subjected to intense pressures to make their policies conform to emerging global environmental standards.” (p. 167) The Brazil case illustrates how this reconfiguring is simultaneously weakening and bolstering sovereignty relative to external actors. The international environmental movement was critical in mobilizing national governments and international organizations to “remove” the Amazonian rainforest from

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classical notions of sovereignty and instead place it in a “global commons” category. The environmental discourse was shaped and defined by developed countries, exposing the North-South power gap, but the debate was framed in terms of the rights and responsibilities of states, which underscores the principles of sovereignty, collective action, and regime building outlined at Rio. More specifically for Brazil, the preservation agenda put in place to protect the Amazon enhanced the state’s “infrastructural” power as a regulator and environmental manager, but also mobilized civil society across the entire spectrum of Brazilian politics in a way that undermined the state’s “despotic” power. (Conca, 1995, p. 167-168) This distinction between infrastructural and despotic authority is significant to our understanding of sovereignty, because the success of environmental regimes depend on the ability and willingness of the state to be an effective environmental manager, but an able state may not necessarily be a willing state, and vice versa. Following Mann (1994), the creation of institutions that make for effective control of society – infrastructural power – requires the despotic power of a strong state. But historically, this infrastructural power “disappears” into civil society and leads to an increase in social power rather than reinforcing the despotic power of state elites over other classes. This hints at one of the major challenges for the WCD: the problem of institutionally weak states. The ability of the WCD norms to penetrate the state depends on a robust institutional framework for managing water and development issues and the presence of civil society organizations to leverage the WCD as a basis for exerting influence on the state through that framework. However, in many of the dam building countries of the Global South, where the state only possesses authority in a legal sense and infrastructural power is weak, the

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opportunities for civil society to develop and seize infrastructural power from the state are minimal.

Sovereignty and Water (Briefly) The relationship between sovereignty, international regimes, and institutions of water governance is of critical relevance to the thesis given that the WCD has been normatively influential in shaping changes to global environmental governance. These issues will be returned to in more depth in Chapter 3, but a brief overview is presented here. Freshwater is by nature domestically territorialized, which reinforces the regime approach for dealing with transboundary freshwater problems, but ignores the important linkages between domestically delineated water and regional or global ecosystems. “Thus, regimes gravitate toward internationally shared river basins, but not toward watershed management practices.” (Conca, 2006, p. 49) This doesn’t necessarily preclude a view of rivers that isn’t territorially defined from becoming part of the global environmental governance framework, but it would likely require a departure from the state-based international regime negotiations first. There is evidence that this process is perhaps beginning as sovereignty is reconfigured in various ways by contentious global ecopolitics. However in a manner similar to the other challenges to sovereignty discussed earlier in this chapter, the state’s authority is simultaneously weakened and bolstered by these challenges. The inability of the United Nations to arbitrate an internationally agreed upon legal framework for managing shared basins and the lack of a single organization within the UN system that can claim responsibility for water-related issues (discussed in Chapter

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3), has created space for more pluralistic understandings of authority, of which the WCD is a prime example. Non-state actors engaged in the dialogue were given equal status to state actors and the WCD recommendations – based on principles of watershed democracy – essentially moved a set of traditional state responsibilities outside the sphere of the state. (Conca, 2006) But by no means have non-state actors tried to go around the state in their bid for authority. The WCD emphasized the need for national stakeholder dialogues to review its recommendations, which effectively enhanced the role of the state as an agent of norm legitimization. (Conca, 2006) Elsewhere, the World Water Council and the Global Water Partnership have attempted to make in-roads to the state in the absence of a united, effective global water management model. The World Water Vision, an attempt at a comprehensive solution to global water problems by the World Water Council in 2000, asserted the sovereignty of governments as the key decision-making actors. However, the Vision failed to reconcile some important challenges to the states system that have been normatively influential in shifting conventional notions of authority and are likely to become even more so. For instance, there are strong claims asserting local authority over specific basins on the basis of cultural heritage and proximate ecological knowledge, and these claims are likely to be given a louder voice in the globalized world. (Hunt, 2004) Even more salient is that fact that the private sector is being looked to for virtually all new investment in global water supply. Although the current financial crisis may cause the pendulum to swing back towards a government-funded model, there is little dispute that the private sector will play an important role in water services development, and thus towards a “transnationally fluid and deterritorialized form of global capitalism.”

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(Conca, 2006, p. 209) This raises some critical questions about sovereignty and water. Conca asks, whose water is it and what is the relationship between authority in a watershed, authority in a boardroom, and authority in a state? The World Bank’s position on water scarcity problems helps to illustrate this authority dilemma. Predicting that the “wars of the next century will be over water,” the Bank has advocated the full-cost pricing of water based on the following rationale: if water wars between sovereign states are inevitable because nature allocates scarce resources unevenly – and we make the general assumption that war should be avoided – then a market solution to facilitate the exchange of resources between sovereign consumers is the best means of diffusing conflict in international basins. This is a stark departure from realism. Classical geopolitics rooted in the idea of state sovereignty was a product of imperialism and Social Darwinism (Lipschutz, 113). Reliance on the proper functioning of international markets and international cooperation was considered a recipe for national disaster. Liberalism has emerged as the competitor to realism, but it opens up some highly problematic issues, discussed in Chapter 3.

Conclusion The formation of the WCD as an autonomous tri-sectoral network consisting of industry, civil society, and institutional actors, each acting independent of his or her parent institution, poses an interesting theoretical dilemma. Where do we locate the WCD in the state-centered global governance framework? One possible answer lies in the changing dynamics of sovereignty, the principle that has undergirded the international political system since the peace of Westphalia in 1648. There is a great deal of literature

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asserting that globalization is reconfiguring state sovereignty. Much of this points to economic forces, and particularly transnational finance, as the delimiting factor sculpting new notions of sovereignty. I will make the argument that it is as much social dynamics, often in response to economic factors, which has allowed for the emergence of a transnational rule-making organization such as the WCD. Ironically, globalization, a concept typically derided by environmentalists, may be prying open the state system in a way that permits transnational environmental governance to take shape. Part of this concept is linked to the notion that governments and international organizations lack actual, as opposed to legal, legitimacy and therefore the sovereign authority to govern. Consequently, the significance of international networks is declining and is being usurped by transnationally connected, but locally rooted civil societies. Collectively, this transnational environmental movement has been increasingly effective at advancing principles of democracy at multiple levels of environmental governance. As a consequence, “significant aspects of the formulation and implementation of global public policy occur within an expanding array of transgovernmental networks.” (Held and McGrew, 2007, p. 156). This idea will be taken up in the next chapter in a discussion of the large dams debate and the role of the anti-dam movement in creating a new platform for governance, the World Commission on Dams

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CHAPTER 2 The Large Dams Debate and the WCD

Like the pyramids of Egypt, these massive public works demand the effort of an entire society to complete but bring virtually no economic returns. Even if the structures are simply built and abandoned, they serve the short-term interests of all concerned – from firms that receive construction contracts to politicians wanting the employment and commerce the projects provide to their districts during the construction phase. -

P.M. Fearnside, 1989

Large Dams: An Introduction There are over 45,000 large dams (usually defined as over 15 meters in height) throughout the world. While dam building peaked in the 1970s, an average of one large dam was commissioned per day during the 20th Century with the vast majority coming in the latter half. Most of the current construction is being done in developing countries with China leading the way. China is by far the largest builder of dams accounting for nearly half of all large dams in the world, followed by the United States, Russia, Japan, and India. There are over 300 “major dams” fitting the industry definition on the basis of height (over 300 meters), volume (at least 15 million cubic meters – six times the volume of the Great Pyramid at Cheops), reservoir storage (at least 25 cubic kilometers – enough water to flood Luxembourg to a depth of 1 meter), or installed capacity (at least 1000 megawatts – capable of generating sufficient power for a European city with one million people). (McCully, 2001a, pp. 6-7) Dams provide a variety of benefits: flood control, irrigation, water supply, power generation, and navigational purposes. These benefits are provided through the two main functions of dams: water storage to compensate for fluctuations in river flow or water and

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energy demand, and the creation of “hydraulic head,” which effectively raises the height of the river upstream of the dam relative to the location of power turbines for the purpose of generating electricity. Turbines can be located at the dam site or some distance downstream to create more head with the water directed through penstocks to the turbines. Dams can be either “run-of-river” or storage dams. Run-of-river dams cannot effectively regulate downstream flows because they only create a small reservoir called a “head pond” for the purpose of generating hydropower. Collectively, storage dams have the capacity to impound an estimated five times the combined flow of all the world’s rivers in their reservoirs. (WCD, 2000) Sixty percent of all the world’s rivers have been dammed, including almost all major rivers. Dams provide 19 percent of the world’s electricity and 30-40 percent of the world’s irrigation water. These services have come at a price. In economic terms, the total cost of building all large dams is estimated to be $2 trillion. This says nothing of the environmental impacts in economic terms. Freshwater ecosystems are estimated to account for 26 percent of the total economic value of all ecosystem services. “Although the global value of fish, waterfowl, and other goods extracted from freshwater systems cannot be estimated from available data, it certainly exceeds $100 billion per year and may be several times that amount.” (Hunt, 2004, p. 30) Dams have destroyed fisheries, flooded extensive tracts of timber acreage and farmlands, and turned once fertile agricultural floodplains into barren land. While impossible to quantify economically, this toll is likely as much or more than the actual cost of the dams themselves. One number that is possible to quantify, although staggeringly difficult to comprehend, is the social impact of dams. It is estimated that dams have displaced forty to eighty million people.

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Despite these costs, dams have been a significant part of human history because of the benefits they deliver. The earliest dams can be traced back thousands of years to the Sumerians and early Egyptian civilization for purposes of irrigation and even primitive attempts to capture the energy of flowing water. The Industrial Revolution provided a glimpse of man’s engineering potential with widespread construction of dams for water supply to the growing urban populations of England. Technological innovations to improve the energy efficiency of turbines towards the end of the 19th Century led to the world’s first hydropower plant in Wisconsin in 1882. Progress in turbine design and dam engineering over the next couple of decades allowed for the construction of high, concrete dams. The modern era of dam building was symbolically launched in 1931 with the first blasting of the Hoover Dam site by the US Bureau of Reclamation. After its completion in 1935, Hoover stood 85 meters higher than any other dam in the world, although it was soon surpassed by Washington State’s Grand Coulee. (McCully, 2001a, pp. 13-17) The construction of dams in the Western U.S. by the Bureau of Reclamation during the middle third of the 20th Century was complimented by the Army Corps of Engineers’ projects there and elsewhere in the country. Together they redefined what was possible with engineering in their attempts to tame the country’s wild rivers and harness their waters for human use as hundreds of massive water projects, and thousands of smaller ones, sprung up throughout the country. Without the Bureau’s and the Corps’ efforts, the millions of people who live in Las Vegas, Los Angeles, Phoenix, and other areas of the desert southwest would be unable to live there, and the multi-billion dollar

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agribusiness of California’s Imperial Valley would not exist. (Reisner, 1993; Worster, 1992) In many ways, this was as much a consequence of political factors, owing both to the propensity for dam-associated legislative “pork” and the competition between the organizations for projects and prestige, as it was the development demands of the country. Marc Reisner (1993) documents the inclination for bureaucratic selfperpetuation that led to the Bureau of Reclamation-Army Corps of Engineers rivalry and fueled the “glory years” of dam building in the U.S. at a time in history when “we had the confidence, the money, and one might say, the compulsion to build on a grand scale.” (p. 212) However, with mounting public opposition to large dams and most of the ideal dam sites used up along with the political will power to push such contentious projects through legislative channels, the era of great dam building ended in 1988 in the U.S. with the restructuring of the Bureau who stated, “The arid West essentially has been reclaimed. The major rivers have been harnessed.” (Bureau of Reclamation, 2008) Still, the Corp and the Bureau left the legacy that comprehensive river basin schemes were the future of development and big dams presented the way forward. But it was the Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA) that became the model for the development agencies and the rest of the world. There are two types of dam building bureaucracies: national agencies and river basin development agencies. The TVA, created in 1933, is the original version of the latter. The underlying concept behind the TVA is simplistically beautiful: take an undeveloped, impoverished river basin out of the control of corrupt local officials and place it in the hands of a federal bureaucracy charged with the broad authority to develop

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the region. (McCully, 2001a, p. 245) Nowhere is the theoretical link between dams and economic development more closely associated. The fact that no study of the TVA’s effectiveness was conducted until the 1980s did not prevent the TVA from becoming a model the world over. Observers from around the world visited the Tennessee Valley and returned with the vision that, “one or more multipurpose dams built by a centralized authority could quickly transform any regional economy from subsistence agriculture to agribusiness and industry.” (McCully, 2001a, p. 245) The reality is quite different. The Tennessee Valley continues to be one of the poorest and most underdeveloped regions in the U.S. Despite this, the massive Indus system projects jointly managed by Pakistan and India are “still proudly described as being based on the TVA.” (Ward, 2002, p. 89) The same is true for other integrated water basin management projects in the developing world. The World Bank, by far the largest public financier of dams, uses the TVA as a model for centrally planned development. (see for example World Bank Technical Paper No. 416) The World Bank and dams have a long history. The first ever Bank loan to a developing country was in 1948 for three dams in Chile. (Khagram, 2005, p. 7) In many cases, a dam loan is the largest single loan a country receives from the Bank. Bank lending for dams peaked in the late 1970s at about $2 billion per year. Since then, opposition to dams, later validated by the WCD Report, has gradually forced the Bank largely out of dam lending. Its withdrawal from the Three Gorges project was particularly symbolic, although the Bank also pushed ahead with controversial projects such as Uganda’s Bujagali Dam on the Nile despite strong local opposition and the withdrawal from the project by several bilateral funding agencies. (Conca, 2006, p. 207) The Bank

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has also had a longstanding interest in assisting in the creation of international river basin organizations. For instance, the Bank played a key role in the negotiations over the Indus in the late 1950s, without which India and Pakistan would be unable to sustain their tenuous relations. (Ward, 2002) There are a number of reasons that the World Bank has been so instrumental in supporting the construction of large dams. For one thing, it suited the Cold War geopolitical aims of the United States. (C. Sneddon, personal communication, March 22, 2009) Second, industrialized countries dominate the voting authority of the Bank and massive water projects mean contracts for Western construction and consulting firms. Third, Bank bureaucrats are keen on dams because promotion within the Bank has been historically based on volume, and a large dam loan amounts to a lot of money. Furthermore, since Bank loans are always repaid with the borrowing country’s tax revenues, Bank agents have little incentive to ensure that their projects actually work. (McCully, 2001a, p. 258) Finally, the political class in many borrowing countries are eager to see contentious projects to fruition without any opposition because large dam projects present enormous opportunities for graft by corrupt elites (Stiglitz, 2003) and a large dam is usually viewed as a political victory. Collectively, this has led to a policy of bigger is better, when in many instances several smaller projects could have met development needs at a much lower social, environmental, and economic cost.

The Anti-Dam Movement The debate over large dams has grown to a head. Today, although large dams are still being built, the pace has slowed considerably due to a number of factors such as the

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lack of remaining available dam sites that fit the hydrologic, geologic, and geographic profile suitable for a large dam project, increased awareness of the environmental and social impact of dams, and a vocal opposition to dams that makes their construction politically challenging in many countries. The dam opposition movement grew alongside the environmental movement in the second half of the 20th Century. The 1969 National Environmental Protection Act and the 1974 Endangered Species Act are both notable legislative precedents that added legitimacy. Goldsmith and Hilyard’s The Social and Environmental Effects of Large Dams (1984) and Cadillac Desert, Marc Reisner’s history of land development and water policy in the American west first published in 1986, popularized the negative effects of large dams. (Other literature that influenced the anti-dam movement includes Farvar and Milton’s The Careless Technology (1972), several books during the late 80s and early 90s by environmental reporter Fred Pearce, and Patrick McCully’s classic Silenced Rivers, first published in 1996.) In 1982, the World Bank revised its policies on resettlement and environmental assessment and in 1993 it established a formal appeals mechanism, the Inspection Panel, in part to contend with the growing dissension over dams. During the 1990s, the unification of anti-dam activists with broader elements of the anti-globalization movement and the alliance of Northern activist groups with NGOs and affected peoples groups in the South led to the creation of a massive and powerful global network that has been an instrumental component of anti-dam campaigns, as well as a driving force behind the creation of the WCD. Many of the local social movements organizing against dams, notably the Save the Narmada Movement against the World Bank-funded Sardar Sarovar dam in India, had struggled long and hard against their governments prior to the “global”

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anti-dam movement really taking off. (C. Sneddon, personal communication, March 22, 2009) But the use of what Keck and Sikkink refer to as a “boomerang effect,” by which local movements appeal to transnational advocacy networks to bring pressure from their own governments on the offending regime, proved critical to movements in states where political channels between domestic groups and their government are closed. The transnationalization of the anti-dam movement forced the World Bank to withdraw from the Sardar Sarovar project in 1993, as well as other large dam projects such as China’s Three Gorges dam also in 1993, the Arun III dam in Nepal in 1995, and elsewhere. (McCully, 2001a, p. 21) Dams aren’t the only contentious projects that the World Bank funds. Other large infrastructural projects, such as highways, mining projects, and urban infrastructure, also face issues of environmental sustainability, equitable development, transparency, and participatory decision-making. However, dams are especially contentious because of their scope and scale. They are major investments, often the largest single investment by a country. Their benefits tend to be realized on a national or regional scale, whereas their physical impacts are felt locally, and in many cases by people whose livelihoods are negatively affected by damming, for example through the loss of a fishing or agricultural resource. Resettlement considerations tend to be larger and more destructive of local livelihoods than other infrastructural projects and large dams affect critical, and often scarce freshwater resources. A lack of accepted solutions to the social and environmental impacts of dams and the lower than anticipated economic performance of many projects has continued to fuel the debate. (WCD, 2000, pp. 20-21)

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The World Commission on Dams As this debate heated up in the 1990s, several factors ultimately led to the creation of the WCD. The origins of the WCD lie in the numerous anti-dam movements, such as the Save the Narmada Movement, fought by local communities around the world. (McCully, 2001b) These people’s movements shifted the accepted notion of the appropriate relationship between the state and its citizens and increased recognition of the negative environmental and social impacts of dams. The 1992 Morse Report – an independent review of the Sardar Sarovar project – and the 1994 Manibeli Declaration, signed by activist groups and NGOS, which called for a moratorium on all World Bank dams until a review of World Bank projects was conducted, led to a World Bank Operations Evaluation Report (OED) completed in 1996. This internal review of a sample of 50 Bank-funded dams concluded that 74% were acceptable or potentially acceptable projects, which amounted to an effective endorsement of all large dams. But the review was heavily criticized by NGOs and anti-dam movements for its bias towards pro-dam sympathies and flawed methodology. (McCully, 2001b) Meanwhile, World Bank President James Wolfensohn was working to improve the reputation of the Bank by making it more transparent and open to civil society input. This opened the door for a multi-stakeholder forum on dams, which became the 1997 workshop of dam stakeholders in Gland, Switzerland attended by 39 participants from public, private, and civil society sectors. The Gland workshop was an attempt to reconcile differences and reach some sort of consensus to diffuse the highly contentious debate. Three issues emerged out of Gland. The first concerned the critical advances needed in knowledge and practice for energy and water resource management. The

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second was the methodologies and approaches required to meet these advances. Finally, a proposal was made for a follow up conference with all the key stakeholders. Instead of a simple follow up conference, the World Bank and the World Conservation Union birthed the World Commission on Dams, and gave it two broad mandates: to review the development effectiveness of large dams and assess their alternatives, and to develop internationally accepted criteria, guidelines, standards for planning, design, appraisal, construction, operation, monitoring, and decommissioning. The WCD spent two years satisfying this mandate under autonomous operation. Its report Dams and Development: A New Framework for Decision-Making is almost certainly the single most important contribution to the large dams debate. I will review some of the specific findings and recommendations of the WCD later in this chapter, however it’s most significant for its process and composition, quite possibly the most democratic of any international commission. The WCD Report reflects the consensus of a diverse group of stakeholders representing a trisectoral network of state institutions, private companies, and civil society. How did this trisectoral network form in the midst of so much controversy and political gridlock? The circumstances concerning the creation of the WCD following Gland are unusual and noteworthy. Why would the World Bank consent to an independent review of all dams, not just Bank-funded projects? Why did the dam-building industry agree to participate? And why were strong anti-dam critics given a voice in the WCD when more establishment-minded, moderate conservation groups might have satisfied the World Bank’s agenda? The Bank had staked billions of dollars on the philosophy that large dams were essential to development. They had a lot to lose if the WCD returned an

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unfavorable verdict. McCully (2001b) maintains that it was the opinion of the Bank that the OED review wouldn’t stand up to scrutiny and the Bank was losing legitimacy as a lender for dam projects. A multi-stakeholder forum to review all dams would deflect criticism away from the Bank and onto dam industry practices at large, whereas an independent review of only Bank-funded dams might cast the Bank in a bad light. Industry was willing to participate in the WCD because anti-dam activists had become very successful at clogging up the political machinery needed to move dam projects forward. The senior engineers and executives in the industry were resolute in their conviction that the benefits of dams far exceeded any of their negative impacts and they were looking for vindication and a means to grease the wheels of the commissioning process. Additionally, public funding for dams had been drying up, but private investors were turned off by dams’ massive capital requirements, cost overruns, and poor returns. The industry needed a new financing model and it was hoped that the WCD would stimulate justification for public subsidies, especially with the increasing demand for the “clean energy” of hydroelectric dams. (McCully, 2001b, pp. 1460-1463) It would be difficult to understate the contention leading up to the formation of the WCD following Gland. A reference group representing the various stakeholders was formed at Gland to determine the composition of the WCD. The process nearly fell apart several times. (McCully, 2001b, p. 1467) A key factor that kept the process moving forward was the selection of South African Water Minister Kader Asmal to head the Commission. Asmal’s background as a human rights activist and prominent antiapartheid figure gave the anti-dam coalition solace that the Commission would pursue a progressive agenda. However, Asmal had recently signed off on the controversial

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Lesotho Highlands dams project and his public criticism of the anti-dam opposition to the project appeased the dam-building community. The process of electing the commissioners who would serve under Asmal was even more contentious. The anti-dam movement struck down the first round of negotiating largely because the proposed list of commissioners had weak representation from dam-affected people’s movements. As the process appeared to be collapsing, Asmal responded to dam critics request for a second meeting to save the effort. This resulted in Medha Patkar, the leading activist in the Save the Narmada movement, and the Indian economist L.C. Jain being added to the list of commissioners. (see appendix 2.1 for a complete list of the twelve commissioners.)These were acceptable terms for the anti-dam coalition and the WCD was officially launched on February 16th, 1998.

Findings and Recommendations of the WCD The WCD released its report Dams and Development: A New Framework for Decision Making in November of 2000. It represents a consensus of the stakeholders involved, with a partially dissenting opinion by Indian activist Medha Patkar, as mentioned previously in this chapter. The Report is based on eight detailed case studies of large dams (see appendix 2.2 for a list of the case study dams), two country level reviews of India and China, a cross-check survey of 125 large dams, 17 thematic reviews on social, environmental, and economic issues; on dam alternatives; and on governance and institutional processes. There were 947 independent submissions and presentations at four regional consultations that served to inform the Commission. I have summarized the

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main findings of the WCD Report here (from WCD, 2000; Conca, 2006; McCully, 2001a): Large dams have a highly variable performance record in terms of both physical (e.g.; water supply, hydropower, etc.) and economic performance targets. Many fall short of achieving expected targets, while others have continued to perform well for decades. There is variability across the spectrum of dam types. For example, irrigation and water supply dams have typically fallen well short of targets and do not recover their costs, whereas hydropower dams perform close to, although still below, physical targets, but generally meet their financial targets on average. However, the latter is marked by a number of notable over-performers, such as Grand Coulee, and under-performers. Large dams typically have an extensive, mostly negative impact on rivers, watersheds, and aquatic ecosystems and in many cases have led to an irreversible loss of species and ecosystems. Measures to mitigate ecosystem impacts have been mostly unsuccessful due to a lack of anticipation of impacts and properly conceived implementation efforts. Large dams have led to impoverishment and suffering of millions as a result of displacement or the consequence of impacts on downstream livelihoods. There has been pervasive and systematic failure to implement adequate mitigation, resettlement and development programs for the displaced. Since the environmental and social costs have been externalized, the actual profitability of dams remains elusive. There are great inequities associated with the costs and benefits of a dam. The burden of the costs often falls on different social groups than those who reap the benefits. The poor and indigenous people are especially vulnerable in this regard.

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Based on the “core values” of equity, efficiency, participatory decision making, sustainability, and accountability in all decisions related to dams and their alternatives these findings, the WCD recommended the following principles for dams and development decisions: use of a “rights and risks” approach to identify all legitimate stakeholders for negotiating development choices and agreements; use of seven strategic priorities for water and energy resources development – gaining public acceptance, comprehensive options assessment, addressing existing dams, sustaining rivers and livelihoods, recognizing entitlements and sharing benefits, ensuring compliance, and sharing rivers for peace, development, and security; use of criteria and guidelines for good practices of the aforementioned, such as environmental flow assessments and impoverishment risk analyses. This reflects a shift from a development model that positions dams as ends in themselves towards a model of comprehensive options assessment for meeting water and energy needs. (Conca, 2006) The WCD Report was made available for free download on the Internet, translated into eleven different languages, presented at meetings in about twenty-five countries, and distributed widely. The UNEP then took up the task of disseminating the Report through its Dams and Development Program.

Legitimacy and Authority The reactions to the WCD and the implementation of its recommendations will be addressed later, but the logical questions to ask at this point concern the authority of the WCD as a rule-making organization. The power relations illustrated in the WCD formation process suggest a remarkable shift of authority in the global political space. A

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transnational environmental movement with no formal political authority was able to successfully bargain for favorable terms with actors traditionally more associated with international regimes. What is being institutionalized here? How does the WCD fit into the conventional international regime approach? And ultimately, does the WCD matter? If the state is the final arbiter of water law, and the bedrock principles of sovereignty only recognize the authority of state actors, does the WCD have any real authority in the regime sense of the word? After all, “efforts at transnational democracy seek with good reason to go around sovereignty, but always have to confront it in the end.” (C. Sneddon, personal communication, March 22, 2009) This final complication aside for the moment, the procedural processes of the WCD are significant in redefining our concept of global governance. Once assembled, the WCD operated independent of its parent institutions the World Bank and the World Conservation Union. Each of the thirteen commissioners also acted in an independent capacity, unaffiliated to their country or institution.! Public consultation and access to the Commission was uniquely transparent and participatory. (see Dingwerth, 2005; Brinkerhoff, 2002) The WCD Forum was comprised of 68 members representing a diverse set of interests. The Forum was actively engaged in consultation with the WCD Commissioners throughout its mandate. The WCD also pioneered a new funding model. 53 organizations from public, private, and civil society sectors funded the WCD process. (see appendix 2.3 for a complete list of financing sources) The funds were provided with no conditions attached. (WCD, 2000)

!

Commissioner Shen Guoyi of the Chinese Ministry of Water Resources resigned in 1999 and was not replaced. It is speculated that her resignation was due to pressure from her ministry (McCully, 2001a, pg. xxiii

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These attempts at transnational democracy were, of course, necessary for the establishment of legitimacy. Lacking any sovereign claim to authority, any world commission depends on procedurally democratic processes to establish authority. The WCD and other multi-stakeholder forums have been the subject of much scrutiny on the matter of democratic legitimacy. (see Dingwerth, 2008; Dingwerth, 2005; Nye, 2001; Reinicke, 1999) We can ask the question, “how democratic was the WCD?” but an answer will prove elusive because “we still lack a theoretical understanding of what democratic governance beyond the nation-state would entail in practice.” (Dingwerth, 2005) For instance, can and should transnational democracy mirror the international institution model of democracy? The United Nations, European Union, and other international institutions are routinely criticized for their democratic deficits and in practice many of the member states are themselves not democracies. (Nye, 2001) Instead of questioning the WCD’s legitimacy as a democratically procedural organization, perhaps a better benchmark for multi-stakeholder processes is the ability to convene diverse actors and keep them constructively engaged. (see Dubash, 2002) To the extent possible, the WCD appears to satisfy the self-proclaimed assertion that it was a democratically legitimate forum in this regard. Although distrust of the other actors, acknowledgement of biases, and concerns about catering to special interest groups all characterized the sentiments of stakeholders in the WCD forum at times (Brinkerhoff, 2002), the commitment to transparency and democratic processes ultimately resulted in consensus from a diverse group of stakeholders. Dubash (2002) points out that the WCD departed from the “eminent persons” model endemic to most global policy dialogues, because the legitimacy of the

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active practitioners “derived from their prominence in international networks of stakeholders.” (p. 44) Dingwerth (2005) acknowledges that although it falls short in some aspects of democratic representation, for instance with regards to women, it would be unfairly harsh to criticize the WCD against an unattainable ideal of global governance given the impossible task of representing all stakeholders in such a large polity. Alternatively, Ottaway (2001) characterizes the WCD as a prime example of “corporatism gone global.” The tripartite partnership, while an answer to the problem of democratic participation, is for Ottaway neither democratic nor effective. Contrary to Dubash’s and Dingwerth’s assessments, as an essentially self-appointed body, the WCD claim of representing all stakeholders falls far short of democratic legitimacy. On the issue of effectiveness, Ottaway likens the WCD to the Brandt and Brundtland Commissions, both of which aspired to a corporatist model, but their effectiveness was limited by their lack of formal authority. For Ottaway, multi-stakeholder forums like the WCD will only work within the sovereign boundaries of the state where the forum’s authority is backed by the authoritarian rule of the state. At the transnational level such attempts yield no meaningful impact because the rule-making capacity of an organization – especially one without any formal state-based institutional backing – is limited to recommendations that are easily ignored by states. But are states truly able to ignore non-binding recommendations where there is a clear consensus that emerges from an inclusive, transparent, and democratic process? Ultimately, most scholars agree that the test of the WCD’s legitimacy is connected to the state. (Dingwerth, 2005; Dubash, 2002; Ottaway, 2001) I will look at state reactions to the WCD and the institutionalization of WCD recommendations into national and

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international dialogues later in Chapter 4 to assess this point. The evidence is mixed in that there are some clear cases of acceptance and institutionalization and some clear cases of denial and dismissal. But this obscures the fact that normative changes, which may not necessarily be institutionalized at the state or interstate level, result from a variety of sources, institutionalized ones as well as non-institutionalized forces such as decentralized transnational social struggles, and that this process of “swimming upstream” is most likely to happen incrementally and over time. In fact the preponderance of examples defy categorization in this regard, but it also highlights an important aspect of public-private decision-making, namely that although inherently legally non-binding, public-private recommendations have been observed by states and may serve as a foundation to establish internationally binding rules. (see also Dingwerth, 2005, footnote 15)

A Turbulent World? Perhaps we can locate the complex struggles for authority associated with the WCD in Rosenau’s turbulence model. Rosenau (1995) depicts a bifurcated global political system in which an autonomous, multi-centric world is competing with the conventional state-centered world for authority. This authority crisis is the consequence of globalization processes that are “restructuring the foundations of legitimacy.” (p. 199) Rosenau traces this transformation to three parameters central to any “prevailing global order: the overall structures of global politics (a macro parameter), the authority structures that link macro collectivities to citizens (a macro-micro parameter), and the skills of citizens (a micro parameter).” (p. 203)

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The micro parameter is being transformed by citizens’ collective ability to force outcomes. Certainly, advances in communication technologies play an important role as a unifier, but equally important are the improved analytical skills that individuals possess. Consequently, citizens are able to better understand their place in the world and the causal relationships between different courses of international events, which has led to a change in the role that citizenries play in world politics. This isn’t to say that there has been convergence around a single set of values, or that people everywhere have experienced equal access to skill-building processes: collective demands range from democratic protests in authoritarian states to the Islamic fundamentalist movement, and there is still a large gap between the two ends of the “skill continuum.” (For our purposes, we could highlight the divergence in consensus over the role of large dams or marketization in development and the North-South “skill gap” that makes local social movements largely dependent on transnational NGOs as examples of these problems.) More importantly for Rosenau, the emerging global order rests on newly relevant micro foundations – informed, analytical individuals who can mobilize on behalf of goals they comprehend using means they approve. “Since the new global order is thus more inclusive than its predecessors, it is reasonable to presume that issues pertaining to possible compromises of the sovereignty principle have moved beyond elite circles in many societies and are now being pondered and debated more widely among their citizenries.” (Rosenau, 1995, p. 206) The macro-micro parameter that links citizens to global collectivities has also been transformed. Rosenau asserts that traditional criteria of legitimacy have been replaced with “performance” criteria, which has resulted in a crisis of authority.

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Historically, authority was based on constitutional or legal sources and people unquestionably yielded to the authority of the state. While revolutions have come and gone, traditional conceptions of sovereignty were restored post-upheaval as the basis for political order. However, Rosenau maintains that now “most dislocations of authority have not reverted back to the traditional pattern.” (p. 207) The enhanced analytical skills of citizens have, in part, forced this transformation. Citizens no longer will comply and cooperate with government performance that does not satisfy their needs, move toward goals, or provide stability. While states may still maintain public order through coercive force, they have become less effective at solving substantive problems and implementing policies as their authority has been eroded. This relocation of authority has played out in states across the globe, from the dismantling of the former Soviet Union to the populist movements of Latin America. Even in states where the shift to performance criteria has not resulted in a relocation of authority – such as the United States – “governments have proven incapable of bridging societal divisions sufficiently to undertake the decisive actions necessary to address and resolve intractable problems.” (Rosenau, 1995, p. 208) This relocation of authority from the national level is a multi-scalar process: downward to subnational groups, such as local governments, trade unions, and religious and ethnic groupings perceived as being more receptive to citizen’s concerns and better able to meet their performance needs; and upward to supranational authorities like the European Union and transnational organizations and social movements. “These multiple directions in which authority is being relocated serve to reinforce the tensions between the centralizing and decentralizing dynamics that underlie the turbulence presently at

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work in world politics.” (Rosenau, 1995, pp. 208-209) Consequently, the principle that states have the right to refuse compliance with external authorities or to operate autonomously of internal authorities is being undermined. Today, instead of the anarchic, state-centric world that has dominated the overall structure of global politics for more than three centuries, global politics is bifurcated at the macro parameter to include a multi-centric world of transnational corporations, professional groups, social movements and NGOs, among other non-state or so-called “sovereignty-free” actors. These “compete, conflict, cooperate, or otherwise interact with the sovereignty-bound actors of the state-centric world.” (Rosenau, 1995, p. 210) This isn’t to suggest that states are no longer key actors; rather, they are no longer the only key actors. Similarly, states continue to maintain large bureaucracies and transnational actors continue to adhere to the rules and procedures of national bureaucracies, but this says nothing of sovereignty’s continued effectiveness as an organizing principle. Instead, Rosenau maintains that this is simply the “lag time” whereby the structure and rhetoric of national politics remains in place despite a systemic transformation, similar to the historic subsistence of bureaucracies that survive long past being rendered obsolete. If the previous condition of the global political order was characterized by a “convenience-of-the-states” paradigm of cooperation rooted in traditional understandings of sovereignty, we have entered a period where there has been a shift toward the other end of the sovereignty continuum that has a “states-are-obliged-to-go-along” paradigm at its extreme. A full crossover to this extreme end, which would essentially connote the denouement of sovereignty, seems unlikely for numerous cultural, economic, and political reasons. (see for instance Sassen, 2007; Rosenau, 1995, Friedman, 1999)

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Instead, what we are likely to see is a global political system marked by ongoing turbulence, because no global structures capable of accommodating both the state-centric world and the multi-centric world appears attainable. “The most powerful forces underlying the emergence of a new global order are all conducive to persistent, long-term tensions between the need for more centralized international institutions and the equally compelling need to develop more decentralized domestic institutions.” (Rosenau, 1995, 227)

Conclusion In the end, the large dams debate goes far beyond the benefits and costs of dams; it raises critical questions about sovereignty, transnational democracy, and global environmental governance. Historically, the decision to build a dam has been as much about political factors as social or economic factors. Multi-scalar power struggles are occurring within the highly politicized debate over dams and this has thrust the issue into transnational focus. The WCD was an effort to diffuse the debate to the benefit of all stakeholders. The WCD is significant to this discussion of global environmental governance for three principle reasons: first, it is the most comprehensive review of large dams ever, which in and of itself is an important basis for legitimacy, but more significantly its findings were the consensus of a diverse group of stakeholders from both sides of the debate; second, the formation of the WCD demonstrates the enhanced bargaining power of non-state actors, particularly NGOs, to dictate the terms of rulemaking processes beyond the state; and third, procedurally it serves as a model for what

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transnational rule-making, a concept that defies traditional notions of sovereignty and legitimacy, might look like. As we struggle to understand the authority of the WCD, and indeed other multistakeholder platforms for transnational cooperation, does Rosenau’s turbulence model present an explanation? At the micro parameter, the improved “analytical” skills of individuals were essential in challenging the development effectiveness of large dams by exposing their ecological and social consequences. The emergence of the transnational anti-dam movement is the result of not only this enhanced socio-ecological view of dams, but also the fact that individuals felt enabled to mobilize and pursue a goal distinct from the national agenda. If the creation of the WCD was the culmination of the anti-dam movement’s global authority, we can view this as possible evidence that the global order rests on micro foundations and is no longer strictly the purview of elite circles. As a micro-macro link between citizen collectivities and global structures, the WCD is perfect example of the relocation of authority away from the state. Although this does not begin to address the question of legitimacy, the simple existence of the WCD fits Rosenau’s bifurcated, turbulent world. The WCD is particularly interesting because it bridges the state-centric and multi-centric distinctions and draws authority from micro, micro-macro, and macro foundations. While it is virtually impossible to envision an entire global governance structure that mirrors the WCD multi-stakeholder process, we have to question whether this is a possible answer to Rosenau’s turbulence. In the next chapter, I will look at the institutional framework for sustainable water management and locate the WCD amid the multi-scalar, complex, and often interconnected forces that shape policy decisions. Although the WCD was vested with no implicit authority, its capacity to

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influence institutional change – along with other non-state actors – suggests that global environmental governance is undergoing a transformation from a state-centric system to a multi-centric one.

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CHAPTER 3 Institutional Change and Global Environmental Governance This book is about discourse analysis, not nuclear physics, but now having done both, I have found the latter to be considerably more straight-forward. Nuclear physics mostly involves keeping track of things that, not withstanding the new quantum mechanics, are more or less there; discourse analysis is more akin to trying to find Schroedinger’s Cat: even if you can put your finger on it, you are not at all sure that it is there. Yet, if we are trying to tease out and understand changes in collective human behavior and beliefs that are, in some sense, material while, at the same time, not measurable, we are caught in the same sort of dilemma. Much of politics has this character, especially at the global level. The conventional realist wisdom about anarchy and power – phenomena that can be tracked – leaves out much that is difficult to specify or analyze. Efforts to investigate these latter phenomena fall victim to uncertainty and intersubjectivity. – Ronnie Lipschutz, Global Civil Society and Global Environmental Governance

Ecological systems are simultaneously critical pieces of local and global ecosystems, important sources of community livelihoods of cultural significance, and the source of marketable commodities typically referred to as natural resources. In other words, ecological systems simultaneously serve environmental, social, and economic functions. The concept of sustainable development attempts to harmonize all three. However, as a mounting body of evidence clearly demonstrates, “the global response to the cumulative ecological toll on these local systems has been woefully inadequate.” (Conca, 2006, p. 6) Conca (2006) asserts that a major reason for the failed global response to environmental degradation is that it has largely insisted on negotiated international agreements among sovereign states as a single institutional form. This institutional “regime” approach relies on multilateral bargaining, the gradual construction of an agreed upon framework to address a problem, and then an international secretariat to encourage

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implementation and compliance of the framework. Ken Conca’s 2006 book Governing Water: Contentious Transnational Politics and Global Institution Building has led the way in this area of scholarship by examining the political struggles that are creating the global framework for governing water. Regimes have been developed for transboundary issues, which more readily fit into the state system model of international politics, as well “global commons” problems such as climate change and the depletion of the ozone layer. However, the regime approach has made little headway in part because so-called “binding” agreements such as treaties and their provisions are typically not mandatory and may include soft language such as ‘may’ instead of ‘shall’ or stipulate that environmental factors are “taken into consideration” without any documentation or justification for their decisions. (Hunt, 2004, p. 261) Still, Conca maintains that behind the familiar international environmental regime are emerging institutions in the water sector that have found ways of “incorporating more pluralistic understandings of authority, more flexible conceptions of territorial sovereignty, and more heterogeneous ways of knowing about problems and solutions.” (Conca, 2006, p. 7) Alongside the once dominant regime approach to the governance of water, social movement activism commonly found in opposition to large dams or privatization schemes, the neoliberal marketization of water, and water expert networking processes have created a distinct set of “protonorms.” They have “become sufficiently recognizable and well established to become available for application to watershed governance in basins and watersheds that lie beyond their direct reach.” (Conca, 2006, p. 30) Together, these constitute an imagined path towards transnational governance of the environment.

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Rather than viewing regimes as a top-down process of applying negotiated frameworks to individual river basins, Conca suggests that regimes can also be part of a bottom-up process of norm diffusion and normative convergence, what he refers to as “swimming upstream.” He states that strong “evidence of bottom-up regime building would be convergence in the content of those basin-level agreements” which would suggest the same norms being embedded across different basins. (Conca, 2006, p. 95) The extent to which any of these institution-building processes are reaching upstream to shape watershed governance is a central question for Conca, and for this thesis. In this chapter, I look for normative convergence first in the regime literature, before bringing in evidence from outside the regime framework. This includes the ability of transnational networks of water experts to advance a new paradigm of watershed governance known as Integrated Water Resource Management (IWRM); neoliberal solutions, namely privatization and marketization, to governance’s shortcomings; and a variety of ways that social and environmental movements and NGOs influence policy. All of these transnational aspects tap into nodes of institutional change at multiple levels of governance.

International Water Law and Basin Specific Agreements I start this discussion with an overview of the formal institutional framework regarding international river basins. For over three centuries, the world’s places have been mostly understood as falling under the sovereign authority of territorially defined states. Where a resource, place, or problem is territorially overlapping, there are international agreements. We can look to these agreements to see how norms have

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changed over time. There are 263 international rivers and 145 states with territory in one or more international river basins. (Conca, 2006, p. 94) Specific rivers have been the sites of bilateral or multilateral international cooperation for centuries. Conca (2006) asserts that at least some of the hundreds of accords meet the definition of an international regime in that they establish the “rules of the game:” Beyond constituting individual regimes for specific basins, it could be that these agreements are effectively building a global rivers regime from the ground up. If it is increasingly ‘normal’ for states to adopt agreements for shared river basins, and if the content of those agreements is converging on a shared set of governance principles, then that could be interpreted as an emerging global regime, albeit not one organized around a framework of a centralized, explicitly codified accord.” (p. 103) So, has there been convergence on the principles for governing shared rivers that would suggest regime formation? In a study of 62 international river agreements between 1980 and 2000, Conca et al. (2006) concluded that there is only weak evidence of regime formation if joint articulation of common principles is the benchmark. However, certain normative developments lie outside the regime lens. In particular, they found convergence on two different normative frameworks – one that stressed river protection in shared basins and the other that revealed a “backlash reinforcing sovereign rights.” (Conca et al, 2006, p. 1) Despite the prospect of “water wars” as a consequence of increased water scarcity due to overpopulation and environmental change (see Ward, 2002; Gleick, 1993; Starr, 1991) it was also determined that the rate at which basinspecific accords are reached is not increasing. In fact, by and large the only place where new agreements are being reached is in basins with a history of international cooperation. This suggests that not only has the regime framework been unsuccessful at addressing the full scope of water related problems, but that it’s becoming less popular as a framework for international cooperation. We might question whether the latter is because consensus-

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building and decision-making has shifted to another venue, say to multi-stakeholder platforms like the WCD, a supranational authority such as the UN, or another transnational decision-making authority; or if negotiation has simply ground to a halt. Recall from Chapter 1 that transnational networks of actors increasingly influence global public policy decisions, so the former is likely at least part of the explanation. Of more relevance here is the normative convergence around the need for river protection in shared basins and the reinforcement of sovereign rights. This has been echoed elsewhere in the water resources management discourse. In addition to basin specific agreements, there has been a long-standing effort to create an international legal framework for shared river basins through the International Law Commission of the United Nations. Decades of negotiations led to the UN Convention on the Law of the Non-Navigational Uses of International Watercourses adopted by the UN General Assembly in 1997. However, the agreement has yet to be ratified by enough countries to make it international law and it may never enter into force. Furthermore, its “ambiguous language and loopholes” limit its effectiveness, although it has been helpful in “defining a set of internationally shared values such as equitable use and information sharing.” (Hunt, 2004, p. 270) Finally, points of entry for non-state actors is quite narrow. “Other than ‘watercourse states,’ only ‘regional economic integration’ organizations ‘constituted by sovereign States’ are recognized as having standing to enter into an international watercourse agreement” under Article 3 of the law. (Conca, 2006, p. 99) Also problematic is the fact that rivers are reduced to “watercourses,” which ignores critical links between water, land use, and regional development; and rivers are divided into either “domestic” or “transboundary”

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watercourses, which narrowly circumscribes a concept of environmental protection that limits vaguely defined “significant harm” to downstream states. (see Conca, 2006, p. 121) What does this say about the prospects for international regime building around principles of sustainable development? Some normative convergence has emerged from the legal-diplomatic sphere, but in the end these norms are much more concerned with principles of interstate bargaining than protecting freshwater ecosystems. (see Conca, 2006; Sneddon and Fox, 2007) There has been convergence around such principles of “equitable use” and “no harm” in shared basins, but significantly, this normative framework only applies to transboundary rivers and cedes domestic authority to the state. We are left with a gaping hole in the global governance of the world’s rivers. The inability of the UN – the preeminent institution of global governance – to broker a multilateral agreement concerning the sustainable use of international rivers speaks to the ineffectiveness of the system. Furthermore, there is no compelling evidence that international legal principles are converging around a common narrative structure in the form of interstate cooperation over shared river basins. (Conca, 2006) At the level of “high politics” we might expect to see norms emerging that emphasize sustainable development as our collective understanding of the socioecological consequences of watershed manipulation become more and more clear, but the record of state action indicates otherwise: “left to their own devices or aided by foreign donors, most governments have repeatedly proved themselves to be eager dammers, diverters, and drainers, with little regard for the ecological, social, or even economic costs of those schemes.” (Conca, 2006, p. 121)

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Expert Networks and Integrated Water Resources Management Although the few norms that have emerged from international water law fit neatly in the international regime framework, the reality is that rivers are part of much larger and more complex socioecological systems. Rivers are part of transboundary water disputes, but they are also part of critical, life-sustaining ecosystems with local, regional, and global dimensions. A broader view of water resources management does not segment rivers into “transboundary” and “domestic” categories. Rivers may be understood politically as autonomous units either wholly within a state’s sovereign authority or as flowing through two or more contiguous states and therefore subject to multilateral bargaining, but simple political designations cannot account for the high degree of complexity around water uses and users. For the moment, let’s set aside the fact that rivers are the arteries of the global hydrological cycle and the manipulation of a “domestic” watershed risks global consequence. (Hunt, 2004) More immediately relevant is the understanding that watersheds are integral aspects of local and regional ecosystems with important social, economic, and ecological functions, yet the way rivers have been managed, until recently, has neglected to account for the diversity of uses and users. However, transnational networks of water experts – researchers, policy-makers, and academics – have been effective in creating a new paradigm known as Integrated Water Resources Management (IWRM). IWRM is significant for our discussion of the WCD because they both emphasize stakeholder participation and sustainable development, which prioritizes harmonization of social, economic, and environmental needs. The Global Water Partnership defines IWRM as “a process which promotes the coordinated development and management of water, land and related resources, in order

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to maximize the resultant economic and social welfare in an equitable manner without compromising the sustainability of vital ecosystems." (GWP, 2009) The core guiding principle of IWRM is integration both within and between the natural system, which determines the availability and quality of water, and the human system, which determines the use of water. This requires a holistic institutional approach at all levels of governance from national ministries down to community-based organizations, involvement of all stakeholders in the planning and decision process, and cross-sectoral integration into policy decisions, including international trade regimes, national security issues, and food, energy, industrial, and economic development policies. (Jonch-Clausen and Fugl, 2001) The idea of integrated basin-level management goes back at least to the TVA, although Spain was probably the first country to implement the concept with a system of confedoraciones hidrograficas in 1926. (Rahaman and Varis, 2005) Over the past few decades, IWRM has become the dominant language used to frame the problems of global water governance. Conca (2006) explains how transnational networks of water experts pushed IWRM into the mainstream to challenge international regimes as the only means of institution building: Expert networks have often been an important lubricant for international environmental cooperation. They move information, frame problems and responses, and pressure governments in ways that can promote the creation of institutions for supranational environmental governance, including but not limited to treaty-based interstate regimes.” (p. 125) An exhaustive chronology of the international water networking events that led to IWRM would include hundreds of conferences, summits, and programs on water and the environment. Some of the highlights are offered here.

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Conca traces the development back to the 1972 UN Conference on the Human Environment in Stockholm, which included a number of issues related to water pollution on the docket. Hunt (2004) goes back a little further to the 1971 Ramsar Convention, officially the Convention on Wetlands of International Importance, because it enhanced international understanding of the importance of conserving aquatic ecosystems and provides incentives to protect and restore ecosystems and use them in a sustainable manner. Regardless, the first comprehensive attempt to examine water problems came in 1977 with the UN Water Conference in Mar del Plata, Argentina. Although Mar del Plata reinforced principles of sovereignty and a regime approach to water governance, it is notable for establishing access to drinking water as a basic human right. This right was later reinforced at the 1992 Earth Summit in Rio de Janeiro (the UN Conference on Environment and Development) and expanded to include water is an ecological right (i.e.; nature’s water requirement for the sustainability of ecosystems) in the Summit’s Agenda 21 action plan for sustainable development. However, Agenda 21 remained silent on the most contentious water issues – large dams, irrigation schemes, and other destructive projects, as well as privatization and water pricing initiatives. Several other important conferences occurred between Mar del Plata and Rio including the 1992 International Conference on Water and the Environment in Dublin, Dublin was a “seminal frame-shifting event” (Conca, 2006, p. 140) because it addressed the complexity of water issues comprehensively and identified multiple goals, including alleviation of poverty, conservation and reuse, protecting ecosystems, and resolving conflicts. Although Dublin challenged state sovereignty by advocating a participatory

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approach to water management, it simultaneously reinforced the authority of states in arbitrating international agreements on transboundary issues. During the time period between Mar del Plata and Rio, the formal institutional framework was fragmented, which in part allowed IWRM to emerge as part of “a broader, less state-based discursive process” to fill the vacant space. (Conca, 2006, p.138) There has never been a dominant water entity in the UN institutional apparatus with over twenty UN-related agencies claiming a freshwater mandate. Although numerous international accords on specific global water problems were signed during the 1970s and 1980s, there is still no comprehensive framework convention on water. This left space for expert networks to develop strong transnational links and shape the dialogue outside of the regime framework. Annual meetings such as the World Water Forum, the International Water Resources Association’s World Water Congress, and the Stockholm Water Symposium became the venue for this dialogue. By the late 1990s, the language of IWRM had come to dominate the expert networks and crossed into the regime space as exemplified by the UN Commission on Sustainable Development, which is a national level forum for the implementation of Agenda 21 principles. The use of multi-stakeholder dialogues in the Commission draws on the idea of participation in IWRM. (Conca, 2006, p. 206) Additionally, a report from the Commission in 1997 stated “the importance of putting into practice the concept of a holistic management of freshwater…and the integration of sectoral water plans and programs within the framework of national economic and social policy.” Another report from 1998 stated: “Integrated water resources management within a national economic framework is essential for achieving efficient and equitable allocation of water resources and thus for promoting sustainable

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development.” (as quoted in Conca, 2006, p. 148) However, IWRM has remained mostly diffuse and decentralized. The World Water Council and the Global Water Partnership were efforts to put an organizational face to IWRM. According to the World Water Council, the stated objective in creating these organizations appealed to the need for a “common umbrella to unite the disparate, fragmented, and ineffectual efforts on global water management.” (World Water Council, 2009) The WWC is primarily comprised of industry groups, government agencies, and private firms. Its overriding objective has been to advance the notion – well understood by water professionals, but unrecognized by politicians and the general public – that we are on the verge of a global water crisis. The statement of this impending problem and the proposed solutions were captured in the WWC’s 2000 World Water Vision. The Global Water Partnership accompanied the Vision with a set of action steps and benchmarks called Towards Water Security: A Framework for Action. The Global Water Partnership – a product of a joint initiative between the World Bank, the UNDP, and the Swedish International Development Agency – is similarly dedicated to IWRM principles. The GWP consists of a Stockholm-based secretariat and steering committee of water professionals from national bureaucracies, intergovernmental organizations, and NGOs. Although the two organizations were both founded in 1996 from similar roots, in theory, they are dedicated to different missions. The WWC is more of a think tank focused on policy whereas the GWP works on implementation at the grassroots level. (Conca, 2006, p. 151) IWRM principles are pervasive in both the World Water Vision and the GWP’s Framework.

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IWRM has been successful in shifting the debate away from the regime approach and in delegitimizing some of the most ecologically deleterious norms in water management. It has been influential in shaping the broad outlines of a new normative framework for the global governance of water. However, it has fallen short on contentious social issues such as dams and the economic value of water. Furthermore, there is a lurking tension in IWRM over the privatization of water, illustrated, for example, by the difference between the Food and Agriculture Organization of the UN (FAO) position, which advocates government control, and the market-oriented position of the World Bank. (Conca, 2006) At its most fundamental level, IWRM is concerned with the political process of allocating a finite resource among competing uses and users, similar to the WCD recommendations. Implementation of IWRM principles amidst heterogeneous circumstances remains its biggest challenge, also similar to the WCD. In the end, water policy is just one factor tied up in whole host of development concerns ranging from the economic to the social to the ecological. Comparatively, the integration of water policy into these larger frameworks has been loose next to more tightly regulated industries such as energy and agriculture. However, certain values have emerged, such as the idea of water as a human right, from Mar del Plata, and the idea of water for nature, from Rio, and these are gaining traction in institutional settings. But the most important influence of IWRM has been the idea of an integrated framework where everything is connected to everything else and everyone is a stakeholder. This undermines “the notion that international water politics and policy could fit comfortably into an intersovereign, regimelike framework for discussion and action.” (Conca, 2006, p. 161)

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Like the WCD, IWRM has pushed this concept into the institutional framework. The 2001 International Conference on Freshwater in Bonn, Germany was the first time a multi-stakeholder platform came together to discuss controversial issues such as privatization and the role of the state and international financial institutions. Recognizing the gap between policy development and practice, Bonn set forth a series of action steps to bridge development principles with IWRM. These included strengthening public funding capabilities, improving economic efficiency, increasing official assistance to developing countries, and sharing research and technology. At the conference, which convened one month after the release of the WCD’s Dams and Development, participating activist groups “pushed for adoption of the WCD recommendations as a central theme, along with the idea of water as a human right and a common, nontradable good.” (Conca, 2006, p. 206) In fact, the WCD has been identified as a fundamental step towards IWRM because of its emphasis on stakeholder participation (Scodanibbio and Manez, 2005) However, establishing principles of stakeholder participation has inherent problems as well, as discussed in Chapter 2 with regards to the WCD’s claims of legitimacy. Indeed, in much of the global water industry attempts at establishing a “global consensus” on water reform carry assertions of neutrality and inclusiveness although the self-appointed “leaders of a global water community” may represent a much more narrow interest. Three of the highest profile transnational policy networks, the Global Water Partnership, the World Water Council, and the World Commission on Water for the 21st Century, are supported by the World Bank and industry interests. (Goldman, 2007) The World Water Vision includes some generalizations about the need

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to include all stakeholders, but Hunt (2004) maintains that the Vision illustrates a key defect inherent in non-binding dialogues: namely, coalitions of special interests, mostly industry, influenced the Vision for their own purposes while passing it off as a consensus among all stakeholders. Even the most prominent water NGO, WaterAid, has strong World Bank and corporate ties. Not insignificantly, all of the aforementioned organizations strongly endorse privatization solutions to water problems. (Goldman, 2007) Given the polarization of stakeholders on that issue, such claims of inclusiveness are simply not bona fide. I now turn to the privatization and marketization debate to draw out the influence of neoliberalism on water governance norms.

The Privatization and Marketization of Water Marketization of water has been increasingly advocated as a solution to the world’s water problems. Following the neoliberal agenda, the market will succeed where inefficient bureaucracies have failed. The underlying principle behind marketization is that if water is priced as a scarce economic good and treated as a commodity, market forces will allocate water to its highest value uses. Marketization opens the way for the full-pricing of water – which in theory reduces inefficiency and waste while improving delivery and quality – and the privatization of water and water services. This view has been embraced by international financial institutions, including the World Bank which has tripled the amount of funding for privatization schemes in poor countries in recent years (Barlow and Clarke, 2005, p. v), and, logically, transnational corporations, much to the chagrin of water-for-development NGOs and peoples’ movements in developing countries that have been the unfortunate recipients of failed marketization schemes. In

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many ways, the controversy over marketization and privatization has supplanted the controversy over large dams as the central battleground in the water sector between transnational capitalism and the transnational social/environmental movement. Environmentally, there are clear concerns over marketization and privatization, such as the economic viability of bulk water exports from water flush regions to water scarce regions, which has the potential to severely disrupt ecosystems, and because a profitdriven corporation has little incentive to encourage conservation when increased consumption equals increased profit. Socially, the simple fact that marketization adopts a view of water as a human need instead of a human right and establishes property rights around water is unequivocally irreconcilable to the anti-privatization movement. A large part of the anti-privatization rationale draws on the moral argument against “privatization as a facet of global corporate capitalism, with particular stress laid on the fact that the water industry is dominated by only a few transnational corporations, aided by World Bank” and IMF loan provisions requiring privatization. (Dilworth, 2007, p. 49) In fact, the anti-capitalism argument has been aided by a string of privatization failures, in both developed and developing countries, where prices have gone up and service and quality has in many cases gone down. In at least a few instances, this has led to civil unrest and even violence, as was the case in Cochabamba, Bolivia when a subsidiary of the US corporation Bechtel raised rates to levels that were no longer affordable by the local population, which prompted rioting and the eventual dissolution of Bechtel’s contract. The Bolivian government is now in a quandary trying to resolve the situation – Bechtel has filed a lawsuit seeking to recoup their losses and Bolivia, the poorest country in South America, is under huge pressure from international financial

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institutions to settle or risk jeopardizing future capital inflows with a lowered credit rating. (Finnegan, 2002) Not all privatization schemes have been failures. The privatization of Buenos Aires’ water delivery and sewage treatment services is often cited as an example of privatization improving efficiency and reducing the cost of water in the developing world. (see Gleick, 2004) However, Barlow and Clarke (2005) point out that the profit margins reaped by Aguas Argentina – a consortium including the world’s two largest water corporations, Vivendi and Suez – were two to three times that of water enterprises in the U.K., considered models of privatization. Barlow and Clarke underscore the moral critique of even a successful privatization scheme, such as Buenos Aires: “No matter how responsibly a transnational carries out its business, such commercial enterprises are simply not designed, first and foremost, to serve the public interest. Nor are they organized as sustainable enterprises to conserve resources. Since maximizing profits often means encouraging increased consumption, private water delivery enterprises will not work to reduce consumption.” (p. 104) In the opinion of the anti-privatization movement, capitalism is simply not compatible with a social good such as water. Instead, advocates turn to national and international law to guarantee basic water requirements for all individuals and ecosystems and to police and tax water abusers. The effectiveness of this approach depends largely on building a transnational institutional framework that will discredit the Washington Consensus mandate by challenging the IMF, World Bank, and global water corporations with measures like a “Water Commons Treaty Initiative,” a “Global Water Convention,” “National Water Protection Acts,” local water governance councils, and support for the anti-dam movement. (see Barlow and Clarke, 2005, pp. 239-250; Petrella, 2001) But advocates of privatization dismiss such political aspirations as unrealistic policy

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solutions. (Dilworth, 2007, p. 49) The inability of global institutions to successfully address other environmental and social problems means that at least for the time being controversial market solutions will be on the table. In response to this controversy, Gleick and the Pacific Institute (2005) outlined principles to guide privatization efforts. First, water should be managed as a social good. This is consistent with the principle of water as a basic human right first established at Mar del Plata. Under this principle residents in a privatized service area should be guaranteed basic water quantities. Similarly, natural ecosystems should also be guaranteed a basic water requirement as part of the social good provision. Principle two states that these social aspects need to be balanced with sound economics so that water is both affordable to consumers while allowing water utilities to maintain a healthy financial situation that will enable them to expand coverage and improve quality. Water services should not be free, but rates should be fair and subsidies used when instances such as extreme poverty necessitate. Rate increases should be linked to improvements in service and designed with the participation of consumers. Demand management should be given priority. Companies should be required to demonstrate that a new water supply project would be less expensive than conservation and efficiency projects before rates can be raised to pay for the investment. Principle three states that strong government regulation and public oversight is necessary for privatized water supply projects and the public should retain or establish ownership of the water sources. Governments should establish and enforce explicit performance criteria and standards with clear dispute resolution and contract review procedures. Finally, decision-making in the water sector,

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including negotiations over privatization contracts, should be open, transparent, and include all affected stakeholders. The role of private industry and international finance in dam building is significant, which makes the debate over privatization and marketization highly relevant to the WCD legacy. The WCD process presents a means for improved stakeholder participation in development decisions. Institutionalization of the norms of watershed democracy in the wake of the WCD could be seriously undermined if this isn’t echoed in the privatization debate. Realistically, the prospect for civil society actors to participate in water development decisions will become narrower as financing moves from a public to a private model. At least the former is based theoretically on principles of representative democracy in many states. Private capital, however, will not be as amenable to civil society participation unless the values of watershed democracy are effectively circumscribed in the decision-making and regulatory framework. Even more significant to the legacy of the WCD is the fact that neoliberalism presents a theoretical solution to the problems of governance. The friction between promarket solutions and pro-government solutions is normatively powerful. Recall that the driving force behind the creation of the WCD was the anti-dam movement, which in many ways is a microcosm of the larger anti-globalization movement against free-market capitalism and the institutions of Northern economic and political power. Furthermore, the WCD core values of equity, efficiency, participatory decision-making, sustainability, and accountability may come into conflict with the most “liberal” interpretations of water commoditization. However, Gleick’s privatization guidelines present greater harmony

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between the objectives of development as espoused in the WCD and the role of private industry and market principles as means for achieving development goals. Perhaps most significant for our understanding of the influence of privatization on institution building processes is actually the anti-privatization movement. Just as the antidam movement has challenged the broader logic of the development paradigm that supports large water infrastructure projects, the anti-privatization movement taps into a similar logic. They are in essence two sides of the same coin. And while the anti-dam movement has mostly endorsed the recommendations of the WCD, activists “routinely point to its failure to question the larger development model (a theme that provided the basis for the lone dissenting opinion in the final WCD report, by Indian activist Medha Patkar).” (Conca, 2006, p. 251) So, if we can make the conclusion that the anti-dam movement won an important battle with the WCD, the anti-privatization movement is engaged in a similar fight in the same war. Water and dams may be the context of these fights, but they are a part of a much larger movement against a development paradigm, and indeed an entire global socioeconomic system, often labeled the anti-globalization movement. I now examine the influence this movement has had on the institutions of global environmental governance.

Social Movements and Transnational NGOs In the water sector, social movements are intertwined with the anti-dam movement, which is the transnationalized face of the ecological and social problems surrounding freshwater manipulation. All of the thousands of peoples’ movements and environmental battles occurring in disparate corners of the world are unified in a fight

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against the institutionalized norms of water resources management, of which large dams are the single most important infrastructural facet. This fight also taps into channels of discontent against the system of global capitalism and the undelivered promise of global institutions. (see Stiglitz, 2003) Although often criticized as such, the anti-dam movement does not stake out a position that is fundamentally anti-development. Rather, the central complaint of the movement, as perhaps best exemplified by Indian novelist and activist Arundhati Roy’s The Cost of Living, concerns the lack of democratic participation in development decisions. (see Roy, 1999) The great success of the anti-dam movement has been to penetrate a governance void concerning issues of equity and ecology related to dams. Writing about the recent ability of the environmental movement to affect global change though “social power,” Lipschutz (2004) stated that this power is partially a “response to the failure of political authorities to address specific environmental problems and the absence of institutionalized political methods to influence policymakers and corporations in ways that can solve problems.” (p. 27) This influence takes place at multiple scales of governance and often through complex micro-macro linkages: “Quests for local power require global strategies and connections, likewise transnational social movements must have local social roots.” (Evans, 2005, p. 7) So, although campaigns may be coordinated transnationally, they are fragmented. Transnational movements are simultaneously local, grassroots efforts operating outside the traditional institutional framework using unconventional tactics, but they also operate through conventional, institutionalized channels. This positions transnational advocacy networks both inside and outside the action. The formation of the WCD is an excellent example of this. The

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transnational anti-dam movement – interlinked local campaigns with a common global cause – came to represent both independent social and ecological struggles as well as a unified voice at the table with established organizations that fit neatly in the institutional structure. Conca (2006) reminds us that one way to understand the success of the anti-dam movement is through social movement theory. The anti-dam movement took advantage of opportunity structures such as a weakened world bank and enhanced political participation in dam-building countries like Brazil and South Africa to gain a greater voice in the debate. The movement mobilized using newly available communication resources such as the Internet. Much of the success of the movement is attributed to a framing processes that blended ecological issues with human rights and development, so the movement’s agenda couldn’t be dismissed as one-sided. (Conca, 2006, p. 190) Another pertinent example is the tactic referred to by Keck and Sikkink as the “boomerang effect,” (mentioned in Chapter 2) which reveals ways that governments and international organizations can be influenced by seemingly powerless movements through transnational coordination. The WCD can be understood in a similar context. We’ve seen, as discussed in Chapter 2, that the anti-dam movement was the single most important factor in the creation of the WCD. The WCD effectively gave a voice to the anti-dam movement at the policy table. While the channels to institutionalization of the WCD values remain narrow, “the dams arena illustrates the growing ability of transnational civil society networks to contribute to global public policy agendas.” (Dubash, 2002, p. 44) The paths to institutionalization are discussed in the next chapter.

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Conclusion In the water sector, there are four overlapping institutionalizing forces shaping global environmental governance: international environmental regimes, transnational networks of water experts, social movements and transnational environmental NGOs, and marketization and privatization, which has allowed greater involvement of transnational corporations. The state-centered regime approach has dominated the discourse, but the fragmented global governance framework and inability of regimes to adequately address water problems – both global and local – has led to the penetration of regimes by nonstate actors who have been aided by the communication revolution and enhanced understanding and acceptance of the complex socioecological issues concerning water. The anti-dam movement was instrumental in creating a new paradigm concerning the building of large dams, water experts have pushed IWRM into the normative framework, and the commoditization of water is increasingly gaining acceptance as a means to address water scarcity issues. While these are all examples of “swimming upstream,” the actors doing the swimming are doing so using vastly different motives and tactics. For instance, the interests of the anti-dam movement are highly dissimilar to the interest of neoliberals. We also have to question how commensurable these processes are, a question that will be answered in the following chapters. Normalization convergence on some issues is happening, but others – particularly the role of large dams and the commoditization of water – remain contentious. Social movements and transnational NGOs are ushering in a new era of democratic participation in environmental governance. One of the finest examples of this is the WCD. Still, while environmental debates have been expanded to include transnational actors, the state remains the enforcer

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of environmental law. This has clear ramifications for the future of global environmental governance.

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CHAPTER 4 Institutionalizing the WCD If politics is the art of the possible, this document is a work of art. It redefines what is possible to all of us, for all of us, at a time when water pressure on governments has never been more intense. !

Kader Asmal, Chair, World Commission on Dams

The focus of this chapter is on the implementation and institutionalization of the WCD recommendations. This is necessarily an ambiguous task. We might ask how effective the WCD process has been at institutionalizing behavioral norms and coercing states into compliant behavior. But how can we isolate the impact of the WCD from the myriad of other institutionalizing forces previously discussed? In this regard, Conca (2006) maintains “it makes sense to view the WCD not as an institution in its own right but rather as part of a broader process of institutionalization of norms of watershed democracy.” (p. 201) Although the WCD rendered judgment on the development effectiveness of dams – and those findings are certainly a valuable, substantive reference point for discussions about dams – the more significant impact has been its procedural legacy. Partially as a consequence of the need to simplify this analysis, but primarily in response to the direction my research has taken me, I will be looking at this latter issue of procedure while leaving the massive task of analyzing the institutionalization of the substantive elements of the WCD findings for another project. Of the WCD “core values,” stakeholder participation was identified by the UNEP as having “a special and cross-cutting role in processes concerning the dams and their alternatives, including in all nine priority key issues dealt with by the Compendium.” (UNEP, 2007a, pg. 33) This is

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the most logical area to focus on as a node of institutionalization because it is relatively easy to measure as a principle, as compared to say “compliance” or “options assessment,” which are much more subjective; and it is at the core of the controversy that connects the anti-dam movement to the broader elements of the “anti-globalization” movement, namely, the need for a new development paradigm that is more inclusive, transparent, and accountable. During the final meeting of the WCD forum, the commissioners asserted the need for a neutral organization to take up the task of disseminating the Report’s findings to governments, the water industry, civil society, and local communities. The United Nations Environmental Program responded to this request and formed the Dams and Development Program, which has attempted to do so through a series of forums, meetings, and publications, the last of which occurred in 2006. South Africa became the first state to officially acknowledge the WCD Report as a legitimate source of damrelated information and set up a multi-stakeholder initiative to discuss its implementation there. Both the South African initiative and the UNEP Dams and Development Program provide key insights into the challenges to the WCD’s legacy as a pioneering effort to improve stakeholder participation in watershed governance. Finally, I turn to the case of the Jondachi project in Ecuador, which demonstrates the challenges ahead for the WCD. First, an overview of the reactions to the WCD Report is presented.

Reactions to the WCD Reactions to the WCD Report Dams and Development: A New Framework for Decision Making have ranged from full support to cautious acceptance to outright

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condemnation. They are summarized here (from Conca, 2006; Gleick, 2002; Dubash, 2001): Dam critics generally had more favorable views of the WCD than dam proponents. Activist groups, although dissatisfied with some elements of the Report which they felt was too generous in stating the benefits of dams, pressed for the adoption of the WCD recommendations by industry and intergovernmental organizations that would make the WCD process binding. The International Rivers Network and the Berne Declaration, with support from a coalition of 135 NGOs and movements from around the World, called on the World Bank and other organizations to implement the WCD recommendations, establish multi-stakeholder reviews of planned and existing projects, provide reparations for the cost bearers of existing and past projects, and institute a moratorium on funding, planning, or building new projects until the aforementioned was achieved. Several groups – such as the Brazilian Movement for Dam-Affected People (MAB), one of the participants at the Gland workshop – used the WCD to legitimate the calls for the democratization of the decision-making process in their home governments. This was presented as the paramount demand above all other WCD recommendations. (UNEP, 2007a) Multi-lateral lending institutions reactions have been mixed. For instance, the African Development Bank indicated active support for the implementation of the Report and planned to incorporate the criteria and guidelines into the recently completed policy on Integrated Water Resources Management. Similar support was found with the Asian Development Bank. Other lending institutions have been much less enthusiastic. The World Bank, although initially vaguely positive, later became cautious and tentative and

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declined to implement any of the WCD guidelines or acknowledge the request for a moratorium on dam projects and reparations. The Bank gave deference to the countries it supports saying, “Not all WCD guidelines apply in all cases and should not be taken literally, but rather as guiding principles. The decision on whether to adopt the [Commission’s] guidelines lies with the respective developing countries.” (as quoted in Gleick, 2002) International industry and trade associations publicly applauded the effort and intent of the WCD, however some members of this stakeholder group were dismissive of the Report’s findings. Objections were raised on the grounds that the WCD’s methodology was flawed and too much attention was paid to the negative environmental and social impacts of dams, and not enough to their benefits. Another key concern was that the recommendations for dam-related procedures, such as negotiated stakeholder participation, would create onerous bureaucratic problems that would unnecessarily delay or even stop projects due to the weight of policy and procedure. However, a few important international engineering firms and several national chapters of ICOLD, the international dam engineers association, issued positive reactions, the latter in explicit disagreement with the international leadership of the association, which rejected the Report. At least 17 national governments conducted formal reviews of the WCD recommendations following the release of the Report. Many of these were multistakeholder forums to discuss the implementation of the WCD guidelines, as was the case in Germany, Switzerland, Poland, Panama, Lesotho, and South Africa. This is in line with the intent of the WCD. The Commission called on governments to create national

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dialogues and review panels to see where and how they might incorporate the WCD guidelines into existing systems. Governments from industrialized countries, when they actually acknowledged the WCD, were generally approving of its recommendations. In the developing world, where the vast majority of new dams are being built, acceptance has been much more cautious. As states attempt to industrialize, large dams are still widely turned to for hydropower, flood control, irrigation, and water supply. Brazil, Ethiopia, and Nepal praised the values of the WCD, but asserted that those values already informed their decision-making procedures. China rejected the Report on the grounds that the WCD emphasis on bargaining and negotiation were inferior to China’s established decision making procedures. India rejected the Report on the basis of national sovereignty, but also noted derision for the WCD’s “obsessive concern for preserving the rights of affected local peoples.” (as quoted in Dubash et al, 2001, pg. 111)

Institutionalizing the WCD through IWRM Following the release of the WCD Report, the World Conservation Union (IUCN) and the Worldwide Fund for Nature (WWF), two prominent environmental NGOs, began explicit dam-related campaigns based on the principles of the WCD. Both organizations had been active in the WCD process, and in the case of the IUCN, had also been involved in its formation, as a participant in the Gland workshop, and follow up, as a member of the steering committee for the UNEP’s Dams and Development Program. The IUCN set to the task of disseminating the Report and facilitating national-level stakeholder dialogues about energy and water planning. The WWF pressed governments and international organizations to adopt the WCD guidelines as part of their development

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programs. While each encouraged adoption of the WCD recommendations, also significant is the fact that: “Core WCD themes of participation and the livelihoods of local communities were being joined to activities…that traditionally fit within an integrated water resources management perspective. Such activities raise the possibility that expert networking around the IWRM paradigm may provide more fertile ground for norms of watershed democracy than has been the case to date.” (Conca, 2006, pp. 205-206) The notion of participation in IWRM has suffered from ambiguity since it began being incorporated into the concept in the late 1980s. Participation has been interpreted as alternately meaning occasional consultation or active participatory governance, and points in between. However, there is evidence that a new engagement with the idea of participation in IWRM is emerging in the wake of the WCD. One example is the central focus on participation and governance issues at the 2001 Bonn Freshwater Conference, held one month after release of the WCD Report. At the same conference, the German minister for economic cooperation and development endorsed a proposal by the NGO WaterAid for a multi-stakeholder forum, along the lines of the WCD, on privatization and water. (Conca, 2006) Bonn further identified several key tenets – such as decentralization, local authority, and participatory decision-making – that will “provide for increased responsiveness and transparency in water management…, increase participation…, [and encourage] cooperation within river basins and make existing agreements more vital and valid.” (International Conference on Freshwater, 2001) The highpoint for IWRM influence was in 2000 with the release of the World Water Council’s World Water Vision and the Global Water Partnership’s Framework for Action, but the unresolved controversies in water management – primarily contentiousness over the role of large dams and water commoditization policies – have

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prevented IWRM from becoming a normative structure for the resolution of these conflicts and other water development issues. (Conca, 2006) Although the controversial water pricing and privatization debates are outside the scope of the WCD, Dams and Development offers an important foundation for IWRM to move forward on the issue of large dams. Furthermore, the WCD model for participatory decision-making has led to re-engagement with the issue of inclusiveness in IWRM.

South Africa Multi-Stakeholder Initiative South Africa, one of the world’s most prolific dam building nations and also one of its most threatened by water scarcity, was the first country to formally accept the WCD recommendations. Following Dams and Development, the country proceeded with a series of forums on the South African Multi-Stakeholder Initiative on the World Commission on Dams to contextualize the report and make recommendations on its implementations in South Africa. (Hathaway, 2004) The Initiative began before the release of the WCD Report, and after several meetings following its release and a scoping process to take the WCD guidelines further in the South African context. The final report from the committee, released one year after the WCD report, concluded that “the key message from the WCD is that public acceptance of key decisions is essential for equitable and sustainable water and energy resources development.” (as quoted in Conca, 2006, pg. 358, italics in original) South Africa has shown real progress with its strong emphasis on community involvement. The country has been divided into 19 Water Management Areas, each controlled by a local Catchment Management Agency, which makes decisions on

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allocation and use. The CMAs rely on public participation and cooperative governance. (Hall, 2005, 118) This approach was endorsed by the Bonn freshwater conference as an example of good practices in watershed management that incorporate stakeholder participation. Participatory governance in South Africa along the lines of the WCD recommendations has become “an important benchmark of legitimacy.” (Conca, 2006, pg. 360) The emphasis on procedural controversies rather than substantive ones with regards to dams speaks volumes about the demands of the anti-dam movement and the nodes of institutionalization around the WCD. Recall that although specific grievances about the social and environmental impacts of dams are a central part of the movement’s argument, the broader thrust concerns the legitimacy of states and other actors to make development decisions without the input of all stakeholders. Although the WCD has not ended dam related conflict in South Africa, it is an excellent example of the institutionalization of the WCD values into a national context. Ecuador’s Jondachi project is illustrative of the challenges that this process faces in other countries.

The Jondachi Hydroelectric Project The Jondachi River is a steep, low-volume river in the UNESCO Sumaco Biosphere Reserve in Ecuador’s Napo province on the eastern slope of the Andes. The region has a high percentage of Quichua Indians, most of which practice subsistence agriculture. This is one of the most biodiverse regions of Ecuador, which is the most biodiverse country in the world relative to its size. It is a burgeoning tourist destination that attracts whitewater sports enthusiasts and other “eco-tourists” to the national parks, numerous rivers, and Amazonian jungle lodges. The region also has huge hydropower

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potential owing to its natural topography and abundant rainfall of up to 600 cm per year. (UNEP, 2007b) In 2000, an independent power producer, Energia Renovable and Desarrollo Sostenable (ERDESU S.A.), was established with the objective of developing the hydropower resources of the region up to a capacity of 25 MW while providing revenues to regional and local authorities and indigenous organizations. ERDESU is co-owned by the government of Napo province (10%), the two largest municipalities in the province, Tena and Archidona (20%), an indigenous regional organization (10%), a German manufacturer of small- and medium-sized hydropower plants (30%), and GTZ, a German development agency (30%). GTZ has been providing technical assistance to region since the early 1990s under the Proyecto Hidroamazonico (PROHA) agreement between the German and Ecuadorian governments. The main objective of PROHA is the sustainable development of hydropower resources in the region. ERDESU was established following extensive consultation with representatives from all stakeholders and after an analysis of a micro-hydro project built under the PROHA agreement that demonstrated the value of “establishing an effective mechanism for decision-making, benefit sharing, and conflict resolution as well as fostering the local ownership of the project by clearly delegating a number of design and implementation responsibilities to the villages themselves.” (UNEP, 2007b, p. 35) To this effect, none of the seven-member supervisory board members are directly connected to the stockholders of ERDESU, yet are “widely accepted by the three main stakeholders of the project: the local authorities, the indigenous population, and the tourism industry.” (UNEP, 2007b, p. 36)

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Prefeasibility studies for the region’s hydropower resources were completed by ERDESU. A 12 MW hydroelectric project on the Jondachi was selected and three potential sites for run-of-river power plants were identified. During stakeholder negotiations, recreational interests were effective in dismissing one of the proposed sites that would impact an upper section of the river that is a world-renowned destination for whitewater kayakers. Loss of this resource would negatively impact the region’s tourismbased economy. Furthermore, local indigenous groups depend on this section of the Jondachi for fishing and bathing. Additionally, serious technical, economic, and environmental deficiencies were also revealed during ERDESU’s feasibility analysis. (M. Terry, personal communication, December 22, 2008) This led to the selection of a downstream site that would be less environmentally and socially damaging. A concession and permits have since been awarded to ERDESU for the project and topographical, geotechnical, design and profitability studies have been completed for the selected site (see map 4.1). ERDESU is currently negotiating with banks and international donors to secure financing. This appears to be an example of successful implementation of one of the WCD’s strategic principle: gaining public acceptance. The UNEP Dams and Development Program reports: It seems that all decisions made relating to the Jondachi project have gained the support of all involved stakeholders. Indeed, the structure of ERDESU and the decision-making process that has been used to plan the Jondachi project have been influenced to a high degree by the recommendation of the World Commission on Dams regarding the importance of gaining stakeholder acceptance, buy-in and active support in decision-making and implementation… By relying on participative decision-making since the beginning of the project, the hydroelectric power plant planned by ERDESU gained the support of all stakeholders involved…Through equity sharing, regional and local authorities as well as indigenous communities share the risks of the venture but also participate

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in its profits. They also gain a degree of control over the design and operation of the project. (UNEP, 2007b, p. 27, emphasis added) Stakeholders, while forced to make concessions, were satisfied with the outcome of the ERDESU project. Furthermore, the proposed project is reasonably sized – the local energy demand of approximately 5 MW will be completely met by the project – and is also environmentally sensible, as it will replace thermal production and reduce carbon emissions. Finally, ERDESU plans on transferring part of the revenues from the plant to a fund that will be used for social and environmental projects and programs. A board composed of representatives from all involved stakeholders will manage the fund. However, the state-owned utility Termopichincha has proposed a second, larger project further upstream on the Jondachi (see map 4.2). This project has diverged substantially from the WCD core values. The 25 MW project is proposed for the site that was opposed by stakeholders during negotiations with ERDESU, and that ERDESU, after further analysis by the company and their independent consultants, subsequently rejected due to the significant technical, social, environmental, and economic deficiencies, as well as conflicts with existing recreational uses. (M. Terry, personal communication, December 22, 2008) Termopichincha, which is a thermal-power generating company that has no experience in hydropower development, conducted no flow studies as part of their proposal. The proposed project depends on a design flow of 550 cubic feet per second (cfs), while the base flow in this section of the Jondachi averages approximately 150 cfs. (M. Terry, personal communication, December 22, 2008) This suggests that the project will underperform economically and will essentially dewater the river. No stakeholder consultations were conducted during the planning of the Termopichincha project, yet Termopichincha was awarded a water concession in spring of 2008 to proceed with the

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project. The concession has been legally opposed by a coalition of local interests representing tourism, recreation, and other members of the local community and is currently held up in the court system. What are we to make of this? If the Termopichincha project is rejected by the courts, the WCD values will be given a degree of legal legitimacy. Of course, the alternative is also possible and Ecuador’s recent dam-building activity in other drainages suggests stakeholder considerations are not overwhelmingly convincing to the state. Either way, the Jondachi project exhibits the parallel world of policy-making: the multicentric world of ERDESU and the state-centric world of Termopichincha.

Conclusion The WCD has become a major point of reference for activists seeking to affect change in the governance of water decisions. For instance, “anti-dam campaigns in both Thailand and Mozambique have turned to the WCD as a means of legitimizing their claims regarding the lack of a participatory approach on the part of state decision-making processes.” (Sneddon and Fox, 2008, p. 1) Elsewhere, the European Union has stipulated that for hydroelectric projects must follow the WCD guidelines to be eligible for carbon credits under the Clean Development Mechanism (CDM) of the Kyoto Protocol. And while the incorporation of WCD values into the IWRM framework is a significant step towards institutionalization, ultimately this process depends on the state. After all, “a positive reaction from governments is critical to the success of the WCD’s efforts.” (Gleick, 2002) The reactions by states, both positive and negative, have been “far more important in framing the legitimization struggle around the WCD’s protonorms than the

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pronouncements of human rights advocates, environmentalists, or dam-building professionals.” (Conca, 2006, 211) Although the South Africa Multistakeholder Initiative is one example of a positive state reaction, even this success is tempered by the fact that South African demand for electricity is contributing to the construction of decidedly nonparticipatory dams in Mozambique and other neighboring countries. (C. Sneddon, personal communication, May 13, 2009) The fact that many developing countries have been dismissive of the WCD Report – or even overtly hostile to it – suggests some degree of failure. However, evidence towards eventual institutionalization at a regime level is the transference of the WCD initiative to the UNEP Dams and Development Program. In this way, the WCD is part of a broader process of institutionalization of the norms of watershed democracy. (Conca, 2006) On the question of stakeholder participation, this has not been an easy process. The UNEP noted that numerous cases had to be reviewed to find useful examples of successful implementation, especially in developing countries. (UNEP, 2007a) One of those cases was the Jondachi project, and while we can look at ERDESU as an excellent example of stakeholder participation, the message from the Jondachi if the Termopichincha project comes to fruition will be of an altogether different legacy.

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CONCLUSION

There are big hopes for the WCD as a precedent setting model of decisionmaking. The WCD mandate was to analyze the development effectiveness of large dams, but it also aspired to something greater as exemplified by this statement by the WCD Chair Kader Asmal: “The Commission is a prototype for what I like to think of as the real New World Order. It is not dominated by any one agency or by one government, or by the UN or the World Bank. The Commissioners are eminent persons from the forefront of the dams debate and as a group they represent all the worlds that intersect therein.” (WCD, 1999, pg. 3) Indeed, the ability of transnationally linked NGOs to penetrate an institutional void and broker equal status alongside state and corporate actors in the WCD suggests a shift towards more pluralistic conceptions of sovereignty and a democratization of decisionmaking. But the tenuous acceptance of the WCD recommendations indicates that this shift is a dynamic process. Although not without its successes, the location and depth of institutionalization is highly disparate. Furthermore, the WCD is just one node of institutionalization amid other influences, such as Integrated Water Resources Management and water commoditization. Skeptics of the WCD’s authority dispute its legitimacy as part of a state-centric world order. Many scholars have questioned whether multi-stakeholder environmental commissions, of which the WCD is only one of a handful, may be an emerging form of legitimate rule-making, (Dingwerth and Patterg, 2009) although not without inherent problems. For instance, the Forest Stewardship Council based its authority on the “explicit parity of Northern and Southern stakeholders,” but Dingwerth (2008) maintains

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that these claims of authority based on affirmative procedures are much less compelling as an isolated decision-making body than as a part of a multi-level system of standard setting. How then do we locate the authority of the WCD in a system of global governance that is still fundamentally centered on the state, but in which authority is becoming hierarchically diffuse as the legitimacy to govern undergoes multi-scalar transformation? The WCD process decentered state authority and ceded decision-making to nonstate actors. States enjoyed no particular status alongside the stakeholder representatives engaged in conflict and dialogue. “The WCD recommendations – grounded in norms of human rights, watershed-scale democracy, and transnational accountability – essentially moved a set of traditional state responsibilities outside of the sphere of the state.” (Conca, 2006, p. 210) However, states were also re-centered in important ways. The call for national stakeholder dialogues reaffirmed the state as the central arena for conflicts to be disputed and enhanced the role of the state as an agent of norm legitimization. I’ve made the argument that global civil society is changing the nature of global environmental politics and that we are witnessing a shift from a state-centric system to a multi-centric system. This does not imply that the state is being supplanted by a new form of authority rooted in civil society. A better explanation might be what Conca (2006) refers to as hybridization, “in which the retention of some traditional foundations of state authority, the growth of non-state authority grounded in a blend of expertise and moral claims, the development of new bases and realms of authority for some actors, and even elements of role reversal, coexist.” (Conca, 2006, 211) This is consistent with Rosenau’s bifurcated model of global governance that is emerging out of the turbulence in world

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politics. This authority crisis is the consequence of globalization processes that are restructuring the conventional notions of sovereignty and legitimacy. The formation of the WCD and the implementation of its recommendations characterize the bid for authority by an autonomous, multi-centric world over the conventional state-centered world in global politics. As a transnational rule-making organization the WCD is vested with no legal authority. The evidence indicates that adoption of its recommendations is, to borrow Roseau’s terminology, “at the state’s convenience.” However, if other principles of watershed democracy become institutionalized and the power of civil society to catalyze change continues to increase, a shift to a “states are obligated to go along” paradigm might result in more direct institutionalization of the WCD norms. If the discontent over the neoliberal development model continues to fester under the stress of a financial crisis, it seems plausible that this process could be expedited, especially as awareness of the negative social and environmental impacts of large dams grows. A major environmental catastrophe related to dams (extreme food or water shortage, dam failure, etc.) might also coerce a more global push to incorporate the WCD into national frameworks, but conceivably only if that push has institutional backing from the likes of the World Bank. While the legacy of the WCD is uncertain, it does serve as a solid foundation for the eventual institutionalization of the norms of watershed democracy. Additionally, as the neoliberal agenda that has dominated global environmental governance continues to come into conflict with environmentally focused sectors of global civil society engaged in a project to remake global governance, it is possible that the WCD will become a reference point for deliberations. As a more transparent, inclusive, and accountable

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organizational model of global environmental governance, the WCD is a model vested with legitimacy. Successful governance of the environment does not require the creation of more powerful formal institutions; however it does require opportunities to reach consensus on norms and practices, and for that, the WCD is a sound model.

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APPENDICES 2.1 The WCD Commissioners !"#$%&

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2.2 WCD Case Study Dams Aslantas dam, Ceyhan River Basin, Turkey Glomma-Lagen Basin, Norway Grand Coulee dam, Columbia River United States Kariba dam, Zambezi River, Zambia/Zimbabwe Pak Mun dam, Mun-Mekong River Basin, Thailand Tarbela dam, Indus River Basin, Pakistan Tucurui dam, Tocantins River, Brazil Gariep and Vanderkloof dams, Orange River, South Africa (pilot study)

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2.3 WCD Financial Contributors

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4.1 Jondachi River Map – ERDESU

4.2 Jondachi River Map - Termopichincha

Source: Ecuadorian Rivers Institute, 2008

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