This module covered lots of theories and case studies related to social movements. I never got around to writing it all down, so the pages here are just a selection of ideas from the module that you may find interesting, along with two longer essays.
This is an essay I wrote about frame alignment processes. It introduces the concept of frames, then looks at four processes and four kinds of frames that social movements might use. It finally sketches some issues that arise from framing.
Frames are both a linguistic term and a social construct that give social movements enormous power. They enable social movements to recruit members, influence the general public, shape and control public discourse, and even to pre-emptively defeat antagonists' arguments and strategies. There are various framing mechanisms commonly used by social movements that I will explore, including bridging, amplification, extension and transformation. Each mechanism raises issues for social movements themselves, in terms of how they can best achieve their aims, and for society as a whole, in terms of the relative legitimacy of movements.
The term “frame†was defined in a socio-political context by Goffman as a schema of interpretation that enables individuals “to locate, perceive, identify and label†phenomena. Frames allow us to give phenomena meaning so that we can “organize experience and guide action†(Snow et al, 1986: 464). In this sense we are framing all of the time, filtering and collecting information about everything from what we have done over the past few days to how the nation should tackle complex political issues. Social movements frame issues when they describe a problem and their proposed solution. Frames are, therefore, social constructions insofar as a group of people come together around a particular frame and then seek to develop this and other frames for particular ends. Since frames are associated with various processes that I will go on to describe, social movements are continually constructing and developing frames (Klandermans, 1997: 45-56).
It is also important to note that frames define or describe phenomena relative to a particular conceptual framework. Lakoff gives the example of the word 'revolt', which he says “implies a population that is being ruled unfairlyâ€. The use of the word 'revolt', in other words, shapes our perception of the issue being described by, in this case, making us think that whomever opposes the revolt is bad and that those involved in the revolt are just (Lakoff, 2003).
Social movements employ frames for a variety of reasons. Many of the most common processes can be collectively described as “frame alignmentâ€, whereby an individual or organisation seeks to link their frames with others', so that they can become congruent and complementary. According to Snow et al (1986: 464), “frame alignment is a necessary condition for movement participationâ€, because if an individual disagrees with a movement's interpretation of past phenomena and future actions, he or she won't want to participate.
The key to framing is to move individuals between four “poolsâ€, representing levels of support for a social movement organisation (SMO). We can distinguish in the general public those who oppose an SMO's position on a given issue (their antagonist pool), those who are ambivalent, those who sympathise with them (their sympathy pool) and those who agree with the SMO to the point where they participate (the adherence pool). Any SMO will want to move as many people as possible across the pools in the order stated, such that more people become sympathetic and eventually participate.
Snow et al (1986) distinguish four ways in which frames can be used for alignment: bridging, amplification, extension and transformation. The first of these mechanisms, frame bridging, involves linking two or more frames together regarding a particular issue. The two frames have to be ideologically congruent but structurally unconnected, such that, previous to the process of bridging, the frames allow for a common perception of the issue but they don't guide a common action. Frame bridging can occur between movements, organisations, individuals or a combination of the three.
The goal of this process is to bring unconnected groups into a specific structure more conducive to collective action. If one assumes that collective action arises from individuals belonging to a particular organisation, as opposed to simply sharing a sentiment or perception, then frame bridging is an important process for SMOs. They can use frame bridging to identify a “probable adherent pool†and to then “bring these individuals within the SMO's infrastructure†(Snow et al, 1986: 468). This new base of structurally cohesive individuals can then be used for anything from political action to fund raising. They can also then themselves bridge frames with other individuals and organisations, or provide the means for the SMO to expand its frame bridging operations.
For example, Moral Majority, a movement of the Christian Right in America, used its pool of structurally cohesive adherents to raise “in excess of 2.2 million dollars via mass mailing campaignsâ€. They then used this money on “extensive media campaigns†that tied (ideologically congruent but structurally unconnected) religious conservatives into the organisation. And there is also evidence that organisations in the peace movement in Texas used frame bridging to connect themselves to other organisations by targeting ideologically congruent publications and events (Snow et al, 1986: 468).
The second mechanism, frame amplification, involves clarifying and invigorating an existing frame. This mechanism is necessary because individuals ascribe to a huge number of values and beliefs that frame their interpretations of phenomena, and they frequently arrange them in a hierarchy “such that some have greater salience than others†(Snow et al, 1986: 469). For an SMO to bring an individual into its structure or to motivate action on a particular issue, it has to be able to appeal to an interpretive frame relating to the issue that the individual prioritises, simply because individuals cannot possibly mobilise themselves on every issue that they find ideologically appealing. So by amplifying a given frame, an SMO can convince individuals that a particular issue is worth their time and effort.
There are two kinds of frame amplification identified by Snow et al (1986: 469): value amplification and belief amplification. By values, they refer to “modes of conduct or sates of existence that are thought to be worthy of protection and promotionâ€. So value amplification involves identifying values that an individual or community holds, and then elevating their importance to the point where the values themselves inspire collective action within the structure of the SMO.
A compelling example of this can be found in the Christian Right movement in America, where “value politics†has come to dominate discourse. Lakoff (2003) identifies a moral system predicated on the “strict father†family, according to which we require strong, disciplined leaders (father figures) to stand up to us, and for our own sake. This interpretive frame allows leaders in the movement to win support not by providing any factual basis for their claims, but by appealing to that value. Similarly they can appeal to the values that they identify and amplify in The Bible to win support on moral issues like abortion and gay marriage. Or to take another example, Martin Luther King quoting from the U.S. Constitution and other documents important in the American mindset helped him to amplify the value of equality. Value amplification refers to, and defines, the goals of a movement, and makes it difficult for any opposition to redefine them.
The second kind of frame amplification, on the other hand, refers to “ideational elements that cognitively support or impede actionâ€, i.e. beliefs. It is “sociologically axiomatic†that our actions are contingent on our beliefs (Snow et al, 1986: 470), and so an SMO will naturally seek to shape or control individuals' beliefs pertaining to a particular issue to guide their action. Put simply, I won't act on some evidence that I don't believe.
One can identify three kinds of belief that determine action and that are relevant to frame amplification: beliefs about the antagonists or targets of influence; beliefs about the efficacy of action; and beliefs about the necessity or propriety of taking action. The first kind of belief is easily amplified by appealing to stereotypes. For example, in a neighbourhood campaign against the relocation of a Salvation Army shelter, to overcome the values associated with the antagonists (Christian charity, etc.) the leaders of the movement amplified the stereotype of the shelter's 'customers'; they personified these people as “slothful, alcoholic, mentally deranged, criminalistic and sex-crazed†and emphasised the threat they posed to neighbourhood residents, “particularly women and children†(Snow et al, 1986: 470). It's important to note that the activists didn't invent these beliefs, but rather amplified them in their target audience: their neighbourhood and those in a position of power. So when the politicians came to decide on the application for relocation, they were faced with a decision to bring these stereotypically undesirable men into their community, rather than a decision to bring in a Christian charity.
The second kind of belief, about the efficacy of any action, is especially important in movements that face long odds. Individuals won't participate if they don't think they will be effective, and so to motivate and sustain participation leaders of movements must elevate the belief that the movement will meet its goals. For example, leaders in the nuclear disarmament movement in America draw analogies between their work and the nineteenth-century abolitionist movement, which was highly successful (Snow et al, 1986: 471). Leaders and those working in the media arm of a movement will also frequently refer to and amplify previous successes to inspire confidence in the movement's members.
Where a movement seems to have little chance of success, leaders can also amplify the necessity or propriety of participation. These sentiments have been common amongst the anti-war movement in the past few years, particularly in the run-up to the Iraq war in countries where the governments had either voted to go to war, or were almost certain to do so in the near future. Demonstrators cited standing up for democracy and bearing witness for the sake of history as reasons for taking to the streets when they knew that the war was likely to still go ahead 1. Of course appeals to propriety will involve amplification of values as well; for the given example, the value of democracy was amplified to in turn amplify the belief that it was proper to stand up for that value.
The third framing mechanism is frame extension, which is used by SMOs when they are unable to establish sufficiently large sympathy or adherence pools by bridging and amplifying their core frames. In this situation they can extend their frames to encompass frames shared by a target audience, such that those people become ideologically congruent with the SMO and are then open to become structurally congruent. The newly adopted frame should be “of considerable salience to the potential adherentsâ€, and should of course not contradict any of the core frames of the SMO, though sometimes contradictions do seem apparent (Snow et al, 1986: 472).
A popular example is when an SMO organises a music concert or fund raising event that attracts a large audience. By extending their frame to encompass these auxiliary interests, they can reach a far larger crowd than their core frames would allow. So in 1978 the UK-based Anti Nazi League organised the Rock Against Racism concert in Hyde park, headlined by white punk rockers like The Clash and black reggae bands like Jimmy Pursey. The acts were already politicised, so the frame extension wasn't egregious in the sense that they weren't hi-jacking the appeal of their musicians, and it helped the ANL massively widen its sympathy pool, opening up possibilities for frame bridging and amplification.
Of course sometimes the extension is more contentious, as with the Muslim Association of Britain (MAB) and its recent anti-war stance. By extending the frame described by their stated aim of “protecting human rights in general and Muslims in particular†to include opposing wars that they perceive as persecuting Muslims in particular, they have been able to bridge with other anti-war groups like the Socialist Workers Party. But in doing so, despite their stated aim to avoid “relationships of cooperation and coordination†with organisations that “contradict the aims and objectives of the MABâ€, they, an anti-abortion, Islamist organisation have created relationships with organisations with contradictory aims2. This has created a disruptive tension within the movement.
Sometimes an existing set of frames may not be congruent, or may even be contradictory, with the existing frames of an SMOs target audience. That it not to say that they stop advocating one cause and change their focus to something altogether different. Rather, an SMO can assimilate new values and beliefs into their epistemological framework and develop new interpretive frames that are more congruent with their target audience, thereby replacing or expanding their sympathy and adherence pools.
In the American anti-pornography movement, for example, the dominant interpretive frame was informed by feminism, and emphasised the domination of men over women. First lesbian and gay campaigners began to object to this narrow interpretation that seemed either to preclude or sanction lesbian and gay pornography. Then racial minorities began to protest that this frame didn't account for racial abuse or violence. The Christian Right, whose interpretive frame emphasised obscenity, found no potential for congruence whatsoever. One response came from Cathryn MacKinnon, a feminist lobbyist. She transformed the interpretive frame to emphasise discrimination against women, invoking John Stuart Mill's harm principle, "a valid excuse for circumventing the First Amendment" and a frame that religious moralists and the Civil Rights Movement could both support. The frame further alienated lesbian and gay campaigners, and angered many feminists who didn't want to ally themselves with the Christian Right, so frame transformation is not without its problems (Carreon, 2003: 6-13).
Frame transformation can also involve a radical reinterpretation of the subject. Equal rights movements such as the Civil Rights Movement and the gay rights movement have sought to transform society's interpretive frames to see and judge their constituents not according to the colour of their skin or their sexuality, but by other less objectionable attributes.
These four kinds of frame alignment are important tools for social movements. They allow SMOs to enlarge or reinforce their sympathy and adherence pools, which in turn can help them achieve their ultimate aims. The aforementioned processes seem applicable to all social movements, but in particular to those who need to make their claims resonant and legitimate in broader public discourses, and for movements that otherwise struggle to gain the level of support they require (Stratham et al, 2002: p9).
Focussing on the pro-migrant and anti-racist movements in the UK, Stratham et al (2002) found that these two movements employed different kinds of frames for this reason. They distinguished four kinds of frame: diagnostic, which seek to identify and define the issue, often by attributing blame or causality; prognostic, which identify strategies, tactics and targets; motivational, which identify a rationale for action that is both normative and moral; and moral, which perform the same function as a diagnostic frame but with reference to moral norms rather than facts and beliefs. They found that the pro-migrant movement used a higher proportion of moral frames than the anti-racist movement, which used diagnostic frames more heavily (Stratham et al, 2002: 10).
Their explanation for this is that moral frames work well when the prevailing political climate is hostile to a movement's diagnostic frames. The anti-migrant movement has been so successful in amplifying their belief frame about migrants – a negative stereotype – in the general public that the pro-migrant movement is unable to transform the resulting dominant frame based on diagnosis. So it has to appeal to moral values to undermine this dominant frame, and win sympathy by ultimately transforming the frames that inform and guide the public on the issue.
This raises an important issue about framing. Thus far the impression given by my reconstructions of the arguments of Snow et al (1986) and Stratham et al (2002) have been one-sided insofar as they explain how a movement can seek to overcome some existing ambivalence or antagonism. But where there are two or more social movements that have antagonistic aims, framing is not just about recruiting sympathisers and adherents, but also about shaping wider public discourse.
In the case studies highlighted by Stratham et al (2002) and Lakoff (2003) it is clear that the social movements use frames to define the terms of discourse such that certain preconceptions and conceptual frameworks are introduced. The pro-migrant movement is forced to deploy moral frames because the anti-migrant movement has so successfully framed discourse by their own terms. The progressive liberal movement in America is in an even worse position since, according to Lakoff (2003), they haven't even reacted to their antagonists' frames with moral or diagnostic frames of their own, but have rather participated in discourse limited by their antagonists' frames. So when debating tax, for example, they are confronted with an uphill struggle of arguing for increases in the “tax burden†and for less “tax reliefâ€.
The power that frames have, then, both for shaping or controlling public discourse, winning support and guiding collective action on any particular issue is significant. This raises a very traditional political dilemma, for the ability to use frames in the ways so far described is not universal; some social movements seem more adept at framing than others. So when dealing with social movements it can be difficult to establish the relative legitimacy of grievances, the accuracy of descriptive claims and the validity of normative claims independently of the frames the movements are seeking to impose. In fact, this seems impossible since we will always be analysing a movement from some kind of conceptual framework, which can lead to increasingly partisan movements that cannot recognise any validity in others' arguments for frame conflicts. SMOs may become engaged in a Machiavellian struggle for frame dominance.
So for social movements, frames are an extremely important tool. With them they can define public discourse about particular issues on their own terms, or at least introduce terms more congruent with their own ideological interpretations. They can then bridge, amplify, extend and transform frames to expand their sympathy and adherence pools, and strengthen their ability to dominant discourse in whichever sphere they happen to operate. Social movements are continuously constructing and developing frames ultimately to shape the political process in their favour. But in an environment where SMOs have aims that sometimes overlap and sometimes contradict one another, framing can create problems for the organisations and the wider public alike.
Carreon, A (2003), 'The Anti-Pornography Movement', American Buddha, http://www.american-buddha.com/ana.anti-porn.pdf
Klandermans, B (1997). The Social Psychology of Protest, Oxford: Blackwell.
Lakoff, G (2003). 'Framing the issues: UC Berkeley professor George Lakoff tells how conservatives use language to dominate politics', UC Berkeley News, http://www.berkeley.edu/news/media/releases/2003/10/27_lakoff.shtml
Snow, D.A, Burke, E., Worden, S.K., and Benford, R.D. (1986). 'Frame alignment processes, micromobilization, and movement participation', American Sociological Review, vol. 51, pp.464-81.
Statham, P. and Mynott, E. (2002). 'The Dilemma of Anti-Racist and Pro-Migrant Mobilisation in Britain: Visibility or Political Power?', Paper for the Joint Sessions of the ECPR, Turin. http://www.essex.ac.uk/ECPR/events/jointsessions/paperarchive/turin/ws23/MynottStatham.pdf
This is an essay I wrote comparing repression and institutionalisation, with respect to how much of a threat they are to social movements. It's obviously much more complex than the length of the essay allows, but the gist is that the context defines the threat each poses. If opposition agents can act with impunity, and the movement doesn't enjoy a lot of popular sopport or can equally be repressed, outright repression is the greatest threat. But then in the UK, for example, where state repression is fairly minimal, institutionalisation can be a much greater threat.
Oh, and because I had to answer the question, I suggest one is worse than the other, which I don't really agree with!
Repression has been defined as “any action taken by [government] authorities to impede mobilization, harass and intimidate activists, divide organisations and physically assault, arrest, imprison and/or kill movement participants†(Stockdill, quoted in Earl 2003: 45). These would traditionally include harassment, intimidation, assault, detainment and murder. Earl expanded this definition to include non-forceful forms of repression such as limiting the legal scope and powers of NGOs or covertly subverting a movement from within. Repression can be exercised by state or private actors, or actors where the two are confused, such as policemen or politicians sympathetic with private interests (Earl 2003: 46-47).
Good examples of brutal repression can be found in South American countries such as Chile, Argentina and Uruguay, which suffered under military dictatorships at several points during the 20th Century. Democratically elected leaders such as Allende in Chile were overthrown, dissidents were tortured and killed; human rights abuses were widespread. Right-wing governments collaborated to pursue transnational campaigns of repression against left-wing opposition movements, from mainstream figures such as Allende to extremists such as Marxist guerrillas. The most stark example of these activities is Operation Condor, a campaign of assassination and intelligence gathering conducted by the governments of Argentina, Bolivia, Brazil, Chile, Paraguay, and Uruguay in the mid-1970s. With the support of the United States, the governments represented an overpowering force that kept Pinochet in power in Chile for 17 years. Many movement members were forced to leave the country, and even then they were hunted down as far afield as the United States and France (van Auken 2004, McLeary 2004).
In this case, repression would seem to be overwhelmingly effective; if you're going to repress a movement, killing many of its members and causing others to desist or flee seems like the best option. However, while repression usually demobilises citizens, excessive abuses may directly stimulate mobilisation. Of course the type of mobilisation it stimulates will depend upon factors including the opportunity structures left open by the repressive actors and the resources available to the early risers (Loveman 1998: 485).
In Chile, the Pinochet dictatorship ended in 1990 (though Pinochet didn't step down as Commander in Chief of the Chilean Armed Forces until 1998) in part because of oppositional movements that arose in reaction to his repression. In spite of the culture of fear he created, human rights organisations persisted and in some cases grew. They were helped by economic factors that, with a global repression and a downturn in the Chilean economy, promoted popular unrest – opportunity structures that were out of the control of the repressive state. The movement grew out of, and was facilitated by, religious organisations including the Catholic Church, associations of family members of victims and, towards the end of the dictatorship, political parties. These groups had strong transnational links, particularly the Catholic Church, and could count on the allegiance or at least sympathy of most ordinary Chileans (Loveman 1998: 487-489).
Not even the military dictatorship, with the support of its neighbouring states and, covertly, the United States, could repress the networks that assisted the oppositional movements. Thus, when the opportunity arose, the repressive powers of the state were overwhelmed by the people.
The importance of opportunity is underlined by the case of Burma, where a similarly brutal dictatorship still holds power. The Burmese junta enjoy the economic support of Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), the United Kingdom and other developed states. Despite boycotts and relatively low-key protest movements, spearheaded by human rights organisations like Amnesty International, foreign intervention even in the form of sanctions seems unlikely. Inside the state, the junta is able to match any popular risings with overwhelming repression. In 1987 an opportunity not unlike the one that the Chileans seized so successfully arose: the Burmese leader changed the currency overnight, making the savings of most Burmese people worthless. Farmers rebelled, were joined by students and after facing down a massacre by the hands of the army 10,000 people marched into the capital city. The rebellion persisted through 1998, but they had not won, and the army soon cracked down, murdering and imprisoning thousands. The junta resurfaced, rebranded but with the same personnel and character (Pilger 1998: 192-198).
Of course this kind of brutal repression couldn't be used by every state, nor private actors in said states. Democratic states have violently repressed social movements, such as the extreme police tactics deployed against anti-globalisation protestors in Genoa and the actions of the American police during the race riots of the 1960s. They have also sought to covertly subvert and coerce movements, most notoriously with the COINTELPRO operations aimed at attacking dissident political organisations within the United States. Initially targetting communists under McCarthy, then branching out to tackle various threads of the “New Leftâ€, the Black Panthers and even the Ku Klux Klan, the FBI repressed social movements across the political spectrum with little blowback; though it has undoubtedly tarnished the image of the FBI and the federal government, the establishment rolls on unharmed.
Again, however, the success of COINTELPRO lies as much in the social context in which it was pursued as with the repressive tactics it involved. Opposition to the movements they repressed was and remains relatively popular, particularly in the case of the communists. For actors who cannot rely on such favourable circumstances, there remains only one form of repression: channelling. By shaping or introducing regulations, states can limit opportunities available to more institutionalised social movement organisations (SMOs), thereby repressing their activities. Channelling can be observed both in democratic states where, for example, laws passed by states in America in the 1960s and 1970s prevented campus protests. Pinochet's dictatorship channelled the activities of the Catholic Church by obstructing the flow of international funds. And simply by creating a tangle of regulations that limit the scope of activities that NGOs can engage in, states can channel their activities (Earl 2003: 50-51). For example, charitable organisations in the UK are unable to pursue political ends, thus forcing SMOs to choose between the financial benefits of charitable status and the political problems that status poses.
Channelling, however, relies on a degree of institutionalisation. SMOs may operate outside of the scope of regulations, and they may simply break laws designed to constrain them. Greenpeace activists, for example, routinely break the law when performing protest stunts. Only through seizure of finances or by declaring the SMO itself illegal can the state wield its muscle and forcibly repress it.
In fact, channelling may be thought of as a kind of institutionalisation rather than repression. For example, organisations seeking to stage large-scale demonstrations in the United States and the United Kingdom need to obtain a permit. SMOs involved in the protests outside the US Democratic National Convention in 1996 were only allowed to protest at three designated sites, none of which took them past the convention centre. Those seeking to speak to and leaflet passers by and delegates were restrained inside a metal cage. The state framed these restrictions as being necessary to contain the more violent elements of the protest movements, whilst in fact containing the effectiveness of demonstrations that were largely peaceful anyway. By engaging constructively with the SMOs over a period of time – institutionalising their activities – police forces in democratic states have been able to normalise public demonstrations, thereby reducing their impact (McCarthy, McPhail 1998: 83-84).
This can also be seen in the negotiations between the trade unions, the Socialist Worker Party and police over the annual Mayday demonstrations, which now follow a specified route cordoned off by the police (with the exception of a smaller number of anarchists and other radicals who continue to protest without permission). The institutionalisation of these protests has been especially effective because the SMOs want to avoid the bad publicity created by violence, especially when they are organising exceptionally large demonstrations such as the anti-war march of 16th March 2003, which attracted a broad base of support. On the other hand, one could say that though the SMOs were limited in their activities by agreeing to be channelled, they didn't lose any worthwhile options – violence and other forms of illegality would have put many of the one million protesters off – and gained the legitimacy required to win over moderate sympathisers.
Channelling is at its most effective when the organisations are highly institutionalised and centralised. Professional SMOs have full-time staff, are incorporated or at least have a formal constitution and legal status and tend to have a heirachy to manage these structures. Voluntarily SMOs may still adopt the same organisational trappings, and enjoy financial benefits from legal status. The more interaction between the SMO and the state, and the more levels and areas on which they interact, the more opportunities the state has to channel their activities.
Institutionalisation carries other benefits with their dark side. SMOs who have close links with state or private actors will be invited to participate in their policy and implementation processes. Reputable NGOs can confidently walk the corridors of power, speaking to politicians, CEOs and others in a convivial (at best) or non-confrontational (at the least) context. However, once in this position an SMO will be under pressure to moderate what they say. Too radical a message may alienate them from those in power and wreck their relationship. The state or private actor can then put pressure on the SMO by either explicitly or implicitly making known boundaries of acceptable behaviour and position. Thus an SMO that, for example, seeks to radically transform environmental legislation to include the precautionary principle may find itself arguing for minor reforms that in no way correspond to its original aims.
One could defend this change as being pragmatic, pointing out that SMOs that fail to institutionalise may fail to effect any change at all. But even if this were true, institutionalisation would still represent a serious threat to social movements. In fact, I'd suggest that it is made even more dangerous by the fact that SMOs outside the institutions are made less effective by the close links their institutionalised competitors enjoy; the state will choose to work with, and listen to, those that are most malleable. Only SMOs that can disrupt the state are exempt from this danger. One could also advance the normative position that this institutionalisation is merely the SMO becoming part of the democratic process, and that it's better than a confrontational arrangement.
In its extreme form, SMOs can become entirely coopted, dropping positions that threaten the establishments they work within and even adopting positions that they would otherwise have disagreed with. As institutionalisation tends to accompany centralisation and a drift in position towards the establishment, so SMOs can lose touch with their grassroots. This can create several new problems. First, with little popular support, both from activists and sympathisers, an SMO may suffer a deficit of legitimacy, undermining its bargaining power within establishments that must, to some extent, be swayed by popular opinion. Second, the SMO will lose a large base from which they can develop intellectual and tactical vitality, and so may become preoccupied with bureaucracy to the detriment of their goals. Finally, the SMO will lose the tactical advantages that a grassroots base of activists can give them, such as the ability to stage mass demonstrations, targeted stunts or mass lobbies.
As McAdam notes:
“The establishment of formal organizations [...] sets in motion [...] the destructive forces of oligarchization, cooptation, and the dissolution of indigenous support [all of which] tames the movement by encouraging insurgents to pursue only those goals acceptable to external sponsors. [...] The long list of movements that have failed to negotiate these obstacles attests to the difficulties inherent in the effort†(quoted in L. Earle 2004, p.5)
Not only does institutionalisation tame SMOs, but movements too. If social movements are supposed to provide a more open, accessible space for oppositional and contentious politics, then the process of institutionalisation effectively shuts them down. Participation becomes increasingly difficult, and the decision makers increasingly unaccountable and unapproachable.
Worse still, if SMOs are institutionalised it is unlikely that a popular reaction will create new spaces that have as much power and weight as the original SMO. Unless the principle SMOs in a movement completely diverge from their constituency it is likely that any competing SMOs that try to redress the balance will suffer the shadow of the institutionalised SMO. This can be contrasted with the effect of repression, which, as I stated with the Chilean example, tends to promote popular uprisings. Unlike Burma, where the state could exercise brutal powers to repress even large-scale resistance, most states can only engage in more understated and covert forms of repression, with limited usefulness. Institutionalisation, on the other hand, can be employed in any state from Chile to the United Kingdom, and can be made a continuous policy process, engaging with every sizeable SMO in an attempt to diffuse movements.
What makes institutionalisation that much more threatening to social movements, then, is not the weight or force that it can bring to bear on movements but its effectiveness and the safety from blowback. A state or private actor cannot be accused of human rights violations or gross misconduct for entering into a dialogue with social movements, and it can contain movements in the long term far more effectively than with limited repressive forces.
Earl, J (2003). 'Tanks, Tear Gas, and Taxes: Toward a Theory of Movement Repression'. Sociological Theory, vol. 21
Earle, L (2004). Social Movements and NGOs: A Preliminary Investigation, International NGO Training and Research Centre website, http://www.intrac.org/Intrac/docs/SocialMovementsandNGOs.doc, on file with author
Loveman, M (1998). 'High-Risk Collective Action: Defending Human Rights in Chile, Uruguay, and Argentina'. The American Journal of Sociology, vol. 104
McCarthy, J, McPhail, C (1998). 'The Institutionalisation of Protest in the United States'. In The Social Movement Society: Contentious Politics for a New Century. Boston: Rowman & Littlefield
McLeary, P (2004). 'The long and lethal reach of Gen. Pinochet. Declassified memos show Kissinger, Nixon condoned assassination, human rights abuses in Chile'. San Francisco Chronicle, 14 March
Pilger, J (1998). Hidden Agendas. London: Vintage.
Van Auken, B (2004). 'Chile's arrest of Pinochet and the "Condor" killers in the US'. World Socialist Web Site, http://www.wsws.org/articles/2004/dec2004/pino-d18.shtml, on file with author
There are always discontents and issues that will motivate protest. What varies is the resources available to them, and that they can mobilise. Even if grievances didn't exist a good Social Movement Organisation (SMO) would be able to convince people otherwise, so they don't even figure as factors.
Wealthier societies have more social movements because they have more disposable resources (including money, time, better education, means of communication and transportation, and so on)
The character of a movement is shaped by the mobilisation and management of resources (e.g. a SMO that has huge resource demands will most likely be more hierarchical).
Likewise organisation choices driven by other choices (e.g. the green preference for decentralisation) may determine the resource mobilisation capabilities of an SMO.
SMOs may often compete for resources, especially if we consider activists to be resources. Thus considerable energy may be diverted into competitive activities that don't directly impact on their goals.
Movement "entrepeneurs" have an important role in leading mobilisation efforts
Appropriate and effictive resource mobilisation can determine an SMO's success
Movements are primarily political, making demands of the state or trying to change / overthrow it, so opportunities can be crises (e.g. economy in Chile in 1989), internal divisions (e.g. British Cabinet in early 2003) and new state structures (e.g. Freedom of Information Act in UK, though not straightforwardly a good opportunity, or the Parliament Act or even the introduction of universal franchise).
Appraisal of opportunities must include the risks and the influence of the SMOs concerned. These can include:
Political opportunities can be objective and subjective (e.g. the civil rights movement in the 1950s was buoyed both by legal victories & rural-urban migration AND raised expectations and perceived opportunities that arose). In the 1979 Iranian Revolution there were no objective opportunities at first, but rather a perception followed by a lack of repression.
Though beliefs, ideology, resources and opportunities are important factors, most people will make the final step and participate - and remain active - if their existing social networks overlap. These networks can include friends, colleagues or other SMOs that you already belong to. Diani found that, in Milan, 72% of environmentalists joined via other social networks.
SMOs can either recruit 'blocs' (other SMOs or SMs) or create new blocs
e.g. the gay & lesbian movement in the USA recruited from the New Left and womens' movement
e.g. the Stop the War Coalition in the UK merged the blocs from the SWP, MAB and some Trade Unions to create a large core of the movement
Activists, especially in denser social networks, can develop common identities that become increasingly important with risks, e.g. the freedom summer volunteers. One exception may be with personal transformation, e.g. the Hare Krishna asking for total exclusive membership meaning that social networks couldn't figure.
Networks may develop between SMOs and individual activists because of overlapping membership, the sharing of resources (e.g. the People & Planet network) and to resolve conflicts (especially of ideology and strategy, e.g. the WSF and ESF)