Theorizing Community Development

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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Vol. 34 No. 2 2004
Theorizing Community Development ............................................................. 5

Jnanabrata Bhattacharyya
Investing in Communities: Social Capital’s Role in Keeping Youth in School ... 35

Glenn D. Israel and Lionel J. Beaulieu
Citizen Participation in Nonprofit Economic Development Organizations .. 58

Daniel M.Sullivan
Concerns of Newcomer and Longtime Residents in Nonmetropolitan Idaho

Communities: Does the “Gangplank” Theory Apply to Older Populations? . 73
Virginia W. Junk, Tammy L. Seefeld, Cynthia J. Schmiege,
and Paul G. Windley
Resident Attitudes Toward a Proposed Limestone Quarry ........................... 93

Sezer Göncüolu-Eser, A.E. Luloff, and Rex H. Warland
Book Reviews
Socioeconomic Democracy: An Advanced Socioeconomic System

by Robley E. George ............................................................................. 110
Reviewed by Michael John Dougherty, West Virginia
University Extension Service
Ecology and Design: Frameworks for Learning

by Johnson, Bart R. and Kristina Hill (eds.) ...........................................112
Reviewed by Stephen P. Gasteyer, Rural Community
Assistance Program, Washington, D.C
The New Poverty Studies: The Ethnography of Power, Politics, and

Impoverished People in the United States
by Goode, Judith and Jeff Maskovsky (eds.) ....................................... 114
Reviewed by John J. Green,Delta State University
Growing Up in an Urbanising World
by Louise Chawla (ed.) .........................................................................116
Reviewed by Lorna Heidenheim, Ontario Healthy Community
Coalition
Deforestation, Environment, and Sustainable Development: A Comparative

Analysis
by Dhirendra K. Vajpeyi (ed.) ............................................................... 118
Reviewed by Michael Hibbard, University of Oregon
The Information Economy and American Cities

by Matthew P. Drennan ........................................................................120
Reviewed by Annabel R. Kirschner, Arkansas State University
Panarchy: Understanding Transformations in Human and Natural Systems

by Lance H. Gunderson and C.S. Holling (eds.) ................................... 121
Reviewed byDiana Laughlin, Colorado State University
Just and Lasting Change: When Communities Own Their Futures

by Daniel Taylor-Ide and Carl E. Taylor (eds.) ......................................123
Reviewed by Ken Martin, Cooperative Extension, West
Virginia University
The Democratic Process and the Market: Challenges of the Transition

by Miha’ly Simai (ed.) ...........................................................................126
Reviewed by Ronald R. Pope,Illinois State University
Divine Right of Capital: Dethroning the Corporate Aristocracy

by Marjorie Kelly ..................................................................................127
Reviewed by Douglas Clayton Smith, Kentucky University
Steering Business Toward Sustainability

by Fritjof Capra and Gunter Pauli (eds.) .................................................129
Reviewed by Bonnie Wichtner-Zoia, Ogemaw County
Cooperative Extension, Michigan State University
Community-Based Participatory Research for Health

by Meredith Minkler and Nina Wallerstein (eds.) ..................................131
Reviewed by Srikanth Yamala, University of Nebraska-Lincoln
EDITOR’S COMMENTS
This issue of the Journal continues to further my editorial vision of providing
cutting edge theory and research on key issues of community development
practice. The goal is to publish articles that build a solid theoretical and research
foundation for community development, while being useful to practitioners.
I am very pleased that this issue of the Journal includes an article by
Jnanabrata Bhattacharyya, “Theorizing Community Development.” This is
important to the Journal and to the field of Community Development in several
ways. First, Bhattacharyya was a founding member of the Community Development
Society, and during his years as a Professor at Southern Illinois University,
Carbondale, he helped to shape the field and trained many of our field’s current
leaders. One of his contributions was an earlier article defining community
development as solidarity and agency published in the journal Human
Organization. It is a classic piece that has contributed to much of the new theory
on community development, and it figured prominently in many of the articles in
the Journal’s special issue on Community Development Theory published in 2001.
Follwing publication of the Special Issue, Bhattacharyya was invited to join
a few colleagues at a retreat following the Ithaca CDS conference in July 2003 to
discuss community development theory. An outcome of the workshop was an
invitation for him to update and revisit his earlier article and to write a new article
for the Journal that would provide examples and further reflections on his key
insight of community development as solidarity and agency. We publish this
article with the hope of both sharing his insights with our current readership and
stimulating debate. Thanks to Bhattacharyya for working in this special piece
for us, to the peer reviewers who helped suggest ways to tighten the arguments,
and to Noemi Danao and Marilu Carter who helped ready it for publication.
Following this “keynote” theory article, we include four research pieces
that deal with residents’ action and perception of their community. The first two
articles show the benefits of community involvement to build strong communities
through community development initiatives. Israel and Beaulieu report on their
research that shows that building social capital can increase educational outcomes
such as keeping youth in school, and this in turn helps increase community
economic vitality. Next, Sullivan examines how increasing community
participation in local nonprofit economic development organizations helps
economic development. His research shows that most citizens participate
indirectly through their public officials, and that the nonprofit development
organizations tend to work with other organizations such city officials and
chambers of commerce, rather than individuals. Sullivan calls for organizational
changes to increase citizen participation.
The final two articles in this issue look at community action from the
perspective of concerns and attitudes of residents. Junk, Seefeld, Schmiege,
and Windley revisit the issue of how newcomer and longtime residents in rural
(c) 2004, The Community Development Society
communities view growth in their communities. They found that the newcomers
were more concerned about managing growth than the fact that their communities
might continue to grow, countering the perspective that newcomers would move
into town and “pull up the gangplank.” Longtime residents were more concerned
about the costs of growth and rising house prices that would price their children
out of the market. Finally Göncüoglu-Eser, Luloff, and Warland recount the
tensions that exist between newcomers and oldtimers to the opening of a
limestone quarry in a small town. The newcomers saw the quarry as a threat to
environmental quality, while the oldtimers saw it as an issue of jobs and the
expression of private property rights. These articles emphasize how important it
is that community development practitioners learn and understand the concerns
and interests of community residents, which are often more complex and nuanced
than might be assumed based on conventional wisdom
Finally, we continue to appreciate the help of our staff, the support given
by the Human and Community Development Department at the University of
California, Davis, and the many peer reviewers who have helped evaluate
manuscripts and make sure they are of the highest possible quality. We thank
the following reviewers:
Jeff Sharp Robert Pence Steve Deller

Leone Ohnoutka Larry Leistritz Jim Killacky
David Darling Norm Walzer Mary Emery
Emil Malizia Thomas Stafford Brian Dabson
Jerry Hembd Thomas Gaunt Jason Henderson
Gary Craig Timothy Borich Brent Hales
Ron Hustedde John Daley Gregg Lichtenstein
Karri Winn Vicki Luther Rick Eberhard
Courtney Norris Steve Jeanetta Maria Marshall
Domenico Parisi Kenneth Pigg Edward Malecki
Steve Murdock Ron Hustedde* Tammy Werner
Laurie Wermuth Jnan Bhattacharyya Julie Zimmerman
Robert Ogilvie Steve Aigner Christopher D. Merrett
Kai Schafft Stephen Longstaff Scott Loveridge
Peggy Hickman Eric Scorsone Brett Zollinger
Alice Schumaker Gary Green Mark Brennan
Mildred Warner David Bruce
Beth Honadle Mary Schwass *reviewed two manuscripts
Journal of the Community Development Society Vol. 34 No. 2 2004
THEORIZING COMMUNITY
DEVELOPMENT
By Jnanabrata Bhattacharyya
ABSTRACT
This paper attempts a parsimonious definition of community development. It proposes
that the purpose of community development is the pursuit of solidarity and agency by
adhering to the principles of self-help, felt needs and participation. The erosion of solidarity
and agency has been a historic process, connected particularly to the rise of industrial
capitalism, the nation-state, and instrumental reason. Examples of community development
practice as a positive response to the erosion are given from the fields of public health,
violence, micro-economic development, and food. It also argues that “place” as a proxy for
community has become conceptually as well as practically inadequate, and that effective
community development calls for micro-macro coordination.
Keywords: community development theory, self-help, felt needs,

participation, solidarity, agency
INTRODUCTION
This paper submits a theoretical framework for the practice of community
development, intended to help to distinguish the field from other related
endeavors. It perhaps goes without saying that it should be read as one person’s
idea of community development, although its debt to numerous authors should
be evident throughout the paper. In an earlier exercise (Bhattacharyya, 1995) I
had proposed that community development is different from other endeavors in
that it aims at building solidarity and agency by adhering to three practice
principles, namely, self-help, felt needs, and participation. That paper has been
received in community development and related fields with interest. Among
other reactions, it was utilized as a springboard for discussions at the 2003
Community Development Theory Retreat at the Taughannock Farm Inn in
Trumansburg, New York. This paper reflects my response to some of the feedback
I received at the Retreat, as well as my continuing engagement with the subject
while iterating the earlier proposition.1 I discuss some of the definitions of
community development of the last forty years to show the continuing need for
a more rigorous definition. I have suggested that the purpose of community
development should be seen as different both from its methods and the techniques
to implement the methods. I have argued that place or locality often used in
community development literature as a proxy for community has become or is
Jnanabrata Bhattacharyya, Emeritus Associate Professor, Department of Political Science, and

Director (1984-1994), Department of Community Development at Southern Illinois University at
Carbondale. Email: [email protected]
6 Journal of the Community Development Society
becoming analytically irrelevant and practically inadequate. Finally, I have put

forward the notion that in centralized states community development practice at
the micro level increasingly calls for macro level intervention as well. I begin with
a discussion of the problem of bounding the field of community development.
The Problem of Defining Community Development

A theory of community development will define the concept and delineate
the characteristics of its practice. It will demarcate the field from other endeavors
in clear and unambiguous terms. But in community development literature
such a theory is generally not available. What precisely is community
development? Why is engaging in it important? And where does it stand in
relation to other practical as well as academic endeavors? These are questions
that have been rarely posed and discussed. There has been, historically, a
reluctance to define the concept. “[F]or the present, all approaches which claim
to be Community Development be accepted as legitimate contributions,” thus
recommended William Biddle in 1966 (p. 12). Four years later, Lee J. Cary
(1970) warned against““premature closure.” Nearly a quarter century after that,
Christenson and Robinson (1989, p. 14) said much the same thing: “[D]efinitions
of community development are not clear-cut, how one interprets community
development affects one’s orientation when initiating a development program.”
Denise and Harris (1990, p. 7) expressed similar sentiments: “This concept
[community development] is as varied in definition as those who profess to
practice it.” Many who call themselves community developers can perhaps do
so because the field is unfenced; if it became fenced, they would be obliged to
go their separate ways, or retrain.
The risk of exclusivity is probably real, but if the adherents themselves do
not define the field, others will (as they have) and not necessarily to their
advantage. For instance, a widely held belief in the U.S. and elsewhere is that
community development is the same as “community organization” (CO), a
specialty in Social Work, or only a part of this specialty. Especially since the
1968 publication of Jack Rothman’s “Three Models of Community Organization
Practice,” community development has been viewed by many as Locality
Development, which is one of the three models. Rothman’s article exerted a
profound influence on the definition of community development, in part because
its publication coincided with the establishment of community development
graduate programs in the United States, and it came in handy.
Without much reflection, community development practitioners interpreted
CO or only Locality Development as community development. Rothman’s
article and, later, Social Work textbooks on CO (e.g., Kramer & Specht, 1969;
Cox et al., 1974) were also the textbooks for introductory courses in community
development graduate programs. The field was thus allowed to be defined by
Social Workers. By adopting these textbooks, academic community developers
legitimized the locality development definition while never ceasing to protest
Bhattacharyya 7
that in some inarticulate way community development was different from CO

and Social Work. Lee Cary, the founding president of the Community
Development Society, reinforced this definition. In his keynote address to the
1982 meeting of the Illinois State Chapter of the Community Development
Society, he had observed in reference to Rothman’s article that “the first model
of practice is identified as locality development, what we would refer to as
community development.”
Certainly, community development is not lacking in “definitions.” Indeed
a surfeit of statements purporting to be definitions have been published each
slightly differently worded in an idiosyncratic frenzy with no explanation as to
why the particular terms were chosen. (For a comprehensive list of such
definitions, see The Handbook of Community Development, compiled by the
Department of Community Development, University of Missouri-Columbia,
n.d.). Two observations need to be made about most of these definitions: first,
they are conceptually vague, and, second, they have a tendency to conflate place
with community. Just to illustrate the point, let us scrutinize the definition in
Community Development in Perspective edited by Christenson and Robinson
(1989). It was published with the endorsement of the Community Development
Society, and it has been fairly influential. Under “Major Concepts” (pp. 5ff.), the
editors observe: “Community development encompasses a loosely tied group of
concepts based on the experiences of community development practitioners.” (p.5)
That is, community development is what community developers do. But how do
we identify a community development practitioner? This is a circular definition.
Problems Defining Community

The editors then offer clarifications of the meaning of community,
development, social change, community development, and related concepts (pp.
6ff.). They note that today:
Places of work, of commerce, of recreation, and of sleep are often miles
apart, perhaps communities apart. Yet no matter how complex communities
have become, the need to understand and to be able define community is
still of critical importance to community developers. Most of our meaningful
interactions take place in a defined spatial area. Most of us live; work;
attend church; send our children to school; drive on the same roads;
complain about the same traffic problems; and buy groceries, gas, and
clothing in a general locality, neighborhood or community. (p. 6, emphasis
added).
Reading the first sentence closely, they state that places of work, recreation,
residence, etc. are far from one another. Then, they confuse the issue by saying
that most of our meaningful interactions take place in a “defined spatial area… a
general locality, neighborhood or community.” We can ask, what is this defined
spatial area, especially since places of work, commerce, recreation, and sleep
are far from one another? What principle or criterion defines it?
In the next paragraph, the editors use the expression community or

neighborhood introducing new ambiguities:
In short, a community or neighborhood can exist with close linkage to the
larger society and still retain its identity and viability because it provides a
basis for the local population to engage in community actions.” (emphasis
added).
Here again we need to ask, what is local? Leaving aside the substantive
point of this paragraph which is highly debatable (Janowitz, 1978; Bellah et al.,
1985), it appears that the authors attempt to slide from general locality through
neighborhood into community. This paragraph is devoted to considering the
relevance of place or territory to the concept of community. The editors point
out disagreements among writers on this issue. But instead of confronting the
disagreements with one another in order to reconcile or synthesize them or
even to side with one of them, they peremptorily declare:
The editors of this book think that spatial boundaries are an integral part of
community and that most social interactions take place within defined and
proximate spatial limits. Consequently, place or territory is considered a
second component of our definition.(p. 14).
What are “defined spatial limits”? What is proximate in the days of fast transport?
Another example of circular reasoning – and imprecision – is in their
discussion of the “fourth element” of community (pp. 7-8):
The fourth element of community is the idea of common attachment of or
psychological identification with a community. Most people are able to
give you the name of the community in which they live. People become
dependent on a particular locality for the purchase of goods and services,
for recreation, for employment, and for socializing. This locality is what
most people identify with as community.
Instead of defining community, the statement presupposes it and specifies one
of its features (attachment, identification). The difficulty continues with “People
become dependent on a particular community…” This thoroughly contradicts
the prior observation (p. 6) that “Places of work, of commerce, of recreation, and
of sleep are often miles apart, perhaps communities apart.” Now people are
dependent on “a particular community.” And, in the next sentence, locality
becomes community, with no explanation.
Confusion about the Definition of Community Development

A similar criticism can be made of their treatment of the definition of
community development (pp. 11-14). After listing a number of definitions of
community development they propose one of their own (p. 14): “a group of
people in a locality initiating a social action process (i.e., planned intervention)
to change their economic, social, cultural, and/or environmental situation.” It
Bhattacharyya 9
may be recalled that the term locality and its relation to neighborhood, place, or
community were left in a state of confusion; now in this definition it occupies a
vital place. Also, why is political left out from the series? This definition no more
and no less than the others they have cited is vague and arbitrary. There is no
particular impetus for choosing one set of terms over another. But all this
discussion of community development definition is rendered pointless by the
conclusion of this section (p. 14), which I have already signaled: “In short,
definitions of community development are not clear-cut, and how one interprets
community development affects one’s orientation when initiating a development
program.” So anything goes? It is another way of saying that, according to
them, community development is not definable.
Much the same can be said about the work of Denise and Harris (1989).
They write in the Introduction (p. 7), “This concept [community development]
is as varied in definition as those who profess to practice it.” As evidence, they
note that the 22 authors in Christenson and Robinson (1989) each had defined
the term differently. They then add one of their own. Thus, a community is “a
collectivity of people, who can be identified geographically, who have something
in common which unites them in action…. Such a definition includes micro
communities (special interest groups, neighborhoods, subdivisions, villages,
towns, etc.) as well as macro communities (cities, megalopolises, areas, regions,
states, nations, international alliances, and global humanity).” Like Christenson
and Robinson, Denise and Harris conclude:
We believe that community development should be so defined as to
encompass the wide spectrum of beliefs of those who practice it. Therefore,
to the editors, the “field of community development” contains numerous
approaches to community development with differing values, beliefs, goals,
purposes, and methods – all of which are concerned with improvement of
the communities (p. 7).
What is not an approach to community development, then? Every socially
approved occupation exists because it is thought to contribute to community
improvement. If community development is to be recognized as a distinct
academic/professional field, then an all-encompassing concept is not going to
accomplish it; not everything that contributes to community improvement can
be claimed as community development. To define, after all, is to set limits.
A concept of community development must satisfy two conditions. First, it
must be distinctive in its purpose and in its methodology. Second, it must be
universal in scope: it must be applicable to all types of social formations, urban
as well as rural, post-industrial as well as pre-industrial, to sedentary as well as
nomadic populations. Our task therefore is to construct an unambiguous
reference point to guide community development activities and to determine if
certain activities fall within the orbit of community development. Such an attempt
is made in the next section.
A Theory of Community Development

It is necessary at the outset to explain what I mean by theory. There is a
widespread misconception that only explanations can be theories. In hard sciences,
theories or laws are indeed explanations; they claim to explain how a phenomenon
occurs and make predictions on the basis of that. But theories can also be
teleological – charters for action towards a goal, such as theories of democracy,
freedom, equality, etc. where the purpose or the end reflexively enters the causal
stream, urging, when necessary, modification of our action. The purpose of building
a rocket, for instance, cannot do that; it cannot alter the laws of physics. Democratic
theories are not like the laws of physics. They are not explanations but they
elaborate a vision of a kind of social order. A theory of community development is
of this kind. It advocates a particular kind of social order and a particular
methodology for getting there. How children learn is a matter of explanation, but
“No Child Left Behind” is not a matter of explanation but a goal to be attained,
which calls for changes in the way we manage our school education.
We assess the quality of a teleological theory by the reasonableness (to us)
of its assumptions or value premises (e.g., We hold these truths to be self-evident
that all men are created equal) and the logical coherence between the assumptions,
the methods, and the goal. The assumptions or value premises are political choices,
unlike the axioms of physics. Accordingly, a theory of community development
will specify its purpose (goal, rationale), its premises, and its methods.
One important point needs to be made beforehand. A purpose is different
from the methods that may be utilized to achieve it, and both of these in turn are
different from the techniques or tools that may be utilized to implement the
methods. We have a purpose to fulfill, we try to do that by following certain
methods, and we implement the methods by means of certain techniques. A
method refers to the logic of the actions to achieve the purpose. It is a more
general description of what needs to be done than the techniques or tools. Suppose
we want to revitalize our main street (the purpose). We choose to encourage
various specialty stores to locate downtown (the method), and how we encourage
them (tax incentives, pedestrian malls, antique streetlights, etc.) are the techniques.
The asset-based community development (ABCD) approach (Kretzmann &
McKnight, 1993), community development corporations (CDC) (Ferguson &
Dickens, 1999), social planning, social action, locality development, etc. are
techniques or tools, not to be conflated with either the purpose or the methods of
community development. For community development to be a distinct field, its
purpose and its methods must be specific to it. As regards tools, they need not
be specific to community development at all; we could access the entire range of
human knowledge as potential tools for the implementation of its methods.
I propose, as I had done earlier (Bhattacharyya, 1995), that we conceptualize
the purpose of community development as the promotion of solidarity and agency.
Although this formulation may appear to be yet another arbitrary definition of
community development, I will argue that solidarity is the essential characteristic
Bhattacharyya 11
of community, and, there is an important view that the purpose of development

is to promote agency (see, for example, Berger, 1974; Giddens, 1987; Sen, 1999).
Moreover, I think these are the qualities that most community development
writers intend to convey in their definitions of the term.
Community as Solidarity
For community development to be a universally relevant field, we have to
extract the essence of the term community and not be limited by its common
usage in the social sciences and community development literature. Durkheim’s
(1964[1893]) mechanical solidarity and Tonnies’s (1957[1887]) Gemeinschaft
referred to pre-industrial social formations – villages or tribes. Similarly, the
community development definitions produced by the United Nations, the
Ashridge Conference, the Cambridge Conference, the International Cooperation
Administration (the precursor to the U.S. Agency for International Development)
meant pre-industrial social configurations. So did most anthropologists and
other social scientists that were concerned with development (Bendix 1964;
Biddle & Biddle 1965; Brokensha & Hodge 1969; Dobyns, Doughty, & Lasswell
1971; Dube, 1963; Erasmus, 1961; G. Foster, 1973; Goodenough, 1963). With
a few exceptions (e.g., Bradshaw & Blakely, 1979; Clinard ,1966; Ferguson &
Dickens, 1999; Kretzmann & McKnight, 1993; Popple & Quinney, 2002; Spiegel
& Mittenthal, 1968) most self-identified community development writers brought
to their work a classical concept of community – as a village or at least a rural
agricultural settlement or a small town (Batten, 1957; du Sautoy, 1958; Flora,
1998; Knowles, 1960; Sanders, 1958a, 1958b; Summers, 1986; Wileden, 1970).
From the very inception of the field, rural or agricultural settlements or
small towns have stood as a proxy for community. Even in the exceptional cases
signaled above, place or space (e.g., urban neighborhoods) has remained an integral
constituent of community. It can thus be said that place, whether rural, urban or
whatever, has been an invariant element of the concept of community, and, as I
argue below, it must be transcended to reach a theory of community development.
Three observations need to be made on this connection of place with
community. First, this mode of usage takes the meaning of community as self-
evident. A neighborhood, a small town, or a village is automatically assumed to
be a community, regardless of the absence of any cohesion in it.
Second, it obscures another understanding of the term that transcends all
connections with place, such as Durkheim’s organic solidarity and Tonnies’s
Gesellschaft, a solidarity based upon shared interests or circumstances. It is this
quality that is invoked for such bodies as the Jewish community, the Christian
community, the community of Islam (the Umma), the Black community, the
medical community, and, at an earlier time, trades union. In this sense of
community place is incidental, not integral to its definition.
Finally, it fails to take into account the radical social change brought about
by modernity in the social significance of place. Modernity, very briefly, is the
complex of transformations ushered in by industrialization. Wherever industry

has become the dominant mode of production, it has had the effect of dissolving
or at least weakening place-centered communities. We recognize place-centered
communities better by an earlier term for it, namely, face-to-face communities
(Gemeinschaft, mechanical solidarity, folk community). Place or locality was
significant in such societies because most social activities took place within its
confines and among people who were familiar with one another and who shared
a common culture. Modernity divests place of this significance as most social
activities can no longer remain confined in the “place” but must be oriented to
unknown people in unknown places, to abstract institutions, and within rules
that are different from the community norms (Berger, 1973; Giddens, 1990). It
can even be said that the solidarity movements in the last century and a half
arose in reaction to the decay of place-centered communities. Thus, a focus on
place in the definition of community distracts from a theory of community
development. A broader concept of community would not prevent us from seeing
or developing community where place retains its significance, while freeing us
to focus on the widest range of communities. Developing community in this
sense has acquired an increasing urgency in recent decades in post-industrial as
well as newly industrializing countries (for a useful summary of the concerns
about community in the West, see Bellah et al., 1985; Fowler, 1991; Plant ,1974;
Polanyi, 1944; Putnam, 1995; Wolin, 1990).
What is this quality that unites these two different understandings of
community? The classic answer is solidarity (Durkheim), meaning a shared
identity (derived from place, ideology, or interest) and a code for conduct or
norms, both deep enough that a rupture affects the members emotionally and
other ways. The decade old social capital movement conveys the same meaning:
networks, trust, and mutual obligations enabling people to take collective measures
to address shared problems (Putnam, 1995), as does the quality of life ideals
listed by Ferguson and Dickens in their vision for community development (1999,
p. 2). It is the weakening of this solidarity that has been in one way or another
the point of departure for social criticism for over two centuries (e.g., Bellah et al.,
1985; Fowler, 1991; Nisbet, 1962; Putnam, 1995; 1993; Wolin, 1990; Zagarella, 1988).
Understanding community as solidarity (shared identity and norms) serves
to define the concept in a distinctive and intrinsic manner, making it possible to
distinguish a community from all other types of social relations. We can say
that any social configuration that possesses shared identity and norms is a
community. The term is thus freed of the incidental baggage of territoriality,
ethnicity or level of industrialization of the economy.
Development as Agency
The ultimate goal of development should be human autonomy or agency –
the capacity of people to order their world, the capacity to create, reproduce,
change, and live according to their own meaning systems, to have the powers to
define themselves as opposed to being defined by others (de Certeau, 1986;
Bhattacharyya 13
Giddens, 1984). Giddens (1984, p. 14) puts it succinctly as “to be able to ‘act
otherwise’,” that is, “to be able to intervene in the world, or to refrain from such
intervention, with the effect of influencing a specific process or state of affairs.”
Others have called it freedom (Sen, 1999). It is apparent that empowerment,
capacity building, and similar “buzz words” are not ends in themselves but
means for the higher end of agency.
Agency is a modern concept, and it is linked with the concept of choice,
which in turn is the product of the pattern of social change called modernity
(Apter, 1971). In pre-modern societies, neither the concept nor the problem of
agency could arise because choice was either conceptually absent or very limited.
It is only with the onset of modernity that we could think of choosing our occupation,
our domicile, our attire, our diet, and even our religion. But, as will be discussed in
slightly greater detail later, modernity even as it created unprecedented
opportunities for choice and agency also unleashed forces to annul them. To
foster agency is what sets part of the agenda for community development.2
There was a time when development was indistinguishable from economic
development, or, more narrowly, growth in the value of gross domestic product
(GDP). That still seems to be the meaning in ordinary language. Most people
understand development as economic development. In the field of development
studies, the focus on simple economic growth was replaced first by the idea of
modernization (better technology and associated cultural change), and eventually
by the idea of “human development” and freedom (Blomstrom & Hettne, 1984;
Sen, 1999). The Human Development Report published by the United Nations
Development Program since 1990 utilizes a Human Development Index to measure
development. The index is a composite of life expectancy at birth, literacy rate,
mean years of schooling, and GDP per capita in real terms. Human development is
defined as the creation and promotion of people’s choices and capabilities, that is,
agency, which is the unifying concern of the social sciences and humanities today.
Wittingly or unwittingly, many governmental as well as private social service
organizations create chronic dependency in the “clients,” establishing a
relationship as between givers and abject recipients, the latter rarely gaining the
capability to break out of the relationship. They are service providers. In
community development parlance, such projects are set up for the clients not
with them. Examples abound in the social history of most welfare societies of
the providers strongly discouraging the “clients” from developing a sense of
entitlement to the services that they could demand as a matter of civic right. On
the contrary, the clients, poor and ill educated, frequently the targets of social
ridicule and contempt, are scarcely allowed to develop what Freire (1973) called
the critical consciousness. Briefly put, critical consciousness means not
accepting an undesirable condition as fate or unchangeable, understanding the
structure of causes that brought it about, and then evolving strategies to mitigate
them. Community development in order to promote agency aims at generating
critical consciousness, addressing problems that the affected people “own” and
define, and take active measures to solve.
Defining development as agency-promoting activity has the advantage of

parsimony: it captures the goals typically enumerated in community development
definitions (economic and social change, improvement of quality of life, etc.),
and, besides, it specifies the ultimate goal of development.
We can thus say that for any activity (economic development, organizing
migrant farm workers, mobilizing for minority rights, elderly care, the
environment, cultural rights, or better schools) to be called community
development, the activity must be animated by the pursuit of solidarity and
agency. Defining community development this way – the fostering of social
relations that are increasingly characterized by solidarity and agency – also
aligns community development with the mainstream intellectual concerns in the
humanities and the social sciences today, adding to the field’s academic
respectability. Furthermore, it opens up a vast field for action and research on the
process of erosion of solidarity and agency and the means for reconstructing them.
The Context of Community Development

Community development is a positive response to the historic process of
erosion of solidarity and agency. Its premise is that people have an inalienable
right to agency and that solidarity is a necessity for a satisfying life. Community
development is a part of the democracy project. At the core of democracy is the
vision of solidarity (“fraternity”) and emancipation from authoritarianism or
“unnecessary domination” (M. Weber) (agency). At the highest level, solidarity
demands that we feel a concern for every person in the nation and the world as
a whole (the solidarity of the species), extending solidarity to people we do not
know. This is also the argument for the public good. More practically, it implies
a willingness to engage in collective effort to create and sustain a caring society.
Freedom from authoritarianism or agency means the opportunity for the
affirmation of the human will. Authoritarianism means the exercise of power by
persons or institutions demanding obedience: it permits no dialogue, no freedom
to inquire, only compliance. It does not permit ‘acting otherwise’. Agency means
freedom from unnecessary restraints (negative freedoms) and access to resources
that makes affirmation of the human will possible (positive freedoms). More
practically, it means respect for different preferences, different cultures, and
different ways of life.
Since I have said that community development is positive response to the
process of erosion of solidarity and agency, it is necessary to trace the history of
this process.
The Erosion of Solidarity and Agency

The erosion of solidarity and agency is a modern affair. In the evolution of
human society, we see transformations of solidarity. For example, the
domestication of plants and animals and the rise of agriculture dissolved the
solidarity type of nomadic or hunting-gathering society, but they generated new
ones of the type found in farming villages. Similarly, the invention of printing
Bhattacharyya 15
coupled with the spread of literacy vastly enlarged the private space at the cost
of public entertainment (such as public poetry recitation) and of the leisure time
spent in the company of friends and neighbors (see McLuhan, 1962; Febvre &
Martin, 1976). But these also enabled the formation of new forms of solidarity
based on more widely shared meanings, attitudes, and sentiments.
What we are confronted with today is erosion rather than transformation of
solidarity at both micro and macro levels. The very titles of some works of the
second half of the 20th century, Bowling Alone by Robert Putnam (1995), The
Lonely Crowd by David Riesman (1950), The Pursuit of Loneliness by Philip
Slater (1970) convey a sense of the state of solidarity today. In the case of the
United States, Putnam (1995) noted the steep decline in a number of dimensions
of solidarity (social capital) – in civic participation, church going, membership
in social clubs, trade unions, in time spent with family and neighbors. During
the last third of 20th century, they fell by 25 to 50 percent at both macro and
micro levels. According to the 35 country World Values Survey, civic
participation and social trust levels are worse in most other countries in the
Survey than in the United States (Putnam, 1995), and the process of solidarity
erosion, notes Meranze (2001, pp. 110-111),
is visible all around us: in the closing of health facilities, the widespread
stigmatization of some recipients of governmental assistance, the transfer
of fiscal resources from schools to prisons, long-term attacks on labor unions
and labor rights, the contraction of social commitments to shared basic
rights, the tightening of “social borders.”
It is impossible in this short essay even to outline the complex history of
the erosion of solidarity and agency. I will therefore focus on several related
factors of modernity that have played a decisive role in it, industrial capitalism,
the rise of the nation state, and instrumental reason. It should be noted at the
outset that social change, at least its modern variants, is almost always
ambiguous; it ushers in changes that enhance life while at the same time making
it less meaningful. This is true of these factors as well.
Industrial Capitalism
Beginning in the late 18th century in countries where it has become the
common mode of production industrial capitalism has created unprecedented
prosperity, numerous amenities, and freedom from famine. It has expanded
literacy, increased life expectancy at birth, and has vastly enlarged opportunities
for choice. In many cases, it has brought about a democratization of society.
However, the erosion or even destruction of solidarity has also been an
integral feature of the process of industrialization, with its attendant ideology
of the free market. This is a well traversed ground but bears a little recapitulation
in view of the current euphoria in many quarters about globalization of free
market economy that has tended to obscure the catastrophic effects of free
market on human solidarity, since its beginning.
The dominant fact about industrial capitalism is the commodification of life

and its consequences. This has been the verdict - and the warning - of social
critics of diverse ideological persuasions from the 19th century to the present
day. This is one point on which Marxists, non-Marxists, and even anti Marxists
are in broad agreement (see, for example, Bellah et al., 1985; Berger, 1973, 1974;
Marx & Engels, 1847; Nisbet, 1953; Polanyi, 1944).
A commodity, by definition, is an object produced for sale on the market,
and a market is the intersection of demand for and supply of a commodity.
There has to be a market for every ingredient of the economy, including labor,
land, and money. But labor, land, and money are not commodities. Sixty years
ago, Polanyi (1944, pp. 72-73), the distinguished economic historian, wrote:
“Labor is only another name for a human activity which goes with life itself,
which in its turn is not produced for sale but for entirely different reasons,
nor can that activity be detached from the rest of life, be stored or mobilized;
land is only another name for nature, which is not produced by man; actual
money, finally, is merely a token of purchasing power which, as a rule, is not
produced at all, but comes into being through the mechanism of banking or
state finance. The commodity description of labor, land, and money is entirely
fictitious.”
But it is this “commodity fiction,” Polanyi (1944, p. 73) continues, that is utilized as a
vital organizing principle in regard to the whole of society affecting all its
institutions in the most varied way, namely, the principle according to which
no arrangement or behavior should be allowed to exist that might prevent the
functioning of the market mechanism on the lines of the commodity fiction.
A free market would eventually ruin society. This is how Polanyi (1944, p. 73)
deduced it:
[T]he alleged commodity “labor power” cannot be shoved about, used
indiscriminately, or even left unused, without affecting also the human
individual who happens to be the bearer of this peculiar commodity. In
disposing of a man’s labor power the system would, incidentally, dispose of
the physical, psychological, and moral entity “man” attached to that tag.
Robbed of the protective covering of cultural institutions, human beings
would perish from the effects of social exposure; they would die as victims
of acute social dislocation through vice, perversion, crime, and starvation.
Nature would be reduced to its elements, neighborhoods and landscapes
defiled, rivers polluted, military safety jeopardized, the power to produce
food and raw materials destroyed. Finally, the market administration of
purchasing power would periodically liquidate business enterprise, for
shortages and surfeits of money would prove as disastrous to business as
floods and droughts in primitive society.
Polanyi pronounced these dire warnings sixty years ago. Their aptness is
amply demonstrated today by the current state of the world: the acute social
dislocations, crime, perversions and starvation, global warming and the
Bhattacharyya 17
despoliation of nature, and economic crises. The warnings that may not seem to
have come to pass (such as food production) might yet do so; but the predicted
ruination of society has been averted not by the mechanisms of the free market
system but by its regulation by the state. The Great Depression in the United
States, for example, did not come to an end because the market had corrected
itself. It was overcome, and the society saved, by state intervention (the New
Deal) to regulate the free market.
The implication for community development of the arrival of industrial
capitalism and the free market ideology derives from the extraordinary fact that
for the first time in human history, at the end of the 18th century, society became
an accessory of the market. Until then the economic system was an accessory
of the society controlled and subordinated by social authority. With industrial
capitalism society came to be regarded as an aggregation of individuals as
opposed to a complex web of relationships; and a new ideology emerged,
anchored in the new science of economics, that defined the human being as an
individual bent on optimizing individual utilities. This was reflected as
methodological individualism in philosophy, economics, and the social sciences.
Solidarity and the entire culture complex (meaning systems, sentiments, religion,
language) were regarded as externalities: often hostile, dysfunctional, and in
need of radical reform if they impeded the utility optimizing behavior, as pre-
industrial solidarity and culture patterns almost always did (Foster, G., 1973;
McCleland, 1961). The value of human beings came to rest on their market
price. It is this historic reversal that provides the context for community
development, the predominance of the market, the dis-embedding of economic
activities from society, and the rise of the isolated individual that has structured
the erosion of solidarity in modern and modernizing societies.
Market economies today are highly, though imperfectly, regulated by the
state or other agencies (e.g., in the United States, the Federal Reserve Bank, and
the Departments of Treasury, of Health and Human Services, of Labor, and the
Securities and Exchange Commission). But the process of objectification, the
underlying individualistic ideology, and its preoccupation with negative freedoms
persist. There is mounting pressure in the United States (and elsewhere such as
Britain, Germany, India) to drastically cut back state regulation of the market, and
to reduce the role of public policy generally. In the United States, examples of the
absence or erosion of solidarity at the macro level are large-scale poverty and
illiteracy, the reluctance to increase minimum wage, millions of children who are
not immunized, and OSHA regulations that are being weakened (Iceland, 2003).
The erosion of solidarity does not remain confined to the macro level but is
mirrored in every social space (Bellah et al., 1985; Berger, 1973; Putnam, 1995). The
logic of industrial capitalism with its attendant characteristics of commodification
of life and radical individualism permeates every aspect of life and has a global
reach. The implication for community development is that weak solidarity and
meager social capital diminish the potential for collective action.
The Ascent of the Nation-State

Benedict Anderson (1983) has called the modern nation-state the imagined
community. In the nation-state, we feel a kinship with fellow citizens by virtue
of common nationality although we really do not know most of them. Beginning
in the 19th century the nation-state, in tandem with industrialism has triumphed
as the common and the dominant form of social organization. It has indeed
become almost interchangeable with nation or even society. As with
industrialization, the story of the nation-state is also ambiguous. It created the
opportunity for broader communication and solidarity than earlier modes of
social organization often encompassing multitudes of ethnic, linguistic and
religious groups. The concomitant centralization of political, administrative,
and fiscal powers often subdued the bigotry of ethnic and religious groups.
By the same token, the nation-state has ruined earlier solidarities based on
cultural identity. Communities lost their relevance as economic and political
powers were centralized and national social and ethical norms came to dominate
community norms. The republican communitarian tradition in the United States,
for instance, that had impressed de Tocqueville, was effectively brought to an
end in the second half of the 20th century. The tradition of American federalism
with strong regional cultures was disrupted by the rise of a strong center with a
unitary national culture committed to individualism (Shain, 1994).3
The impetus to forge a single national identity led most frequently to the
enthronement of one language as the national or official language to the exclusion
and sometimes brutal suppression of all others. Turkey, for example, did not
even acknowledge the very existence of Kurdish, the language of some 20 percent
of the population, until August 2002 (Kurkcu, 2003). But this has happened in
almost every nation, in the U.S., in Canada, all over Europe and Russia (Seton-
Watson, 1977), in China, and the Philippines. In California, Hispanic children
were punished for speaking in Spanish while at school (Hakuta, 1986), and it
was the same with Native Americans in Canada. In post-Revolution France, all
non-French languages were abolished by law (Weber, 1976). Anglicization in
the U.K., Russification in the Russian Empire, and Sinicization in China, most
prominently in Tibet (Dalai Lama, 1990) are examples of the same policy of
cultural domination that almost always accompanies nation building. In
numerous countries today communities submerged in the nation-state are striving
for measures of autonomy or outright secession.
The challenge before community development is to find ways to resist the
homogenizing impulse of the nation-state and to defend cultural pluralism.
Reason
Reason has numerous versions. Instrumental or technical reason is the
reason of calculation and efficiency. Rational choice theory in sociology and
political science is a loan from economics where rationality is defined as the
capacity to choose the most efficient means to attain an end, and consistency in
Bhattacharyya 19
choice. It is concerned strictly with the means, and indifferent about what we
choose for the goal that we should be efficient about. This reason pervading
every modern institution obscures the goal from reasonable scrutiny and becomes
an end in itself. Reason as efficiency is measured by market-price computation
of benefit-cost ratios. The human or environmental benefits or costs figure in
the computation only if and when they affect efficiency. This reason becomes
the only kind of reason. It subverts community by expropriating the authority to
judge and validate traditions, worldviews, and the entire range of human
subjectivity (e.g., attachment to place and people). Modern societies are
rationalized societies where every aspect of life has come under the purview of
instrumental reason (Berger, 1973; Braverman, 1974; Weber, M., 1978).
As conceived in 18th century Western Enlightenment, reason is a mental
faculty – absolute, eternal, and universal. It challenged and even supplanted the
authority of the church and god. It is reason that is in charge of the universe, not
god. It is the reason of science and technology, and of historicism. With its
application, we can discover the laws of the universe and of human history and
manufacture objects. These laws are independent of what we may think or feel.
They are ineluctable as the laws of thermodynamics.
A third version views reason as context-bound, inter-subjective, dialogical,
or communitarian. Reason means “the willingness to talk things over”; to be
reasonable is “to be conversable” (Rorty, 2001). There is not just one, singular
reason, absolute and universal. It is not a free and spontaneous activity, but
contexted and historical. Modern rationality is merely a historical condition,
and is therefore susceptible to change. Because reason is context-bound, there
may be as many reasons as contexts. The purpose of rational inquiry is not to
apprehend objective truth or reality, which is assumed to be already there, to be
discovered. The truth or reality is that which results at the end of the investigation.
Objectivity does not mean correspondence to a pre-given reality, but inter-
subjective or communitarian agreement on the definition of the reality (see the
debate in Brown, 1984; Rorty, 2001, Sahlins, 1976).
We can call the first two versions of reason positivist and the third version
subject-centered or inter-subjective or communitarian. The positivist version
was dominant in the social and behavioral sciences until the 1960s – the purpose
was to discover laws of human behavior as scientific as those of the hard sciences
(Giddens, 1987). Auguste Comte, the co-parent of sociology with Saint Simon,
looked for sociological laws of human affairs (prevoir pour pouvoir). Karl Marx
following the historicist tradition formulated his laws of economic determinism;
Ernst Cassirer sought a “positive,” “exact,” political science. (The positivist
version has returned in the social sciences as rational choice theory.)
The communitarians find support in Darwin: evolutionary progress is tychistic
– it occurs through “accidental congruence of genetic modification with
environmental niches” (Rorty, 2001, pp. 29-30). There is no systematic law in
human affairs, which are full of uncertainties and randomness. Communitarian
reason thus sought to debunk historicism and positivism as it applied to human
societies: you cannot extrapolate from the past to the future. Human culture is an
act of bricolage, tinkering: we fashion things out of what we have available around
us. Positivist reason may explain natural and social phenomena. It can help us in
determining benefit/cost ratios or evaluating the rationality of a course of action
for a given end. But it cannot furnish the ends – the gods or demons we pursue are
beyond the scope of instrumental reason (Bernstein, 1985).
The implication for community development is that positivism disregards
our subjectivity – our will, our spontaneity, our meanings, and our capacity to
order things. Positivism confronts us with seemingly ineluctable laws that we
must obey. The ground is thus prepared for domination sponsored by the state,
the party, religious bodies, teachers, parents, or the local planner, all of whom
claim to uphold truth in compliance with objective facts and reason. Laws and
decisions based on reason thus can be presented as apolitical, uncontaminated
by particular preferences.
Reason liberated us from religious and political tyranny but harnessed to
industrial capitalism has itself become tyrannical as instrumental reason. Cultures
that do not obey the market logic of capital are labeled as irrational. In order to
explain why poor countries remain poor, the resistance to or the slow pace of
modernization, western social scientists and their Third World emulators in the
1950s and 1960s branded whole cultures as suffering from various syndromes
which by their absence explain the “success” of the West. Thus, the Mexicans
suffered from the encogido syndrome (Erasmus, 1961), some from the image of
the limited good (G. Foster, 1973), or lacked the achievement motivation
(McCleland, 1961). Southern Italians had amoral familism (Banfield, 1958),
and now it seems all Italy does (Ginsborg, 2003). Such characterizations of cultures
become meaningful only from the perspective of instrumental reason. Family,
community, tradition, and place that made life meaningful are often viewed as an
irrational drag on the march of rational choice. Where this reason takes hold,
cultures lose their vitality; solidarity disintegrates into an aggregation of
individuals bowling alone.
The same reason is at play when developers objectify people. Development
research, for example, is frequently what Chambers (1983) calls extractive. The
researchers extract information from people who act merely as passive reservoirs
of information with no role in designing the research agenda or in the research
process. People’s cognitive participation (Berger, 1974) – their perception and
knowledge of the problems are dismissed as irrational (Chambers, 1983). Thus,
the agency-generating powers of defining the problems, explaining their causes,
and proposing remedies are denied to the respondents. There is no dialogue;
the ownership of the problem slips away from the people to the developer.
Industrial capitalism, the nation-state, and reason have shaped the modern
world. They have made possible the production of great wealth, longer life,
uncountable amenities, and freedoms from ancient tyrannies. Above everything
else, they have given us the opportunity for choice, perhaps the defining
Bhattacharyya 21
characteristic of modernity. But they have exacted a price in human solidarity

and agency.
As a field, community development is more concerned with the cost of
positivist reason even as it acknowledges the benefits. Just as it should resist the
homogenizing impulse of the nation-state, it should resist the tyranny of positivist
reason by affirming that reasons can be as varied as cultures. So, how should we
practice community development?
Self Help, Felt Needs, and Participation

Since the goal of community development is solidarity and agency, the
practice of community development must be guided by this goal. Communism
and capitalist modernization, the two grand movements of modern history,
promise human emancipation but as the end product. Despite fundamental
differences, both objectify people during the process (Berger, 1974; Freire,
1973). Agents of both know what is best for the people regardless of what the
people think. This is development imposed from above. Communism has been
debunked and development practices today show a greater recognition of the
need for people’s participation than before. But across the globe, the participatory
rhetoric notwithstanding, development practices generally remain conventional,
imposed from above. By contrast, echoing Freire (1973), community
development practice must regard people as agents (subjects) from the beginning.
And it is this that sets community development apart from other development
practices. In this sense, community development proposes an alternative politics,
a truly democratic politics – non-impositional, non-manipulative, and respectful
of the will of the people.
Three overlapping principles – self-help, felt needs, and participation – are
the appropriate methods for the practice of community development. The choice
of these methods is not arbitrary. As I elaborate on them later in the paper, they
seem to be appropriate and consistent with the goal of solidarity and agency.
Self-help builds and utilizes agency, mobilizes people’s cultural and material
assets (e.g., indigenous technical knowledge, tools, and labor), and most
importantly, avoids dependency. Felt needs (or demand) affirms human variation
and thus resists developmental imposition from above. Both of these principles
facilitate effective participation leading to agency and solidarity. Thus, more
than being pragmatically efficacious, they are also intrinsically important for the
growth of agency and solidarity, i.e., they ought to be practiced in their own
right. Secondly, as a formulation of method, the three principles are parsimonious.
They address the core concerns about agency and solidarity leaving open the
choice of techniques.
Thirdly, they have the backing of tradition. From its inception as a named
movement more than half a century ago these were the guiding principles adopted
by the U.S. International Cooperation Administration, the United Nations, the
Ashridge Conference, the Cambridge Conference, and numerous other organizations
and individuals (for a near exhaustive record of the concept’s formulations see
the University of Missouri’s Handbook of Community Development).“ To be
sure, neither the wordings nor the rationales used by these entities are identical,
but the principles as stated here, I believe, correctly represent them.
Self-Help
Self-help is the opposite of helpless dependency. It does not mean the denial
of inter-dependence or mutuality that is the very basis of social existence. The
principle rests on a concept of human beings that when healthy they are willing
and able to take care of themselves, to reciprocate, to be productive, more
predisposed to give than receive, are active rather than passive, and creative
rather than consuming (Fried, 1971). Human beings are homo faber, by nature
they like to be productive. They are agents. But there are people who by a variety
of causes have been rendered incapable of self-help. In some instances, the causes
are rooted in individual pathology. But when the loss of agency afflicts large
numbers of people or particular groups of people or is chronic, the causes are
located outside of the individuals, in public policy, in the structure of economic
and cultural opportunities (see Mills, 1959). The practice of self-help includes
collective effort to alter these debilitating structures in order to restore agency.
Freire (1973) distinguishes problem solving from problematizing. Problem
solving is the approach of conventional development practice. The problem to
be solved is defined by outsiders (the state, the development organization, for
example). The people whom the problem presumably affects have little role in
defining it. They may have a role in implementing the solution (by sweat equity or
matching funds, for example). By contrast, problematizing requires the people to
determine what the problem is, so that they “own” the problem, which is the first
necessary step for them to exert themselves for the solution. Problematizing is
agency-generating whereas problem solving reinforces the agency-less passivity.
As a method, self-help is similar to the educational philosophy of Dewey,
Piaget (1973), and Freire (1973) among many others. Proper education is agency-
giving. It teaches the methods of learning, with which the pupils can launch
ahead in the journey of creativity, as opposed to rote memorization or
dependency-generating knowledge -consumption, which is analogous to the
problem solving approach of conventional development practice.
Felt Needs
This principle, a complement to the principle of self-help, implies that
development projects should respond to people’s needs as they see them; they
should be demand-based. It ensures project relevance. It is agency-generating
because it recognizes and fosters people’s capacities to define and prioritize
their problems. Much conventional development work involves manipulating
the people to buy what the developer intends to sell. Responding to felt needs
can be an entry point for selling. But manipulation is inherently anti-agency –
Bhattacharyya 23
making people do what they would not willingly do. Since the project may not
“take,” it can also lead to resource waste with high opportunity costs. The
principle of felt needs is grounded on the premise that, given the knowledge
and other resources available to a people, all their cultural practices including
needs are rational (Vayda, 1983). The attempt to change a practice therefore
should begin with changing the material/knowledge resource base, changing
felt needs, and the experienced reality.
Participation
Participation is the most recognized of the three principles of community
development practice. Understood properly, it encompasses the principles of
self-help and felt needs. But commonly it is used in a narrow sense as in electoral
participation. Like self-help and felt needs, it is also used as an empty formula
or a device to promote people’s acceptance of goals already decided by the
development organization. This was the case, just to cite one example, with the
rhetoric of participation in the Great Society program during the Johnson
administration (Janowitz, 1978, Moynihan, 1969).
In its broadest sense, participation means taking part in the production of
collective meanings. People can be excluded from it in many ways, by silencing
a language, for example, or by overwhelming or de-legitimizing a culture, or
by instrumental reason. Language is the heart of a culture, the vital medium for
the production of collective meanings (Fishman, 1972), and its suppression has
been one of the most common characteristics in the formation of nation-states
(Anderson, 1983; Seton-Watson, 1977; Weber, 1976). In modern societies, the
production of culture – history, ideas, literature, music, technology, and
commodities of all sorts – is exclusionary (Braverman, 1974; Freire, 1973; Ranajit
Guha, 1983; Johnson et. al., 1982; Lamont & Fournier, 19924). Civilizations, in the
sense of Great Traditions (Redfield, 1955), such as Christianity or Islam, have
often de-legitimized cultures or Little Traditions (Niebuhr, 1951).
Similarly, positivist reason, pervasively embedded in the modern,
bureaucratized, society undermines cultural or practical reason. The public-
private distinction tends to disappear. The deep penetration of instrumental
reason opens up to conscious scrutiny what are culturally settled practices and
makes them contingent upon re-validation by instrumental reason. Every aspect
of life becomes public, exposed to control and manipulation by the state and the
market. This undermining of culture (meanings) finds its legitimation in the material
abundance produced by the application of positivist reason (Bernstein, 1985;
Foucault & Gordon, 1980; McCarthy, 1978; see also Baker & Reill (eds.), 2001).
Thus the principle of participation means inclusion, not merely in the
electoral process or endorsing decisions but in deciding the agenda for debate
and decision; it means inclusion in the processes of defining the problems to be
solved and how to solve them. At a more important level, it means countering
the domination and repression of positivist reason in its various manifestations
be it the state, the scientized politics, the industrial production process, or the
culture industry.
Together these three principles provide the necessary guidance for the
practice of community development. The people must have the opportunity to
own the problem by feeling and defining it, and also to apply their knowledge/
material resources for solving it. By acting as agents from the beginning, people
can regain or reaffirm their solidarity and their agency.
Community Development in Practice

Community development is being practiced by countless organizations, in
numerous countries with diverse political traditions, addressing a truly
astonishing variety of issues. Some of the organizations are small, stand-alone,
neighborhood groups. Some are affiliated to umbrella organizations (e.g., the
Industrial Areas Foundation, the Grameen Bank) that provide training in community
organizing, routine administration, sometimes loans and/or grants, and a larger
voice in regional and national politics. They are active in democratic countries
(e.g., the United States, the U.K., India), in transitional democracies (e.g., countries
of the old Soviet Union), and even in authoritarian countries (e.g., China).
Instead of describing exemplary cases of community development, which it is
impossible to do in such a brief space,5 I will point to some significant shifts in
thinking about various social problems. What has become obvious is that “local”
action, centered in neighborhoods and villages, is not adequate to the task of
finding enduring solutions to social problems. The local problems are local
manifestations of problems whose sources lie farther upstream. Community
development thus calls for simultaneous action at both micro and macro levels. This
is a tall order, but, as I illustrate below, such simultaneous actions are indeed happening.
Public Health
Perhaps the greatest change in thinking has been taking place in the field of
public health, what has been called a ‘paradigm drift’ (Campbell, 2000, p. 185)
away from the clinical epidemiological approach to the community development
approach. Instead of focusing on modifying individual behavior, the new method
focuses on the community and macro factors (Davis, Cohen, Baxi, & Cook,
2003). The typical approach to epidemics, such as HIV/AIDS, poliomyelitis,
obesity, or infantile pneumonia, is clinical epidemiological. It attacks the clinical
cause of the disease (the virus, the bacterium). Health care personnel administer
medicines or preventive inoculation. The health education component – radio
and television broadcasts, billboards, posters, group sessions, and school
curriculum – follows traditional teaching format, experts giving out information
to a passive audience. Such, for instance is the approach of the current WHO
programs against the resurgence of polio in certain countries, notably India. It
has also been the approach to HIV/AIDS in which case, in addition to medicines,
people were urged to practice safe sex and abstinence.
Bhattacharyya 25
The new thinking that is taking place has two related parts. One, there is
increasing recognition that the health status of a population depends not so
much on medical care as on the socioeconomic environment in which people
live and work. In the United States, health disparities are determined by macro
factors such as polluted residential area, poverty, lack of access to nutritious
food, safe streets or playgrounds, and the absence of community norms that
support healthful behavior (Acharya et al., 2003). To improve health, therefore,
requires strategies to alter the environment.
The second part, ‘the paradigm drift,’ calls for participation and
representation of local people in health programs (Campbell, 2000, pp. 182-
196). The ‘drift’ was initiated by the World Health Organization and endorsed
by a number of international declarations – the Alma-Ata Declaration of 1978,
the Ottawa Charter of 1986, and the Jakarta Declaration of 1997 (Campbell,
2000). The most effective tool against HIV/AIDS, for instance, has proved to
be community norms revitalized by community-based organizations (social
antibodies) (Epstein, 2003; Hansen, 2003; Singer et al., 1991; Bhattacharyya,
K. & J. Murray, 2000; Blum, H. L.; 1981, Frieden & Garfield, 1987; Madan,
1987; Nichter, 1984, 1989; Rifkin, 1981; Rifkin & Walt, 1986; Stone, 1992).
In each of these cases, the standard bureaucratic method of individual-
targeted healthcare was shunned for a community approach. The people were
not treated merely as carriers of disease, actual or potential. The diseases were
understood in their relation with broader socioeconomic contexts. The people
participated cognitively by understanding the disease and its causes, and, armed
with the understanding, in developing community norms and implementing the
programs. The successful programs have been those where micro and macro
level organizations have worked in tandem.
Violence
As in the case of health, the standard bureaucratic posture to violence targets
individuals, regarding it as a police, military, or behavior modification problem.
The preventive measures, therefore, have generally been reactive rather than
proactive – harsher punishment, more policing and more prisons, counseling.
The relatively few proactive programs, such as the federal Safe School/Healthy
Students program that was initiated in response to the Columbine School tragedy,
have relied on greater vigilance (e.g., metal detectors), more rigorous monitoring of
truancy, and more counseling (anger management, mediation). School personnel
(counselors, social workers) make home visits more frequently to discuss children’s
problem behaviors with parents or other care providers. But even such programs
have shown little readiness to formulate strategies to deal with the underlying
socioeconomic causes of violent behavior although such causes - the cumulative
effect of low SES, residential segregation by race, residential instability - have
been known for nearly a century (Acharya et al., 2003; Sampson, 2004 ).
After studying 343 neighborhoods in Chicago, Sampson (2004) has shown
how specifically those factors are related to neighborhood violence. The
immediate cause, he concludes, is the absence of neighborhood solidarity

(informal social controls or collective efficacy, not police and courts), “the
capacity of a group to regulate its members according to desired principles – to
realize collective as opposed to forced, goals.”
The implication of this finding for community development is far reaching.
Such solidarity is hard to achieve simply by neighborhood organizing. Solidarity
grows out of face-to-face relations and trust over time and that becomes available
with residential stability. Residential instability as well as the concentration of
disadvantages is linked to macro political economy, not easily amenable to
neighborhood solutions. Neighborhood organizing is necessary but without some
level of micro-macro coordination, it alone is unlikely to be sufficient. For
neighborhood solidarity to be achieved one needs to influence the policies of
the city, the state, and the nation on employment, housing, pollution, education,
police protection, and so on, as in the case of health.
Economic Development
The modernization movement over the last half-century or more has followed
the growth model: growth in gross national product. This model relies on top-
down decision-making, large scale enterprise by the state or the private sector,
and increased labor productivity. The result has been the creation of a permanent
underclass – unemployed, underemployed, or unemployable, ill educated and
ill nourished. An approach that is gaining the attention of policy makers is the
micro economic development model. The Ford Foundation has been an early
supporter, and in 1996, the World Bank sponsored a global micro credit summit,
and has since created a micro credit fund exceeding $50 million. The model is
built on the recognition that job growth is unlikely to keep up with the growth in
the number of underclass jobseekers. Its remarkable popularity amply
demonstrates that it has tapped into a huge reservoir of felt needs for economic
security and very poor people’s capacity of enterprise.
This model consists of innovative lending and entrepreneurship
development programs for people who are too poor to qualify for conventional
bank loans. The problem of poverty is not caused by the lack of effort or cultural
preference, as many believe, but by the unavailability of financial and
psychological capital and technical knowledge, and by macro social, political
and economic policies (sexism, racism, red-lining, urban bias). The micro credit
organizations furnish the capital, sometimes as little as $100, and, given the
characteristics of the population (chronic economic and social marginalization),
literacy and health education, skills training (such as bookkeeping), and other
support to generate self-help.
Prospective borrowers vouching for the initial borrower take care of the
problem of attachable collateral. Perhaps the best known example of this model
is the Grameen Bank. The model’s effectiveness is best evidenced by the fact
that it has been adopted in numerous countries with very different political
Bhattacharyya 27
economic systems, from China to the United States. (Ford Foundation, 1992).
But there are a hundred other organizations practicing a similar community
development approach to economic development: the Self Employed Women’s
Association (SEWA) in India, the Foundation for International Community
Assistance (FINCA), The Trickle Up Program (TUP), the Women’s World Bank,
the ACCION International, the Working Capital, and numerous others (Ford
Foundation, 1992; Aburdene & Naisbitt, 1992). They have created not only
hundreds of thousands of self employed people, but some degrees of power and
solidarity among historically marginalized people.6
Food
An interesting development in the United States in the last two decades is
the Community -Supported Agriculture (CSA), a concept that is a step up from
the farmers’ market. In the CSA, consumers commit to buy a share of the harvest.
According to Roosevelt (2003), the CSA movement began in Japan 30 years
ago and spread to Europe and the United States. From one CSA in Massachusetts
in 1986, the movement has grown to 1,200 farms with 1,000 families as members.
The impetus for CSA is only partly the desire for fresh food. (Currently, U.S.
grown produce travels 1500 miles and is 4-7 days old before reaching the
supermarket.) Partly it is the desire for food that has not been genetically
engineered and is free of pesticides and hormones.
But it is also a movement to create communities to recover the meaning of
food. According to Nestle (2002), the U.S. population buys nearly half its meals
prepared elsewhere, and is consuming more processed food, rather than locally
grown “whole” foods. Among those who cook at home, few do so from scratch.
There is a growing sense that large numbers of people have little control over
what and how they eat. Just ten corporations dominate the global food market.
Since 1960, the number of farms in the United States has declined from 3.2 million
to 1.9 million. Such consolidation under giant corporations has raised productivity
by 82 percent, but the corporations produce fewer crops, leading many varieties
to virtual extinction (Nabhan, 2002).7 People’s control over food is also
compromised by powerful marketing techniques of the food industry. In 1998,
for instance, the ten leading manufacturers of packaged food products spent
$8,228.5 million in advertising. Food and food service companies spend more
than $11 billion annually on direct media advertising. In 1999, McDonald’s
spent $627.2 million, Burger King $403.6 million, and Taco Bell $206.5 million on
direct media advertising (Nestle, 2002; Schlosser, 2002). Nearly 70 percent of
food advertising is for promoting the most highly processed, elaborately
packaged, and fast foods (Nestle, 2002).
The CSA movement along with farmers’ markets and local food coops is an
attempt to regain some control over food. It is restoring variety by bringing back
heritage seeds and poultry. By practicing organic farming, it is producing wholesome
food while protecting the environment. But it is more than that. “Even beyond
economics, community-supported agriculture is about something deeper: a sense of

common good uniting those who plant and those who eat.” (Roosevelt, 2003, p. 61).
An interesting example of micro-macro linkage is the emergence last April of
the National Cooperative Grocers Association consolidating the resources of 94
independent natural food co-ops with 111 retail locations. It has 400,000 member
owners, millions of consumers, and an annual sales volume of $626 million. This
is an excellent example of networking among food coops and independent organic
growers. Their national clout was evidenced by, among other development,
when the US Department of Agriculture last September finally issued the organic
certification procedure.
Similar examples could be provided from almost every area of social life.
But the few examples sketched above perhaps suffice to give a sense of how
community development is being practiced and the changes it is causing in
dealing with social problems.
Concluding Remarks
I have tried to present in these pages my vision of community development
– the pursuit of solidarity and agency. For context – the reason for community
development – I have focused on the corrosive effects of historical forces of
industrial capitalism, the nation-state, and positivist–reason as applied to human
affairs. None of these causes are likely to be transcended any time soon. They
are inter-active, and deeply entrenched in national and global political economy,
and in our habits of thought. Community development has to function – and it
is functioning – within this environment. Thus, community development
practitioners must address macro factors while working in microenvironments.
Local problems today are likely to be only local manifestations of larger
problems. This calls for political action, and networking among community
organizations to gain political clout.
I have maintained that we need to distinguish among goals, methods, and
techniques or tools. The various models of community development (conflict,
community self-study, locality development, social planning, etc.) deal with
techniques, as do community asset building programs. Techniques are the front
end, the most immediately relevant and crucially significant aspect of community
development. But they cannot – and should not – be ends in themselves. They
are tools to implement certain methods (such as, self-help, felt needs, and
participation), and as such, they must cohere and be consistent with the methods.
The methods in turn are significant only to the extent they help to create and
sustain a satisfying life, which I have defined as the acquisition of solidarity
and agency.
The purpose of this paper was to bound community development as a distinct
field. That distinction can be achieved, I have suggested, by adhering to the
goals of solidarity and agency together with certain methods that are consistent
with the goals which I have argued are self-help, felt needs, and participation.
Bhattacharyya 29
NOTES
1. I am indebted to Drs. Karabi Acharya, Sumita Bhattacharyya and Susan Maher, and to
Kakali Bhattacharya and Uttiyo Raychaudhuri, for help with different aspects of the paper. I
thank Dr. Ted Bradshaw, Dr. Ron Hustedde, Noemi Danao and other members of the Taughannock
Farms Inn Retreat for comments on an earlier incarnation of this paper and for the
encouragement to write this one. I also thank Marilu Carter for her assistance.
2. There is no single work that deals with the problem of agency in such diverse fields as
anthropology, history, literature, philosophy, political science, psychology, and sociology, and it
will take too much space to cite even the major works in each field. An overly simplified introduction
to some of the authors is W. Foster (1986). More scholarly sources are Lemert (1979), Giddens
(1984), and Wolin (1990). None of these works deals with literature, especially post-modernist
criticism, and on this there is no generally accessible overview; the interested reader may consult
Berman (1988) and Kellner (1989)
3. The disruption of regional cultures was also a blessing as it abolished slavery and extended
civil rights, once again illustrating the ambiguity of history.
4. See especially the articles in Part Two: High Culture and Exclusion, in Lamont and Fournier
(1992).
5. See the excellent collection of recent cases in Putnam and Feldstein (2003). The annual
Report and the quarterly Letter of the Ford Foundation commonly publish accounts of
community development from across the world.
6. For a critical assessment of the movement see Jonathan Morduch (1999).
7. The large industrial farms have made inroads in the fast growing organic food market
shipping organic produce to the U.S. from as far away as China and New Zealand (Roosevelt,
2003). The federal organic certification procedure released in September 2003 is too
cumbersome and time consuming for truck farmers that had initiated and sustained the
organic movement. The new label for locally grown organic foods is ecological.
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INVESTING IN COMMUNITIES:
SOCIAL CAPITAL’S ROLE IN KEEPING
YOUTH IN SCHOOL
By Glenn D. Israel and Lionel J. Beaulieu
ABSTRACT
Many community leaders view economic development as the primary strategy for improving social
well-being. One approach to economic development is enhancing the local labor force’s human
capital through formal education. In this article, we use a social capital framework to analyze how
local institutions, specifically families and schools, affect educational achievement among public
school students. We explore how social capital in the broader community context mediates the
effects of family and school social capital on keeping students in school. Using hierarchical linear
models to estimate these contributions, the results reaffirm the vital role of family social capital.
They also show that attributes of school and community social capital make important contributions
to staying in school. Our results suggest strategies that community development practitioners and
local leaders can use to enhance educational outcomes and, in turn, the economic vitality of
communities.
Keywords: staying in school, education, social capital, human capital, National

Educational Longitudinal Study (NELS), School District Data Book (SDDB), the
Common Core of Data (CCD), the National Center for Education Statistics
INTRODUCTION
Economic development remains an issue of paramount concern in many
communities across America. Such a focus seems sensible given the fact that
jobs, and the income generated from such employment, are critical to the well-
being of individuals, their families, and communities. Though globalization
has led to significant changes in many local economies, community well-being
also is linked to the development of a labor force with the knowledge and skills
necessary to operate in an increasingly complex work environment (Judy &
D’Amico, 1997).
Giving reason for pause is Robert Putnam’s (2000, p. 325) work, which
offers a compelling argument that economic prosperity is a product of extensive
positive networks of relationships among local people, firms, and institutions.
To Putnam, positive social networks represent the “social capital” of these
communities. According to Flora et al. (1992, p. 236), such social networks
represent one of three key components of community social infrastructure (the
This journal series paper R-10360 is part of Florida Agricultural Experiment Station Project FLA-
AEC-03957. Direct correspondence to Glenn Israel, University of Florida, PO Box 110540,
Gainesville, FL 32611-0540, or email the author at [email protected]. Glenn D. Israel, University
of Florida, and Lionel J. Beaulieu, Southern Rural Development Center.
others being the strength of local social institutions and the capabilities of the
community’s human capital resources). In this context, social infrastructure is
defined as the capacity and will for collective action, which provides for residents’
social and economic well-being (Flora et al., 1992, p. 234).
This article undertakes a unique examination of social infrastructure by
exploring the interplay of two of its dimensions in improving the vitality of its
third component. Specifically, we explore how the quality of relationships (i.e.,
social capital) existing within two important community institutions – the family
and schools – are useful in developing the human capital of local youth (as
measured by their propensity to stay in school). We also examine how
community-level aspects of social capital enhance the academic achievement
of youth beyond the contributions made by the family and school. We focus on
staying in school because high school completion is an early milestone on an
individual’s path to prosperity and civic engagement. It is well documented
that career earnings of high school dropouts are much lower than the earnings
of those who complete additional education, their dependence on a community’s
social services is higher, and participation in civic affairs is more limited
(Beaulieu & Barfield, 2000; President’s Council on Sustainable Development,
1996; Teitelbaum & Kaufman, 2002). Moreover, as the proportion of poorly-
educated residents increases, the greater is the ‘drag’ on community efforts to
develop its economy.
In the following sections, we describe key features of social capital.1 In
particular, we draw on Ken Wilkinson’s (1991) community field theory to
elaborate the structural and interactive elements of social capital, which are
present in families, schools, and communities, that shape the educational progress
of young people (Israel, Beaulieu, & Hartless, 2001; Smith, Beaulieu, & Israel,
1992; Smith, Beaulieu, & Seraphine, 1995). Using the sample of public school
students from the National Education Longitudinal Survey (NELS), we assess
the relative importance of family, school, and community social capital in helping
students stay in school. Our study is one of the first in-depth analyses to measure
the unique contributions of each component on keeping youth in school. Finally,
we discuss important implications of our findings for advancing the economic
and social welfare of American communities.
FAMILY SOCIAL CAPITAL

The term family social capital represents the norms, social networks, and
relationships between parents and children that are valuable for children while
they are growing up (Coleman, 1990, p. 334). Family structure and resources
affect the extent of social capital. Among the structural attributes of the family
that can influence the amount of social capital are the presence of one or both
parents in the home and the number of siblings (Israel et al., 2001). These
attributes affect the opportunity for interpersonal interactions between parents
and children, and shape the frequency and duration of such interactions (Smith
Israel and Beaulieu 37
et al., 1995). For example, opportunities for uninterrupted interaction between

a parent and a child tend to decline as the number of siblings increases (Downey,
1995). In addition, family income and educational attainment of parents
represent important resources that can influence a child’s academic aspirations
and success. That is, the greater the socioeconomic resources present in a home,
the better the academic performance and school completion rates of students
(Downey, 1995; Israel et al., 2001; Teachman, Paasch, & Carver, 1997). The
number of siblings who have dropped out of high school also can indicate other
disadvantages within the family.
Interactive social capital is found in the scope and quality of a parent’s
relationship with his or her children. Interactive elements of family social capital
include parents’ nurturing activities, such as helping children with their
homework, discussing important school activities with them, and expressing
high educational aspirations for them (Downey, 1995; Teachman et al., 1997).
It also embraces constraining activities, such as limiting television viewing,
providing adult supervision when the children return from school, and monitoring
homework (McNeal, 1999). Once the “ground rules” of expectations and
obligations for parents and children are established, later activities are based on
the knowledge of what each will do. Thus, when parents express high educational
aspirations for the student, both are likely to act in other ways that are consistent
with this verbal behavior. For example, a family with high educational
expectations will choose to spend more family time on activities that support
learning (e.g., recreational reading and associated conversations on the content)
while another family with lower expectations will spend less time.
The linkage between family social capital and academic achievement can
be moderated by geography. For example, rural families are more likely than
urban families to have “traditional” family arrangements, in which both mother
and father are present. Rural families also tend to be larger (Fuguitt, Brown, &
Beale, 1989), have a larger number of members with limited education, and
have incomes that fall below the poverty line (Rural Sociological Society, 1993).
These structural factors can affect the quality and quantity of parent-child
interaction and, in turn, children’s academic achievement and aspirations
(Beaulieu & Israel, 1997; Israel et al., 2001; Smith et al., 1995).
SCHOOL SOCIAL CAPITAL 2

Achievement among school-aged children in America also stems from
variability in the nature of the schools they attend (Neisser, 1986). Much of that
variability is tied to the school structure and resources. Key attributes include
the composition of the student body, the size and resource base of the school, and
the nature of the climate evident in the school and classroom (such as the value
placed on learning, norms for student behavior, and the existence of an orderly
learning environment) (Stockard & Mayberry, 1992). As such, these factors can
either facilitate or impede the emergence of interactive social capital in the school.
Composition of Enrolled Students

Schools whose students are drawn from high socioeconomic status families
are more likely to realize higher achievement (Coleman et al., 1966). The reasons
offered for this outcome are varied. For one, students attending higher SES
schools are more likely to establish friendships with individuals having solid
academic habits and high educational aspirations (Stockard & Mayberry, 1992).
Second, they are more likely to interact with adults who serve as positive role
models (Kupersmidt et al., 1995). And third, higher SES schools are likely to
be found in communities that make quality education a priority and invest greater
resources in schools (Friedkin & Neocochea, 1988). Closely related to the
socioeconomic context of the school are the race and ethnic composition. That
is, a sizable concentration of minority students has been associated with lower
levels of educational achievement (Caldas & Bankston, 1999; Sun, 1999; see
Lee & Smith, 1996 for contrary findings).
School Size and Resources

School size is a feature that has created considerable controversy. Some
researchers assert that larger schools are more effective since they can provide a
more varied program for their students (Ballou & Podgursky, 1998; Greenberg
& Teixeira, 1998). Others suggest that smaller schools often have lower student-
teacher ratios, teachers can pay closer attention to the needs of students, and,
consequently, have higher academic performance (Greenwald, Hedges, & Laine,
1996; Gregory & Smith, 1987; Hobbs, 1995; Lee & Smith, 1996; Sher, 1988;
Walberg & Fowler, 1987). Increased school size has been linked to greater
absenteeism, lower academic performance, lower participation in school activities,
and lower high school completion (Rossi & Daugherty, 1996; Sher, 1988; Walberg
& Fowler, 1987; see Anderman & Kimweli, 1997 for contrary findings).
The level of financial resources provided to the school is another attribute
that can affect educational achievement (Greenwald et al., 1996; Mortimore,
Sammons, Stoll, et al., 1988; Wenglinsky, 1997). Higher per student
expenditures can pay for improved facilities, a wider variety of programs and
activities, and more skilled faculty. Schools located in impoverished
communities (many of these are located in rural areas) are likely to have
facilities that are poorly maintained or crowded, obsolete laboratories and
computers, and poorly-paid teachers. Though some researchers have not found
a relationship between expenditures and achievement, others have uncovered
a significant link when expenditures are targeted to programs for specific
students (Arum, 1998; Stockard & Mayberry, 1992).
School Climate
Students embedded in an environment where teachers’ expectations
for, and support of, academic performance is high tend to perform better
academically (Hoffer, Greeley & Coleman, 1987; Lee & Smith, 1996; Rutter,
Maughan, Mortimore & Ouston, 1979). Furthermore, the presence of orderly

environments in the school and the classroom suggests that students excel in a
milieu where norms of behavior are well articulated and where problem behaviors
on the part of students are kept low (Anderman & Kimweli, 1997; Bryk, Lee, &
Holland, 1993; Parcel & Dufur, 2001; Rutter et al., 1979). In a school with a
negative climate, more students have multiple behavioral incidents and
disciplinary actions. Because their needs are not being met, these behavior
problems contribute to poor academic performance and, in turn, dropping out
(Battin-Pearson, Newcomb, Abbott et al., 2000; Garnier, Stein, & Jacobs, 1997).
School Interactive Social Capital

Interactive social capital in the school is reflected in the interest that teachers
(and others in the school) demonstrate in the welfare of students, such as engaging
students in school programs and activities that make effective use of their time
and energy. Involvement in school organizations helps immerse students in
environments where positive social relationships with adults and peers can occur
and where important life skills can be learned (Lerner, 1995). Students who are
involved in school activities and assume positions of responsibility often feel a
greater sense of integration in the school and, as a consequence, thrive
academically (Flinn & Rock, 1997). Interactive social capital also is represented
in positive teacher/student interactions and nurturing activities provided by
teachers. Students who perceive teachers as caring, and who see these individuals
as role models, might be more motivated to succeed in school (Noddings, 1988;
Werner & Smith, 1989).
The level of parental investment in school-related organizations, such as
parent-teacher organizations and booster groups, also represents important
elements of school social capital. Irrespective of family SES, students whose
parents are involved in their schools perform better in their academic courses
and are less likely to drop out of high school (Eccles & Harold, 1993; McNeal,
1999; Parcel & Dufur, 2001; Stevenson & Baker, 1987; Walberg, 1984).
Likewise, contact with teachers and administrators can help parents to monitor
their child’s activities and provide mutual support with other adults in the school.
COMMUNITY SOCIAL CAPITAL

Field theory (Wilkinson, 1991) provides a basis for understanding the role
of community social capital in educational achievement. From this perspective,
people “should not only be able to but frequently do act together on the common
concerns of life” (Kaufman, 1959, p. 9). When residents work to improve the
local economy, provide human and social services, and express local cohesion
and solidarity, community social capital can accumulate as networks involving
weak ties (Grannovetter, 1973) or bridging relationships (Flora et al., 2004;
Putnam, 2000) are engaged. A pattern of community activeness builds social
capital in that the networks developed during recent activities can be re-activated
or expanded for new community efforts to address educational or other local

needs. Similarly, relationships developed in ongoing activities of community-
oriented groups are the basis for mobilizing local residents to address other
issues of common interest and concern. Localities with high community social
capital are marked by extensive civic engagement and patterns of mutual support
(Putnam, 2000).3
Community Structure and Resources

Structural attributes that can influence the accumulation of community social
capital include socioeconomic capacity, proximity, and stability (Israel et al.,
2001; Wilkinson, 1991). These shape opportunities for emergence of the
community field and facilitate interactions between youths and adults at the
local level.
Socioeconomic Capacity
Localities large enough to support the variety of associations for meeting
most daily needs have greater access to outside resources and greater structural
differentiation for dealing with an array of community issues (Luloff & Wilkinson,
1979). Structural differentiation increases adaptive capacity because people
with the expertise and experience needed to address a particular issue, including
the generation of human capital, are present in the organizational structure of
the community.
The socioeconomic capacity of rural areas has lagged behind that of suburban
and urban areas. Lower-skilled, low-paying production jobs have been
concentrated in rural areas, while more highly skilled managerial and technical
positions have clustered in urban places (Hobbs, 1995; Jensen & McLaughlin,
1995). The local labor market is critical because the availability of well-paying
jobs is likely to increase individuals’ desire to stay in school and pursue post-
secondary education (Stallmann et al., 1995). Low-capacity rural towns, where
educational attainment, income levels, and job skills are lower, can develop a
milieu that does not place a high priority on education. This may reduce rural
students’ educational achievement and aspirations relative to those of urban and
suburban students (Cobb, McIntyre, & Pratt, 1989; Paasch & Swaim, 1998;
Smith et al., 1995).4
Integrative Structures
Proximity, stability, and equality increase a community’s interactive social
capital by facilitating opportunities for relationships that contribute to structural
integration, through which specialized resources may be mobilized (Luloff &
Wilkinson, 1979). Physical proximity can increase the interaction necessary for
building community bonds among residents (Wilkinson, 1991). Residential
stability also can facilitate local relationships because long-term residents have
more opportunities to develop relationships that help to coordinate community
activities and build social capital (Putnam, 2000). Finally, equality, with regard
to income and education, can reduce social cleavages that affect the quality of
interaction (Blau, 1994). Durable cleavages in community affairs can cause
residents to become alienated, reduce participation in local affairs, and fragment
collective action. One outcome of high inequality is that little social capital is
available to promote local education.
Community Interactive Social Capital

Interactive social capital of the community can be described at two levels
(Israel et al., 2001). First, extensive community social capital is characterized
by large numbers of actors, inclusiveness of interests represented, and widespread
involvement in decision making and implementation. Activities conducive to
educational achievement include campaigns urging voters to pass initiatives that
improve facilities such as schools, sports arenas, and community centers, creating
programs for youths and activities that involve students in community projects.
Second, at the individual level, relationships among adults and youths are
demonstrated by adult residents’ interest in the welfare of other people’s children
and efforts by individuals and organizations to engage children in activities that
make effective use of their time and energy (Beaulieu & Israel, 1997; Coleman
& Hoffer, 1987; Smith et al., 1995). A student’s involvement in either religious
or non-religious (e.g., 4-H, boys’ and girls’ clubs, sports programs) organizations
facilitates relationships with peers and adults. Collectively, these provide a
support system to a student beyond that offered by the family. On the other
hand, children who move frequently have relationships disrupted, and they are
hampered in establishing long-term relationships with individuals in the
community (Smith et al., 1995).
Based on the above discussion, we explore whether interactive social capital
existing in the family, school, and community has positive effects on youth staying
in school.
METHODOLOGY
The analysis is based on data collected as part of the National Educational
Longitudinal Study (NELS) conducted by the National Opinion Research Center
on behalf of the National Center for Education Statistics. The initial survey,
conducted in 1988, involved a stratified national probability sample of more
than 1,052 schools. A sample of eighth grade pupils was surveyed from each of
these schools, yielding a total of 24,599 usable responses. Students provided
information on individual and family characteristics, school experiences, and
participation in extracurricular activities. Information from parent, teacher, and
school surveys were linked to the student surveys.
Additional data from the School District Data Book (SDDB) and the
Common Core of Data (CCD) files developed by the National Center for
Education Statistics were linked with the NELS data using geographic codes
included in the restricted version of NELS. We also merged 1990 census data
describing community-level attributes, county typology codes from the
Economic Research Service, and voter participation data from the Inter-
University Consortium for Political and Social Research with the NELS data.
Though the hierarchy of school, school district, and county differ across states,
we treated these as a single level in our analysis.
This study also was limited to public school students because we wanted to
assess variations that might exist in tax-supported schools located in different
places. After selecting students having data on the variables of interest, the
analysis included 9,764 students enrolled in 729 public schools located in 478
counties. We used weights to adjust for over sampling of policy-relevant strata
(Ingels et al., 1998).
Measurement of Variables
The dependent variable, staying in high school, was a binomial variable.5
Because academic performance mediates the influence of family, school, and
community factors on staying in school (Battin-Pearson et al., 2000; Garnier et
al., 1997), two variables, a composite score based on standardized math and
reading tests and the average of grades in four subject matter areas, were included.
A variable was included to assess what Coleman (1988) labeled the
“traditional disadvantages” of background. Given that blacks are more likely
than whites to leave school and that females are less likely to attend college,
race/ethnicity and gender combinations were included in the analysis (Ekstrom
et al., 1986; Smith et al., 1995).
Five measures of family structure and resources were included: family
income, whether a parent had a college education, parental structure of the family,
the number of siblings, and the number of siblings who have dropped out of
high school. The measures of family interactive social capital were two nurturing
activities (parents express expectations to the child about attending college;
child discusses school matters with parents) and a monitoring activity (how
much parents limit TV viewing). These variables have shown strong effects on
educational outcomes in earlier studies (Downey, 1995; Israel et al., 2001;
McNeal, 1999; Teachman et al., 1997).
The structural and resource measures for schools included enrollment, per
student expenditures, whether students attended a school with a high minority
percentage (over 30%), and school climate, as indicated by an emphasis on
academics and a rating of problems at the school. A four-item index was
developed to measure the extent of emphasis on academics in the school while
an 11-item index was created to measure the extent of problems.
Two measures of school interactive social capital were the number of clubs
in which a student was involved and the amount of discussion between a student
and his/her teachers. Students who are involved in school activities thrive
academically (Flinn & Rock, 1997), while those who require frequent monitoring
and corrective instructions are less likely to stay in school. In addition, three
variables were included to measure parental engagement with schools –

involvement in a PTO, participation in other school organizations, and the level
of parents’ contact with the school concerning academics, discipline, fund raising,
and other activities. Students whose parents are involved in their schools are
less likely to drop out of high school (McNeal, 1999; Parcel & Dufur, 2001;
Teachman et al., 1997).
Following Israel et al. (2001), the community structure and resource
attributes included measures of socioeconomic capacity, proximity, and stability.
Socioeconomic capacity is a composite measure based on six highly interrelated
indicators. Low capacity is indicated by lower levels of employment diversity,
such as in a one-industry town, where most people possess similar skills and
experiences. This situation can constrain residents’ capacity to address a broad
range of community activities (Zekeri, Wilkinson, & Humphrey, 1994).
Proximity was measured with a county typology (metro core, other metro,
adjacent non-metro, and non-adjacent non-metro) (Butler & Beale, 1994). Non-
adjacent nonmetro counties have lower population densities and are remote
from resources, thereby inhibiting the formation of weak ties. Stability was
measured as the county’s mean number of years a householder has lived in the
current place of residence. When persons establish a long residence, they are
more likely to have developed social bonds, participated in community affairs,
and developed a pro-community sentiment (Goudy, 1990).
The measures for community interactive social capital focused on the extent
of students’ integration in the community.6 We included three measures: the
number of times a student had changed schools since first grade, the student’s
participation in a religious group, and the number of community organizations
in which the student has been involved.7 Children who move frequently are less
likely to stay in school, and those who participate in religious or non-religious
organizations are more likely to stay in school (Coleman, 1988; Israel et al.,
2001; Teachman et al., 1997).
Analysis
Hierarchical linear models (HLMs) were used to estimate contributions of
family, school, and community social capital to helping students stay in school.
We employed a generalized linear mixed models (GLMMs) methodology to
estimate a model for the dichotomous dependent variable, staying in school.
GLMMs are used for modeling binomial and poisson responses using random
effects and/or correlation structures. GLMMs are estimated like HLMs but
require iteration of the mixed model’s estimation procedure (Wolfinger &
O’Connell, 1993).
The model was specified to estimate parameters for two levels: student and
school/community (because students were nested within the school/community
context). The model was also designed to delineate clearly the role of community
proximity (e.g., metro core, other metro, etc.) in shaping the likelihood of a
student staying in school. In this situation, community proximity acted as a
mediating variable in our analysis, suggesting that family, school, and community
attributes might vary across geographic areas. As such, the chances of a young
person remaining in school could differ across metro/nonmetro areas. When no
significant variation in parameters was found to exist across the four community
types, the parameters were constrained to be equal. The resulting parsimonious
model helped to show when community location was found to have a statistically
important mediating effect.
RESULTS
We found that approximately 16 percent of students dropped out of school
between the eighth and twelfth grades in the analytic sample. Tables 1 and 2
present results for the logistic regression of the dependent variable –staying in
school – on the independent variables. As expected, academic performance, as
measured by the eighth grade test score and grade point average, had a positive
influence on staying in school (Table 1). Including academic performance
variables reduced the effect of many family background and family social capital
variables on staying in school when compared with a model excluding the two
performance measures (data not shown). This finding supports the view that
performance is an intervening factor in explaining dropout behavior. Contrary
to expectation, African American males were more likely than other male students
(whites and Asians) to stay in school.8 Female Hispanics were most likely to
drop out, followed by other females.
The results are consistent with previous research, which has shown that
family characteristics have powerful influences on educational achievement.
For example, children whose mother or father attended college were more likely
to stay in school. Likewise, remaining in school tended to be higher among
children from more affluent families. In keeping with earlier research (Beaulieu
& Israel, 1997; Israel et al., 2001; Smith et al., 1995), family structure had some
influence on staying in school. However, the presence of two parents versus
one parent in the household did not prove to be a significant factor for staying in
school. Rather, youth living in other types of families (i.e., a parent and guardian,
grandparent, or other adults in the family) were the most prone to dropping out.
Students with one or more siblings who have already dropped out of school also
were less likely to stay in school. This suggests that a weak family environment
can be a major barrier to the academic progress for youth.
Attributes of family interactive social capital are important in shaping a
child’s academic performance. We found that students were more likely to stay
in school if a parent expressed expectations for obtaining a college degree (as
compared to a high school diploma or not completing high school), if they
discussed school programs with their parents, and if parents placed limits on the
amount of time that the child was allowed to watch television. The large positive
effect of parents’ expectations for going to college was reduced in families with
a larger number of siblings, which probably reflects the increasing difficulty of
financing college for each additional child. The positive effects associated with
parent-child conversations about school appeared to produce greater benefits for
those children whose parent(s) had no college education than it did for students
with at least one parent who attended college. While this finding would appear to
run counter to expectation, such discussions were less likely to occur among students
with non-college educated parents in our data. So, when such interactions did
take place, they produced greater benefits for children of these less educated parents.
Table 1. Regression Coefficients Showing the Effect of Family Structure,

Resources, and Interactive Social Capital and Individual’s Background on
Staying in School
——— Staying in School ———
Explanatory Variable Parameter Estimate P-value
Intercept -5.922
Individual’s Background
Student’s composite test score in 8th grade .033 .000
Student’s grade point average .828 .000
Gender and Race/ethnicity
Female - Black .130 .338
Female - Hispanic -.364 .011
Female - Other (includes white, non-Hispanics) -.222 .003
Male - Black .394 .005
Male - Hispanic .191 .198
Male - Other (includes white, non-Hispanics) .000 .---
Family Structure & Resources
At least one parent has a college education .544 .001
Family income .006 .000
Family structure:
Other than 1 or 2 parents -.639 .000
Single parent -.060 .443
Two parent .000 .---
Number of siblings .045 .354
Sibling(s) dropped out of school -.241 .000
Family Interactive Social Capital
How often parents limit TV time .177 .000
How far parent(s) expect child to go in school .477 .000
How far parent(s) expect * Number of siblings -.066 .001
Discuss school plans with parent(s) .351 .000
Discuss school * Parent has a college education -.310 .011
Table 2 reports on the role that schools play in helping young people stay in
school. The number of students enrolled in the school had a modest positive net
effect on staying in school. Per student expenditures had a small impact on
staying in school, but only for low minority enrollment (less than 30 percent)
schools. Although schools having an emphasis on academic achievement

increased the chances of child staying in school, the effects were larger and
significant for low minority but not for high minority schools. Contrary to
expectation, the extent of school problems had a significant positive net effect
on staying in school, most notably for students attending schools with high
minority enrollments. We speculate that at-risk students might be placed in a
dropout prevention program or an alternative high school, whereby more
resources are provided to help at-risk students.
Several interactive social capital variables were significant at the school
level. Students whose parents were involved in a parent-teacher organization
(more so in low minority schools) or other school organization were more likely
to stay in school. It is likely that this type of parental involvement fosters
student-parent and teacher-parent relationships and helps the student stay
engaged in school. On the other hand, in cases where the parent contacted the
school, these interactions had a negative effect on staying in school. This likely
reflects instances where parental contacts were precipitated by the student’s
disciplinary or academic problems. Likewise, the frequency of teacher-student
conversations outside the classroom also had a negative effect on staying in
school. Surprisingly, the degree of involvement in student organizations had a
negative effect on remaining in school, but the impact was relatively small.
With regard to community structure and resources, the net influence of
socioeconomic capacity was modest and positive. A second structural factor,
average years in the current home, also had a positive effect on staying in school.
This suggests that communities having higher residential stability might also
provide networks that support completion of high school. The community
structural attributes exert a significant net influence on students’ staying in school,
and one important component is community proximity, which moderates the
effect of other community and school attributes.9
Three measures of community interactive social capital were influential on
staying in school. Students who had made several moves from one school to
another since entering the first grade were far less likely to stay in school than
children with few or no moves during this time period. Repeated moves appear
to inhibit opportunities for children and parents to develop relationships with
people and organizations outside the family. After each move, individuals need
time to establish new relationships in the destination community (Putnam, 2000).
Involving youths in a religious group also had a positive effect on staying in school
but participating in one to three other youth organizations increased the likelihood
of dropping out (compared to participating in four or more organizations).
The cumulative effects of interactive social capital are illustrated in Table 3
using predicted probabilities for staying in school.10 For the purposes of this
illustration, resources encompass the background attributes of individuals (i.e.,
race, gender, academic performance) as well as the structural components of the
family, school, and community. Interactive social capital includes the combined
effects of the family, school, and community measures.
Table 2. Regression Coefficients Showing the Effect of School and Community
Structure, Resources, and Interactive Social Capital on Staying in School
——— Staying in School ———

Explanatory Variable Parameter Estimate P-value
School Structure & Resources

Number of enrolled students (00s) .028 .008
Core expenditures per student (000s)
Less than 30% minority enrollment at school .160 .006
30% or more minority enrollment at school -.054 .413
Emphasis on academics
30% or more minority enrollment at school .331 .167
Extent of school problems
Less than 30% minority enrollment at school -.095 .589
30% or more minority enrollment at school 1.067 .000
Student’s parents contact the school -.256 .002
Parents involved in parent-teachers organization
30% or more minority enrollment at school .085 .082
Parents involved in other school organizations .277 .003
How much student talks with teacher outside class -.062 .004
Number of organizations that student is involved -.026 .029
Community Structure & Resources
Community socioeconomic capacity .109 .029
Average years in current home .067 .000
Number of moves since first grade -.246 .000
Child is involved in a religious group .251 .000
Number of non-school groups that child is involved -.057 .037
a
Differences based on minority enrollment at the school were tested for all variables. Only
significant parameters are shown.
Using this approach, the impact of social capital is striking. In the case of
high resources and high interactive social capital, virtually every student is
expected to stay in school. When you examine students who are embedded in
low resource and high interactive social capital environments, the proportion
staying in school remains high. Students are much less likely to stay in school
when resources are high and interactive social capital is low. This pattern is
most evident among Hispanics. Only half of the students are predicted to stay in
school when both resources and interactive social capital are low.
If we disaggregate the interactive social capital effects, we find that the
variables associated with family social capital processes are approximately 1˚
times more powerful than those associated with the school or community.
However, when family interactive social capital is low, the combination of school
and community interactive social capital generates a large, positive effect on
staying in school. As such, the data outlined in Table 3 offer a compelling
illustration of how social capital, when present and actively exercised by families,
schools, and communities, can make a sizable contribution to promoting the
academic progress of high school students.
Table 3. Predicted Probability of Staying in School for Selected Student Profiles. a

Student Profile High Minority School Low Minority School
High Resources & High Interactive Social Capital

Female - Black 98.3% 99.7%
Female - Hispanic 97.3% 99.5%
Female - Other 97.6% 99.6%
Male - Black 98.7% 99.8%
Male - Hispanic 98.4% 99.7%
Male - Other 98.1% 99.6%
Low Resources & High Interactive Social Capital
Male - Black 97.6% 98.5%
Male - Other 96.4% 97.8%
High Resources & Low Interactive Social Capital
Male - Black 74.5% 89.6%
Male - Other 66.3% 85.3%
Low Resources & Low Interactive Social Capital
Male - Black 59.5% 56.5%
Male - Other 49.8% 46.7%
a
Predicted probabilities were calculated for metro core, other metro, adjacent non-metro, and non-
adjacent nonmentro communities. Since the differences among community types were relatively
small, these are not shown.
CONCLUSIONS
America’s community leaders continue to face challenges to enhance
residents’ economic and social well-being. Though many leaders place a high
priority on economic development activities, the long-term economic health of
a community rests, in part, on the presence of a dynamic social infrastructure.
This, in turn, depends on the presence of people with strong human capital
attributes. Communities can build their human capital resources by ensuring the
educational progress of local youth. However, promoting the educational
achievement of young people cannot be realized without a deliberate effort to
build strong linkages among families, schools, and communities. Such networks
translate into direct benefits for local youth and strengthen the community as a
whole.
In this article, we examined an issue that can illustrate how community
leaders might fare with efforts to create a pool of high-quality workers. We have
explored how the strength of social capital present in the family and school, and
in the community in which these two institutions are embedded, might promote
the educational progress of local youth. The capacity to keep youth in school
serves as an early marker of the human capital resources that might be available
in the future to support the community’s economic development initiatives.
Our study supports the view that the academic success of young people
stands on a three-legged stool – families, schools, and communities. We have
reaffirmed the key role of parental socioeconomic status (SES) in shaping their
children’s educational achievement. Children having well-educated parents, for
example, often excel academically and stay in school. At the same time, when
youth are provided with a nurturing environment and guided with regard to
acceptable behaviors, they make significant educational progress (irrespective
of their family’s SES). In fact, when interactive social capital is extensive, our
results show that nearly all students can be expected to stay in school (irrespective
of resource levels). Dropout rates are predicted to be higher when high resources
are not accompanied by high interactive social capital.
Our findings also make a compelling case that local leaders must stay attuned
to the needs of family and children who have moved several times. We found
that children who have experienced few, if any, moves since the first grade and
youth who participate in a religious group tend to stay in school. This suggests
that access to adults outside the immediate family has a positive effect on these
students, as does the stability of living in a locality for a long period without
interruption by a physical move to another school or community. Given the
mobility of America’s population, community and school leaders must find new
ways to help integrate new residents into the community and engage new students
into the life of their schools.
This study also validates findings that schools shape educational outcomes.
Having resources available matters and expanding per pupil expenditures can
result in modest increases in staying in school. Educational leaders should,
however, carefully consider how added resources might be used. Reducing

student-teacher ratios might seem like a reasonable strategy, but our results
suggest that investing new revenues to expand parental involvement might be
more fruitful for keeping students in school. This suggests that community
development (CD) practitioners might play a key role in helping schools to
build relationships with more parents. Specific initiatives could include
coordinating training and services for parents in conjunction with activities for
students at the school. For example, CD practitioners can recruit Cooperative
Extension’s county-based staff to collaborate on providing training to enhance
skills for parents and teachers. Such programs can bolster parent-child
communications, raise parent’s educational aspirations for the child, and teach
how to curb behaviors that inhibit academic progress. Likewise, these programs
can help teachers learn how to work with parents who are in a different cultural,
economic, or social group. CD practitioners also might work with school leaders
to initiate a grant application to fund a parent resource center at a school and
recruit civic organizations to staff this center. Clearly, efforts to enhance the
capacity of families to promote their children’s educational achievement should
be viewed as a legitimate community development strategy.
Efforts to broaden the involvement of adults and community organizations
in other aspects of the lives of local youth also must be part of an action plan.
CD practitioners might work with schools to develop community service-learning
projects of interest to parents, students, and teachers that foster relationships
outside of the classroom. Community service-learning includes a wide array of
projects, such as community visioning or asset mapping, youth entrepreneurship,
and delivery of services to elders or peers, that can demonstrate for youth how
to engage in civic affairs, enhance integration of new students, and help address
a local need (see, for example, Israel, Ilvento & Stringfellow, 1996). A
community-wide, multi-faceted effort using this approach can enhance the
academic success of local youth.
The strategies noted above are only a sample of the activities that can
contribute to building social capital. While not all communities are equally
equipped with the capacity to pursue these various approaches, there is no doubt
that positive outcomes will unfold whenever there is a collective commitment
by families, schools and communities to work in partnership to help young
people stay and succeed in school. At the same time, the social capital that is
accumulated as a result of helping youth stay in school may very well serve as
an important foundation for addressing other important issues that may be
impacting the social and economic vitality of these communities.
NOTES
1. While many have discussed this concept, our work primarily drew on and evolved from
Coleman and associate’s research on education (Coleman 1988; 1990; Coleman & Hoffer, 1987;
Hoffer, Greeley, & Coleman 1987). Coleman (1988) described social capital as existing in
relationships that are used for productive activities (e.g., students’ education) and these relationships
usually entail expectations and obligations with context-specific fungibility. Furthermore, social
structure, either in the closure and completeness of networks or their fragmentation, can facilitate
or inhibit, respectively, social capital formation.
2. We discuss school social capital in depth for this article because it has received less
attention. Our earlier published work focused on both family and community social capital.
3. Social capital also can accumulate within a local group or organization, and thus can be
used to further the group’s particular interests, sometimes to the detriment of others in the community
(Wall, Ferrazzi, & Schryer, 1998).
4. Many rural communities cannot fully capture the benefits of their investments in children
because many leave the community upon graduation from high school (Hobbs, 1995). This creates
a disincentive for rural communities (because urban and suburban areas benefit from their
investments) but it does not negate the need for such investments.
5. Appendix A details the coding scheme for each variable in this study.
6. Measures of community-wide social networks were not available.
7. We assumed that participation in religious and non-religious groups involved youth in
positive relationships with adults and peers but no information about the quality of these relationships
was available.
8. This effect is net of all other variables. Black males were less likely to stay in school than
other males (83 and 89 percent stayed in school, respectively) in the bivariate relationship.
9. Community proximity was positively associated with socio-economic capacity, school
size, per pupil expenditures, and the probability that a school has a high minority percentage, but
negatively associated with length of residence (data not shown). Though proximity showed little
net effect on staying in school, the uneven distribution of the other variables among community
types cannot be ignored.
10. The predicted probabilities were calculated for each student profile using the parameter
estimates from Tables 1 and 2 and appropriate values for each variable in the model. Details are
available from the senior author.
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APPENDIX
Appendix Table A. Variables Used in the Analysis, Variable Names and Data
Source, Measurement, and Descriptive Statistic
Mean or
Variable and Sourcea Coding Scheme Percent
Stay in school (F2EVDOST) 0 = student dropped out during 83.4%
first or second follow-up; 1 = never
dropped out
Student’s Background
Standardized math and reading Entire base year sample has mean 50.677
composite score (BYTXCOMP) at 50 and standard deviation of 10
Base year grades (BYGRADS) Mean of four subject area grades 2.897
placed on 0.0 to 4.0 scale (4.0 = A)
Gender by race/ethnicity (RACE) Factor with six levels:
Female - Black 6.1%
Female - Hispanic 4.7%
Female - Other (inc. white,
non-Hispanics) 38.8%
Male - Black 5.6%
Male - Hispanic 4.4%
Male - Other (inc. white,
non-Hispanics) 40.4%
Family Structure and Resources

Family income (BYFAMINC) Linear and quadratic terms,
in units of $1,000 and centered
on group mean .686
Parents’ education (BYPARED) 1= at least one has a college
education; 0 = none 69.4%
Number of siblings (BYP32) Range of 0 = none to 6 = six or more 2.290
Number of siblings dropped out
of school (BYP6) Range of 0 = none to 6 = six or more .164
Family structure (BYFCOMP) Factor with three levels:
Living with 2 parents 79.1%
Living with a single parent 17.8%
Other, including one parent
and guardian 3.2%
Family Interactive Social Capital

Discuss school matters with Mean response to students’ 1.382
parent(s) (BYS36A-C) and parents’ discussion of:
1) school programs, 2) school
activities, and 3) things studied
in class; each item ranged from
0 to 2. [Cronbach’s alpha = .61]
Source, Measurement, and Descriptive Statistic (con’t)
Mean or
How far parent(s) expect child Range of 0 = drop out of
to go in school (BYP76) school to 4 = complete a
graduate or professional
degree (treated as interval-level) 2.640
How often parent(s) limit 0 = never, 1= rarely,
TV time (BYS38C) 2 = sometimes, 3=often 1.112
School Structure and Resources

School size (BYSC3) School’s enrollment in hundreds 7.334
Percent minority in school 1= 30% or more; 0 = less than 30% 36.1%
(G8MINOR)
Expenditures per student Amount in thousands of dollars 3.135
(C_COREPP from SSDB Top 100)
Extent of school problems Contextual variable is based on 1.066
(BYS58A-K) items regarding tardiness,
absenteeism, cutting class, physical
conflicts among students, theft,
vandalism, alcohol and drug use,
students possession of weapons,
and physical/verbal abuse of
teachers at the school.
[Cronbach’s alpha =.92]
Value placed on academics Mean parent response to 2.004
(BYP74A,C,D,G) 1) school places high priority
on learning, 2) my 8th grader is
challenged at school, 3) my 8th
grader is working hard at school,
and 4) the school is preparing
students well for high school.
Range is 0 = strongly disagree
to 3 = strongly agree.
[Cronbach’s alpha =.78]
School club involvement Number of school clubs in which 2.910
(BYS82A-U) student is a member.
Child-teacher communication Mean response to amount of 2.363

(BYS51AB, BYS51BB, discussion with teachers about:
BYS51CB, BYS51DB, BYS51EB) 1) high school programs,
2) jobs/career, 3) improving
schoolwork, 4) courses,
and 5) studies.
[Cronbach’s alpha = .65]
Parent(s) involvement in Mean of parent’s responses to: .963
PTO (BYP59A-D) 1) belong to parent teacher
organization, 2) attend PTO
meetings, 3) take part in PTO
activities, and 4) act as volunteer
at the school. [Cronbach’s alpha = .75]
Source, Measurement, and Descriptive Statistic (con’t)
Mean or
Parents involved with Whether parent(s) involved 26.6%
other organizations (BYP59E) in other school organizations,
not including PTO.
Parents contact school (BYP58A-F) Mean response to: contacted .386
school regarding: 1) academic
performance, 2) academic
programs, 3) behavior,
4) fund raising, 5) information
for school records, and 6) doing
volunteer work.
Range is 0 = never to 3 =
four or more times.
[Cronbach’s alpha = .69]
Community Structure and Resources

Community type (based on 1993 Factor with four categories:
ERS’ county typology codes) Metro core 38.1%
Metro other 35.9%
Nonmetro adjacent 13.6%
Nonmetro nonadjacent 12.3%
Average years in current home School district’s average: 10.807

(H028 from SDDB) how long, in years, householders
have lived in current home
Community socio-economic A standardized composite -.049
capacity (P117, P080A, P077, of highly related district SES
H061, P113, P204 from SDDB) measures: The six socioeconomic
measures are district poverty rate,
district median income, district
employment diversity as measured
by Simpson’s (1949) Diversity
Index of 18 industry categories,
concentration of wealth as measured
by a Gini of the value of residents’
homes, percent of unemployed
householders in district, and district’s
mean education level on a four-point
scale (Cronbach’s alpha = .92).

Number of moves since grade 1 Number of times student changed 1.247
(BYP6) schools since grade 1
(not due to promotion)
Involvement in a religious group 1= yes; 0 = no 33.2%
(BYS83A)
Involvement in nonreligious Number of groups in which student
community groups (BYS83C,D,F-J) is a member 1.340
a
Unless noted, the source is the National Education Longitudinal Survey.
CITIZEN PARTICIPATION IN
NONPROFIT ECONOMIC
DEVELOPMENT ORGANIZATIONS
By Daniel Monroe Sullivan
ABSTRACT
Citizen participation in community development, including economic development, is vital for a
viable democratic society to flourish. As more U.S. cities shift some or all of their economic
development efforts from the city government to nonprofit economic development organizations
(NEDOs) – which use resources from both the public and business sector to promote local economic
growth – it is important to examine what implications this shift has on citizen participation. Some
researchers highlight the advantages of NEDOs, portraying them as high-performing organizations
that facilitate cooperation between city government and the local business community. But are
there any disadvantages to promoting development via NEDOs in terms of citizen participation?
Using survey data from nearly 500 NEDOs, this study finds that the local business community and
city government are heavily involved in NEDOs, including founding them and contributing board
members, money, and policy advice. However, in most NEDOs, citizens who are not part of local
business organizations do not participate directly, but they participate indirectly through their public
officials. Community development practitioners should work towards increasing direct citizen
participation in NEDOs, especially when NEDOs use significant public resources.
Keywords: Nonprofit economic development organizations (NEDOs),

citizen participation, economic development strategies, democratic society
INTRODUCTION
Researchers and practitioners alike have long asserted the importance of
citizen involvement in the community development decision-making process
(Daley & Marsiglia, 2001; Gaunt, 1998), including the promotion of economic
development (Sharp & Flora, 1999). Citizen involvement is essential for genuine
local and representative democracy to develop. In addition, citizens can help
identify community needs, articulate development goals to meet these needs,
and contribute their knowledge and skills.
Starting in the 1970s, city governments began to promote economic
development actively by engaging in an array of activities such as operating
industrial parks, running small business incubators, and orchestrating downtown
revitalization programs (Clarke & Gaile, 1998). More recently, cities have created
nonprofit economic development organizations (NEDOs) to help promote
This material is based upon work supported by the Cooperative State Research, Education and
Extension Service, U.S. Department of Agriculture, National Research Initiative, under agreement
no. 97-35401-4353. Any opinion, finding, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this
publication are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the view of the U.S. Department
of Agriculture. Correspondence can be directed to Daniel Sullivan, Department of Sociology,
Portland State University, PO Box 751, Portland, OR 97207. Email: [email protected].
Sullivan 59
development (Clarke, 1998; Humphrey & Erickson, 1997; Sullivan, 1998).

NEDOs are nonprofit organizations that use resources from both the public and
business sector to promote economic growth in a city or region; they are often
called industrial development corporations or economic development corporations.
Given the importance of citizen involvement in promoting economic
development, coupled with the rise in popularity of NEDOs, the main goal of
this paper is to examine the extent to which citizens participate in NEDOs. For
example, are citizens allowed to attend meetings? Do they elect the boards of
directors? Do citizens’ organizations have regular contact with NEDOs?
Despite the growing popularity of NEDOs, there is still a dearth of
knowledge about them. Although there have been some case studies of NEDOs,
primarily in large cities, there have been few national studies and even fewer
that have examined case studies in small and mid-sized cities. I address these
shortcomings by using survey data from nearly 500 NEDOs in cities of all sizes
from throughout the United States.
Nonprofit Economic Development Organizations

NEDOs are nonprofit organizations that straddle the public-private divide.
In certain respects, NEDOs are similar to government economic development
agencies. Most NEDOs have access to public funding (Humphrey & Erickson,
1997), typically in the form of city government bonds, and they have exclusive
access to specific local tax revenue streams (e.g., a hotel tax) or development
funds from the county, state, or federal government that pass through the city
government to them. NEDOs may have access to such public resources as
government office space, office equipment, and staff support. City governments
may transfer public authorities to them, including eminent domain, zoning, and
authorization to lend public money to businesses. Some NEDOs that lack formal
control over these public authorities can still use them through their city
government with minimal oversight.
In other respects, NEDOs look like private business organizations. Many
receive part of their funding from private sources, for example, from membership
dues or donations (Humphrey & Erickson, 1997). In addition, NEDOs often
coordinate their activities with business organizations such as the chambers of
commerce, and many of their board members come from the business community.
Rise in Popularity
NEDOs started to become popular during the 1980s, and they have been growing
in popularity ever since. The 1998 Local Government Economic Development Survey
conducted by the author reports that 89 percent of cities have at least one NEDO,
either operating in their city (64 percent) or in their county (83 percent). They are the
most active promoter of economic development in 19 percent of the cities.
There are several reasons that explain their popularity. Starting in the 1970s,
a series of events negatively affected many local economies. Companies were
going out of business or moving to lower-wage areas such as developing

countries. Furthermore, at a time when cities needed additional assistance from
the federal government to combat these economic troubles, federal support was
declining (Fainstein & Fainstein, 1989). As a result, large cities, followed by
smaller ones, became more aggressive in attempts to stimulate their local economy.
Entrepreneurial city governments often promote development with assistance
from their local business community. They form public-private partnerships,
many of which are institutionalized in the form of NEDOs (Walzer & Jacobs,
1998). Case studies have shown that the main benefit of these public-private
partnerships is that city government and business organizations have unique
resources and expertise that complement one another (Premus & Blair, 1991).
City governments, for their part, often have planners and economic developers
in their agencies, possess vital public powers such as eminent domain and zoning,
and have exclusive access to public funding – both local funding and development
funds from the county, state, and federal governments.
Business leaders have a set of skills that complement those of the city
government, including marketing, accounting, negotiating with businesses,
writing contracts, and performing cost-benefit analyses (Austin & McCaffrey,
2002; Premus & Blair, 1991). In addition, operating NEDOs tend to improve
communication and build strong bonds of trust between government officials and
business leaders, who facilitate cross-sector cooperation and minimize conflict.
Citizen Involvement in NEDOs

Despite the popularity of NEDOs, some researchers and community leaders
are critical of them. Their main criticism is that NEDOs use public resources
but are not accountable to the public. Community developers should be
concerned because critics argue that many NEDOs are undemocratic
organizations that give local business leaders easy access to their decision-making
process, while citizens who are not business leaders are largely marginalized.
For example, local business leaders have an easier time influencing NEDOs
than city governments (Humphrey & Erickson, 1997). Many NEDO board
members themselves come from the business community, bringing with them a
general pro-business, pro-growth agenda (Brown et al., 2000). These board
members are heavily embedded in the local business community, facilitating
strong inter-organizational relations between NEDOs and local business
organizations such as chambers of commerce. In these ways, NEDOs are in
tune with the local business community: they share similar goals and define
problems and solutions in similar ways.
In addition, citizens tend to not be involved in NEDOs. It is very difficult
for citizens to get on NEDO boards of directors because few board members are
publicly elected (Kantor, 1995). Instead, some board members are chosen because
of their official position in the business community; for example, slots may be
designated for the presidents of the chambers of commerce or utility companies.
Sullivan 61
Others are nominated by NEDO members, who are themselves from the business
community and tend to favor electing other business leaders. To be considered for
nomination one may already have to be a member of the organization, which can
involve making substantial financial contributions that many citizens cannot afford.
Citizens may be uninvolved for several other reasons. Some NEDOs do
not open their meetings to the public and do not publicly advertise them. In
addition, public funding for NEDOs is often not exposed to annual city
government budgetary scrutiny. Instead, off-budget allocations – either pass-
through grants from the state and federal government, or local off-budget
allocations (e.g., sales tax revenues) – allow public money to be automatically
channeled to NEDOs with no public debate and often with little public knowledge
(Kantor, 1995; Squires, 1996).
Potential Benefits of Citizen Involvement

Many community development researchers and practitioners assert that citizen
participation in city government decision-making is an essential element of genuine
democracy. Gaunt (1998) asserts that there should be an open “communication
process” whereby citizens are involved in a “mutual exchange of information,
reaction, and dialogue for the purpose of influencing decision making” (p. 277).
Berry et al. (1993) agree that there needs to be citizen involvement and further
argue that their involvement should be “structured,” thus enabling citizens to have
a routine voice in the policy-making process. Given that NEDOs rather than
government development agencies are becoming an increasing popular type of
organization to promote economic development, it follows from the above argument
that citizen participation in NEDOs could be similarly important.
Gaunt (1998), building on the work of Warner (1971), posits that there are
three general ways in which citizens can participate. (1) Informational
participation means that citizens receive information from NEDOs, for example
information about upcoming development projects and the amount of public
money that will be used. Although this level of participation is the least influential
of the three, it does allow citizens to serve as “watchdogs” (Burke, 1983), and it
may lead to more active citizen participation in the future. (2) Review
participation refers to citizens not only obtaining information about development
projects but also commenting on the proposed projects before they are
implemented. This level of participation allows citizens to express their needs
and interests, which may be different from those of business leaders (Abatena,
1997; Daley & Marsiglia, 2001), and to evaluate whether the project will satisfy
those needs. The limitation of review participation is that citizen participation is
merely reactive; they are not involved in designing the development projects.
(3) The third and highest level is interactive participation whereby citizens are
involved in development projects from the early stages. They help define the
problems and needs of the community and participate in designing projects that
can meet these needs.
Repercussions of Citizen Involvement. Advocates of citizen participation

argue that when citizens are left out of the decision-making process, development
projects tend to focus exclusively on growth and pay little attention to equality
or benefiting non-elite residents. In larger cities, this exclusive focus on growth
may be manifested in developers benefiting disproportionately from such projects
as downtown office buildings, retail centers, performing arts centers, and sports
stadiums (Cummings, 1988; Eisinger, 2000; Squires, 1989). These projects rarely
benefit neighborhood residents, especially those who are low-income, because
they are often not hired, or are hired for low-wage, low-skill jobs in the service
sector. Funding large downtown projects may also lead to cities having less
money for municipal services that are vital to neighborhood residents, such as
policing, street maintenance, public education, and parks. In smaller cities and
rural areas this may be manifested in recruiting manufacturers or meatpacking
plants that tend to hire in-migrants and pay low wages, which do not benefit
local residents (Davidson, 1991; Summers, et al. 1976).
In contrast, citizen involvement can lead to more progressive development
policies. Research has shown that city governments influenced by citizens
implement policies that make explicit attempts to ensure that residents benefit
more from development. Elkins (1995) finds that neighborhood group activism
increases the likelihood that cities require developers to create low- and middle-
income housing in new development projects. Goetz (1994) finds that
neighborhood group activism has a positive impact on the number of progressive
policies adopted, including requiring the participation of women- and minority-
owned businesses. Other researchers have documented citizen and neighborhood
groups advocating rent control (Clavel, 1986), living wages (Pollin & Luce,
1998), and local banks contributing to community reinvestment funds (Squires,
1992). In rural areas, Flora et al. (1991) identify over 100 “self-development”
projects that involve a diverse array of local residents. Sharp and Flora (1999)
find that when this diversity of local actors is absent, more traditional business
organizations tend to favor industrial recruitment.
In this paper, I examine the extent to which citizens are involved in NEDOs.
A major weakness of previous NEDO studies is that most only examine one or a
few NEDOs, and usually only those operating in large cities. Therefore, it is difficult
to know whether their findings are generalizable to other NEDOs, especially those
in small and mid-sized cities. To address these shortcomings I use survey data to
examine nearly 500 NEDOs that are located in cities of all sizes.
METHODOLOGY
Data come from the 1999 National Economic Development Organization
Survey. One of the obstacles to collecting information on NEDOs is that there is
no comprehensive list. To develop the list, I first conducted a mail survey in
1998 of all municipalities with a population greater than 2,500. City government
officials familiar with economic development identified all NEDOs operating
Sullivan 63
in their municipality or region. The resulting list of NEDOs was then expanded
through an extensive search on the Internet.
In total, 1,306 NEDOs were identified and sent surveys. A total of 666
NEDOs responded, resulting in a 51 percent response rate. Of these, 204 are
excluded because they are either purely public or purely private organizations.
Purely public organizations are those whose entire budget comes from public
sources, and they have either no board of director or one composed of only
public officials. Purely private organizations are those whose entire budgets
come from private sources, that have a board of directors composed of only
private sector persons, and that have no direct authority to use public powers
(zoning, eminent domain, ability to give public subsidies). Overall, 462 cases
are included in this study. Table 1 shows that about half of NEDOs operate in
metropolitan counties and half in nonmetropolitan counties. Many of the NEDOs
are in smaller cities (2,500 to 25,000 residents), and there are more from the
Midwest and South than from the Northeast and West.
Table 1. Characteristics of Cities that Have Nonprofit Economic
Development Organizations
N percent
Metropolitan county 220 48%
Nonmetropolitan county 237 52%
Population size 237 52%
2,500 - 9,999 263 58%
10,000 - 24,999 111 24%
25,000 - 49,999 49 11%
50,000 - 99,999 18 4%
100,000 + 5 1%
Region
Northeast 67 15%
Midwest 137 30%
South 167 36%
West 91 20%
N = 462
Indicators
The main goal of this paper is to examine how citizens are involved in
NEDOs. The term “citizen” is difficult to define. Technically all residents of a
city are citizens. However, for this paper, I use the term “citizen” to refer to
residents who are not involved in a business organization (e.g., chamber of
commerce, utility company, developer) or some other leadership position (e.g.,
city or county government official or economic development expert affiliated
with higher education institution or Extension). The term “citizen/neighborhood
organization” refers to such non-business and non-governmental organizations
as neighborhood associations, citizen advisory boards, and church groups (that

deal with economic development issues). Although it is possible that members
of citizen and neighborhood organizations are also local business leaders (or
government officials or experts affiliated with a higher education institution or
Extension), they are not formally serving in those roles while they are
participating in citizen or neighborhood organizations.
Citizen involvement can be measured directly (through citizen participation)
and indirectly (through the participation of public officials). Citizen involvement
in NEDOs is measured six ways: participation in founding NEDOs, funding
NEDOs, electing their board of directors, NEDOs opening their meetings to the
public, NEDOs notifying the public of their meetings, and NEDOs maintaining
routine relations with citizen/neighborhood organizations and public agencies.
In regards to this last way of measuring citizen involvement – relations
with other organizations – I compare NEDO relations to city government
relations. In particular, I pay close attention to whether, on the one hand, city
officials have closer ties to citizen and neighborhood organizations (citizen
advisory boards, neighborhood associations, and church groups) and public
organizations (county, state and federal government, regional planning commission,
universities, technical and community colleges, and Extension) while, on the other
hand, NEDOs have closer ties to business organizations (chambers of commerce,
utilities, and developers). In this section of the analysis, I only examine local
NEDOs, – i.e., NEDOs that operate within the same geographical boundaries as
their city governments – to compare their relations to city governments more fairly.
NEDOs are excluded from this part of the analysis if they span several cities or an
entire county, or if they operate only in one part of a city.
Inter-organizational relations are measured three ways: interaction, policy
coordination, and participation in developing strategies. Interaction is measured
by asking local NEDOs and city governments how frequently they interact with
other actors specifically regarding economic development. There are three levels
of interaction: at least yearly, at least monthly, and at least weekly. Policy
coordination is measured by how frequently local NEDOs and city governments
coordinate specific policy activities with other organizations: never, sometimes,
usually, and always. If NEDOs coordinate at least sometimes, they identify
with which specific organizations they coordinate. Participation is measured by
asking whether NEDOs allow other organizations to participate in developing
their economic development strategies. If they answer “yes” to that question,
they indicate all of the organizations that participate and which of these is the
most influential.
FINDINGS
Overall, the survey findings show that business organizations and city and
county governments are heavily involved in NEDOs, but citizens are not. In the
majority of cases, citizens are only involved indirectly through their government
Sullivan 65
officials. In terms of founding NEDOs, at least one public institution is involved

in founding 82 percent of them, while at least one business organization is
involved in creating 71 percent of them. Table 2 illustrates that city governments
are by far the most frequently involved in establishing NEDOs, in terms of having
any involvement (71 percent of NEDOs) and being the most involved (23
percent). One other public institution – county government – and two types of
business actors – chamber of commerce and “other business persons” – are also
involved in a substantial number of cases. In contrast, citizen and neighborhood
organizations are rarely involved in any capacity.
The mean 1999 budget for NEDOs is $359,162 (median $155,000). Sixty-
two percent of their funding come from public sources and 33 percent come
from private sources (5 percent come from other sources). The most common
sources of public funding are city government revenues (69 percent of NEDOs
receive them) and county government revenues (58 percent). The most common
private sources are contributions from individual businesses (47 percent) and
chambers of commerce (38 percent), and NEDO membership dues (34 percent).
Table 2. Organizations Involved in Founding NEDOs

Any Involvement Most Involved
City government 71% 23%
County government 48% 21%
Chamber of commerce 44% 17%
Other business persons 44% 16%
Utility company 26% 4%
Developers 17% 3%
County NEDO 15% 2%
State government 13% 2%
Higher education institution 13% 2%
Citizen/neighborhood organization 13% 1%
Private consultant 8% 0%
Federal government 5% 0%
N = 462
Overall, NEDOs have less citizen involvement than do city governments.

For example, although city government meetings must be open to the public by
law, there is wide variation in public access to NEDO meetings. On one extreme,
48 percent of NEDOs always open their meetings to the public, while on the
other extreme, 17 percent of NEDOs never allow the public to attend. The
remaining 35 percent sometimes or usually open their meetings to the public.
When they close their meetings to the public, they often discuss their dealings
with particular businesses, including negotiating with specific firms (73 percent)
or discussing financial incentives to offer to firms (54 percent). Fewer NEDOs
notify the public of their meetings. Forty-three percent always notify, but 30
percent never do so. The remaining 28 percent sometimes or usually notify the
public of their meetings. Not surprising, those NEDOs that open more of their
meetings to the public also tend to notify the public more often of upcoming
meetings (Spearman’s rho = 0.659).
In terms of selecting NEDO board of directors, over half are elected without
any public involvement. Forty-four percent are elected by NEDO members, and
a small percentage are appointed because of their position in a business
organization like the chamber of commerce (7 percent) or because they contribute
financially to their NEDO (3 percent). Of those appointments that involve public
input, most are indirect because they are appointed by city and county governments
(33 percent). A small percentage of members are public officials themselves (6
percent) and, most significantly, very few are elected directly by voters (4 percent).
Local NEDO Relations with Other Organizations

In this section, I examine only local NEDOs – i.e., NEDOs that operate
within the same geographical boundaries as their city governments. Overall, the
survey findings indicate that local NEDOs tend to interact most frequently with
city officials and local business organizations, especially the chambers of commerce,
and they rarely interact with citizen and neighborhood organizations. In terms of
weekly interaction, Table 3 illustrates that 57 percent interact with city officials
and 43 percent interact with their chambers. Some also interact weekly with several
other business actors – developers, banks, utilities, – and their county governments.
Few local NEDOs interact with citizen and neighborhood organizations, higher
education institutions, or state and federal government agencies.
Table 4 shows that most local NEDOs (97 percent) coordinate their
development projects at least sometimes with one or more development
organizations. Many local NEDOs coordinate with city government (81 percent)
and chamber of commerce (68 percent), and some coordinate with developers,
utilities, county NEDOs, and county government. Few coordinate with citizen
and neighborhood organizations.
Sixty-three percent of local NEDOs allow one or more organizations to
participate in developing their economic development strategies. City government
is by far the most frequent participant (54 percent), followed by a number of
business organizations – chambers (33 percent), utilities (28 percent), and
developers (22 percent) – and their county government (21 percent) (see Table
5). Only 11 percent of local NEDOs allow citizen and neighborhood organizations
to be involved.
Local NEDOs that cite at least one organization participating in developing
their strategies are then asked to name the one organization that is most
influential. Local NEDOs report that city government is most often the most
influential participant (61 percent); sixteen percent identify their chamber of
commerce or county NEDO. All other organizations are rarely or never the most
influential, including citizen and neighborhood organizations.
Table 3. Comparing Local NEDOs and City Governments, by Interaction with Other Development Organizations
Yearly Interaction Monthly Interaction Weekly Interaction
Local City Local City Local City
NEDO Gov’t t-stat NEDO Gov’t t-stat NEDO Gov’t t-stat
City government (118) 95% – – 87% – – 57% –
Local NEDO (107) -– 97% – – 81% – – 44% –
Chamber of commerce (114) 90% 96% 1.965** 83% 86% -0.726 43% 50% 1.302
County government (112) 89% 88% -0.425 63% 51% 2.254** 18% 24% 1.406
Developers (106) 87% 84% -0.687 58% 63% -0.948 20% 22% 0.598
State government (115) 86% 90% 0.815 39% 35% 0.761 7% 12% 1.420
Financial institution (113) 83% 81% -0.352 62% 51% 1.645* 16% 7% -2.742***
Utility (115) 81% 89% 1.818* 55% 59% -0.799 17% 23% 1.352
County NEDO (91) 66% 71% 0.799 45% 56% -1.683* 10% 10% 0.000
Sullivan
Community college (81) 62% 54% -1.521 26% 31% -0.754 5% 4% -0.332
Consultants (92) 61% 65% 0.616 23% 35% -2.000 8% 11% 0.894
Regional planning commission (96) 61% 69% 1.553 22% 48% -4.117**** 4% 6% 1.000
Federal government (110) 56% 60% 0.744 6% 15% -1.990*** 0% 2% 1.421
University/college (65) 50% 42% -1.488 20% 31% -1.473 4% 4% 0.000
Citizen advisory board (60) 39% 46% 1.421 27% 58% -4.113**** 2% 9% 2.596***
Extension (67) 33% 37% 0.665 13% 19% -1.000 3% 3% 0.000
Church group (99) 25% 31% 1.136 7% 9% -0.533 2% 1% -0.575
Neighborhood association (60) 25% 31% 1.061 2% 27% -4.086**** 1% 5% 1.646*
*p<.10, **p<.05, ***p<.01, ****p<.001
67
Comparing Local NEDOs and City Governments

Table 3 indicates that local NEDOs and city officials have in some respects
similar levels of interaction with other development organizations, including
business organizations, supra-local government agencies, and higher educational
institutions. However, there are several notable exceptions. More local NEDOs
meet monthly or weekly with financial institutions, and more city governments meet
at least yearly with chambers of commerce and utilities. City governments are also
more likely to meet monthly with two regional institutions: county NEDOs and
regional planning commissions. In addition, city governments are far more likely to
interact with citizen advisory boards and neighborhood associations regarding
economic development issues. For example, more than twice as many city
governments than local NEDOs interact at least monthly with citizen advisory boards
(58 percent vs. 27 percent), and while 27 percent of city governments meet at least
monthly with neighborhood associations, only 2 percent of local NEDOs do so.
Local NEDOs and their city governments also exhibit similar levels of overall
policy coordination with other development organizations (see Table 4). They
also tend to coordinate with the same organizations. Over 80 percent of local
NEDOs and city governments coordinate with each other, and many coordinate
with their chamber, county NEDO, county government, utility, and developers.
Local NEDOs and city governments rarely coordinate with citizen and
neighborhood organizations.
Table 4. Comparing Local NEDOs and City Governments, by Policy Coordination

Local NEDO City Government t-statistic
Does your organization coordinate its economic development activities with another
organization(s)?
Always 27% 31% 0.821
Usually 35% 39% 0.564
Sometimes 34% 28% -1.338
Never 3% 3% -0.377
With which organization(s) does your organization coordinate?
City government 81% — —
Local NEDO — 86% —
Chamber of commerce 68% 72% 0.665
County NEDO 44% 54% 1.615
County government 42% 34% -1.346
Utility company 39% 37% -0.427
Developers 36% 27% -1.482
Citizen/neighborhood org. 9% 12% 0.687
N = 117
The biggest difference between local NEDOs and city governments is

apparent in terms of allowing other organizations to help develop their own
economic development strategies. Eighty-three percent of city governments allow
one or more organizations to participate, compared to only 63 percent of local
Sullivan 69
NEDOs. Table 5 illustrates that city governments allow a higher percentage

of all types of organizations to participate, including business organizations,
supra-local government agencies, higher educational institutions, and citizen
and neighborhood organizations. City governments are especially more likely
to allow the participation of supra-local organizations: county NEDOs, state
government, and federal government. In terms of the most influential organization,
it is not surprising that many local NEDOs are most influenced by their city
government (61 percent), and that many city governments are most influenced
by local NEDOs (63 percent). Eight to ten percent of local NEDOs and city
governments report that chambers of commerce and county governments are the
most influential organizations. Almost no other public or private sector organization
is the most influential, including citizen and neighborhood organizations.
Table 5. Comparing Local NEDOs and City Governments, by Other Development

Organizations Involvement in Developing Economic Development Strategies
Local NEDO City Government t-statistic
Any Involvement1
City government 54% – –
Local NEDO – 73% –
Chamber of commerce 33% 65% 5.046****
Utility company 28% 38% 1.871*
Developers 22% 37% 2.596***
County government 21% 38% 3.126***
County NEDO 16% 45% 5.345****
Higher education institution 13% 22% 2.071**
Citizen/neighborhood org. 11% 20% 1.986**
Private consultant 11% 22% 2.561**
State government 9% 26% 3.349****
Federal government 2% 8% 2.143**
Most influential2
City government 61% –
Local NEDO – 63%
Chamber of commerce 8% 9%
County NEDO 8% 10%
County government 3% 1%
Higher education institution 3% 1%
Utility company 3% 0%
Citizen/neighborhood org. 1% 5%
Developers 0% 0%
State government 0% 4%
Private consultant 0% 5%
Federal government 0% 0%
Notes: Local NEDOs operate only in one city. For most influential, “other” = 12 percent for NEDOs
and 1 percent for city governments.
1: N = 117; 2: N = 71 for local EDOs, and N = 92 for city governments. Because they have
different number of cases, I could not perform a paired t-test.
* p<.10, **p<.05, ***p<.01, ****p<.001
DISCUSSION
Given that more cities are putting public resources into NEDOs to promote
economic development, the goal of this paper is to examine the extent to which
citizens are involved in the NEDO decision-making process.
My findings indicate that citizens are more likely to be indirectly involved
through their public officials than directly involved in NEDOs. City and county
governments are often involved in creating NEDOs, and they tend to be the
biggest financial contributors. In addition, NEDOs have more contact with city
officials than with any business organization, and they have some contact with
other public institutions such as county governments and higher educational
institutions. Therefore, overall, if government officials involved in NEDOs
represent the interests of non-business citizens, then we can say that, indirectly,
citizens have some influence over NEDOs.
However, citizens are less involved directly in NEDOs, and this may be a
point of concern for community development practitioners. For example, although
city and county government meetings must be publicly announced and open to
the public by law, NEDOs are not obligated to announce or hold public meetings.
As a result, some NEDOs do not notify the public of their meetings or allow the
public to attend. Thus, even the weakest form of citizen participation –
informational participation – is not available in all NEDOs. In addition, it is
difficult for citizens who are not business leaders to become members of their
boards of directors because few board members are publicly elected. Rather,
most are voted in by NEDO members or appointed by government officials.
Moreover, citizen and neighborhood organizations that are interested in economic
development rarely have contact with NEDOs, in terms of interaction, policy
coordination, or assistance in developing NEDO strategies. Although it is true
that many citizen and neighborhood groups do not have relations with their city
government about economic development issues, even fewer have relations with
their NEDOs. These findings suggest that the two strongest forms of citizen
participation – review and interactive participation – are not available in many
NEDOs.
Overall, these findings suggest that community development practitioners
should examine their community NEDOs to determine how many public
resources they use and how much opportunity there is for citizen involvement.
Citizen involvement is not only important for infusing democracy into local
economic development, but it is also vital for representing the diversity of
community interests and perspectives. Greater diversity can translate into
identifying and developing solutions for a wider array of needs and problems so
that development projects do not only reflect the interests of the business
community.
In cities that already have NEDOs, community development practitioners
should work towards increasing direct citizen access to NEDO decision-making,
especially when NEDOs use substantial public resources. In cities that are
Sullivan 71
contemplating founding NEDOs, community development practitioners should

encourage NEDOs to allow citizen participation, ideally institutionalizing their
participation in the NEDO charter. In terms of specific recommendations, at the
very least NEDO meetings should be open to the public and advertised in the
local newspaper, and NEDOs (and government officials) should be forthright
about the amount of public resources they use. In addition, to represent a more
diverse array of community perspectives, NEDOs should consider allowing
citizens who are not business leaders to become members and to sit on their
boards of directors.
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CONCERNS OF NEWCOMER AND

LONGTIME RESIDENTS IN
NONMETROPOLITAN IDAHO
COMMUNITIES: DOES THE
“GANGPLANK” THEORY APPLY TO
OLDER POPULATIONS?
By Virginia W. Junk, Tammy L. Seefeld, Cynthia J.
Schmiege, and Paul G. Windley
ABSTRACT
The purpose of this study was to examine the level of concern indicated by older people regarding
issues of growth and change, based on whether they were newcomers to their community or longtime
residents. Participants consisted of 443 residents over the age of 50 who lived in one of three high
resource-amenity, nonmetropolitan Idaho communities. These are communities developed around
natural or manufactured environmental or geographic amenities, such as water, mountains, or
forests. A mail survey was used to test the gangplank theory, which posits that newcomers see
change as negatively affecting the environment that initially attracted them to the community.
They move into an area of their choice and then pull up the gangplank in order to restrict community
change. Rather than failure to support growth, as one would expect from the gangplank theory,
instead newcomers were concerned about community leadership, and were significantly more
concerned than longtime residents about how growth was being handled. Interestingly, newcomers
were significantly less satisfied with restaurant choices than longtime residents were, while longtime
residents were significantly less satisfied with housing costs than newcomers were.
Keywords: aging, retirees, gangplank theory, longtime resident, newcomer, resource-amenity
INTRODUCTION
In 1996, the first wave of baby boomers turned 50. With boomers nearing
retirement age, and the proportion of older persons in the population increasing,
understanding the behavior of older persons becomes increasingly important
(Junk, Fox, Cann, & Tripple, 1997). One of the behavior patterns under study is
Virginia W. Junk is a Professor in Family and Consumer Sciences at the University of Idaho;
Tammy L. Seefeld is a County Extension Agent for the University of Arkansas; Cynthia J. Schmiege
is an Associate Professor of Family and Consumer Sciences at the University of Idaho; and Paul
G. Windley is a Professor of Architecture at the University of Idaho. Funding for this project was
provided in part by the USDA National Research Initiatives Program, rural development funds.
Correspondence can be directed to Virginia Junk, Family & Consumer Sciences, University of
Idaho, Moscow, ID 83844-3183. Telephone: (208) 885-7264. Email: [email protected].
the migration of older persons. Over the past 35 years, the United States has
experienced recurring shifts in population migration patterns, including shifts in
migration patterns of older persons.
Traditionally, natural increases accounted for almost all of the growth in
nonmetropolitan communities, with the number of people leaving the
nonmetropolitan communities far exceeding the number of people in-migrating.
Beginning in the 1960s, there was a “nonmetropolitan turnaround” (Johnson &
Purdy, 1980; Fliegel & Sofranko, 1984; Fuguitt, 1985), with people moving
from the cities to nonmetropolitan areas. This turnaround was perceived to be a
sharp contrast to the more traditional in-migration trends of population flowing
from nonmetropolitan areas to metropolitan areas (Vining & Kontuly, 1978).
During the late 1970s, high resource-amenity communities (those developed
around natural or manufactured environmental or geographic amenities, such as
water, mountains, forests, or climate) were prominent centers of growth (Fuguitt,
1985). In the early 1980s, the high resource-amenity communities that were
labeled retirement communities emerged as the fastest growing group of
nonmetropolitan communities (Johnson, 1993). The population-restructuring
trend of the 1990s was facilitated by continued modernization in transportation
and communication, which reduced the challenges of distance that traditionally
determined settlement patterns (Frey & Johnson, 1998).
Older Adults in High Resource-Amenity Communities

High resource-amenity communities have only recently emerged as a
specialized type of community (Beale & Johnson, 1998). Communities of this
type have attributes that make them popular as destinations for older, healthier
in-migrants seeking a better quality of life for their retirement. Additionally,
private enterprise frequently developed and advertised high resource-amenity
communities as retirement paradises, and these communities may be designed
specifically to meet the needs of current and prospective older residents.
In-migration has been the principle contributor fueling the growth of many
high resource-amenity communities (Carlson, Junk, Fox, Rudzitis, & Cann, 1998;
Beale & Johnson, 1998). Some researchers posit that the growth in communities
with scenic and leisure appeal, which are rich in outdoor recreational
opportunities, reflects the rising importance of non-economic factors in migration
decision-making (Heaton, Clifford, & Fuguitt, 1981; Johnson & Fuguitt, 2000).
Glasgow (1990) found that older residents’ views of community satisfaction
have a big influence on how communities approach plans for growth and
development. Older newcomers may be fleeing the negative consequences of
growth in their previous places of residence. Thus, they might be more likely
than longtime residents (who have not experienced the negative consequences
of rapid urbanization) to support environmental protection and to oppose future
growth and development (Stallmann & Jones, 1995).
Junk, Seefeld, Schmiege, and Windley 75
In-migrants’ age composition is relevant for understanding population

influences for several reasons. First, age composition has meaningful
consequences for economic feasibility, for the provision of services, and for the
ability of communities to meet challenges at the local level. Younger populations
are characterized by labor force expansion, higher fertility, school enrollment,
and expansion of housing and associated concerns. In contrast, older populations
deal with different issues and constraints arising from changing income,
household size, health, and related life cycle changes (Fuguitt & Heaton, 1995).
People attracted to high resource-amenity communities typically have the
benefit of middle and upper incomes, with higher levels of education. They are
newly-retired, married, and in good health, having the ability to make and carry
out their own decisions (Bennett, 1993; Carlson et al., 1998; Junk et al., 1997;
Longino, 1998). Additionally, the people who meet these criteria are typically
found to be socially and recreationally active (Bennett, 1993). In-migrants who
settle in smaller high resource-amenity communities often have previous ties to
the area, such as vacation experiences or family in the area (Haas & Serow,
1997; Junk & Young, 1999), while others are seeking an alternative to the
mainstream suburban lifestyle (Haas & Serow, 1993).
Nonmetropolitan communities throughout the West are experiencing
unprecedented transformations of the social, economic, and cultural landscapes
that have characterized the region for most of the past century (Krannich &
Zollinger, 1997). As a result, there is a pressing need for increased understanding
of, and attention to, the growth and development trends, needs, and prospects
confronting such communities.
Older Adults in the Intermountain West

The intermountain west, which includes Arizona, Colorado, Idaho, Montana,
Nevada, New Mexico, Utah, and Wyoming, has experienced a growth rate that
significantly exceeds the national average for over a decade (between 29 percent
and 66 percent compared to a national growth rate of 13 percent).
Nonmetropolitan communities rich in scenic beauty and outdoor recreation have
become a magnet for people looking for a better quality of life (Smith & Krannich,
2000). A recent study (Carlson et al, 1998) found that people age 50 and older
moved to small Idaho communities for outdoor recreational opportunities, less
congestion, and a slower pace of life. Reeder (1998) found that pre-retirees and
retirees are attracted to communities that provide familiarity and friendliness of
service providers within grocery stores, pharmacies, and hospitals. Henderson
(1994) suggested that as pre-retirees and retirees age, their propensity to be
mobile declines, which increases local spending rather than regional spending.
Attracting retirees to high resource-amenity areas has become an economic
development strategy for many communities (Carlson et al., 1998). Many
communities and counties in the intermountain west are exhibiting demographic
shifts to higher percentages of older persons. When retirees in-migrate, their

income can substantially boost the local economies through consumerism and
housing starts (Glasgow, 1990). As areas grow, the demand for housing usually
results in escalation of home values. “Main Street” businesses are often replaced
by real estate brokers’ offices. Businesses such as banks and grocery stores gain
customers who are often more affluent than the norm. Service providers such as
insurance agents and lawyers obtain new clients, and local governments receive
additional property and local tax revenue.
Retirees within a community also create the need for a mix of jobs, ranging
from highly skilled medical jobs to unskilled retail jobs; however, many new
jobs tend to be in low-skilled occupations such as service jobs in restaurants or
recreational facilities (Reeder & Glasgow, 1990; Haas & Serow, 1993). These
types of jobs fail to provide a person with sufficient income to afford housing
and raise a family in the community. Nevertheless, attracting retirees can add to
family incomes by providing unemployed or under-employed family members
with additional part-time and overtime employment. These provisions can be
particularly helpful in places with a high concentration of poverty, working poor,
unemployed youths, and part-time college students (Reeder, 1998). Additionally,
Junk (2002) found that 14 percent of persons age 50 and older were interested
in part-time seasonal employment. This interest provides a labor pool of older
persons who are dependable and often willing to work weekends.
Nelson (1997) found that with community growth and change, longtime
residents felt economic pressure from at least two possible sources. The first,
directly linked to the influx of newcomers, was the rise in property values because
of increased demand for housing, which resulted in higher property taxes. A
second source of economic stress relevant to the socioeconomic differentials
relates to the role newcomer and longtime residents have in the fate of the local
economy. Newcomers were less dependent on income from employment in the
local economy compared to longtime residents, whereas longtime residents were
very dependent on earned income compared to newcomers.
As high resource-amenity communities grow, maintaining the expected
quality of life is important in retaining residents. Environmental qualities of
life, such as air and water quality, are issues that must be addressed by community
leaders and service providers. Community planners must understand the
implications of an aging population’s migration to their community in order to
determine how the community will deal with potentially necessary changes, such
as longer stoplights that allow an older person time to cross the road or
ambulances staffed with paramedics rather than emergency medical technicians
(Junk, 2001a).
This “age wave” (Dychtwald, 1990) will be felt increasingly in
nonmetropolitan communities in the intermountain west. Research finds that
people age 50 and older are healthier, wealthier, more educated, more traveled,
and better situated to move than were previous cohorts in their age groups (Junk,
2001b). Older residents’ satisfaction with their community, and their perception
of how well their needs and desires will continue to be met, will increasingly
influence how communities approach plans for growth and development
(Glasgow, 1990).
Theoretical Framework
Theory-based research is needed to identify further the potential conflicting
opinions between newcomer and longtime residents. Nonmetropolitan
newcomers and long-timers may view environment, growth, and development
issues differently. Conflict between newcomer and longtime residents may occur
if newcomers bring particular social ideas to their nonmetropolitan community
that are distinctly different from those of longtime residents. Environmental
concerns and individual views about growth and development issues may be the
basis for disagreement (Krannich & Zollinger, 1997). Socioeconomic status
and lifestyle differences, along with other factors, may also contribute to conflicts
between newcomer and longtime residents (Salamon & Tornatore, 1994).
Gangplank Theory
One theory that attempts to explain conflict between newcomer and longtime
residents is the “gangplank” theory (Society of Planning Officials, 1976). This
theory proposes that in rapidly growing, high resource-amenity nonmetropolitan
communities, newcomers are thought to be particularly concerned about future
growth and development that could conceivably destroy the environment that
initially attracted them to the community. More specifically, newcomers do not
want any more newcomers, and they want the environment that drew them to the
area to remain unchanged. Their desire is to move into an area of their choice,
then pull up the “gangplank” in order to restrict community change.
Smith and Krannich (2000) examined whether underlying causes of social
conflict about growth and development between newcomer and longtime
residents were related to significant attitude and value differences. Junk (2001)
found from focus group discussions that longtime residents felt newcomers were
not connecting to their community: “Neighborliness is changing. We used to
know a lot of our neighbors. It’s sad because people drive into their driveway,
push a button, go into their garage, push a button, and nobody interacts” (p. 26).
Cockerham and Blevins (1977) found that in-migration into Jackson Hole,
Wyoming brought change, and newcomers clearly wanted control of growth. In
addition, they quoted one newcomer as stating: “I’m here and I have what I
want. Although it is a terrible thing to say, I want other people to keep out. It’s
time to close the gate and protect what is left of this valley” (p.72).
Newcomer and longtime residents differ on many socio-demographic levels.
However, for variables indicative of attitudes toward population growth,
economic development, and tourism development, Smith and Krannich (2000)
found either no significant differences, or differences in direct contrast to the

gangplank hypothesis; longtime residents were more opposed to growth than
newcomers were.
Purpose of the Study

The purpose of this study is to examine the level of concern regarding issues
of growth, reported by age 50 and older newcomers (those who have lived in
their community ten years or less) and 50 and over longtime residents (those
who have lived in their community more than ten years). This study will identify
any significant differences between the two groups’ views on growth and change.
Results from the survey will help community planners, county officials, and
developers determine pro- and anti-growth sentiments of newcomer and longtime
residents age 50 and over in selected nonmetropolitan high resource-amenity
communities. These results can also be used by other areas of the United States
that are experiencing later life migration.
METHODS
A rural development grant was obtained in 1999 through a USDA National
Research Initiatives Grant. One of the objectives of the grant was to examine
the level of concern indicated by newcomer and longtime residents age 50 and
older regarding issues of growth and change. The study reported here identifies
significant differences between the two groups’ views on growth and change.
Researchers’ previous studies on migration of older residents, paired with a
review of literature and focus group input, identified topics that needed further
study in order to help communities deal with the potential changes a higher
proportion of older residents might bring to their community.
The scope of this exploratory study was to focus on a western state that was
predominantly rural and experiencing growth in its older population. Idaho was
selected for study since it fit these two criteria. Three nonmetropolitan counties
in Idaho that were experiencing the greatest growth of those age 65 and older
were selected for study. Rather than using only a quantitative approach, a
qualitative approach was also incorporated by preceding the mail survey with
focus groups conducted in the three counties.
Focus Groups
Focus groups were used to identify issues or concerns of newcomer and
longtime residents age 50 and older and to identify stakeholders, including
businesspeople, service providers, and community officials. Involving the
stakeholders helped to ensure that information gathered would be useful to
decision-makers at the community level. The three counties had common
characteristics – they were resort communities that were known for their scenic
beauty, lakes or rivers, and both summer and winter sports. The counties included
the resort areas of Sun Valley, McCall, and Sandpoint, Idaho. Two of the three
counties had 21 percent of their population age 65 or older (compared to 13

percent in the state as a whole), and the third county had 15 percent of the
population in this age group.
Before being used in communities in the three counties, focus group
questions and format of the discussions were pilot-tested on newcomers, long-
timers, and stakeholders in another Idaho county that was experiencing some
growth in its age 50 and older population. Based on the pilot test, changes were
made in focus group format and question content and wording. Ten to twelve
questions were used per focus group. Examples of some focus group questions
asked of residents include the following.
1. How would you describe your community to someone interested in
moving here? What is the biggest challenge your community faces in
the future? (Asked in all focus groups.)
2. Describe the changes that have taken place in your community in the
last 5-10 years. Has the increase in the number of persons age 50 and
older had a positive or negative impact? (Asked in longtime residents
and stakeholders focus groups only).
3. Thinking about your expectations when you moved to this community,
describe how well you think they are being met. Since moving here,
how well have your expectations for life in this community been met?
What could be done to improve the quality of life? How would you
assess public services? (Asked in newcomer focus groups only.)
Mail Survey Instrument

After reviewing the literature and considering focus group input, a mail
survey instrument was developed. Questions from previous surveys developed
by the researchers were used, because their content contributed to answering
the research questions and because their reliability was high (Cronbach’s Alpha
.82). Additional questions were included specifically to provide an adequate
test of the gangplank theory with this older population.
The Dillman Total Design Method (1978) was used in the mail survey
development. Using this method often results in response rates of 60 percent or
higher. Questions were designed to address issues identified in the focus groups,
which had not been examined to any extent in previous studies. For example,
stakeholders involved in community planning wanted to know if older newcomer
and longtime residents differed in their support of community growth, what
level of growth they would support, and how well they thought growth was
being managed. The desire to have this information came out of their concern
that newcomers would resist any changes in the community once they moved
there. The instrument was pilot-tested in the same nonmetropolitan community
that had pilot-tested the focus group questions; modifications were made to
format, font size, and wording based on this test.
Sample
The 50 and older population of Idaho’s three “retiree magnet” counties
(counties with communities that attract higher than typical percentages of older
persons) was sampled. Potential participants were identified using snowball
and convenience sampling. Based on suggestions by Frenzen and Parker (2000),
certain types of stakeholders in rural communities were identified, including
mayors, county commissioners, ministers, bank managers, county extension
agents who focused on community development, librarians, pharmacists, lawyers,
and proprietors of needle craft and quilt shops, toy stores, hardware stores, grocery
stores, clothing stores, medical centers, and senior centers.
Before visiting each county, persons who currently or previously lived there
were identified and asked if they could refer researchers to contact persons within
the community. Next, researchers visited each county and first met with the
Executive Director of the Chamber of Commerce and representatives of
community development groups. Chamber of Commerce members, as well as
business owners, were identified from Chamber of Commerce membership lists.
After meeting with persons on the lists, researchers were given names of others
who might fit the criteria for inclusion in the study, who in turn recommended
additional participants. The researchers also stopped in at businesses on the
main streets seeking potential stakeholder participants and leads for persons
age 50 and over who might meet the study criteria. This was a particularly
important step since the mailing addresses of businesses, which were often post
office boxes rather than street addresses, were not listed in telephone directories.
Visiting with the businessperson was a way to get their correct mailing address.
In order to identify additional potential participants, subscriptions to local
newspapers were obtained. Each issue was scrutinized to identify newcomers
and longtime residents in particular since, unlike businesspersons, there was no
directory on which to rely. Particular focus was given to newspaper
announcements that listed peoples’ names and sometimes their ages, such as fun
runs. Newspapers were also used to look for pictures of local events where
people appeared to be 50 years or over, followed by phone screening.
Because of the labor-intensive nature of these means of identifying persons,
and the difficulty in identifying enough newcomer and longtime residents for
the results to be generalized in each county, a list was compiled of University of
Idaho graduates age 50 and over in the counties. Those who met the study
criteria were then contacted by phone to confirm that they were in the target age
group, to find out how long they had lived in their current community, and to
check on their current mailing address. The drawback of this method of sampling
is the potential bias for higher levels of education.
Participants in the survey included three categories of community residents:
(1) newcomers age 50 and older who had lived in their community ten years or
less, (2) longtime residents age 50 and older who had lived in their community
more than ten years, and (3) stakeholders of any age who were either newcomers
or long-timers. Stakeholders included businesspeople, service providers, and those

who served in official capacities within the community. For the purposes of the
study reported here only data from stakeholders age 50 and over were included.
Data Collection
The Social Survey Research Unit (SSRU) at the University of Idaho provided
assistance in refining instruments, consulting on content and ordering of items,
phone screening the sample, conducting the pilot test and collecting data using
a mail survey. The survey was also available online at the study website for
persons who wanted to take it electronically. Nineteen persons elected to do
this. All correspondence used in the study contained the same color graphic of
Idaho for easy identification. The Dillman Total Design Method (1978) was
used in data collection. This method entailed the use of pre-cards to let potential
participants know that the survey was going to be delivered to their homes within
one week, after which the mail survey and cover letter were sent out. Two
weeks later, non-respondents received a reminder card. After an additional week,
participants who did not respond to the reminder card were sent a duplicate
survey with an attached letter asking them to complete the duplicate questionnaire
and return it as soon as possible. Sixty-six percent of respondents (769)
completed the survey, and of those, 443 surveys were completed by respondents
age 50 and over who resided in one of the three counties.
STUDY VARIABLES AND THEIR MEASUREMENT
The Dependent Variables

The dependent variables included sixteen characteristics of community
growth. The first ten variables were these: concern about growth, land usage,
community leadership, consensus on development, traffic congestion or flow,
downtown parking, road improvements, public transportation options, affordable
housing, and employment opportunities. These were presented in a Likert-type
question that allowed respondents to circle one of four choices: “not concerned,”
“slightly concerned,” “moderately concerned,” or “very concerned.” The next
four dealt with level of satisfaction regarding property taxes, cost of living, cost
of utilities, and cost of housing. These variables were also organized in a Likert-
type question that allowed respondents to circle one of four choices: “not
satisfied,” “somewhat satisfied,” “moderately satisfied,” and “very satisfied.”
The fifteenth dependent variable asked respondents about what level of future
growth they would support in their community. They had the option of checking
one of four choices: “I would not support future growth,” “I would support
slight growth,” “I would support moderate growth,” or “I would support a lot of
growth in this area.” The sixteenth and last dependent variable asked the
respondent’s opinion about how well growth was being handled in their
community. They could check one of four answers: “Not well at all,” “fairly
well,” “very well,” or “other (please describe).”
An additional dichotomous dependent variable was created for use in logistic
regression analyses. This variable classified each respondent as either a
newcomer (n=128) or a longtime resident (n=279). Creating this variable allowed
us to determine answers to which questions about community growth and change,
based on the gangplank theoretical model, would be significantly related to
whether a person was a newcomer or longtime resident.
The Independent Variables

Our theoretical model suggested that concerns about community growth,
concerns about land usage, satisfaction with the cost of housing, and how well
the respondent felt growth was being managed in their community would be
significant in distinguishing newcomers and longtime residents. Preliminary
analyses also suggested one additional variable of interest, the respondent’s
satisfaction with restaurant choices in the community, should be included in the
analyses.
Other independent variables included eight characteristics of respondents.
The first was how many years they had lived in the community. Other independent
variables included the socio-demographic characteristics of education, sex,
marital status, employment status, age, approximate home value, and approximate
family income.
RESULTS
From the combined sample of residents of all three counties, 69 percent of
participants were long-timers and 31 percent were newcomers. Education
attainment was fairly high, ranging from some college to advanced degrees for
most residents. Although these levels were affected by including some University
of Idaho graduates in the sample frame, the overall educational level in one
county in particular (Blaine) was very high, with 43 percent having a bachelor’s
degree or higher compared to 26 percent in Valley County and 17 percent in
Bonner County (U.S. Bureau of the Census, 2000). In addition, those who
move when they are older tend to be more highly educated than the norm (Junk
et al., 1997), which would raise even further the expected average level of
educational attainment in the sample.
The sex of participants was almost evenly split. Three-quarters of
participants were married. The average age was 61, with a mode age of 51. The
range for age was 50-94 years. One-third worked full-time, 6 percent were
employed part-time, and nearly half were self-employed. Eleven percent of
longtime residents and 13 percent of newcomers were retired.
The mean home value for longtime residents ($273,994) was 60 percent of
that of new residents ($456,198) (p<.02). One problem with using the mean is
that it is sensitive to outlying values. For example, in Sun Valley there was a
cluster of homes at $1 million ranging up to one respondent with a home value
of $5 million. The median home value in this study was $250,000 for newcomers
and $200,000 for long-timers. This value compares to a median home value of
homeowners of all ages in the counties of $288,800 in Blaine County, $141,200
in Valley County, and $124,500 in Bonner County. The mode in the study was
$150,000 for newcomers and $200,000 for long-timers. These modes compare
to census data mode ranges that show the following ranges for the three counties:
Blaine County $300,000-$499,000, Valley County $100,000-$149,999, and
Bonner County $50,000-$149,999 (U.S. Bureau of the Census, 2000).
Since the median education and home values were higher than shown by
the census data, one would expect that the median income would also be higher.
This was the case. Median family income was $50,000-$64,999 compared to a
median income range of a low of $32,803 in Bonner County to a high of $50,496
in Blaine County. One would also expect that people age 50 and older would
have higher household income than all persons age 25 and older. The majority
of both newcomers and longtime residents had family incomes above $50,000.
Focus Group Responses

Comments from focus group participants provided insight into local
community issues. Most were very positive about how they would describe
their community to others who were thinking of moving there. A common
addendum to the statement was, “if they can afford it.” They thought quality of
life would be improved by dealing with growth issues such as increased traffic,
making a road to bypass the downtown area, repairing streets, and making it
safer to cross what has become a busy main street.
There was disagreement on how newcomers were affecting the community.
Some longtime residents believed that newcomers wanted to “Californiacate”
the area. They said, “People move here because they love the quality of life, and
then they want to change everything so it’s just like where they left.” Others said,
“Older newcomers add an energy and life to our community. They volunteer, and
one couple planted all these baskets of flowers on our main street and water them
by hand using milk jugs. No one in our town has been willing to do that before.”
Discussions of public services brought out the desire to have ambulances
respond with paramedics rather than emergency medical technicians. There
was concern about the affordability of local activities that drew people to the
community. Some newcomers wanted a public golf course with reasonable greens
fees and special price breaks for skiing and golf for seniors.
The groups discussed challenges facing their communities, with one of the
most common being housing affordability. They were worried not just for
themselves but also for their children who wanted to live in the area but could
not afford housing. Besides the purchase price, escalating property taxes were
a concern, particularly to the oldest focus group participants. Some of the older
participants in the groups saw two groups of elderly persons in their community:
those moving in with money and those who aged there.
One of the most interesting comments came from a group of businesspersons
in two of the three communities. They mentioned that they moved to the area in
the first place for a slower pace of life and to work hard in the summer so they
could ski and relax during the winter. However, people moving in from other
states do not understand the “gone fishing with grandson” or “gone skiing” sign
on the door of the business. They expect businesses to be open regular hours
year round, but this is not the norm for these businesspersons. There aren’t used
to and get irritated by customers who demand everything be done “immediately.”
DATA ANALYSIS
Chi Square Analyses
Analysis began by comparing percentages in various answer categories of
newcomers and longtime residents. The chi square statistic was used to determine
significant (p<.05) relationships between the answers of newcomers and longtime
residents and each variable of interest. The discussion of these findings follows.
Duration of Residence
When considering the independent variable of duration of residence with
the dependent variables, newcomer and longtime residents differed significantly
on three different issues. Compared to 23 percent of newcomers, 33 percent of
longtime residents were very concerned about growth (p<.04). Longtime
residents were also less satisfied than newcomers were with the cost of housing:
31 percent and 19 percent respectively (p<.02). Conversely, 42 percent of
newcomers – compared to 35 percent of longtime residents – felt that growth
was not being handled well within their communities (p<.02).
Sex
When examining the influence of sex on the dependent variables, females
were more concerned than males about employment opportunities (p<.05) and
public transportation options (p<.02). When compared to females, a greater
percentage of males felt that growth was not being handled well at all within
their communities (p<.01).
Age
The influence of age on the dependent variables indicated that people between
the ages of 65 and 74 were more concerned about land usage (p<.05) than people
in other age groups were concerned. Those over the age of 75 years were less
satisfied with the cost of housing (p<.02) than people in other age groups were.
Marital Status
Marital status significantly influenced the combined sample with regard to
level of concern about public transportation options (p<.03). Compared to 25
percent of married participants, 38 percent of unmarried participants were very
concerned about public transportation. Additionally, married and non-married
participants differed in their level of satisfaction about utility costs (p<.02) and
the cost of housing (p<.01). Compared to unmarried participants, married
participants considered themselves “moderately” to “very satisfied” with the
cost of utilities. When questioned about cost of housing, unmarried participants
were significantly less satisfied.
Employment Status
In consideration of employment status, self-employed people were
significantly more concerned with community leadership (p<.02) and less
satisfied with property taxes (p<.04) than those individuals in other categories
of employment were.
Level of Education
Regarding participants’ level of education, there were significant findings within
the category of growth. Overall, people with advanced degrees or beyond had
greater concern about growth (p<.02) than people in other categories of education
had.
Family Income
When examining family income, participants with family incomes less than
$24,999 were less satisfied with the cost of housing (p<.02) than participants in
other groups of family income level were. This was not surprising given the
high cost of housing in these resort communities.
Value of Home
When examining the influence of home value on the dependent variables,
there were significant findings within the category of cost of utilities. Overall,
people with home values in the range of $100,000 to $199,999 were less satisfied
with the cost of utilities (p<.03) than people in other home value groups were.
Logistic Regression Analyses

Because the theoretical model of interest was the gangplank theory, and
whether or not newcomers wished to move to high resource-amenity communities
and then, in effect, “draw up the gangplank,” we were especially interested in
the extent to which respondent’s views on various aspects of community growth
would be characteristic of being a newcomer or a longtime resident. Our
dependent variable is thus a binary variable, in which individuals were coded

“1” if they were newcomers and “2” if they were longtime residents. When the
dependent variable is a dichotomous variable, logistic regression is an appropriate
analysis tool (DeMaris, 1995). Logistic regression is an extension of multiple
regression techniques, in which the several independent variables are regressed
on a dependent variable (George & Mallery, 2001). Rather than setting up a
stepwise model, the independent variables of interest were simply entered in
one block.
The variables in the logistic regression included extent of concern about
both growth and land use, level of satisfaction with housing costs and restaurant
choices, the level of growth the person would support, and how well they thought
growth was being managed in their community. Concerns about growth and
land usage were measured using a Likert-type scale with four response choices
ranging from “not concerned” to “very concerned.” Satisfaction with housing
cost and with restaurant choices were measured using a Likert-type scale with
four response choices ranging from “not satisfied” to “very satisfied.” For the
question about level of growth the person would support, respondents were given
four choices ranging from “I would not support future growth” to “I would support
a lot of growth in this area.” For the last question in the logistic regression on
how well the person thought growth was being managed in their community,
they had three choices: “Not well at all,” “Fairly well,” and “Very well.”
Table 1. Logistic Regression of Time Lived in the Community and Predictors of

Concern About, or Satisfaction With, Community Issues.
Variable B S.E. Wald df sig.
Concern About Growth .120 .146 .675 1 .411
Concern About Land Use .183 .154 1.41 1 .234
Satisfaction with the Cost of Housing -.374 .130 8.27 1 .004**
Satisfaction with Restaurant Choices .277 .116 5.70 1 .017*
Level of Growth Would Support -.293 .180 2.63 1 .104
How well Growth is Managed .432 .182 5.64 1 .018*
Constant 1-.089 .850 .011 1 .916
*p<.05, ** p<.01
Three issues stood out as being significantly different for newcomers and
longtime residents (see Table 1). Newcomers were more likely to be concerned
about how growth was being managed. In the focus groups, newcomers
commented that they supported growth but did not see much evidence of long-
range planning to accommodate it. Newcomers were less likely to be satisfied
with restaurant choices. In Blaine County, there was the widest variety of choices,
most likely because of the proximity to the Sun Valley resort area, but the other
two counties had much more limited choices in restaurants. Longtime residents
were less likely to be satisfied with housing costs, but satisfaction with property
taxes was not a significant predictor, even though the rise in housing prices
brought increased valuation for taxation. In the focus groups, long-timers
commented about their concern that their children would not be able to buy a
home in the community and thus would have to move away.
DISCUSSION
The purpose of this study was to determine if there were significant
differences between older newcomer and longtime residents concerning their
opinions about community growth and change. The theoretical base was the
gangplank theory, which posits that newcomers who move to a high resource-
amenity area will want to restrict growth and change in an effort to maintain the
status quo. The population sampled consisted of persons age 50 and older from
three nonmetropolitan counties in Idaho. While results cannot be generalized
beyond this population, some interesting relationships were observed that might
hold true for older people in other nonmetropolitan areas.
Community Growth Variables

Longtime residents were significantly more concerned about growth than
newcomers were. Similar to the findings of Smith and Krannich (2000), these
findings do not support the gangplank theory. The newcomers’ apparent greater
comfort with growth could be based on the assumption that they had not lived in
the community over a long time period and had no memories of how things
“used to be” with regards to the community. However, both newcomer and
longtime residents with advanced degrees and between the ages of 65 and 74
showed greater concern about growth and land usage.
Economic Variables
When economic variables were considered, multiple findings were indicated.
Compared to longtime residents, newcomers were found to be more satisfied
with the affordability of housing in their communities. Notably, the mean home
values for newcomers were significantly higher than for longtime residents.
Female residents in both groups were less satisfied with the cost of housing.
Moreover, residents over the age of 75, and those participants who had incomes
less than $24,999 (whether newcomer or longtime resident) were also less
satisfied with the cost of housing. As housing demands increase, rent goes up
and affordability becomes more of an issue for those on limited incomes. In
addition, the continued rise in property values places economic stress on longtime
property owners because of the resulting increase in property taxes.
Participants’ opinions about land usage were significantly related to their
age. One possible reason for elevated concern could be the realization of how
property taxes will affect their disposable income after they retire. Age also
related to the level of satisfaction that longtime residents had about the cost of
housing. This concern may stem from a rise in property values because of the
influx of newcomers creating an increasing demand on the local housing market.
As compared to newcomers, longtime residents seemed to be less satisfied
with many economic variables and more concerned about growth variables. For
community and county decision-makers, this diversity can portend a potential
conflict between the issues new older residents want addressed, as compared to
the issues of concern to longtime residents. While longtime residents are
concerned about economic issues such as the costs of housing and utilities,
newcomers appear to be concerned with the issues related to the handling of
growth and land usage.
IMPLICATIONS
As a result of people over age 50 choosing to reside in areas that are filled
with natural amenities, the intermountain west and other parts of the country in
amenity-rich areas have experienced much growth in their older population.
Although the three high resource-amenity counties represented in this study have
attracted older in-migrants, the data do not support that newcomers oppose
growth. In essence, the majority of the newcomers in this study did not want to
pull up the gangplank in order to restrict community change. They were, instead,
concerned about how growth and change would be handled. Further study could
ascertain specific growth issues in order to illustrate what newcomer and longtime
residents would like, specifically, to have done differently. For example, after
the data were presented to the communities, one planning official wanted to
know if older persons would support an airport expansion – what he termed
“actionable information.”
The results of this study show differing levels of concern about community
issues for newcomer and longtime residents. This study classified newcomers
and longtime residents based on the number of years in the community. Other
determinants may exist that would make someone a “newcomer.” For example,
some people move into a community and quickly become involved in community
activities and organizations. Others stay more distant and may not feel a part of
the community as quickly, if ever. Some communities make newcomers feel
more welcome than others and make it easier to become acquainted and
participate in activities. Further studies that identify additional characteristics
of newcomers, other than number of years in the community, could contribute to
the understanding of potential conflict between what newcomers and longtime
residents want.
The differences of opinions between newcomers and longtime residents
toward community change play an important role in determining when or if
local action is to be undertaken. When considering the diverse attitudes of both
newcomer and longtime residents toward change, community modifications need
to be done cautiously. Differences of opinion about growth may create a general
lack of support for efforts, which can lead to possible conflicts or block efforts
altogether. Understanding the dynamics of these attitudes may assist community

development practitioners in implementing more effective community change.
As with any study, the most important part is often what is done with the
information. We know that many high resource-amenity small communities are
undergoing change as they move from an agricultural, logging, or other industry
community toward being a resort community. The beauty of mountains, forests,
lakes, and streams, the lack of congestion, and slower pace of life attract older
persons looking for a place to retire. As community developers consider attracting
persons age 50 and older, comprehension of the impact an expanding proportion
of older newcomers has on nonmetropolitan communities is essential. Those
who determine public policies – in addition to those in the business community
who provide products and services – can benefit by looking ahead to an ever-
increasing wave of older persons and developing plans for capitalizing on and
serving this group. These strategies include considering the following dynamics.
• In-migrants over age 50 buy homes, products, and services. They bring
new sources of income into the area. Older customers tend to be loyal
customers if good service is provided.
• Older in-migrants bring skills and experiences that might benefit their
communities. Recognize and encourage the volunteer resource and
experiences older persons bring to a community.
• Program stoplights to allow time for older residents to cross.
• Inform those involved in determining the location of a new post office
the importance of maintaining a central downtown location in small
communities.
• Provide information to older persons who are unfamiliar with reverse
annuity mortgages that might allow them to remain independent and in
their homes. Pair this information with a review of the effect of property
tax policies on older homeowners.
• Encourage longtime and newcomer residents to cooperate in effecting
public policy and long-range planning. Because longtime residents
are concerned about seasonal older resident’s effect on the community,
getting the groups together may clarify some perceptions about
similarities in residents’ interests in community issues and events.
• Considering having paramedic-staffed ambulances, particularly if
traffic congestion or distance to a medical facility causes much delay
in treatment of problems more common in an older population such as
falls, heart attacks, and strokes.
• Growth places increased demand on the infrastructure of the area, but
particularly with a proportionally older population, there will be more
need for public services. After age 75, people depend more on public
transportation, senior centers, and health services, which may include
adult day care, in-home health, and nursing home care. If communities
are ill-prepared for a shift to an older population, public services and
facilities can become overtaxed.
• Explore ways to provide lower cost local housing to service employees,
so there will be a sufficient labor pool to provide the services that an
increasingly older population needs. With commensurately lower
salaries, those in service jobs often cannot afford housing and the cost
of living in high resource-amenity communities.
Last, an influx of older newcomers can subtly change a community in ways
this study did not measure. Qualitative studies that allow the researcher to spend
several months living in a community could identify factors not evident in the
study reported here. As these communities continue to grow and change, the
need for actionable research will become increasingly important.
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RESIDENT ATTITUDES TOWARD A

PROPOSED LIMESTONE QUARRY
By Sezer Göncüolu-Eser, A.E. Luloff,
and Rex H. Warland
ABSTRACT
A limestone quarry proposal in a small Pennsylvania community triggered disagreements among
residents. Some actively opposed the quarry while a small group supported it. The majority of
residents did not become involved in the issue. This research examines why residents responded
differently to the operation of this quarry in their community. First, key and action informant
interviews were conducted. Next, a content analysis of these interviews was used to develop a
survey questionnaire. The survey was administered through a drop-off/pick-up method, eliciting a
return rate of 69.7 percent. The strongest predictor of quarry attitude was attitude toward private
property rights. Respondents who supported private property rights had favorable attitudes toward
the quarry. Other significant predictors included environmental behavior, proportion of friends in
the community, length of residence, level of involvement in community activities, and participation
in a local festival. Implications of these findings for community development are discussed.
Keywords: Newcomers, oldtimers, natural resource use
INTRODUCTION
In rural and small communities, proposed changes in natural resource uses
have the propensity to become sources of conflict. Despite perceptions to the
contrary, residence in such areas is not an indication of common behaviors or
goals related to uses of the area’s natural resources. Newcomers, especially those
from larger more urban areas, often hold preservationist orientations toward the
natural environment. In contrast, established residents are regularly depicted as
holding utilitarian priorities, reflecting their involvement in extractive occupations,
such as farming, logging, and mining (cf. Hays, 1987; Bourke & Luloff, 1994). A
better understanding of these differing interests could help rural and small
communities respond more effectively to their changing economy and environment.
When an extra-local mining company proposed to operate a limestone quarry
in Haines Township, Pennsylvania, a group of largely newcomer residents
organized to oppose it. There were few vocal proponents of the quarry in the
community; the majority of residents did not become involved in the issue. We
investigate how length of residence, community attachment, attitudes toward
private property rights, and environmental behavior affected residents’ attitudes
Sezer Göncüolu-Eser, Post Doctoral Scholar; A.E. Luloff,Professor of Rural Sociology; and Rex
H. Warland, Professor Emeritus of Rural Sociology. Correnspondence can directed to A.E. Luloff,
Department of Agricultural Economics and Rural Sociology, The Pennsylvania State University,
University Park, Pennsylvania 16802. Email: [email protected].
toward the quarry. First, we review the literature on community attachment and
attitude differences between newcomers and oldtimers on environmental issues.
Then, we explain our methodology, briefly describe the study site and quarry
issue, and present and discuss our survey findings with the help of interview data.
Community Attachment and Newcomer-Oldtimer Disputes

Most definitions of community include references to geographic territory
(locale), local society, collective actions, and mutual identity (Wilkinson, 1991;
Luloff & Bridger, 2003). Our focus is on the “… complex system of friendship
and kinship networks and formal and informal associational ties rooted in family
life and on-going socialization processes” (Kasarda & Janowitz, 1974, p. 329).
Residents become attached to their communities through such interpersonal
and organizational ties (Goudy, 1990; Kasarda & Janowitz, 1974). Attachment
through these social bonds leads to positive sentiments toward the community
and, in turn, enhances residents’ attachments (Goudy, 1990).
Community attachment relates to three systemic variables: length of
residence, socioeconomic status, and age (Goudy, 1990; Kasarda & Janowitz,
1974; Sampson, 1988). Longer time spent in a place leads to selectivity in social
relations and produces sentiments that are more positive toward the community.
Higher status residents tend to exhibit more interest in community affairs because
they have more education and discretionary resources to articulate their interests
(Coleman, 1957; Crain & Rosenthal, 1967; McCarthy & Zald, 1977). In addition,
such residents have “… greater stake(s) … which usually generates concern
with community affairs” (Kasarda & Janowitz, 1974, p. 335).
Residents often respond to controversial issues based on existing community
attachments (Coleman, 1957; Gamson, 1966). Those who identify their well
being with that of the community try to constrain disagreements (Coleman, 1957).
If opposing parties are bound by friendship, shared backgrounds, and/or
organizational ties, disagreements on community issues seldom ascend to enmity
(Gamson, 1966).
Background characteristics of community members are important factors
in local responses to controversial issues. Differences among community
members with respect to their length of residence and socioeconomic status can
create a milieu for episodes of conflict. Gamson (1966, p. 73) noted:
[A]ny clear-cut basis of differentiation among the citizens of a town may
provide a structural basis for the development of inter-group hostility if
there also exists strains and low integration among solitary groups.
Many newcomers to rural and small communities differ from established
residents. Research has shown that newcomers tend to be younger and have, on
average, higher levels of education and better-paying jobs (Bell, 1992; Graber,
1974; Ploch, 1978; Smith & Krannich, 2000; Sofranko & Williams, 1980).
Johnson & Fuguitt (2000) focused attention on the age-specific trends of rural
in-migration. They suggested that individuals in their thirties with children were
Göncüolu-Eser, Luloff, and Warland 95
regularly drawn to commuter counties whereas older adults were drawn to

recreation counties. Regardless, newcomers often introduce different
consumption and cultural practices to receiving communities (Berry, 2000).
According to Coleman (1957, p.7):
Whenever a difference in values and in interests is created by the influx
of new residents, it becomes a potential basis of conflicting response
and sets the stage for precipitating incidents.
Disagreements between newcomers and oldtimers can occur over a
multiplicity of issues including historical preservation (Graber, 1974; Spain,
1993), service provision (Johnson, 1998; Price & Clay, 1980), tax increases
(Fliegel, 1980; Ploch, 1980), economic development (Pahl, 1968; Voss, 1980),
and land uses (Israel & Beaulieu, 1990; Rudel, 1989).
Attitude Differences toward the Environment and Land Use

Not surprisingly, controversies over environmental and land use issues in
rural and small town areas often reflect differences between the values of
newcomers and those of oldtimers (Bell, 1992; Graber, 1974; Schnaiberg, 1986;
Shumway and Lethbridge, 1998; Spain, 1993). Previous research indicates that
newcomers of urban origin, overall, are more likely to be committed to
environmental protection (Ploch, 1978; Schnaiberg, 1986; Skogen, 2001;
Tremblay & Dunlap, 1978). At the same time, other studies suggest that
environmental concern is not necessarily an urban stance (Blahna, 1990;
Fortmann & Kusel, 1990; Jones et al., 1999; Smith & Krannich, 2000; Theodori
& Luloff, 2000). Fortmann and Kusel (1990) suggest that pro-environmental
attitudes in smaller, rural communities are not necessarily introduced by urban
in-migrants. Instead, newcomers give voice to extant environmental concerns
by importing their organizational linkages and mobilization skills. Urban
newcomers are more likely than oldtimers to have entrepreneurial, political,
and leadership skills as well as access to discretionary resources (Blahna, 1990;
Brown, 2002; Hamilton, 1985; Mohai, 1985; Schnaiberg, 1986). Hence, they
more easily mobilize when they perceive a threat to their quality of life.
Rural and small town residents also have different attitudes toward land use
regulations. Such residents routinely rely on informal social controls to regulate
land use (Rudel, 1989). Newcomers’ efforts to enact official land use controls
may lead to conflicts because established residents are traditionally against
government interference in property decisions (Dailey Jr. & Campbell, 1980;
Garkovich, 1982; Israel & Beaulieu, 1990). Negative attitudes are especially
prevalent among farmers and residents in resource related industries. The latter
tend to regard land use planning as an anathema, used to prevent them from
sustaining their livelihood (Rudel, 1984, 1989). Further, oldtimer residents in
rural and small towns may consider newcomers’ endeavors for environmental
and historical protection and related land use regulations a threat to their sense
of identity and way of life (Carroll, 1995).
Perceptions of threats to local ways of life, well being, and collective identity
may affect oldtimers’ attitudes toward changes in natural resources and land
uses in a variety of ways. For example, residents of Laurel Mountain (West
Virginia) organized against an extra-local mining company’s proposal to operate
a limestone quarry in their community and prevented it from opening (Steelman
& Carmin, 1998). Community members regarded the proposed quarry as a threat
to their traditional way of life and collective well-being. They believed the quarry
would degrade local springs, air, natural habitat, and the aesthetics of their
community and, as a result, their quality of life. In Tooele, Utah, many oldtimers
hoped that the county’s stigmatization as a contaminated place would keep
potential newcomers away (Wulfhorst, 2000). They were more concerned about
the alteration of their lifestyles by newcomers than about the risks posed by
hazardous waste management operation in their county. And, in Trysil, Norway,
residents who had strong ties to forestry, hunting, and livestock farming regarded
attempts to protect the carnivore populations as a threat to their way of life
(Skogen, 2001). Trysil residents resisted pro-carnivore attitudes by actively
defending their experiences with nature and rejecting the environmentalists’
definition of the carnivore problem. Their negative attitudes toward the predators
were closely connected to resentments toward “city people” who have never
seen mutilated sheep.
Not all rural areas have been affected by newcomer/oldtimer disagreements.
Indeed, Smith and Krannich (2000) suggested that newcomers and oldtimers in
their study communities had more “common ground” than what was perceived
by either group. A better understanding of this common ground, or of the multiple
and often contradictory orientations, would help community developers address
and mitigate possible conflicts and enhance community-building efforts based
on increased understanding, respect, and cooperation towards others (Smith &
Krannich, 2000. p. 418). Taken together, preservationist and utilitarian
orientations toward natural resources and land use could create both opportunities
and constraints for rural communities. The challenge is to properly integrate
these orientations into local decision-making. Wilkinson (1991, p.117) asserted
that “community development itself is an ‘inside job,’ a process of community-
building by community actors and groups.” It requires local actors – newcomers
and oldtimers, preservationists and utilitarians – to act collectively to pursue
multiple community interests which would relate to all aspects of local life –
social, cultural, economic, and environmental.
Based on our understanding of the literature and informant interviews, we
hypothesized that in Haines Township: (1) newcomers would be more likely
than oldtimers to oppose the quarry; (2) residents with higher levels of
community attachment would be more likely to hold a neutral position toward
the quarry; (3) residents who defended private property rights would be more
likely to support the quarry; and (4) pro-environmental residents would be more
likely to oppose the quarry. Sociodemographic variables were used as controls.
Description of the Study Site

Haines Township is located in the Penns Valley Region of Centre County,
Pennsylvania. There are two settlements in the township, Aaronsburg and Woodward,
both founded in 1786. Haines Township has recently experienced amenity-driven
in-migration. In 1994, the population was 1,341. By 2000, 1,479 people lived
there. Informants indicated that these in-migrants were drawn to the area for its
historical and natural qualities, its relative isolation, and reasonable land prices.
Haines draws much of its natural quality from two creeks – Elk and Pine –
that run through the township. These creeks merge outside the township and
flow into Penns Creek, nationally known for its trout fisheries.
From settlement, the community evolved around farming and farm related
industries. Agriculture remains its dominant industry. Internationally renowned
Woodward Gymnastic Camp provides seasonal employment. There are also
several small-scale businesses, including beds and breakfasts, antique shops,
sawmills, welding shops, and garages. Employment outside the township
constitutes the most important part of the local economy. About eighty percent
of the work force commutes to work elsewhere.
Three local churches are the primary community groups in Haines Township.
Regular interactions in and around these churches help residents satisfy their spiritual
and social needs. Other organizations include a civic club, a festival committee,
two community-owned water companies, a museum association, a planning
committee, and an environmental organization – founded to oppose the quarry.
METHODS
Data Collection
Data for this study were drawn from a survey administered to a representative
sample of adult residents in Haines Township. Before conducting fieldwork, we
gathered secondary information from the U.S. Census, local historical documents,
newspapers articles, and newsletters of a local environmental organization. This
information helped us understand historic and current trends and provided
important insights for framing our key and action informant interviews (Luloff,
1999; Göncüolu-Eser & Luloff, 2003).
Next, we conducted key informant interviews. Through a combined
positional and snowball sampling approach, eighteen key informants were
identified and interviewed. Key informant interviews addressed general local
actions taken during the last ten years with regard to economic development,
the natural environment, or a specific community need. These interviews revealed
that the proposed limestone quarry was the most important recent issue affecting
the community, and that it created disagreements among residents.
To gather information that was more detailed about the quarry issue, action
informant interviews were conducted. Action informants were individuals who
were reported to know the quarry issue in great detail. We contacted three action
informants each from the opponent and proponent sides. Informants from the
opponent side agreed to be interviewed without hesitation. Only one proponent

informant consented to participating in an interview.
Content analyses of key and action informant interviews contributed to the
construction of a survey instrument, which addressed current community issues
in general, and the quarry issue in particular. Analyses of these interviews helped
to generate our hypotheses, and they were used to interpret survey results.
The survey questionnaire addressed current community issues, community
involvement, pro-environmental behavior, length of residence, and
sociodemographic characteristics. The sampling frame was compiled from the
most recent real estate tax list and consisted of all 454 residences.
Surveys were administered in March 1998 through a drop-off/pick-up survey
method (Steele et al., 2001; Riley & Kiger, 2002). Fieldworkers personally
delivered and collected the completed questionnaires. In each household, one
resident, 18 years of age or older whose birthday occurred most recently, was
randomly selected as the respondent. If that person was unavailable, the
fieldworker requested an adult member to give the survey to her/him. Respondent
selection was also explained in the cover letter. The working sample consisted
of 327 households. A total of 294 questionnaires were delivered and 228 usable
responses were retrieved, representing a response rate of 69.7 percent.
The Quarry Issue

The quarry issue began in 1992 when a mining company from a nearby town
bought 494 acres of township farmland. Before this sale, Centre Foods Enterprises
owned the land. They had leased it to local farmers to grow vegetables for its
canning business. The farmland was located close to the residential area in
Aaronsburg. According to informants, a group of newcomer residents were alarmed
about a possible quarry in their backyard and organized a community meeting to
discuss the issue. Many Aaronsburg residents attended the meeting. Some of the
newcomers’ patronizing attitudes at the meeting alienated many oldtimer
participants. Indeed, most informants affirmed that this meeting determined the
character of the quarry issue from the beginning as “newcomers vs. oldtimers.”
Residents understood that the proposed quarry would provide few, if any,
employment opportunities for community members since the mining company
was from a nearby town and their operation was highly mechanized. There
were only three vocal proponents in the community. According to informants,
two of them had previous business relations with the quarry owners. Both
expected to do some work with the quarry. Indeed, they were hired as contract
workers once the operation started.
The opponents of the quarry established a nonprofit formal organization known
as the Penns Valley Conservation Association (PVCA). This group capitalized on
the natural and historical qualities of the area to advance their opposition.
PVCA’s major political action was its petition to the state Department of
Environmental Resources (DER) requesting a stream quality re-designation for
Elk and Pine Creeks from”“cold water fishery” to “exceptional value waters.”
Limestone springs at the lower sections of Elk and Pine Creek basins provide
large amounts of cold water that allows Elk, Pine, and Penns Creeks to have the
cool water essential for trout fisheries. PVCA argued that wastewater from the
proposed quarry would disrupt the creeks’ thermal regime and destroy the trout
habitat through sedimentation. The group hoped that “exceptional value”
designation would prevent the quarry from opening since such designation does
not allow any activity that would degrade existing water quality.
In addition to their opposition activities, PVCA members worked on other
local projects. This included helping to establish the Haines Township Planning
Commission that was charged with preparing a comprehensive plan. However,
both the petition for “exceptional value” and initiation of a comprehensive plan
raised additional concerns in the community. Many feared these changes would
restrict existing flexibility in land use practices.
PVCA organized its opposition professionally and attracted outside support
from national organizations, such as the Sierra Club and Trout Unlimited. Despite
these efforts, the group did not stop the quarry from opening. It did, however,
delay quarry operations until 1997 and the downstream sections of Elk and
Pine Creeks were re-designated as “exceptional value waters.” As a result, the
Pennsylvania Department of Environmental Protection (DEP, formerly DER)
licensed the quarry for operation under strict environmental regulation.
Measures
Residents’ attitude toward the quarry, our dependent variable, was measured
with eight Likert-type items (strongly agree to strongly disagree). We randomly
placed these items in a battery that also included six items related to other local
issues. All statements were drawn from the key and action informant interviews.
Factor analysis was used to simplify these items. We derived a scale of quarry
attitude by calculating the mean of the eight items that factored together (Table
1). Internal consistency of the quarry attitude scale was assessed with Alpha
(0.86); a higher score indicated a more pro-quarry attitude.
Length of residence. Earlier, several studies used 10 years as the dividing
line between newcomers and oldtimers. These studies assumed that 10 years of
residence in a community was sufficient to integrate and adapt to a new
environment (Graber, 1974; Sofranko & Williams, 1980; Fortmann & Kusel,
1990). Following this rationale, we used residence of at least 10 years to
differentiate between oldtimers and newcomers.
Community Attachment. Level of community attachment was measured by
questions adopted from previous studies (Goudy, 1990; Kasarda & Janowitz,
1974; Sampson, 1988). It included two variables: community sentiments and
local social bonds. Three questions measured community sentiments. The first
asked whether respondents do not feel at home at all (1), feel somewhat at home
(2), or feel very much at home in their community (3). The second asked “If for
some reason you had to move away from this community, how sorry or pleased
would you be to leave?” A response of 1 indicated that the respondent would be
“very pleased;” a response of 5 indicated that the respondent would be “very

sorry.” The last question inquired how interested respondents were in knowing
what goes on in their community. Responses ranged from (1) very disinterested
to (5) very interested. The Alpha reliability coefficient for the three items was
low (0.54); therefore, each was entered into the analysis separately.
Table 1. Structure Matrix for Items Measuring Respondents’ PositionToward the

Limestone Quarry
Item Limestone Quarry
The action of Penns Valley Conservation Association

has been beneficial for Haines Township 0.854
The designation of Elk and Pine Creeks as

“exceptional value” watersheds will help preserve
them for future generations 0.766
Penns Valley Conservation Association does not

represent the residents of Haines Township 0.732
The limestone quarry will deteriorate the quality of

life in Aaronsburg and the surrounding communities 0.728
The designation of Elk and Pine Creeks as

“exceptional value” watersheds has made farming
more expensive 0.652
The limestone quarry will benefit the community

by providing job opportunities 0.630
Having a comprehensive plan will help limit residential,

industrial, and commercial growth 0.514
A comprehensive plan would further restrict

private property rights 0.360
N = 186
Eigenvalue 4.08
Percent of Variation Explained 44.95
Cronbach’s Alpha 0.86
Extraction Method: Principal Axis Factoring
Local social bonds consisted of interpersonal ties and organizational ties.

Five questions measured the level of interpersonal ties. The first asked about the
proportion of the respondent’s friends living in the community. Responses ranged
from (1) none of them to (5) all. The same categories were used for a question
on the proportion of relatives living in the respondent’s community. A third
question asked respondents to indicate the number of close, personal relationships
they had in their community. The fourth was “Of the 10 houses closest to your
home, how many have you been in?” The fifth question asked how many adults
among the residents of the 10 closest houses respondents knew on a first name
basis. These items were entered separately into the analysis since they measured
different dimensions of interpersonal ties.
Three questions measured organizational ties. Responses to the level of

involvement in community activities, events, or organizations ranged from (1)
not active at all to (4) very active. One question asked whether respondents
belonged to any community or local area organization. This variable was
dichotomous with “yes” (1) and “no” (0) categories. An index composed of six
“yes/no” items measured the respondent’s level of participation in a local festival
known as the Haines Township Fall Festival (HTFF). HTFF is a local weekend
activity first organized in the late 1970s. All profits from the festival are used to
finance community projects. We asked whether respondents: (1) plan; (2)
organize; (3) contribute financial support; (4) contribute goods and/or services;
(5) work in the booths; and/or (6) attend the festival. Internal consistency of the
index was satisfactory (Alpha = .78). The mean of the six items was used as the
score for the festival scale. Higher scores on this measure reflected participation
in more HTFF-related activities.1
Environmental behavior. This scale was composed of seven “yes/no” items
(yes=1) adopted from a previous study (Theodori et al., 1998). We asked
respondents whether in the previous year they had contributed money and time
to an environmental group, stopped buying a product because it caused
environmental problems, attended a public hearing or meeting about the
environment, or contacted a government agency to get information or complain
about an environmental problem. Other questions investigated whether the
respondents read a conservation or environmental magazine, watched a television
special on the environment, and whether they voted for or against a political
candidate because of his/her environmental stance. The mean of these items
was used as the environmental behavior scale with a higher score indicating
more pro-environmental behavior. Internal consistency of the scale was
satisfactory (Alpha=0.75).
Attitude toward private property rights. A single question asked respondents
the degree to which they agreed or disagreed with the statement “Everybody should
have the right to do whatever they want with their land.” The latter statement
emerged from the comments of many of the key and action informants. The
response categories were coded from (1) strongly disagree to (5) strongly agree.
Sociodemographic Variables. Following previous studies (Jones et al., 1999;
Theodori et al., 1998; Van Liere et al., 1980), seven sociodemographic variables
were included as control factors. These were: age (years); gender (female=1);
parental status (have children under 18 years of age living at home=1); education
(did not complete high school=1, completed high school or equivalent=2, some
college or post high school training=3, completed college=4, and graduate or
professional training beyond college=5); occupation (non-professional and non-
technical=1); household income (9,999 or under=1, 10,000 to 14,999=2, 15,000
to 19,999=3, 20,000 to 24,999=4, 25,000 to 29,999=5, 30,000 to 49,999=6,
50,000 to 74,999=7; and 75,000 or more=8); and political view (liberal=1,
moderate-liberal=2, moderate=3, moderate-conservative=4, conservative=5, and
none=6.) 2 Categories for political view were reverse coded for analysis.
FINDINGS
The typical respondent was a 51 year old married high school educated
female, with an income of between $30,000 and $49,999. The vast majority
were oldtimers (72 percent had resided there ten years or more).
The average respondent was an established resident reasonably attached to
the community.3 The mean attitude toward the quarry and toward private property
rights was neutral, while the mean involvement in behavioral aspects of
environmentalism was moderate.
Bivariate Analyses
We first examined the quarry attitude using bivariate analysis. Zero-order
correlations indicated that ten variables were significantly correlated with quarry
attitude: education, occupation, political view, income, length of residence,
interest in community, membership in organizations, participation in HTFF,
attitude toward private property rights, and environmental behavior. Attitude
toward private property rights and environmental behavior had the strongest
correlations with the dependent variable (see Appendix 1 for the full correlation
matrix for the variables used in this analysis).
Next, we conducted a series of difference-of-means tests (t-tests) to ascertain
whether oldtimers and newcomers differed (Table 2). Three statistically
significant sociodemographic differences emerged. Oldtimers were older, had
lower levels of education, and less income. No statistically significant differences
existed between the two groups of residents in terms of gender, occupation,
political view, or parental status.
Nor did any significant differences exist between newcomers’ and oldtimers’
feelings at home or interest in the community. Oldtimers were significantly
more likely to indicate that they would feel sorry if they had to leave their
community for some reason.
Strong and statistically significant differences existed between oldtimers
and newcomers with respect to all five indicators of interpersonal ties. Oldtimers
were more likely than newcomers to have more friends, relatives, and close
relationships (more than twice as many) in the community and to know more
adults and have been in more neighboring houses. Oldtimers and newcomers
did not differ significantly from each other with respect to their involvements in
community activities, events, or organizations and in organizational memberships.
However, oldtimers were significantly more likely to participate in HTFF
activities.
Both oldtimers and newcomers reported a close-to-neutral position toward
private property rights. No difference between oldtimers’ and newcomers’
involvements in behavioral aspects of environmentalism was found. Finally,
oldtimers were more likely than newcomers to support the quarry. This difference
was statistically significant.
Table 2. Difference-of-Means Tests for the Samples of Oldtimers and Newcomers
Oldtimers Newcomers
(N = 154)a (N = 61)
Mean Scores t-value
Sociodemographics
Gender 0.57 0.47 1.27
Age 53.87 44.45 3.89***
Education 2.48 2.89 -2.43*
Occupation 0.48 0.35 1.51
Income 4.77 5.55 -2.35*
Political View 3.21 3.30 -0.35
Parental Status 0.40 0.53 -1.46
Community Attachment
Community Sentiments
Feeling at Home 2.78 2.64 1.86
Sorry/Pleased to Leave 4.35 3.98 2.93**
Interest in Community 4.29 4.32 -0.28
Local Social Bonds
Interpersonal Ties
Proportion of Friends 2.94 2.41 3.95***
Proportion of Relatives 2.31 1.73 3.79***
Number of Close Relations 14.07 5.87 2.73***
Number of Houses Been In 6.64 4.18 5.23***
Number of Adults Known 13.49 8.00 3.66***
Organizational Ties
Level of Involvement 2.41 2.22 1.35
Organization Membership 0.48 0.40 0.95
Participation in HTFF 0.52 0.36 3.10**
Attitude to Private Property 3.25 2.95 1.45
Environmental Behavior 0.44 0.44 0.07
Quarry Attitude 2.86 2.60 2.06*
a
The specific number of cases used in the tests varied due to missing data.
* Significant at p<0.05; ** significant at p<0.01; *** significant at p<0.001.
Multivariate Analyses
We analyzed attitude toward the quarry using a combination of hierarchical
and stepwise regression methods. First, variable sets were sequentially entered
into the analysis to assess their impact on the quarry attitude. We began with the
sociodemographic control variables, and then added length of residence, community
sentiments, interpersonal ties, organizational ties, attitude toward private property
rights, and environmental behavior to build the complete model. This model
accounted for about 30 percent of the variation in quarry attitude (Table 3).
Proportion of friends in the community, level of involvement in community
activities, attitude toward private property rights (the most significant and strongest
coefficient in the model), and environmental behavior were significant predictors.
Table 3. Hierarchical and Stepwise Regression Analyses of the Quarry Attitude
Standardized Regression Coefficients

Reduced Models
Complete Model Model 1 Model 3 Model 4
Sociodemographics
Gender -0.067 -0.071
Age 0.031 0.021
Education 0.086 0.051
Occupation 0.115 0.129 0.135*
Political View -0.093 -0.090
Income -0.076
Parental Status 0.053
Length of Residence 0.170 20.175 0.147* 0.172**
Feeling at Home 0.020 0.015
Sorry/Pleased to Leave -0.118 -0.114
Interest in Community -0.022 -0.011
Local Social Bonds
Interpersonal Ties
Proportion of Friends -0.219* -0.219* -0.222** -0.223***
Proportion of Relatives -0.045 -0.036
Number of Close Relations 0.109 0.096
Number of Houses Been In -0.005 -0.019
Number of Adults Known 0.058 0.063
Organizational Ties
Level of Involvement 0.189* 0.191 0.157*
Organization Membership -0.104 -0.096
Participation in HTFF -0.113 -0.102 -0.136*
Attitude to Private Property 0.337*** 0.348*** 0.369*** 0.378***
Environmental Behavior -0.226* -0.229* -0.213** -0.240***
Constant 2.897 2.754 2.642 2.552
Adjusted R2 0.304 0.324 0.315 0.321
N 139 161 178 203
* Significant at p<0.05; ** significant at p<0.01; *** significant at p<0.001
In the complete model, missing data on one or more measures reduced the
sample by nearly 40 percent. To increase sample size, parental status and
household income were excluded from the analysis. Survey respondents regularly
refuse to answer sensitive questions (Bailey, 1994, p. 132). Parental status and
total household income had the lowest numbers of responses in the sample (167
and 175 respectively). Further, neither measure emerged as a significant predictor
in any hierarchical regression equation. Their exclusion raised the sample size
to 161 and the adjusted R2 also increased (0.324).
To simplify the model, we next used stepwise regression. Stepwise regression
analysis is designed to approach the maximum R2 with the minimum number of
independent variables that make the largest contributions (Cohen and Cohen,
1983, p.124). We conducted stepwise regression by elimination. First, all
independent variables were entered simultaneously into the analysis. At each
stage, we dropped non-significant variables that made small contributions to R2
from the regression. Then, the remaining variables were regressed on quarry
attitude. These analyses yielded Model 3 that also explained about 32 percent of
the variation in attitudes toward the quarry, using 178 cases. Significant variables
included occupation, length of residence, proportion of friends in the community,
attitude toward private property rights, and environmental behavior. This model,
however, failed to include a significant number of cases, raising questions about
whether it adequately described the sample.
To increase the number of cases available for multivariate analysis, we next
excluded occupation from the model and conducted another stepwise regression
analysis. The exclusion of occupation was based on its weak relationship with
quarry attitude (it had the smallest coefficient) and the fact that no significant
difference between oldtimers and newcomers on this measure existed. Model 4
is the final reduced model (Table 3). It too explained 32 percent of the variation,
but included data on an additional 25 residents (14% more cases). Significant
predictors were length of residence, proportion of friends in the community, the
level of involvement in community activities, events, or organizations,
participation in the HTFF, attitude toward private property rights (the strongest
predictor of quarry attitude), and environmental behavior.
Private property advocates not only strongly supported the quarry but also
seemed to represent a group of loners who participated less in community.4
They were less likely to be interested in knowing what went on in the community
(r = -0.25, p<0.01), to be involved in community activities (r = -0.19, p<0.01),
to belong to community organizations (r = -0.20, p<0.01), or to participate in
the HTFF (r = -0.20, p<0.01).
Although this paper primarily focused on attitude differences toward the
quarry, we also conducted a series of one-way ANOVA and Tukey multiple
comparison tests to examine whether private property advocates differed from
other residents in their attachment to the community. For these analyses, we
collapsed the variable, attitude toward private property, into three categories:
(1) disagree, (2) neither agree nor disagree, and (3) agree. Respondents who
agreed that “Everybody should have the right to do whatever they want with
their land” and those who disagreed with the same statement significantly differed
from each other on five indicators of community attachment. These were interest
in knowing what goes on in the community, proportion of friends living in the
community, and all three measures of organizational ties (Table 4).
Attitude toward private property rights was the strongest predictor of quarry
attitude. Respondents who felt that “everybody should have the right to do
whatever they want with their land” had the most favorable attitudes toward the
quarry. They also seemed less involved in the community, as indicated by their
being less likely: (1) to be interested in knowing what went on in their community;
(2) to get involved in community activities, events, or organizations; (3) to have
memberships in community organizations; and (4) to participate in the HTFF

activities. They did, however, have more friends in the community. These findings
contradicted what stepwise regression analyses of the quarry attitude revealed
about three indicators of community attachment (proportion of friends, level of
involvement, and participation in HTFF). This discrepancy could reflect small
sample size; however, since we explored the joint performance of all independent
variables in the multivariate model, changes in the direction of these three
indicators were not unexpected.
Table 4. Multiple Comparison Tests for Attitude toward Private Property
Dependent Variable Attitude toward Private Property F-value

Neither Agree
Disagree Nor Disagree Agree
Proportion of Friends 2.61 2.71 2.97 3.63*
Interest in Community 4.49 4.26 4.14 5.65**
Level of Involvement 2.55 2.35 2.18 3.47*
Organization Membership 0.60 0.29 0.39 6.24**
Participation in HTFF 0.56 0.42 0.42 4.19*
* Significant at p<0.05; ** significant at p<0.01; *** significant at p<0.001
Underlined categories are significantly different from each other. A single underlined category
indicates that it is significantly different from the rest.
Attitude toward private property rights explained, to some extent, the

majority’s inaction regarding the quarry. Some residents’ uneasiness about
possible restrictions on private property rights might have overshadowed their
concern about the quarry, which in turn led to inaction. Such inaction should not
be considered a non-action. Informant interviews suggested it was, in fact, an
action taken against newcomers’ indifference to established land use patterns.
Our interviews also indicated a general dissatisfaction with newcomers’
patronizing attitudes. In addition, lack of discretionary sources (time and money)
might have played a role in some residents’ indifference toward the quarry issue.
For example, we found that private property advocates were more likely than
others to work in non-professional and non-technical jobs and to earn less money.5
DISCUSSION AND CONCLUSIONS

Previous research has shown that newcomers to rural and small communities
often want to preserve the natural qualities of their new residences (Bell, 1992;
Graber, 1974; Schnaiberg, 1986; Shumway & Lethbridge, 1998; Spain, 1993).
Our findings support this inference. Newcomers of Haines Township were more
likely than oldtimers to oppose the quarry. Despite this, the relationship between
length of residence and quarry attitude was not strong. Indeed, informant interviews
told us that no clear-cut differences existed between newcomers and oldtimers
regarding their attitudes toward the quarry. Some oldtimers also had negative
attitudes toward the quarry; they simply chose to not get involved in the issue.
Our informant data suggested many longtime residents did not take sides in
the quarry issue because they found themselves in a cross-pressured situation
and feared jeopardizing local social relationships. Earlier, Coleman (1957) and
Gamson (1966) said that residents with relatives and/or friends from each side
of opposing parties often withdrew from the issue. We found no support for our
hypothesis that Haines Township residents with higher levels of community
attachment were more likely to hold a neutral position toward the quarry issue.
While respondents who were actively involved in community activities, events, or
organizations favored the quarry more, those who had more friends in the
community and who participated in more festival-related activities favored it less.
Newcomers’ opposition to the quarry could have resulted from their pro-
environmental behavior. Yet, no significant difference existed between
newcomers and oldtimers on this measure. Both groups were moderately
involved in behavioral aspects of environmentalism. On the other hand,
environmental behavior was a significant predictor of quarry attitude. Pro-
environmental residents were more likely to oppose the quarry.
Haines Township newcomers had significantly different sociodemographic
characteristics than established residents. As Johnson and Fuguitt (2000)
suggested about those in commuter areas, in-migrants tended to be younger, and
have higher levels of education and income. Such differences disappeared at the
multivariate level.
Clearly, sociodemographic variables play a role in elucidating the advocacy
and mobilization of the opposition group. The quarry created heightened concern
among newcomers because it posed a threat to the quality of life that attracted
them to the area. Given their socioeconomic status, newcomers had more potential
to mobilize against the quarry. The data obtained from the informants confirmed
that newcomers had more money, time, knowledge of the political system,
connections to outside organizations, and previous and/or ongoing experiences
with environmental issues. That they immediately mobilized to preserve the
environmental quality of their chosen residences was, therefore, not surprising
(Göncüolu-Eser & Luloff, 2003).
This study integrated informant interviews and survey results to assess factors
affecting resident attitudes. These two methods complemented each other and
increased confidence in findings. Informant interviews: (1) contributed to the
development of the survey instrument, (2) helped generate the hypotheses related
to community attachment and private property rights, and (3) provided context
and depth for interpretation of survey findings. Through this approach, attitudes
toward the quarry were captured within the backdrop of local interactions.6
Rural and small communities tend to become arenas of tension because of
their changing economic and sociodemographic structures. Newcomers often
redefine natural resource use and land use practices in their chosen residences.
Their preservationist approach to the natural environment, however, may not
correspond to the oldtimers’ “truth.” Established residents are not necessarily
less concerned about the environment. They do, however, share utilitarian
priorities related to sustaining their livelihoods.

Disagreements between newcomers and oldtimers on natural resource uses
will surely continue in small and rural communities. Each conflict is unique
because of the different characteristics of issues and affected communities in
question. Still, some general patterns can be inferred from individual studies.
Ours provided further support for the findings of previous research, including:
(1) newcomers and oldtimers are equally likely to be concerned about the
environment; (2) newcomers’ socioeconomic status often enable them to mobilize
for environmental protection; (3) advocacy for private property rights may interfere
with efforts for environmental protection; and (4) newcomers to commuter areas
tend to be younger and have higher levels of education and income.
PVCA’s opposition activities were beneficial for the community since they
forced strict environmental regulations on the quarry operation and contributed
to the development of a local planning commission and completion of a
comprehensive plan. Oldtimers were least active in these efforts. Indeed, the
vast majority chose not to get involved. This reflected, in part, dissatisfaction
with the ways newcomers handled these community issues, but also reflected
some residents’ inability to commit resources to them.
Certainly, rural and small communities could benefit from the preservationist
attempts of newcomers. However, the latter’s general indifference towards local
traditions and customs may hinder the realization of potential benefits from
their endeavors. Newcomers need to make an effort to ease the anxieties caused
by their entrance into a community, remembering that that their new residence
was made by oldtimers at the outset. A clearer understanding of oldtimers’ way
of life and respect for their identity and traditions would better integrate
newcomers into the broader community.
Our informant data suggested that oldtimers would probably be more
receptive to newcomers if they engaged such practices. In addition, apparently
there would be more support for a range of activities including newcomers’
proposals for environmental protection, historical protection, and the like. After
all, a synthesis of newcomers’ preservationist and oldtimers’ utilitarian
perspectives would help small and rural communities respond more effectively
to their ever-changing economic, social, and natural resource environments.
Finally, this study provided important methodological insights. As in earlier
research, sociodemographic variables were used as control factors. Here,
however, a series of tests were performed to examine the impacts of removing
these measures on both the numbers of cases in the model and how much
variance was explained. Removal of these items increased the sample size from
139 cases to 203 cases (46% increase) yet had no appreciable effect on the
models major contributors or explanatory power. Attitude towards private
property, proportion of friends, and environmental behavior remained the most
important predictors of quarry attitude regardless of the presence or absence of
the sociodemographic factors.
NOTES
1. Factor analysis of the HTFF measure and the previous two questions did not provide a
satisfactory index. Therefore, each of these items was entered into the analysis separately.
2. A higher percentage of respondents (16.1%) indicated that the “none” category best described
their political views compared to those who chose either “liberal” (9.8%) or “moderate-liberal”
(11.9%).
3. Descriptive statistics for this sample are available upon request from the authors.
4. The authors gratefully acknowledge an anonymous reviewer and the editor for this helpful
suggestion.
5. Additional analyses revealed that respondents who agreed with the statement were significantly
different from those who disagreed in terms of occupation (F=4.89, p<0.01) and income (F=7.72,
p<0.001).
6. Small sample size was a potential limitation of this study. By including the usual constellation
of sociodemographic measures, further reduction in sample size occurred. To assess the impact of
this loss, we ran a series of models excluding income, parental status, and occupation from the
analyses. Only occupation was a significant, though moderate predictor in the multivariate model.
The exclusion of a significant variable is generally not a satisfactory solution to a missing data
problem. Here doing so was reasonable since excluding occupation increased the sample size by
about 14 percent. Importantly, when regression analyses were conducted with and without
occupation, the latter generated a better model – that is, it explained the variation in quarry attitude
with more variables and the magnitudes of the coefficients were larger.
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Appendix 1: Correlation Matrix
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
Quarry Attitude (1)
Sociodemographics
Gender (2) -0.09
Age (3) 0.02 0.04
Education (4) -0.26*** 0.05 -0.09
Occupation (5) 0.23** -0.00 0.00 -0.22**
Political View (6) -0.30*** 0.13 0.02 0.39*** -0.09
Income (7) -0.16* -0.00 -0.35*** 0.42*** -0.32***0.08
Parental Status (8) 0.08 -0.08 -0.48***-0.09 -0.03 -0.09 0.12
Length of Residence (9) 0.15* -0.01 0.57***-0.26*** 0.14 -0.03 -0.32***-0.23**
Feeling at Home (10) 0.01 -0.03 0.11 -0.29*** -0.01 -0.05 0.11 0.03 0.19**
Sorry/Pleased to Leave (11) -0.06 0.09 0.16* -0.06 0.03 -0.02 -0.06 0.01 0.20**
Interest in Community (12) -0.17* -0.00 0.10 0.15* -0.04 0.10 0.01 0.05 0.06
Local Social Bonds
Interpersonal Ties
Proportion of Friends (13) -0.06 -0.02 0.34***-0.25*** 0.07 -0.00 -0.27***-0.19* 0.42***
Proportion of Relatives (14) 0.02 -0.02 0.07 -0.18** 0.01 -0.10 -0.16* -0.03 0.29***
Number of Close Relations (15) 0.13 0.00 0.05 -0.16* 0.04 -0.16* -0.02 -0.14 0.12
Number of Houses Been in (16) 0.02 -0.04 0.14* -0.10 -0.04 -0.09 0.05 0.01 0.37***
Number of Adults Known (17) 0.05 -0.02 0.11 -0.12 0.04 -0.10 -0.07 -0.06
Organizational Ties
Level of Involvement (18) -0.05 -0.01 0.09 0.20** -0.03 0.20** -0.01 -0.03 0.13
Organization Membership (19) -0.17* -0.06 0.18** 0.24** -0.05 0.20** -0.05 -0.05 0.15*
Participation in HTFF (20) -0.19** 0.12 0.29*** 0.01 -0.06 0.10 -0.12 -0.06 0.22***
Attitude to Private Property (21) 0.49***-0.01 0.07 -0.44*** 0.17* -0.31***-0.20** 0.11 0.15*
Environmental Behavior (22) -0.42***-0.03 -0.01 0.42*** -0.14 0.38*** 0.15 -0.12 -0.11
* Significant at p<0.05; ** significant at p<0.01; *** significant at p<0.001.

10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22
0.49***
0.22*** 0.18**
0.28*** 0.24***0.06
0.12 0.09 -0.06 0.31***
0.14 0.17* 0.07 0.21** 0.18*
0.27*** 0.21** 0.23*** 0.23*** 0.08 0.25***
0.15* 0.15* 0.16* 0.06 0.20** -0.01 0.31*** 0.41***
0.14* 0.10 0.34*** 0.10 -0.06 0.12 0.26*** 0.08
0.05 0.10 0.19** 0.08 -0.10 -0.11 0.16* 0.06 0.52***
0.22*** 0.17* 0.32*** 0.15* -0.06 0.09 0.34*** 0.16* 0.44*** 0.38***
0.10 0.11 -0.25*** 0.18** 0.11 0.10 0.06 0.04 -0.19** -0.20** -0.20**
-0.17* -0.05 0.31***-0.12 -0.09 -0.02 0.12 0.10 0.29*** 0.21** 0.22***-0.53***
Book Reviews
GEORGE, ROBLEY E. Socioeconomic Democracy: An Advanced Socioeconomic
System. (Westport, CT: Praeger Publishing, 2002, 326 pp.). Paper.
Reviewed by MICHAEL JOHN DOUGHERTY, Extension Specialist,

WVU Extension Service, Morgantown, West Virginia
Socioeconomic Democracy is a proposal for an alternative economic
model. It represents the culmination of three decades of work on the topic by
Robley George. It is best thought of as a prescriptive descriptive piece, for it
discusses the system the author thinks should be in place and explains how
such a system would work.
George succinctly describes his philosophy at the beginning of the first
four chapters of the book (p. 7, p. 11, p. 41, p. 91). Socioeconomic democracy is
a model economic system, or more precisely, socioeconomic subsystem, in which
there is some form of Universal Guaranteed Personal Income as well as some
form of Maximum Allowable Personal Wealth. In other words, there is both a
lower limit on personal material poverty and an upper limit on personal material
wealth set and adjusted democratically by all society.
After a brief introductory chapter, George explains his version of Universal
Guaranteed Personal Income, Maximum Allowable Personal Wealth, and
Democracy in the next three chapters.
The case for UGI is fairly clear. It is the rationale for many systems already
in place in many societies. The case for MAW is not made nearly as well, in part
because of its reliance on dogmatic statements. Some of these tend to be nothing
more than rants against the rich. Finally, the case for Democracy is clear-cut. But
it should be noted that the concept is not the current American “winner-take-all”
version but rather a more robust system involving greater participation and
elections to decide important matters.
Chapter 5 is a discussion of the four possible variations of guaranteed
income and wealth limitations: only a guaranteed income, only a wealth limit,
both, or neither. This theme is revisited later when costs and benefits are examined.
The next two chapters provide justifications for Socioeconomic Democracy
– though George noted such justifications were unnecessary, as the book is a
theoretical discussion. One examines the system from anthropological,
philosophical, psychological, religious, and human rights perspectives. The
other is a discourse on the relationship between Socioeconomic Democracy and
the teaching of Islam.
What is intriguing here is what is missing. The large religious justification
section in Chapter 6 includes current philosophy. But it lacks any stories of
religious figures or church communities, despite there being examples that would
probably have supported George’s argument (e.g., the communal spirit of the
early Christian Church).
Book Reviews 115
Meanwhile, Chapter 7 features an historical description of the founding

and early days of Islam. Absent is a detailed discussion of the current situation.
Despite a scholarly reference that the association of Islam and democracy is
“inevitable” (p. 176), many Islamic nations are run by a hyper-rich ruling classes,
a situation not unlike what is found elsewhere. Only a brief mention of the failure
to fully implement the Zakat (a religious “tax” on wealth for the good of the
community) hints at such problems.
George then discusses what his proposal would mean. The last five chapters
deal with incentives arising from his model (Chapter 8), approximations of UGI,
MAW, and democracy (Chapter 9), costs and benefits of the model (Chapter 10),
feasibility of the model (Chapter 11), and ramifications of adopting the model
(Chapter 12).
The quality of these chapters varies. Examination of the model
approximations and the initial discussion of feasibility are quite well thought
out, straightforward, and insightful. However, the benefit analysis tended to be
heavy-handed, essentially dismissing the thought that a society would not
want to fully implement the proposed model. And in assessing the ramifications,
George asserts that Socioeconomic Democracy would simultaneously alleviate
virtually every societal ill, but the logic behind some of the assertions is often
incomplete.
George closes the book with an appendix featuring questions designed to
generate additional discourse regarding Socioeconomic Democracy.
There are other problems with the book as well. George seems sometimes
more concerned with showing off than making his case. Sometimes he goes
“over the top” to make a point in such a way that his rhetoric becomes almost
pointless. He refers to people in too familiar terms (e.g., TJ, Bucky Fuller, Billy F.
Buckley Jr.). He unnecessarily editorializes about others. He diverges into
unrelated tangential discussions, some of which would be best included in
footnotes while others could be omitted all together without altering the important
message of the work.
Perhaps the worst offense comes in a paragraph regarding the post-1996
election activities of Robert Dole. Noting he served as a Viagra spokesperson,
George wrote: “Maybe that was what helped keep a smile on Liz’s [Elizabeth
Dole’s] face when she started to campaign for the 2000 Repub [sic] nomination
without a penny in her pocket.” (p. 236).
Additionally, the book felt dated. Though it has a 2002 copyright, it seemed
to have been written in the late 1990s. George refers to the 2000 presidential race
as in the future. He said the Welfare Reform debate is not yet decided, even
though TANF has replaced ADFC. There is no mention of recent relevant events
from the political arena or the global state which may have affected the organization
of his model as well as its justification and application. A check of the
approximately 350 references supports this. Only 10 citations were from 1999-
2001, but half of these were George conference papers (including both 2001
references) and at least one was a republication of an existing work.
Finally, George never addresses one major question – what will make
people do this. While the book is a theory being put forth, the justification,
feasibility, and ramification considerations would point to this model coming
into being at some point because it will benefit society. But the trigger that will
lead to this realization – and thus to action – is never defined.
Overall though, the question is whether or not Socioeconomic Democracy
is a meaningful work. To those interested in doing something with respect to the
increasing disparity of wealth and income, this book offers one potential solution.
Furthermore, propositions put forth accomplish this goal in a way that does not
require major alterations in the democratic traditions on which many nations
have been founded. Many who work in the field of community development
would probably have some interest in its general message.
However, be forewarned. That message is not as strong or solid as it could
be because of the author’s smugness and sometimes self-indulgent or sidebars
that often add little to the discussion at hand.
JOHNSON, BART R. and KRISTINA HILL, (eds.). Ecology and Design:

Frameworks for Learning. (Washington, D.C.: Island Press, 2002, 530 pp.). Cloth.
Reviewed by STEPHEN P. GASTEYER, Rural Community Assistance

Program, Washington, D.C.
How does one go about transforming a profession? In this case the
profession is landscape architecture, including students of design, planning
and land management. And what can we learn from this one example for adaptation
to other professions? This book provides the proceedings of a conference held
July 16-19, 1998, on the teaching of ecology in landscape architecture programs.
The University of Oregon hosted the conference. Bart Johnson and Kristina Hill
were the organizers and chairs of the conference. The book’s 18 chapters, some
with multiple authors, are divided into four parts:
Part I: Theories of Nature in Ecology and Design
Part II: Perspectives on Theory and Practice
Part III: Education for Practice
Part IV: Prescriptions for Change
The materials presented are from both academics and practitioners. They
provide a breadth and depth to the exchange of ideas through both prepared
papers and papers produced by working groups summarizing the ideas developed
during discussions. The focus is on integrating ecological theory and practice
into planning and design curriculum. A critical comment from the proceedings
notes that any transformation of the profession will also require educating the
public. And I would suggest as importantly educating the professions on
communication styles and culturally appropriate ways of working with the public.
Book Reviews 117
The book is directed toward professional planners, landscape architects,

and ecologists. This by no means implies that it would be of no interest to
others in the community development field. Not only does this compendium
provide a nice overview of issues involved in ecologically-driven design and
planning, but it also addresses the social element of the planning and design
process, i.e., engaging community members, leaders and organizations by these
professions as they go about their work. Indeed, a number of authors pay
considerable attention to the need to engage community within a cultural
framework as part of the design process. There was a common understanding
that from a community practitioner’s viewpoint planning and design are not
about an abstract esthetic but rather “…to see new and better possibilities for
places and people.”
In his chapter on “Looking Beneath the Surface: Teaching a Landscape
Ethic,” Michael Hough’s description of a teacher’s field trip with students from
different professions exemplifies for me the reason behind and value for dialogue
promoted by the conference and needed by educators as well as practitioners in
any field. It highlights how students, as well as professionals have a tendency
to stay within the comfort zone of predetermined solutions to problems.
The biologists saw the stream channel primarily in terms of habitat and
organic form. They recognized the curvilinear form of the stream course, the
cutting of banks as it changed direction, the deposition of eroded materials,
exposed shale, wooded slopes, and floodplain. The behavior of the stream
itself, however, was generally ignored. The engineers saw the stream as an
almost straight man-made channel, flowing smoothly down its course,
uninterrupted by obstructions. Its surrounding environs were noted on their
sketches as “active erosion, slump, silt.” All were drawn with an engineering
certainty and precision that defined problem areas requiring correction. Straighten
out the channel, folks, and all will be well –a reflection of attitudes that natural
forces are to be controlled or overcome. The landscape students, with no training
in engineering or biology, created fine artistic renderings (often in color) that
showed slopes, floodplain, and a thin, wavy stream line, but which revealed
almost nothing of the watercourse’s behavior or its influence on its surroundings
(Newbury 1990). (p. 261)
The book is extremely useful as a tool for understanding the state of
professional education among planners, architectural designers and ecologists
as well as efforts to integrate the knowledge base and skills of these professional
fields. Since the book attempts to document a dialogue, it is not surprising that
it contained an appropriate number of differing opinions on a number of issues.
I appreciated the call for more use of the scientific method (theory and hypothesis
testing) to promote a learning environment within the field of architectural design.
Indeed, community development practitioners in all fields should heed such
advice. I also appreciated the suggestion that multiple approaches based on
normative contexts rather than a prescriptive template for design may be more
appropriate or as some of my colleagues say, “once you’ve seen one community,

you’ve seen one community.”
The book illuminates the challenge for ecologists, in particular, of more
fully articulating their field so it can be integrated into the work of other
professions. The reverse is, of course, also true. The book lays out the need for
an educational “hybrid” that brings together aspects of multiple disciplines, in
this case architectural design, planning, and ecology, and highlights their
interrelationship. This is a fundamental issue for all of us in community
development. How does one raise the awareness, appreciation and integration
of all professions that need to work in a multidisciplinary environment? This
book helps us consider those issues and offers some interesting food for thought.
From the perspective of the general community development practitioner,
this book provides a fascinating look at what these three professions can offer
and how their contributions might be brokered within communities. Small
communities are unlikely to naturally consider inviting these professionals to
talk with them as they consider strategic future visions, but this book makes a
good case for the types of assistance they might provide. As funders from both
government and foundations continue to encourage broader regionalization of
development efforts, more diverse professions need to be at the table with
communities. For smaller communities this broader level of thinking – beyond
the “site scale” – will be new and more challenging in many ways. Therefore,
one doesn’t need to be a professor of ecology or of architectural design to find
value in reading this book. It describes opportunities for integrating professional
perspectives into improving the quality of life and emphasizes the need for a
continuing dialogue as part of that process.
GOODE, JUDITH and JEFF MASKOVSKY (eds.). The New Poverty Studies:
The Ethnography of Power, Politics, and Impoverished People in the United
States. (New York, NY: New York University Press, 2001, 494 pp.). Paper and Cloth.
Reviewed by JOHN J. GREEN, Division of Social Science/Center for

Community Development, Delta State University, Cleveland,
Mississippi
Mainstream understandings of poverty, shared among many policymakers
and researchers, tend to “blame the victim” and thus relegate development
efforts aimed at eradicating poverty to the sidelines. Equally problematic is the
near infatuation with reducing “welfare roles” while failing to provide serious
attention to the challenges faced by real people. The impoverished and
government assistance have been defined as the problem as opposed to inequality
in a land of wealth. However, The New Poverty Studies represents a breakthrough
in scholarship presenting a critical approach to poverty in the United States.
Book Reviews 119
Editors Judith Goode, Jeff Maskovsky and sixteen other authors focus attention
on the use of ethnographic method to expose and critique dominant views of
poverty and give voice (i.e. political agency) to the impoverished. Readers
concerned with poverty and public policy have much to gain from this book.
The New Poverty Studies is divided into five parts, with a total of fifteen
chapters in addition to the Introduction and Afterword. A collection of texts
authored primarily by anthropologists and urban scholars, the book covers a
wide array of topics, including women-headed households, immigrant networks,
debt, so-called welfare “reform” and types of social organization. The authors
skillfully combine theory and method in case studies to address substantive
issues and present multiple views of people in poverty and the institutional forces
that impact their world. They treat poverty as a process of uneven development
that must be investigated at the local, regional, national and global levels.
The breadth of material and topics covered in this book is laudable, but at
times explicit coherence is unclear until the reader is able to consider the collection
of essays as a whole. The wide net cast does demonstrate the extent to which a
general critique of mainstream poverty studies may be applied. An overarching
theme is present – the dominant ideology as expressed through policy and
research attributes responsibility to the impoverished while neglecting the context
in which they live and the broader forces (e.g. corporate interests, policy, power
relations) that impact their varied situations.
The authors point out that most poverty research is conducted from a
revised “culture of poverty” theoretical position that continues to focus attention
on individual initiative through a human resources lens. As Donna Goldstein
maintains in Chapter 9, this represents a blending of neo-liberal and neo-
conservative ideology. This has resulted in a “privatist consensus” (Jeff
Maskovsky in the Afterword) in the policy agenda that seeks to reduce state
intervention.
An essay of particular interest to the field of community development is
the well-written and penetrating chapter by Susan Brin Hyatt entitled “From
Citizen to Volunteer: Neo-liberal Governance and the Erasure of Poverty.” The
author argues that studies and policies primarily concerned with “volunteerism”
and the development of “social capital” tend to transform political rights into
entrepreneurial opportunities and dismiss the role of the state in securing social
welfare. Furthermore, biased accounts of what it is that constitutes social capital
has led to an overemphasis on traditional, middle-class forms of community
organization to the exclusion of the actual volunteer and self-help groups that
impoverished people have created.
Unfortunately, the extent to which the authors critique contemporary
approaches to poverty may lead many community development professionals
to walk away from this book dismayed. Although they are correct to point out
the link between neo-liberal/neo-conservative governance and such catch words
as “volunteer” and “empowerment,” the authors provide few alternatives for
action other than “giving voice” to the poor in a general sense. Given the lack of
attention to how one might go about presenting truly counter-hegemonic
responses, readers might be left with a feeling of hopelessness in addressing
issues of poverty in the face of the prevailing constraints that the authors
themselves point out.
Overall, The New Poverty Studies offers readers a refreshing theoretical
and research-based perspective on poverty. Community development
professionals and scholars would do well to read this book in order to reflexively
confront many commonly held assumptions about the world and people’s
positions within it. This critical examination of poverty discourses is particularly
suited for a graduate-level course on poverty where students are expected to
assess the impacts of social organization. With its urban focus, the book would
need to be paired with a text giving attention to rural poverty. Although there are
many of these to choose from, The New Poverty Studies may serve as a model
and impetus for critical rural studies in the future.
CHAWLA, LOUISE (ed.). Growing Up in an Urbanising World. (Paris, France:

United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) and
Earthscan Publications. Ltd., 2002, 254 pages.) Paper.
Reviewed by LORNA HEIDENHEIM, Executive Director, Ontario

Healthy Community Coalition
This report of the “Growing Up in Cities” (GUIC) project successfully
demonstrates that across time, geography and cultures, children have widely-
shared needs and values. It also shows they are astute and insightful in their
assessments of the socio-political landscape of their communities.
UNESCO first introduced GUIC in the 1970’s, then revived it in 1994. The
purpose of the latter project was to identify the perceptions of children had of
their communities and compare the results internationally and to the original
GUIC project. This book reports on the results of three years of fieldwork
undertaken between 1996-1998. Eight countries hosted GUIC projects: Argentina,
Australia, India, Norway, Poland, South Africa, the United Kingdom and the
United States. The project recruited local researchers familiar with the
communities’ language, history and culture. Children aged 9-15, predominantly
from low-income neighbourhoods, participated in the project. Each of the eight
GUIC subprojects is described in detail.
The GUIC protocol called for observations, interviews, children’s drawings
of the local area, and a daily activity log. Other methods of gathering data, such
as focus groups, walking tours, community maps and photo displays, were
undertaken at the discretion of the local researchers. It was difficult for the
reader to assess the degree of consistency in methods from site to site and with
Book Reviews 121
the original GUIC project. It was also difficult to determine whether the
participants adequately represented the children in that community.
Those who have meaningful relationships with children likely won’t find
anything very startling about the results of the projects on a site by site basis.
However, taken together, some very interesting and compelling themes are
revealed. There was an astonishing similarity across all project sites in the
factors identified by the children as contributing to the quality of community.
Positive factors included safety and freedom of movement, social integration, a
variety of interesting activity settings, peer gathering places, cohesive community
identity and green areas, provision of basic needs, secure tenure of their home
and a tradition of community organising and self-help. Sources of alienation
included stigma and social exclusion, boredom, fear of harassment and crime,
racial tensions, heavy traffic, uncollected trash and litter, lack of basic services
and sense of political powerlessness.
It was also surprising that children in communities with higher levels of
material well being were not necessarily as satisfied as those living in much
poorer circumstances. The standard measures of quality of life, such as per
capita income, education, adequate housing, sanitation and life expectancy were
often outweighed by social capital indicators, such as an active community life,
festivals that celebrate community identity and a sense of being valued.
The participatory nature of the project allowed researchers to gain rich
insights into the day-to-day lives of the children. The project was also inherently
educational and empowering, as children articulated their feelings, wrote essays,
spoke in public, drew, photographed, measured, calculated and made
recommendations for change. Unfortunately, while some positive results are clearly
attributable to the project, it seems that, in general, attention to the project
recommendations was short-lived and was superseded by larger concerns.
Many topics are explored in the book, such as the impact of increased
traffic, the influx of immigrants, access to public spaces, fears of violence and
the relationship between home and community. The authors also comment on
corrupt politicians, inefficient bureaucracies, misguided development agencies
and the failure of the adult world to meet the basic needs of children.
One of the thorny issues the project grappled with is the development and
maintenance of local partnerships. Each project sought to form a network of
individuals and organizations to inform and support the project, with some agencies
collaborating on the implementation of the project. While this is a sound practice
in terms of current development theory, miscommunications and competition for
resources and recognition often created conflict and frustration. For projects such
as this to succeed there needs to be “an effective institutional framework and
systems to promote ethics and accountability...” (Bannerjee and Driskell, p. 156).
The GUIC project is an excellent model for children’s participation in
community evaluation and development. A multi-sector approach is applied to
the analysis, integrating concepts and theories relating to child development,
community development and participatory research. One of the most significant

accomplishments of this book is the development of a set of indicators, based
on the experiences and ideas of children, for what makes a community a good
place to grow up. In the concluding chapter Chawla also proposes a series of
recommendations for effective participatory for programmes for children and
youth that will be useful to anyone involved in children’s programs.
The book is very readable and the repetition of common themes, while
occasionally redundant, gives the book an overall sense of coherence. Data is
presented in easily comprehensible charts and graphs and the photographs
give a sense of connection to the projects.
Academics, planners, community development workers, policy makers,
children’s rights activists, teachers, parents and many others will find useful
information and insights in this book. It will help all adults remember their own
youth, and recapture the joys and frustrations of growing up. Hopefully it will
lead us to find ways to ensure that children and youth have a strong voice in
community planning and decision-making.
“Adults may know how to create community environments that promote
health and safety, but children and youth are the experts on what fosters or
fractures their personal sense of well-being.” (Chawla, p. 220.)
VAIPEYI, DHIRENDRA K. (ed.). Deforestation, Environment, and Sustainable

Development: A Comparative Analysis. (Westport, CT: Praeger Publishers,
2001, 261 pp.). Cloth.
Reviewed by MICHAEL HIBBARD, Professor, Department of

Planning, Public Policy & Management, University of Oregon
One of the more important advances in community development theory and
practice over the past two decades has been the incorporation of environmental
concerns into our agenda. The sustainability movement has shown us the
inextricable linkages among the economic, social, and ecological dimensions of
communities. Community development has responded by giving special attention
to issues at the intersection of those dimensions – for example, environmentally
induced diseases, community food security, environmental justice, and natural
resource management. The latter is especially relevant to the book at hand.
This is a set of invited case studies analyzing the causes of deforestation
and discussing efforts to move toward economically, socially, and ecologically
sustainable forest management. It begins with a useful analysis of the effects of
the World Bank’s lending and other development activities on forest management.
The emphasis in the case studies that follow is on Asia, with chapters on India;
Bangladesh; China; Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia; and Thailand. For Africa,
there are chapters on Nigeria and on Congo and Kenya. The situation in all of
Book Reviews 123
Latin America is covered in one chapter. And there is an odd outlier – a solid but
anomalous chapter on aforestation (not deforestation) in the Negev of Israel.
Few environmental issues have attracted as much attention worldwide in
recent years as deforestation. A major reason for the high visibility of deforestation
as an issue is of course its overall impact on the earth’s ecological well-being.
But according to Vajpeyi and his co-authors, Third World deforestation also
draws attention because of the ways its local ecological, social, and economic
causes and consequences ripple around the globe. They note that the primary
human contributions to Third World deforestation include commercial logging,
increased worldwide consumption of industrial wood, clearing of forests for
settlement and agriculture, overpopulation, globalization of trade in wood
products, economic development, overgrazing, poor harvest practices, and
inadequate enforcement of existing laws. Primary effects on Third World forest
communities and their people are unemployment and poverty, ill health, and
community displacement and decline. These causes and consequences are all
longstanding concerns of community development.
Moreover, the authors’ recommendations for improving sustainable forest
management for the benefit of forests and forest communities read like a catalogue
of community development strategies. At the top of their list is grassroots
organizing to influence sustainable forest management practices. This takes the
form of community-based forest management (“social forestry”) at the production
end and product boycotts/bans at the consumer end. They also advocate,
among other things, activists’ support for aggressive enforcement of the laws
and policies that govern forest management, an activist role for non-governmental
organizations, and the levying of special timber surcharges to support sustainable
forest management.
While these causes, consequences, and strategies are all drawn from Third
World experiences, community developers will readily recognize that they are
equally relevant in the context of developed countries. This may be the most
important lesson of the book. Although the authors never say so explicitly, their
cases exemplify what some are calling the “one world” approach to development.
In the traditional approach, development ideas flowed out from the developed
countries to the rest of the world. That approach has been discredited as intellectual
imperialism. In its place, some argue that since each culture and country is unique,
we have nothing to learn from one another. The “one world” approach agrees that
the traditional approach was imperialistic but denies that we have nothing to learn
from one another. Rather, it holds, we can all learn from one another. In the book
at hand, American forest communities can benefit from the social forestry
experiences of Indonesian forest communities, and American activists can learn
from the experience of their Indian counterparts, to take just two examples.
In sum, the case studies in this book are interesting in their own right but
their greatest value may be in stimulating community developers to think about
how the experience of one part of the world can be applied in another area.
DRENNAN, MATTHEW P. The Information Economy and American Cities.

(Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2002, 153 pp.).
Reviewed by ANNABEL R. KIRSCHNER, Professor, Department of

Rural Sociology, Arkansas State University
Drennan examines the impact of the rapid growth of the information
economy on the health of metropolitan areas at the end of the 20th century. His
division of industries is somewhat similar to past research in this area, but he
focuses on goods and services that can be traded as the “engines that propel
metropolitan economies.”
Primary production (agriculture, forestry, fisheries and mining),
manufacturing and distribution (including transportation and wholesale trade)
are all well recognized categories. Because his focus is on the information
economy he divides the producer services sector into two categories financial
producer services (banks, insurance and real estate) and other producer services
(communication business, legal engineering and management services). In
addition, he creates a final category, advanced consumer services which includes
health and educational services as well as motion pictures and amusement and
recreation services arguing that like industries in the two producer services
categories, these also intensively use information or knowledge.
In the 1st chapter, he dismisses out of hand the “futurist hype” that foresees
a rapid dispersion of work out to rural areas (even the end of the need for cities)
with the rapid growth of telecommunications. Instead, he sees information
sector becoming more concentrated in large metropolitan areas. Like others he
argues that such concentration enhances the exchange of information. Thus
the book is solely focused on the economic health of metropolitan sectors.
He first examines the rapid growth of the information economy in the
United States as a whole and then focuses on metropolitan economies. He tests
a number of different hypotheses, but his most important finding is that
metropolitan economies specialized in the two categories of producer services
(rather than those that are diversified across broad industrial categories) have
higher incomes and that this specialization is also characteristic of larger
metropolitan areas.
This is a somewhat frustrating chapter because the tables here (as in the
rest of the book) use the variable acronyms that were probably used in the
computer program–POP and COLL are pretty clear but PSOTHSH and other
such labels, make interpreting the tables a chore. The first such table does have
the definition of these at the bottom, but subsequent tables do not, and there is
no reason why greater care could not have been taken in this area. In addition,
none of the findings in this chapter seems particularly surprising.
For community development specialists, Chapter 5, “Income Convergence
and Poverty in Metropolitan Areas”, is more interesting. Here Drennan examines
the neoclassical economic model that posits growing convergence in incomes
Book Reviews 125
across regions (or in this case metropolitan economies) over time. He finds clear
evidence that this is not the case, and that the Sunbelt, Snowbelt dichotomy of
the past is also irrelevant for explaining divergence in incomes. Instead, metro
areas specialized in one or both of the categories of producer services had
incomes above the metropolitan average in 1969 and had above average growth
in these incomes between 1969 and 1996.
This produces his final consideration of whether the replacement of a
manufacturing economy with an information economy is detrimental to the inner
city poor (especially the inner city black population) as many have contended.
Instead he finds that poverty rates in cities specialized in the information economy
are lower than those in other types of cities. In addition, the population in high
poverty neighborhoods in these cities has grown much less than similar
populations in cities specialized in manufacturing and primary production.
Drennan’s analysis would be valuable to community development
practitioners working in large metropolitan areas, with its careful analysis of what
undergirds the economic health of these areas at the end of the century. Too often
economic development specialists still bemoan the diminishing importance of the
manufacturing sector. This analysis shows why this is the case, and how important
an excellent telecommunications infrastructure is for cities today.
GUNDERSON, LANCE H. AND C.S. HOLLING (eds.). Panarchy: Understanding

Transformations in Human and Natural Systems. (Washington, DC: Island Press,
2002, 507 pp.).
Reviewed by DIANA LAUGHLIN, PhD, Community Technical

Assistance Program, Colorado State University, Pueblo, Colorado
The Resilience Network is responsible for the chapters written especially
for this edited volume. The goal of this grant-supported group of experts is to
draw on existing theories to build a new theory of human and natural systems
because local and global sustainability depends on nature’s resilience, flexible
social institutions and human creativity. And while we may rightly be jealous of
Network members’ “compulsory” attendance at five secluded workshops
scattered over several continents, their quest to create a theory to explain global
changes is no small task, and probably not an enviable one.
The term panarchy is used in part because the word hierarchy is too often
associated with rigidity and a top-down structure. In contrast, panarchy, with
its implicit link to the bawdy Greek god of nature, captures “the adaptive and
evolutionary nature of adaptive cycles that are nested one within the other
across space and time scales” (Holling, Gunderson, and Peterson, p.74).
Panarchy’s set of adaptive cycles starts with two traditional ecological
functions, exploitation and conservation, to which are added two more to create
the four-phase model of conservation, release, reorganization and exploitation.

Much of the book is focused on the phases of release and reorganization, and it is
in the reorganization phase where the most promising (and potentially destructive)
opportunities for intervention occur. Here is where chance and innovation can
lead to opportunity, though they may also lead to collapse. It is in this
reorganization phase that human systems have the greatest potential influence.
Human systems have great impacts on natural systems, and while the
authors excel at describing and analyzing extremely complex ecosystems, they
are less able to navigate interactions between social and natural systems. To
their credit, the authors admit that ecologists too often ignore “the realities of
human behavior, organizational structures, and institutional arrangements that
mediate the relations between people and nature” (Holling, Gunderson, and
Ludwig, p. 9). Exploring the complex and unavoidable interactions between
human and natural systems is central to Panarchy.
Network members are clearly frustrated by resource management
approaches in which learning comes mostly out of crises that often follow short-
sighted and/or wrong-headed policy. For some members of the Network, a
remedy would be the agency-employed scientist’s ability to work: (1) broadly
with stakeholder groups; (2) flexibly within a bureaucracy; (3) deftly through
politics; and (4) creatively with adaptive science-based processes. Part of this
focus on the multi-faceted individual comes from the observation that creative
scientists and scholars from different agencies have often been effective resource
managers for short periods but only when acting outside organizational restraints.
The difficulty inherent in understanding the variety of human systems
and their interactions with natural ones is likely one of the main reasons some of
the Network’s members focus on the single actor as the solution to resource
management problems. But elsewhere in the book it is argued that necessary to
successful ecosystem management are the identification of fast and slow variables,
diverse actors who make decisions and co-create solutions, and a set of assessment
and forecasting mechanisms. The main players in resource management have
too often been bureaucracies not flexible or creative enough when necessary.
Those of us in community development have a much better understanding
and appreciation of efforts that involve diverse partnerships with committed
people representing agencies and other stakeholder groups that often work
together in complementary ways. This type of model can help avoid the problems
associated with the single actor who often loses effectiveness when he or she
confronts too many competing resource management demands to be effective,
and with inflexible bureaucracies.
Ecosystems both large and small are being increasingly impacted by social
systems, and negative results are often caused by poor management decisions
that may be based on incomplete understanding of large and small cycles, by
technological intervention, and by increased and/or changing human uses. It is
clear that the human system “should be seen as not merely a variable but a
Book Reviews 127
context for determining ecological processes” (Westley et al., p.104).

What seems perhaps the largest concern to those who would like to see
changes in resource management is “understanding the evolution of political
structure and the contest over how issues are to be resolved” (Pritchard &
Sanderson, p. 167). The chapter on political structures is very useful as it sheds
light on some key questions related to power and policy. Unfortunately, insights
from this chapter appear to have had little influence on the remainder of the book.
Panarchy’s intended audience is scientists and scholars studying resource
management. But there is also much here for community development
practitioners and graduate students, particularly those willing to plod through
this hefty volume and to forgive authors’ assumptions that we’re familiar with a
wide and diverse body of knowledge.
Community developers and sociologists should especially appreciate the
many case studies on natural systems that illustrate the usefulness of the four-
phase adaptive model. While community developers are comfortable working
on complex projects and problems with diverse partners, stakeholders,
institutions, and policy makers, many of us would benefit from a better
understanding of the complexity of ecosystem management. Panarchy offers a
large number of insightful case studies that discuss a variety of natural systems,
especially as they are impacted by interactions with human ones. Notable are
the many descriptions of ways fast and slow variables can confound even the
best scientists and managers.
At a time when resource management problems range from local to global
and awareness of the interconnectedness and interdependence of human and
natural systems is increasing, “emphasis should be on flexible institutions and
human organizations that can build adaptive capacity in synergy with ecosystem
dynamics and reward systems that respond to feedback” (Yorque et al., p. 435).
We should focus on continuous learning as we consider the links between
theory and practice, and between the natural and human systems that are
discussed by the Resource Network.
TAYLOR-IDE, DANIEL and CARL E. TAYLOR (eds.). Just and Lasting Change:
When Communities Own Their Futures. Baltimore, MD: The John Hopkins
University Press, 2002, 350 pp.).
Reviewed by KEN MARTIN, PhD, Cooperative Extension Professor

& Director, West Virginia University
Just and Lasting Change provides a blueprint for data-based community
development. Local knowledge and resources and data driven community
decision-making processes provide the context for community change. The
authors’ rationale for the book is to present a framework for development based
on decades of experience working in communities in both the United States and

developing countries. Their working definition of community is “a manageable
number of people with common interests and the potential for action” (p.32) and
the book provides numerous case studies where community members initiated
community action resulting in improvements in the quality of community life.
The formula for successful community development put forth by the
authors is based on three basic principles for community action. The first principle
involves a three-way partnership between local officials, experts, and community
members. Local officials represent top-down contributions, experts bring outside-
in contributions, and community members bring bottom-up contributions to the
community development process. The second principle is action based on
locality-specific data. The third principle is based on a community work plan
that leads to changes in community behavior.
These community action principles are incorporated into the authors’ SEED-
SCALE model for community development. SEED, or self evaluation for effective
decision-making, has two components. The first component, self evaluation,
involves local data collection, community assessment of its circumstances, and
community determination of its priorities. The second component, effective
decision-making, engages communities, experts, and officials in an analysis of
local problems and the functions and roles needed to address problems and
accomplish priorities through shared responsibility and accountability. SCALE,
or the system for communities to adapt learning and expand, has three
dimensions. The first dimension, SCALE One, is where community projects are
selected, promoted, and successfully completed. The SCALE Squared dimension
uses demonstration projects for action learning and experimentation and promotes
cooperation among communities in a region in similar development efforts. The
SCALE Cubed dimension promotes the extension of development to all
communities in a region or society.
The book includes four case studies presented as historical demonstrations
of community-based development, five community level case studies based on
their community development model, and four case studies describing large-
scale applications of the model. The final section of the book includes SEED-
SCALE Handbook materials.
The issues addressed in the case studies are diverse and should prove
useful to community development practitioners: literacy, social development,
conservation, environmental change, health care practices, health training,
globalization, inequity, planning and development, self determination, and
addiction. The community case studies detail the small incremental steps
communities took to improve their future. Health concerns, for example, were
identified in several of the case studies presented. In these communities, health
data collected by community members provided baseline information for the
local decision-making processes. Strategies needed to improve health care relied
on a combination of local culture and practice and science-based knowledge.
Book Reviews 129
This led to new approaches for improving community health involving training
for lay health educators, community-wide campaigns to improve public health
practices, new protocols for recognizing and reacting to various symptoms, and
culturally sensitive education and training.
Two interesting points emerge as common threads in the case studies.
The first is that women were key to developing local support for many of the
community projects. The case studies indicate that the successes of the
community-based strategies and approaches were largely due to their involvement
on committees or in leadership roles often in cultures where this was not the
norm. The second is that external resources often reduce the potential for
sustainability. The SEED-SCALE model promotes the generation of local
resources for developing and implementing needed services and projects. The
case studies demonstrated that when these resources were re-circulated back
into the community, there was a greater potential for sustainability. Communities
tended to be more responsible and accountable when local resources were
committed. When external resources flowed into communities in the form of
subsidies, there were additional expectations from the granting agency and
community self-reliance was compromised as the resources were exhausted.
The community development model put forth in Just and Lasting Change
is grounded in several principles central to community development practice.
Partnerships, action strategies based on data, and changes in community behavior
are reflective of a community development process that can lead to purposive
change in the quality of community life.
Application of the model in underdeveloped communities in Africa, Asian,
and North and South America demonstrates its utility in today’s global
environment. The issues addressed are not necessarily unique to underdeveloped
communities. For example, literacy challenges, environmental changes, access
to health care, and planning and development conflicts also confront many
developed communities and urban neighborhoods.
The emphasis on empowerment and sustainable development in the model
and the descriptive case studies provide the reader with a wealth of ideas and
perspectives that will prove useful for those interested in community development
teaching and practice. The SEED-SCALE model emphasizes working first at the
community level and then extending the successes to other communities and
regions. It was insightful to see how the involvement of regional and national
governments and international funding agencies impacted the various community
development efforts. In some cases this led to successful regional and national
efforts while in other instances, the extra-local participation served to limit the
ultimate potential for project sustainability and its extension to other communities.
The book should prove useful for community development practitioners,
whether they are working in underdeveloped or developed communities. The
variety of community development projects and their potential for sustainability
are all grounded in the grass roots involvement of the community. Not only do
community members help obtain the needed data for assessment, but their
insights in understanding the community and their roles in the action strategies
employed contribute to the ultimate potential for successful and sustainable
community development.
SIMAI, MIHA’LY (ed.). The Democratic Process and the Market: Challenges
of the Transition. (Tokyo, New York, Paris: United Nations University Press,
1999, 208 pp.). Paper.
Reviewed by RONALD R. POPE, President, Serendipity-Russia,

Illinois State University
The contributors to this book, all but one of who are from Eastern Europe or
the Former Soviet Union, have attempted to evaluate the political and economic
transitions in the region. (The one non-East European/FSU author is from Denmark.)
Although the publication date is 1999, most of the information on which
the evaluations are based substantially predates that year. And a good deal
more has happened since 1999. In short, it is not at all surprising that events
have overtaken much of the analysis.
For example, the editor argues that change has to be “organized mainly
from above by the state” (p. 4). This assertion is not defended - and it has been
brought into question by the success of grassroots efforts to “make a difference”
in much of the former Soviet empire. Given the region’s history of control from
above, these efforts were not likely to have born much fruit by the mid 1990’s.
But one can now see relatively small-scale success with building a “civil society”
spreading throughout the region. More and more people are giving up on
“change from above” and are taking matters into their own hands.
For example, in Vladimir, Russia, where this reviewer been operating a
model American Home since 1992, families with handicapped children finally
gave up on the government and formed their own association. They have been
having considerable success in improving the lives of the young members of the
handicapped community. There are many more examples of this sort of grassroots
activity that for the most part was not yet visible when the authors of this book
collected their materials.
This book is a good source for the views of knowledgeable and thoughtful
observers who grew up in this region under communism through the mid-1990s.
In this reviewer’s opinion, it is not a particularly good source for understanding
what is happening in the region today. This is partly because of the dated nature
of much of the information the authors base their analysis on. For example,
Russia’s debt is no longer rapidly increasing (p. 81). It is also inaccurate partly
because of, again in this reviewer’s opinion, the assumptions the contributors
tend to make.
Book Reviews 131
For example, Oleg Bogomolov, author of the chapter comparing political

and economic change in Russia with the rest of the Commonwealth of
Independent States (i.e., the rest of the FSU), claims that production capabilities
were degraded and the “technological core of a modern economy” was
“squandered” by the new governments. (p. 80) In fact, an excellent case can be
made that most of the Soviet Union’s industrial production had no hope of
standing up to western competition and that, for the most part, there was no up-
to-date technological core to be preserved.
For instance, in 1997 I arranged for a group of American engineers from a
major high tech company to visit an allegedly high tech Russian plant near
Vladimir. They quickly determined that absolutely all the equipment would have
to be replaced and the interior of the plant completely remodeled before it could
produce competitive products. At the same time, they were impressed with the
quality of the plant’s staff and felt that they could be quickly trained to operate
a truly modern production facility.
It is the intelligent and capable people of the former Soviet empire who are
the region’s greatest asset - not the industrial base that was built by the
Communists. When these people are given the opportunity to tackle problems,
they frequently manage to rise to the occasion. What is needed is less “control
from above” along with more room for initiative from below.
At the same time, it will not be the “broad masses,” whose lack of initiative
one author bemoans (p. 108) that will bring about change. The “masses” generally
don’t initiate change. Small numbers of people take the lead and others follow.
In short, Marxist filters also seem to get in the way of some of this book’s
analysis.
Overall, aside from being a record of the views of some thoughtful people
with an insider’s perspective on the former Soviet empire, this book’s day has
probably passed.
KELLY, MARJORIE. The Divine Right of Capital: Dethroning the Corporate

Aristocracy. (San Francisco, CA: Berrett-Koehler Publishers, 2001, 231 pp.).
Cloth and Paper.
Reviewed by DOUGLAS CLAYTON SMITH, Kentucky University

In her book, The Divine Right of Capital, Marjorie Kelly contends that the
current U.S. government is allowing corporations to grant titles of stock in
perpetuity, and through this act the government enshrines shareholder rights
over the corporations in which they hold stock. Thus, stockholders become de
facto nobility. This system, in her estimation, is harmful for the well-being of
individuals and even worse for the well-being of the communities to which they
belong. To put America back on the right track, Kelly provides a thoughtful
critique of stockholder rights and responsibilities as well as a road map showing

possible routes to return to democracy.
Kelly’s major concern is that the American economic system has over time
devolved toward aristocracy and wealth privilege rather than advancing toward
democracy and equality. The feudal, aristocratic system supporting wealth
privilege was based on ideas like the divine right of kings and the great chain of
being. As capitalism developed and individuals outside the peerage became
wealthy, notions of human rights and equality burgeoned. These ideas slowly
undermined the feudal system; however, Western society never abandoned the
idea of wealth privilege. Instead, the divine right of kings transmuted to the
divine right of capital. Kelly believes that to combat this trend citizens need to
recognize and come to grips with discrimination based on wealth. “Naming
wealth discrimination is vital, for when we fail to do so, we fail to see how it
functions . . . we fail to claim its history” (p. 65).
In her attack on wealth discrimination Kelly focuses on ownership and
property rights. Stockholders can claim the lion’s share of the modern
corporation’s profits because they claim the corporation is their property. First,
Kelly argues that stockholders are not beneficial to corporations because most
stock market transactions are not purchases of new stock and, therefore, do little
to provide corporations capital. Not only are stockholders not advantageous to
corporations, but their actions are often parasitic. Through promises and threats,
stockholders pressure corporate managers and workers to produce large, short-
term profits often to the detriment of long term corporate sustainability. Their
privileges of ownership and their control of management guarantee shareholders
their share of the profit – profit they did not labor to produce – is maximized. The
side effects of these efforts increase the prospects of harm to the worker as well
as the surrounding ecological and social communities. However, stockholders
have no fear of being held liable for any damage that corporations might cause
at their behest because they have – through a variety of means detailed in the
boo – persuaded the government to limit stockholder risks. In short, stockholders
have manufactured a right to an endless stream of corporate income devoid from
any productive activity. The right to such a perpetual stream of income without
labor or taxes is the hallmark of aristocratic privilege.
To derail stockholder wealth privilege, Kelly focuses her attention on
writers whose works are often used to defend property rights, John Locke and
Adam Smith. Kelly claims that these scholars are being misread and
misrepresented through selective quotation. Her analysis turns two of the
property rights advocates’ favorite theorists on their heads, reclaiming a more
democratic Locke and Smith. This analysis is powerful in that it denies individuals
who believe in absolute property rights two of their most important sources of
ideological legitimacy, and reclaims them for economic democracy.
In addition, Kelly suggests that recent changes in the economy have
weakened stockholder privilege, providing American society an opportune
moment to make a correction. Just as the industrial economy undermined the
Book Reviews 133
divine right of kings, the information economy is weakening the divine right of
capital. Historically stockholder ownership of a corporation has been viewed as
ownership of the means of production (i.e., the physical assets). However, Kelly
points out that the corporation not only consists of the physical assets but also
human capital assets of the employees and the social capital of the social world
that they create. In fact, with the arrival of the information economy, the modern
corporation’s physical infrastructure is no longer the most important corporate
asset. Thus, workers in the information economy have increased leverage to
combat stockholder privilege if they can find the appropriate avenues to do so.
At first glance, Marjorie Kelly’s book, The Divine Right of Capital, might
be simply another book decrying the deleterious effects that corporations have
on American democracy. The second half of the book points out several possible
ways to increase democracy; however, this section does not seem to have a
single clear vision of the best way to change the current system. Instead, Kelly
opts for the delineation of six core principles upon which an economic democracy
might be founded and suggests several avenues that might redress current wrongs.
In summary, The Divine Right of Capital is a thought-provoking treatise
on the effects of wealth privilege on corporations and their workers. While Kelly
acknowledges deleterious effects of wealth privilege on communities, she spends
little time on the subject. So if one is looking for a lengthy theoretical discussion
of this aspect of wealth privilege, then The Divine Right of Capital is probably
not your first choice. However, the second half of this book is useful for
community development specialists despite its lack of a community focus. While
the second half of the book fails to offer a single solution for fostering economic
democracy, Kelly’s delineation of general principles and possible solutions allows
community and economic development professionals the opportunity to work
with their communities to tailor solutions for each community’s given situation.
Thus, the second half of the book is more useful for community development
than is the first half. Moreover, whether you are working with communities that
have just started thinking about corporations and their stockholders or you are
teaching economic and community development to novices at the university,
this book provides an accessible critique of the current economic system.
CAPRA, FRITJOF and GUNTER PAULI (eds.). Steering Business Toward

Sustainability. (The United Nations University Press, 1995, 191 pp.).
Reviewed by BONNIE WICHTNER-ZOIA, Ogemaw County

Cooperative Extension, Michigan State University
What does being a sustainable business mean? What does a sustainable
business do differently than a non-sustainable business? Is sustainability cost
effective and productive? All of these questions and more are answered in this book.
Steering Business Toward Sustainability contains short articles that

provide the reader with an overall understanding of how some business
entrepreneurs and ecological practitioners have successfully assisted
corporations with the sustainability concept.
Most of us understand that the world is faced with a multitude of
environmental issues, many of which are attributed to industrialization. We know
that numerous industries use non-renewable resources to produce non-recyclable
products, and as a by-product introduce impurities into the ground and air.
Moreover, as expressed in this book, industrial processes are mostly linear,
whereas the “natural” world is cyclical. This book emphasizes that industry needs
to become more cyclical to achieve sustainability. As the editors state, “Just as the
wastes from one species are food for other species in an ecosystem, so one
industry’s waste must become another industry’s resource in a sustainable world”.
When I first began reading this book, I felt the authors were hard core
environmentalists who did not really understand business principles. I began
questioning whom they were trying to reach. Was it just another book to “preach
to the choir?” Will those who really need to hear the sustainability message read
this book? With each new chapter however, the capacity for developing truly
sustainable businesses began to emerge.
Steering Business Toward Sustainability begins with two introductory
articles about the challenges of developing and promoting the concept of
sustainable business. Each article is preceded by comments from the editors.
These comments help set the stage for the story to follow.
The remainder of the book focuses on three key elements: Education,
Incentives and Technology. It is within these three components that I began to
become convinced that this book has something worth sharing. The paradigm
I held initially, “a book written by hard core environmentalists”, began to shift.
The Education section lists several examples of companies that were
moving toward sustainability. This section explains some methods used to
perform ecological industrial processes. In fact, one company uses less of a
renewable resource and recycled at a higher production cost; yet their products
are in high demand because of the sustainable production methods they chose
to implement.
The Incentive section has some unique recommendations to make
sustainable business practices financially appealing. The article by Herman E.
Daly suggests eliminating the tax on real income and jobs, which “rewards what
we should discourage – pollution and resource depletion”. Instead, governments
could provide incentives for utilizing recycled goods and reinforce a tax system
that promotes sustainability (pp. 108). An industry that produces waste, utilizes
non-renewable resources and does not recycle would be taxed at a higher rate.
The author does an excellent job conveying the plausibility of his ideas.
The final section on Technology, illustrates how technology could be
used to assist with developing more ecological business practices. The editors

Book Reviews 135
suggest that technology is not an end all to our environmental issues, but
instead a tool that is “restricted by cultural norms”.
My sense is that the editors and contributing authors of this book are
somewhat on the edge of society. They have ideas and beliefs that may not (yet)
be totally embraced by traditional business and industry. However, there is
much to be learned and shared from their knowledge.
Steering Business Toward Sustainability provides alternative business
concepts that may become the next wave in our industrialized society, whether
by choice or necessity. I can’t help but wonder if the people who need to read
this book will read it. Perhaps those who are interested in creating an
environmentally sustainable world should purchase this book and pass it on to
a change agent who just might help bring the concept of sustainable business
into the mainstream of industrialized society.
MINKLER, MEREDITH & NINA WALLERSTEIN (eds.). Community-Based

Participatory Research for Health. (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2003, 404 pp.).
Reviewed by SRIKANTH YAMALA, Department of Community &

Regional Planning, University of Nebraska-Lincoln
This book is a comprehensive resource on the theory and application of
community-based participatory research. It explores the role of the researcher in
engaging society. Its practical utility and rich case studies make it valuable to
individuals responsible for positive change in the communities.
Its stated purpose is to “provide a highly accessible text that will stimulate
practitioners, students, and academics in health and related fields as they engage
- intellectually and, ideally, in practice with community partners - in this alternative
approach to collaborative inquiry for action to eliminate health disparities” (p. 9).
It begins with an introductory chapter in which the editors provide an
overview of the compelling need for truly collaborative research that addresses
locally identified issues. According to Minkler and Wallerstein, the past decade
has seen a rapid escalation in the demand for research aimed at eliminating
health disparities and prompting community and broader social change.
The book is organized into six parts. In the first part, chapter authors
introduce community-based participatory research and discuss critical issues
involved in developing and following appropriate principles. The two terms,
“action research” and “participatory action research” are used interchangeably
to represent a convergence of principles and values in which the community
determines the research agenda and jointly shares in the planning, implementation
of data collection and analysis, and dissemination of the research.
Part two contains chapters related to working with communities on multiple
levels to build trust through dialogue in order to effect positive changes. In
chapter five, Randy Stoecker talks about the approach and role scholars need to
adopt in community-based participatory research. Coming from India, this
reviewer agrees that this is a universal problem, where attempts are being made
to emphasize solid research focused on important topics, aimed at addressing
critical shortcomings of our educational system.
Participatory researchers seem to do increasingly well in the
university (Cancian, 1993; Gedicks, 1996). But there are often
compromises. Graduate students trying to do Community-
Based Participatory Research are still forced to take control of
the research in order to get credit to graduate (Heaney, 1993).
The reward system of universities discourages collaboration,
and community members have to make time and even money
sacrifices to collaborate in research, while academics get
rewards. (p. 100)
Part three focuses on one of the most important but often neglected
processes - involving people within the community to be served, rather that
forming a group of outsiders. This is probably the central core of the book,
where the chapters deal with an ideal case studies and further describe the
modified Delphi process for getting an opinion from a large group while allowing
feedback and interaction. In chapter seven, Minkler and Hancock talk about risk
mapping, which does not involve shared group work and yet can be an effective
tool. The next critical element they talk about is the transition period from asset
and problem identification to the process of selecting issues in community-
based participatory research. Stephen Fawcett and colleagues at the University
of Kansas explore how Internet-based tools can be used by academic partners
and community members to build local capacity and action for community health
and development. One such web-based resource is the Community Tool Box
(http://ctb.ku.edu).
Part four concentrates on the nuances involved in research, action research
and participatory research. This is the best resource for researchers, practitioners
and students. To further illustrate some of the key methodological and ethical
issues faced in community-based participatory research, Stephanie Farquhar
and Steve Wing present unique case studies, where epidemiology and
sophisticated computer modeling, in close collaboration with community partners,
were used to uncover health problems in low-income, African American
communities. A case study in the San Francisco Bay Area reveals how the
disability community, in collaboration with community partners, used
participatory action research to broaden the dialogue around a particularly
contentious issue in their community - “death with dignity.”
Part five further illustrates community-based participatory research with
and by diverse populations through a couple of case studies, “Community
Based Participatory Research with Cambodian Girls in Long Beach, California”
and “Hidden Population: The Transgender Community Health Project.”

Book Reviews 137
The sixth and final part explores the possibilities of using community-
based participatory research to promote social change and healthy public policy.
In what is perhaps the most celebrated example of CBPR in the
United States, Anne Anderson and her neighbors in Woburn,
Massachusetts, worried about the high rates of childhood
leukemia in their community, began two decades
ago…Unsuccessful in their efforts to get local government
authorities to test the water, they approached researchers at
Harvard’s School of Public Health, who worked collaboratively
with community members, and also conducted their own
analyses, to document what the community residents had
long suspected (p. 345).
In the foreword, Budd Hall wrote that, “How is it that the people living in
the lands of some of the largest store of richness in the form of natural resources
– the peoples of rural Appalachia, urban black and Latino America, Indian nations,
and internationally, of the Brazilian Amazon, Africa, subtropical regions – are
among the poorest people of the world?”
Community Based-Participatory Research for Health definitely serves
as an important addition to the field of participatory action research in communities.
Editors Minkler and Wallerstein present an overview of the basic issues in
community-based participatory research and the shortcomings involved in it. In
addition to providing interesting research, many of the case studies offer practical
suggestions for strategies to combat problems in community-based participatory
research. As such, this volume is appropriate for use by those exploring
community services for the first time as well as for those who have made it their
passion. Anyone committed to community-based service is likely to find this
book to be a valuable resource.
Community Development Society
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Resident Attitudes Toward a Proposed Limestone Quarry

Article in Journal of the Community Development Society · March 2004

horqin sandy land, china View project

Community, Natural Resources, and Sustainability View project

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Theorizing Community Development ............................................................. 5

Investing in Communities: Social Capital’s Role in Keeping Youth in School ... 35

Citizen Participation in Nonprofit Economic Development Organizations .. 58

Concerns of Newcomer and Longtime Residents in Nonmetropolitan Idaho

Resident Attitudes Toward a Proposed Limestone Quarry ........................... 93

Socioeconomic Democracy: An Advanced Socioeconomic System

Ecology and Design: Frameworks for Learning

The New Poverty Studies: The Ethnography of Power, Politics, and

Deforestation, Environment, and Sustainable Development: A Comparative

The Information Economy and American Cities

Panarchy: Understanding Transformations in Human and Natural Systems

Just and Lasting Change: When Communities Own Their Futures

The Democratic Process and the Market: Challenges of the Transition

Divine Right of Capital: Dethroning the Corporate Aristocracy

Steering Business Toward Sustainability

Community-Based Participatory Research for Health

Jeff Sharp Robert Pence Steve Deller

Keywords: community development theory, self-help, felt needs,

Jnanabrata Bhattacharyya, Emeritus Associate Professor, Department of Political Science, and

becoming analytically irrelevant and practically inadequate. Finally, I have put

The Problem of Defining Community Development

that in some inarticulate way community development was different from CO

Problems Defining Community

In the next paragraph, the editors use the expression community or

Confusion about the Definition of Community Development

A Theory of Community Development

of community, and, there is an important view that the purpose of development

complex of transformations ushered in by industrialization. Wherever industry

Defining development as agency-promoting activity has the advantage of

The Context of Community Development

The Erosion of Solidarity and Agency

The dominant fact about industrial capitalism is the commodification of life

The Ascent of the Nation-State

characteristic of modernity. But they have exacted a price in human solidarity

Self Help, Felt Needs, and Participation

Community Development in Practice

immediate cause, he concludes, is the absence of neighborhood solidarity

economics, community-supported agriculture is about something deeper: a sense of

Sen, A. 1999. Development as Freedom. New York: Knopf.

Keywords: staying in school, education, social capital, human capital, National

FAMILY SOCIAL CAPITAL

et al., 1995). For example, opportunities for uninterrupted interaction between

SCHOOL SOCIAL CAPITAL 2

Composition of Enrolled Students

School Size and Resources

Maughan, Mortimore & Ouston, 1979). Furthermore, the presence of orderly

School Interactive Social Capital

COMMUNITY SOCIAL CAPITAL

or expanded for new community efforts to address educational or other local

Community Structure and Resources

Community Interactive Social Capital

variables were included to measure parental engagement with schools –

Table 1. Regression Coefficients Showing the Effect of Family Structure,

schools. Although schools having an emphasis on academic achievement