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Public Administration Vol. 84, No. 4, 2006 (919–940)
© Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2006, 9600 Garsington Road, Oxford OX4 2DQ, UK and 350 Main Street,
Malden, MA 02148, USA.
THE PARTICIPATORY AND DEMOCRATIC
POTENTIAL AND PRACTICE OF INTEREST
GROUPS: BETWEEN SOLIDARITY AND
REPRESENTATION
DARREN R . HALPIN
Embracing ‘ groups ’ as means to address democratic defi ciencies invites scrutiny of
their democratic practices. However, many groups lack internal democratic practices
and offer few opportunities for affi liates to participate. Guided by an implicit ‘ rep-
resentation ’ narrative of groups, the absence of internal democratic practices is inter-
preted as a sign of ‘ failure ’ or ‘ defi ciency ’ . Some scholars have entertained the idea
of setting minimum standards of internal democracy as a prerequisite for policy
access. This article scrutinizes this emerging consensus and its ‘ representation ’ narra-
tive. Drawing upon the work of O ’ Neill (2001) and Pitkin (1967) , it is argued that
groups can also be viewed through a lens of solidarity. This paper argues that the
type of constituency a group advocates for can be used to calibrate expectations of
internal democratic structures of accountability and authorization. The concepts of
‘ representation ’ and ‘ solidarity ’ are used to make sense of the (changeable) practices
of a variety of groups.
GREAT EXPECTATIONS: GROUPS AS DEMOCRATIZING AGENTS?
Confronted with so-called ‘ democratic defi cits ’ and widespread mistrust of
political institutions, governmental institutions – both national and supra-
national – are keen to engage with ‘ civil society ’ . This enthusiasm is mirrored
by a literature that views groups as potentially able to forge new linkages
between citizen and state in the face of a political party system that is widely
accepted to be failing (see Lawson and Merkl 1988; Dalton and Wattenberg
2000; Cain et al. 2003; Dalton 2004 ). Groups are also seen as able to supple-
ment the defi ciencies of majoritarian institutions of representative democ-
racy ( Sawer and Zappala 2001 , p. 13). The ‘ associative democrats ’ have
advanced the role of groups as a valuable mode of democratic governance
(see Cohen and Rogers 1992; Hirst 1994 ). Expectations about the democratiz-
ing and participative potential of groups is no doubt also shaped by images
of groups as ‘ little democracies ’ , promoted by the social capital literature.
Groups have become loaded with a number of great (democratizing) ex-
pectations: to address a decline in political participation, to engage citizens
in democratic processes of government, to school citizens in politics and to
address the political exclusion of marginalized constituencies. As Rossteutscher
Darren R. Halpin is Reader in Public Policy in the Department of Public Policy at The Robert Gordon
University, Aberdeen.
920 DARREN R. HALPIN
© Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2006 Public Administration Vol. 84, No. 4, 2006 (919–940)
(2005 , p. 5) states in summary, the approaches of these different authors,
while uncoordinated, ‘ … have two common threads: (1) that traditional
representative democracies are in trouble; and (2) that an associative turn
might provide the cure ’ .
The early rush to embrace groups as agents for democratiztion has, how-
ever, been met by a period of refl ection and renewed caution. A literature
has emerged arguing that the asserted democratic dividends from the
enhanced status of groups relies on the accuracy of the assumption that
groups are, or at least could be, voluntary, internally democratic, accountable
to members, and provide arenas for member deliberation (see the discussion
by Perczynski 2000 ). The proposition that groups can remedy democratic
defi ciencies has invited scrutiny of the internal democratic practices of
groups. Some scholars are ‘ discovering ’ that many groups under-perform.
For example, in the EU context, Warleigh (2000, 2001) found the groups he
examined had poorly functioning internal democratic processes and failed
to facilitate among their members or supporters high levels of engagement
with the European policy process. Yet, this is in fact a long-standing consis-
tent fi nding made by group scholars in Western democracies. In the UK,
Finer (1974 , p. 261) observed that the views of members and leaders are
often far apart. In Australia, Lyons notes it is often the case that member-
ship-based NGOs have disinterested membership bases and are effectively
left to be run by the leadership group who are ‘ … clearly not interested in
taking steps that might achieve a wider membership involvement ’ (2001,
pp. 24 – 5). More generally, McLaverty (2002) observes ‘ that there is nothing
intrinsically democratic about “ civil society organizations ” ’ (p. 310, original
italics), and that ‘ in reality they often fall short of democratic principles ’
(p. 314). It is a relatively uncontroversial proposition that many interest
groups (also known as civil society organizations, social movement organ-
izations or NGOs) provide neither effective internal democracies nor system-
atic opportunities for participation. The more controversial issue is how to
interpret this fi nding.
There is a dominant thread in the literature that assesses fi ndings of absent
internal democracies and the lack of participatory opportunities as ‘ defi cien-
cies ’ in need of rectifying. The solution emerging in the literature is that all
groups become democratic practitioners. Indeed, one resolution being
fl oated by scholars (see Warleigh, 2001 , p. 636; Grant 2001 , p. 347) – and
pursued by supranational institutions such as the European Commission
and the United Nations ( European Commission 2001 , p. 15; UN 2004, p. 8)
– is for group standards to be enforced: groups become internally demo-
cratic or are denied access to policy processes. This type of response draws
on a dominant – albeit largely implicit – representation discourse in the
group literature.
The group literature rarely extends beyond discussions of representation.
Thus a representation narrative dominates discussion. Dunleavy, for instance,
reiterates the general consensus in the literature that ‘ No group leader can
THE POTENTIAL AND PRACTICE OF INTEREST GROUPS 921
© Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2006 Public Administration Vol. 84, No. 4, 2006 (919–940)
publicly represent members ’ interests without regular and open procedures
for gauging their views ’ (1991, p. 20). In a similar vein, studies such as that
of Franke and Dobson (1985) probe the degree to which the policy positions
put by leaders ‘ represent ’ the views of members. This refl ects the aggregating
function attributed to groups, and the notion that they pursue the interests
of ‘ members ’ . Internal democratic processes – part and parcel of a member-
ship style affi liation – are logically required in order to aggregate and distil
the interests of members. Discussions of democratic expectations around
group behaviour refl ect the adoption of a ‘ representation ’ narrative of group
practice. Grant (2001, 2003, 2004, 2005 ), for example, calls explicitly for
‘ members ’ to be given ‘ opportunity to participate ’ in groups, for the
‘ accountability ’ of groups to ‘ their own members ’ , and for groups to be ‘ rep-
resentative ’ of the ‘ interests ’ and ‘ causes ’ they pursue. These types of expec-
tations of group practice appear to draw on what Jordan and Maloney
described as the ‘ extreme ’ and ‘ popular ’ vision of groups as ‘ voluntary,
democratically accountable, and individual based ’ (1997, pp. 70 – 1).
Similar expectations shape discussions of affi liation style. The group literature
maintains a qualitative difference in the manner by which individuals affi liate
with interest groups; some groups ‘ practice ’ more participation than others.
For instance, in their search for ‘ authentic members ’ , Baumgartner and Walker
distinguish between ‘ contributors ’ and ‘ members ’ as modes of ‘ group affi liation ’
(1990, p. 662). The former make fi nancial donations to the group and the lat-
ter take up formal membership of an association. In other literatures, ‘ con-
tributor ’ is sometimes replaced by ‘ supporter ’ . Whatever the exact formulation,
‘ member ’ is used to denote a group affi liation inclusive of some involvement
in policy formulation and the authorization of leaders, while ‘ supporter ’ or
‘ contributor ’ denotes a ‘ looser ’ group affi liation limited mostly to fi nancial
payments ( Jordan and Maloney 1997 ). Terms such as ‘ credit card participa-
tion ’ ( Richardson 1995 ), ‘ astroturf participation ’ (Cigler and Loomis 1995,
p. 396, cited in Jordan and Maloney 1997 , p. 188) and ‘ mail order groups ’ or
‘ memberless groups ’ ( Jordan and Maloney 1997 , p. 187) draw attention to the
way in which group practices fall short of representative style expectations.
The implicit normative tone here seems self-evident.
But is this line of thinking and logic as straightforward as it seems? While
largely agreeing with the empirical fi ndings – many groups are without internal
democracies or extensive options for participation – this article takes up the issue
of whether it is necessary for all groups to aspire to the same internal democratic
models. The normative tone – that poor democratic qualities are ipso facto defi -
ciencies – is, it will be argued here, without clear logic. Does it mean that just
because interest groups, by defi nition, have affi liates, they should engage with
them along democratic lines? Does it follow that all groups with affi liates should/
could also rely on democratic forms of legitimacy to underpin advocacy?
There are hints in the literature that democratic/participatory expectations
need to be more varied. For a start, many ‘ groups ’ are in fact institutions that
do not have affi liates. Jordan et al. (2004) argue that ‘ policy participants ’ –
922 DARREN R. HALPIN
© Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2006 Public Administration Vol. 84, No. 4, 2006 (919–940)
organizations that pursue policy change but without affi liates – are without
potential for democratic participation. They argue ‘ … only a minority of
what have been in the past terms “ interest groups ” are actually in a position
to even potentially enhance political participation ’ ( Jordan et al. 2004 , p. 209,
original italics). Policy participants have no affi liates, something which
removes any need for internal democracy (this is a not insignifi cant point
given that US research ( Lowery and Gray 2000 , p. 8) shows that more than
80 per cent of ‘ interest organizations ’ are in fact non-membership groups
without affi liates). Further, some interest groups – those with affi liates – do
not claim to actually ‘ represent members ’ . Jordan and Maloney (1997 , p. 191)
note that ‘ … public interest/campaigning/protest group politics do not sig-
nifi cantly extend participatory democracy ’ . Importantly, they follow this up
with, ‘ But this is not a criticism of the groups because they have not set
themselves up in the business of enhancing democracy. Groups such as
Greenpeace and FoE [Friends of the Earth] are committed to maintaining a
high profi le for environmental ends: the mass membership is a tool of that
process ’ (p. 191). This fi ts with the more general point about the suitability
of ‘ representation ’ as a metric by which to measure the contribution of
development style international non-governmental organizations (INGOs)
( Collingwood and Logister 2005 , p. 188).
Building on these observations, this article offers an alternative approach
to interpreting the internal democratic and participatory patterns of groups.
It is argued that some interest groups need not (or cannot) pursue ‘ member-
ship ’ style affi liations because to do so is unnecessary (or impossible); in
other words, their contribution to legitimating group advocacy is tenuous.
Those groups that ‘ need not ’ pursue membership affi liations are those that
cannot pursue representation; here it is suggested that they pursue solidar-
ity. The groups that ‘ cannot ’ are those capable of representation but that
fi nd practical impediments to engaging fully with their constituencies.
This article makes several propositions. Firstly, borrowing from O ’ Neill ’ s
discussion on representing nature and future generations, it is argued that
advocacy by interest groups for some constituencies simply cannot be pur-
sued through representation style behaviour; they can only be pursued
through a form of solidarity. Secondly, in turn, it is argued that solidarity
style advocacy by groups does not require (indeed does not benefi t from)
internal democratic structures. That is, some interest group advocacy is
founded on other – non-democratic – forms of legitimacy; that these same
groups have affi liates does not imply the need to engage democratically with
them. Thirdly, by deploying the representation-solidarity categories as a type
of continuum, the article demonstrates how it is possible to calibrate demo-
cratic expectations of groups and contrast them against group practices (and
changes thereof). The article concludes that the ‘ problem ’ of undemocratic
or unrepresentative groups is less a problem of recalcitrant group practice
than a problem of scholarly perception/expectation. Further, the article
contests the idea that all groups should pursue membership style affi liations
THE POTENTIAL AND PRACTICE OF INTEREST GROUPS 923
© Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2006 Public Administration Vol. 84, No. 4, 2006 (919–940)
and internal democratic practices. It argues that only a small fraction of
‘ groups ’ could ever be expected to be agents for democracy. The section that
follows pursues this conceptual distinction, while the subsequent section
demonstrates its analytical value by reviewing actual group behaviour.
EXPLORING INTEREST GROUP POTENTIAL: (RE)CALIBRATING
DEMOCRATIC EXPECTATIONS
The implicit normative aspect of the representative narrative of groups
would approve of all groups practicing membership and would frown on
supportership. However, as will become clear, this article questions the logic
of such a view. Drawing on theories of representation, the article now exam-
ines the appropriateness of linkage styles between affi liates and groups. It
is argued that expectations of ‘ democratic ’ behaviour ought to be calibrated
by the ‘ style of advocacy ’ pursued by different groups (on a continuum from
representation to solidarity); this is itself shaped by the types of constituen-
cies groups advocate for.
Pursuing representation or solidarity?
To see why the ‘ representation ’ narrative alone is insuffi cient as a heuristic
device for analysing group life, it is necessary to step back and consider what
representation implies more generally. According to Pitkin ’ s seminal work on
the subject, representation is about ‘ acting in the interest of the represented,
in a manner responsive to them ’ (1967, p. 209). Claims to representativeness
are underpinned and legitimated by reference to indicators of responsiveness.
As O ’ Neill (2001 , p. 496) has noted, the basis for ‘ any particular individual or
group making public claims to speak on behalf of the interests of others ’ rely
on ‘ … authorisation, accountability or shared identity [presence] ’ .
This account of representation and legitimacy seems straightforward
enough, yet it starts to unravel when we consider what exactly is being
represented. The question ‘ what is being represented? ’ is fundamental to
determining what type of responsiveness is required (and indeed possible).
Pitkin says, ‘ Where representation is conceived as being of unattached ab-
stractions, the consultation of anyone ’ s wishes or opinions is least likely to
seem a signifi cant part of representing ’ (1967, p. 174). According to Pitkin, it
is possible to distinguish between ‘ unattached ’ and ‘ attached ’ interests (1967,
p. 210). She says that unattached interests are ‘ interests to which no particu-
lar persons were so specially related that they could claim to be privileged
to defi ne the interests. But when people are being represented, their claim
to have a say in their interest becomes relevant ’ (1967, p. 210). The point here
is that if interests are unattached then responsiveness becomes diffi cult to
achieve. In other words, to whom, precisely – to what constituency or client
group – is the representative to be responsive to?
O ’ Neill (2001) approaches the issue of representation through a discussion
of ‘ types of constituencies ’ . He argues that some constituencies or client
924 DARREN R. HALPIN
© Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2006 Public Administration Vol. 84, No. 4, 2006 (919–940)
groups are simply unable to utilize democratic responsiveness as a way to
legitimate representatives. According to O ’ Neill, human constituencies can,
for the most part, speak in their own voice and be present. As such, they can
authorize representatives to speak for them or at least keep unauthorized
representatives accountable (by dissenting from their advocacy). These con-
stituencies require the style of representation Pitkin called for in the case of
attached interests. This is not the case for other constituencies. O ’ Neill says
that the diffi culty in representing nature, future generations and non-
humans is that ‘ … two central features of legitimization – authorization and
presence – are absent. Indeed, for non-humans and future generations there
is no possibility of those conditions being met. Neither non-humans nor
future generations can be directly present in decision making. Clearly, rep-
resentation can neither be authorized by non-humans or future generations
nor can it be rendered accountable to them ’ (2001, p. 494). For O ’ Neill, this
denies those advocating for such constituencies usual ‘ representative ’ forms
of legitimation. In the absence of the usual forms of legitimation available
to those advocating for human constituencies, he argues that ‘ … the remain-
ing source of legitimacy to claim to speak is epistemic. Those who claim to
speak on behalf of those without voice do so by an appeal to their having
knowledge of objective interests of those groups [read constituencies], often
combined with special care for them ’ ( O ’ Neill 2001 , p. 496). Advocates for
such constituencies are operating in the realm that Pitkin described for unat-
tached interests: no person is objectively better placed to speak for these
types of constituencies. Legitimating advocacy for such constituencies or
interests becomes a matter of asserting one ’ s epistemic claims, abstract qual-
ities such as scientifi c competence, spiritual connections or experiential
understandings.
The practical impossibility of advocates for non-humans and future gen-
erations actually engaging ‘ directly ’ with their constituencies removes any
‘ potential ’ for the responsiveness Pitkin identifi ed as central to acts of po-
litical representation. A narrative for advocacy, separate from representation,
is surely needed. O ’ Neill concludes that we can distinguish between ‘ …
“ acting in solidarity with ” and “ acting as a representative of ” ’ (2001, p. 492,
fn. 18). For O ’ Neill, those advocating for such constituencies engage, ‘ by
necessity ’ , in solidarity and not representation.
Characterizing group advocacy: two narratives
The above discussion has salience for how group advocacy is conceived, as
well as for the role of the participation of group affi liates in legitimating that
same advocacy. It provides the basis for a companion narrative on group
advocacy to that provided by representation.
Before elaborating on why an ideal type group pursuing solidarity is a
manifestly different proposition to one pursuing representation, a set of
additional terms are required. The core distinction is between the ‘ affi liates ’
THE POTENTIAL AND PRACTICE OF INTEREST GROUPS 925
© Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2006 Public Administration Vol. 84, No. 4, 2006 (919–940)
of a group – those who are joining the interest group – and the ‘ benefi ciaries ’
or ‘ constituency ’ of the same group – those whose interests the groups
advocacy is aiming to advance. For a group to be described as pursuing
representation, they must be pursuing the interests of their affi liates. That is
to say, the affi liates and the benefi ciaries/constituency are the same set of
individuals. As such, group leaders can access the interests they advocate for
by directly consulting with their affi liates. Responsiveness – and ‘ member-
ship ’ style linkages with affi liates – would, therefore, logically legitimize the
advocacy of group leaders. By contrast, a group pursuing solidarity is pursu-
ing the interests of the benefi ciaries who are not exclusively the affi liates. That
is, the affi liates and the benefi ciaries/constituency are mutually exclusive in
solidarity groups. Group leaders cannot logically access the interests of the
benefi ciaries via consulting with the affi liates. As such, the responsiveness
of leaders to affi liates – including membership style linkages and democratic
processes – does not itself add to the legitimacy of group advocacy.
Groups have less often been discussed in terms other than representation,
but there are exceptions. For instance, the social movement literature has
established the concept of ‘ solidarity movement ’ (see Giugni and Passy 2001 ).
According to Giugni (2001 , p. 242), solidarity movements involve ‘ people
engaging themselves on behalf of others without taking any (material)
advantage from it ’ . What is pertinent is that solidarity is about one set of
people (affi liates) engaging in advocacy on behalf of a separate constitu-
ency (benefi ciary group). This article distinguishes between groups whose
advocacy is ‘ by defi nition ’ about representation and about solidarity, taking
these defi nitions as means to calibrate democratic expectations. It is then pos-
sible to ask how these expectations (promises) contrast with their practices.
Calibrating interest group potential
This article pursues the point that interests groups, as defi ned by Jordan
et al. (2004) , can be conceived at a conceptual level as resembling two ideal
types of groups, each pursuing quite a different political purpose, making
different claims to legitimacy. Each, so it is argued, requires different demo-
cratic organizational practices to legitimate its advocacy. These generalized
expectations are shaped by the type of constituency a group advocates for.
Groups may exceed these requirements (and why they do so is worth explor-
ation), but these practices are not logically linked to nor do they enhance the
legitimacy of their advocacy claims. Groups may not match their practice to
their promise, in which case they are ‘ fair game ’ for critics of group demo-
cratic underperformance.
Calibrating expectations about appropriate democratic practices and
levels of participation can be set by defi ning whether a group embodies a
promise to pursue either representation or solidarity. The process by which
it is possible to calibrate group expectations is elaborated as follows and
summarized in tables 1 and 2 below.
926 DARREN R. HALPIN
© Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2006 Public Administration Vol. 84, No. 4, 2006 (919–940)
Solidarity
Groups that advocate for the interests of constituencies of non-humans and
future generations – those constituencies that lack entirely the potential for
representation – embody a ‘ promise ’ to pursue solidarity. Interest groups
that advocate for these types of constituencies cannot physically affi liate
those constituencies. As O ’ Neill put it, their benefi ciary group lacks the basic
capacity to be present, and is not able to be affi liated to the group or to
exercise accountability and authorization, the central components of respon-
siveness and therefore representation. These interest groups, and those who
affi liate with them, are acting ‘ in solidarity with ’ constituencies rather than
being representatives of constituencies.
Interest groups pursuing the interests of constituencies that are unable to
speak in their own voice must develop processes to give legitimacy to the
interests they advocate: they make epistemic claims. A group pursuing the
interests of nature may use, for example, scientifi c analysis of an ecosystem
to legitimate its claims that an increase in intensive land-use would be harm-
ful to the system ’ s integrity. The views of the group ’ s affi liates are not rele-
vant in terms of legitimacy. For instance, the group is unlikely to take a
survey of individuals affi liated to them to enhance their infl uence, nor are
policy-makers likely to seek any reassurance that the position advocated by
the group accords with the will of affi liated individuals. As Van Rooy (2004)
argues they are likely to invoke other ‘ legitimacy rules ’ such as ‘ victimhood ’ ,
‘ expertise ’ , ‘ experiential evidence ’ , or ‘ moral authority ’ (as opposed to em-
phasizing ‘ representative ’ considerations such as ‘ membership ’ size, breadth
and depth or ‘ internal democracy ’ such as election, accountability and control).
Joining this type of interest group amounts to a show of solidarity with a
separate constituency.
If individuals were affi liated to such a group as ‘ members ’ , and were
involved in decision making and group agenda setting, this would merely be
as part of a process to divine the interests of a third party (the group constitu-
ency or ‘ client ’ group). But it is not clear that this would actually add anything
to the legitimacy of the group. In short, groups with potential only to pursue
TABLE 1 What generalized type of advocacy is promised and/or possible?
Sorting questions… Solidarity Representation
Constituency being advocated for? Non-human/Future
generations
Human
Is an overlap between (1) those
‘affi liated’ with the interest
group; and (2) the ‘constituency’
being advocated for possible?
No Yes
Can the constituency potentially
speak in its own voice?
No chance of speaking
in own voice
Can speak in own
voice
THE POTENTIAL AND PRACTICE OF INTEREST GROUPS 927
© Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2006 Public Administration Vol. 84, No. 4, 2006 (919–940)
solidarity need only engage in supportership as an affi liation style, with its
implications for extremely shallow internal democratic practices and limited
responsiveness to affi liates. As Jordan and Maloney (1997) assert for cause
groups, ‘ … the groups do not see themselves as being vehicles for the expan-
sion of participatory democracy, and nor do the members themselves ’ (p. 191).
It is, therefore, a moot point why such solidarity groups have affi liates at all.
Groups pursuing solidarity need not have affi liates for legitimacy reasons; but
affi liates bring advantages such as funding; they gesture to electoral clout and
potentially provide a core of activists/volunteers. The size of what social
movement scholars term a group ’ s ‘ attentive public ’ (Robinson 1992, in Jordan
and Maloney 1997 , p. 57) is perhaps more important than its supporter base.
It is the resonance of the group ’ s views with an attentive public, as opposed
to the affi liated supporters, that provides groups with political power.
One could, however, imagine other positive impacts from membership
practices by groups that rightly pursue solidarity. Close contact with indi-
viduals affi liated with a solidarity group may be useful in establishing trans-
parency over the group ’ s expenditure of supporters ’ funds and in managing
its public image. It may be an important organizational incentive for recruit-
ing those who like to be ‘ active ’ .
Representation
Groups that advocate for a constituency that can be present, and affi liate
individuals from that same constituency to the group embody a ‘ promise ’
to pursue representation. These interest groups have the ‘ potential ’ for rep-
resentation since they can by defi nition affi liate those whom they advocate
for. Their benefi ciaries and affi liates can be the same people, and these indi-
viduals are able to be involved in internal democratic processes. Individuals
can form part of a sectional or categoric ( Yishai 1991 ) constituency by virtue
of their formal economic role (doctor, lawyer, mechanic, and so on) or
social/cultural identity (religion, ethnicity, and so on) or experience (for
TABLE 2 Summary of expectations for group democratic practices
Sorting questions… Solidarity Representation
Implied type of ‘linkage’ Supportership Membership
Implied extent of internal
democracy
Because those affi liated with
the group are not the
benefi ciary group they
advocate for they need not
be consulted in determining
positions
Because those affi liated with
the group are the benefi -
ciary group they need to be
consulted with
Implied source of legitimacy Epistemic source: question
of expertise or strength of
solidarity (experiences) or
empathy with benefi ciary
group
Question of representatives
being responsive to the
represented; are processes in
place for authorization and
accountability?
928 DARREN R. HALPIN
© Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2006 Public Administration Vol. 84, No. 4, 2006 (919–940)
example, prisoner, asylum seeker, unemployed person). It is the specifi c eco-
nomic function/identity/experience that individuals fulfi l that forms the
criteria for their inclusion in any constituency. In Pitkin ’ s terms, these inter-
est groups advocate for the interests ‘ attached ‘ to human constituencies
(1967).
This has implications for the expectations of interest groups advocating
for such constituencies. Individuals may decide not to join ‘ their ’ interest
group(s); nevertheless, they are still involuntarily part of the constituency
from which the group(s) must draw members/supporters and go on to claim
to represent. Individuals cannot easily ‘ exit ’ from the constituency since they
are not often given an opportunity by the political system to ‘ voluntarily ’
join the constituency (unless of course the political system comes over time
to recognize a new sub-constituency: for example, single mothers vs. other
mothers). Such groups, therefore, have an exclusive set of individuals from
which to recruit, and cannot easily refuse affi liation from those individuals
that fi t the defi nition. This approximates Dunleavy ’ s term ‘ exogeneous
group ’ , the key characteristic of which is that ‘ their potential membership is
fi xed or delimited by external factors ’ (1988, p. 33). As such, the groups are
tied to fulfi lling, or appearing to fulfi l, a charter to represent a distinct and
exclusive group of individuals: their constituency. Policy-makers often seek
a single view from an entire ‘ sector ’ or industry since there is an implicit
assumption that representative groups have a constituency that share a basic
affi nity with one another. These interest groups represent constituencies that
are made up of individuals who can speak in their own voices.
Claims to speak for sectional or categoric constituencies are, therefore,
legitimated by the accountability of leaders to their constituency and the
authorization of leaders by their constituency. There is an expectation, or
more accurately a presumption, therefore, that these groups affi liate with the
individuals they organize in a manner that resembles ‘ membership ’ . One
could imagine that measures to enforce groups with representative potential
to adhere to membership style affi liations and internal democratic proced-
ures would enhance the legitimacy of their advocacy activities. This par-
ticipatory potential/promise is not always fulfi lled and, as was reviewed
earlier, groups employ democratic processes to legitimate representative
claims to varying degrees.
By way of summary, table 1 , above, elaborates on the generalized types of
advocacy possible by interest groups, contingent largely on the type of con-
stituency being advocated for. The calibration of ‘ expectations ’ for groups in
relation to linkage and internal democracy is, as has been argued, contingent
on whether they implicitly promise to pursue solidarity of representation.
These expectations are summarized in table 2 , above.
The conclusion reached from the above is that some interest groups ‘ im-
plicitly ’ promise to pursue solidarity and others ’ representation. This pro-
vides two ideal type narratives by which to talk about group life, calibrate
expectations of democratic practice and to which practices can be usefully
THE POTENTIAL AND PRACTICE OF INTEREST GROUPS 929
© Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2006 Public Administration Vol. 84, No. 4, 2006 (919–940)
compared. It is against this set of expectations that empirical evidence of
participatory and democratic practices can be judged.
GROUP PARTICIPATORY POTENTIAL VERSUS
PRACTICE: THE EMPIRICS
The discussion above provides a heuristic device by which to calibrate ex-
pectations of group democratic practice, a preferred option to the represen-
tation only proposals reviewed at the outset of this article. This fi nal section
reviews groups active in different national (UK, Australia) systems to estab-
lish the analytical value of the above discussion. Cases are drawn from
within the literature and from the author ’ s own empirical studies. Empirical
evidence of practice is contrasted with promise (as calibrated by the ana-
lytical categories above), and generalized labels are generated which capture
the diverse way in which these theoretical labels fi nd their way into practice.
At the two ends of the continuum, we fi nd groups that in practice largely
approximate their promise of representation or solidarity. Between these are:
(1) groups that under achieve (constitute representative promises but fail to
match it with practice); (2) groups that over achieve (need only pursue soli-
darity but pursue representation); and (3) groups that under achieve repre-
sentation but for pragmatic reasons (their constituency is able to exercise
voice but access to them is diffi cult). As will be evident from the discussion
below, group life does not simply ‘ fi t ’ into either of these conceptual ‘ ideal
type ’ boxes; however, these concepts provide one way to gain purchase
on promises and practices of interest groups with affi liates with respect to
democratizing and participatory potential.
Representation and solidarity by defi nition
Two cases demonstrate where the promise of ideal type representation and
solidarity (respectively) are closely approximated by practice. The NFU Scot-
land (NFUS) is a farmers ’ union that pursues the interests of a discrete vo-
cational grouping; Scottish full time farmers. Farmers are able to be affi liated
to the group and mechanisms of responsiveness between them and group
leaders can be established. This implies a promise for representation style
advocacy; empirical analysis establishes that it matches this with practice. It
is this style of group where the representation narrative is most valuable and
appropriate. The NFUS explains its legitimacy as fl owing from an engage-
ment with ‘ members ’ couched in straightforward representative terms. At
interview a staffer explained:
We have 71 branches. … The branches are the base level of which the
members meet. So if you are a member, you join up, you get assigned to
a branch. Now the reality is … that less than 10 percent of members go
to branch meetings with any regularity. … The Council is in effect all nine
regional boards meeting together in plenary session. And there is a nu-
merical base, so for every 80 members in the branch you get one person
930 DARREN R. HALPIN
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on a regional board. The Regional Boards are responsible for appointing
the members of 8 subject committees (e.g. livestock committee, crops com-
mittee, environment and land use). Now what happens here is the chair-
man of each of the Regional Committee and the chairman of each of the
subject committees … are the Board of Directors, plus the Presidency, plus
the Treasurer plus the CEO.
The precise structure here is unimportant; the salient point is that the
NFUS pursues a cumbersome and resource intensive engagement with its
affi liates. It admits that it is not very well used, yet it persists. The rationale
for this set-up is to generate a form of responsiveness between members and
leaders in support of its representative claims – if it did not do so farmers
may exercise voice and undermine the group ’ s authority.
Interestingly, governments also recognize the NFUS ’ s representative role.
They ‘ read ’ its involvement as based on ‘ representative ’ activity (evaluating
it likewise); and they contrast it with something that is non-representative
(close to what is characterized herein as solidarity). A Scottish civil servant
responsible for agricultural policy remarked at interview:
The NFUS has its regional structure and so therefore it can say ‘ We have
put this down the line we have spoken to our members and this is what
they are saying ’ . Single issue groups … tend not to have that mechanism.
So you are then in danger of negotiating with leaders of the group who
may or may not be representative of their membership. You could get
leaders in and they may be reasonable people and you could come to
some sort of deal and that just falls apart. …
Groups such as the NFUS are ‘ representation by defi nition ’ types of groups:
they ‘ can ’ engage directly with their affi liates (who are also their benefi ciary/
constituency group) and they ‘ do ’ . Responsiveness is possible between rep-
resentatives and the represented, and structures are in place to make that
possible. The literature is replete with cases where such practices, while for-
mally available, are used infrequently. However, following Pitkin ’ s point
above, the key is that internal democratic practices are there and responsive-
ness is possible. If nothing else, these groups are (to borrow Hirschman ’ s
terms) vulnerable to ‘ exit with voice ’ ; there is an inbuilt imperative for lead-
ers to ensure some degree of fi t between the interests they pursue and those
of their membership lest they risk losing the trust and status ascribed to them
from government (and other actors). Interviews revealed quite an amount
of activity designed to assess the support of ‘ rebel ’ farmer organizations and
to try and incorporate their concerns (a co-option strategy). By contrast,
groups such as WWF Scotland (see also below) revealed that they sought
out complementary niches alongside other groups advocating for nature.
The other end of the representation – solidarity continuum is a group such
as the World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF) Scotland. Its claim – with ‘ cause ’
like references – is that it takes action for a living planet. It advocates for nature:
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it promises solidarity and delivers it. It offers a very open type of affi liation,
recruiting through direct mail and Internet strategies, seeking up to £10 per
month from subscribers. While the language of ‘ member ’ is used, the internal
participatory and democratic opportunities are minimal. As one interviewee
from WWF Scotland explained, in straightforward solidarity terms:
We do not pretend to be representative. We offer individuals a product
and they can choose to support it by paying subscriptions. Therefore we
have no need to consult with members. In fact when we ask them if they
wanted to be consulted they said ‘ No ’ . They preferred the resources to go
into getting the message out. Our role is informing the policy process. The
role of science is high as it provides the basis for our advocacy. We offer
an expert view and not representation.
Accountability to affi liates is an indirect affair. The interviewee further
stated: ‘ … we do have 26,000 supporters in Scotland, and the annual
subscription can be withdrawn at any time ’ . Above a respectable level of
support, the actual number becomes less important to government since
it is more concerned with the sentiment and sympathy of the group ’ s ‘ atten-
tive public ’ .
In terms of political strategy, then, the primary emphasis is not on mediat-
ing between the views and mood of group affi liates and the political ‘ reali-
ties ’ of civil servants and elected offi cials. Rather, the focus is on activating
and shaping public opinion and the quality of their science. The WWF
Scotland spokesperson remarked: ‘ Our legitimacy arises from the quality of
our contribution to the debate. … If science is one plank of the armoury then
public opinion is the other ’ . The most salient point is that the route of pub-
lic opinion and science – not the predispositions of a majority of WWF
affi liates – is used to drive home advocacy. As referred to earlier, the WWF ’ s
concern is to mobilize and gesture to as big an ‘ attentive public ’ as is pos-
sible, while gathering suffi cient paying supporters to keep its operation
running.
Groups such as the WWF Scotland could be conveniently characterized as
groups who pursue ‘ solidarity by defi nition ’ . They match a promise for
solidarity with equivalent practice. Their advocacy need not rest on member-
ship and internal democratic processes. The literature consistently fi nds that
groups advocating for constituencies such as non-humans and the environ-
ment operate bereft of opportunities for political engagement by supporters
and seek to maximize supporter revenues (see Jordan and Maloney (1997)
for discussion of FoE and Greenpeace). This article does not quarrel with the
empirical veracity of this image. Rather, we wonder if those constituencies
(the bread and butter of so-called ‘ cause ’ or ‘ campaign ’ groups) could in fact
be organized in any different way? Put another way, is this a ‘ natural ’ mode
to organize advocacy for such constituencies or is it an unwelcome develop-
ment eroding an otherwise more democratic and participatory alternative?
This article errs towards the former view.
932 DARREN R. HALPIN
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Additional diversity
Unsurprisingly, for the most part group practices vary signifi cantly from the
types of promises they embody for representation and/or solidarity (as im-
puted from the conceptual framework discussed above). A few variations
demonstrate the use of these analytical categories in calibrating potential and
contrasting it with practice: it shows how they provide traction in interpret-
ing group practice and opening up points for further debate (particularly
with respect to what practical impediments would make a ‘ failure ’ to fulfi l
their representative promise justifi able).
Solidarity by choice
Groups who have the potential for representation, and confront very few
obvious impediments to affi liating their benefi ciary group, but who fail to
fulfi l that potential, could be referred to as ‘ solidarity by choice ’ groups. It
is here – where the practices of groups fail to match the promise for repre-
sentation – that claims of democratic underachievement seem most relevant.
It is to these groups that critics of group democratic practice should properly
aim their criticisms. It is extremely hard to identify these groups, given that
a majority of interest groups project and explain their internal procedures in
representative terms (but see also the case of the Royal National Institute of
the Blind which follows). But the most important trend to note in this regard
is the tendency for groups with an implicit promise of representation to
reduce affi liation practices towards supportership. Jordan and Halpin (2004 ,
pp. 447 – 8) report the way in which the Federation of Small Businesses (FSB)
in the UK has shifted its affi liation from membership to ‘ fee for service
terms ’ . They note that ‘ The “ second wave ” of FSB members [post 1990s] are
invited into membership as an economic decision – there need be no iden-
tifi cation with goals ’ . They conclude that this development weakens its ca-
pacity to ‘ compensate for a participatory decline in voting and party activity ’
and they come to resemble ‘ the broad picture in public interest groups ’ (p. 447).
This is not an isolated instance; similar trends are reported in Australia
( Halpin and Martin 1999 ). This type of shift towards solidarity by choice
seems connected with efforts by groups to pursue ‘ professionalized ’ advo-
cacy – which requires increased fi nancial resources, a passive membership
and increased leadership autonomy.
Representation by choice
There are some instances where a group that is clearly limited to pursuing
solidarity (solidarity by defi nition) – that is, its affi liates are not the same as
the benefi ciary group – nevertheless adopts an internal structure appropriate
for groups pursuing representation. They represent democratic overachiev-
ers. The National Trust for Scotland is one such group that pursues ‘ repre-
sentation by choice ’ . Its mission is to ‘ protect and promote Scotland ’ s natural
and cultural heritage for present and future generations to enjoy ’ . It uses the
language of membership and asks individuals to join by way of a modest
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annual fee. ‘ Members ’ are free to stand for election at an Annual General
Meeting, although the positions are not hotly contested.
In relation to policy advocacy, its ‘ benefi ciary ’ group is ambiguous. In its
recent ‘ Governance Review ’ of 2003, it stated:
It is undoubtedly the case that the Trust has a large number of members –
some 260,000 at the latest – that it relies heavily on income received from
the membership in the form of annual, or other, subscriptions, and that it
has clear responsibilities towards its members. The Trust is not, however,
wholly and solely a membership organisation … the Trust holds its properties
for the benefi t of the nation as a whole. It is conceivable, therefore, that
circumstances could arise in which the Trust would have to give prefer-
ence to the interests of the nation over the interests of its membership.
(emphasis added)
The need to pursue a position at direct odds with a membership decision –
presumably democratically produced – is an eventuality that is not likely to
emerge in ‘ representative by defi nition ’ groups. The National Trust for
Scotland ’ s advocacy, in practice, rests on a bank of relevant expertise – the
democratically determined consensus among its members is not a strong
feature of legitimating its stated policy. Why these democratic practices are
pursued is a moot point and one that deserves further empirical work.
However, initial research suggests that these practices are often hangovers
from early structures where such groups were effectively organizations of
heritage and cultural ‘ experts ’ , and hence their ‘ expert ’ opinions mattered.
Representational aspirants
Some groups do not fulfi l their potential for representation, but confront
conditions that make doing so diffi cult. They could be referred to as ‘ repre-
sentational aspirants ’ . While O ’ Neill (2001) applied the term solidarity to
those advocating for non-human constituencies (those without possibility
for presence), some groups fi nd participatory promises extremely hard to
fulfi l, largely because the constituencies they seek to advocate for – their
benefi ciary group – are diffi cult to mobilize. This is most obvious in the case
of advocates for constituencies that are politically or economically marginal-
ized (for example, the unemployed, prisoners, asylum seekers).
The example of Amnesty International (AI), examined by Jordan and
Maloney (1997) , is just such a case. They cite Ennals (1982), who observed
that the focus of AIs work was defi ned by the answer to the question ‘ …
what will be the most benefi cial to the interests of the prisoners involved? ’
( Jordan and Maloney 1997 , p. 32). AI is not pretending to represent its mem-
bers but to act in the interests of prisoners held unjustly. They go on to cite
Ennels ’ s description of the AI as run by a secretariat somewhat remote from
the concerns of supporters. AGMs and annual elections exist, but these are
under attended and largely divorced from strategic decision making. Leaders
934 DARREN R. HALPIN
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decide which ‘ prisoners ’ are to be championed and how to proceed in pro-
tecting their interests.
In short, for these groups, it is very diffi cult, for whatever reason, to ef-
fectively establish a system of responsiveness between these constituencies
and their advocates. Potential exists but serious (perhaps insurmountable)
impediments exist to converting this into practice. As such, groups may have
potential for representation, but instead pursue solidarity; they aspire to
representation but practice solidarity. This leaves them open to criticism that
they are undemocratic and unrepresentative. As Grant has argued of such
groups more generally: ‘ … however well-intentioned they are, they are not
the authentic voice of the excluded groups [read constituencies ] themselves ’
(2001, p. 346). The concern with ‘ authenticity ’ emerges from the observation
that some marginalized constituencies do not often exercise presence or
speak in their own voice; but, crucially, they have the potential for both.
Some argue that this potential should be exercised more often ( Young 1989;
Phillips 1995 ).
In practice, there are limits to what is popularly accepted in relation to
representing attached interests as though they were unattached. Phillips
notes that the importance of this requirement for presence surely fl uctuates
between constituencies: ‘ some experiences are more detachable than others ’
(2001, p. 26). For example, she says that it appears less problematic to have
an agricultural expert represent the interests of farmers than it would for a
male expert on gender to represent women, given that the experiences of the
former constituency are more ‘ objectively ’ accessible than those of the latter.
This type of pragmatic principle – ‘ objective accessibility ’ – points to possible
ways of policing the boundaries of authenticity. These types of consider-
ations point to how groups who have representative potential, yet practice
solidarity, can be defensible. That is, to borrow the terminology of Dalton
and Lyons (2004, p. 15), these types of principles help to sort out which
groups that advocate for the disadvantaged should be ‘ governed by the
disadvantaged ’ [representative] and which ‘ governed for the disadvantaged ’
[solidarity].
Returning to the case of AI, the absence of internal democracy seems ap-
propriate; after all it is the input of prisoners that would enhance legitimacy.
The argument for AI to be democratically accountability to affi liates is weak,
yet to criticize it for not engaging better with the political prisoners they
advocate for is clearly implausible. Scholars and observers may be able to
easily spot the ‘ potential ’ for representation, but the challenges for group
leaders to put potential into ‘ practice ’ are often immense.
Shifting along the representation – solidarity continuum:
re-defi ning practice and promises
While the analytical categories, as well as the discussion above, approaches
groups in a static, snapshot manner, groups can shift, redefi ning both prom-
ises/potential and practices. Groups that at one time practiced solidarity
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may shift to a representation style of operation: over time they have
‘ redefi ned their practice ’ . The Royal National Institute of the Blind (RNIB)
is a group that pursues the interests of the blind. Since 2002 it has affi liated
the blind into membership, in part a reaction to the type of criticism about
authenticity cited above. It explains:
RNIB is a membership organisation which radically affects how we
govern ourselves. Being a member is all about being closer: to information
that can help you; to a community of other members; and to RNIB itself
where you can make your voice heard and infl uence what we do.
The RNIB offers ‘ full membership ’ to those who are blind and partially
sighted their families and carers. Associate membership is offered to ‘ well-
wishers ’ and to ‘ related professionals ’ . Its structure is a recent development.
Its website ( http://www.rnib.org.uk ) explains:
We began recruiting to our new mass membership in 2002 … because: We
want to give a say to a greater proportion of blind and partially sighted
people on how we are run and how we deliver our services. Many blind
and partially sighted people have had no input into our decision making
until now. Membership will give people that, by involving them in con-
sultations and giving them a chance to vote and stand for election.
There is also an apparent appreciation of the increased status that member-
ship brings. It continues:
a large membership will give RNIB a stronger voice when we negotiate
on behalf of blind and partially sighted people with Government and
other organisations. That will help us press for more changes to the law,
more accessible services and better services for blind and partially sighted
people generally.
The RNIB has turned away from a solidarity style in order to fulfi l its
implicit promise as a representative group (a contrast to the turn towards
solidarity style practices by the FSB discussed earlier). Leaders, such as those
at the RNIB, apparently recognize a value in matching participatory poten-
tial for representation (and membership) with democratic practices. This
type of change of group modus operandi is what the authenticity critics would
no doubt like to see across the board. But clearly, as the Amnesty International
example above indicates, some such transformations are easier to make than
others.
A similar phenomenon, but in the reverse direction, is evident in the case
of the Australian Conservation Foundation (ACF). It has changed over time
from a group pursuing representation to one pursuing solidarity: in other
words, it has ‘ redefi ned its promise ’ . As Warhurst (1994) explains, the ACF
commenced life as a ‘ “ semi-scientifi c body ” … and drew upon the upper ech-
elons of scientists in government and universities ’ (p. 77). It had active AGMs
and contested elections for a board which then set strategic direction. Post
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1970s, it pursued a more radical agenda and tactics, and opened up its mem-
bership to a mass public. In the latest period covered, Warhurst explains how
the ACF appointed a lawyer as Director and a rock star as its President. The
organization for senior scientists had become a mass affi liation group pursu-
ing an environmental agenda. The ACF started life as a group of professional
ecologists concerned with the environment, its legitimacy arising from the
democratically derived view of its professional membership. It has ended
up as a group pursuing affi liations with supporters and generating an atten-
tive mass public to show solidarity with nature. Warhurst (1994) notes that
while ‘ The culture of the organisation is participative … the leadership has
tended to overshadow the membership … ’ (p. 82). Indeed, the ACF itself now
talks of supporters and volunteers; its web site does not explicitly show how
a ‘ member ’ can actually infl uence the group direction (see http://www.
acfonline.org.au ). That the ACF has changed from a group with representa-
tive potential to one with solidarity potential – without a name change –
highlights both the potential for change and the diffi culty in identifying it
from afar.
This review of group practices establishes the way in which these two
narratives of group advocacy help to calibrate expectations which, in turn,
provides a nuanced set of expectations against which practice can be inter-
preted. Many other labels could be generated from additional case study
review. The simple point to be made here is that these ideal type labels (rep-
resentation and solidarity) provide an analytical tool for comparing and
contrasting group promise with the diversity (and changeability) of group
practice.
CONCLUSION
The embrace of non governmental organizations and organized civil society
as vehicles by which to address democratic defi cit has been guided by ex-
pectations of groups as little democracies. These high expectations have been
justly fettered by reminders that in fact many groups do not themselves
embody democratic internal practices. However, rather than question
whether the expectations of groups are actually appropriate, scholars have
proceeded to scrutinize the representativeness of groups, highlighting ‘ defi -
ciencies ’ and fl oating the idea of standards and checks to enforce democratic
practices upon all groups. This article has taken one step back to scrutinize
what potential groups have to deliver on these heightened expectations. The
conclusion is that it is largely our scholarly expectations of groups, rather
than ‘ defi cient ’ group practices, which are in need of review.
In defence of this position, a number of points have been made. Firstly,
the article establishes that only a small minority of all groups actually have
any potential to meet expectations for democratic practice. Pressure partici-
pants – groups without affi liates (accounting for as much as 80 per cent of
all policy participants) – are by defi nition unable to comply with such
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demands; they would fail any internal democratic tests proposed. Only in-
terest groups – defi ned as those with affi liates – have even the potential to
adopt internal democratic practices.
The second point is that only a sub-set of interest groups are able to engage
with the constituencies they are advocating for. For some groups – those
advocating for non-humans, future generations and nature – establishing
leadership responsiveness to affi liates is not going to generate representa-
tiveness or democratic legitimacy. Calls for groups to become more ‘ repre-
sentative ’ , upon threat of being restricted from policy access, miss the larger
point that many groups do not in fact have any ‘ potential ’ for representation.
Two narratives of group life were elaborated – representation and solidarity –
each of which established a different set of expectations for linkage with
affi liates. It is argued that scholars should recalibrate expectations of group
democratic practice based on what their promise is – whether for represen-
tation or solidarity – with this largely dictated by the type of constituency
being advocated for.
The article uses these analytical categories to review the conduct of a broad
range of well-known groups, across countries, for which data would be read-
ily accessible to others in the scholarly community. Two groups were identi-
fi ed that illustrated where practice most approximated potential. As we
might anticipate, a review of other groups shows that their practices can be
described as spanning the full length of the solidarity – representation con-
tinuum. The diffi culty in accessing constituencies, and drawing them into
direct affi liation with a group, made ‘ representing ’ some constituencies – and
typically those politically marginalized already – extremely diffi cult to prac-
tice, despite it being a possibility. Such interest groups would fail tests of
representativeness. But denying them access would impede the task of
political inclusion that many scholars would be willing to support. This
highlights how the task of addressing democratic defi cits through enhancing
group ‘ representativeness ’ may work against, or at cross purposes to, that
of political inclusion.
In agreeing with the suggestions that there needs to be more debate over
the ‘ representativeness ’ of groups (see Grant 2001, 2003, 2004, 2005; Warleigh
2000, 2001 ), the position developed in the article suggests that an across the
board insistence on groups practising ‘ membership ’ style affi liations and
internal democracies would be overly heavy-handed, possibly even coun-
terproductive. More nuanced approaches to vetting the policy involvement
of groups suggest themselves. The argument put in this article clarifi es the
implicit potential of groups (based on the constituency advocated for) – to
show solidarity or to represent – and suggests how this translates into forms
of group affi liation – supportership and membership.
The argument made in this article debates the position that all ‘ interest
groups ’ ‘ should ’ pursue membership style affi liations and internal demo-
cratic practices. Theoretically, this approach assumes that all groups pursue
representation, a case that is under-made and a view that this article contests.
938 DARREN R. HALPIN
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Practically, it underplays the diffi culties in actually mobilizing some con-
stituencies by (at least potentially) sympathetic or altruistic individuals. For
example, if the affi liates of WWF Scotland were to decide lobbying positions,
would that actually contribute to representing the environment? The present
practices of the National Trust for Scotland highlight the ambiguity (and
potential for tensions over accountability) that membership style affi liations
bring to what are ostensibly ‘ solidarity by necessity ’ groups. Until the bene-
fi ts of such representative practices are more evident, it is unclear why
groups would and should go down that path.
Finally, this article argues that the number of ‘ groups ’ to which democratic
expectations are invested need to be contained to a rather narrow slice of the
entire population. Following Jordan et al. (2004) , ‘ policy participants ’ (likely
to be the bulk of policy active institutions) are discounted as groups with
democratization potential. To this, the present article adds groups with
potential for solidarity (solidarity by defi nition) in addition to groups capable
of representation but who fi nd insurmountable impediments to engaging
directly with their constituency (representational aspirants). Conceptually
confl ating group ‘ affi liates ’ with the ‘ constituency ’ (or ‘ benefi ciary group ’ ) has
inhibited a more fi ne-grained account of the participatory potential of interest
groups. By disaggregating these two terms, this article provides one way to
gain purchase on the question of appropriate group democratic practices. The
suggestion here is not that the conceptual distinction between solidarity and
representation be pursued directly in deciding on access to policy processes:
it is not intended as the basis of any iron rule of legitimacy. Rather, it is
anticipated that this will provide a basis to problematize the issue further.
Debates as to what extent the disjuncture between representative promise and
group practice can be reasonably tolerated, and the impact this would have
on the quality and integrity of democratic systems of government, are logical
extensions of the ground opened up by the approach pursued here.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
The author would like to acknowledge the helpful comments on earlier
drafts of this article by Wyn Grant, Grant Jordan, Peter McLaverty and
Justin Greenwood. The comments of the three anonymous reviewers were
both challenging and insightful. The usual disclaimers apply.
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