Conference on Western Aid to Eastern Europe, Helsinki ...



Paper Presented at the Conference on Western Aid to Eastern Europe, Aleksanteri Institute, Helsinki, November 28, 2002. Revised, December 2003.

What Really Happens When We Export Democracy:  Experiences from the Balkans

Steven Sampson

Dept. of Social Anthropology

Lund University

Lund, Sweden

sampson@get2net.dk

The basic premise of social science is that ‘things are not what they seem’. This is certainly the case when we examine Western aid to Eastern Europe, and particularly if we examine the case of Western programs to build democracy. The phrase ‘things are not what they seem’, can have several, understandings, of course. The most common understanding is that the Western democracy export has been all talk but no action. That is, the West has used the rhetoric of democracy and human rights, but that the amount of resources committed to the long term democratic development has been much less than was promised, or needed. In this line of thinking, the critique is that any resources that have been used have gone into the hands of Western consultants or been wasted on symbolic meetings, seminars or events for a local Western-oriented elite. One needs only to browse the criticisms of East European civil society activists to note this critique.

A second way in which we understand ‘things are not what they seem’ emphasizes there exists only a façade of democracy. This critique recognizes the presence of Western style forums, like parliaments or human rights commissions now visible in the East; it recognizes the thousands of NGOs with their mission statements and advocacy activities; it acknowledges the infrastructure of seminars and training, the programs and projects, and the ritual events like elections, which must be judged ‘free and fair’ by people riding around in white jeeps wearing light blue hats. But with all this, activity, the critique here is that the fundamental structure is not democratic. For the most cynical observers, all this is nothing but ‘Faking Democracy’, to use the title of a book about Bosnia by David Chandler. For the frustrated local intelligentsia in Eastern Europe, especially those who like sitting in cafes or travelling around to Western universities to tell us how things really are, the West has ‘imposed its values’ upon us, or has used up a lot of ‘our money’ in expensive trips and consulting fees. In their view, democracy assistance has not created democracy. It has instead created donor dependent organisations and an opportunistic local elite who will say the right things in order to obtain access to resources.

This kind of rhetoric, known as donor bashing, is common at almost all conference dealing with democracy, civil society, and development in Eastern Europe and the Balkans. It is a peculiar variant of ‘things are not what they seem’. It says that democracy has not really been transplanted. The West had another ‘agenda’, to use a popular word. The agenda was one of control, or colonialism, or some kind of plan. The donor bashers use a lot of time trying to figure out what ‘our plan’ was. Seen from down there -- east or south -- we find conspiracy theories about the plans of Brussels, Strasbourg, about the Soros Foundation, about foreigners and their local lackeys, or about Alcatel and various corporations. In Albania there is a syndrome called ‘seminarism’; in Kosovo I have heard the word ‘Sorosani’, and in Romania, ‘the Soros mafia’.

Conspiracy theories are about inserting some kind of order into a chaotic, incomprehensible world. In fact, I wish the West did have a concerted plan. Rather, the harsh reality is that Western democracy assistance is not so much a concerted plan or policy as it is a set of improvisational measures. These measures, in peaks of activity followed by slowdowns and then exit, are affected by national policies, foreign donor priorities, international crises and even fashions and fads. Western actors operate with contradictory ideas of what democracy is and how to achieve it. We operate with changing priorities, contradictory impressions, half finished projects, and conflicting agendas. What comes out is some kind of compromise, a kind of wagon with 3 wheels. You get something that looks like democracy assistance, something that talks like democracy assistance, well, then it must be democracy assistance. The problem, very simply, is that democracy assistance should be viewed as something different from that end state of a political system we call ‘democracy’.

Hence, the social science premise that ‘things are not what they seem’, when applied to democracy assistance, tells us that either nothing has been done, or that what has been done is another Western project.

Here I will argue that there is a third understanding of ‘things are not what they seem’ when applied to democracy assistance. It is that things are more complicated. The complication is that democracy assistance and democracy should be viewed as separate, and at times even conflicting, phenomena. In this sense, I would argue that some democracy assistance projects are not achieved, despite the good intentions of all concerned (that the Western democratisers are not evil, stupid, corrupt or naive). That other democracy projects are not achieved because of various conflicts of interest (that the West is not all that powerful); and that some progressive developments emerge which were not even part of the project. In other words, democracy assistance, like other social interventions, is replete with unintended consequences, both positive and negative. And now, with a good decade of democracy assistance to the former socialist countries, it is time that we assess what it is that we did, how we did it, why we did it, why things turned out the way they did, and where things are going. I think the most interesting riddle here is whether democracy assistance made a difference. I will argue here that democracy assistance has indeed made a difference in these societies, but in ways in which we have not yet understood.

This difference is most visible in the field of rhetoric. Walk into a gypsy quarter in a Romanian village and they will start talking about ‘human rights’. Listen to a group of Serb refugees or IDPs in eastern Bosnia or in Kosovo, and they, too, will start talking about ‘human rights’ and what the foreign donors should do. Listen to any political party in the former communist sphere, and they will talk about rights, voting, popular sovereignty, fighting bureaucracy, and empowerment. It is a rhetoric which reflects democracy assistance, and it is supplemented by expectations of actions from others. Whether it’s all ‘democracy’ is of course, another story.

Moreover, I think we forget that with all the complications and missed opportunities in the area of democracy assistance, with all the ‘lessons not learned’ (to use a recent study analysing Bosnia), with all the bureaucracy and intrigues common to democracy assistance programs, it is astounding that things are in fact not worse in these countries. Is it because of or in spite of democracy assistance programs? I will propose here that democracy assistance has ‘worked’, but that it has not in the way we intended, nor in the way the donor bashers, with all their self-assured rhetoric, understand. It even works when sometimes we did not know exactly what we were doing.

The everyday world of democracy assistance, human rights promotion and civil society aid is filled with pressing deadlines, continuous meetings, quickly drafted memoranda, complicated project designs, appraisal reports, evaluation schemes, capacity assessments, budget redrafts, and then, quickly, on to the next project. Such activities leave little room for reflection, for taking a step back and trying to figure out what is going on.

Let me therefore try to elaborate on what I think are key consequences of democracy assistance -- intended, unintended, positive, negative, direct, indirect, psychological, institutional. My point will be to show that it is best to start with this simple list of consequences, and that in our ongoing activities to foster democracy, in the East, in the Balkans, and in the future in Chechnya, Iraq, Afghanistan, Burma, or in China, that we can at least understand why things are not what they seem.

In pursuing this discussion, I will take examples from my own experience, both as a researcher on Eastern Europe and civil society, and as a participant in various democracy assistance projects in Romania, Albania, Bosnia and Kosovo. Not all these projects were equally successful. Those projects that succeeded were those where we realized that the local actors with whom we work have their own interests, but that these do not have to be in conflict with the interests of the project. Most recently I have worked in Kosovo to study democracy assistance programs, particularly those run by the OSCE and USAID.

An anthropology of democracy assistance entails that we are not especially preoccupied with discovering the gap between words and deeds. We simply assume that there is a gap, and that this is a normal part of any social practice. Rather we are interested in how people experience this gap, and how they try to resolve it in their everyday life. An anthropology of democracy assistance is thus based on participant-observation at an everyday level. We get to know one particular scene, one village, and here one program, very well. Being immersed in a specific activity means that I am not so conversant about the ‘big picture’. Hence, I don’t know how much money is being used to make democracy in Kosovo. But I can tell you what it’s like to sit at a training session on conflict resolution or attend a seminar on strategic planning with 10 NGOs in a small town; or what the everyday activity is of the civil society department of the OSCE office in Kosovo, or how a project gets started in the field office of a small Serb enclave. This, what you might call, everyday democracy assistance.

THE NATURE OF EVERYDAY DEMOCRACY ASSISTANCE

Democracy is what societies or organizations have when there are specific attitudes, practices and structures which enable people to exert control over their lives. Democracy assistance are those efforts intended to foster more control. Democracy assistance is intended to help people acquire the skills, pursue the values, and construct institutions by which they can fulfill their needs in ways which respect and enhance human rights and social development.

Democracy has an instrumental aspect of course. We in the West carry out democracy assistance because it is in our interest. It is considered necessary for economic development, political stability, and it is a means of achieving security and preventing economic or political refugees from arriving at our own borders. The popular participation and tolerance that democracy is supposed to bring with it are intended to create societies that are stable and which can develop in a healthy way while respecting human rights. The need for democracy was most pressing for those societies on the borders of the EU, to the south and east. In these days of global terrorist threats, however, democracy is now a global imperative.

Democracy is also normative activity. Democracy, like human rights, is a good thing to have. Good things should be spread around, so most Western countries now have democracy assistance programs operating alongside their development programs. Such assistance is meant to help countries get on the proper path, to speed things up, to provide the structures, training in skills, or stimulate attitudes in which a democratic society can develop. The phrase most often used here is ‘capacity building’ or ‘institution building’. Democracy assistance is about ‘capacity building’ just like Stalin used to talk about ‘building socialism’. Like ‘building socialism’ democracy interventions are supposed to help societies jump over stages, to ‘catch up and overtake’. But like socialism, democracy is on a horizon which keeps receding as we approach it. While we are building the institutions, conducting the training, and implementing the measures which make Eastern Europe resemble Western Europe, we discover that in fact, these societies are not all that democratic after all. We find out that elections are often manipulated, that media are not responsible, that parties are not democratic, that government remains unaccountable, that politicians are primarily interested in getting elected than in doing good, that officials continue to be patronizing or arrogant (and at times corrupt), and that the citizens we’re trying to help would rather have a strong fatherly leader and the Gypsies behind walls instead of responsible politicians and a tolerant society. In Bosnia and Kosovo, to take two recent examples, we find the wrong parties and wrong people being elected. We find democratic elections electing undemocratic politicians. What a mess.

The solution to these dilemmas is more capacity-building, more skills transfer, more training, and more awareness raising. It is a solution based on moulding public opinion so that people understand where their real interests lie. If all this sounds like the elite project of socialist mobilization, the kind conducted by the ‘leading cadres’, well, I think it is. The only concept missing from the democracy assistance panoply is ‘false consciousness’.

Nowhere is the gap between formal institutions and rhetoric and the everyday practice of democracy so marked as in Southeast Europe. The Balkans has always been known for the strong role played by its informal structures. Living under empires and with weak states, the societies of Southeast Europe have been characterized by their strong kinship and friend ties, by bonds of loyalty and patronage. The peoples who live in the Balkans have stubbornly resisted imperialist, fascist and socialist oppression; they have fought for national liberation; and they have been immensely creative in getting around insensitive, inefficient or oppressive bureaucracies. The parallel institutions, of which those in pre-1999 Kosovo were only one variety, could be seen as a form of intrinsic civil society, as a means by which ordinary people developed their own solutions to institutions which were unable to help them deal with their most basic problems. Democracy assistance was ostensibly supposed to strengthen people’s social initiative, transforming erstwhile structures of resistance into legitimate structures of civic participation.

The paradox of the Balkans is that the same social structures which have facilitated people’s ability to survive under the most adverse conditions can also be those most resistant to democratic institution building. Kinship and friendship become stubborn codes of honour, nepotism or even blood revenge. Informal networks become connections, clientelism, bribery and corruption. The legacy of scepticism toward formal institutions becomes a gap between society and the state. Some of the people who led guerrilla wars, organized the parallel institutions and inspired national movements are now intimidating their political enemies, smuggling cigarettes, laundering money or swindling the state. In rhetorical terms, this syndrome is called ‘Balkan mentality’; for anthropologists it is ‘culture’, and for those in cultural studies it may be Orientalism, or the more trendy ‘demonization’.

Democracy assistance in the Balkans confronts clientilistic societies and tries to build a public sphere, revitalize civil society, and integrate parallel institutions. The understanding from the West is that the locals need different kinds of incentives, education campaigns, and new structures. Most of all, they need training in order to ‘think democratically’. In this conception, democracy is not simply a political process or set of institutions. It is an attitude. One acquires a mentality of tolerance. Democracy assistance discourse, when articulated by foreigners and even by their local partners, is replete with laments about the lack of such a mentality of tolerance and of public engagement. Private life remains intense and authentic, public life is nasty and opportunist. There is the evening promenade to meet friends and neighbours, a form of public life to be sure, but there is no evening meeting of a community association or campaign to clean up the garbage in front of one’s own building.

In the Balkans as in other places, we speak of a ‘democratic deficit’. It is a deficit of effective institutions such as courts and interest organizations, a deficit of healthy practices such as good governance, and a deficit of attitudes which can promote civic engagement, volunteerism and tolerance. To compensate for this shortcoming, the international community seeks to carry out interventions. These democracy interventions are often so abstract that they are invariably articulated as metaphors: there is the metaphor of fertilizing, planting ‘the seeds of democracy’ (the American democracy program was initially called the SEED program). There is the metaphor of inoculation or vaccination, in which a country receives a democratic ‘injection’ so that their democratic institutions can be ‘strengthened’. There is a metaphor of the ‘well’, in which aid projects can ‘tap into’ the hidden wellspring of civic participation. There is the metaphor of construction, as when programs are designed to ‘build civil society’, ‘consolidate democracy’ and ‘construct’ democratic institutions. In Kosovo the international aid is formed by four ‘pillars’, one of which, the OSCE, is the ‘institution-building’ pillar. In these metaphorical constructions, the Balkans are viewed as an empty field, a sick body, an imminent reservoir or a crumbling building. Now all these conceptions are metaphors, to be sure, and one should beware of making too much of them. Nevertheless, metaphors have a way of taking on a life of their own. Moreover, one is hardpressed to imagine how democracy interventions of this type could coalesce with the rhetoric of ‘participation’ which characterizes the rhetoric of virtually any Western democracy program.

It is these metaphors which help make democracy assistance a ‘world’ of its own. By ‘world’, I mean a set of overarching ideas, practices and institutions by which link diverse groups of individuals and organisations. These groups may include actors as diverse as an EU parliamentary delegation, the team of a Danish consulting company, a local municipal administrator, a program officer at the OSCE field office, an evaluator from a humanitarian organisation such as Save the Children, and an activist in a youth organization, such as the Kosovo ‘post-pessimists’. What is it that brings this diverse group together as part of a single ‘world’? I would argue they are brought together by a common understanding of democracy as an intervention, as a project. It is the project of ‘democracy assistance’. For this reason, closer examination of project society is warranted.

PROJECT SOCIETY

Project society is about the allocation of resources in an organized, at times bureaucratic, fashion. Projects entail a special kind of activity: short term activities with a budget and a time schedule. Projects always end, ostensibly to be replaced by policy, but normally to be replaced by yet another project. Projects involve a specific structure of people and inputs, beginning with the donor and the donor’s priorities, the project identification mission, the feasibility study or appraisal, the selection of a local implementing partner, the disbursement of funds, the monitoring, the coordination with other projects, the evaluation, and of course, the next project.

The practices of project society demand a special kind of language, almost like the wooden language of Stalinism. Passing on knowledge is called ‘training’. Passing on knowledge to selected cadres is called ‘training of trainers’ or TOT. Getting better at something is called ‘capacity building’. Being able to say what you want to do is a ‘mission statement’. When we understand what’s going on we speak of ‘transparency’. Trying to find out what’s going on is called ‘networking’. Figuring out who will benefit is ‘stakeholder analysis’. Finding the money is called ‘fund raising’. Making sure you don’t waste it is called ‘donor coordination’. Surviving after the money runs out is called ‘sustainability’. Donors who are upset about lacking results are suffering from ‘donor fatigue’. Taking your money somewhere else is an ‘exit strategy’. Failure to find a recipient is called ‘absorption problems’. And when there are too many donors and not enough recipients, you have ‘donor constipation’. Participation in this world of projects requires understanding what are the latest key words and concepts which can magically generate money: this year its ‘empowerment’, then ‘good governance’, now ‘income generation’, but don’t forget ‘trafficking’ and ‘anti-corruption’; and of course, there is the ubiquitous ‘partnership’. Partnership is now a short-term contract, subject to ‘conditionality’. In such partnerships, either party can withdraw at any time. Partnership has replaced the more morally founded concept of ‘solidarity’.

Where democracy assistance is applied to the domain of civil society, the goal is to create or support a sufficient number of effective voluntary associations. These NGOs should not only offer services, i.e., fill in the gaps left by the state; they should also carry out ‘advocacy’, i.e., influence decision-makers to act openly and responsibly. The overlap between ‘civil society’ and NGOs, or ‘the NGO sector’ has transformed the definition of civil society. Civil society was originally understood as the various forms of social organisation in which people try to solve problems. Civil society could be informal, public events, or associations. Today, international intervention has now recreated ‘civil society’ as a bureaucratic funding category.

Project society is about traffic in money, knowledge, people, and ideas. Project life is about what people do with these resources. It is a world with a premium on the most abstract of knowledge. Hence, those who manipulate symbols and concepts can occupy strategic positions in the chain of resource allocations; they become as important as those donors and programs which actually help people with concrete problems. If businessmen and Mafiosi manipulate money, project managers manipulate money attached to concepts, with the key term being ‘increasing capacity’. Since ‘capacity’ is never absolute, it can continually be built. And building capacity requires training. Trainers used to be brought in from the West. Now they may be from other Balkan countries or locals, all of them trained in the West, according to Western measures of needs. One of the most important needs, of course, are ‘training needs’; hence the emerging ‘training needs assessment’ (TNA) industry.

It is this world of projects which ‘the internationals’ bring with them into the Balkans, and it is the ideas and practices of this world which permeate down to a specific group of local field officers, project managers and staff, i.e., known as the ‘local partners’ or ‘counterpart organisations’. These hundreds of local project staff are scattered throughout Southeast Europe. They are certainly an elite. They are in frequent contact with each other via conferences and donor meetings. It would be premature to call them a class, however. Some of them, with more stable incomes and good foreign connections, clearly live differently and think differently from their fellow citizens. Many were activists in another era, before national conflicts or the post-socialist transition. Others have been fortunate enough to work as translators and then acquired organizational skills on the job and via innumerable training courses. The local staff have their own private projects of career, family or emigration. Having such private projects entails keeping as many options open as possible. Being Western-oriented or educated, many of them have dual passports or permanent residency privileges in the West, and virtually all their children are studying or will study in the West. As a strata with a specific lifestyle, they distinguish themselves by an attentiveness to what is new in the West, by their relations with actual and potential foreign donors, by intense relations (cordial or hostile) to specific foreign individuals whom they regard with adjectives such as ‘good friends’ or ‘not transparent with us’, and by an insecurity about what will happen when the project funds cease and the donors leave.

Most local staff are working on projects of one or two years duration, having jumped from one project to another, from foreign aid programs to local NGOs, for career, salary or personal reasons. Unlike NGO staff in the West, however, the Balkan NGO elites have little aspiration to obtain employment in the state or private sector. Those who work for the state in the Balkans are generally low paid and suffer from low status; their career tracks are a function of which political party is in power. As for the private market, demand for their knowledge management, training and consulting skills, the kind of skills NGOs specialize in, is very limited, though Romania and Bulgaria are exceptions. The problem for these local project elites remains their uncertainty about the donors’ future plans and strategies. Obtaining knowledge about donor programs is not easy. Even the resident foreign program director may be uncertain of what their donors back home are planning, and they may be unable or unwilling to communicate this uncertain information to the local staff. Drastic cuts can come in the space of a few months, sometimes entailing the replacement of internationals by local staff, and on other occasions by the closing down of entire departments. At the OSCE missions in Bosnia and Kosovo, for example, the foreign program officers for the democratisation program have gradually been replaced by Bosnian and Kosovar citizens, called ‘national democratisation officers’. Changing the staff, however, usually comes with a reduction in the budget for activities and resources. It is as if the priority of a project or program is measured by the number of international staff rather than by its importance in building democracy or civil society. Project life is thus a world of intense, short term activities, one replacing each other and under the influence of foreign donors.

This world of projects, project resources, project hierarchies, project ideologies, discourses and practices has been exported to the Balkans. Like any such world, it operates with premises and assumptions that provide benefits to some and disenfranchise others. The world of democracy assistance projects is based on several underlying premises, the most basic of which is that practices of democracy and models of civil society can be exported from one society to another. Second, this world operates with the assumption that the models of civil society which we export are based on the realities of our own societies. The problem for civil society development, however, is that those who formulate the projects, those who are charged with implementing them and those who are the actual targets of projects may swallowed our model in an unreflective way. This unreflective practice is hardly surprising, since posing questions about the model may result in donors taking their money elsewhere.

The world of democracy assistance, as it attempts to build civil society, operates with other premises as well: there is the illusion of the ‘international community’, which is neither international nor communal; the illusion that Western NGOs and international organizations cooperate effortlessly with each other and with their home governments; the illusion that professional Western NGOs are based on voluntary commitment rather than paid staff, a premise which leads to the view that Balkan NGOs’ requests for paid staff are somehow selfish; the illusion that the activities of Western NGOs are based on the formulation of long term strategies rather than the improvisation of following the money when new funding categories appear; the illusion that the right technique can somehow replace the required social self-initiative which lies at the heart of civic movements; the illusion that because people are consistently busy that they must also be efficient, conveniently overlooking the proliferation of wasted trips, delayed decisions, unread reports, and useless meetings common to virtually any large organization; the illusion that the only capacities that need building are those ‘down there’, and not our own; and the illusion that organizations ‘down there’ are chaotic rather than adaptations to changing uncertainties (how many Western organisations –of any kind -- could survive very long on unclear laws, two or three accounting systems, political harassment, electric blackouts, computer viruses, distrustful citizens, unscrupulous journalists looking for scandals, and poorly translated jargonistic project proposals); finally, there is the illusion that the number of foreign funded NGO organizations is some kind of index of democracy, and that the more NGOs there are means that there is more democracy.

THE DEMOCRATIC ACHIEVEMENT?

After many years and millions of dollars, after countless appraisal missions and evaluation reports, the Balkans has hundreds of NGOs. But how much civil society is there? The impact of the various programs may be expressed in may ways: the number of projects conducted, amount of money spent, number of seminars held, or number of training hours recorded. However, the measure of democracy can also be seen in more qualitative measures: the kinds of election campaigns conducted, the level of tolerance for different opinions, the ability of organisations to influence policy and of policymakers to actually listen, the faith that people have that collective actions are better at obtaining better quality of life than the private, informal solutions. We might call this indices of trust: trust between people, between groups, between people and institutions, between citizens and the state. If we use these kinds of qualitative measures, the democratic achievement in the Balkans remains open to question, and certainly out of proportion to the money spent.

Now it would be easy to blame this situation on naive Westerners who were too quick to apply their own models. Without doubt, the caricature of late night Balkan jokes is true, as the story about the Western aid consultant who, hearing that ‘funds should be given to Banja Luka’, insisted on meeting her, little knowing that Banja Luka is a town in eastern Bosnia. . Yet the explanation for the questionable democracy in the Balkans is more complicated than Westerners’ ignorance, naiveté or ill will. If Western program officers and specialists are ill-informed, for example, or even prejudiced, it should be noted that they also obtain their information about the Balkans from local advisors, intellectuals, project staff, and civil society activists. Though the world of projects came to the Balkans with its own ideas, many of them unrealistic, the local Balkan civil society wannabes were often all too unreflective in confirming Western stereotypes. In the last instance, the Western world was a source of resources. The worst cases of abuse arose in those cases where the donor representative was naïve and the local counterpart ruthlessly entrepreneurial. Fortunately, this combination is now increasingly rare.

Viewing democracy assistance in terms of projects forces us to conclude that the greatest accomplishment of democracy assistance in the Balkans is not so much the export of democracy, but of project thinking. It is the export of project culture, understood here as a set of understandings, practices, and social hierarchies specific to a new way of thinking. Project thinking could apply to civil society projects, but could also apply to other kinds of activity. It is Western rationalism, abstract categories, bureaucratic connections, all of which is inserted into a Balkan context.

Have we created a monster? Is democracy assistance to be reduced to capacity building programs, project appraisals, ‘training needs assessments’ and courses in ‘project cycle management’? Not quite. Because in the Balkans, as everywhere else, people also have their private projects, and they manipulate the resources in the project society to pursue their private strategies. When there is a conflict between these types of private projects, we get corruption or nepotism: private goals exploit public goods. But often there is an overlap: NGO activists can pursue civil society development and also their own careers. This is in fact the secret of successful civil society development in the West, it is the way in which the ambitious careers combine with a desire to help others. Fulfilling aspirations, realizing one’s ambitions, is also a part of democracy. Perhaps in our understanding of democracy assistance, we need a place for personal motives and strategies. We need to find ways in which these personal projects can be realized within institutions.

Perhaps we can begin to look for these modalities by understanding the nature of project society. Project society is a unique way in which resources, interests, and ideologies are channelled. Democracy assistance may not necessarily produce democracy. But we in the West should congratulate ourselves: because we have been eminently successful in the export of project thinking. Indeed, things are not what they seem.

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