Do’s and don’ts of NGO practice

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Previous research

This segment of previous research will present relevant aspects and examples of disaster capitalism. It will also cover the evolution NGO:s, including background, practice, Pyles’ framework of decolonising disaster social work, and contemporary trends.

Disaster Capitalism

The concept of disaster capitalism was coined by Naomi Klein in 2005 and evolved in her book The Shock Doctrine (2007). She describes in detail, with research and case studies, how post-disaster settings have paved the way for neoliberal agendas which brought privatisations, market deregulations and the deconstruction of social services. The notion of disaster capitalism has received both plaudits and critique in mainstream media and has gained traction in the academic world as well. Although originating from a book which is not purely scientific, the concept has evolved into a term which has established itself in academia, not least in disaster research.
One of Klein’s examples comes from Sri Lanka, where the 2004 tsunami literally swept away existing resistance against privatisations, the increased price of services and rapid expansions of the tourism industry. While the nation was reeling from the aftermath of the tsunami, a task force to rebuild the nation was put in place. However, this group was composed of the country’s wealthiest corporate leaders, not the elected representatives of the people. This task force was given the mission to work out a new development plan for Sri Lanka, and in 10 days presented a national reconstruction blueprint, full of measures which the population previously had fought against. Klein (2007) refers to this as a kind of corporate-led coup d’état, made possible by a natural disaster in form of the tsunami – and identifies this as disaster capitalism. However, Klein does not offer a concrete definition, and one could argue that the concept is somewhat straggly. Maldonado & Schuller discuss and advance the matter, suggesting their own definition;
National and transnational governmental institutions’ instrumental use of catastrophe (both so-called ‘natural’ and human-mediated disasters, including post-conflict situations) to promote and empower a range of private, neoliberal capitalist interests. (Maldonado & Schuller, 2016, p. 62)
Klein (2007), Maldonado & Schuller (2016), Pyles (2017), Loewenstein (2018), Swamy (2017) Tierney (2015) and Yee (2018) all exemplify cases where disaster capitalism has been in action, but their tendency to use the term varies. The fact that most of these articles are published in recent years points out that the subject is still somewhat new and unexplored.

Dimensions of disaster capitalism

Whereas Klein has a rather broad usage of the term, Maldonado & Schuller (2016) identify two main components within the concept. Profiteering among actors in the humanitarian sector, referred to as non-profiteering, is the more observed one, focusing on the increasing number of contracts given to third party actors such as non-profit organisations and especially a rising number of for-profit corporations in post-disaster reconstruction. This is, according to the authors, justified by a systematic undermining of the capacity of the state in the name of neoliberalism. This creates an environment for long-term liberalisation and policy reform, which is seen as the second component. Furthermore, they characterise disaster capitalism by the importance disasters have to advance political, ideological and economic interests of transnational capitalist elite groups. Loewenstein (2018) claims that corporations feed off weakened governments, who in turn increasingly rely on the private sector to provide public services. He also highlights that companies are allowed to grow unhindered due to the self-interest of politicians. Another aspect of disaster capitalism is identified by Otieno (2018), stating that the phenomenon is not only a question of prioritising profit ahead of humanitarian issues, but acts as a hindrance to local participation and holding the state responsible for not fulfilling its duties towards its citizens.
Indeed, disaster capitalism manifests itself in various ways. In the wake of the earthquake that hit Haiti in 2010, the World Bank, certain nation states and other large-scale actors envisioned the recovery process as an opportunity for macroeconomic development for the country. This was however in contrast to the people who largely just wanted to restore their livelihoods and well-being (Pyles, 2017). This represents disaster capitalism from a macro perspective. The aforementioned example from Sri Lanka provides a case of regional level disaster capitalism, where the government itself is the main driver of it (Klein, 2007). The same can be said about the case of the Nagapattinam district in India, where a long-term conflict between local fishermen and the state regarding the use of land came to an abrupt end due to the 2004 tsunami, resulting in displacement of the fishermen. NGO:s were tasked with building new housing for victims, but the government made sure to negotiate the terms so the new housing facilities were to be built further inland, and in order to access the new housing one had to formally abandon one’s rights to the coastal land. The government then used the now vacant coastal land to introduce economic development projects such as shrimp farms, ports and industries. (Swamy, 2017)
The post-hurricane Katrina disaster relief showed local examples of disaster capitalism as the private sector and political elites used the devastation to make a profit by privatising public services. For example, before Katrina, the school board in New Orleans had run 123 public schools, and after it ran only four (Klein, 2007). Additionally, the post-disaster work was outsourced to private corporations at the expense of those who urgently needed help. Tierney (2015) exemplifies how, rather than simply receiving the help they needed, people were forced to demonstrate that they were in fact qualified to receive assistance. The ‘Road Home Programme’ even had people photographed and fingerprinted in order to avert fraud, showing how private corporations tended to view people as clients rather than victims of a disaster. (Day, 2013; Tierney, 2015)
Moreover, in post-hurricane Katrina, Walmart dispatched thousands of trucks to disaster-struck areas containing free merchandise and meals. The sight of so many company trucks helping disaster victims was public relations gold for the company. Maldonado & Schuller (2016), refers to this as corporate charity in the form of disaster capitalism.
Finally, Yee (2018) shows in her case study from the Philippines how disaster capitalism potentially can lead to physical violence. In 2014, in the wake of typhoon Haiyan, the government imposed so-called ‘no-dwelling zones’ near beaches and chose to implement infrastructure projects where communities previously had lived. However, commercial interests such as hotels were exempt, warranting comparisons to measures imposed in certain countries post-tsunami 2004. When these decisions were met with increasingly stubborn resistance from civil society, the government branded these groups affiliates of the communist party, inviting state repression against activists. At least 13 people were killed and many more were harassed by the military. As summarised by the author:
The militarized response to the political actions of People Surge (civil society organisation) demonstrates the role of violence in supporting the implementation of disaster capitalism
(…) As disaster survivors assert their collective rights to state protection and protest the encroachment of disaster capitalism, they are met with repressive force and stealthy surveillance. The spaces of civic resistance are constricted, thereby denying the meaningful participation of grassroots communities in influencing the direction of the disaster reconstruction process. (Yee, 2018, p. 8)
There is however critique towards the phenomenon of disaster capitalism. Wisner (2009) sees the term as a “flash in the pan” and points out that for disaster capitalism to be useful as a concept, it has to be able to separate small businesses from large corporations, and one cannot simply take every benefit from a disaster and brand it as disaster capitalism. Moreover, disaster capitalism can be too broad to capture local analyses and one could question if the example of Walmart’s truckloads of aid after Katrina is the same thing as transnational business groups landing big contracts in war-struck zones. (Maldonado & Schuller, 2016; Schuller, 2016)
These examples show the width of disaster capitalism as a concept, even if its initial, intended use seems straight forward. The authors all demonstrate different uses of the concept, resulting in a widening of its use.

The rise of NGO:s

As opposed to disaster capitalism, research on disaster management and the role of NGO:s is well documented. The rise of NGO:s in development and humanitarian work began in the 1980s due to declining financial resources and increased poverty. NGO:s were increasingly seen as a cheaper and more efficient means of development and disaster relief, which governments ‘exploited’ to fill their responsibility gaps. They have since kept growing and have proliferated from about 400 in the 20th century to 25,000 in recent years. (Lassa, 2018) As alluded to in the previous paragraph, NGO:s have been seen as a complement to state responsibilities, whose capacities are often compromised by disasters, leaving vacant spaces into which NGO:s often step. Lassa (2018) argues that NGO:s have an advantage because they usually have better grassroots connections and take an inclusive and consensual approach which allows them to better understand and respond to the needs of vulnerable communities. Moreover, they are also often organisationally smaller which allows them to be more efficient as they operate in a more flexible and less bureaucratic environment.
In the post-2004 tsunami relief work, in the southern Andamans, Blackburn (2018) exemplifies how NGO:s helped locals gain increased knowledge and awareness of their rights, which led them to mobilise and raise a collective voice towards the state. They also empowered locals by implementing activities which increased their self-confidence and assisted them in legal matters. Furthermore, they highlighted government failings and called for proper implementation of the law, through negotiation and political pressure. These examples display how NGO:s can become intermediaries between locals and the state, using their knowledge to empower locals (Blackburn, 2018). However, in certain situations, NGO:s can be reluctant to engage themselves in politics, as upsetting governments might lead to them being harassed. Or in the case of international NGO:s, they might be expelled or banned from conducting work in certain countries (Blackburn, 2018; Pelling & Dill, 2010). This was exemplified during the 1999 post-Marmara earthquake relief work in Turkey, where the disaster exposed weaknesses in the government’s relief response. Fearing a backlash towards their legitimacy, and in an attempt to contain criticism and mobilisation of civil society, the government started smearing NGO:s who had taken over government responsibilities in the disaster area, branding them ‘irresponsible’ and ‘embarrassing to the state’. Moreover, they also began freezing NGO:s bank accounts. These measures were of a political nature, and these actions were implemented to avoid losing political power in the following elections. (Pelling & Dill, 2010)
The findings of Maldonado & Schuller (2016), Loewenstein (2018) and Lassa (2018) points to a decrease of state functions and capacity, in favour of NGO:s.

Do’s and don’ts of NGO practice

While plenty of positive examples of NGO work exists, as previously mentioned, much research tends to focus on the flaws in the NGO and humanitarian sector and tends to problematise their work. Pyles (2017) notes that disaster relief work is embedded in the system of disaster capitalism and argues that principles and practices of contemporary humanitarian relief work risk to maintain, or even enhance hegemonic relationships between locals and external actors. If humanitarian workers do not have sufficient knowledge of the socio-political, environmental and economic factors that affect and contribute to disasters, and if they fail to incorporate the local traditions and cultures, this may create unintended consequences, enhancing colonial hegemonic legacies and leading to sustained vulnerability. These concerns are also voiced by Blackburn (2018), who emphasises that transformation must be approached with caution, and that critical research and reflection of underlying values and priorities must be made by NGO:s to avoid the reproduction of neo-colonial power relations. She also points out, in congruence with Pyles, that NGO:s must start ‘doing with’ instead of ‘doing to’ citizens, and emphasises that humanitarian- and development work must support and be shaped by the worldviews and needs of communities themselves. Pyles (2017) exemplifies this problem in a situation where a group of Western humanitarian workers did not understand the local culture in Indonesia during the 2004 post-tsunami relief work. Their practices included singing and dancing to non-traditional music, which was unfamiliar to the locals. Instead, similar measures should centre around local traditions and customs. (Pyles, 2017)
At times, humanitarian aid can have unintended consequences for the local economy. Humanitarian workers affect the local system with their own needs of food, housing and water, which in competition with local needs might lead to the driving up of prices. Furthermore, an influx of food assistance might disrupt local markets, affecting farmers and vendors. Not using local products and personnel can have a negative impact on the local economy. (Pyles, 2017)
Loewenstein (2018) notes that citizens in the developing world are mostly framed in the West as ‘demons or victims’. Additionally, Pyles (2017) states that humanitarian work has tended to portray the receivers of aid as an outgroup, as media focuses on humanitarian workers as heroes, echoing the image of aid receivers as the white man’s burden. However, while many NGO:s have embraced the rhetoric of ownership and local participation, it is often hard to reach the point of true participation when people are in the middle of a disaster. True participation demands that Western humanitarian workers adopt cultural skills and learn to adapt to a collectivistic context. After the genocide in Rwanda, humanitarian workers were rejected after their grief management practices proved too foreign for locals. The practices did not involve existing cultural manifestations for handling grief, as being out in the sun, singing and drumming. Instead, they were put in rooms to talk with psychologists about the horrific things that had happened (Pyles, 2017).
In a neoliberal context where corporations and profiteers seek to exploit the business opportunities that disasters offer, local needs tend to be taken less into account and non-profiteering has also been identified. Further manifestations of non-profiteering revolves around how, firstly, NGO:s might see disasters almost as ‘business opportunities’, taking the chance to improve their brand, doing it for the sake of the organisation rather than for the victims. Second, such organisations often only provide supplies which the NGO already possesses, or those which donors have to offer, ignoring the specific needs of the local community and thereby taking a supply-driven approach instead of a needs-driven one. Moreover, NGO:s can have the tendency to favour accountability to their donors rather than to locals, and some faith-based groups approach disaster management with certain religious agendas, such as actively trying to convert disaster victims to their religion. Being bound to donors or values which are culturally insensitive can be problematic for NGO:s in the relief and development sector. (Pyles, 2017) Often, donors expect NGO:s work to be linear, with clear cause and effect results. However, this is rarely the case, as there are a multitude of factors which interplay in humanitarian and development settings, making pre-planned, pre-budgeted agendas within a certain timeframe highly problematic. This causes NGO:s to operate at levels below their capacity, as they are forced to adapt their work to donor requirements to receive funding (Blackburn, 2018). This is exemplified by Swamy’s (2017) article mentioned earlier, where NGO:s accountability towards the state and donors was prioritised over the needs of the local population in order to meet deadlines and deliver results.
Similar concerns are also brought to light by Audet (2015), when he discusses the attempts of linking humanitarian- and development work. While many wish to see a more sustainable, long-term approach to disaster management, institutional barriers hinder this as many donors are reluctant to fund programs which fall outside the usual sphere of humanitarian- or development work. This barrier leads many organisations to frame their operations and organisational structures after strict donor requirements, in order to increase their chances of access to the limited pool of funding. Even where organisations have tried going beyond their roles, he notes that structural barriers such as institutional cultures, values and bureaucracies have tended to limit their success. (Audet, 2015)
Finally, the increasing role of NGO:s in post-disaster settings raises the question of how their activities affect the withdrawal of the state from its social responsibilities, and the weakening of politics from below, as rights and entitlements are converted into gifts from NGO:s (Swamy, 2017).

Pyles’ decolonising disaster social work framework

Pyles emphasises that the role which humanitarian workers can play in order to alter their practice and move towards a transformative disaster recovery is largely unexplored, and thereby presents her framework decolonising disaster social work (Pyles, 2017). This framework can be used as a countermeasure to disaster capitalism as it serves to deconstruct practices which potentially work in favour of disaster capitalism. It emphasises local participation and respect for local cultures, as well as a critical stance on predatory actions such as disaster capitalism. In this study, Pyles’ framework will be used as a point of comparison when analysing the strategies of Swedish NGO:s in disaster response in relation to disaster capitalism.
The increased risk of disasters, a bi product of the climate change brought on by lifestyles promoted by an economic model focused on unlimited growth, has increased the demand for humanitarian efforts around the world. Since disasters offer the possibility to build back better, to use the reconstruction phase to increase resilience, those working within the disaster frame have to create conditions and help promote community resilience and social transformation (Pyles, 2017). This is however a double-edged sword, as one could argue that humanitarian organisations branding post-disaster reconstruction as a way of ‘building back better’ also justifies their own expansion into the role of social development, which could further reduce the role and accountability of the government (Pelling & Dill, 2010).
Decolonising disaster social work aims to change the discourse by emphasising the strengths of local and indigenous populations and cultures and works against othering of these groups. It undertakes the strategy of constantly evaluating economic and environmental values and methods that repeat themselves in disaster settings. It is crucial that humanitarian workers have the ability to oppose practices and policies that work in favour for disaster capitalism, profiteering and other phenomena which occur at the expense of people and environment. Relief workers should be asking themselves whose vision they work for and who benefits from it. (Pyles, 2017)
Pyles (2017) offers three key recommendations in her framework which humanitarian workers should take into account.
1. Take a critical and holistic approach to the intersections between capitalism, environmental destruction and disasters
These measures require social workers to critically deconstruct media and policy discourses. She also recommends social workers to engage themselves emotionally, bodily and spiritually, in order to bolster resilience so partnerships can flourish.
Social workers can also assist disaster survivors to build on or create new livelihoods which are restorative and sustainable for the environment. All while having pre-disaster vulnerability, risk reduction and disaster preparedness integrated in the processes. Finally, social workers should act in solidarity with vulnerable disaster-stricken communities, speaking out against, and resisting disaster capitalism and predatory actions.
2. Do not replicate the past: disentangle post-colonialist humanitarian practices
Aid and social workers do not arrive in a vacuum; therefore, they must learn about the local context and the historical social production of policies, discourses and practices. And if deemed appropriate, possible and necessary, strive to undo them. Moreover, they should research historical legacies to gain more understanding of local culture, religion, politics and economics. Acknowledging hegemonies and instances of ill-implemented humanitarianism in the past can be a way of building trust with local partners.
Pyles also recommends, first of all, for aid and social workers not to bring excessive attention to themselves by e.g. wearing matching t-shirts to strengthen their own group identity, or to act as ‘heroic saviours’. Secondly, social workers who ground their work in social justice values should educate and counteract the aforementioned scenarios by educating less-aware workers about hegemonies, potential colonial histories and previous instances of ill-implemented humanitarian aid.
3. Localise responses and centre community needs
The very first step in any engagement in a post-disaster situation should be a participatory needs assessment in cooperation with local communities. When pre-existing partnerships do not exist, it is important to work within existing community structures, such as community associations and religious congregations. Understanding the local context, politics and other dynamics which marginalise certain groups from participation is crucial. It is also important to remember that lessons and technologies gained from previous disasters might not be applicable in another, as every situation is unique and localised.
Finally, Pyles notes that it is important to remember the individualistic-collectivistic aspect of cultures. Aid and social workers should bear in mind that the way which people create meaning, such as art, community and religious rituals and group prayer may differ depending on culture and making culturally appropriate interventions is key to bolster both individual and community resilience.

Resilience and its critics

Critique of the neoliberal economic model recurs throughout disaster capitalism research and on the role of NGO:s in disaster settings. Equally recurring in the disaster discourse is the term resilience, which has become prominent in disaster research of late. Resilience generally means to withstand broad disruptions without long-lasting damage or change to people and society, and the ability to swiftly bounce back from such disturbances. It has become the focal point and framework of disaster management policies around the world during the last decade. It was originally developed in other fields who had their own definitions for the term, corresponding to their respective branch. (Breen & Anderies, 2011)
When talking about resilience towards disasters, the term community resilience is often used. The definition of this differs from organisation to organisation, and there is no consensus in scientific literature or policies. There are however nine consistent themes and elements that recur in the disaster relief sector, being local knowledge, governance and leadership, resources, economic investment, preparedness, community networks and relationships, health, mental outlook and communication. (Patel, Rogers, Amlot & Rubin, 2017)
Tierney (2015) problematises the usage of the resilience concept and questions the background of its recent surge. Resilience is used in several disciplines, such as psychology, ecology and now disaster research, where its popularity is growing in both policy and practice. Tierney argues that it has become so common that there is no clear definition or interpretation of the term, making it a boundary object which facilitates cooperation between actors from different sectors of society with diverging interests. She claims we need resilience because we live in a world with constant disruptions, created by urbanisation, leading to vulnerability, potential disease outbreaks, environmental degradation and other crises. Climate change creates social and economic anxiety, to which resilience is the answer. Globalisation and the world we have created with rapid change, complex chains of livelihoods, migration and global trade makes these disruptions stronger as people, states and economies are under constant pressure. Those most vulnerable are increasingly urged to adapt and become resilient towards those consequences which are a direct result of historical and contemporary forces of neoliberalism. Calling for people to become resilient means calling for people to accept and be part of the current system.
This way, Tierney (2015) argues that resilience itself is driving the neoliberal agenda and preserves the status quo. Individuals are urged to become entrepreneurs and make themselves adaptable and resilient actors, instead of resisting and demanding an end to their suffering through political action. Urging people to turn risks into opportunities is the same as saying that nothing can be done to change the risk environment and that adaptation of each individual is better than a collective resistance. Tierney mentions that other critics similarly claim that resilience is highly compatible with the dominating neoliberal discourse and the ideological frames that comes with it. (Tierney, 2015)
Blackburn (2018) somewhat echoes the critique towards the resilience discourse, drawing attention to the fact that not enough critical reflection has been made on inequalities, bad governance and gaps in provision which leads to increased disaster risk in the first place.
The neoliberal strategy of privatising public services and diminishing the role of the state means that NGO:s become progressively influential in planning, producing and carrying out programmes for disaster mitigation, response and relief (Pelling & Dill, 2010). Practical responses to increase disaster-resilience are increasingly shaped by neoliberal views of governance, such as the idea that all levels and sectors of society, including private actors, should be engaged, resulting in a reduction of state accountability and promotion of public-private partnerships (Lassa, 2018; Tierney, 2015). The case of hurricane Katrina that was mentioned earlier is an example of how neoliberal disaster response is carried out. The federal agencies even had to hire a contractor to assign contracts to other contractors. This highly privatised way of managing disaster opens the door to mismanagement, profiteering, corruption and reduction of transparency. A concrete example of this is, again, the consulting firm in charge of the ‘Road Home Programme’, accountable to their source of income and not to the public. Five years after Katrina struck New Orleans, only 55% of the more than 200.000 applicants had received assistance. (Tierney, 2015)

CHS, the Sphere Project and the surrounding debate

Another important aspect when examining NGO practice is international documents such as the Sphere Handbook and the Core Humanitarian Standards, commonly referred to as the CHS. These documents to a large extent govern how many NGO:s work and are imperative features of strategies, design and implementation. Many of the recommendations presented in the CHS are in line with the recommendations presented in Pyles’ framework. The Sphere Project was inaugurated in 1997 with the goal of developing a number of agreed minimum standards for humanitarian work. Behind the project was a group of NGO:s and the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), seeking consensus and collectively crafting The Sphere Handbook, with the aim of increasing the quality of worldwide humanitarian response and enhancing the accountability of humanitarian inputs to affected people in crisis situations. The Sphere Standards, included in the Handbook, are generally regarded as the most well-known and frequently adopted standards in humanitarian practice. The Sphere Handbook is the flagship of the Sphere Project and consists of the Sphere Humanitarian Charter and Minimum Standards in Humanitarian Response. It has been published in four editions, the latest one released in November 2018. (Hooper & Pym, 2017; Sphere Association, 2018)
The Core Humanitarian Standard on Quality and Accountability was developed conjointly in 2014 by the Sphere Project, People in Aid and HAP International who had identified a need for a more coherent set of standards. They united under the Joint Standards Initiative with the goal of facilitating an easier implementation of standards for aid workers. The CHS consists of nine commitments focusing on various aspects of humanitarian assistance. Initially, Sphere had their own standards, but these were replaced by the CHS after its establishment. Today the CHS is incorporated as one of the foundations of the Sphere Handbook. (Core Humanitarian Standards, n.d; Sphere Association, n.d.)
While these standardised guidelines are accepted and used by many organisations, there are also those who debate and criticise them. Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF), or Doctors Without Borders is such an organisation. The organisation was initially involved in the initiative to develop the Sphere standards but later withdrew, claiming that “Humanitarian action is too complex to be reduced to a technical performance” (Vila-Sanjuan, 2003, p. 2). Vila-Sanjuan, who at the time was the secretary general of MSF, implies that using technical standards as sole definers of humanitarian action risks to transform it into a standardised system, instead of an accompanying document, which disrespects the fact that each situation is unique. Moreover, he highlights how such standards risk to reduce the scope of humanitarian work down to assistance and technical actions, which they claim disregards issues of protection, politics and respecting principles. This would lead to losing sight of the holistic of humanitarianism, making it devoid of its ethos and risk reducing it into a business to be performed technically, side lining the humanitarian principles (Vila-Sanjuan, 2003).
Another critique is that these standards can become a mode of control over NGO:s, as many donors set these standards as a prerequisite for funding. Finally, technical failures can be used to cancel support for humanitarian action on the wrong grounds, where such failures are a direct result of external or contextual factors (Vila SanJuan, 2003). Griekspoor & Collins (2001) also raise this issue, claiming that the indicators could foster unrealistic expectations while ignoring constraints. In a similar vein, they also emphasise that standardisations apply only to ideal situations and that this will prevent relief workers from adapting in more complex situations, as they exemplify happened in Sudan during the late 90s. They also mention that the standards could be used by politicians to obscure their responsibilities to tackle underlying causes of emergencies. Many of these concerns were reiterated in an article from MSF in 2014, showing that these criticisms were still being levelled (Brauman & Neuman, 2014)
The CHS, adopted after the Sphere Standards, have also been debated. In an article from The Guardian (Purvis, 2015), a representative of MSF claims that the standards are “too simplistic and generic to be really meaningful” and doubts that they’ll have much effect. On the contrary, a representative from the ICRC claims that simplicity is the point of the CHS, and that the idea was to create a simple set of standards that everyone can relate to, or “a low hurdle that every humanitarian organisation should be able to leap over”. (Purvis, 2015)
In light of the presented research, it becomes apparent that the phenomenon of disaster capitalism is not widely enough researched. Therefore, shedding further light on it was deemed a useful addition to the body of research. Furthermore, researching how disaster capitalism is perceived by organisations working in post-disaster settings, and whether their practices aim at mitigating the effects of disaster capitalism, could help to increase our understanding of such behaviours for actors in the humanitarian sector. Finally, discussing the increased privatisation in post-disaster relief with organisations who work in such settings can contribute to a greater understanding of what this trend means, or might potentially mean, for the humanitarian sector.

Table of contents
1. Introduction
2. Purpose and research questions
3. Theoretical concepts
3.1 Definition of concepts and terms
4. Previous research
4.1 Disaster Capitalism
4.2 Dimensions of disaster capitalism
4.3 The rise of NGO:s
4.4 Do’s and don’ts of NGO practice
4.5 Pyles’ decolonising disaster social work framework
4.6 Resilience and its critics
4.7 CHS, the Sphere Project and the surrounding debate
5. Methodology
5.1 Sample of organisations and respondents
5.2 Recording
5.3 Limitations
5.4 Analysis of data
6. Results and analysis
6.1 Pyles’ first recommendation
6.2 Pyles’ second recommendation
6.3 Pyles’ third recommendation
6.4 The localisation agenda
6.5 Supporting local markets
6.6 CHS and Sphere – not a straightforward axiom
6.7 The role of donors
6.8 Private actors – which rules apply?
6.9 The state from an NGO perspective
6.10 Disaster Capitalism – a furtive process?
6.11 Critique of the humanitarian system – how it is used and what the future might bring
7. Discussion
8. Conclusions
9. References.
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