This blog post was originally going to be about social license for nature-based coastal adaptation. However, recent events have led me to reflect on the term social license, and I’d like to discuss some thoughts with you here first. We’ll reflect on and question the use of the term ‘social license’ this month, then jump back into its applications for nature-based coastal adaptation next month.
I recently attended an academic conference for people studying and working in social-environmental contexts. At the conference, I presented results from a scoping review (a broad review of literature in an emerging field — more details about scoping review methods here) that investigated how the concept of social license has been used in marine and coastal planning literature. If you remember from last month’s blog post (available here), social license refers to the informal contract that organizations must have with communities to enact plans or projects that impact those communities. Someone who attended my presentation later told one of my colleagues that he and I were discussing the same ideas, but that he didn’t agree with the label ‘social license.’ His argument was that social license is too engrained in peoples’ brains as transactional, i.e. a proponent (usually a company or governing body) earns the trust of a community of people in order to make decisions that ultimately manipulate that community and minimizes their autonomy and self-control.
Having heard his perspective, I want to address his concerns, as well as a few other common critiques of social license.
Critique 1: Social license is a term created by industries for industrial and corporate interests, not for impacted people.
Consider this: In her 2014 paper, Juliette Syn argues that communities can withdraw social license, asserting their power in the face of projects or plans that do not benefit them, or that harm them and the places they are connected to. By creating a term to define communities’ ability to assert their rights and preferences, corporate entities acknowledge that power and are forced to account for communities’ rights and protection, in addition to legal or regulatory frameworks and processes to obtain consent. Impacted communities can (and in many cases are) reclaiming the term social license, advancing its applications as an empowerment tool for impacted people groups.
Critique 2: Social license is a term used to imply communities have a say but then really used to manipulate them into doing what a proponent wants.
Consider this: Corporations and industries often describe social license as voluntary, meaning that it is not a formal part of legal requirements for a project. I would argue that this is an advantage of social license that can be used to avoid manipulation. If a renewable energy company wants to install a new windfarm and all they legally need to do is provide opportunities for public input, who is to say that input is actually taken into consideration? They could check a box on their application saying they received public comments and move on. With social license, proponents can’t check off a box saying they’ve gained social license and steamroll ahead with a project. They must continue working to gain and maintain social license throughout planning, implementation, and monitoring.
Critique 3: Social license is too vague, without a commonly accepted and used definition.
Consider this: With vague definitions comes the risk that social license will lose its value as a tool. However, specificity can be a limitation, as it comes with narrow meanings and may restrict future applications of social license as a concept. I like Kelly and others’ perspective that ambiguity is a means to opportunistically and contextually apply social license in ways that best serve the interests of all involved in coastal and marine decision making.
The discussion in this post is just that, a discussion. I’m not arguing for the use of ‘social license’ or against it. As someone constantly striving for scientific integrity, I struggle with the idea that we may not have a perfect word or phrase to capture every occurrence. In her 2002 novel, Chilean author Isabel Allendale writes, “words are not that important when you recognize intentions.” Perhaps when it comes to social license, or any other concept representing similar ideas, we should start by focusing on intentions, trusting that regardless of the term we are using, communities’ power and autonomy over decisions that impact them are our priority.
