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Principal Control or Agent Autonomy?

States and the

Delegation of Authority to International Organizations

Andrew P. Cortell

Department of International Affairs

Lewis and Clark College

Portland, OR 97219

and

Susan Peterson

Department of Government

The College of William and Mary

Williamsburg, VA 23187

Paper prepared for presentation at the Annual Meeting of the American Political Science

Association, Boston, MA, August 29-September 1, 2002.



Principal Control or Agent Autonomy?

States and the Delegation of Authority to International Organizations

When are international organizations (IOs) autonomous agents and when are they controlled by

the states that created them? We develop a historical institutionalist explanation of the state-IO

relationship that cuts across the usual divide between rationalist and sociological perspectives to

explore how institutions at the national and supranational levels influence states’ and IOs’

relative capabilities. Whether IOs become autonomous entities or member states are able to

control them depends upon variations in three institutional factors: whether an IO’s mission

reflects norms salient in members’ national arenas; decision-making and voting rules that

structure the relationship among member states, and between them and the IO; and the

organizational capacity of the IO. We apply the argument to three IOs not featured in existing

work on state delegation: the World Trade Organization, the World Health Organization, and the

North Atlantic Treaty Organization.



What role do international organizations (IOs) play in international relations? Generally,

international relations (IR) theory conceptualizes their capacity in two broad ways. For realists,

IOs reflect the underlying balance of power in the international system and have little or no

independent impact (Grieco 1996; Mearsheimer 1994/95; Waltz 1979). Liberalism contends that

IOs are created to serve certain functions valued by states. Like realists, however, liberals

generally contend that states remain the primary actors in IR, so IOs matter to the extent that they

empower or constrain states (Keohane 1984). Constructivists disagree: Because IOs possess

their own values and behavioral predispositions (Barnett and Finnemore 1999, 709), they should

be able to assume an independent role in world politics. Yet IOs possess differing levels of

autonomy. The North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) largely serves the interests of its

member states, while the European Court of Justice (ECJ) has significant powers to transform

European national legal systems and the World Bank often engages in lending behavior

undesired by its largest members. The three dominant theoretical perspectives in IR share a

similar shortcoming: Each offers a general explanation of IO behavior, but none identifies the

conditions under which IOs are more or less likely to act independently of their creators.

Recently, a small group of scholars has sought to fill this gap. Their research, focusing

almost exclusively on the European Union (EU) and the World Bank, generally employs

functionalist ideas and principal-agent (P-A) theory (Alter 1998; Nielson and Tierney 2002;

Pollack 1997; Tallberg 2000). An even smaller number of scholars (McNamara 2002;

Schimmelfennig 2001) has embraced constructivist insights to account for the autonomy of EU

institutions and the form of delegation itself. Together, these path-breaking studies suggest

multiple factors, ranging from voting rules to social consensus, that influence IO autonomy. This

research nevertheless suffers from three limitations. First, it conceptualizes IOs as autonomous



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or controlled with no middle ground. The empirical findings indicate, however, that there are

stark differences in the degree of autonomy exercised, for example, by the ECJ and the European

Commission. If we are to understand the roles played by the more than 300 IOs that currently

populate the international system, we need a more nuanced conceptualization of their potential

capacity. Second, existing research generally takes either a rationalist or normative perspective,

without embracing or fully refuting the expectations of the other approach. Finally, others tend

to focus on factors specific to either member state principals or the IO agent. A full

understanding of the potential autonomy of IOs, however, necessitates looking at both sides of

the principal-agent relationship.

We offer a historical institutionalist explanation of the state-IO relationship that cuts

across the usual divides between rationalist and sociological perspectives to explore how

institutions at the supranational and national levels influence states’ and IOs’ relative

capabilities.1 Whether IOs become autonomous entities or member states are able to control

them depends upon three institutional factors: whether an IO’s mission reflects norms salient in

members’ national arenas; decision-making and voting rules that structure the relationship among

member states, and between them and the IO; and the organizational capacity of the IO. We

apply this explanation to IOs that have not featured in existing work on state delegation: the

World Trade Organization (WTO), the World Health Organization (WHO), and NATO. These

organizations operate in several issue areas and are well institutionalized and funded.

Institutional traits suggest that these IOs could have an independent identity and impact, but the

importance of the issues suggests that member states are likely to want to control the IOs’

actions. The IOs’ roles and autonomy, in short, are not preordained.



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The paper is divided into four parts. Part one delineates the dependent variable, the

extent to which member states control IO behavior. Part two first reviews existing literature that

explores the consequences of delegation and develops an integrated approach to understand the

conditions affecting IO autonomy. Part three applies the argument to three case studies. The

conclusion identifies the paper’s central empirical findings and theoretical implications.

I: The Dependent Variable

Delegating authority to agents, including IOs, may generate side effects, usually referred

to as agency losses. We measure the dependent variable–the degree of IO independence–to

encompass but move beyond the two primary forms of agency loss identified by the P-A

literature, slippage and shirking (see Lupia and McCubbins 2000).2 Agents may shirk or slip the

wishes of their principals, but whether they can sustain their behavior in the face of the

principals’ objection is a crucial, but under-explored question. Similarly, the P-A literature

sometimes defines agent autonomy to include agent actions that reflect the preferences of a

subset of the collective principal (Pollack 1997), thereby equating capture with autonomy. These

outcomes represent differing degrees of agent independence. An IO can behave in any or all of

four ways relative to the principals’ preferences, each of which represents a differing degree of

member state control or IO independence.3

1. Member state control: The IO’s behavior is consistent with member states’

preferences. This outcome captures the situation in which the IO’s actions reflect

member states’ objectives in creating it; there is no conflict of interest, since the IO is

operating in the manner envisioned by member states. In theory, such successful



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delegation can take two forms. On the one hand, IO behavior may conform to states’

preferences because the agent’s preferences approximate those of the principals. On the

other hand, the IO’s behavior may conform to, while its preferences diverge from,

member states’ preferences. In the latter instance, the agent’s actions nonetheless may

conform to the principals’ wishes in anticipation of sanctions for nonconforming

behavior. In either case, IO behavior conforms to member states’ predilections.

2. Agency accountability: The IO’s behavior is inconsistent with member states’

preferences, but member states can reverse the action. This outcome suggests member

state control, but influence comes at the cost of using some type of leverage to reverse an

unwanted action or non-action. A conflict of interests emerges between the member

states and the IO, in short, and the member states possess the ability to modify the IO’s

behavior.

3. Agency capture/ Agency discretion: The IO takes some action or non-action at the

expense of one or more member states’ preferences but consistent with the preferences of

one or more other states. In this case, IO behavior may (discretion) or may not (capture)

reflect the agent’s preferences. In either case, those members whose preferences are

contravened are unable to reverse the IO’s action.

4. Agency autonomy: The IO pursues an action or non-action that reflects its

understanding of the issue, and this understanding conflicts with that of the member

states. The principals may attempt, but fail, to change the outcome; or they may not try,

realizing that the costs of doing so are greater than the benefits. In both cases,

nevertheless, the outcome reflects the IO’s–not the member states’–preferences.4



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Measuring the dependent variable in this way offers several advantages over previous

conceptualizations. First, it recognizes that the IO includes multiple principals. Many studies of

delegation dynamics assume a unified principal and therefore mischaracterize delegation

outcomes (Kiewert and McCubbins 1991, 26-27; Nielson and Tierney 2002). Second, this

conceptualization addresses a concern raised by several scholars (Pierson 1996; Tallberg 2000;

Worsham, Eisner, and Ringquist 1997) that the P-A literature tends to define successful

delegation in a single-shot manner, rather than as an on-going process. On the one hand, IO

autonomy exists only if the member states cannot–at some later point–reverse the actions of the

IO. On the other hand, member state control implies an on-going dynamic, since it too could be

circumvented over time. The literature usually treats principals’ preferences as static over time,

and therefore may see agency losses when they do not exist (Lyne and Tierney 2002). Third, the

measures help to capture whether intended or unintended consequences emerge from the act of

delegation, that is whether the IO achieves interests defined by states or by the IO.

To gauge correctly which type of IO action arises necessitates knowledge of member

states’ preferences. We employ two methods to identify those preferences. First, the IO’s charter

serves as an approximation of the members’ intentions regarding their desired activities for a

specific IO (Barnett and Finnemore 1999). Members’ preferences are unlikely to remain constant

over time, however. When their preferences change, states often reform the original charter to

reflect their new preferences. A second way to capture member states’ preferences is the

declarations of national officials regarding their expectations of the IO; such pronouncements

often coincide with the ratification of a new or revised charter. These declarations are especially

useful in signaling shifts in member preferences over time, particularly when charter revision is



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difficult or undesired. Observing officials’ statements of preferences across member states may

be problematic, however, when the IO has a large membership. In such cases, we narrow our

focus to the major member states of that IO, the state or states that play a preeminent role in the

relevant issue area by virtue of their financial or similar contribution to or voting rights in the IO

or their prestige in the policy area.

II. Explaining IO Autonomy

At least four theoretical explanations–P-A or agency theory, neofunctionalism,

constructivism, and historical institutionalism–address the issue of IO autonomy and offer

insights on the conditions under which IOs may escape the control of their member states. The

dominant approach to IO autonomy is agency theory. This perspective conceptualizes the state-

IO relationship as a principal-agent relationship, where the states are the principals and the IO is

the agent. Whether and to what extent the IO can achieve its preferences against the wishes of

the member states depends, according to agency theory, on the control mechanisms that the

principals design to constrain the agent. Kiewiet and McCubbins (1991, 27-34) describe four

institutional mechanisms that can contain agency loss in IOs: the design of the contract between

the principal and the agent, which assigns responsibility, compensation, and positive and

negative sanctions; screening and selection mechanisms that assess the technical expertise and

political bias of potential IO staff; monitoring and reporting requirements that help balance the

information advantage enjoyed by agents; and institutional checks or veto points that impede the

agent’s capacity for independent actions.

These mechanisms mitigate agency losses, but they are not without costs. Foremost



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among these are the principals’ time and energy, which are diverted from other responsibilities.

The IO possesses more and better information than the principal and may have an incentive to

distort or hide information, making many of the control mechanisms expensive. Principals then

face the task of activating only those institutional tools that are effective and that cost less than

the agency losses the principals are likely to suffer without the mechanisms (Kiewiet and

McCubbins 1991, 31-32; Pollack 1997, 109). For this reason, most agency theorists admit that it

is impossible to eliminate all losses. “The question of whether principals control agents is best

replaced by the more useful question of whether there are identifiable factors that enhance the

ability of elected officials to influence the behavior of bureaucrats” (Worsham, Eisner, and

Ringquist 1997, 433).

Agency theory provides a simple and elegant model of IO independence and state

authority. Where effective and cost-efficient means of monitoring and sanctioning runaway or

recalcitrant IOs exist, member states’ preferences are likely to influence IO behavior. At the

same time, many existing applications to IOs suggest agency theory’s limits. Most important,

these studies show that IO autonomy depends largely on the extent of agreement among

principals. If the parts of a collective principal do not speak with a single voice–that is, if there

exists significant preference heterogeneity–the agent can exploit the disagreement and implement

its own preferences (Kiewiet and McCubbins 1991, 26-27; Nielson and Tierney 2002; Pollack

1997).

This problem suggests the importance of at least two institutional structures prior to, and

more fundamental than, the control mechanisms highlighted by agency theory. First, and most

fundamental, the voting rules that establish the relationship among member states in the IO



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influence the IO’s ability to act independently, regardless of the other mechanisms established to

control agency losses. These rules, which are a significant element of the historical

institutionalist explanation developed below, affect whether preference heterogeneity among

principals is consequential for the use of sanctions, since such decision rules structure the

resolution of those differences. Second, as many neofunctionalist approaches contend, the

functions or capabilities delegated to the IO can influence the credibility and effectiveness of

control mechanisms and facilitate the expansion of the IO’s authority into new issue areas (Alter

1998; Burley and Mattli 1993; Tallberg 2000). For example, students of IOs, like those of agents

more generally, note the importance of information in generating autonomy. When an IO is

granted significant information-collection powers, the privately held information–whether

technical, political, or both–can become a significant resource for the agent. In other words, the

IO’s policy instruments help account for IO autonomy.5 This emphasis on IO functions, as well

other resources like legitimacy, helps explain why some IOs are more autonomous than others

(Tallberg 2000), but neofunctionalism ultimately cannot explain variation across IOs without an

analysis of the voting rules that determine states’ ability to rein in renegade agents or the

normative consensus that makes the original delegation of these functions possible.

A third theoretical approach addresses this last point. Constructivism draws on the

insights of sociological institutionalism and offers a potentially powerful, but to date under-

explored approach to the study of delegation. First, unlike agency theory, which focuses largely

on the principals and the constraints they design to avoid agency losses, constructivists

investigate the agents. As Barnett and Finnemore (1999, 705-06) contend, agency theory must

assume that agents’ preferences will diverge from, and even conflict with, those of the principals,



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but constructivists view IOs as “social facts” to be investigated, not assumed. “[W]hether

[organizations] do what they claim or do it efficiently is an empirical question, not a theoretical

assumption of these approaches” (Barnett and Finnemore 1999, 703). Second, and closely

related, constructivism examines the effects of normative institutions, largely ignored by agency

theory, on agents and their preferences. In contextualizing the agent, sociological approaches

examine the influence of shared notions of legitimacy, causal knowledge, and organizational or

bureaucratic culture on the agent’s preferences and autonomy (Barnett and Finnemore 1999;

Weaver and Leiteritz n.d.). This social context empowers IOs; they can appeal to existing norms

and notions of legitimacy to advance their interests vis-à-vis those of their creators, or they can

create and diffuse new normative understandings (Barnett and Finnemore 1999; Schimmelfennig

2001).

Constructivist studies of IOs convincingly argue that these agencies are important and

autonomous actors, but their efforts to bring the agent into the study of delegation have their

costs. By focusing almost exclusively on agent autonomy, constructivists often ignore how the

social context affects principals’ preferences and capacity to limit IO autonomy. This focus leads

current conceptualizations to suggest that all IOs have the capacity for autonomy. These

approaches do not explain why–short of differences in IO preferences–some IOs are more

autonomous than others. Even when they examine the importance of the broader normative

context for agent autonomy, they tend to be interested only in how this context can empower

rather than constrain IOs (Barnett and Finnemore 1999; Schimmelfennig 2001). The failure to

develop fully the normative context of the state-IO relationship is ironic, given constructivism’s

efforts to direct IR theorists’ attention toward the social context of international relations (e.g.



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Wendt 2001).

Historical institutionalists’ accounts of delegation dynamics, which so far have sought to

counter neofunctionalist explanations of EU autonomy, redirect attention toward the principal

(Alter 1998; Pierson 1996). Like historical institutionalists working in comparative politics

(Thelen and Steinmo 1992), they emphasize how decision-making structures shape actors’

capacity to advance their preferences. This perspective directs our attention to the way

institutions, at both the national and supranational levels, influence the consequences of

delegation. Short time frames lead state officials to respond only to those IO actions that affect

their immediate electoral interests; actions left unsanctioned enable the IO to increase its

capabilities. Subsequently, supranational voting rules–in the EU’s case, qualified majority

voting–limit the capacity of future governments credibly to sanction the IO for unwanted actions.

This work demonstrates that IO autonomy is likely to be frequent and difficult to reverse,

but it suffers from several weaknesses. First, it stops well short of a systematic explanation of

the consequences of IO voting rules for delegation outcomes. In this sense, the burgeoning

historical institutionalist literature on IOs reproduces a shortcoming of much of the comparative

politics literature, which also tends to be highly inductive. Second, while recognizing the

importance of voting rules, these works downplay the impact of those institutions that provide

the IO with the capacity to advance independent actions in the first place. This oversight may

reflect the fact that most historical institutionalist work focuses on the EU, an IO presumed to

enjoy significant capacity. Finally, existing work largely neglects normative institutions. This is

unfortunate not simply because the normative dimension fits squarely within historical



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institutionalism, but also because it looms large in Pierson’s conception of institutions and

critique of neofunctionalism (1996, 126, 131, 147), as well as Alter’s (1998) findings. As Alter

concludes, the “legal rules of the game” constrained member states and empowered the ECJ:

“[I]n countries where national courts are less legitimate, less vigilant, and a rule of law ideology

is not a significant domestic political factor, politicians would be more likely to use extralegal

means to circumvent ECJ jurisprudence” (144).

Below we develop a historical institutionalist understanding of delegation dynamics that

differs from these historical institutionalist explanations in three respects. First, it explicitly

incorporates the normative dimension. Second, it draws upon the insights of neofunctionalists,

recognizing that many of the capabilities they identify as shaping the prospects for IO autonomy

are institutionally based. Third, it endogenizes preferences, conceiving them as emerging from

the institutional context in which delegation takes place, rather than employing rational actor

assumptions.6

Like these approaches, however, the argument emphasizes the key role decision rules play

in aggregating member states’ preferences and explicitly focuses on domestic political factors in

explaining delegation dynamics.7 Our argument is historical in the sense that it views the

variables as unfolding and compounding over time, rather than in a discrete time period. We

identify three institutional traits that make IO autonomy and member state control more or less

possible: whether an IO’s mission reflects norms salient in members’ national arenas; decision-

making and voting rules that structure the relationship among member states, and between them

and the IO; and the organizational capacity of the IO. Although we discuss these factors

separately, in reality they operate simultaneously. The order of discussion is deliberate; the



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normative context affects not simply the consequences of delegation, but also its form.

Shared Norms

Scholars argue that states often establish an IO because its mission is appropriate in light

of salient national norms (Finnemore and Sikkink 1998). The IO then may be a logical step in

the states’ actions to achieve certain objectives they consider appropriate or legitimate (Wendt

2001). Likewise, the IO may be delegated specific responsibilities and competencies that reflect

legitimate practices among its members. Member states’ national norms may then set the

parameters for the tasks delegated to the IO, as well as affect their capacity to limit its actions

regardless of the rules that structure the relationship among member states and the IO (the

structure of control), and the organizational capacity of the IO.

To determine whether the IO’s mission or responsibilities reflect prevailing national

normative practices demands an investigation of member states’ constitutions, laws,

administrative procedures, and conventional practices on the issue or activity in question (Legro

1997; Risse and Sikkink 1999).8 Because organizations and norms change and because some

organizations encompass multiple issue areas, there may be variation within a single organization

on this variable, whether the IO reflects member states’ norms.

When the IO reflects a shared, national normative consensus, it may become empowered

relative to its creators. First, member states may become more willing to endow the IO with

greater organizational capacities to accomplish its mission. The legitimacy of the social context

may justify a larger grant of organizational capacity than otherwise might be envisioned. In

addition, the greater clarity regarding cause-effect relationships in the issue area contributes to



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members’ willingness to accept voting rules that reduce their ability to control the actions of the

IO. In this regard, majority rule may replace unanimity, as members believe they have less to

fear from the IO’s actions given the legitimacy of the norms underpinning its objectives.

Second, the presence of uncontested causal ideas may empower the organization with

respect to its members; the IO can invoke its role as a vehicle of legitimate action to contest a

state’s attempt to advance a competing interest (Ascher 1983, 438). By contrast, agency theory

posits that uncertainty, or the lack of consensus regarding the optimal solution to a specific

problem, enables agents to escape the control of their principals (Lupia and McCubbins 2000,

esp. 299).9 In such cases, principals are thought to be in a weaker position to reject agent-

generated actions, since multiple courses of action may be compatible with the IO’s mandate.

This may be true, but “uncertainty on how to accomplish goals creates divisions within

organizations, even among those who agree on ultimate objectives. . . .” (Ascher 1983, 417).

Such uncertainty may make it difficult for the organization to advance any independent interest.

Third, member states may find it difficult to reverse unwanted IO actions that are

legitimate in light of national institutions and practices. That is, the IO may become empowered

by the legitimacy attached to its objectives in members’ national arenas. Principals who

recognize and reinforce the obligations domestically cannot question the agent’s actions; the

norm has become part of their identities.

Whether the outcome of delegation represents autonomy, discretion, or capture for the

agent depends on whether some or all member states are motivated by the norms advanced by the

IO. States possess multiple interests, not all of which may be advanced at any one time by

observing the norms embodied in the IO. In effect, even though a norm is salient among member



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states, interests derived from other norms or contexts may be compromised by an IO’s actions

(see Finnemore and Sikkink 1998, 914). Whether this delegation outcome represents agent

autonomy or agent discretion/ capture depends on whether some or all member states face a

conflict of interests. Moreover, states may be able to reverse unwanted actions only under

limited conditions: when the structure of control is centralized and the IO’s actions compromise

other salient, shared national norms.

Societal groups and other non-state actors may try to advance normative obligations

through an IO when national governments are unwilling or unable to do so. If the IO enjoys

organizational capacity, it may be able to act against the expressed preferences of member

governments that are advancing other national interests. So long as the action undertaken is

consistent with a salient national norm, however, member states will find it difficult to reverse it,

for the same reasons noted. The degree of agency losses in such cases varies depending on the

number of states that find the IO’s action difficult to reconcile with their other interests.

Structure of Control

Decision and voting rules in the IO’s executive body, or similar site where member states

exercise oversight, determine how many veto points or different sets of preferences are involved

in overseeing an IO and varies along a continuum based on the relative centralization of state

control.10 A centralized structure emerges when a single state exercises de jure authority over the

IO, most likely through heavily weighted voting rules. A slightly less centralized structure of

control emerges when a minority of members can influence or alter the IO’s actions. The

midpoint in the continuum is majority rule, while super majorities appear closer to the



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decentralized end of the spectrum because they accord an equal role to a larger number of

members. At the farthest end of the continuum, the most decentralized structure is based on

unanimity or consensus, in which all members must agree and a single state can reject a change

in the terms of delegation.

IO autonomy will be more likely and more frequent when the structure of control over an

IO is decentralized rather than centralized, because effective enforcement depends on agreement

among the organization’s multiple member states. (This point presumes that the IO enjoys some

degree of organizational capacity to advance its preferences; the impact of this third institutional

trait is discussed below). Given the difficulties inherent in gaining agreement to sanction errant

behavior, IO officials enjoy considerable autonomy to advance interests as they define them.

Pollack (1997, 112) explains how decentralization can provide an opening for agents: “[C]lashes

of interest among these principals can be exploited by an agent to avoid sanctions and maintain a

considerable degree of autonomy.” This dynamic is exacerbated when rules of unanimity govern

the application of possible sanctions. When multiple principals are involved, we expect

diminished utility for those decision rules or control mechanisms, such as “police patrol

oversight” and “fire-alarm oversight” procedures, that would enable a single principal to reduce

agency slippage (McCubbins and Schwartz 1987). We would expect, moreover, the IO’s

autonomy to endure over time: In a decentralized system the complexities of reaching agreement

among multiple actors with multiple preferences for alternative institutional arrangements and

policies favor the status quo.

Centralization strongly affects agency accountability. States can most effectively reverse

unintended IO behavior when decision making is centralized. Such decision-making rules allow



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member states credibly to sanction IO noncompliance, especially by changing the terms of the

delegation, reducing the budget, or terminating IO personnel. Conversely, we would expect an

IO’s autonomy to endure over time in a decentralized system, where the complexities of reaching

agreement among multiple actors favor the status quo. In short, decentralized decision-making

rules make agency accountability unlikely.

The IO still can exercise some discretion when the structure of state control is centralized.

Most often, the IO will be controlled by, accountable to, or captured by the most powerful

member state or states. In theory, however, the IO staff may share the preferences of the core

states, and centralization then will allow it to implement its preferences over those of other

member states. In any case–control, accountability, capture, or discretion–the IO’s behavior may

contravene the preferences of some member states, when member states disagree on appropriate

IO behavior.

Organizational Capacity

Member states generally provide IOs with the capabilities to fulfill the responsibilities

they delegate to them. Among the more significant resources available to an IO are its ability to

collect and disseminate technical information in support of its mission, control financial

resources, and arbitrate. The IO’s legitimacy or standing itself also is a resource. These

capacities are greater, all other things being equal, when they represent blanket rather than

conditional or renewable grants of authority to the IO. As Pollack (1997, 119) notes, capabilities

that are subject to expiration and renewal enable principals to exercise greater oversight over

agents, even affording principals tacit influence. IOs that enjoy control over financial resources



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are rare in world politics, but the World Bank and other development banks have significant

capacity for self-financing thanks to their ability to collect interest on their loans. A capacity for

information collection may derive from the existence of a staff with a specific expertise (e.g.,

Ascher 1983; Martin 2000). This capacity, as well as the success with which the IO carries out

its mandate, also may be a source of legitimacy for the IO (Barnett and Finnemore 1999).

Information and legitimacy can both empower and grant autonomy to the IO in relation to

member states, as the IO staff can set the agenda in a manner that represents its own

understanding of its mission, rather than members’ goals. An arbitration role can enhance an

IO’s independence, especially when neutrality is preferred (Abbott and Snidal 1998). But such a

capacity obviously can produce agency discretion when the IO decides in favor of one state’s

interests and against another’s.

When significant organizational resources exist, the IO may enjoy the autonomy to act

independently of member states’ preferences or the discretion to adopt one or more member

state’s preferences over or above those of other states. Such potential for autonomous action is,

however, conditioned by the other two variables we examine. First, the structure of control

influences the ability of member states to rein in and reverse the undesired actions of an IO.

Decentralized decision rules may allow agency discretion/ capture and make it particularly

difficult to hold a renegade IO accountable. In such structures, when an IO enjoys organizational

resources its unwanted actions are likely to endure.

Second, the degree of IO autonomy hinges on the extent of normative consensus, which

may enhance or erode a key IO resource, legitimacy. Strong domestic support for an IO’s

mission may make it difficult for states credibly to threaten to withdraw if the IO exercises its



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capacity in unwanted ways. Perhaps most important, when the IO’s mission reflects a norm that

is salient to its member states, or at least to certain groups within those states, societal and private

interest groups may be encouraged to join with the IO to achieve their interests, sometimes at the

expense of their own governments (Martin and Simmons 1998; Sandholtz 1996). Such

coalitions are more likely to emerge and create agency independence when societal groups’

preferences diverge from their national governments, the IO possesses independent capabilities,

and the IO staff shares the preferences of the transnational coalition (see Conant 2002). This

freedom of action will take the form of discretion or capture, rather than autonomy, when

member states disagree; that is, when some states side with the IO-transnational coalition against

other states. In any case, when the IO’s capacity is high, societal groups are encouraged to

advance their interests outside the national arenas, and the IO is better able to achieve these

preferences against those of its member states. These actions will be difficult to reverse when

decision-making authority is decentralized and when the actions are consistent with a norm held

to be legitimate among the member states.

In sum, an IO is most likely to be autonomous when the structure of control is

decentralized, the IO possesses significant organizational capacity, and its mission reflects a

normative belief that is salient to its members. Member states, or at least some member states,

are best able to control an IO when the IO’s decision-making structure is centralized, the IO lacks

significant organizational capacities, and there exist no salient normative beliefs. When the

structure of control, by contrast, provides a preeminent role to a subset of the IO’s members,

undesired policy and procedural outcomes are likely to arise as far as the less privileged members

are concerned. In other words, agency capture and/ or discretion are likely to emerge.



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III. Case Studies

This section applies the argument to three case studies of state-IO relations. The case

studies are not intended as a systematic test of the argument. Rather, they illustrate and probe the

plausibility of our argument about the conditions that affect IO autonomy. The cases were

chosen for several reasons. First, the IOs examined–the WHO, the WTO, and NATO–are not

inconsequential to international relations. They deal with significant issue areas–health, trade,

and military security–and member states have accorded them substantial resources–personnel,

financial, and organizational–so that they can function as more than a meeting place for state

representatives. Second, the literature on delegation has overlooked these IOs. This is

unfortunate, since the importance of these organizations can further develop the literature. Third,

and most important, there is variation in the three independent variables across the cases. The

cases do not explore a centralized structure of control. They do, however, examine the effects of

differing degrees of decentralization, as well as variation in normative consensus and

organizational capacity. Such variance lends greater plausibility and applicability to our

analytical claims, provided these claims are validated by the empirical evidence (King, Keohane

and Verba 1994). This section first applies the argument to NATO, then to the WHO and the

WTO. Each case delineates the values of the three independent variables and their effects on

member states’ ability to control the IO. The cases conclude with an evaluation of the

applicability of alternative approaches to delegation dynamics.

The North Atlantic Treaty Organization



20

A relatively decentralized organization in which decision making at the highest level

occurs by consensus, NATO nevertheless has enjoyed little autonomy from its member states.

The lack of a normative consensus in the security arena led the principals to delegate only very

limited capabilities to the agent. Together, these two variables produced member state control

and prevented the agency losses that might otherwise be expected to result from decentralization.

NATO’s founders faced a security environment characterized by little normative

consensus about the nature of security and the best way to achieve it. To the extent that the

Atlantic states in the late 1940s shared a commitment to similar national norms in the security

arena, it was to the relatively narrow concept of independent interests and decision making. In

most European states, as in the United States, this principle was embedded in foreign policy and

national security institutions that privileged executive discretion (Hancock 1998; Schlesinger

1973). Beyond this limited consensus, however, member states differed over how to maintain

national security–through alliances or isolation, multilateralism or unilateralism. Europeans

shared a long history of reliance on military alliances, while Americans had extolled the virtues

of nonentanglement from their country’s birth. Both groups agreed that the Soviet Union and

Germany posed potential threats to their interests, but each defined those interests independently

of the other and they differed over how best to achieve them.

The debate over the origins of NATO reflected this gap between U.S. and European

national norms. After the second World War, the United States advanced a vision of a strong

and independent Europe, while many Europeans envisioned U.S. military assistance to and active

involvement in the defense of Western Europe (Kaplan 1994, 18). Historically strong isolationist



21

sentiment combined with shrinking military budgets to make Americans suspicious of European

attempts to draw them into the role of military protector. It was not until the 1948 Vandenberg

Resolution cleared the way for “association by the United States, by constitutional process, with

regional and other collective arrangements as are based on continuous and effective self-help and

mutual aid” (quoted in Kaplan 1994, 23), that the U.S. government was able to enter treaty

negotiations with the Europeans. One more political battle remained, however. The U.S. Senate

objected to Article 5 of the treaty, which could have obligated the United States to go to war in

defense of its European allies. The final version of the North Atlantic Treaty, completed in

February 1949, therefore contained an important concession to American domestic politics: Each

member’s commitment to take “such action as may be necessary” in response to an armed attack

on its allies was replaced by the weaker phrase, “such action as it deems necessary” (Kaplan

1994, 28). The formation of a military alliance such as NATO represented a sharp break with

prevailing U.S. policy. U.S. negotiators insisted on the new wording in Article 5 because no

meaningful normative shift in the national arena had preceded or accompanied the policy change.

Despite a growing European commitment to multilateralism and collective decision

making and significant U.S. debate in the 1990s, there still has been no visible transformation in

the United States on the definition of security interests and the appropriate means of meeting

threats to those interests. NATO members’ narrow commitment to contribute to collective

deterrence and defense as they individually deem necessary emerged largely unscathed from post

Cold War era debates over the alliance’s changing role.11 The new Strategic Concept, approved

by heads of government in 1999, recommits the alliance to safeguarding security, facilitating

consultation, and fostering deterrence and defense, but it also adds a promise to engage in crisis



22

management and partnership with other states in the Euro-Atlantic region (NATO 1999, pt. 9).

NATO members agreed that the post Cold War security environment might call for non-Article 5

peace support operations. All peace support missions are decided on a case by case basis,

however, suggesting that there has been little or no change in national norms. The debates that

preceded the agreement to allow nontraditional missions, particularly France’s call for a separate

command structure for non-Article 5 operations, illustrates the continued divisions among

member states (Simon and Kay 1999, 383-84).

From the start, NATO’s decentralized decision-making structure reflected the lack of

normative consensus and U.S. reticence about entangling alliances. The top decision-making

organ in NATO is the North Atlantic Council (NAC), which meets at the highest level (foreign

ministers or heads of government) twice a year and at the deputy level (permanent

representatives) on a monthly basis. Decision making within the Council is by consensus.

“When decisions have to be made, action is agreed upon on the basis of unanimity and common

accord. There is no voting or decision by majority. Each nation represented at the Council table

or any of its subordinate committees retains complete sovereignty and responsibility for its own

decisions” (NATO 2001, ch. 7). Military forces may be mobilized, in short, only when all

member states agree.

Much has been made in recent years of changes in NATO decision rules that would allow

the IO to move away from consensus decision making. The agreement to allow non-Article 5

peace support operations in Europe recognized that these missions might not enjoy the support of

some NATO-member states, especially the United States. In 1996, therefore, members

authorized the creation of Combined Joint Task Forces (CJTF)–rapidly deployable, multinational



23

forces comprised of NATO and possibly non-NATO forces and under the control of NATO and/

or the Western European Union (WEU).12 CJTFs could use NATO assets for nontraditional

missions, even if U.S. troops were not involved. In theory, these “coalitions of the willing”

might enable a subset of member states to capture the IO and use it for their own ends; in

practice, however, all such missions require the prior approval of the NAC (Barry 1997, 214;

Simon and Kay 1999, 384), thereby preventing agency capture.

A commitment to independent decision making on security issues also led signatories to

the 1949 North Atlantic Treaty to delegate few powers to the new IO. The Secretary General

may raise subjects for the NAC and so may perform a limited agenda-setting function, but the IO

has narrow responsibilities beyond that. Its relatively small staff reflects this limited capacity:

The International Staff comprises 1,300 civilian members, and the International Military Staff

includes about 350 members and about 80 civilian personnel (NATO 2001, ch. 10). Most

important, the IO does not decide when force will be employed, even in response to a direct

attack; member states do. In theory, member states also retain control of the size and nature of

their contribution to collective defense, although in practice member states “follow agreed

defence planning procedures which provide the methodology and machinery for determining the

forces needed for the implementation of Alliance policies, for coordinating national defence

plans and for establishing force planning goals which are in the interests of the alliance as a

whole” (NATO 2001, ch 7). At the ministerial level, NATO develops force goals, which are

updated every two years. NATO staff and military authorities prepare “country chapters” that

assess individual states’ progress toward meeting their contributions to the common defense, but

they have no authority to compel member state compliance with their commitments.



24

Decentralized decision making prevents a subset of states from capturing the IO, while

the narrow normative consensus and limited functions assigned to the IO inhibit agent autonomy

and discretion; member states largely control NATO’s actions. The United States has long

dominated NATO, but it would be an overstatement to say that it ever captured the organization.

France’s disillusionment with U.S. primacy, among other things, led it to withdraw from the

military side of NATO in 1966 and to evict NATO troops and headquarters from French

territory. Similarly, the United States’ shift from massive retaliation to flexible response may

have left other member states little choice but to ignore concerns about the U.S. commitment to

European defense and follow suit. In neither case, however, did the United States, the most

powerful member country, make use of decision rules within NATO to compel IO behavior that

contravened other members’ preferences.

At the same time, NATO lacked the means to act autonomously. Indeed, member states

never invoked Article 5 before the events of September 11, 2001, and they only invoked Article

4, which forms the basis for peace support missions, in the 1990s in response to conflict in the

former Yugoslavia. In Bosnia, the lack of consensus on peace support missions stymied NATO

action. In 1990, for example, when the United States suggested that NATO discuss preventive

action in Yugoslavia, France blocked the move because it wanted a purely European security

institution, not NATO, to dominate post Cold War European security issues (Hoffmann 1996,

103). In Kosovo, NATO staff and military commanders were frustrated by their inability to act

independently of the alliance’s political apparatus. NATO’s air commander, Lt. General Michael

Short, frequently and publicly complained of his inability “to go downtown [Belgrade] from the

first night,” and NATO’s supreme military commander in Europe, General Wesley Clark,



25

conceded that “an incremental campaign was essential to maintain alliance cohesion” (quoted in

Marcus 2000, 81). As then Secretary of Defense William Cohen lamented, “[I]f we were to carry

out and act unilaterally, we would have a much more robust, aggressive, and decapitating type of

campaign. . . . The difference, here, of course, is that we’re acting as an alliance” (quoted in

Daalder and O’Hanlon 2000, 159).

NATO was and remains largely a military alliance and, in many ways, typifies the realist

image of an IO as little more than a forum for the expression and advancement of national

preferences.13

Because of the lack of agreement in the security realm, particularly during the

Cold War, on much beyond the preservation of self interest, member states have delegated very

little authority to NATO. For the same reason, member states created an organization based on

consensus. NATO, in short, remains largely a forum for joint decision making.

Existing approaches to delegation fall short of explaining the lack of agency losses in

NATO or provide only a single piece of the puzzle. Agency theory’s focus on preference

heterogeneity might suggest significant slippage between members’ preferences and IO action,

since any disagreement among the principals could be expected to prevent implementation of

sanctions against a relatively autonomous agent. Even a broader focus on decentralized voting

rules would predict agency loss. Neofunctionalism supplies a large part of the reason why such

losses do not arise: NATO’s founders delegated few functions to the new IO. Nevertheless,

neofunctionalism stops short of examining why NATO’s creators, who felt strongly that such an

organization should exist, nevertheless granted it very little capacity for independent action.

Constructivism’s attention to the normative environment helps us to complete the picture, but to

date related research has focused largely on NATO’s independent interests and organizational



26

culture (McCalla 1996). It is difficult to understand NATO’s role and the limited consequences

of states’ delegation of authority without reference to the divergence among national norms in the

security arena. Because the Atlantic states agreed on little beyond the necessary independence of

national security interests and decision making, they endowed the agency they created with few

policy instruments and created decision rules that prevented a subset of actors from capturing the

IO.

World Health Organization

Established in 1948, the WHO is among the largest of the specialized agencies of the

United Nations with 191 member states and a two-year budget of more than $800 million. This

“directing and coordinating authority on international health work” has a very ambitious

mandate: “the attainment by all peoples of the highest possible level of health.” The IO’s

founding document elaborates this goal in its definition of health as “a state of complete physical,

mental and social well-being and not merely the absence of disease or infirmity” (WHO,

Preamble). Nevertheless, normative consensus among member states has been limited to the role

of the state in promoting health care and especially in eradicating infectious disease. Majority

rule among member states means that a subset of members often is able to capture the agency

and that the agency may enjoy considerable discretion. The delegation of budgetary,

information-gathering, and rule-setting authorities to the WHO reinforces that discretion and may

generate autonomy.

The WHO’s creation reflected a widely shared national commitment among the signatory

states to the protection and promotion of the health of their citizens (e.g., Mingst 1992, 226;



27

Roemer 1991, 645). More specifically, this normative consensus revolves around the concept of

public health. “As envisioned by its American pioneers public health was a practical system, or

infrastructure, rooted in two fundamental scientific tenets: the germ theory of disease and the

understanding that preventing disease in the weakest elements of society ensured protection for

the strongest (and richest) in the larger community” (Garrett 2000, 11). By the early twentieth

century, the industrialized world shared a relatively medicalized model of public health (Starr

1982, 181, 184) and, particularly after the depression and World War II, institutionalized that

model in national health bureaucracies (e.g., Adams 1982,19, 153-57; Graig 1999, 77, 124-25,

156). Industrialized states then turned their financial and technical resources to helping poorer

states fight infectious disease and undergo the same “health transition” that the advanced

industrialized world already had achieved (Fidler 1999, 12-13; Garrett 1994, 31). Not

surprisingly, the new IO focused on preventing infectious disease outbreaks, standardizing

epidemiological and public health practices, and building national health infrastructures. Its

constitution reflected the national consensus about the role of the state in health promotion:

“[G]overnments have a responsibility for the health of their people which can be fulfilled only by

the provision of adequate health and social measures” (WHO, Preamble).14 At the same time,

however, that consensus did not extend to the role of national or international bureaucracies in

providing direct medical services (Jacobson 1973, 176, 181) or to the use of international law to

define and impose acceptable levels of health within states (Fidler 1999, 283; Taylor 1992, 303).

Rather, national governments sought to project their commitment to disease eradication outward

to poorer states through the WHO.

The WHO’s founders embedded this shared commitment to public health in a highly



28

technical agency with a complex, decentralized structure. Like other specialized agencies, it

includes a parliamentary body, the World Health Assembly (WHA), an executive board, and a

secretariat. Decision making within the WHA, which is composed of representatives of all the

member states, is based on a one-state, one-vote formula. Representatives generally are chosen

for their technical competence in the health field and usually represent the national health

ministry of the member state. Decisions within the WHA are taken by majority rule, although

“important questions”–including regulations, resolutions, and amendments to the constitution–

require a two-thirds majority of members present and voting (WHO, Art. 60). Beginning in

1960, the primary recipients of WHO technical assistance–African, Asian, and Latin American

states–constituted the two-thirds majority necessary to pass resolutions, regulations, and

recommendations (Jacobson 1973, 200). The Executive Board, which is elected by the WHA

and makes decisions by majority rule, includes 32 technically qualified individuals whose role is

to advise and facilitate the work of the WHA. According to WHO doctrine, members of the

board serve as individuals, not as representatives of their home states (Jacobson 1973, 179).15

The WHO’s director-general, who is appointed by the WHA upon nomination by the Executive

Board, oversees a staff of 3500 health and other experts. In addition to the central organization

in Geneva, the WHO comprises six regional organizations, each of which includes a regional

committee and a regional office, headed by the regional director, who is appointed by the

executive board on the nomination of the regional committee.

Member states have delegated at least four major policy instruments to WHO staff. First,

regional directors appoint all field personnel in their regions, and the director-general appoints

expert committees and scientific groups to study particular issues (Jacobson 1973, 201-02).



29

Second, regional and international staff play substantial roles in the formulation of the WHO’s

budget and spending priorities.16 Countries submit requests for technical assistance to the WHO,

and these applications are forwarded to regional offices, where the regional director formulates a

budget.17 Once approved by the regional committee, the budget goes to the director-general, who

drafts a budget for the entire agency. She may suggest new programs or levels of activity,

allocate funds among the regions, or veto staff initiatives. She plays a central role: She must

submit the budget to the executive board, which can comment on but not alter it. The WHA

approves the final budget with a two-thirds majority of members present and voting and

apportions expenses among member states. Third, WHO staff gather information and publish

expert reports that then guide WHO personnel in the field. Members of expert advisory panels

report on developments within their fields, and expert committees and groups study specific

issues. The committee must consent to any changes in its report and, like less formal documents,

reports require only the director-general’s approval to be published (Jacobson 1973, 202).

Finally, the WHO has significant rule-setting authority. The IO’s constitution (Arts. 21-22)

allows the WHA to adopt binding regulations, although it has used the authority only twice and

only on relatively uncontroversial technical issues.18 More often, the WHA adopts conventions

or agreements that are then subject to domestic ratification within the member states. Such

resolutions often are based on reports by expert committees and scientific groups, which serve a

rule-setting function even when they do not inform resolutions. The expert committees carry

considerable authority, and their reports provide guidance to WHO field personnel, but also to

health care workers around the world who are not associated with the WHO.

Together, these three variables suggest that the IO should enjoy considerable discretion–



30

particularly when a super majority of recipient states dominates the WHA–and even autonomy–

as when the director-general exercises her authorities. Indeed, the IO has extended its reach in

several ways not originally envisioned by its founders and undesired by some or many states.

First, the WHO’s budget has grown steadily, often against the wishes of the major donors.19

Under the two-thirds majority voting rule, until the late 1960s the recipient-dominated WHA

adopted annual budgets recommended by the director-general over the vocal resistance of the

major donor states. In 1967, rather than risk the withdrawal of U.S. and other major donor

support, the director-general negotiated guidelines for budgetary growth with key states. The

director-general still formulates the budget, but by agreement that annual growth will not exceed

a certain percentage of the present budget.20 Donor states set up a weak enforcement measure,

but national commitment to disease prevention made it difficult for even the largest contributors

credibly to threaten to withdraw if their interests were not respected, and the director-general’s

significant budgetary authority prevented the key states from heavily influencing the budget.

Second, the WHO has steadily increased its operational activities in health areas not

originally anticipated and often opposed by major donors, especially the United States. Haas

(1990, 138-39) notes that this process was incremental until the 1970s, when developing

countries began to assert themselves in the WHA and attempted to expand the concept of public

health to include primary health care. Many activities also have expanded as a result of the

director-general’s initiative and expert committee reports. Against U.S. opposition, in 1970 the

WHO issued guidelines for drug manufacturing quality control. In 1978, despite U.S. opposition

to any WHO involvement in regulating the distribution and use of pharmaceuticals in the Third

World, the WHO passed a resolution establishing the Action Program on Essential Drugs



31

(Mingst, 1992, 216-18). In 1981, similarly, the WHA passed an International Code of Marketing

of Breast-milk Substitutes, opposed by the Reagan Administration, that reflected several years of

work by WHO and UNICEF staffs (Sikkink 1986; Mingst 1992, 216-17). More recently, the

WHO began work on an international framework convention on tobacco control, which again

promises to rile feathers in the United States (Global War 2002). The strength of members’

commitment to health promotion and the policy instruments available to the director-general

combined with favorable decision rules gradually to expand the agency’s operational activities

and grant the IO staff considerable discretion.

Finally, the agency has become involved in a number of issues that key states found too

“political” and beyond the mandate of health promotion. For example, the WHA endorsed an

expert report that concluded that “nuclear weapons constitute the greatest immediate threat to the

health and welfare of mankind,” despite U.S. complaints that the issue was outside the WHO’s

area of expertise (Williams 1987, 63). Again acting on an expert study, the WHA passed a

resolution concerning the epidemiological situation in Vietnam (Jacobson 1973, 187). It passed

resolutions accusing South Africa of destabilizing the governments of border states and calling

for SWAPO to be recognized as the only legal representative of the Namibian people (Williams

1987, 64), and it amended the WHO’s constitution granting itself the authority to suspend or

expel a member if it “ignores the humanitarian principles and the objectives laid down in the

Constitution, by deliberately practicing a policy of racial discrimination” (quoted in Jacobson

1973, 183). Often in response to reports of medical experts, the WHA has criticized health

services and Israel’s treatment of civilians in occupied territories, condemned Israel for launching

“a ferocious war” against Lebanon, denounced Israel for ignoring previous resolutions,



32

demanded WHO visits to occupied territories, and supported the Palestinians’ right to self

determination (Jacobson 1973, 187; Mingst 1992, 223; Wells 1991, 9; Williams 1987, 64).

Widespread consensus on the importance of improving health, the role of the director-general

and expert committees, and the two-thirds majority rule have allowed the IO to move into

previously uncharted territories at the expense of some members’ interests.

In short, recipient states often have been able to capture the agency and use its moral

authority on a wide range of issues, and the IO staff has enjoyed significant discretion and

autonomy in budgetary and substantive issue areas. Still, many students of the WHO describe it

as a relatively unpoliticized entity that has not sought to exercise its full powers (Taylor 1992;

Stein 2001, 499). The evidence does not bear this out. It is true that the WHO and its director-

general often have sought compromises with the major donor states rather than risk open conflict,

but it also is true that the major powers have compromised for their part. That the WHO has not

broadened its mandate even further, moreover, may reflect the limits of the normative consensus,

based on a commitment to technical medical means of eradicating disease, that governed the

organization’s creation and continues to pervade the WHO. The director-general is a doctor, and

even governmental representatives are predominantly doctors or other technical experts. As the

current director-general, Gro Harlem Brundtland, sums up the IO’s mandate: “We can set

standards in areas where there is a reasonable agreement about facts and technical medical

content. But on the more political front about how to finance healthcare, or what part of the

gross domestic product should go to health–all of these issues are deeply political and they

certainly are not decided, in any way, by an international institution with just under 4,000 people”

(Global War 2002, 26).



33

Alternative approaches provide inadequate explanations of delegation dynamics in the

WHO. Agency theory focuses on the effects of two factors. First, the relative lack of

enforcement mechanisms–even the absence of any constitutionally mandated process for states to

withdraw from the IO–would predict the significant agency losses we see. The ultimate

budgetary sanction–withholding national contributions–should eliminate much of those losses.

To some extent it does, but the strength of the normative commitment to health promotion within

member states makes it difficult for governments credibly to threaten to exit the IO. Second,

agency theorists who focus on preference heterogeneity would emphasize the differing agendas

of the developed and developing states to predict significant agency loss. They are right;

however, those agency losses emerge only because voting rules allow the developing states’

preferences to prevail and because the IO staff has significant capacity to act independently of

member states. As the foregoing suggests, neofunctionalism adds an important dimension to our

understanding of delegation dynamics: States originally transferred considerable authority to the

IO, making it difficult for them to control the agent’s actions. Yet the founding states also

deliberately established a two-thirds majority voting rule that makes it very difficult to rein in the

IO. Finally, constructivism helps us to understand why the IO’s preferences sometimes diverge

from those of its member states, particularly the donor states. Indeed, a constructivist focus on

the relatively conservative medical or technical culture of the WHO helps us to see why those

preferences do not diverge even more often. At the same time, such an agent-centered approach

neglects the fact that the WHO’s organizational culture itself reflects the normative consensus

among the principals that led them to create an IO, imbue it with significant powers, and make it

relatively difficult to curb its excesses. By focusing on only one or two of the relevant variables,



34

in sum, alternative explanations provide an incomplete picture of the consequences of delegation.

The World Trade Organization

Established in January 1995, the WTO’s central goal is to liberalize trade among its

increasing membership (144 as of January 2002) across a growing range of issue areas (e.g.,

agriculture, manufactured goods, services, and intellectual property). Member states retain a key

role in the day-to-day functions of the WTO, but the organization has been delegated significant

dispute resolution capabilities which enable it to enjoy some discretion.

The WTO seeks to liberalize trade among its members, an objective that enjoys only

limited normative salience in the vast majority of member countries. In the core member

countries, liberalism may be more legitimate now than at any time in the past, but the

appropriateness of liberal strategies is not uncontested in the United States, the EU, Canada, and

Japan (known collectively as the Quad). To many observers, until recently Japan has lacked a

normative foundation for liberalism (Komiya and Itoh 1988; Lincoln 1990). Several leading

members of the EU, especially France and Italy, have a longstanding tradition of government

involvement in the economy and the protection of national industries (Katzenstein 1978). Even

the United States, the leading proponent of the GATT and WTO, has numerous political

institutions that enable private commercial interests to seek protectionist remedies for their

economic difficulties (Goldstein 1993). This apparent ambivalence toward liberalization may

help to explain the limited authorities delegated to the WTO Secretariat, as well as the use of

consensus voting. The key member states have sought to create an international trade regime that

mirrors their domestic institutions and practices; both provide the state with the capacity to



35

protect its interests as it defines them (Ruggie 1983).

In sharp contrast, the WTO’s dispute settlement mechanism reflects many members’–

including the Quad’s–commitment to the rule of law norm. In creating this mechanism, these

members sought to eliminate some of the problems that plagued the GATT: losers in a dispute

could block the finding and avoid compliance. The remedy replicated a domestic procedure, the

rule of law, legitimate in the Quad and many other members to make it more difficult for them to

disregard findings. A two-step juridical process was created to deal with one or more members’

claims that another has transgressed WTO rules and decision rules were established to make it

difficult for members to overturn the dispute settlement bodies’ decisions. Perhaps indicating the

members’ ambivalent embrace of liberalism, these bodies are not accorded the authority to

impose new trade obligations on members; instead, they interpret the legality of members’

actions based on existing rules.

The WTO is headed by a Ministerial Conference that includes all member states. This

body meets at least once every two years. A General Council, comprising official representatives

from each member state, meets about 12 times a year to administer the WTO’s Dispute

Settlement Body (DSB), the Trade Policy Review Body, and its 40 or so other specialized

committees (Hoekman and Kostecki 2001, 51-2). It oversees the organization’s Secretariat and

sets the agenda for the Multilateral Trade Negotiations (MTNs), which involve the rule-making

and tariff-cutting rounds that are the central means by which trade liberalization is advanced.

The structure of member state control of the General Council is decentralized, since it

operates largely on the basis of consensus.21 “Consensus does not mean unanimity. It signifies

that no country physically represented in a meeting of the Council is decisively against a major



36

issue. Those that are not present–or abstain–do not count” (Hoekman and Kostecki 1995, 40).

But if any member present objects to a decision, that single objection can block the action (WTO

1994, Article IX, footnote 1). Thus proposals for change may be difficult to achieve.

Some argue that consensus does not mean equality among the members (Woods and

Narlikar 2001). Some members are thought to have greater sway than others and enjoy an

effective veto over decision-making. Given the large number of WTO members and the wide-

ranging issues covered by the WTO, not all states are interested in or possess the technical

capacity to formulate a position on each issue. As a consequence, a smaller group of members,

in what has been referred to as the “Green room,” deal informally with many issues related to

agenda setting and final agreement. Second, states that have a large proportion of global trade

must be satisfied with the negotiations if they are to work effectively. As a consequence, the

Quad enjoys privileged positions in the negotiations, both as to what gets on the agenda and the

content of the eventual agreements (Steinberg 2002). Both practices suggest that some states

may play a more important role in the organization than others. They do not suggest, however,

that the IO acts at the expense of some members rather than others.

The WTO’s Secretariat is small in comparison to other IOs. It has a staff of about 550

people whereas the IMF has 2000 employees and the World Bank 6000 employees (Hoekman

and Kostecki 1995, 40; www.wto.org) Its annual budget of about $85 million largely covers

salaries and is based on each member’s share of the total trade of all members. A supplemental

budget is used for the MTNs.

The Secretariat’s staff of professional civil servants includes mainly trade economists and

international trade lawyers. Their primary functions reflect their expertise: the provision of



37

technical and logistical support, the publication of periodic reviews of members’ trade policies,

and the mediation of disputes between member states. The Secretariat can at its own initiative

publish reports supporting particular WTO initiatives. Shaffer (2001, 56) concludes that “on the

basis of their expertise, reputation for impartiality, inside information, and close contacts with

trade diplomats, Secretariat members can, at least at the margins, help shape knowledge, frame

issues, identify interests, facilitate coalition-building, and thereby affect outcomes.”

The WTO contains an elaborate dispute resolution process overseen by the General

Council in the guise of the DSB (see WTO 1994).22

Member states delegate authority to resolve

specific trade conflicts to a three-person dispute resolution panel constituted for individual

disputes. Nevertheless, members have created several control mechanisms to reduce the

potential for agency losses; members select the pool of potential panelists and may reject a

panelist chosen for a dispute involving them.23 A state may appeal a panel ruling to a permanent

Appellate Body (AB), which is composed of seven legal experts who are appointed for four-year

terms and are representative of the WTO membership. The defendant is expected to comply with

the AB’s decision, unless the DSB, which comprises all member states, decides by consensus not

to adopt the AB’s ruling. Such an action to negate a panel ruling requires a consensus among all

members, a difficult hurdle since only one member needs to be in favor of the report for it to be

adopted (WTO 1994, DSU, Article 16 and 17). A similar process is needed to overturn the

DSB’s decision to allow the complainant to retaliate.

According the IO–or in this case, the dispute settlement panels and AB–the capacity to

apply the rule of law provides an opening for agency losses, particularly agency capture/

discretion. In particular, the dispute settlement panels have found that defendant states have



38

passed domestic laws or regulations that contravene WTO rules and impair or nullify the benefits

accorded to other members by the treaty. The preferred remedy has been for the defendant to

eliminate the domestic policy or face compensatory sanctions from the plaintiff. In effect, the

IO’s dispute resolution panels have invalidated some member states’ domestic practices. This

outcome has affected the United States, supposedly the most powerful member of the

organization. On at least two occasions, panels have called into question the legality of U.S.

environmental regulations protecting endangered species (WTO 1998b) and the ozone layer

(WTO 1996) in light of the country’s commitments as a member of the WTO. Rather than face

the imposition of sanctions from India, Malaysia, Pakistan and Thailand in the first case, or

Venezuela in the second, the United States revised the environmental regulations at issue.

Losing countries face limited options (Jackson 1997). They can, as the United States did,

alter their policies. Or they can pay restitution or face retaliation. The EU believed, for example,

that the panel rulings against it were incorrect (WTO 1997; 1998a) and refused to alter its

policies in question. It preferred to suffer retaliatory tariffs on its exports to the United States

rather than change its policies. Nevertheless, member states have not been able to reverse the

decision of the AB. As noted above, this requires consensus in favor of doing so, which can be

blocked by one member, presumably the plaintiff. The dispute settlement process then can lead

the IO to act at the expense of some member states’ interests.

The AB also exercises discretion in another area. Dispute settlement is a closed process,

involving the defendant, plaintiff, and panel members. However, states may include documents

from private parties to support their cases if they so choose, and panels may seek the advice of

expert committees. The AB altered this process by ruling that it and panels have the discretion to



39

accept friend of the court briefs from non-governmental representatives (WTO 1998b; WTO

2000a).24 This decision enabled unsolicited private interest groups to access the dispute

settlement process and to join with other states to help produce a change in their own or other

countries’ trade policies. Some member states opposed these decisions, but because others did

not, the consensus voting rule led to acceptance of the AB’s decision. A different outcome

emerged, however, when the AB established a procedure for the submission of friend of the court

briefs and the Secretariat posted the procedure on the IO’s website (WTO 2000b). Many

members considered both entities to have overstepped their competencies. A special session of

the General Council was convened to address the matter. Although there was some debate as to

the merits of the AB’s action, the General Council reached consensus and instructed the AB to

“exercise extreme caution in future cases until Members had considered what rules were needed”

(WTO 2000c, 28). The procedures were removed from the site and the AB heeded the warning,

subsequently rejecting all amicus briefs in ruling on the case (British Steel) in question.

Alternative interpretations of delegation dynamics offer an incomplete understanding of

the conditions affecting the WTO’s role in world politics. Neofunctionalism correctly predicts

that agency losses would emerge in the dispute settlement process. It tells only half the story,

however, given that the IO’s capacity derives in large part from member states’ decision to adopt

the negative consensus rule, which limits their ability to overturn the dispute resolution bodies’

rulings. Some agency theorists would explain the appearance of agency losses by reference to

member states’ preference heterogeneity. Whether and how this factor matters, however,

depends on voting rules. Still, while voting rules enabled the dispute settlement bodies, they did

not empower the secretariat. Moreover, these variables focus on the principal, and much of the



40

agency’s discretion found here is a function of the organizational capacity of the dispute

settlement bodies, a variable capturing agency traits. Other agency theorists might emphasize the

role of oversight mechanisms, but these were significant on only one occasion and are difficult to

use credibly given the consensus voting rules. Constructivist approaches correctly note the

importance of the social context in affecting the IO’s role; as the case indicates, however, the

normative context that mattered here was that pertaining to the member state principals not the

agent. Their support for the rule of law norm conditioned the responsibilities delegated to the

WTO and the oversight mechanisms created.

IV. Conclusion: Findings and Implications

This paper explores the conditions that lead IOs to play a more or less autonomous role in

international relations. We draw on recent research in American and European politics to

explain how existing institutions influence states’ and IOs’ relative capabilities. We develop a

historical institutionalist approach focusing on the role of three institutional traits: whether the

IO’s mission reflects normative beliefs salient in its members’ national arenas; decision-making

and voting rules that structure the relationship among member states, and between them and the

IO; and the organizational capacity of the IO. IO autonomy is most likely when it reflects a

normative framework salient in member states’ national arenas, the structure of control is

decentralized, and the IO enjoys significant organizational capacity. The normative framework is

the most fundamental variable in the sense that it helps to determine what tasks are delegated to

the organization and the decision rules affecting the IO’s use of those authorities.

The three case studies generally confirm the expectations of the argument. NATO enjoys



41

no real autonomy. This delegation outcome might at first glance appear counterintuitive given

the decentralized structure of member state control. Consensus decision-making can create

agency losses, but that hinges on an agency endowed with organizational capacity. The NATO

Secretariat does not possess the ability to capitalize on preference heterogeneity among its

members. The authority delegated to NATO and the structure of control reflect the normative

framework in the security area, that of national independence and executive discretion. This IO

then enjoys little potential for autonomous actions; at the same time, the structure of control

makes it difficult for member states to reform or use the IO when necessary.

Member states largely control the WTO Secretariat, an entity endowed with limited

organizational capacity. In contrast, the dispute settlement panels and AB frequently exhibit

agency discretion/ capture. Differences in these outcomes largely reflect variations in the

normative context and its impact on member states’ willingness to grant the IO competence in

various task environments. The WTO is unique among the three IOs examined here in that

member states were able to reverse the IO’s unwanted actions. Their ability to do so is surprising

in light of the decentralized structure of control. However, the constraints created by this

structure of control were diminished by the nearly unanimous view that the IO had overstepped

its competence. This case warrants further research, as agency accountability is unexpected

given the structure of control and the fact that no explicit sanctions were threatened. The IO’s

deference may reflect the context. Many states and academic observers were concluding that the

dispute settlement process needed to be reformed (Jackson 2000); deference may reduce member

states’ desire for reforms curtailing the IO’s discretion.

The WHO alone among the IOs examined exhibits autonomy. This IO’s autonomy is



42

unexpected in light of the presumed weakness of UN organizations, their general subordination

to states’ interests, and their reliance on states for funding. But the experience of the WHO

indicates that when the normative framework underpinning an IO is salient in member states’

national arenas, the potential for agency losses can be high. Agency losses also were registered

as a consequence of the WHO’s organizational capacity and the majority voting decision rule,

which created frequent examples of agency discretion/ capture. Interestingly, this outcome did

not embody realist expectations that the IO would reflect the preferences of the strongest states.

In fact, the case suggests that the strongest state can find itself on the losing end of decisions

when the IO reflects a norm salient in the state’s national arena and the decision rules are

majoritarian.

Differing degrees of agency loss emerged in the different state-IO relationships examined.

Indeed, neither control nor autonomy was most prevalent. Instead, the hybrid, agency discretion/

capture emerged most frequently, indicating the utility of adopting a more nuanced understanding

of agency loss. The frequency of this type of delegation dynamic reflects the organizational

capacity and decision rules of the WTO and WHO; both institutional factors enable the IO to

operate in a manner that can further some member states’ preferences at the expense of others’

interests. More fundamentally, these outcomes suggest that IOs may not be fully autonomous or

completely controlled. Their role is likely to be somewhere in the middle, indicating that future

research needs to adopt a more nuanced conception of possible delegation outcomes.

The empirical findings highlight both the limitations and utility of existing approaches to

delegation. While the outcomes were largely consistent with agency theory, the role of oversight

mechanisms was negligible. Preference heterogeneity was common, but the ability to resolve



43

those differences depended on existing voting rules. As neofunctionalists contend, moreover, the

functions delegated to an organization_a variable capturing agency traits_have much to do with

its potential for autonomous actions. The WHO and WTO were originally delegated greater

capabilities than was NATO, and they demonstrate greater agency losses than NATO. But as the

WHO and WTO illustrate, functions alone do not guarantee independence. Voting rules affect

whether and to what extent potential autonomy is realized. Constructivist approaches correctly

note the importance of the social context in portending agency autonomy; as the cases indicate,

however, the normative context that mattered was that pertaining to member state principals, not

agents. This normative context not only conditioned the responsibilities delegated to the IOs, but

also affected member state principals’ capacity to limit the expansion of their activities. In

effect, each perspective sheds light on significant elements of the state-IO relationships, but

cannot account for others that influenced them.

This paper maintains that a synthesis among the varied strengths of the competing

approaches is possible and worthwhile. There are elements of incompatibility among the

contending approaches, but they share a contention that institutions–whether formal or

normative–affect the consequences of delegation. The historical institutionalist approach

developed here provides a richer understanding of the complexity inherent in state delegation of

authority to IOs as it explains whether and to what extent IOs will be autonomous in world

politics.



44

Endnotes

1.In doing so, we build on ideas about the relationship among agents, institutions, and unintended

consequences developed in Cortell and Peterson 2001.

2.“Agency slippage” arises “when the structure of delegation itself provides perverse incentives

for the agent to behave in ways inimical to the preferences of the principals” (Pollack 1997, 108).

“Agency shirking” occurs when the agent withholds effort (see Lupia and McCubbins 2000,

294). Slippage and shirking represent different forms of a similar dynamic: the ability of the

agent to act autonomously.

3.For a related argument, see Tallberg 2002, 32. For an early observation that autonomy could betreated as a variable see, Ness and Brechin 1988.

4.Some might view agency autonomy as being similar to the concept of “abdication,” in which

“the principal has no control over the agent’s actions” (Lupia and McCubbins 2000, 295).

5.Policy instruments are sometimes referred to as “centralization.” See Abbott and Snidal 1998;

Koremenos, Lipson, and Snidal 2001.

6.This strategy has served as the starting point for others’ efforts to develop a richer historical

institutionalist approach. See Risse, Cowles and Caporaso 2001, 15.

7.Martin and Simmons 1998 point out that the study of international institutions more generallyhas tended to neglect the role of domestic political conditions.

8.This investigation may be difficult when the IO has a large membership. In such cases, the

focus is narrowed to an analysis of the major member states of that IO. As noted previously, this

includes the state or states that play a preeminent role in the relevant issue area by virtue of their

financial or similar contribution to the IO, their voting rights in the IO, or their prestige in the

policy area.

9.Rational choice agency theorists tend to assume that uncertainty heightens agency losses.

However, the role of uncertainty is often combined with other variables and conditions to

generate this expectation. See for example, Pollack (1997, 102, 126 and 130).

10.Theoretically, this continuum includes one point beyond a centralized structure, one in which

there are no veto points and no states control the IO. This form of control arises when voting

rules deliberately accord the IO independence of initiative and action in the issue area. In such a

delegation situation, states intentionally accord the IO an autonomous role and agency losses

would be seen as anticipated and necessary. Although a theoretical possibility, this structure of

control is exceedingly rare in world politics.



45

11.McCalla (1996) and Wallander (2000) suggest that NATO has developed norms beyond

collective defense and the procedures and assets to implement those norms, but both authors

address whether NATO persists, not whether it is an autonomous actor. More important,McCalla (1996, 466-468) concludes, as we do, that domestic politics limits national leaders’

ability to change international institutions.

12.The WEU has since dissolved.

13.Realism has difficulty, however, explaining why NATO has survived the end of the cold war

(McCalla 1996; Wallander 2000).

14.Jacobson (1973, 177) notes the ease with which states achieved consensus at the 1946

International Health Conference concerning the WHO’s objective and functions.

15.On occasion, Jacobson (1973, 195) tells us, U.S. members have taken one position whenserving on the executive board and another when they later served as WHA delegates.

16.WHO funds come from several different sources: the regular budget; voluntary funds; and

funds from other organizations, primarily UNICEF and UNDP.

17.The director-general also provides guidelines for budget development.

18.These include the 1948 Unification of Statistical Classification of Morbidity and Mortality–

requiring member states to apply a single, universally accepted classification of diseases, injuries,

and causes of death–and the 1951 International Sanitary Regulations–which combined a

patchwork of earlier international health regulations into a unified code for infectious diseasecontrol (Fidler 1999, 59; Goodman 1971, 243-44; Stein 2001, 497, n. 43).

19.States generally contribute to the budgets of the specialized agencies at the same rate they are

assessed for the United Nations budget. The United States provides about 25% of the WHO’s

budget, while Japan, Germany, Russia, France, and Britain all contribute 5% or more.

20.Jacobson sums up the relationship between the director-general and the budget this way: “He

could go against the wishes of these states, but he could not alienate them. The figure settled on

for budgetary growth was thus less than he and the net recipients considered desirable, but more

than that favored by the major donors” (Jacobson 1973, 210, also 188-89).

21.The organization identifies certain situations (e.g., requests for waivers from the rules)

requiring voting, which is based on the principle of one-state, one vote. Depending on the issue,

voting is by a majority of two-thirds or three-quarters. Changes in the organization’s central

principles demand unanimity.

22.The DSB, operating on the basis of consensus, has “the authority to establish panels, adopt

panel reports, scrutinize implementation of recommendations, and authorize retaliatory measures



46

if the losing party to a dispute does not abide by the panel’s recommendations” (Hoekman and

Kostecki 2001, 76).

23.The panelist serves in his/her individual capacity as an expert in the field and not as a

representative of a national government (Hoekman and Kostecki 2001, 76).

24.The AB determined that it and the panels were authorized to accept such briefs, but not

obligated to do so.

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