Monday
April 12, 2010 |
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It’s always deeply painful when Africa
achieves another distinction in the wrong sector. This time, it’s in the
foolish art of throwing money away!
Last month, the Global Financial Integrity, a Washington-based research
group, released a sobering report on the illicit outflow of cash from
African nations. The report concluded that, in the four decades between
1970 and 2008, African nations lost $854 billion through illegal
transfers of funds. And GFI suggests that it’s a conservative estimate.
Actual outflows, the report states, may be as high as $1.8 trillion.
In case Nigerians are wondering – yes, our country (once again) topped
the list. With $240.7 billion, Nigeria clinched a claim as the
outstanding star in the league of exporters of cash. Nigeria’s closest
competitor, Egypt, lost $131.3 billion. The other countries in the top
five are South Africa ($76.4 billion), Morocco ($41 billion), and
Algeria ($35.1 billion).
There’s little surprise about Nigeria’s stellar showing in this dubious
league. It’s estimated, after all, that Sani Abacha alone pocketed more
than $3 billion. Last year, a Swiss judge ordered the freezing of $350
million in assets “belonging” to Abba Abacha, one of the dictator’s
sons.
The picture is dismal. Much of these stolen funds end up in European,
Asian, and North American banks. And then comes the paradox: the same
public officials responsible for frittering away the continent’s
resources are quick to haunt the capitals of Europe and North America,
bowl in hand, to beg – shamelessly! – for alms.
The GFI report illustrates the anomaly: what Africa has exported in
illicit cash is at least double the official development aid that’s come
to the continent. That’s one way of saying – forgive the cliché – penny
wise, pound-foolish. Here’s the diagram of events. First, our rulers
wire good money to the so-called big donor nations. Then they travel to
the Western capitals to debase themselves begging for handouts. Often,
they return, like triumphant fools, clutching the pittance they received
– at best, half of the loot they “donated” to Western banks. And then
they promptly privatize much of the aid – and wire it back to their
Western sponsors.
What’s worse, foreign aid – unlike the cool cash we idiotically transfer
– comes with strings attached. Often, it’s aid only in name, but in
reality part of the scheme by donors to further impoverish African
peoples. All too frequently, foreign aid is abracadabra, pure and
simple. It’s often packaged as “technical” assistance that destitute
African nations are coaxed to pay for – often at hideously inflated
prices.
It’s a financial magician’s dream trick. One day, no questions asked,
African rulers enrich the banks and economies of the West with looted
funds. The next day, these same rulers show up in Western capitals on
perennial begging missions. They look like miscast mendicants in their
designer suits and handcrafted pairs of shoes. They mope, listening –
with little or no sense of shame or irony – to Western “donors” give
them long, stiff and humiliating lectures on the virtues of wise
investment, sound economic planning, and financial discipline.
I invoke the words of Ayi Kwei Armah: Why are we so blest?
There’s no question that many – I dare say, most – of those who answer
to the name of leader in Africa are in the mold that Frantz Fanon
categorizes as “contemptible fools.” But there’s also, we must not
forget, the issue of the hypocrisy of the world’s economic powers – the
nations whose banks facilitate the thefts in Africa, and keep the
proceeds. When the right crop of African leaders reclaim their nations
from the depraved hands of those who steal for a living, then the issue
of the West’s role in impoverishing Africa must be raised.
It would be comforting if we could say that the GFI report focused on a
habit that African leaders have since been dropped. Sadly, that’s far
from being the case.
Take Nigeria. Despite some modest gains made over the last eleven years
against the scourge of corruption and money laundering, the culture of
stealing public funds remains alive.
Last week, the president of the Nigerian Bar Association reminded the
world that his country has not lifted a finger about the Halliburton
bribe scandal. This, despite the fact that there’s no doubt that
officials of Halliburton handed hefty bribes to high-ranking Nigerian
public officials. And despite the fact that Mr. Umaru Yar’Adua promised
that he would not shield any implicated officials, and made a “show” of
setting up an investigation panel. Chances are that, had Yar’Adua not
been hobbled by sickness, he would have bestowed national honors on some
of the Nigerian recipients of Halliburton bribes.
Nigerians pay a steep price for a culture that garlands corrupt people
with pompous chieftaincy titles and hollow honors. That price is that
corruption has become as familiar as staple food; the stealing of public
funds is so normalized, in fact, that those who reject the temptation to
steal are often viewed as fools – or worse.
Nigerian officials are specialists in squandermania, the disease of
throwing money away. Nigerians throw away money on power generators,
neglecting to fix their country’s power supply. Too many government
officials splash huge fortunes on high-priced cars, but won’t invest in
road construction and maintenance. They dole out stupendous sums to
foreign hospitals and doctors, but won’t provide a healthcare system
worthy of human beings for their hapless fellows who are stuck in
Nigeria.
Today, Nigerians are riveted by the scandal of the N64 billion-runway at
the Nnamdi Azikiwe International Airport in Abuja. How did Julius Berger
win a contract to construct a runway whose price tag surpasses the cost
of building an entire airport? Nigeria has a Bureau of Public
Procurement whose statutory job includes the carrying out of due
diligence before signing off on contracts. Did the officials of that
bureau go to sleep when it came time to vet this contract? How in the
world did the bureau give a thumbs-up to a project whose cost – from all
appearances – is so scandalously inflated?
The aviation committee of the House of Representatives has been holding
hearings, but I doubt that its members are less puzzled than the rest of
us. Numerous officials have appeared before the committee in Abuja, but
none has given a coherent explanation. The runway saga is, I fear, one
of those bizarre narratives that point up how Nigeria’s cash takes wings
and flies away to foreign vaults.
Here’s a textbook case deserving Nigerians’ attention. The bar
association, labor unions, student activists, the media and other civic
organizations ought to use this case to advance the cause of
accountability in Nigeria. Acting President Goodluck Jonathan ought to
ask for briefing on this scandal. At the very least, he should send away
the leadership of the Bureau of Public Procurement and demand that
Julius Berger renegotiate the contract.
GFI’s director, Raymond Baker, stated that stemming the “devastating
outflow of much-needed capital is essential to achieving economic
development and poverty alleviation goals in these [African] countries.”
It’s questionable that Mr. Jonathan has the will to play spoiler to
those who profit by throwing away Nigeria’s cash. But he has a rare
opportunity to rise above the limitations of his political career, and
the forces that contend for his loyalty. If he acts to freeze the runway
contract until the disturbing questions are resolved, and to dismiss
procurement officials who seem to doze while Nigeria is being fleeced,
he’d send a signal that the era of irresponsible fiddling with public
funds is nearing the end of its run.
