All protocols observed. Distinguished ladies and gentlemen, you are gathered here today to discuss corruption. I can say without fear of contradiction that this a subject that this gathering is imminently qualified to discuss. In fact, it is conceivable that a gathering of people as knowledgeable as you are in matters of corruption is unprecedented in world history. The scions of crony capitalism are here. The lords of the land grabbing establishment are here. The dons of the tenderpreneur mafia are here. The money laundering fraternity— the lawyers, the accountants, the bankers, property moguls—you are all here.
My good friend and anti-corruption guru John Githongo has opined that we have, over the last two decades, assembled one of the most elaborate legal and institutional anti-corruption infrastructures in the world. It has made no difference at all. Corruption has continued to flourish. Nations renowned for honest government, such as the Scandinavian countries, are not distinguished by anti-corruption infrastructure. The normal accountability institutions —auditors, parliament, police and the courts—are sufficient. To borrow from computing, corruption is quite evidently not a hardware problem. It is the software that is corrupted.
The Oxford dictionary has four definitions of corruption, namely dishonest or fraudulent conduct by those in power; the process or effect of making someone or something morally depraved; the process by which a word or expression is changed from its original state to one regarded as erroneous or debased, and; the process by which a computer database becomes debased by alteration or the introduction of errors.
I suspect that in this convention your deliberations will be largely if not exclusively concerned with the first of these, namely, dishonest and fraudulent conduct, steering clear of election fraud, nepotism, debasement of the national honours system, corruption of harambee and much more. I need not dwell on the same since, as I have already observed, you are knowledgeable and experienced in those matters.
In this address, I will speak to the broader conception, namely to the process of alteration or debasement, or to borrow from the computer analogy, the corruption of software. I will do so by expounding on a theory of African politics due to Nigerian scholar Peter Ekeh known as the theory of the “two publics”. I will be quoting extensively from his paper Colonialism and the Two Publics in Africa: A theoretical statement published in the 1975 issue of the journal Comparative Studies in Society and History.
Ekeh begins with the proposition that in western societies, the public and private spheres are governed by the same moral values and ethical norms: “what is considered morally wrong in the private realm is also considered morally wrong in the public realm [and] what is considered morally right in the private realm is also considered morally right in the public realm.”
He proceeds to postulate that in post-colonial Africa there are two public spheres. There is the conventional public sphere which he calls the “civic or state” sphere, and another which he calls the “primordial” sphere. He then postulates that the private and the primordial public spheres share a morality that does not extend to the state public sphere:
“When one moves across Western society to Africa, at least, one sees that the total extension of the Western conception of politics in terms of a monolithic public realm morally bound to the private realm can only be made at conceptual and theoretical peril. There is a private realm in Africa. But this private realm is differentially associated with the public realm in terms of morality. In fact there are two public realms in post-colonial Africa, with different types of moral linkages to the private realm. At one level is the public realm in which primordial groupings, ties, and sentiments influence and determine the individual’s public behavior. I shall call this the primordial public because it is closely identified with primordial groupings, sentiments, and activities, which nevertheless impinge on the public interest. The primordial public is moral and operates on the same moral imperatives as the private realm. On the other hand, there is a public realm which is historically associated with the colonial administration and which has become identified with popular politics in post-colonial Africa. It is based on civil structures: the military, the civil service, the police, etc. Its chief characteristic is that it has no moral linkages with the private realm. I shall call this the civic public. The civic public in Africa is amoral and lacks the generalized moral imperatives operative in the private realm and in the primordial public.”
In western societies, the public and private spheres are governed by the same moral values and ethical norms: “what is considered morally wrong in the private realm is also considered morally wrong in the public realm [and] what is considered morally right in the private realm is also considered morally right in the public realm.”
Allow me to illustrate. Every day Kenyans gather to organize weddings and funerals. They contribute money. They form committees, and appoint treasurers to keep the money. This money is seldom if ever stolen. We do not hear that a funeral or wedding did not take place because the treasurer took off with the money. Once the mission is accomplished a final meeting is convened to “break the committee.” The treasurer presents his or her report. If there is a surplus, it is donated to the bereaved or the couple as the case may be. If there are debts, the committee deliberates on how to settle them. There are no laws governing these undertakings. Increasingly, in urban settings, the activities are multiethnic thus we cannot say they are governed by tribal law. This is the primordial public—scrupulously honest and conscientious. This in the country with arguably the most corrupt states in the world. Same people.
You see, the state realm was a colonial imposition. It divided Africans broadly into those who resisted, and those who embraced it. Moral values do not apply in the sphere of oppression. The same applies to those who embraced it. Theirs was opportunism. They were motivated primarily by material gain. Both united in subverting it but for different reasons, as Ekeh explains:
“The African who evaded his tax was a hero; the African labourer who beat up his whjte employer was given extensive coverage in newspapers. In general, the African bourgeois class, in and out of politics, encouraged the common man to shirk his duties to the government or else to define them as burdens; in the same breath he was encouraged to demand his rights. Such strategy, one must repeat, was a necessary sabotage against alien personnel whom the African bourgeois class wanted to replace.”
The state realm was a colonial imposition. It divided Africans broadly into those who resisted, and those who embraced it. Moral values do not apply in the sphere of oppression. The same applies to those who embraced it. Theirs was opportunism. They were motivated primarily by material gain. Both united in subverting it but for different reasons…
Now that the African bourgeoisie has made an appearance, it is opportune to elaborate on it. A bourgeoisie is a capitalist class. In Europe, the bourgeoisie is the social class which emerged both as cause and consequence of the industrial revolution and capitalist development.
“In the course of colonization a new bourgeois class emerged in Africa composed of Africans who acquired Western education in the hands of the colonizers, and their missionary collaborators, and who accordingly were the most exposed to European colonial ideologies of all groups of Africans. Although native to Africa, the African bourgeois class depends on colonialism for its legitimacy. It accepts the principles implicit in colonialism but it rejects the foreign personnel that ruled Africa. It claims to be competent enough to rule, but it has no traditional legitimacy. In order to replace the colonizers and rule its own people it has invented a number of interest-begotten theories to justify that rule. I shall call the ideologies advanced by this new emergent bourgeois class in Africa the African bourgeois ideologies of legitimation.”
The bourgeoisie is associated with wealth creation and materialism.
The African bourgeoisie’s legitimising ideology is, I think, encapsulated by that ubiquitous political mantra “maendeleo.” Maendeleo is not development. Literary, maendeleo is to get rid of backwardness, to become modern. To drink busaa and chang’aa is not maendeleo. Beer and whisky is maendeleo. The maendeleo ideology is what Chinua Achebe characterizes as a “cargo cult mentality,” a “tendency among the ruling elite to live in a world of make-believe and unrealistic expectations”.
Ekeh has introduced another important concept that needs a remark or two, and this is the idea of legitimation. Legitimation is the process of making something morally acceptable to society. Legitimation is also about assuaging one’s conscience that there is a just cause behind unjust things. The legitimation of colonialism entailed presenting it as a civilizing mission, casting African ways as barbaric and backward, and Christianity and westernization as progress, bringing light to the heart of darkness. The African bourgeoisie’s predicament can be put as follows. It lacked the leadership credentials in the primordial public sphere—that belonged to the traditional rulers who colonialism had emasculated. Its power and comfort zone was in the state public—the amoral domain of oppression. How to square this circle?:
“Anti-colonialism did not in fact mean opposition to the perceived ideals and principles of Western institutions. On the contrary, a great deal of anti-colonialism was predicated on the manifest acceptance of these ideals and principles, accompanied by the insistence that conformity with them indicated a level of achievement that ought to earn the new educated Africans the right to the leadership of their country. Ultimately, the source of legitimacy for the new African leadership has become alien. Anti-colonialism was against alien colonial personnel but glaringly pro foreign ideals and principles.”
The African bourgeoisie’s legitimising ideology is, I think, encapsulated by that ubiquitous political mantra “maendeleo.” Maendeleo is not development. Literary, maendeleo is to get rid of backwardness, to become modern. To drink busaa and chang’aa is not maendeleo. Beer and whisky is maendeleo. The maendeleo ideology is what Chinua Achebe characterizes as a “cargo cult mentality,” a “tendency among the ruling elite to live in a world of make-believe and unrealistic expectations.”
Maendeleo ideology was and in many ways remains a fig leaf to cover the political nakedness of the African bourgeoisie, its inability to provide leadership on foundational questions of nation-building, among them how to transform the amoral state public sphere into an authentic values-based governance realm. To ask these questions was, still is, to become an enemy of maendeleo. To persist was, still is, to invite repercussions. There is perhaps no better specimen of the moral and intellectual crisis of the post-colonial African bourgeoisie than the ideological, political and economic incoherence of the (in)famous Sessional Paper No.10 of 1965 (African Socialism and its Application to Planning in Kenya).
Let us now consider the dialectics of the two publics. Dialectics simply means logic, or the process of reasoned inquiry. This will lead us directly into the subject of corruption.
On Friday you are hobnobbing with diplomats showing off your western sophistication, next day, you are being installed as a tribal elder adorned in monkey skins and porcupine quills Come Sunday, you are a suited picture of Christian piety buying indulgencies with money stolen from poor people. You are restless, troubled souls. This is what Ekeh means by psychic turbulence.
“Most educated Africans are citizens of two publics in the same society. The dialectical tensions and confrontations between these two publics constitute the uniqueness of modern African politics. A good citizen of the primordial public gives out and asks for nothing in return; a lucky citizen of the civic public gains from the civic public but enjoys escaping giving anything in return whenever he can. But such a lucky man would not be a good man were he to channel all his lucky gains to his private purse. He will only continue to be a good man if he channels part of the largesse from the civic public to the primordial public. That is the logic of the dialectics. The unwritten law of the dialectics is that it is legitimate to rob the civic public in order to strengthen the primordial public. (my emphasis)
“The native sector has become a primordial reservoir of moral obligations, a public entity which one works to preserve and benefit. The Westernized sector has become an amoral civic public from which one seeks to gain, if possible, in order to benefit the moral primordial public. Although the African gives materially as part of his duties to the primordial public, what he gains back is not material. He gains back intangible, immaterial benefits in the form of identity or psychological security. The pressure of modern life takes its toll in intangible ways. Behind the serenity and elegance of deportment that come with education and high office lie waves of psychic turbulence—not least of which are widespread and growing beliefs in supernatural magical powers. The primordial public is fed from this turbulence.”
I would like to believe that you recognize this description. Let me illustrate. On Friday you are hobnobbing with diplomats showing off your western sophistication, next day, you are being installed as a tribal elder adorned in monkey skins and porcupine quills Come Sunday, you are a suited picture of Christian piety buying indulgencies with money stolen from poor people. You are restless, troubled souls. This is what Ekeh means by psychic turbulence.
Corruption is a sine qua non of the post-colonial African State. You, ladies and gentlemen, are its handmaidens. Its unwritten law is that it is legitimate to rob the civic public in order to strengthen the primordial public. Until this law is repealed, so it will remain.
This then is the pathology of corruption. Corruption is a sine qua non of the post-colonial African State. You, ladies and gentlemen, are its handmaidens. Its unwritten law is that it is legitimate to rob the civic public in order to strengthen the primordial public. Until this law is repealed, so it will remain.
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Haiti: The Struggle for Democracy, Justice, Reparations and the Black Soul
Only the Haitian people can decide their own future. The dictatorship imposed by former president Jovenel Moïse and its imperialist enablers need to go – and make space for a people’s transition government.
Haiti is once again going through a profound crisis. Central to this is the struggle against the dictatorship imposed by former president Jovenel Moïse. Since last year Mr. Moise, after decreeing the dismissal of Parliament, has been ruling through decrees, permanently violating Haiti’s constitution. He has refused to leave power after his mandate ended on February 7, 2021, claiming that it ends on February 7 of next year, without any legal basis.
This disregard of the constitution is taking place despite multiple statements by the country’s main judicial bodies, such as the CSPJ (Superior Council of Judicial Power) and the Association of Haitian Lawyers. Numerous religious groups and numerous institutions that are representative of society have also spoken. At this time, there is a strike by the judiciary, which leaves the country without any public body of political power.
At the same time, this institutional crisis is framed in the insecurity that affects practically all sectors of Haitian society. An insecurity expressed through savage repressions of popular mobilizations by the PNH (Haitian National Police), which at the service of the executive power. They have attacked journalists and committed various massacres in poor neighborhoods. Throughout the country, there have been assassinations and arbitrary arrests of opponents.
Most recently, a judge of the High Court was detained under the pretext of promoting an alleged plot against the security of the State and to assassinate the president leading to the illegal and arbitrary revocation of three judges of this Court. This last period has also seen the creation of hundreds of armed groups that spread terror over the entire country and that respond to power, transforming kidnapping into a fairly prosperous industry for these criminals.
The 13 years of military occupation by United Nations troops through MINUSTAH and the operations of prolongation of guardianship through MINUJUSTH and BINUH have aggravated the Haitian crisis. They supported retrograde and undemocratic sectors who, along with gangsters, committed serious crimes against the Haitian people and their fundamental rights.
For this, the people of Haiti deserve a process of justice and reparations. They have paid dearly for the intervention of MINUSTAH: 30 THOUSAND DEAD from cholera transmitted by the soldiers, thousands of women raped, who now raise orphaned children. Nothing has changed in 13 years, more social inequality, poverty, more difficulties for the people. The absence of democracy stays the same.
The poor’s living conditions have worsened dramatically as a result of more than 30 years of neoliberal policies imposed by the International Financial Institutions (IFIs), a severe exchange rate crisis, the freezing of the minimum wage, and inflation above 20% during the last three years.
It should be emphasized that, despite this dramatic situation, the Haitian people remain firm and are constantly mobilizing to prevent the consolidation of a dictatorship by demanding the immediate leave of office by former President Jovenel Moïse.
Taking into account the importance of this struggle and that this dictatorial regime still has the support of imperialist governments such as the United States of America, Canada, France, and international organizations such as the UN, the OAS, and the EU, the IPA calls its members to contribute their full and active solidarity to the struggle of the Haitian people, and to sign this Petition that demands the end of the dictatorship as well as respect for the sovereignty and self-determination of the Haitian people, the establishment of a transition government led by Haitians to launch a process of authentic national reconstruction.
In addition to expressing our solidarity with the Haitian people’s resistance, we call for our organisations to demonstrate in front of the embassies of the imperialist countries and before the United Nations. Only the Haitian people can decide their future. Down with Moise and yes to a people’s transition government, until a constituent is democratically elected.
Deconstructing the Whiteness of Christ
While many African Christians can only imagine a white Jesus, others have actively promoted a vision of a brown or black Jesus, both in art and in ideology.
When images of a white preacher and actor going around Kenya playing Jesus turned up on social media in July 2019, people were rightly stunned by the white supremacist undertone of the images. They suggested that Africans were prone to seeing Jesus as white, promoting the white saviour narrative in the process. While it is true that the idea of a white Jesus has been prevalent in African Christianity even without a white actor, and many African Christians and churches still entertain images of Jesus as white because of the missionary legacy, many others have actively promoted a vision of Jesus as brown or black both in art an in ideology.
Images of a brown or black Jesus is as old as Christianity in Africa, especially finding a prominent place in Ethiopian Orthodox Church, which has been in existence for over sixteen hundred years. Eyob Derillo, a librarian at the British Library, recently brought up a steady diet of these images on Twitter. The image of Jesus as black has also been popularised through the artistic project known as Vie de Jesus Mafa (Life of Jesus Mafa) that was conducted in Cameroon.
The most radical expression of Jesus as a black person was however put forth by a young Kongolese woman called Kimpa Vita, who lived in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth century. Through the missionary work of the Portuguese, Kimpa Vita, who was a nganga or medicine woman, became a Christian. She taught that Jesus and his apostles were black and were in fact born in São Salvador, which was the capital of the Kongo at the time. Not only was Jesus transposed from Palestine to São Salvador, Jerusalem, which is a holy site for Christians, was also transposed to São Salvador, so that São Salvador became a holy site. Kimpa Vita was accused of preaching heresy by Portuguese missionaries and burnt at the stake in 1706.
It was not until the 20th century that another movement similar to Vita’s emerged in the Kongo. This younger movement was led by Simon Kimbangu, a preacher who went about healing and raising the dead, portraying himself as an emissary of Jesus. His followers sometimes see him as the Holy Spirit who was to come after Jesus, as prophesied in John 14:16. Just as Kimpa Vita saw São Salvador as the new Jerusalem, Kimbangu’s village of Nkamba became, and still is known as, the new Jerusalem. His followers still flock there for pilgrimage. Kimbangu was accused of threatening Belgian colonial rule and thrown in jail, where he died. Some have complained that Kimbangu seems to have eclipsed Jesus in the imagination of his followers for he is said to have been resurrected from the dead, like Jesus.
Kimbangu’s status among his followers is however similar to that of some of the leaders of what has been described as African Independent Churches or African Initiated Churches (AICs). These churches include the Zionist churches of Southern Africa, among which is the amaNazaretha of Isaiah Shembe. Shembe’s followers see him as a divine figure, similar to Jesus, and rather than going to Jerusalem for pilgrimage, his followers go to the holy city of Ekuphakameni in South Africa. The Cameroonian theologian, Fabien Eboussi Boulaga, in his Christianity Without Fetish, see leaders like Kimbangu and Shembe as doing for their people in our own time what Jesus did for his people in their own time—providing means of healing and deliverance in contexts of grinding oppression. Thus, rather than replacing Jesus, as they are often accused of doing, they are making Jesus relevant to their people. For many Christians in Africa, therefore, Jesus is already brown or black. Other Christians still need to catch up with this development if we are to avoid painful spectacles like the one that took place Kenya.
In Magufuli’s Shadow: The Stark Choices Facing Tanzania’s New President
One immediate concern is what steps Hassan will take on the pandemic, and whether she will change direction.
The sudden death of Tanzania’s President John Pombe Magufuli has thrown the East African nation into a period of political uncertainty.
Vice-president, Samia Suluhu Hassan, has been sworn in as his successor, making her Tanzania’s first woman president.
The transition is all the more challenging given the major rupture – both political and economic – caused by Magufuli’s presidency. Magufuli, who won a second term in October 2020, dramatically centralised power and pursued an interventionist economic policy agenda. He courted controversy on a number of fronts, most recently, by claiming that Tanzania – contrary to mounting evidence – was Covid-free.
Hassan has called for unity and counselled that now is not the time to look at what has passed but rather to look at what is to come.
Despite the 61-year-old leader’s forward-looking stance, questions remain about how Magufuli’s legacy will shape her time in office.
The authoritarian turn
Magufuli oversaw the marginalisation of opposition parties and a decline in civil liberties. His first term was defined by heightened intimidation and violence against opposition leaders, including disappearances and physical attacks.
Thanks to five years of repression, the October 2020 general elections saw the opposition all but wiped out of elected office. The ruling Chama Cha Mapinduzi now controls all local government councils. It also holds 97% of directly elected legislative seats, up from 73% in 2015.
But Magufuli’s authoritarian tendencies were not unprecedented in Tanzania. For instance, the rule of his predecessor Jakaya Kikwete was also marred by human rights abuses as well civil society and media repression. Kikwete also cancelled Zanzibar’s 2015 election due to a likely opposition victory.
It remains to be seen whether Hassan will adopt a more liberal approach, loosening restrictions on opposition parties, the media and civil society. Even if she does, the damage will take time to repair. Opposition parties, for instance, may well struggle to regain their strength. Among other setbacks, they have lost almost all local elected representatives – a core element of their organisational infrastructure built up painstakingly over decades.
Centralising power in the party
Another key pillar to Magufuli’s legacy is the centralisation of power within the Chama Cha Mapinduzi.
In the early years under founding president Julius Nyerere, Tanzania’s ruling party was dominated by the president and a hierarchy of appointed state and party officials. But, following economic liberalisation in the 1980s and Nyerere’s retirement from politics, the party became steeped in factional rivalries. These were spurred by new political alliances and an emerging private sector business elite.
This factionalism reached its height under Kikwete amid accusations of widespread corruption. Magufuli’s nomination as party presidential candidate only occurred because the rivalry among these factions left him as the unexpected compromise candidate.
Once in office, though, Magufuli quickly signalled he would be nobody’s puppet. He used his position as ruling party chairman to create a “new” Chama Cha Mapinduzi. This involved breaking with party heavyweights, including Kikwete, suppressing factional organising, and consolidating his own support base.
Magufuli’s new base was a cohort of freshly appointed party officials as well as civil servants and cabinet ministers. His loyalists likened these changes to a revival of Nyerere’s Chama Cha Mapinduzi. But, in our view, the comparison is misleading.
Like Magufuli before her, Hassan will be taking office – and party leadership – without her own political base. She will also have to contend with revived factional manoeuvring as sidelined groups try to regain an upper hand.
Hassan could align with a loyal Magufuli faction, which includes influential figures within the party. But, early indications suggest she intends to follow the advice of “party elders”, notably Kikwete. The former president reportedly attended the party’s most recent central committee meeting on Hassan’s invitation.
Aligning herself with Kikwete will likely lead to the reemergence of the internal factional rivalries that characterised the former president’s tenure.
Implications for economic policy
If president Hassan does continue to take a political steer from Kikwete, one likely outcome is that there will be a change in economic policy. In particular, a return to growth that’s led by a more business-friendly approach to the private sector.
Calls are already being made for such a course of action..
A careful reassessment of the Magufuli era is needed to guide future policymaking.
Magufuli used his control over the ruling party to pursue an ambitious policy agenda. This was also linked to his political project of centralising power.
Although this trend actually began under Kikwete, Magufuli accelelrated a move towards more state-led investment. Under his leadership, both state-owned and, increasingly, military-owned enterprises were offered strategic contracts.
Many state enterprises remained cash-starved, relied on government financial support, and registered losses.
Alongside state investment, the president also sought to discipline private sector actors. Some observers suggest that this led to more productive investment, notably by domestic investors. But others point to renewed crony capitalist ties.
Magufuli’s most high profile corporate battle was against Canadian-owned Barrick Gold and its former subsidiary, Acacia Mining. From the two, he demanded USD$190 billion in tax arrears and a renegotiation of operating terms.
Many saw this resource-nationalist approach as an inspiration and a model for African countries seeking to take greater control of their mineral wealth. But in the end – partly due to externally imposed legal and economic constraints – Magufuli walked back on some of his demands. Instead he opted for cooperation rather than confrontation.
He negotiated a joint venture in which Barrick took a majority stake of 84% and Tanzania the remaining 16%. Key elements of the nationalistic mining legislation passed in 2017 were also reversed.
On the plus side gold overtook tourism as Tanzania’s biggest foreign-exchange earner. In addition, some small-scale miners saw their livelihoods improve. Results were more mixed elsewhere, especially for Tanzanite miners in the country’s north.
Ultimately, Magufuli leaves behind a mixed economic legacy. It combines misdirected authoritarian decision-making with positive efforts to pursue an active industrial policy. Reining in unproductive domestic investors and renegotiating adverse contracts with foreign investors were part of this agenda.
There is a risk, given this complex mix, that Tanzania’s policymakers may learn the wrong lessons from his presidency, leading back to the flawed model existing before.
The pandemic and beyond
One immediate concern is what steps Hassan will take on the pandemic, and whether she will change direction.
Whatever she does, the health emergency and associated economic crisis will likely define her presidency. It could indeed define the economic trajectory of the African region in years to come.
Both Kikwete and Magufuli ruled through an economic boom period. Commodity prices were high and access to international finance was fairly easy. This gave them latitude to choose between various development approaches.
If Tanzania reverts to the status quo of the Kikwete years, the risk is a reemergence of rent-seeking but without the same highly favourable economic growth conditions. Indeed, as external conditions worsen, Hassan may find her options far more limited.
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