Former Sussex students, Jonathan Benton and David Ugolor, are now actively taking the anti-corruption fight forward in Nigeria. They explain more about their work here.
We’re into the third year of President Buhari’s term in office, elections loom. For those not familiar with Nigerian politics, President Buhari was elected fair and square on an anti-corruption ticket. The last lot were awful. I (Jonathan) know, I investigated the person who was undoubtedly the most powerful woman in Nigeria (at the time), Diezani Alison Madueke, the former oil minister. Former Central Bank Governor, now the Emir of Kano State, Saraki, put the loss in oil revenues from corruption during her term in office at US$40bn. That’s right, $40bn!
David and I were post-graduates under Prof. Dan Hough and Dr Liz David-Barrett’s tutelage. Prior to Sussex, we were both active anti-corruption professionals, Sussex honed, tamed and educated us. David has over a quarter of a century of anti-corruption campaigning under his belt. I was a Scotland Yard detective who landed the best job in the world, head of the UK’s grand corruption and illicit money flows enforcement unit – the Proceeds of Corruption Unit, later the International Corruption Unit. It was such an amazing job I stayed there for nearly a decade.
What do you get if you cross anti-corruption activists with mathematicians? It’s no joke. This was exactly what we did in Cape Coast, Ghana, recently, bringing these two groups together to analyse procurement data for evidence of corruption ‘red flags’ in a two-day hackathon at AIMS Ghana.
By Liz Dávid-Barrett (University of Sussex) and Mihály Fazekas (University of Cambridge).
Follow us on Twitter @corruption_red
The anti-corruption world has a tendency to pin its hopes on transparency as a solution, and recently in particular on the idea that big data will revolutionise the fight against corruption. The logic is compelling. Whereas we always relied heavily on subjective perceptions to measure corruption, big data allows for more objective evidence about how – and how much – administrative procedures are subverted and manipulated.
But some profound obstacles remain. The most obvious is that, before data can be analysed, it needs to be collected. Yet many governments – especially in developing countries – struggle to collect relevant data of a reasonable quality.
“Football is not a matter of life or death” claimed Bill Shankly, an iconic former manager of Liverpool football club, “it’s far more important than that”. Shankly, ever able to come up with a memorable line, was certainly over-egging that particular pudding, but the importance of football to billions of people around the planet shouldn’t be ignored.
Football is also, of course, a multi-billion dollar business. There is serious money to be made both within the game (i.e. the salaries that top players earn) and from without it (i.e. via advertising contracts, sponsoring opportunities and such like). It’s with that in mind that FIFA, the governing body of world football, is trying to take steps to make sure that the decisions the officials on the field take are correct.
Former Sussex student Juan Leopoldo Martinez explains why investigative journalism really does need to be at the forefront of the anti-corruption fight
When facing state, judicial or parliamentary inertia or a lack of effectiveness in fighting corruption, investigative journalism is one of the main tools societies have left to fight graft. However, investigative journalists face two main problems when trying to do justice to this honourable aim.
The first is the overflow of information in societies that receive important news minute by minute. This becomes an obstacle to in-depth research; there is no time for details, only for the next major event that happens somewhere in the world.
When does an anti-corruption campaign do enough to justify the claims made of its supporters? How, in other words, can we know that anti-corruption campaigns really are about tackling corruption? SCSC Director Dan Hough outlines how we might begin to see the wood for the trees.
Anti-corruption campaigns are once again in the news. Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman (or MbS, as he is often known), the ambitious heir to the Saudi throne, is at the centre of the most recent attempt by a country to root out high-profile corruption. MbS heads up a new, powerful anti-corruption committee that, within hours of its creation, prompted the arrest of a clutch of rich, powerful and previously untouchable Saudi princes and assorted others. Even close family members of King Salman have not been exempted; two of the King’s nephews have been detained as has the brother-in-law of the late King Fahd (who passed away in 2005). 30 plus members of the ultra-elite are now in some form of custody. MbS appears to mean business.
In the first week of November the United States announced that it would cease to implement the Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative (EITI), thus choosing to exit an international club that has spread the norm of transparency with considerable success. In this post, Liz David-Barrett reflects on what this means for extractives globally and what it tells us about how international norms spread.
The EITI is a voluntary initiative through which governments commit to disclose the payments they receive from companies in the extractives sector – oil, gas, forestry and mining – as well as simultaneously compelling the companies operating on their territory to publish what they pay. The logic is that this transparency, overseen by a multi-stakeholder group comprising government, the private sector and civil society should help to curb corruption. That in turn will mean that more of the revenues earned from resource wealth reach the people, combating the ‘resource curse’.
There is a lively debate on whether the EITI works or not. Some researchers argue that it is not much more than ‘cheap talk’, a cynical effort to signal good intentions on which governments never follow through. The EITI is seen as a sham particularly in countries where governments repress civil society, undermining the ability of the multi-stakeholder group to hold the key actors to account. Then again, the fact that US oil companies fought it so hard – the withdrawal is a victory for companies that lobbied to keep their tax affairs secret – suggests that implementation of the EITI standard does change the power balance among citizens, governments and companies.
One of the reasons a national budget speech is such an important occasion is that it reflects the mood, goals and priorities of the administration. A budget speech transforms political rhetoric and campaign promises into concrete policies that address practical problems. In Lesotho, and other developing countries, the speech provides a benchmark against which development partners can gauge how far politicians are prepared to go, to literally put money where their mouths are.
Last week, Lesotho’s newly appointed minister of finance, Dr Moeketsi Majoro, a former employee of the IMF, made his maiden budget speech, and emphasised once again the new government’s commitment to the fight against corruption and wasteful spending. The four political parties in this coalition government — the second in three years — campaigned on a strong anti-corruption ticket.
Depoliticising bureaucracy and strengthening procurement regulations are some of the measures that the new administration is lining up to tackle endemic graft. Perhaps, the clearest sign of commitment to anti-corruption is the 40 per cent increase in the budget of the Directorate on Corruption and Economic Offences (DCEO).