Few things have been condemned as regularly as corruption in Nigerian debate. Chinua Achebe wrote about it in the 1960s, Fela sang about it in the 1970s, every politician has vowed to fight it. Going by public statements, there is not a single Nigerian who supports corruption. Yet here we are, in a reality at odds with decades of declarations. How can something everybody says they oppose be so widespread? To counter a social practice, it is important to understand the motivations of those who engage in it. It is also important to discuss things honestly; disingenuous debate leads nowhere. Personally, I can easily understand why Nigerians in a position to do so, engage in corruption.
Frankly speaking, by the time I finished secondary school in Abacha-era Nigeria, I was as corrupt-minded as any crooked Nigerian politician. If you had put me in charge of public funds then, I would probably have embezzled as much as I could. Why? Well, apart from a banal desire for material comfort and an assumption I could likely get away with it, I would have done so because I had observed that the people most esteemed in my environment were those with money, irrespective of its source.
What my parents had told me about the value of honesty was not reflected in the reality around me. The most esteemed of my peers were not the most brilliant or most honest ones, but the sons and daughters of the Generals and their friends who we all knew were looting the country. They stood atop our teenage social hierarchy. They enjoyed a commodity that is very valuable in Nigeria because it is carefully rationed: respect.
Anthropologists suggest most societies fall into one of two broad cultural categories: dignity cultures and honour cultures.The starting emphasis of dignity cultures is on all individuals possessing an intrinsic worth independent the opinions of others. While the practise may vary, in principle, the key idea is that every human being, for the mere fact of being human, is inherently valuable, and this value cannot be taken away by others in society. It is inalienable, even when your actions are socially unacceptable.
Hence, in contemporary Western societies, which are generally dignity cultures, it is expected even prisoners convicted of the most heinous crimes, including murder and paedophilia, are entitled to a basic level of dignity. The concept of “human rights” derives from this idea that every human possesses inherent value irrespective the context of their circumstance. In dignity cultures, social interactions are expected to be an exchange between equals while good behaviour is incentivised via a rule of law applicable to all.
Honour cultures, on the other hand, emphasize the importance of reputation and esteem. Your value is not derived automatically from your status as a human being but is socially-conferred. It is thus strongly dependent on the opinions of others in society who can grant or withdraw their esteem at any time. In honour cultures, you must thus constantly strive to earn and maintain your esteem in society. Things like insults and personal affronts cannot be taken lightly as they are public tests of who can do what to whom. Each honour culture adopts its own criteria for granting or denying esteem. I think it is safe to say present-day Nigeria is significantly more an honour culture than a dignity culture with the main qualification for esteem being wealth. This is no coincidence. Honour cultures thrive where the state is too weak to settle disputes between citizens, protect them from predatory exploitation and generally enforce the rule of law.Consequently, who can do what is determined by the esteem conferred on them by society rather than any standardized system of rules.
Aside desiring material comfort, the desperation for esteem is a major driving force pushing many Nigerians into all sorts of illegalities just to become wealthy. The emergence of my generational peers as“Yahoo-Yahoo boys” in the early 2000s reflected – alongside a lack of job opportunities -a response by young men from non-affluent backgrounds who craved the respect society accorded their peers from privileged (often corrupt) homes. “We may not be from rich or well-known families, but we have made money, so show us respect too,” was their general demand.
The point is not to justify such actions or to blame society for all those who engage in illegalities, the point is to understand the fundamental emotions that often drive such behaviour. In the corruption debate, we often hear about the need to “build strong institutions” that can implement preventative measures. Indeed, strong laws and institutions are indispensable. But in the end, what are institutions but buildings with people in them? It is what the flesh-and-blood people working in courthouses, ministries and police-stations do on a daily basis that shapes institutions. You can introduce the most sophisticated anti-corruption rules in the world, but if people in institution X are determined to render them ineffective, they will find creative ways to do so as current reality shows us. The key lies in combining strong anti-corruption measures with an environment where people are not so desperate to “hammer” and willing to do so at any cost to wider society.
In my view, this requires a two-pronged approach. Clearly, an economic transformation is indispensable to any realistic dreams of reducing corruption in Nigeria, particularly its lower-level manifestations.Expecting people to cease practises they consider necessary to their everyday survival – like the bus driver who “settles” poorly-paid policemen on his route to avoid unnecessary delays – is asking a bit much. Meanwhile, getting to the point where corruption isn’t necessary for survival would require not just headline GDP growth but a wholesale transformation of Nigeria’s crony capitalist system with its in-built lack of opportunities for the majority.
The other step, much easier than the first, would be to offer Nigerians dignity free of charge. It costs me nothing to treat everyone I encounter respectfully, so why should I hoard my respect like a supply of yams that may one day run out? Why should a hard-working plumber not be esteemed by society? If people are made to feel valuable in of themselves, they will feel less of a need to try and command respect via external possessions. Deep down, all most people want is to be treated fairly, like equals. Surely that’s not too much to ask, is it?
Remi Adekoya
Dr Adekoya is a journalist and political scientist. He has written for the UK Guardian, Foreign Policy, Foreign Affairs,Washington Post and Politico among others.
