Documenti di Didattica
Documenti di Professioni
Documenti di Cultura
Ethnos: Journal of
Anthropology
Publication details, including
instructions for authors and subscription
information:
http://www.tandfonline.com/loi/retn20
To cite this article: Daniel Jordan Smith (2001) Kinship and Corruption in
Contemporary Nigeria, Ethnos: Journal of Anthropology, 66:3, 344-364,
DOI: 10.1080/00141840120095131
N
igeria is notorious for corruption. International monitors annually
rank it one of the most corrupt states in the w orld. A widely cited
watch-group, Transparency International, reported that in 2000, Ni-
geria was perceived to be the most corrupt among 90 countries rated based
on the organizations Corruption Perceptions Index. The Corruption Percep-
tions Index is calculated from 1 6 different polls and survey s from 8 inde-
pendent institutions carried out among business people, the general public
and country analy sts (Transparency International 2000). Transparency In-
ternational defines corruption as the abuse of public office for private gain.
Like many (usually implicit) definitions of corruption, it focuses primarily on
the state as the locus of corruption and works from the presumption that
corruption is bad usually implying bad for democracy and development.
With Nigerias vast oil reserves and its widely acknow ledged wealth of
human resources, the country s failure to develop is routinely attributed to
the ills of corruption (Achebe 1 98 3 ; Nw ankwo 1 999). In the name of politi-
cal and economic development, multilateral lending institutions and bilat-
eral donors, such as The World Bank, the imf, and usaid, have consistently
attempted to promote accountability and transparency, whether it be through
structural adjustment, democracy and good governance programs, or sup-
port for civil society. Explaining the widely acknowledged failure of efforts
to curtail corruption in Nigeria requires an approach that accounts for the
Downloaded by [University of Tasmania] at 03:30 15 November 2014
the importance of such ties may be grow ing rather than withering aw ay as
Nigeria tries to modernize and democratize in a context of economic insta-
bility. Yet even an argument that says what outsiders perceive as corruption
sometimes looks like moral behavior to local actors does not do justice to
the complexity of the situation, for Igbos too (and, indeed, Nigerians gener-
ally) are keen critics of corruption in their country. A deep-seated ambiva-
lence is created as the reciprocal obligations of kinship and place of origin
articulate with structures of pow er and inequality that characterize contem-
porary Nigerian society. People condemn the very practices in which they
Downloaded by [University of Tasmania] at 03:30 15 November 2014
participate and lament the effects of a system they feel obliged to reproduce.
The trouble with Nigeria is simply and squarely a failure of leadership. There is
nothing basically wrong with the Nigerian character (Achebe 1 98 3 :1 ).
The basic reference unit in Nigeria, as elsewhere in Africa, remains family- and
kin-based: it is the fundamental circle of trust within which individuals operate...
Political elites seek to establish principles of mutual aid, of patron-client reciproc-
ity, based on the model of kin and family relations (1 999:27 ).
There is little disputing the fact that individuals at the to p of the social hierarchy
benefit disproportionately from the prevailing mode of interest-association. Yet,
while making such an assertion, we should not overlook the fact that support for
these arrangements is generated at all levels of the hierarchy (1 98 7 :7 ).
He describes a:
pronounced tendency in Nigeria for individuals to seek support from their better-
placed kinfolk in the pursuit of the most basic economic and political goods. It is
therefore necessary to correct the tendency to underemphasize the part played by
non-elites in Africa in sustaining certain dominant patterns of socio-political be-
havior even though they seem to benefit so little from it (1 98 7 :7 ).
While Jo sephs point is theoretically compelling and resonates with the way
Nigerians have often described to me the workings of politics and patron-
clientism in their society, neither his nor Chabal and Dalozs account pro-
vides empirical examples of how patron-clientism is practiced and socially
reproduced in everyday life among lay people. Nor do they account adequately
for the tremendous ambivalence many Nigerians at all socio-economic lev-
els feel about this sy stem of patronage that binds and obligates individuals to
their kin, communities, and ethnic groups. In the cases presented below , I
explore practices of corruption among Igbo-speaking people in Nigeria by
examining everyday instances of patronage. In addition to describing the social
and moral fabric of corruption, I try to understand the ambivalence that is
created as the reciprocal obligations of kinship articulate with structures of
of public office for private gain assumes a rigid dichotomy betw een public
and private that glosses over a complexity that characterizes the relationship
between individual and society in Nigeria. Among the Igbo people I studied,
the very nature of personhood is grounded in relationships with family , kin-
group, and community of origin (cf. Piot 1 999). The motives of individual
actors are inextricably tied to the interests of the social groups to w hich they
belong. Joseph aptly illuminates this in the realm of political action when he
states:
works of reciprocity and obligation that had their roots in the family , the
lineage, and the local community. Access to educational opportunities, em-
ploy ment, urban migration, government contracts, and community devel-
opment services depended upon having patrons connected to the state and
the wider economy (Smith 1 999). To prosper required the help of ones peo-
ple; one wanted to prosper, in large measure, in order to help, impress, and
increase ones standing among ones people. While Westerners tend to think
of modernity as privileging individuality and increasing the atomism of in-
dividuals vis--vis the extended family and the community , this is, in many
Downloaded by [University of Tasmania] at 03:30 15 November 2014
ized, but individuals regularly feel pressure to help their people. These obli-
gations extend beyond the patrilineage to include ones mothers people (umunne),
ones in-laws (ndiogo), and a range of other allies and supporters created by
ties of residence and association (Uchendu 1 965 ). Reciprocal obligations include
an expectation that those who accumulate wealth redistribute some of it in
exchange for recognition and prestige. These principles have their roots in
pre-colonial Igbo social organization and provide part of the foundation for
contemporary patterns of patron-clientism (Green 1 947 ; Smock 1 971 ; Hen-
derson 1 97 2 ).
Downloaded by [University of Tasmania] at 03:30 15 November 2014
Case Study 1
Benjamin and Ifeoma are Igbos from Ubakala living in Lagos.3 Benjamin
struggles to make a small photocopying business profitable, while Ifeoma
Downloaded by [University of Tasmania] at 03:30 15 November 2014
has a steady but low-pay ing clerical job at a bank. They have been mar-
ried more than 1 2 y ears and have four children.
When their eldest daughter, Nneka, completed primary school, Benjamin
and Ifeoma had aspirations that she would be admitted to a selective fed-
eral government secondary school. Nneka was an excellent student, regu-
larly finishing first or second in her class of forty. Nnekas parents w anted
a particular federal school close to Umuahia because it had a good repu-
tation and Benjamins relatives in Ubakala could assist in looking out for
their daughter.
Nneka scored well on her secondary school admissions test, but not well
enough to gain entrance to the federal school her parents wanted. Soon
after the scores came out, and it was clear that Nneka did not get auto-
matic admission, Benjamin asked me if I would talk to the principal to see
if Nneka could be admitted on her discretionary list. He thought I might
have some clout because I had just recently conducted a study in Umuahia
secondary schools as part of my research and therefore knew officials in
the Ministry of Education; I was affiliated with Abia State University and
therefore had status in the world of higher education; and he thought I
knew a lot of Big Men in Umuahia. I did not know the principal, but Ben-
jamin hoped my influence would be great enough any way.
I went to visit the principal. Essentially , I was asking her to grant Nneka
admission based on who I was. She refused. When I reported the results of
my visit to Benjamin and Ifeoma they did not seem all that surprised. Ben-
jamin said: She w as afraid because y ou are a white. She just wanted to
hide everything from y ou. Instead of the profound disappointment I had
expected, Benjamin and Ifeoma were upbeat. Since I had last seen them,
Ifeoma found out that her sister had a friend in the Federal Ministry of
Education in Lagos. The woman in the Federal Ministry said that she would
try to get Nneka admitted through the Ministers discretionary list. In the
end, Benjamin and Ifeoma had to dash 4 the woman in the ministry a few
thousand naira (approximately $5 0, a considerable sum for average Nige-
rians) for securing Nneka a place.
offering money to get on the Ministers list would likely have been rejected
outright. Though when Nigerians are really angry about corruption they talk
about cases where people do sell access just for money.
But in general people are careful to circumvent state/ bureaucratic rules
among those they know and trust, partly out of fear that rules can be used
against them. More significantly , instances of corruption are far more likely
when they are undertaken as the fulfillment of expectations and obligations
to ones personal network of social relations especially kinship and affinal
relations. To accept money from a stranger to facilitate admission of a child
who is not qualified based on her exam result is wrong: the rules of the state
apply in such an impersonal case. To help y our relation get admission when
her scores were below the cut-off is expected and morally justified: the rules
of kinship, community and reciprocity apply when the stakes are personal/
communal.
peasant producers but on oil rents redistributed through the state apparatus
(Watts 1 992 :3 6). Central government control of and dependence on rents
associated w ith the oil industry intensified the vertical hierarchy of patron-
age networks and the importance of government contracts as a source of wealth
(Jo seph 1 987 ).
One of the striking things about the corrupt aw arding of contracts in Ni-
geria is that seemingly everyone knows exactly what is going on. Nigerians
assume that virtually every state-related decision or enterprise is corrupt.
Igbos tell stories of corruption with a combination of lament, resignation,
and humor. Talk about contracts and corruption inundates local discourse
about Nigerian business and politics. Such talk routinely lurches between
condemnation on the one hand (as people lament a road repair contract that
has been abandoned or concluded without noticeable improvements, won-
der how a country so rich in natural resources can be so poor, or speculate
about how a new political appointee will siphon government resources to
his own people) and conspiratorial anticipation on the other (as individuals
survey their social networks for an in with a new big man, plan a courtesy
call to a new official, or prepare a bid on a contract in hopes that family ,
community , or political connections will give them the inside track). People
share a sense that corruption has perpetuated poverty in a land of wealth,
and that only the rich get richer. Yet few people think things will change.
Although Nigerians recognize and condemn, in the abstract, the sy stem
of patronage that dominates the allocation of government resources, in practice
people feel locked in. One friend of mine, a university professor who was
appointed a state commissioner of agriculture, put it to me this way : Even if
I wanted to avoid the practice of aw arding contracts on the basis of favoritism,
I could not. My people would say that I am selfish and foolish. Who gets to
such a position of power and then refuses to help his people? Only the worst
kind of person. A man who enriches himself through emptying government
coffers is, in his community , despised only if he fails to share enough of that
wealth with his people through direct gifts to individuals and community
development projects, but also through more ceremonial distributions such
as lavish weddings for his children, spectacular burials for his parents, and
extravagant chieftancy installation ceremonies for himself. At such events
his people enjoy his wealth they chop (eat) his money.
The pressure on Big Men to be corrupt goes bey ond aw arding contracts
to ones relatives and cronies. One should also enrich oneself. To be a com-
missioner and not build a palatial house in the village would be to fail to fulfill
Downloaded by [University of Tasmania] at 03:30 15 November 2014
Case Study 2
Ike Nw odu is a married father of five who lives in Umuahia. One of his
relatives directed the World Bank-funded Abia State Agricultural Devel-
opment Program from 1 99495 and Ike was aw arded a substantial con-
tract about 4 million naira (almost $5 0,000) to supply some locally
fabricated machinery for palm kernel processing. Ike figured he would make
close to a 5 00,000-naira profit ($6,25 0) for himself at the end of the con-
tract after supplying the equipment and giving his relative his share.
In Ikes case this meant that his relative, the director, would receive
about 400,000 naira. Igbos often spoke of the 1 0 percent rule meaning
that one w as expected to kick back 1 0 percent of the total amount of any
contract to the person(s) who aw arded it. In the 1 990s, people began to
complain that commissioners, director-generals, directors, and military ad-
waiting for the final pay ment to repay debts to his own suppliers and pocket
his profit.
Unfortunately for Ike, as a result of the probe, his relative was sacked
and a new director appointed. When the World Bank finally lifted the freeze
on pay ment of outstanding debts to contractors and Ike went to collect,
he found that the new director wanted his own share in order to authorize
disbursement. In a sense, Ike was lucky. Other contractors had their con-
tracts voided. The Bank had approved his own for pay ment. But the delay
had caused his own creditors to become annoy ed, and the change of di-
rectors meant that almost all of his own profit was drained in paying off
the new man.
Ike vowed never again to seek a contract from a project funded by in-
ternational donors.
Case Study 3
Godwin Okoro is in his late 40s, married with five children. Godwin is
popularly known as World Biz short for World Business among his
friends, a praise name coined during his wealthier past. He hails from a
local government area that is the home of a former civilian governor. World
Biz is married to a woman from the former governors family, and during
the former governors tenure World Biz parlayed his affinal relationship
into a series of lucrative contracts. For a number of y ears World Biz w as a
wealthy man.
Times w ere leaner during the military regime. His patron was long out
of power. World Biz did not have a job, but still managed to scratch out a
living getting small contracts here and there. In 1 996, World Biz c am-
paigned hard for a particular candidate in his local government area chair-
manship elections. He used to tell me only half kidding that he was
the kingmaker behind the scenes. He also borrowed money from me and
others and assured us that when his candidate won he would be in money ,
man. He expec ted luc rative contracts in return for his mobilization of
followers.
His candidate won the election, but for months afterwards World Biz
complained that the man w as ungrateful. He used to make frequent visits
to the chairmans office in hopes of some sort of business deal. But the
chairman kept putting him off complaining about lack of funds, debts to
pay inherited from the last government, and increased state and federal
scrutiny of local government spending. At first World Biz accepted the
Downloaded by [University of Tasmania] at 03:30 15 November 2014
excuses and maintained hope. But eventually he concluded that the chair-
man had no intention of rewarding him. World Biz was bitter. The chair-
man was an ingrate, World Biz said, and he did not know politics.
Within a few months the military again dissolved the local government
councils. The chairman was out of office. Only weeks after that he died
unexpectedly of a heart attack. World Biz said it was Go ds w ay of punish-
ing him. He w as not a good man.
World Bizs expectation that he be rewarded was directly related to the fact
that he delivered his people in the chairmanship election. Given World Bizs
propensity to exaggerate on his own behalf, I have no way of knowing how
instrumental he was in securing the chairmans election. Perhaps the late chair-
man saw things quite differently. Regardless, World Biz was calling upon a
widely shared value in Nigerian politics that a man should be rewarded for
delivering his people.
While there is no doubt that elite Nigerians benefit disproportionately from
the current structures, these structures are only sustainable because they are
supported by a complex moral economy in which those at the top are for-
ever fulfilling obligations and duties to their followers and clients. In the first
case, Ikes kinship tie was crucial for securing the aw ard of the government
contract. When his relative was sacked Ikes contract w as in trouble. World
Bizs experience with his local government chairman illustrates that patrons
and clients do not alw ays agree on the extent of obligations. But World Bizs
interpretation of the chairmans death demonstrates the strength of belief in
the moral economy of patron-clientism. The fact that his affinal ties to the
last civilian governor proved much more beneficial shows how much more
secure one can be in ties created through marriage and kinship than in those
produced through purely political alliances.
Case Study 4
Odi Nw oke first migrated from Ubakala to Lagos in his twenties, before
the Nigerian civil war. He built a successful printing business and over the
years became quite rich. Like most of Ubakalas successful migrants, he
built a house in the village and came home several times a y ear to visit
family and participate in important soc ial events and ceremonies. He
maintained active membership in the Ubakala Improvement Union and
contributed appropriately to community development projects.
In the early 1 990s, during one of several of the militarys programs of
transition to civilian rule, Odi was selected for a directorship of the Abia
State arm of a government parastatal (an institution set up by government
which is ostensibly mostly independent of the government) by a political
patron he had cultivated over the y ears. At home in Ubakala his appoint-
ment was celebrated. The position enabled Odi to aw ard large business con-
tracts and build his personal fortune. During his brief tenure of 1 8 months,
Odi managed to enhance his position in Ubakala significantly through the
dispersing of favors, by increasing the level of his contributions to the Ubakala
Improvement Union, and through lavish spending on social ceremonies to
which his kinfolk and neighbors were invited. Odi occasionally complained
that his kin demanded too much and his relatives and townspeople some-
times grumbled that he w as not doing enough. But, overall, his tenure at
Downloaded by [University of Tasmania] at 03:30 15 November 2014
Odis case w ould seem to fit the model outlined in Peter Ekehs (1 97 5 ) semi-
nal article, in which he attempts to explain corruption in Africa in terms of
two publics, one moral and rooted in ties to kin-group and community of
origin and the other amoral, a legacy of institutions imposed under colonial-
ism. Ekehs analy sis accurately captures the morality that underlies Nigeri-
ans scramble for their share of the national cake and helps explain the con-
trasting moralities applied to Odis use of government parastatal money and
his alleged misuse of Ubakala Improvement Union funds. While Ekehs no-
tion of two publics is analy tically useful, my observations suggest that the
realms of Ekehs tw o publics (and I would go further and say that the realms
of public and private) overlap and interpenetrate. The arenas of kinship and
Conclusion
Ubakala Igbos, whether they reside in the village or have migrated to the
city , rely extensively on kinship relationships to fulfill their economic and po-
litical aspirations. People negotiate structures of power using social ties that
have their foundation in family and community of origin. The very workings
and contours of pow er in Nigeria, including state power, are shaped and me-
diated through relationships characterized by moral obligations of reciproc-
ity and affective attachments. As Jo seph notes: there is no contradictionin
holding that a patronclient link originates in a power relationship and also
holding that genuine affective ties reinforce that link (1 98 7 :5 9). The legiti-
macy of power in Nigeria rests, in part, on the ability of patrons to cultivate
economic and political ties with their clients in a manner that evokes and
recruits the emotional bonds and moral obligations of kinship (cf. Lentz 1 998).
A number of scholars have suggested that colonialism and post-colonial
struggles over political and economic resources have contributed to the rise
of the importance of ethnicity in Nigerian politics (Smock 1 97 1 ; Melson &
Wolpe 1 97 1 ). Smock (1 97 1 ), Wolpe (1 97 1 ) and Joseph (1 98 7 ) have each ar-
gued persuasively that ethnic politics seem to be exacerbated rather than
diminished as processes of modernization and democratization unfold. While
this seems to be true for Igbos,5 the emergence of ethnicity as an important
political identity should not be interpreted as replacing or superseding more
local identities such as lineage and community of origin. Individuals are able
to hold many identities simultaneously, calling upon different levels of alle-
giance as necessary. Even as individual identities encompass wider domains
than lineage and place of origin, kinship ties remain incredibly important as
individuals traverse wider social arenas. What Wolpe noted about Igbos in
Port Harcourt in the 1 960s remains true for Ubakala today: loy alties to his
family, village, and village-group were constant, and were invariably given
priority in any ordering of relationships (1 971 :5 01 ). Given the economic and
political insecurity that has plagued Nigeria over the past two decades, it should
not be surprising that people may be relying more, rather than less, on social
ties to family and community of origin.
One of the reasons people continue to depend so greatly on their kin is
that the offices of the state are unreliable when it comes to delivering basic
services and assistance through formal channels, much less providing access
to credit and other facilities for economic enterprises. And y et it is, in part,
Downloaded by [University of Tasmania] at 03:30 15 November 2014
Acknowledgments
I gratefully acknowledge the support of The Fulbright Program, The Population
Council, The Wenner-Gren Foundation for Anthropological Research, and The
National Science Foundation for my research in Nigeria. I thank Cory Kratz,
Peter Brown, Don Donham, Peggy Barlett, and Marcia Inhorn for their helpful
comments on an earlier version of this paper. I would also like to thank three
anony mous Ethnos reviewers for their constructive comments, criticisms, and
suggestions, which proved extremely helpful in revising the article.
Downloaded by [University of Tasmania] at 03:30 15 November 2014
Notes
1 . Since my fieldwork in 1 995 97 , Ubakala has been further divided into three
Local Autonomous Communities.
2 . While most Igbo communities are patrilineal, there are many exceptions, including
regions that are matrilineal (Nsugbe 1 97 4), and others that practice double des-
cent (Ottenberg 1 968 ).
3 . The names in the case studies are pseudonyms to protect the identities of my
informants. In tw o cases some of the chronological information and place names
have been modified to further protect peoples identities.
4. To Western ey es a dash appears to be a euphemistic way to describe a bribe.
Policemen ask for dashes at checkpoints; customs officers expect it at the air-
port. But it can also simply be a gesture of generosity. An in-law can be given a
dash after a visit, or a poor gardener might get a dash from his wealthy bo ss
around Christmas. Most important, as I try to make clear, a dash is often a
monetary symbol of some kind of personal or social relationship rather than the
naked exchange of money for some (illegal or improper) action or service, as in
the case with a bribe.
5 . For similar arguments related to the other ethnic groups in Nigeria see Peel
(1 98 3 ) and Laitin (1 98 6) for the Yoruba, and Paden (1 97 3 ) and Lubeck (1 986)
for the Hausa.
References
Achebe, Chinua. 1 98 3 . The Trouble with Nigeria. London: Heinemann.
Bastian, Misty. 1 993 . Bloodhounds Who Have No Friends: Witchcraft and Locality
in the Nigerian Popular Press. In Modernity and Its Malcontents: Ritual and Power
in Postcolonial A frica, edited by Jean & John Comaroff, pp. 1 2966. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press.
Bay art, Jean-Francois. 1 993 . The State in A frica: The Politics of the Belly. London:
Longman.
Berry , Sara. 1 985 . Fathers Work for Their Sons: A ccumulation, Mobility and Class Forma-
tion in an Extended Yoruba Community. Berkeley : University of California Press.
Bledsoe, Caroline. 1 980. Marriage in Kpelle Society. Stanford: Stanford University Press.
Chabal, Patrick & Jean-Pascal Daloz. 1 999. A frica Works: Disorder as Political Instru-
ment. Oxford: James Currey for the International African Institute.
Discontent, edited by A. Pred & M. Watts, pp. 21 63 . New Brunswick, NJ: Rut-
gers University Press.
Wolpe, Howard. 1 97 1 . Port Harcourt: Ibo Politics in Microcosm. In Nigeria: Modern-
ization and the Politics of Communalism, edited by Robert Melson & Howard Wolpe,
pp. 48 3 5 1 3 . East Lansing: Michigan State University Press.
. 1 97 4. Urban Politics in Nigeria: A Study of Port Harcourt. Berkeley: University of
California Press.