Introduction
What is ‘good governance’? Who determines what is good and bad governance? What yardsticks are applied? And why are these yardsticks applied only to Africa?Footnote 1
Good governance refers to the concept of ruling well, a broad aim to which we assume most, if not all, rulers are committed.Footnote 2 It is ‘essentially contested’Footnote 3 and has been interpreted in radically different ways.Footnote 4 The most famous of these interpretations, the one that put good governance on the map, so to speak, is the version developed in Washington by the World Bank at the end of the 1980s and subsequently adopted by the development industry as part of fiercely contested pro-market reforms. This conception of good governance – which I refer to variously as the good governance agenda and the international conception of good governance – was a response to contingent policy dilemmas and a particular ideological moment.Footnote 5 Whilst it has been subject to internal debates,Footnote 6 it broadly defines good governance as accountability, transparency and a clear divide between the public and private spheres.Footnote 7 In certain times and places, rulers’ aspirations to the concept of good governance in general have come to align with this more narrow, historical formation. This book considers such a moment of alignment when leaders in Yoruba-dominated southwest Nigeria and international development donors saw eye to eye. Through in-depth empirical study of how this particular conception of good governance was contested on the ground, this book responds to the call from the Nigerian political scientist, Raufu Abdul Mustapha, to ‘rethink the good governance agenda’.Footnote 8
To be precise, my aim is not to critique the good governance agenda – this has already been doneFootnote 9 – but to learn from the ways that this conception of good governance has been contested on the ground. My analysis takes seriously what Nigerian voters and politicians actually do in order to render unequal power accountable and transparent. Central to the politics of good governance in both theory and practice is the shifting emphasis given by different actors to its epistemic, social and material dimensions. Against a backdrop of donor policy and political ideology that foregrounds its epistemic dimensions – that is, the technocratic, knowledge-based requirements of good governance as a managerial exercise – this book argues for a renewed focus on governance as a socially embedded activity.
It is worth noting at the start that the advocates of the good governance agenda do not accept that their term is only one of a multitude of possible conceptions of good governance. For the practitioners, policy makers and consultants tasked with designing and implementing ‘governance reforms’, good governance represents the convergence on a set of distilled universal principles which can be applied anywhere.Footnote 10 Whilst politics is open to disagreement, so the theory goes, governance is a technical matter that can be done better or worse regardless of the overall goals that that society chooses for itself.Footnote 11 To the extent that the good governance agenda designates certain political principles as ‘good’ or valuable, these are deemed to be so universal as to be beyond debate: accountability, transparency and a strict division between the public and private sphere.Footnote 12 Especially where governance is poor, even if we do not all agree on the details, the good governance agenda is said to provide a blueprint for improvement. Thus, in practice, good governance has been treated as an uncontroversial set of best practices which can and should be adopted by reform-minded leaders anywhere.
This is pure fantasy. By exploring the politics of good governance in southwest Nigeria from its pre-colonial institutions to the rapid transformations in the twenty-first century, we see that the good governance agenda is just one, highly specific and remarkably pro-market conception of what counts as good governance. Moreover, it relies on particular understandings of the state, the individual and democracy which by no means enjoy consensus, even in the countries that fund the international institutions like the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and bilateral institutions that have been instrumental in promoting the good governance agenda in poorer countries. Just as the World Bank’s ideas are but one possible way of thinking about good governance, the indigenous ideas of good governance through which donor ideas were refracted are only one of a number of competing conceptions of good governance in southwest Nigeria. There is no more one homogeneous, monolithic ‘African’, ‘Nigerian’ conception or even ‘Yoruba’ conception of good governance than there is a Western one or a British one. Indeed, that is why we have democracy, because we do not agree.Footnote 13
This chapter introduces the broad conceptual assumptions behind much of the political science study of politics in Africa: that African political systems are dysfunctional because they are too embedded in social and material relations. It presents the good governance agenda’s technocratic vision of how to fix African politics, situating this vision in a longer ‘epistocratic’ political tradition that emphasises the knowledge-based, epistemic dimensions of governance. Oyo State, southwest Nigeria, along nearby with Lagos and Ekiti, are then introduced as examples of ‘home grown good governance states’ where governance reforms were not imposed by donors through conditionality but actively adopted by the government itself. Thus, a study of the Lagos model of good governance in Oyo State presents a unique opportunity for re-evaluating the social, material and epistemic dimensions of good governance through tracing how a domesticated version of the good governance agenda was contested in electoral competition between 2011 and 2015. The chapter starts with a brief overview of the history of good governance in Nigeria, to contextualise some of the tensions and reference points that structured political competition during this four-year window. It then considers the methods and methodologies we can use to study competing conceptions of good governance and asks how an empirical study of politics ‘on the ground’ connects to more theoretical debates in political theory. It concludes with a summary of the three key ambitions of the book and sketches how these are addressed in the following chapters.
1 Theorising Good Governance
In terms of empirical scope, this book focuses on Nigerian politics after the return to democracy in 1999. Known as the Fourth Republic, it has been a time of great hopeFootnote 14 quickly followed by bitter disappointment.Footnote 15 Whilst the battle for elections and civilian government had been won, by the early years of the twenty-first century, Nigerian political scientists decried elections as a ‘charade’Footnote 16 and the dividends of democracy were in short supply. For the almost 50 per cent of Nigerians living in poverty,Footnote 17 the 2004–14 boom did little to improve their socio-economic situation.Footnote 18 With the country freed from dictatorship and the ready explanations for Nigeria’s woes in the increasingly distant past – namely, colonialism and structural adjustment – commentators and scholars started to identify the source of Nigeria’s ongoing dysfunction as something intrinsic and deeply rooted.
From the turn of the millennium, a profound pessimism increasingly took over the Nigerian public discourse. Whereas historically the opposite of good governance has been some politically defined structural force – whether colonial domination,Footnote 19 or traditionalism,Footnote 20 or dependency on an unequal global economy,Footnote 21 or even multi-party democracyFootnote 22 – now the problem is seen as corruption born of the personal greed of politicians and ordinary citizens alike. Unlike earlier periods, there was scant critique of inequality as a product of capitalism itself, nor a platform for radically redistributive politics. Commentators struggled to identify an ideological component in political competition, conceptualising Nigeria’s political landscape instead in ahistorical and apolitical terms.Footnote 23 Nigerian politics was seen as suffering from a quasi-moral sickness, part of a ‘cancer of corruption’ afflicting the whole African continent.Footnote 24 A book titled Corruption in Nigeria published in Port Harcourt in 2002 captures this profound sense of failure and resignation: whereas at Independence Nigeria had been ‘a beacon of hope for the black race … to boldly enter into the path of modernity’, this sense of possibility had, the authors argued, been extinguished by ‘militant materialism’, ‘avarice and self-destructive greed’ and a ‘culture of rabid accumulative instinct’.Footnote 25 More broadly, scholars argued that Nigerian political culture was a ‘culture of corruption’ in which even those who suffered from governance failures were complicit in ‘everyday deception’.Footnote 26 What mattered under these circumstances was engineering a transformation from corruption to good governance. Whilst the tools of this transformation might be secular and bureaucratic, the shift itself would have to take place in the soul of Nigerian society.
This book does not endorse this account of Nigeria as rotten to the core. However, it is important to note that the dominant scholarly literature on politics in Africa in the 1990s and 2000s reinforced this pathologising self-image. Corruption was explained with reference to the ‘neo-patrimonial’Footnote 27 nature of the Nigerian state, said to be the ‘institutional hallmark’Footnote 28 and ‘core feature’Footnote 29 of politics in Africa. Neo-patrimonialism provided an academic framework for the anxieties and moral panics around corruption in post-structural adjustment Africa and became the World Bank’s default concept for explaining African states’ inability to perform proper governance functions.Footnote 30 In so doing, it contributed to an image of politics in Nigeria as devoid of substantive, let alone multiple and competing, visions of good governance. More importantly for this study however, the power of the neo-patrimonialism literature came from its ability to capitalise on and amplify deeply rooted assumptions about what good politics looked like and how power should be exercised. In the pro-democracy literature of the 1990s and 2000s, and the governance reform interventions they gave rise to, the diagnosis of neo-patrimonialism served as the flip side of the good governance agenda, the latter reflecting the same concerns in ‘more diplomatic language’.Footnote 31 The rest of this section revisits these two complementary terms and considers the underlying assumptions about politics, the state and society that they helped cement.
To practitioners and scholars working today, both these terms may sound a little dated. Neo-patrimonialism has been subject to extensive critiqueFootnote 32 and attempted clarifications,Footnote 33 with even the scholars who championed its use quietly questioning its analytical worth.Footnote 34 So too, good governance is no longer the ubiquitous buzzword it was in the 1990s and 2000s: as early as 2001, scholars were writing of its ‘decline’.Footnote 35 New terms like ‘politically smart locally led’ developmentFootnote 36 and political-economy analysis have looked set to take its place.Footnote 37 However, both good governance and neo-patrimonialism were central to donor and scholarly studies of Nigeria in the period under study (1999–2015)Footnote 38 and both remain part of the ‘common sense’ regarding governance in Africa. Over thirty years on from the World Bank’s original Governance and Development pamphlet,Footnote 39 the Council of Europe,Footnote 40 the Brookings InstitutionFootnote 41 and the British Institute of DirectorsFootnote 42 all made public statements about the importance of good governance. In each case, the term had different inflections and was used variously to refer to corporate leadership, regulatory structures in Europe and pro-poor growth in Africa. Similarly, despite extensive critique, the term ‘neopatrimonialism’ retains a central place in the vocabulary of the study of politics in Africa: the first chapter in the 2019 Routledge Handbook of Democratisation in Africa is ‘Neopatrimonialism and Democratisation’.Footnote 43 A recent article touting ‘innovations to the literature on administrative corruption’ employs ‘a neo‐patrimonialism framework’ to study corruption in seventeen African countries.Footnote 44 To borrow a term from Giorgio Blundo and Olivier de Sardan, we can say that these terms have been ‘sedimented’ into the fabric of development thinking.Footnote 45 In the past twenty years, the progressive extension of economic methodologies to questions of democratic accountability through principal-agent modelsFootnote 46 has built on the conceptual foundation laid by the good governance agenda and neo-patrimonialism discourse. Moreover, the twin concepts of neo-patrimonialism and good governance formed a conceptual framework that continues to structure debates about what is wrong with politics in Africa and how it should be improved.Footnote 47 To unpack this conceptual foundation, we must first look at the way in which neo-patrimonialism rests on the separation of governance into its social and rule-based dimensions and then how good governance offered a technocratic solution.
Neo-Patrimonialism: The ‘Revenge of Society’
The idea of neo-patrimonialism has its roots in German sociologist Max Weber’s work on different forms of political authority. According to Weber, legal-rational authority describes bureaucratic states where authority was exercised according to rules (sometimes termed rational-bureaucratic). This found its paradigmatic expression in the nineteenth century Prussian state, which was the first to build a civil service based on meritocratic appointments and strict bureaucratic procedures. By contrast, in patrimonial states, authority derived from the personal power of individual leaders and states is run as if they were private households.Footnote 48 By the mid-twentieth century, a few post-colonial African states – bar perhaps Haile Selassie’s imperial regime in Ethiopia – were considered true examples of this traditionalist form of rule.Footnote 49 In the 1970s, scholars of politics in the Global South added ‘neo’ to describe non-traditional contexts where patrimonialism was intertwined with elements of bureaucratic, rule-bound authority.Footnote 50 The resulting concept of neo-patrimonialism was applied first to the Ahidjo dictatorship in Cameroon by Jean-François MédardFootnote 51 and subsequently to the vast majorityFootnote 52 of African states.Footnote 53 Modernisation theory stated that as states became independent and went through a process of political modernisation, the influence of social relations and personal rule should ebb. In ‘neo-patrimonial’ states, this process was thought to have stalled: the bureaucratic elements either only existed in limited ‘pockets’Footnote 54 or were merely a façade.Footnote 55
By the 1980s, many scholars of politics in Africa were bewildered as their hopes for the new nations were dashed and the state was ‘losing its modernist shine’.Footnote 56 The political and economic turmoil in the aftermath of the oil price hikes of 1972 and 1979, combined with the fact that many celebrated independence era leaders had entrenched themselves as increasingly authoritarian rulers for life, led to disillusionment with the key concepts in political analysis on the continent: the state (and its associated formal institutions such as political parties)Footnote 57 and class.Footnote 58 Neither state-building nor class formation had proceeded in the smooth linear way predicted by modernisation theory and Marxist analysis leaving Africa and African studies in ‘a sorry state of affairs’.Footnote 59 At the other end of the ideological spectrum, even neo-classical economists had until the 1970s ‘traditionally held high expectations about the motives behind state policy … [and] assumed a benign and welfare-maximising state’.Footnote 60 As development economists were confronted by what they saw as African leaders’ ‘economically irrational policies’,Footnote 61 a ‘new political economy’ emerged predicated on ‘the negative state’ and ‘negative politics’.Footnote 62 Thus, both scholars of African studies and professional economists were left with a ‘profoundly cynical view of the political process’.Footnote 63 They started to theorise the role of an amorphous but powerful ‘African society’ which evaded clear stratification on class lines and helped explain the alternative route that political development in Africa seemed to be taking.
Rather than a state that was autonomous from society, and governed by its own internal rules and logics, the state, to the extent that it ruled at all, ruled through its domination of social networks. In an influential essay in 1986, Jean-Francois Bayart argued that widespread informalisation in African countries was evidence of the ‘revenge of society’ on the state.Footnote 64 Whilst Bayart himself was loath to condemn this outright, his analysis concluded that any emancipatory potential was absorbed into an ingrained ‘politics of the belly’.Footnote 65 Social forces were seen as undermining efforts to build an effective state,Footnote 66 resulting in ‘strong societies and weak states’.Footnote 67 Thomas M Callaghy used Weberian vocabulary in describing this phenomenon as the ‘patrimonial administrative state’ to describe the state–society struggle.Footnote 68 For William Reno, society and the state in Africa were not opposed, but ‘symbiotic’, but the result was still the same: the ‘decay of formal state authority’.Footnote 69 Whilst African scholars were more likely to describe the continent’s traditional political systems as ‘infused with democratic values’,Footnote 70 a culturalist camp, led by francophone scholars, insisted that African societies were incubators of ‘moral economies of corruption’Footnote 71 and that politics was inexorably tied to other-worldlyFootnote 72 ‘cultural logics’.Footnote 73 Where there was a strong associational life, this was ‘uncivil’,Footnote 74 with a predatory state mirrored by a ‘predatory society’.Footnote 75 These studies helped interrupt the modernising assumptions of the post-independence scholarship. In seeking to study African politics on its own termsFootnote 76 – however inchoate the resulting analysis – they broadened the conceptual vocabulary beyond class and state, to consider how power operates beyond formal institutions. However, it also laid the groundwork for pathologising assumptions about the social dimensions of politics in Africa that have been hard to shake.Footnote 77
In the case of Nigeria, this collapse of political and developmental aspirations and the subsequent conceptual concern with the threat of social relations can be seen most clearly in the work of Richard Joseph. In the run up to the long-awaited 1979 elections, Joseph used a piece in the staunchly Marxist Review of African Political Economy to gently chide the major political parties in Nigeria for their ‘welfarism’. He saw the Unity Party of Nigeria’s (UPN) promise of free education and free textbooks as insufficiently ambitious. Within four years, the Nigerian economy was in freefall and the second republic aborted by a military coup. Joseph’s Reference Joseph1987 book Democracy and Prebendal Politics in Nigeria: The Rise And Fall Of The Second Republic argued that rather than class struggle, it is the struggle at the heart of Nigerian politics for ‘prebends’, where public office is captured and exploited for private or sectional gain. Class divisions were irrelevant as ethnic, linguistic and regional divisions impeded the maintenance of even basic liberal democratic practice. A profound sense of disappointment runs through the book.Footnote 78
At the same time, as ‘neo-patrimonialism’ and ‘prebendalism’ were being popularised in the academy, a wider literature on clientelism advanced a similar analysis of what was wrong with politics in Africa and the Global South.Footnote 79 From the local level, to the presidency, the primary ‘linkage’ between citizens and politicians was argued to be patron–client exchanges.Footnote 80 Powerful patrons, emboldened by the capture of state power and resources, would offer clients small-scale material benefits and protection in exchange for political support.Footnote 81 After initial enthusiasm for the ‘third wave’ of democratisation in the early 1990s, there were warnings that the adoption of multi-party politics would simply entrench patron–client relations in electoral politics.Footnote 82
In the 1990s, there was a resurgence in the use of the term neo-patrimonialism to explain Africa’s lack of development, this time decoupled from the earlier generation of Africanist scholars’ Marxist convictions or lived experiences of the optimism of Independence-era Africa. Where earlier iterations of the neo-patrimonialism scholarship emphasised the social dimension of poor governance, with rulers relying on charisma and personal authority to bamboozle their followers and enrich themselves, the literature on clientelism emphasised the material dimension of politics which operated through certain sorts of social relations.Footnote 83 American political scientists Michael Bratton and Nicolas Van de Walle brought these two strands together using a combination of public choice theorists’ models of rent-seeking bureaucraciesFootnote 84 and the idea that African social norms and behaviours had corrupted the state.Footnote 85 In neo-patrimonial states, they argued, “the distinction between private and public interests is purposefully blurred”.Footnote 86 On this view, the African state was peopled by civil servants whose ‘primordial’ identities (linking them to ethnic or familial constituencies) ‘outweighed’ public loyalties.Footnote 87 The rational-bureaucratic Weberian state, common among Western democracies, was, in post-colonial Africa, constantly under threat from social norms and customs in societies where voters naturally submitted to ‘Big Man’ politics.Footnote 88 Whilst ‘personal relationships are a factor at the margins of all bureaucratic systems’, Bratton and Van de Walle explained, “in Africa they constitute the foundation and superstructure of political institutions”.Footnote 89 Indeed, such socially embedded political formations were argued to have profound and inescapable economic and developmental consequences.Footnote 90 By prioritising social and material considerations ahead of the universalistic principle of public interest, the neo-patrimonial logics of African states meant that they were trapped in ‘permanent crisis’.Footnote 91
This was not the first time that scholars had highlighted the complicated nature of the public–private divide in Nigeria. In 1976, Peter Ekeh asserted, “the existence of two publics (in modern post-colonial Africa) instead of one public, as in the West”.Footnote 92 The ‘civic’ public, he argued, is associated with formal governance structures, whereas the ‘primordial’ public is ‘closely identified with primordial groupings, sentiments and activities’.Footnote 93 Due to the dysfunctional impact of first colonial and then post-colonial ideologies of legitimation, each of the publics is regarded with a very different moral or ethical attitude. Insofar as the spirit of public service existed in post-colonial Nigeria, Ekeh argued that the state is not its primary host. Social norms require office holders in civil institutions to act with ‘honesty and integrity’ in the primordial public, but they face ‘little moral sanction’ for embezzling from the civic public.Footnote 94 Though individuals may occasionally use the guise of the primordial public to steal money for their own private or personal interests, Ekeh argues, the mainstay of corruption is driven by the belief that ‘it is legitimate to rob the civic public in order to strengthen the primordial public’.Footnote 95
With its emphasis on the weakness of individuals’ commitments to the state as a vehicle of public morality, Ekeh’s theory of the two publics could be seen as a forerunner to theories of neo-patrimonialism; however, there are important differences. For example, whereas Christopher Clapham wrote in 1985 that neo-patrimonialism reflects ‘a normal social form in pre-colonial societies’ in the third world and is ‘accepted as normal behaviour’ in ‘tribal societies’Footnote 96 for Ekeh, the underdeveloped nature of the civic public is ‘a unique historical configuration’ which emerged in response to the artificiality of government structures under colonial and then rule.Footnote 97 While the shared use of the term primordial evokes a static, timeless set of attachments, in Ekeh’s formulation, the emergence of an alternative ‘public sphere’ notably sidesteps the essentialism which characterised the neo-patrimonialism literature.
Secondly, and more importantly for the thesis presented in this book, Ekeh does not share the neo-patrimonialism literature’s conceptualisation of Nigeria’s governance’s failures in terms of an imbalance in public and private interests; rather, he creates an additional third realm which is still in some sense ‘public’ albeit within more tightly bounded communities. Thus, Ekeh alerts us to the possibility of a genre of politics which sits beyond the radar of received binaries in political science. The ‘third space’ of Ekeh’s framework defies Weberian categories: it is neither absolutely impersonal rational-bureaucratic public authority, yet cannot be subsumed into patrimonial authority conceived as the personal or individual authority of a Big Man’s private household. Moreover, it transcends the public–private binary, whereby as soon as political actors deviate from a recognisably ‘official’ public self, they are assumed to be acting in a personal capacity as their private self.
Finally, Ekeh has typically been understood as concerned with the disjuncture between apathy towards the national community and commitment to one’s ethnic community. Indeed, this is what he means by the problem of ‘tribalism’ in post-independence Nigeria. However, the empirical evidence presented in this book points towards the existence of more social forms of governance which are neither personalistic – in the sense of predicated on one’s individual or immediate familial relations – nor ethnic, but speak to a more general sociality. The notion of governance that is both public and yet includes some social elements, and the further possibility that this may constitute good governance, is central to this book’s analysis (see Chapter 6).
For now, it suffices to note that by the 1990s, the idea of social relations as a liability for governance, via the literature on neo-patrimonialism and related concepts, was well established in African studies and political science. Goran Hyden summarised the perceived nefarious influence of social relations on the African state as follows:
as long as the economy of affection is able to influence behaviour in the civil public realm … governments in Africa are likely to remain paralysed … it is a problem with roots in society. To that extent is it clear that improvements in government performance are dependent on the transformation of society.Footnote 98
Hyden’s ideas fed into what was to become a landmark report in the Bank’s engagement with the Global South. Sub-Saharan Africa: From Crisis to Sustainable Development, published by the World Bank in 1989, concluded that underlying Africa’s developmental crisis was, in fact, a ‘crisis of governance’.Footnote 99
Technocratic Good Governance as Epistocracy
Informed by the likes of Hyden and the neo-patrimonialism school, international development institutions offered a vision of how to get the African state back on track. After the inability of World Bank and IMF structural adjustment policies to bring about sustained development in poor countries through radical market reforms,Footnote 100 the development industry turned its attention to how states in developing countries functioned.Footnote 101 In 1990, the President of the World Bank, Barber Conable, declared better governance to be the primary requirement of economic recovery in Africa:Footnote 102 with the Bank controlling four-fifths of the $15 billion of international aid to the continent at the time, this announcement had profound implications.Footnote 103 A pamphlet titled Governance and Development set the tone of development interventions for the next thirty years: “Good governance”, the World Bank asserted, “is synonymous with sound development management”.Footnote 104
In its earlier forms, the good governance agenda incorporated calls for democratisation, human rights and the rule of law, which at the time came from both Western governments and African activists,Footnote 105 in addition to more bureaucratic issues like civil service reform.Footnote 106 However, by the late 1990s, when the vast majority of African countries had formally adopted multi-party democracies and new constitutions, the calls for democratic elections had largely been met and the technocratic elements remained central. Dominant economic thinking at the World Bank shifted from a market fundamentalist approach, which advocated ‘shock treatment’ and sought to minimise the role of the state in the economy through privatisation and cutting the public sector as advocated in the Berg report,Footnote 107 to what has come to be known as a neo-liberalism.Footnote 108 The New Institutional Economics emphasised ‘getting the institutions right’Footnote 109 and gave the state a central role in setting the ‘rules of the game’.Footnote 110 However, whilst the state had an important role to play, neo-liberals argued that strict discipline was required to reduce opportunities for rent-seeking and overcome the inherent inefficiency of bureaucracies.Footnote 111 The New Public Management, already influential in restructuring the public sector in countries like the UK, USA and New Zealand,Footnote 112 emphasised the gains to be made from bringing public sector operations into line with the logic of market-driven private sector management.Footnote 113 Thus, the Washington Consensus was replaced with what came to be known as the ‘Post-Washington Consensus’.Footnote 114 This change in orientation was seen in the World Bank’s 1997 World Development Report ‘The State in a Changing World’. It declared that the state would not act as the ‘direct provider of growth but as a partner, catalyst, and facilitator’.Footnote 115
Whilst donors paid lip-service to the idea that ‘there is no generic, one-size-fits-all approach to governance’Footnote 116 and defined governance in numerous slightly different ways,Footnote 117 a shared approach was clear. The African Development Bank’s policy on ‘good governance’ from 1999 is indicative of the way the term was boiled down to its core technocratic principles: accountability, transparency, combatting corruption and strengthening African countries’ legal and judicial frameworks,Footnote 118 with concerns for democratisation reduced to ‘stakeholder participation’.Footnote 119 Government would no longer be driven by patron-client dynamics or the whims of neo-patrimonial Big Men but would create an enabling environment for the private sector.
Critics of the good governance agenda argued that this was technocratic and relied on a falsely ‘managerial’ understanding of governance, treating human affairs as if they are susceptible to an administrative ‘fix’.Footnote 120 Claude Ake mused that
the [international financial institutions] still appear to believe that they are not in the business of politics. They think that political variables can simply be treated as an engineering problem and ‘factored in’ to improve the effectiveness of their structural adjustment programs, and thus they can avoid changing their overall approach to development.Footnote 121
However, technocracy was the whole point. In the political imagination of the time, African politics was mired in a web of social relations and personal interests that hobbled the state’s ability to act in its citizens’ best interests. For neo-liberals in the World Bank, there was a ‘need to create an insulated system of techno-managerial governance that would protect the market from politics and possessed the authority to redefine society in terms of an ongoing series of highly functional voluntary transactions between rational individuals’.Footnote 122 Governing in accordance to technical rules was a way of cutting through social ties and networks of exchange, freeing civil servants and policymakers to make the right decisions as dictated by neo-classical economic expertise. If, as the neo-patrimonialism literature suggested, those in government were driven by ‘primordial’ identities and private interests that ‘outweighed’ their commitment to the public good, then good governance reforms would hold them accountable for adherence to rules and the fulfilment of key performance indicators.
At the level of policy, the discipline of good governance rules would re-orient politicians away from small-scale patronage to clients towards delivering public goods. Government performance would be measured via metrics and in accordance with international best practice standards. The United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) set up a Governance Assessment Portal which served as an ‘information hub’ allowing users to ‘develop an index to monitor performance of public administration, sectors and services’ and get in contact with ‘international experts’.Footnote 123 In 2004, there were over thirty surveys and indices measuring governance including Transparency International’s Bribe Payer’s Index, the Commitment to Development Index, the Global Accountability report, the World Bank’s Governance Matters indicators, the Price Waterhouse Cooper funded Opacity Index and the Public Integrity Index.Footnote 124 Governance became confirmed as the domain of experts. In terms of policy, decisions were delegated to those with economic expertise in autonomous central banks and executive agencies. In a similar vein, the job of holding governments to account increasingly relied on expert assessments and mastery of complex statistical monitoring and evaluation measures.Footnote 125
Thus, the twinning of neo-patrimonialism and good governance combined to form an understanding of social relations as a threat to good politics in Africa and elsewhere. Clientelism, Big Man rule and patronage politics exemplified the ways in which the social and material dimensions of governance had subsumed the state. These oversize social and material dimensions had to be ‘disciplined’ through technocratic good governance reformsFootnote 126 which would enable government to be driven instead by rules and metrics, returning the epistemic dimension of governance to the fore.
As a technocratic vision of rule, the good governance agenda is part of a long tradition in political thinking that argues for ‘epistocracy’,Footnote 127 meaning ‘knowledge-based rule’.Footnote 128 Most famously espoused by Plato in his idea of ‘philosopher kings’ in The Republic, epistocracy is ‘the notion that political power ought to be held primarily, or even exclusively, by competent persons’.Footnote 129 Over history, epistocracy has taken on different meanings depending on what sort of knowledge is seen as conferring the right to rule: theocracies based on religious knowledge, meritocracies based on systems of examination and testing. All of them emphasise the epistemic – that is, knowledge-based – dimensions of governance. In contemporary society, ‘the most crucial knowledge source is scientific and professional knowledge’, meaning that technocracy – government in accordance with technical knowledge – is the primary expression of epistocratic thinking.Footnote 130 Technocratic politics can take a number of forms. Over the years, technocratic dreams have ranged from the ‘white heat of technology’ as a force to overcome traditional hierarchies,Footnote 131 to a ‘technocratic socialist leviathan’ which will reformulate society to survive climate breakdown.Footnote 132
The technocratic visions behind the good governance agenda are rather more sedate. Both Weber’s Prussian-style rational-bureaucratic authority and the New Public Management bureaucracies of the good governance agenda reflect technocratic principles in privileging the role of meritocratic bureaucracies and expertise in political decision-making, even though the exact type of technical knowledge varies between. Sometimes, these two approaches coincide: for instance, in 1999, Jonathan Rauch and Peter Evans added to the litany of governance indicators with their ranking of thirty-five developing countries on a ‘Weberianess Scale’ (Nigeria ranked at the bottom, with only the Dominican Republic and Kenya judged to be less Weberian).Footnote 133 Thinking about the World Bank’s good governance agenda as both epistocratic and technocratic helps clarify how it conceives of key concepts. Donors defined accountability and transparency as mechanisms for incentivising and enforcing adherence to technical rules and goals. For example, the same African Development Bank good governance policy discussed above breaks accountability down into managerial components: public sector management, public enterprise management and reform, public financial management, corporate governance and civil service reform.Footnote 134 As Thandika Mkandawire argued, accountability was reinterpreted as accounting.Footnote 135 Whilst epistocratic approaches to governance tend to translate political values into technical ones, in practice, they have to accommodate a balance between democracy and diverse forms of knowledge.Footnote 136
Ongoing debates over epistocracy in political theory allude to the contested status of knowledge-based rule. On one hand, ‘even committed democrats worry about the political ignorance, short-sightedness, and irrationality of ordinary citizens’.Footnote 137 On the other hand, the idea of philosopher kings, whether neo-classical economists or otherwise, seems doomed as it relies on the ‘false assumption that there is a set of objective moral and scientific truths’.Footnote 138 Amidst these abstract debates, we can ask about the political consequences of epistocracy in practice. By making developing countries more hospitable to foreign capital,Footnote 139 the good governance agenda shut down key democratic debates. Controversial reforms – mass retrenchment, weakening of democratic oversight, stripping back of social protections – were smuggled in via appeals to universal values of accountability, transparency and efficiency. This had serious effects on democracy in recipient countries.Footnote 140 Conditionality tied the hands of African governments, creating what Thandika Mkandawire called ‘choiceless democracies’,Footnote 141 where people ‘can vote but cannot chose’.Footnote 142
Whilst critiques of the good governance agenda have focused on the hierarchies of donor–recipient relationships, the tensions between epistocracy and democracy are not just of concern for those states in the Global South who have adopted the World Bank’s prescriptions, whether out of choice or necessity. Remember: the New Public Management on which the good governance agenda was modelled had burned its way through the public sectors of the UK, New Zealand, Australia and the USA long before it was adopted by development experts. In the heart of the OECD, technocratic governance has been linked to a lack of democratic legitimacy and rising populism. Supra-national institutions, with carefully negotiated yet inscrutable protocols, present a heightened vision of governance as the realm of experts, distant from the people. The European Union has been accused of ‘governing by rules and ruling by numbers’Footnote 143 leading to an erosion of public trust. The rise of ‘audit culture’ as a global phenomenon has seen the extension of the logics of financial accountability into more spheres of public and democratic life.Footnote 144
Whilst promoting multi-partyism and free elections, the good governance agenda limited the scope for democratic control over decision-making, especially on economic issues.Footnote 145 As in many epistocratic accounts of democracy, the role of ordinary people was instrumental rather than intrinsic.Footnote 146 As hinted at above, the ‘long-route’ to accountability via democracy was side-lined in favour of ‘short-route’ accountability.Footnote 147 With direct experience of how government was performing, beneficiaries and ‘service-users’ could act as a ‘check’ on government and give up-to-date feedback leading to more efficient outcomes. Democratic citizenship was re-interpreted as ‘participation’, where citizens featured less as voters than as beneficiaries, who made up a patchwork of ‘stakeholders’ alongside NGOs and the private sector.Footnote 148 Thus, the debates in development studies about the World Bank’s good governance agenda turn our attention to wider questions about the tension between technocracy and democracy. The tension in the good governance agenda is perhaps most explicitly dealt with in UNRISD’s ‘Technocratic Policy Making and Democratic Accountability’ research programme, initiated in 2000 by Thandika Mkandawire and overseen by Yusuf Bangura, both of whom were major figures in the Council for the Development of Social Science Research in Africa (CODESRIA). This book extends the study of this tension by looking at how the anti-democratic effects of technocracy can be counterbalanced by an aspect of governance that scholars in CODESRIA argue has been downplayed in Western approaches to democracy: the social dimension.Footnote 149
The Epistemic, Social and Material Dimensions of Governance
For the World Bank and other donors, social relations between the rulers and the ruled were at odds with the technocratic imperative of the good governance agenda. Despite the Bank’s confidence in its epistocratic approach, there were concerns nonetheless that technocratic reforms would be insufficient given the enduring threat of social relations overwhelming the state. Recalling the concern with moral economies of affection,Footnote 150 the ‘revenge of society’ and neo-patrimonialism from the 1980s and early 1990s, John Martinussen took aim at the ‘narrow focus’ of the 1997 World Development Report’s discussion of corruption. His analysis is worth reproducing at length, not because it was in itself an especially influential article, but because it captures with extraordinary clarity the underlying concerns that motivated a whole generation of scholarship. When it comes to corruption,
the root causes should be sought outside the state – in the long-established practices of reciprocal exchange – what some researchers have termed the moral economy, others the economy of affection. The basic feature is the moral obligation to favour and reward one’s own family, kin, community or other kinds of social groups. This may imply the abuse of public power and resources, precisely because many government officials in poor countries feel a stronger obligation towards external groups than to the state.Footnote 151
The World Bank’s approach to the state ignored that ‘personalistic relationships permeate both the government bureaucracies’. Citing Douglas North’s 1990 work ‘Institutions, Institutional Change and Economic performance’, he lamented how ‘society-generated and very basic social institutions and norms have invaded and captured’ the state in developing countries. He concluded that “what is needed is a more comprehensive analysis of the societal embeddedness of the behaviour of government officials”.Footnote 152
This book takes up the challenge of a ‘more comprehensive analysis’ of the ways in which the state and political processes are societally, or as I call it, socially embedded. However, whilst Martinussen locates the sources of corruption ‘outside the state’, I argue that its solutions also lie not in epistocracy but in re-connecting the state to its social context. The ‘long established practices’ which he fears will overload the state with social demands are not simply a channel for the articulation of personalistic, familial or group-based interests (though no doubt sometimes they do, though this is not a peculiarly African problem), rather they represent the potential for constraining power. Socially embedded forms of accountability and transparency sit in stark contrast with their more visible, technocratic alternatives. Ultimately, I argue that the epistemic dimension of good governance, whilst important, has been overstated. The technocratic instinct to disconnect the state from society only heightens the opaque and unaccountable nature of state power. As such, this book connects debates in the discipline of development studies about good governance with wider theoretical questions about the social and epistemic dimensions of democracy.
Whilst my analysis foregrounds the tensions between the social and epistemic dimensions of good governance, much of the work on politics in Nigeria and Africa more generally would argue that both are superseded by material politics. Just as Martinussen explicitly identifies the source of corruption as moral economies, African politics has been widely characterised as ‘politics of the belly’Footnote 153 where electoral competition revolves around whose turn it is to ‘eat’.Footnote 154 Indeed, the material dimension of governance is a vital part of the analysis presented in this book: the importance of material politics plays out in a variety of ways, from the obligations of generosity to followers in pre-colonial Ibadan to amala politics in the fourth republic and the importance of bricks and mortar infrastructure in the Lagos model.
Even the more sombre analyses that go beyond the metaphors of the ‘national cake’Footnote 155 to study clientelism and patronage nonetheless conceptualise voters and politicians as rational actors driven by economic incentives to maximise their material interests. Good governance might be defined as ‘sound development management’, but it is operationalised as the provision of more and better public goods.Footnote 156 In particular, the use of principal-agent models,Footnote 157 derived from rational actor theory and offering a ‘political economy of good government’, has come to dominate the study of democratic accountability.Footnote 158 The origins and assumptions of the principal-agent approach mean it has limited scholars’ ability to appreciate the range of forms that real-life political accountability can take (see Chapter 4). These studies have brought formal modelling and quantitative methods into the study of politics in Africa, enabling the testing of theoretical claims in a rigorous way that was previously impossible. However, for the most part, studies of material politics in Africa have shared the above normative assumptions about the value of epistemic versus social dimensions of governance, even when they have clothed such judgements in highly technical and statistical methodologies. Much of the study of distribution in Africa reproduces a binary view of certain sorts of material politics as good and others bad. This is seen in the centrality of the division between public goods and private goods,Footnote 159 or programmatic versus patrimonial politics.Footnote 160 Both of these conceptual frameworks distinguish between the material goods that voters should want (infrastructure, health and education) and material goods, the distribution of which reflects the effect of dysfunctional social relations on politics (cash, food, gifts).Footnote 161 In this way, much of the study of material politics relies on the same normative distinction between good epistemic governance and bad socially embedded governance. We shall come back to the question of how the good governance paradigm was updated with the renewed application of economics-inspired models, in particular agency theory, in greater detail in Chapter 4. The study of voters’ interests is shaped by an assumption that as experts, we know what is in their best interests.
The case of progressive-led states in southwest Nigeria, presented below, offers a window to study these theoretical questions about epistocracy, and the material and social dimensions of governance empirically. However, the story of the Lagos model in southwest must first be situated in its longer historical context.
2 A Brief History of Competing Conceptions of Good Governance in Nigeria
This section traces the ways in which Nigerian politics has been mediated through changing ideas of good governance. Recurrent themes – modernisation, moral redemption, socialism and liberal democracy – have been combined and re-articulated across the decades, changing with the fortunes of Nigeria’s bureaucrats, generals, intelligentsia and the leverage available to external actors. This brief overview starts from the early use of the English phrase ‘good government’ as part of the British colonial project. It charts the reconfiguration of Nigerian political systems under colonial rule, through the pursuit of self-government, to the aspirations and ruptures that have shaken Nigeria as an independent nation. It should be noted that this is a necessarily selective slice of Nigeria’s political development and inevitably leaves out the manifold insights to be drawn from a closer study of the country’s full diversity of political systems: the Sokoto Caliphate, the Kanem-Bornu Empire, the old Oyo empire, the Benin Kingdom as well as decentralised republics in Igboland.Footnote 162
From the beginning, ideas of good government were intertwined with an assumption of European epistemic and moral superiority and the imperative to maintain market access to natural materials and human resources for the colonial masters. Whereas colonialism was long accepted as a nakedly commercial enterprise, with Britain and other imperial powers asserting their immutable ‘right to trade’, by end of the nineteenth century, with the Berlin Conference formalising the ‘scramble for Africa’, colonial administrators increasingly justified colonialism not in terms of trade but humanitarianism and governance. Following the lead of Joseph Chamberlain, Lord Lugard, soon to be the Governor general of Nigeria, embraced the dual mandate of colonial rule: commerce and civilisation.Footnote 163 Concurrently, the early years of the twentieth century saw the development of international law as a set of institutions that governed the relations between ‘civilised states’ where race determined membership of this family of nations.Footnote 164
In Nigeria, colonial officials governed via a mix of indirect and direct rule, leading to a wide variety of political forms combining existing structures with elements of a bureaucratic state.Footnote 165 British colonial administrators shared the task of governance with a network of traditional rulers under a system of secular native administration divided into three regions – northern, western and eastern. With the rise of the colonial state, corruption described any deviation from the vision of ‘a rational, delocalised, bureaucratic order’ with a strict division between public and private spheres.Footnote 166 Rather than seeing indigenous political structures as a source of political inspiration,Footnote 167 the British saw the lingering traces of indigenous social and political practices as a liability. In the 1950s, the Governor of Nigeria, John Macpherson, saved special condemnation for gaisuwa, a gift-giving custom which he saw as rampant in the Kano emirate.Footnote 168 Discourses which located corruption in Nigeria’s traditional political structure were echoed in more subtle ways by Nigerian leaders themselves. The revered Premier of the Northern Region, Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, declared in a speech to the House of Assembly in Kaduna, 9 August 1950,
No one who has not lived amongst us can fully appreciate to what extent the giving and taking of bribes occupies the attention of all degrees to the exclusion of the ideals of the disinterested service. Much of the attraction of a post lies in the opportunities it offers for extortion of one form or another.
The solution? Modernisation of the native administrations.Footnote 169 The Macpherson Constitution introduced democratic elections in the regional governments in 1951.Footnote 170 From 1957, when oil was discovered, national level leaders argued over how best to use oil wealth to modernise the country and in whose image.Footnote 171 When Nigeria became independent in 1960, its first president, Nnamdi Azikiwe, gave a speech titled ‘Respect for Human Dignity’, in which he described colonial rule as ‘an extreme form of civilised barbarism’.Footnote 172 He welcomed independence as a ‘great adventure of restoring the dignity of man in the world’Footnote 173 where nation-building could resume unhindered by the colonial ideologies of race that had associated whiteness with good governance.Footnote 174 Yet, before long,
it was clear that hopes for ‘life more abundant’ were only to be realised for the few. … Nigerians found that colonial rule had been replaced by politicians’ rule. Politics itself became the focus of resentment. It was identified with the corrupt and blatant enrichment of the few at the expense of the many, and the nepotism, tribalism and repression with which the politicians kept themselves in power.Footnote 175
A coup in 1966 and then the Civil War from 1967 to 1970 focused the debate on national level questions about how the major ethnic and regional blocs that made up Nigeria were to fit together.Footnote 176 The federal government responded robustly to the attempted secession of the Eastern Region. After eliminating the hopes of the short-lived Republic of Biafra, General Yakubu Gowon brought the country together in 1970 under the banner of ‘No Victor, No Vanquished’.
The 1974 oil price hike led to a boom for Nigeria, as an OPEC member and oil exporter. In only a few years, the government became increasingly dependent on oil for its revenue, with oil receipted constituting 25% of revenue in 1970, growing to almost 80% in 1974, and hovering around 70% for the next fifteen years.Footnote 177 The Gowon military regime had big ambitions for rapid national progress, but little faith in the model of parliamentary democracy that preceded the war. As oil prices rose steeply in 1974, members of the military leadership were seen as embodying corruption in their displays of ‘arrogance’ and ‘conspicuous consumption’.Footnote 178 With a team of elite senior civil servants, known as ‘super perm secs’, General Gowon hoped that technocratic governance would overcome corruption by taking the ‘politics out of politics’.Footnote 179
By 1975, a coup had replaced General Gowon and the civil service itself was re-cast as the source of corruption, for which only a purge of bureaucrats could provide relief.Footnote 180 After a series of experiments in political structure and administrative rule,Footnote 181 the country returned to electoral democracy under the new 1979 constitution, marking the start of the Second Republic.Footnote 182 Local government powers were beefed up and responsibilities for health and education devolved.Footnote 183 In the Yoruba-dominated Western Region, to which we will return throughout the book, ruling elites pushed for universal education to transform the minds of the citizens. Elsewhere, the focus was instead on industrialising to ‘catch-up’ with colonial masters and the Western world.Footnote 184
Nigeria’s reliance on oil led to a series of disastrous economic policy decisions. Oil was more than 90 per cent of total exports throughout the 1970s and 1980s.Footnote 185 Each time an oil shock raised the price of oil, huge expansions in government spending followed: total government expenditure doubled in 1970, again in 1974 and again the next year. Government revenue, and thus spending, increased accordingly. When oil prices finally fell in the early 1980s, high levels of government spending were locked in leading the debt service ratio to shoot up, from 4.2 per cent to 30 per cent in 1984. For the whole of the 1980s,Footnote 186 interest payments made up on average one third of total government expenditure.Footnote 187 As Nigerian intellectuals watched the growing visible disconnect between the abundant oil revenues and declining public well-being, critiques of corruption became more widespread. Some saw this as an inevitable consequence of rapidly accelerating economic activity,Footnote 188 whereas others took it as a sign for the need for complete transformation of the economic system. In a public lecture at the University of Lagos in 1983, a prominent historian noted that it was ‘only possible to even move against corruption after bringing to an end the dependent capitalist economy’.Footnote 189
Amidst this period of turbulence and crisis, political actors struggled to articulate positive visions of social development, whilst explaining the chaos that followed the 1983 oil price crash. The same year, a military coup installed General Muhammadu Buhari as head of state, ushering in seventeen years of military rule under three separate generals. Whilst Buhari was replaced via another coup only two years later, under his reign, Nigeria’s obsession with corruption as the source of their national strife reached fever pitch.Footnote 190 The imprisoning of journalists and abolishing of political parties were justified as part of a wider War Against Indiscipline, where draconian anti-corruption measures were twinned with initiatives to make Nigerians queue in more orderly ways. At a press release in November 1984, Buhari’s Chief of Staff, Brigadier Tunde Idiagbon, displayed a custom-made bottle of French champagne that had been confiscated from the former head of one of the political parties, illustrating the way that democracy had led the country down a dangerous path of luxurious excess. The bottle was put on display at the National Museum in Onikan, Lagos, for members of the public to ‘glimpse, but not sip’.Footnote 191 Thus, pre-existing ideas of corruption as moral weaknessFootnote 192 were merged with socialist-inspired critiques of capitalist decadenceFootnote 193 to cast corruption as a combined economic and moral sickness from which only an upright and unwavering leader could deliver the nation.
This did little to resolve the underlying economic structural contradictions that plague the Nigerian economy. In 1986, the country faced a balance of payments crisis. The IMF offered the military ruler, General Babangida, financial assistance in exchange for implementing a raft of pro-market reforms.Footnote 194 General Babangida announced a ‘national conversation’ on whether to accept the offer, before announcing domestic reforms which matched the IMF’s recommendations almost exactly. The consequences of these reforms, known as structural adjustment programmes or SAPs, were disastrous and far-reaching,Footnote 195 as they were in many developing countries subject to IMF conditions. The ‘centrepiece’ of the reforms was devaluation, with the naira losing 60% of its value in under four years.Footnote 196 Between 1980 and 1995, the average growth rate was around 1%; during the same time, per capita incomes fell from $800 to $260.Footnote 197 Despite the deep reforms, debt grew from $20bn – 50% of GDP – in the mid-1980s to $35 bn by the 1990s: bringing it to a staggering 140% of GDP.Footnote 198 The economy was left even less able to engage in productive, high value-added activity, with manufacturing falling from 8% of GDP in 1980 to only 5% in 1995.
The next five years under the dictatorial reign of General Sani Abacha were the most brutal in Nigeria’s history. All political activity was bannedFootnote 199 and journalists were jailed for treason. Even as the world looked on, Abacha and his cronies crushed any dissent. Activists were put on trial and executed on flimsy grounds, including the now famous Ogoni 9.Footnote 200 The opposition led by the National Democratic Coalition – NADECO – rallied round the unofficial winner of the 1993 ‘June 12th’ presidential election that Babangida subsequently annulled. His name was MKO Abiola, a popular Muslim Yoruba businessman. When he was arrested in June 1994, Abacha is reported to have sent 600 police officers.Footnote 201 In the face of such authoritarianism, the quest for good governance became synonymous with the struggle for democracy.Footnote 202
After the despotic rule of military dictator Sani Abacha came to an end with his death in 1998, it was seen that Nigeria had joined, if belatedly, the rest of the modern world in the ‘End of History’. A market economy governed by a liberal democratic state was seen as the final resting place for the search for good governance in Nigeria. The eponymous good governance reforms were advocated by donors as a means of softening the hard edges of unmitigated free markets, but continue to move Nigeria towards this largely undisputed goal. By the early years of the twenty-first century, Nigeria was in many ways at the forefront of African efforts towards good governance on the continent. The first democratic president since 1983, Olusegun Obasanjo, was a founding member of Transparency International and set up a reinvigorated anti-corruption agency called the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC). He was also a leading light in neo-liberal economic reforms as embodied by NEPAD and successfully negotiated a debt relief package, demonstrating not only economic responsibility but promising statesman-like leadership.
At the same time, there was a sense that the side of good governance in Nigeria was fighting a losing battle. Despite Obasanjo’s headline successes, there were nagging signs that, echoing Chinua Achebe’sFootnote 203 diagnosis of ‘the trouble with Nigeria’, beneath the surface Nigeria suffered some unique pathology of bad governance. Nigerian scholars wrote about how ‘corruption fights back’.Footnote 204 Obasanjo himself started to look like less of a safe bet. The anti-corruption commission he set up was accused of politically motivated prosecutions and the National House of Assembly was forced to face down his attempts to amend the constitution to give him a shot at a third term.
This historical overview shows that the aims and objectives of governance have changed over time. So too, bad governance has been understood in different ways, with ‘corruption’ referring to a shifting set of political, economic and social ills. With it, the ‘conventional wisdom’ regarding how to eradicate corruption and achieve good governance has also evolved. Thus, rather than seeing good governance as the uncontroversial opposite to corruption, as in much of the donor literature, we have to ask which vision of good governance responds to whose ideas of corruption? However, as Obasanjo was struggling with the demands of national governance, a new conception of good governance was emerging in the country’s southwest.
3 Introducing Southwest Nigeria, Oyo State and the Lagos Model
Southwest Nigeria is home to a fifth of the country’s populationFootnote 205 and was the heart of the cocoa-growing region under colonialism. Today, it has some of the best development and health indicators in the country.Footnote 206 Whilst the analysis in this book draws on the experience of a number of southwestern states, it centres on Oyo State, a place celebrated as the heart of progressive ideology in Nigeria and home to the proud tradition embodied in the Yoruba language (spoken by 30 million people across Nigeria, West Africa and sizeable UK and US diasporas).Footnote 207 It is bordered by Kwara State to the north, Osun to the east, Ogun state to the south and Benin Republic to the west. The state’s capital, Ibadan, is the third biggest city in Nigeria and accounts for roughly half of the state’s population. Whilst official figures put Oyo’s population at 6.8 million in 2012, it is estimated that there could be almost that many in Ibadan alone.Footnote 208 The analysis draws on seven months’ in-depth fieldwork between 2013 and 2018, during which time I conducted over 150 interviews and focus groups with the city’s street traders, civil servants and politicians, both Big Men and small fry (for more details of the nuts and bolts of my research, see the methodological appendix).
The Value of Studying Sub-National Politics
A focus on the southwest and Oyo State reflects a growing interest in sub-national politicsFootnote 209 and means that we can sidestep many of the issues that have come to define the study of politics in Nigeria. Ethnicity is centre stage, in the form of contested Yoruba cultural nationalism, but ethnic conflict is largely absent.Footnote 210 Apart from some Hausa and Igbo ‘settler’ communities,Footnote 211 the state is homogenously Yoruba. So too religious conflict, which looms large in narratives of national life.Footnote 212 The region explored in this book has equally vibrant Muslim and Christian groups, with a patchwork of spiritual, political and customary traditions across the six states of the south west zone.Footnote 213 Terrorism, the subject of so many studies of Nigeria’s politicsFootnote 214 is mercifully absent, with Boko Haram’s stronghold in the northeast over 1,000 kilometres away. Oil figures only as a distant source of federal funds, which is variously turned on turned off or runs dry.Footnote 215 As one of the twenty-seven states in Nigeria that produce neither oil nor gas, Oyo State sits out of the petro-state framings that justifiably dominate analyses of the country’s political economy as a whole.Footnote 216 By starting our analysis of legacies of good governance in the electoral contests for the seats on the Native Administrations of the 1950s and focussing on the period post 1999, the terrors of military rule and dictatorship at the federal level are filtered through the lens of a surprising resilience of constitutionalism.Footnote 217 In this way, focussing on sub-national politics in southwest allows us to set aside the dominant tropes used to study politics in both Nigeria and Africa more broadly.
Beyond the headline dramas of national politics, Oyo State is by no means provincial. Ibadan has played host to the saints and villains of Nigeria’s political history, including the revered thinker and former leader of the colonial-era Western Region, Obafemi Awolowo,Footnote 218 and Lamidi Adedibu, condemned by Human Rights Watch as the worst example of shady ‘godfather’ politics.Footnote 219 Yet, politicians draw on the example set by both to build legitimacy for their rule. Since the celebrated but surprisingly controversial transformation of Lagos under Bola Tinubu and Babatunde Fashola, Ibadan has been in the mega-city’s shadow and trying to emulate its glossy success on less than a tenth of the budget. Many of the key insights that this book has to offer on good governance revolve around the controversies over what I call the ‘Lagos model’Footnote 220 as a blueprint to copy, and how successive politicians have sought to make sense of the paradoxes of the city’s success.
The chapters roughly chart the story of the first four years of the Lagos model in Oyo State: from the election in 2011 of Abiola Ajimobi on a platform of transformation to his struggles to win a second term in 2015, when the contradictions of the model were more viscerally apparent. Ekiti state, to the west of Oyo, provides a comparison, with Governor Kayode Fayemi adopting the Lagos model a year earlier than Oyo and pre-figuring some of its tensions in a shock election result in 2014. These same debates played out across the states of Nigeria’s southwest zone, before being amplified to the national level when the All Progressive’s Congress (APC) won control of the presidency for the first time in 2015, and Buhari came to power off the back of a campaign bankrolled, in part, by Tinubu.
Lagos, Oyo and Ekiti as ‘Home-Grown’ Good Governance States
In terms of the debates around the imposition of the good governance agenda in Africa and the subsequent hierarchical relationships between donors and recipient governments, the states that adopted the Lagos model provide an important case study of deviation from the established narratives. Governors in these southwestern states adopted reforms in keeping with the good governance agenda not because they were forced to by donors upon whom they relied for cash but for their own political and ideological reasons. It is worth reviewing the role of conditionality in the promotion of the good governance agenda to highlight how much of an outlier this makes the Lagos model.
In many cases, the good governance agenda was forced on poor countries, either explicitly via conditionalityFootnote 221 or implicitly, under the new banner of ‘selectivity’,Footnote 222 as pre-conditions before countries can become eligible for developmental assistance or debt relief.Footnote 223 This led to critiques that international financial institutions were imposing the ‘Western’Footnote 224 or more specifically ‘Western Liberal’Footnote 225 model of governance on developing countries. Scholars such as Thandika Mkandawire, Adrian Leftwich and Rita Abrahamsen have shown how the good governance paradigm acted as a cover for a series of questionable interventions in the politics and economies of developing countries in order to advance the interests of capital based in the Global North.Footnote 226 Developing country governments face a double bind: reliant on donors for financial survival, they struggled to reconcile donor demands with the need to satisfy domestic electoral constituencies to win re-election.Footnote 227 The subsequent enthusiasm for ‘local ownership’, emerging from the 2005 Paris Declaration on Aid Effectiveness and Accra Agenda for Action three years later, did little to change the coercive hierarchical dynamics between donors and recipient countries. However, a survey of African governments in 2002 found that this changed little in practice: “what passed for participation and consultation in many parts of Africa was little more than the presentation of a framework document that had already been prepared to a select audience of people.”Footnote 228
Yet, the emphasis on technocratic governance reform as a Western imposition on the Global South leaves an important gap in our analysis. The first is how it fails to explain the popularity of good governance ideas and their domestication by ruling elites in states not subject to donor pressure. Whilst there are undoubtedly countries who have signed up to good governance reforms under coercive conditions,Footnote 229 there are others who have taken the lead in becoming, what we can call, ‘home-grown’ good governance states, that is, states where the ruling elites self-consciously and enthusiastically embrace the good governance agenda. Of course, for those international donors who run good governance programmes, home-grown good governance states need no explanation, beyond noting with pleasure that another country’s elites have come round to recognising the benefits of their prescriptions. For everyone else, these cases pose a puzzle.
Many explain the apparent adoption of the good governance agenda by developing countries of their own accord as reflecting shallow lip-service to faddish buzzwords in the hope of securing funding.Footnote 230 Indeed summarising decades of growing cynicism among Nigerian political scientists, Daniel Agbiboa describes the government’s anti-corruption campaigns as ‘feckless rhetoric’Footnote 231 or perniciously deep brain-washing of elites who are totally subsumed in the reigning paradigm.Footnote 232 But, this misses the extent to which governing elites exert agency in their adoption of this vision and fails to take account of the role of such elites’ own normative political commitments. For example, reformist politicians in Paraguay have taken the principle of transparency and made it their own, building a coalition of professionals, technocrats and liberal politicians for whom transparency embodies a situated set of political and social aspirations.Footnote 233
Suffice to say, Nigeria was the last place donors expected to find local ownership. A 2010 report for the Norwegian Agency for Development Cooperation warned would-be reformers that “the political will for reform may be lacking and reforms can be met with resistance”.Footnote 234 Moreover, due to lucrative petroleum sales, Nigeria was historically one of the least aid-dependent countries in Africa.Footnote 235 In 2004, foreign development aid made up on 0.6 per cent of government spending compared to a mean of 43 per cent in other Sub-Saharan African countries.Footnote 236 Whilst Obasanjo was keen to win donor support for the Heavily Indebted Poor Countries (HIPC) initiative at the federal level,Footnote 237 Nigerian state governments were not financially dependent on donor funds in the same way that countries of an equivalent size relied on external budgetary support. Thus, the leverage that donors elsewhere wielded to secure governance reform as the condition of access to loans and grants was absent among Nigerian states.
Thus, by studying the Lagos model, it shines light on political, economic and ideological factors that drove state governors in the southwest to become home-grown good governance states. As expanded on in Chapter 2, leaders mixed donor prescriptions with ideas of good governance inherited from indigenous political traditions, which themselves were developed in conversation with the looming presence of British colonialism a century before. As the outcome of this process of inter-mixing, the Lagos model represents a canny political strategy in response to changing political developments and international opportunities as well as a deeply held long-standing normative commitments,Footnote 238 albeit updated in a neo-liberal register. Moreover, the politics of competing conceptions of good governance in southwest Nigeria showcases the clash between elite-led epistemic approaches to governance and popular demands for social re-embedding of power.
4 Methods and Methodology
The debates over the Lagos model are instructive because at the most basic level, they show that different people think about good governance in different ways. At first sight, this is obvious: why would we need democracy if we all agreed on what the government should do? But, it has far-reaching consequences for how we think about the values associated with good governance that have long been treated as so uncontroversial as to be beyond debate. The twin values of accountability and transparency in particular have transcended being mere buzzwords to occupy an almost magical status as universally recognised ‘good things’. Indeed, as this book will show, accountability and transparency are widely demanded from leaders, but the specific ways in which they are understood have significant variations. In academic terminology, we can say that accountability and transparency are the core concepts of which there can be many different conceptions.Footnote 239
This book is motivated by the conviction that these alternative conceptions go beyond mere differences in how to interpret development industry buzzwords; rather they betray more profound differences regarding core conceptual questions about the nature of politics itself. In the words of Dickson Eyoh (quoted at the start of this book), they are part of the important task of ‘articulating collective social visions’.Footnote 240 Within the study and practice of politics on the African continent, there have always been those who ask what African political experiences can tell us about wider normative political ideals.Footnote 241 Typically, this has been combined with an explicit interest in decolonising the study of Africa: stripping back the ‘white gaze’Footnote 242 of colonial ideology that says African life is merely a half-formed approximation of European norms, or too exotic and esoteric to be worth intellectual attention. Mahmood Mamdani describes this as the imperative to neither ‘exoticise nor banalise’ Africa.Footnote 243 To take up this task, we must think carefully about our methods and methodologies.
Studying Governance Politically in Africa
More recently, the study of governance and development in Africa has paid renewed attention to the political dimensions of governance;Footnote 244 in so doing, it has complicated the assumptions of both the good governance and neo-patrimonialism paradigms.
Some scholars have undertaken a conceptual fine-tuning of neo-patrimonialism to enable more fine-grained empirical analysis. Anne Pitcher, Mary Moran and Michael Johnston contrast the common use of the term neopatrimonial to denote corruption and predation, with the Weberian origins of the term as a type of legitimate authorityFootnote 245 with ‘multi-stranded sets of ties and obligations’.Footnote 246 Daniel Bach argues instead that while ‘predatory’ forms of neo-patrimonialism did in some cases pervade the entire state, these had to be disaggregated from ‘capped or regulated’ forms of neo-patrimonialism which may in fact ‘alleviate the imprint of social, ethno-regional and religious identities while promoting loyalty and intra-elite cohesion’.Footnote 247 ‘Neo-patrimonial governance’ has been shown to be compatible with a wide range of developmental and democratic outcomes, such as the democratic middle income state of Botswana.Footnote 248 Beyond the homogenising assumptions of the neo-patrimonialism school, the Africa Power and Politics Programme sought to discover the “forms of governance that work better for development than those prescribed by the current ‘good governance’ orthodoxy”.Footnote 249 Through the empirical study of differences in ‘institutions and outcomes’ in post-colonial Africa, it started from the premise that “institutions function better when they ‘work with the grain’ of the society which hosts them”.Footnote 250
A second and related body of work emphasises the political economy of governance and development. Inspired by the success of countries in East Asia, some argued that good governance was not a pre-requisite for development and that patrimonial relationships between governments and business could under certain conditions contribute to development.Footnote 251 David Booth and Frederick Golooba-MutebiFootnote 252 argue that what matters is whether the private interests of ruling elites could be hacked, so to speak, to manage ‘economic rents in a centralised way with a view to enhancing their own and others’ incomes in the long run rather than maximising them in the short run’.Footnote 253 Drawing on the structural political economy of Mushtaq Khan,Footnote 254 this body of work is less concerned with the corruption per se and instead asks under what conditions the proceeds of corruption (rents) are channelled by elites into productive investments. Atul Kohli argues that Nigeria’s neo-patrimonial state was problematic not because it violated the institutional prescriptions of the good governance, but because it hampered the development of an indigenous capitalist class and thus successful industrialisation.Footnote 255 Alternatively, developmental patrimonialism may exist within business-state relationships, characterised by growth-enhancing rather than growth-retarding rents.Footnote 256,Footnote 257 These ideas have often been developed in donor-backed consortia and have been widely operationalised by donors in the form of political economy assessments. The British Department for International Development (DFID) championed ‘politically smart, locally led development’Footnote 258 and the World Bank has taken steps to revise its previous anti-political stance and instead sought to ‘think politically’.Footnote 259 In practice, this meant creating tools for practitioners to think strategically about which political actors might act as allies or spoilers for a given policy intervention.
Together, these new insights highlight important conceptual and methodological correctives to the good governance and neo-patrimonialism paradigms and as such inform this book’s methodological and conceptual approach in three ways. First of all, there is extensive variation in the form and quality of governance that exists between and within states: the applicability of any conceptual label is an empirical question and cannot be assumed. Second, patronage politics is compatible with a wide range of democratic and developmental outcomes. Thirdly, states exist within a complex political and economic context: whilst some degree of intentional state-led reform of ‘the rules of the game’ is possible, both governments and donors must respond and adapt to institutional and political constraints. However, whilst the political economy approach is more open-minded about the form that developmental institutional arrangements might take, with scholars supposedly attached only to ‘what works’, scholars nonetheless imported their own normative conception of what constituted a good outcome: whether defined as ‘inclusive development’, structural transformation or economic growth. It tells us little about how different people conceive of good governance as a normative goal. To go further, we need to not only recognise the political nature of governance but develop more inductive and responsive methodological approaches.
Studying Competing Conceptions of Good Governance
One methodological response to the assumed universality of the orthodox conception of good governance has been to turn to the past to uncover forgotten or neglected political traditions and ideas. In Nigeria, this can be seen in the Ibadan School historians in the 1950s who sought to ‘retriev[e] the real histories of political community’Footnote 260 as a way of expanding ‘the usable past’. As Chapter 1 explains, the century-long project of Yoruba cultural nationalism has led a succession of thinkers, poets and statesmen to interrogate the questions of political modernity through a rich indigenous vocabulary.Footnote 261 Elsewhere, historians have variously used debates in Tanzanian public discourse to address bigger normative political questions about land, citizenship and belonging,Footnote 262 Hausa terminology to study the historical development of the idea of corruption in the Sahel,Footnote 263 and the evolution of ideas of wealth and kingship in Asante history to denaturalise contemporary concepts.Footnote 264 For some, the study of Africa’s pre-colonial democratic institutions – the ntungasani palaver or the mbongi and baraza fireplace assembliesFootnote 265 – has formed the basis of political action, with writers like Ernest Wamba-dia-Wamba and Kwasi Wiredu calling for a return to tradition.Footnote 266 Drawing on African intellectual as opposed to political traditions, Samir Amin argued for the elaboration of alternative conceptions of key concepts – such as the nation – outside of Western canons.Footnote 267 Abosede Babatunde’s study of Yoruba language conceptions of poverty shows the value of deep linguistic analysis,Footnote 268 also evidenced in JDY Peel’s study of olaju, a Yoruba concept of development to which we will return throughout the book.Footnote 269
Beyond historical and linguistic analysis, the study of good governance as collective social visions has been conducted through an analysis of key texts and individual thinkers: the writings of independence-era leaders like Nnamdi Azikiwe,Footnote 270 AwolowoFootnote 271 and Ahmadu Bello, the Sardauna of Sokoto,Footnote 272 or the notes of the political scientists and economists who drafted the 1979 constitution as a way of writing a new future for Nigeria.Footnote 273 In the African context, ‘texts’ has been understood to encompass oral culture as source material: examples include the analysis of Yoruba proverbs as the basis of exploration for attitudes to patronage, health and conflictFootnote 274 and studies of Soundiata Keita’s oath as the basis for political thinking in the thirteenth century Mali Empire.Footnote 275 In the twentieth century, African thinkers, leaders and activists were central to the development of anti-colonial,Footnote 276 nationalist,Footnote 277 Pan-AfricanFootnote 278 and socialistFootnote 279 political thought.
Recently, there has been renewed attention to the empirical study of ideas, ideology and values in contemporary African politics, via qualitative fieldwork. Under the banner of ‘normative politics’Footnote 280 in Africa, scholars have used in-depth qualitative methods to theorise normative political concepts from the bottom up. Daniel Mulugeta draws on fieldwork with Ethiopian agricultural officers to rethink corruption through the Amharic concept of government as mengist.Footnote 281 John Harrington, Harriet Deacon and Peter Munyi juxtapose contrasting normative frames for the governance of traditional knowledge in Kenya.Footnote 282 Stephanie Diepeveen draws on ethnographies of debates on Mombasa’s street corners to challenge mainstream thinking on the public sphere.Footnote 283 This scholarship is united by a desire to foreground the meanings and the imaginaries of participants ‘on the ground’ at the same time as using African experience to speak back to wider theoretical debates. Pushing against the exoticisation of African politics, Dan Paget shows how attention to President Magafuli’s authoritarian rule in Tanzania helps clarify broader ideological categories like the distinction between plebianism and populism,Footnote 284 and liberatory and developmental nationalism.Footnote 285
Couched in the theoretical concerns of politics and development studies, the normative politics agenda shares much with political anthropology, which focuses on offering thick descriptions via an immersion in everyday political life. Whilst maintaining an attention to overarching questions of accountability, democracy and governance, this literature has oriented itself towards the grassroots, getting a ‘worm’s eye view’ of how power is and might be exercised. Adebanwi’s work on ‘the political-economy of everyday life’ exemplifies this approach,Footnote 286 which includes the study of rebellions and farmers,Footnote 287 informal traders,Footnote 288 vigilantes,Footnote 289 okada motorcycle taxi driversFootnote 290 and churchgoers.Footnote 291 Traditionally, ethnographic methods have been the preserve of the academic discipline of anthropology (which has its own history of colonial practice and shares much of the responsibility for exoticising Africa in the Western academy).Footnote 292 The development of political anthropology as a sub-discipline has generated valuable insights on how political imaginaries are reproduced in everyday life.Footnote 293 Indeed, some political anthropologists are pushing at the discipline’s traditionally limited theoretical ambitions – seen as producing non-generalisable ‘emic’ conceptions and thick descriptions.Footnote 294 Anastasia Piliavsky and Judith Scheele argue for a methodology that can offer ‘ethnographically derived political concepts’.Footnote 295 The next section considers how we might integrate such ‘ethnographically derived political concepts’ from the study of political contestation in Nigeria into a discipline that has rarely even acknowledged Africa: political theory.Footnote 296
Political Theory from the Field
Indeed, these methodological experiments arrive at a time of growing disquiet in the field of Western political theory. The increasing abstractness and specialisation of analytical political theory have led scholars to call for political theory to be reinvigorated and better engage with the political reality in which we find ourselves and challenge the status quo.Footnote 297 So-called ideal theory, where refined blueprints for perfectly just worlds are set out in ever more painstaking detail, is under pressure to give way to more ‘fact-sensitive’ ways of doing theory, which provide a stronger basis for guiding action.Footnote 298 Moreover, we must be alert to the ways in which liberal political theory – the dominant approach in the United States and the UK – is entangled with power relations.Footnote 299 Theories of universal justice, rights and freedom developed in parallel to the West’s growing military hegemony over the rest of the world; moreover, in many cases, these liberal values were used to justify violenceFootnote 300 and categorise the world into the enlightened West and the inferior ‘Other’.Footnote 301
One way of inverting these power relations has been to expand the methodological basis of political theory. Lisa Herzog and Bernardo Zacka argue that theorising should not start from high theory and academic debates but from ‘the possibility that we, as theorists, may have something to learn from observing how these normative issues are raised, discussed and addressed in the thick of everyday life’.Footnote 302 An ethnographic sensibility, where scholars immerse themselves in the world as it is experienced by others, and with an attitude of open mindedness, offers an exciting methodological approach, which whilst familiar to anthropologists is new to political theorists. Through participant observation, interviews, historical analysis and other ‘field’-based methods, not only can theorists gain new perspectives on existing questions but also such engagement may suggest ‘a set of relevant questions that we might otherwise not have thought to ask’.Footnote 303 It is no surprise that ethnographic political theory has its roots in feministFootnote 304 and post-colonial theory:Footnote 305 it has been those scholars who did not conform to the norm of an able-bodied white male political theorist ‘realised that understanding institutionalised oppression would have to begin with the perspective of those who are oppressed, rather than with the common sense wisdom of theorists’.Footnote 306
Such methods are not without their challenges and controversies. The connection between the scholar and the context in which they do research is understood in different ways. Some within the push for more ‘realistic’ political theory have assumed that diagnosing the injustices in ‘the world as we find it’Footnote 307 means limiting our focus to ‘our liberal democratic social order’ without clarifying the boundaries of the imagined ‘we’ to whom this order belongs.Footnote 308 By contrast, the growing field of comparative political thought has broadened the scope of theory, and brought alternative, often non-Western contexts, into conversation with more mainstream, Western-centric canonical works.Footnote 309 The risk of thinking of such an enterprise as ‘comparison’ is that it naturalises the supposed foreignness of the non-Western comparator.Footnote 310 The power of ethnography is that it can produce ‘problematising descriptions’ that destabilise our received knowledge about people, places and institutions which we thought we knew. As Herzog and Zacka argue, our supposed familiarity with ‘our’ world is tenuous when it comes to social spaces, moral dilemmas and occupational realms with which we are at best loosely connected:Footnote 311 By expanding the empirical basis of our analysis, and making surprising comparisons,Footnote 312 we open up to new perspectives.Footnote 313
Thus, this study sits at the confluence of contemporary developments in both the study of African politics and political theory. As we see a renewed focus on ideas and normativity in Africa, the stuff which elsewhere might come under the rubric of political theory, that same field is making an ethnographic turn towards the methods which have historically been a staple of the field of African politics.Footnote 314
Conclusion
The core argument of this book, simply put, is that power must be socially embedded for it to be accountable.
An empirical analysis of the political career of Abiola Ajimobi sets the narrative arc of the book. The chapters are organised chronologically, tracing the roots of his progressive conception of good governance in Yoruba history in Chapter 1, through to his election as Governor of Oyo State election in 2011 in Chapter 2 and the struggles he faced to maintain popular support in Chapters 3 and 5. His eventual bid for re-election in 2015 is dealt with in the conclusion. (Chapters 4 and 6 pause this narrative to explore deeper theoretical issues). In adopting the Lagos model, Ajimobi drew on a longer progressive tradition in Yoruba politics which emphasises the epistemic – that is, knowledge-based – elements of good governance. Informed by the concept of olaju, the Lagos model promised ‘enlightened’ leadership and material progress guided by a long-term vision. This clashed with amala politics, the practice of which embodies an equally long-standing tradition in Oyo State which emphasised the mass distribution of food and a close social connection between leaders and followers. In between these poles of progressive versus populist politics, there is widespread support among voters from diverse sectors of society for a socially embedded conception of good governance. Regardless of leaders’ technocratic qualifications or willingness to engage in ‘stomach infrastructure’, all leaders are expected to cultivate the social relations that make them transparent and accountable. The ongoing presence of and support for populist opponents can be understood as a political response to Ajimobi neglecting this need for connection. Thus, the story of politics in twenty-first century southwest Nigeria shows how political competition is undergirded by competing conceptions of good governance.
Beyond offering an empirical analysis, this book draws on debates and disagreements about the Lagos model to open up new ways of thinking about good governance. It interweaves the scholarly and donor literature on accountability and transparency with Yoruba concepts like olaju, ola and amala politics to make generalisable claims about the need to attend to not only the epistemic and material dimensions of governance but also the social. This central conceptual argument is extended through an analysis of competing conceptions of three constitutive elements of the good governance agenda in turn: accountability (Chapters 3 and 4), transparency (Chapter 5), and the public–private divide (Chapter 6). The conclusion chapter considers the implications of socially embedded good governance for a final concept towards which the proponents of the good governance agenda in the World Bank and other IFIs have always had a comparatively luke-warm attitude, namely, democracy.
Inductive analysis of Nigerian political discourse and practice offers fresh conceptualisations of good governance buzzwords which in turn have the potential to improve our political practice and institutional design in Nigeria and beyond. Politicians should be accessible, that is, they should maintain spaces for direct face-to-face communication, and they should honour the need for transparency not only in data but also in people. Thus, the book offers an empirical analysis from which it draws normative conclusions: we learn from the vocabulary of accessibility, cabals, ‘out-of-office’ politicians, transparent relationships and people-centred governance used by voters and politicians alike in Nigeria. In so doing, we can make our democracies more robust and accountable.
However, these conceptual and normative arguments are incompatible with the methodologies that currently dominate Western political science and the study of politics in Africa. I showed above how the social realm was pathologised in the neo-patrimonialism literature; this is only one expression of this wider disciplinary instinct to discount the social dimensions of politics. Moreover, the biases of the good governance agenda and the neo-patrimonialism literature have been consolidated – not to mention made more respectable – through the subsequent embrace of economistic methodologies in political science (Chapter 3). This is seen most clearly in the rise of principal-agent models as the dominant approach to studying accountability.Footnote 315 These models conceive of political actors as principals and agents whose political motives are reducible to more or less overlapping utility functions;Footnote 316 as a result individualistic assumptions are ‘baked in’ to the tools that many scholars use to study concepts like accountability and transparency. Social and relational aspects of politics – such as the need for connection and communication – are simply beyond the grasp of the interest-maximising rational actors that exist in the imaginations of many political scientists and animate their models (Chapter 4). As a discipline which has a deep-rooted suspicion of social relations, political science lacks the ontological and methodological space to accommodate the social dimensions of governance. These suspicions can be traced back to the liberal desire for impersonal political relations (discussed in more detail in Chapter 4) but are turbo-charged by the lingering colonial attitudes that shape knowledge production in Western universities (Chapter 6 and conclusion). The third and final thread running through the book is therefore intervention into disciplinary debates.
Thus, this book offers a three-fold contribution to the study of African politics and democracy more generally. A normative argument in favour of socially embedded governance is derived from an empirical analysis of debates around the Lagos model in southwest Nigeria, which in turn has methodological implications for the study of politics. Along the way, it touches on key issues in twenty-first century politics: the face-off between technocracy and populism, the possibility of face-to-face connections in a world where politicians and voters are increasingly distant, and the intertwining of democratic aspirations with neo-liberalism.
Chapter Outline
Chapter 1 shows how, throughout Yorubaland’s political history, there have been rival camps with rival ideas of good governance. The progressive tradition has emphasised an epistemic approach to governance, embodied in the Yoruba concept of olaju (civilisation or development) and the figure of Chief Obafemi Awolowo. More populist challengers have always countered this elitist approach with a more socially embedded offering, emphasising closeness and connection between leaders and followers. By 2011, it was progressive politicians who adopted donor-originated ideas of good governance and were able to forge a synthesis that worked as both grand vision and political strategy. However, the experience of the last 100 years of Yoruba politics teaches us to be sceptical of any claim to a monopoly on good governance.
Chapter 2 presents the Lagos model as it was implemented in the states of Lagos, Oyo and Ekiti. For donors who had long hoped that Nigerian politicians would earnestly engage in their good governance reform programmes, the adoption of the Lagos model in the southwest seemed to be a fairy tale ending to the tale of Nigeria democracy. Good governance with local ownership, what’s not to love? The experience of southwestern states in the early 2010s underscores the folly of righteous confidence. The Ekiti case serves as an example of how, when these programmes eventually take effect and developing countries replicate the good governance agenda model, they may be rejected in favour of their polar opposite. This draws our attention to the possibility that certain core values or needs are overlooked by the good governance agenda. At first sight, the disagreement appears to lie in how to interpret the material obligations of leadership. However, this book’s central thesis is that the differences go deeper: the progressives and their populist rivals were offering fundamentally different relationships between voters and those in power.
Chapter 3 analyses conflicting conceptions of accountability. As prescribed by the good governance agenda, the reforms that allowed the state governments in southwest Nigeria to drive through transformative changes required the insulation of key decision-makers from social demands in the name of efficiency and effectiveness. The Lagos model promoted on a conception of accountability as performance, where popular demands were filtered through the assumed epistemic superiority of those in power. Ajimobi and other progressive governors saw themselves as accountable to the people’s long-term interests, even when these interests were unrecognisable to the people themselves. Voters increasingly condemned the progressive governors as arrogant, distant and unable to listen, even when they were handing out cheques and creating jobs. Ethnographic fieldwork provides examples of a more socially embedded conception of accountability as accessibility. Combining insights from southwest Nigeria, the UK and Ghana, the chapter concludes by reviewing the role of communication in different theories of accountability, juxtaposing accessibility with principal-agent models.
Chapter 4 provides a theoretical account of accountability as accessibility and argues that it reveals the ontological limits of dominant scholarly approaches to accountability, namely, principal-agent models. It starts by asking what makes communication an intrinsically valuable part of accountability. Theories stressing the power of communication in the public sphere to confer recognition and dignity on citizens are considered and found to capture part of the lived experience of accessibility. However, they leave out the way that accessibility draws on social sanctions to constrain rulers in the context of unequal power relations. A review of the historical roots of the principal-agent theory explains why agency theorists – and thus dominant scholarly approaches of accountability – struggle to model the sanctioning power of communication, and how similar assumptions of an anonymous impersonal state have influenced the study of modern governance more generally. The political importance of social sanction is, however, fluently expressed in the Yoruba political vocabulary via the concept of olá (social honour), the elaboration of which helps flesh out how accessibility constitutes accountability.
Chapter 5 explores the politics of competing conceptions of transparency. It shows how ‘enlightened’ elites like Ajimobi made themselves transparent in the eyes of international investors, but increasingly obscure to their voters, with the donor-led good governance reforms ironically exacerbating the problem. By contrast, Nigerian public discourse reflects a popular desire for the formal and informal connections between politicians, decision-makers, and businessmen to be made transparent. Linking the Nigerian experience to debates in the literature on the relationship between transparency and accountability, and transparency and trust, this chapter contributes to a more holistic account of the political ambiguities of transparency practices. It considers the possibility of populist transparency and ways that rival conceptions of transparency may conflict. Rethinking transparency as ‘transparency in people’ as opposed to ‘transparency in data’ gives us new tools to scrutinise political power.
Chapter 6 reconsiders the role of the public–private divide in setting the limits of good governance. It starts by considering the scope of accountability in the principal-agent model, emphasising the centrality of elections and the binary of being either in or out of office. Nigerian voters and politicians, by contrast, conceive of good governance as something that a politician can do whether currently occupying public office or not. Next, it unpacks the role of public–private divide in designating the scope of certain political claims, that is, when and to whom it applies. The work of leading Nigerian political theorist, Peter Ekeh, is repurposed with his idea of the ‘two publics‘ to suggest that popular demands for accountability as accessibility and transparency in people should be understood as a demand to re-connect public office with a more social public sphere. Rather than seeing social relations as a threat to formal political institutions, as in much of the political science literature, I argue that the principles of accessibility and transparency in people help make power more accountable by embedding it in social relations. The chapter then considers whether this account of socially embedded governance ignores the threat of constituents using access to their leaders to make particularistic demands. In response to this challenge, I argue that not only is ‘personal politics without clientelism’Footnote 317 possible but also personal contact has benefits for democracy. Whilst personal contact between voters and politicians is pathologised in scholarly analysis of Africa, it is celebrated by political scientists working on Western democracies.
The Conclusion summarises the key empirical, normative and methodological contributions of the book and shows how taken together they can re-orient the study of African politics within the Western-dominated academy. Empirically, this chapter concludes the story of the Lagos model in Oyo State, with an analysis of how competing conceptions of good governance shaped the 2015 and 2019 gubernatorial elections. The book’s main normative argument for socially embedded good governance is summarised and contrasted with the dominant technocratic approach represented by the World Bank’s good governance agenda and the principal-agent model. I make the case for the relevance of socially embedded good governance to wider theoretical debates about democracy and political theory. In terms of current democratic struggles, the good governance agenda is only one aspect of a wider shift towards technocratic rule over the past decades: a neglect of the social dimensions of governance helps explain the appeal of right-wing populism in the twenty-first century. Moreover, by looking at socially embedded governance in light of debates in democratic theory, the conclusion chapter contributes to our understanding of the role of social relations in democracy with regard to scale, inequality and conflict.
Finally, the book demonstrates the value of ‘socially embedded’ theory. It affirms the wider methodological project – initiated by post-colonial comparative political theorists, anthropologists, and proponents of political realism – of integrating ‘ethnographically derived political concepts’Footnote 318 into normative political theory debates. The book concludes that Nigeria has lessons for the disciplines of political science and political theory, as well as for anyone interested in the survival of democracy in the twenty-first century.